How Creativity Emerged as the Dominant Value of Our Era
Given how much we focus on it, the concept of creativity can feel like something that has always existed, a topic philosophers and artists have pondered and debated throughout history. While this assumption seems reasonable, it is actually quite misleading. As Samuel Franklin explains in his recent book, The Cult of Creativity, the first known written use of the term "creativity" did not occur until 1875, which he notes makes it an infant in linguistic terms. Furthermore, he states that up until around 1950, there were virtually no articles, books, essays, or any written materials addressing the concept of creativity explicitly.
This raises some important questions: How did we transition from a lack of discourse on creativity to it being a constant topic of conversation? What distinguishes creativity from older terms like ingenuity, cleverness, imagination, and artistry? Perhaps most importantly, how did individuals ranging from educators to business leaders, designers, engineers, activists, and struggling artists come to view creativity not just as beneficial—personally, socially, economically—but as the solution to life’s challenges?
Fortunately, Franklin provides some insights in his book. As a historian and design researcher at the Delft University of Technology in the Netherlands, he posits that the modern concept of creativity emerged in post–World War II America as a cultural remedy—a means to alleviate tensions and anxieties stemming from increasing conformity, bureaucracy, and suburbanization. He describes creativity as a trait or process loosely associated with artists and geniuses, yet theoretically applicable to anyone across various fields. This perspective enabled a form of individualism to flourish within structured environments, rekindling the notion of the solitary inventor within the complexities of modern corporations.
By the 1950s, brainstorming, a new technique for fostering creative thinking, gained traction in corporate America as a response to demands for innovative products along with growing concerns about conformity. This sparked fervent discussions on whether true creativity should remain an individual pursuit or could be organized for corporate benefit.
I had the opportunity to converse with Franklin about the enduring fascination with creativity, how Silicon Valley became viewed as its epicenter, and the potential influence of technologies like AI in shaping our connection to it.
I’m interested in your personal relationship with creativity growing up. What inspired you to write a book about it?
Like many children, I was raised with the belief that creativity was inherently beneficial. For someone like me, who wasn’t particularly athletic or proficient in math and science, being creative signified at least the possibility of a future—even if that future was not well-defined. By the time I entered college and beyond, the prevailing sentiment among influential thinkers in the creative space was that creativity was the most essential trait for future success. Essentially, those who could create were poised to lead, and society urgently needed their insight to address the complex issues facing the world.
On one hand, as someone who identified as creative, it was hard not to be flattered by this notion. Yet, on the other hand, it felt exaggerated. What was touted as the victory of the creative class did not necessarily lead to a more inclusive or innovative world. Additionally, certain values associated with what I refer to as the cult of creativity, particularly the emphasis on self-realization, pursuing passions, and doing what you love, began to strike me as increasingly problematic. While this vision can be beautiful and I witnessed it manifest for some, I also started to feel it masked a troubling economic reality for many.
