In some ways, all the developments are great; and change is happening at breakneck pace both in terms of popular uptake and technological innovation. People can enhance personal and professional relationships online; ideas, information and culture can be more easily shared; brands can be more attentive to the nuances of their target audience; you can find out your friends’ opinions first on products and services you’re interested in. It’s this last development that interests – and to some extent concerns me – increasingly the information we’re presented with online will be guided by our friends’ opinions. It’s fascinating, watching this intelligent internet form, but will it be smart for society in the long run? How far will it go?

I think it’s quite likely that we’re in the process of developing a culture of popular consensus, whereby we’ll become very heavily influenced by what our online connections think, who are in turn guided by what their connections think. Will an abundance of this limit us in terms of discovery, creativity and exposure to new ideas and points of view? I would hate to miss out on finding something new – say a new piece of music or literature -because it was overshadowed, or worse, excluded because my connections didn’t rate it. I’d like to retain the freedom to form my own opinions about things I encounter, through my own path of discovery and sure, aided by my friends’ opinions but as with life, only in a minor, aside sort of way.

In writing this, I keep on hearing my mum’s voice saying “So, if Sam jumped off a cliff, does that mean you have to do the same?” Collectively, it could be a likely outcome. If Sam goes and jumps off a cliff, will we be so blindsided and overwhelmed by popular opinion and influence that we wouldn’t take independent action, led by independent thought?

I’m sounding like a massive luddite, so I may as well continue on the roll…

The other thing that concerns me about “all these great new online ways of communicating” is that I believe we’re seeing the loss of the diversity of language. As it stands, English is the business language in many non-English speaking countries and within that, American English is finding its way in, through popular spellcheck and so forth. I live in the UAE and it’s been a real struggle to learn Arabic because I find it hard to practice with people – everyone speaks English.

A couple of months ago, I was in Beirut with my friend Maria. Maria speaks beautiful Arabic. We went into this awesome vintage clothing store in Ashrafieh and the Lebanese lady in the store wouldn’t speak Arabic with her, because she was entirely weirded out by this gorgeous red-headed English rose speaking fluent Arabic. It was funny at the time but still strange nevertheless. I wonder how tricky it will be for kids growing up around the world to learn their mother tongue when it’s both easier and mandatory for them to speak English.

Ultimately, I think we need to probe a few outcomes of the brave new world, like what’s going to happen to discovery, creativity, opinion and culture when we’re all being exposed to the same things?

When we started the course, our teacher Aida asked us why we wanted to learn Arabic. The class gave a host of familiar reasons; mine’s because I think it’s disrespectful to live in a foreign country and not know the language. I’ve been in this country two years and this is my second attempt at learning Arabic.  Sometimes I think I’ll make it through to the end of the course, sometimes I don’t think I’ll make it past Beginner’s 1.

That was, until today. I was driving down the street when I saw an Emirati lady at a bus stop, with a chilly, cloudy wind blowing her headscarf off repeatedly. She looked really out of place and cold. She was also in a wheelchair, which was off the kerb and actually on the road, in the bus inlet. I was quite confounded by her presence there. You would not expect to see a lady like her. The traffic was moving but I caught her eye and knew I couldn’t just drive away, so I turned the car around and went back to see if I could take her somewhere.

I said “Masaar il khair” and she said “Habibti” and she had such lovely eyes and seemed so sweet. She spoke no English! And I’m on the 4th Arabic class – I only learned how to say “Afwan” yesterday. And I forgot that anyway. Fortunately, there was a man from Abu Dhabi there, who could speak English and was already assisting her. It turns out the lady was from Al Ain, she had lost her passport in this area in Dubai and had been visiting the police. She needed to get to Bur Dubai in order to get a bus back to Al Ain (another emirate). So I’m trying to bring these destinations up on a map, to take her to either destination and asking this chap to ask her if she can point the directions, whilst in the car. This lady and I are wanting to communicate and neither of us can talk to each other! Then the bus came and the man from Abu Dhabi decided it would be easier to put her on the bus, which he was getting on anyway and whisked her off.

That made me sad and frustrated because I would have liked to take this lady with the kind eyes somewhere in a car, rather than change buses, but I just can’t speak the language. I also had the time to take her to Al Ain. It was a surreal kind of situation because it was strange – I don’t know what she was doing there by herself on a day like this in the first place and I just wanted to make sure she was OK. And that’s all I could say: kullshay tamaam?

But I did learn something – that when you learn in real life it often stings but the lesson’s not forgotten. And today I learned why, realistically, I have to learn Arabic.

Ikujiro Nonaka (born May 10, 1935) is Professor Emeritus, Hitotsubashi University Graduate School of International Corporate Strategy; the First Distinguished Drucker Scholar in Residence at the Drucker School and Institute, Claremont Graduate University; the Xerox Distinguished Faculty Scholar, Institute of Management, Innovation and Organization, University of California, Berkeley. He is best known for his study of Knowledge Management. He co-authored The Knowledge-Creating Company with Hirotaka Takeuchi. In 2008, the Wall Street Journal listed him as one of the most influential persons on business thinking.

So he’s a smart cookie on a global scale. He plays a pivotal role in modern human capital management. The revelation that struck me in his interview though, was this:

Nonaka’s insights about knowledge reflect the distinctive arc of his own career, which was rooted in his childhood experience during the Pacific War (the Japanese name for World War II). “I was in the first grade when children from Tokyo were evacuated to the countryside,” he explains. “We used to go outside and watch the B-29s in the sky over Mount Fuji, and the smaller Grumman F4F fighters flying lower. One day, an F4F dropped down and began strafing the children as we walked back from the school. It was so close I could see the American pilot in the cockpit. It looked to me as if he was smiling. I barely survived; I was very shocked. And being a small boy, my first thought was, ‘I will beat them someday!’ I was on fire with the desire to beat America.”

What a motivation. And what an accomplishment. As I sit here in the Middle East and watch the disaster continue between Palestine and Israel, I’ve been thinking about how an abused child can grow up to become an abuser.  What struck me about this article is the thought that, while children who have suffered great trauma may seek revenge on their perpetrators, what if more people who have suffered so much could be taught how to harness their feelings to pursue excellence and foster understanding? Thereby steering away from the cycle of abuse?

In saying this I feel somwhat naive in a way… of course the differences between Japan’s actions in WW2 and the Arab-Israeli conflict are huge and by no means do I think people should be brainwashed, nor their experiences, memories and feelings diminished or manipulated by any means. It’s just that, well, at a time when I see such damage and injustice inflicted on innocents, this interview gave me hope. Simple as that.