The Concept of Value

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of “value.”

There’s currently a trend toward the “era of frontend,” where people pitch frontend development to anyone interested in transitioning into tech, going on and on about how great it is and urging them to jump right in. But the market is an exchange of value: companies pay for your expertise, and you trade your time for money. It just so happens that there’s market demand for building websites, or many companies’ services and products are primarily web-based, which creates a need for frontend engineers.

Also, I’m really not a fan of people who, the moment they become frontend engineers, start looking down on other parts of the industry. I’ll save that topic for another time.

Recently, I bought a timer from MUJI. I loved its minimalist design so much that I bought it even though it cost 500 NTD.

When you think about it, its functionality isn’t complex at all: countdown, reset, display, and that’s it. But turning that into a finished product requires industrial design, molding, and prototyping—it’s not something you can just whip up on a whim.

And just like that, it commands a value of 500 NTD. Getting someone to spend 500 on software or an online service is incredibly difficult, yet hardware easily breaks through that barrier and convinces consumers to pay. It makes me realize that taking a prototype all the way to a commercial product is almost impossible for an indie developer unless you have connections and industry channels. Simply paying for molds and placing factory orders requires a substantial amount of capital, making it tough for an independent maker to build something just for fun or run a small-scale business.

This is where software has an edge. As a developer, you can build a complete service from 0 to 1 all by yourself. Servers and databases can be handled entirely in the cloud; as long as you have a computer to write code, the possibilities are endless. Of course, finding a niche market to actually make money is another story. Nowadays, almost every need already has an existing service or product to address it, so making a living purely off pure-play software might become increasingly difficult.

That’s why integration is so necessary. For example, Amazon doesn’t just provide a platform; it handles everything, including logistics, to ensure a seamless service flow. Uber Eats is the same—it doesn’t just offer a food delivery platform, but also integrates delivery tracking, rating mechanisms, and more. What I mean is that software by itself creates limited value. Often, you need to ground yourself in the real world and understand user needs, rather than just writing code and calling it a day.

This is probably why most well-known engineers eventually stop identifying merely as engineers and become managers, or jump straight into becoming entrepreneurs. In the end, when it comes to solving real user problems, writing code is just a means to an end.

However, platforms like these introduce another problem: to keep them running, they rely on human labor, and the effort these people put in is often completely disproportionate to what they earn. The couriers and delivery drivers are the ones actually making the transactions happen, yet their pay is often far lower than you’d imagine. The platform rakes in massive profits, the engineers earn high salaries, and beneath it all lies the sweat and toil of countless ordinary workers. I know it’s a complicated issue, but in my heart, something about it just feels off.

Returning to the topic of value: as I mentioned earlier, you trade your time and expertise for money, and companies buy your skills. While salaries vary based on company, experience, skill level, and market demand, there is ultimately a ceiling. It’s hard to get rich or achieve financial freedom purely through a salary.

Financial freedom doesn’t mean making tons of money; it means having the freedom to do what you want without being constrained by financial factors. For example, if I want to take a month off work to travel, I can book a flight right away without worrying about my job or how much is left in my bank account. Without financial freedom, it’s hard to pursue what you truly want with complete peace of mind. Not having money can make life substantially harder, putting you behind right at the starting line—something I’ve felt acutely from elementary school all the way through college graduation.

I’ve read countless articles online and finished several books on the topic. Although their methods differ, they all ultimately point to the same destination: participate in capitalism.

To achieve financial freedom, you need to invest, buy real estate, build passive income, outsource, or mine crypto. For some reason, I feel a certain resistance toward this mindset. It’s true that embracing capitalism is the fastest way to financial freedom—thanks to the power of compounding interest, you can generate wealth without directly trading your time and labor.

But what about the people actually doing the work on the ground? Where does their hard work go? Does capitalism just siphon it all away? Honestly, I don’t know. Strictly speaking, I’m part of capitalism too—after all, I’m currently building a service designed to help capitalists make money more efficiently.

Yet looking at these people, I can’t help but think: they work so hard just to make a living, so are we really just supposed to exploit that, squeeze out every last drop of profit, and push capitalism to its extreme? Is there anything I can do to help?

Thinking about it more, there’s very little I can accomplish on my own. Perhaps the only viable path is to play along with capitalism first, and once I have more resources, figure out a way to make a difference. Until then, I’m just a white-collar worker living “slightly” better than average.

I saw a comment somewhere before: if deep, academic knowledge were truly beloved by the general public, writing research papers would have made people fortunes long ago. It’s true—compared to an algorithmic research paper, people would much rather pay for an algorithms course, ideally one bundled with LeetCode solutions. But I don’t think we should become cynical and feel like “nobody in the world understands me.” Instead, we should listen to the market. Although this creates another dilemma: compared to writing papers or conducting research—activities that genuinely advance human thought and science—people are naturally pushed toward easier, market-pleasing alternatives, like launching a course to make a quick buck.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what my next step should be. Every day I find myself lost, wondering what to do. GG.

Alright, that’s it for this rambling, structureless post. Thanks for reading, everyone.