The Pocket We Didn’t Ask For
How algorithms train our hand, and how we can reach past them
I do think people can be really kind. Some days, after seeing the rage bait and inhumane commentaries on social media, it is hard to see and even believe in the goodness of people.
But if I take some time, I can. I can remember the ways residents from other provinces showed up at Fort McMurray during the wildfires. I can remember how last week my neighbours filled up the roadside pantry because word got out it was nearly empty. I can remember how often I’ve heard people thank the bus driver just after they get off their stop.
Without the screen of our phones and our tablets, my neighbour, my son’s school and even my Mayor can seen as good people. But something happens when that glowing rectangle is pulled out of our pockets and we get lost in the intensity of a world yelling and screaming at each other.
How does a 65-year-old man who graciously stops at a crosswalk for a small family become the hateful commentator on a social media post? How does a friendly conversation about caring for others turn into an argument about socialism? How is it that ideas that were accepted by family five years ago have all of a sudden become the chasm that keeps us silent and apart?
The answer is found in that dusty old invisible briefcase we carry. We never asked for its shape or even its presence. But it is the first place our hand goes. And if we’re honest, someone else is deciding what is inside.
The Briefcase Belief — A Tiny But Mighty Pocket
The algorithm. A tiny but mighty invisible pocket found in the sets of beliefs, ideas, values and inherited stories we carry.
How does this pocket, this algorithm, work? Put simply, an algorithm measures your response to reel, a post or an image online. Then, it creates a prediction of other content that will keep getting your response. For example, feeds like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and X choose what to show you by predicting what you’ll engage with. Clicks, shares and likes create the ranking of content so that your own preferences are always shown. And like a loop, it runs like this:
You react. You like it, share it, comment on it, or even just pause on it.
The pocket takes note. It remembers what caught your hand.
The pocket restocks. It fills itself with more of the same, and a little stronger.
You reach in again. It’s right there, it feels familiar, and so you react again.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
And the most popular kinds of posts that get the most reactions aren’t the cute kitten videos or the montages of babies laughing. Nor are they that really cool eco-farming video in New Zealand.
The most popular posts, the ones the pocket likes to restock, are the angry ones - the ones that make you feel something so powerful, even if also so powerless all at the same time.
In 2021, a study of 2.7 million posts from news outlets and members of the US Congress found that posts with out-group language is the “strongest predictor of social media engagement.” Not the praise of an out-group, not an admiration of them. But animosity. And this animosity for others outside of our in-groups has been proven to increase faster than our own in-group appreciation.
This is the way the pocket was designed.
A 2021 Yale study of millions of tweets found that when people got more likes and shares for angry posts, they posted more anger over time, learning the same way we learn any rewarded habit. This is called reinforcement learning: when a behaviour gets rewarded, we tend to repeat it. A child who tells a joke and gets a laugh will tell the joke again. An employee praised for speaking up in meetings will speak up more. We don’t necessarily decide that outrage is great but we found that validation in our opinion or view and that feels good. The study found that people in politically moderate circles were especially sensitive to these rewards, which suggests social media can gradually make ordinary people more outraged than they started.
The study also pointed to norm learning where we copy what our in-group is doing. This is how my people talk, this is what they’re mad at. So I am mad too.
The algorithm, then, not only stocks the pocket but over time it trains our hand to reach for it.
The Friction Moment — My Dad and Me
To bring this home, I’m going to share a bit about my dad and me.
My dad really loves his chickens. He kind of lights up when he talks about how they come to him, rub against his ankles and cluck incessantly when he leaves the coop. He also loves slapstick humour – a good Mel Brooks film and tears of laughter will run down his face.
And then the subject of immigrants, of refugees, or helping the poor becomes a contentious and heated discussion. The chicken-loving, tender hearted, tear-stained face with laughter hardens. His language is filled with names to call “those people”. His tone is filled rage and seemingly justified damnation. His smiling face is hardened with furrowed brows and clenched fists. The dad I laughed with is now the dad I am shunned by.
I continue to see it played out in my home province. Rage and anger about honouring land back agreements and treaties - a rage and anger that wouldn’t make sense if the tables were turned. I’ve witnessed elected leaders, school parents and my own neighbour dehumanize people they have never met.
Leadership Misinterpretation — Challenge Accepted
I see it in myself. As I scroll through my news feed, heartache and hope are delivered and sometimes to the detriment of my own version of ‘justice’. “This leader was arrested!” Oh what a relief! They were terrible! Fact check: not true. “This actor said this!” What a powerful way to use their position of privilege. Fact check: out of context. Even if my heart or aim is bent towards deep, restorative and selfless justice, the algorithms – the pocket I place my hand in – still only shows one side, one narrative and not always the truthful version.
This pocket, this algorithm, is powerful and erodes my ability to be human to “the other” – the one on the other side that is just as human as me.
I will be honest. When I vision planned for my business earlier this year, my mentor asked me “Envision your ideal client. What do they look like? Where are they found?” In that moment (and even now) I see HIM. Yes, him. A middle-aged white man in a suit with a tie that somehow found it’s way loosened (I’ll speak to that later).
Yes, my ideal clients are the ones that unfortunately have hated me the most, and I have engaged with the least. I’ve been threatened by them, called names by them and was even told to go back to my “home country” by them. Like my father, their rage sat atop their fingertips and at the tip of their tongues, ready to define and dismiss you before you have a chance to be anything other than what the pocket has created you to be.
