-->

Save $100 off your pass for KMWorld 2026!
Register NOW and join us November 16-19

The Meaning of ‘A Thing’: Six Books, Two Questions

Article Featured Image

I've written five books. Only late in the course of writing my sixth one— Beautiful Particulars: How AI’s Attention to the Smallest of Differences Is Reshaping Our Biggest Ideas—did I realize that every book I’ve written has been about the same two intertwined questions I explored in my 1979 doctoral dissertation: What is a thing, and where does it get its meaning as that thing?

My dissertation’s title was “Heidegger’s Ontology of Things.” For the philosopher Martin Heidegger—whose despicable devotion to Nazism had not yet been uncovered—“ontology” meant the most basic account of what a thing is. Both of the external reviewers liked the dissertation, but both had the same criticism: I didn’t actually talk about “being,” which was Heidegger’s lifelong topic. I was surprised, because I thought I had— by talking about things in terms of what makes them different from one another. I didn’t care about “being” as an overarching concept. It struck me as the ultimate generalization, so general as to be empty. (Only a handful of Heidegger scholars agree with this dismissal of “being.”)

I was especially drawn to him because of his understanding of meaning not as a definition, as in “A hammer has a handle and metal head and is used to drive nails.” Rather, Heidegger pointed out that we always encounter things as something. If I’m hanging a picture, I’ll take the hammer as a tool I can use. If I’m anchoring a helium balloon, I might see it as a heavy object I can use.

His notion that everything we encounter shows itself as something suddenly flooded my world with meaning ... or, more exactly, exposed the meaning that was already there.

But another of his ideas about meaning affected me more deeply: Meaning consists of an endless web of connections among everything we can encounter. For example, to understand what an eggbeater is in its usual sense, I have to understand what eggs are, which means I also understand chickens, birth, farms, rain, clouds, sky, sun, the earth as a spinning whole, and on and on until literally everything is connected to everything else. A thing’s meaning is its place in that web.

This idea echoes in every book I’ve written in the past 25 years, starting with The Cluetrain Manifesto in 2000, written with three co-authors. It explained the internet not as primarily a place where businesses could dramatically lower marketing costs. Rather, it is our place, constructed out of connections, where we can speak in our own voice about what matters to us. The internet thus is a literal web in which we get to be the unique individuals that we are, not some demographic statistic or marketing persona.

KMWorld Covers
Free
for qualified subscribers
Subscribe Now Current Issue Past Issues