How to be Generic.  Six other ways of saying Indifference

A pair of hands with pills in them

AI-generated content may be incorrect.

Part of a Series on the Philosophy of Radical Change

In our first two essays, we examined the collapse of the old political machine powered by managed difference and introduced “positive indifference” as a powerful stance for business, politics, and ethical life in the ruins of the old order. In this essay, we explore the term indifference and its close relatives and invite you to experiment with six positively indifferent micro-practices.

Indifference: What’s in a word?

Indifference: it’s a provocative word. We know that. We chose it deliberately. And yes, we delight in the contradiction—how something that signals emotional detachment can cause such a visceral, emotional reaction. That irony? It says something good about us. Deep down, we want to care. We crave meaning. We yearn to commit, to choose, to fight for something. But here’s the thing: the system—the “difference machine”—has hijacked that instinct. It’s weaponised our desire to matter, to take sides, to stand for something. That’s why we need indifference now more than ever.

William didn’t have to choose indifference as the core of his thinking. But we keep returning to it because it resists simplicity. It’s layered, paradoxical, and alive. Sure, it appears cold or flat on the surface. But look again. Indifference is not absence—it’s spaciousness. It’s potential. It’s a break from the tyranny of opposition. It’s what allows us to breathe, to think again, to reimagine.

Let’s hold onto indifference as a kind of master key but accept it’s a bit of a mood killer.  Here are six other terms we can use, each with their own unique flavour and micro-practice you can experiment with in your everyday and leadership life.

The Zone of Indistinction: Where Things Just Are

Agamben, borrowing from Deleuze, often speaks of the “zone of indistinction”—a twilight space where opposites lose their bite. A queen and a safety pin. A punk puts them together, and suddenly you’ve broken the rules that kept them apart. That clash? That’s the zone. It’s not chaos—it’s freedom. It’s the space where judgement is suspended, categories dissolve, and difference loses its grip.

This is what Agamben calls “living the sabbath.” Imagine a world on weekend mode. Nothing needs to prove itself. Things just are. No pressure to define or to judge. Just being, pure and simple.

Your Task: Stop completing your “on the one hand” with “on the other.” Let the thought float. Resist yes/no binaries. Refuse to define things only by what they are not. Embrace the zone.

Suspension: The Pleasure of Floating

When you suspend two opposing terms, you don’t destroy them—you lift them. You let them hang, unforced, in an open field. Suspension is beauty. It’s diplomacy. It’s poise. It’s lying in the sea with the sun on your face. It’s compromise. It’s the stillness before decision, and the power in delay.

Suspension is everywhere once you look: in Keats’ poetry, in Murakami’s prose, in quantum physics, even in AI. Each time you use ChatGPT, four thousand token options hover in vectors of suspension before the next one lands.

Your Task: Don’t rush. Don’t choose too fast. Float more. Get a hammock. Let the problem breathe. Let your business meetings hang unresolved just a little longer. Something better might arise.

Contentlessness: Let Go of the Story

We’re addicted to content. We think MAGA vs. Woke is about their content—red hats, protests, tweets, outrage. But that’s not the real engine. These are identities built by systems, not people. Foucault called this subjectification: the system defines you first, and only then assigns you meaning.

In truth, the most liberating moments come when we ignore the content. We gather not because of what we are, but that we are. The world of indifference celebrates multiplicity without having to explain it. You’re here? That’s enough.

Your Task: Join or create groups where content doesn’t matter. Be part of things for no reason. Don’t bring your identity into every room. Suspend what defines you—even if you’re proud of it.

Inoperativity: Glitches in the Matrix

The difference machine is a beast that runs on contrast. It churns out power, headlines, laws, identities—all based on controlled oppositions. It thrives on friction. If it’s working, it means we’re trapped.

But sometimes, the system crashes. A glitch appears. A pause. COVID—awful as it was—cracked the machine. Life stopped. We rethought everything. We learnt languages. Took up crochet. Bought puppies.

Agamben calls this “rendering inoperative.” When the system of difference stops working, even momentarily, there’s room for something else.

Your Task: Notice the glitches. Cherish them. Let the mistake hang in the air. Don’t fix the bug immediately. §Let a conversation trail off. Don’t force productivity.

Neutralisation: Redefining the Frame

Neutral doesn’t mean boring. It means clarity. It means removing the noise that blinds us. Philosophy has long practiced this—what Husserl called the epoche—a bracketing-off of assumptions so we can actually think.

The difference machine uses neutralisation to divide: (x) ≠ (y). But the indifferential world uses it to collect: (x, y). No opposition. Just togetherness. Just being.

Your Task: Neutralise your reflexes. Stop categorising every action, person, or policy. Be the space where everyone speaks without needing to declare sides. Create quiet zones.

The Generic: Radical Abstraction

In set theory, a “generic” collection includes elements about which you know almost nothing—except that they’ve been included. They don’t need names, backstories, or credentials. They belong, because they’re there.

That’s how abstract painters worked too. Kandinsky, Malevich, af Klint, Mondrian—reduced everything to lines, colours, shapes. Abstract but alive. Generic doesn’t mean bland—it means open. It means universal. It means anyone could belong.

Your Task: Build your organisation like a Mondrian. Structure your product line like Malevich. Staff your business like af Klint: with abstraction, with space, with openness. Let Kandinsky do your marketing plan.

Five-Point Action Plan:

  1. Create Neutral Zones: Design physical and mental spaces where no one needs to declare identity, side, or role. Allow neutral presence.
  2. Introduce “Suspension Days”: Regularly pause decision-making, debate, or hierarchy. Let ideas and tensions hover. Observe what emerges.
  3. Abstract Your Systems: Review business categories, hiring practices, and product types. Strip them down to abstract essentials. Remove loaded labels.
  4. Celebrate Glitches: When systems break—emails fail, meetings go off track, rules clash—don’t rush to fix them. Explore the pause.
  5. Practice Contentless Inclusion: Build teams and communities that don’t rely on predefined identities or beliefs. Focus on being present not on properties.

Make your organisation a zone of indifference. Let go of the difference machine. Choose indifference—not as apathy, but as possibility.