And if I’m honest, I’ve done the same. I see a middle-aged white man get up at a conference and I roll my eyes thinking Ugh . . . .here we go again. Some mansplainer telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. I’ve dismissed him because my pocket already told me the type of person that he is.
Same pocket. Same reward.
In our leadership positions, this pocket is costly. Not only does it keep us confined to our ideals, but it keeps us addicted to the feeling that we are right and somehow “others” are wrong. It impacts how we perceive our new boss, how we navigate leadership in our community and how we shape the perceptions of those we are responsible for.
The pocket has trained us to feel good about what we are angry about. Much of why DEI initiatives failed is because many of us, including myself, were so angry we didn’t know how to call others forward. The pocket was full and we were tired. And no one listened.
It’s not easy. And the alternative, if we don’t examine this pocket, will result in far worse.
The Hidden Cost — We Are Destroying Each Other
This pocket sewn into our briefcases causes real harm. Myanmar is the starkest example. Amnesty International found that Facebook’s news feed, ranking and algorithm actively amplified content inciting violence and discrimination against the Rohingya. This content was intentionally delivered it to the people most likely to act on it. One detail is especially grim: when activists responded to hateful posts, the algorithm counted those responses as engagement and pushed the harmful content further. Pushing back fed the machine.
It might seem extreme but if you pay attention, we already see this invitation to incite violence on Pro-Palestinian activists, to discriminate against immigrants from the Global South, to deny the truth of Canada’s historical genocide against Indigenous peoples.
We’re not far from cruelty.
“Walk down the street of any city, any afternoon, and look around you. What you’ve got to remember is what you’re looking at is also you. Everyone you’re looking at is also you. You could be that person. You could be that monster, you could be that cop. And you have to decide, in yourself, not to be.” James Baldwin
Executive Insight — Hope Sewn Into The Pocket
I don’t have an answer for this pocket, this algorithm, but to rip it out altogether. As wonderful as that may be, it’s not the reality that we live in.
My ask of myself, some days hour by hour, and of you: open your briefcase and look in the pocket. Take out what’s there and turn it over in your hands before you use it. Ask:
What has this pocket made bigger than it really is?
What didn’t make it into the pocket? Whose story, which facts, what context?
When I pull this out, does it help me see someone as human, or less than human??
Outrage posts go viral. But when researchers actually looked at what actually got people to sign petitions, it wasn’t outrage. It was posts using “we” language, hopeful language, and language that told people they could make a difference. Outrage gets attention. But an invitation gets action.
For leaders, this is where we start – at the invitation.
Every person on your team carries a briefcase, and every one of them has a pocket. When a news story breaks, your team walks into Monday’s meeting having reached into very different pockets, each one sure they’re holding the whole story. We do it too.
So what can we as leaders do?
Check your own pockets first. Before you react to a viral story about a community, a client or a colleague, take it out and turn it over. Is it true? Is it whole? Who haven’t I heard from?
Pause before you post. When a contested issue hits, the pressure to say something fast is real. I get it. I feel the burning rise so fast and quickly and I often want to blurt the meanest phrase I can to make the angry voices stop. In bystander or allyship training, PAUSE represents an order of actions to take before a response is made:
Pause and notice: Interrupt the momentum. Notice your body, your tone, the story starting to form.
Acknowledge: Name what’s present, without judgement.
Uncover: Get curious. What belief, past experience or fear is actually being triggered here?
Steady and shift: Breathe and regulate first, then shift from defensiveness toward openness.
Explore and act: Choose the response that accounts for their impact, not just what feels right to you.Notice how you talk about people who aren’t in the room. Your team learns what’s normal from you. If you name people with dignity, especially people you disagree with, your team will learn to do the same.
Get curious, not certain. When someone on your team reacts strongly, resist labelling them “difficult.” Ask what they’ve been seeing and what it means to them. You might learn what’s in their pocket, and they might learn what’s in yours.
Lead with invitation. When injustice needs naming, and it often does, name it clearly. Then invite people toward something: a conversation, an action, a shared commitment. Outrage keeps people scrolling. Invitation helps them move.
Take a break from the glowing screen. The pocket draws us in, but I invite you to close it. Reach out to a neighbour, an acquaintance you want to get to know more and have a conversation. Go for a walk. Process your ideas and thoughts and feelings with people who are safe. We’ve forgotten how to have conversations and disagreements. And as my piano teacher would always say, “Practice makes permanent”. The more we do it, the easier it will become and more meaningful our lives can be.
The pocket will keep restocking. That’s what it was built to do. But as leaders, we still decide what we carry into the room, and what we hand to the people who follow us.
Back to my ideal client and the loose tie.
Remember how I mentioned my ideal client earlier: a middle-aged white man with a suit and a loosened tie? My mentor paused when I told her this very detailed description.
“Loosened? Why is the man’s tie loose?” she asked.
I paused for a second. And then replied, “Because he stopped being defensive. He found the ability to relax and talk about real injustice. He softened to the message of what equity and belonging really is because he softened to understand who he was.”
Do I get it right? Hardly. Do I still try? I do. I know I have a lot of room to grow. I expect that I’ll make mistakes. But the alternative to my messy human attempts isn’t worth giving up. So, I keep on trying, even with the pocket sewn in.