We are all overwhelmed. Anyone who claims otherwise isn’t paying attention. Every day brings a new wave of invitations: subscribe to this newsletter, follow that person, join this group, watch this video, listen to this podcast, stay informed. The volume alone is exhausting. But volume isn’t the real problem.
The deeper frustration is not knowing what to trust, or even what is shaping what we’re seeing. Algorithms decide. Incentives distort. Promotion often masquerades as insight. The filters are opaque, and the result is a constant tug of war for our attention.
There’s a quiet anxiety underneath all of this. The fear of missing something important. The worry that the one thing you didn’t read, didn’t watch, didn’t catch might matter. So we keep consuming. We skim. We save articles we’ll never revisit. We stay “busy,” even when we’re not sure we’re getting smarter or more grounded.
If this feels familiar, it’s worth saying plainly: This isn’t a personal failing. It’s structural. The modern information economy pushes the cost of distraction downstream to the decision maker. Content creators are rewarded for frequency, certainty and engagement. Platforms are rewarded for keeping us scrolling. None of that is designed to protect judgment. The burden of sorting signal from noise falls entirely on the reader, who is already short on time and carrying real responsibility.
That is especially true in institutional investing and private wealth advisory. The stakes here are not abstract. We make decisions on behalf of clients, beneficiaries, retirees, endowments, foundations. Fiduciary duty isn’t a slogan. It is a legal, ethical and practical obligation to act with care, loyalty and discipline. Being busy is not a substitute for being right. And consuming more information does not automatically lead to better decisions.
One of the most damaging confusions I see is the belief that our job is to keep up. It isn’t. Our job is to decide. To allocate capital wisely. To assess risk soberly. To distinguish between what’s interesting and what’s consequential. Yet the content flood blurs that distinction. Activity starts to feel like progress. Exposure starts to feel like understanding. It’s seductive — and dangerous.
Many respond by trying to follow better sources. That instinct makes sense, but it rarely works for long. Sources multiply. Even good ones change as incentives shift. Some evolve from analysis to promotion. Others drift toward performance or certainty, because that’s what the audience rewards. And the filters shaping distribution — what shows up first, what gets amplified, what quietly disappears — are usually invisible to us.
So what’s the alternative? It requires a shift in how we choose. Not more discipline. Not better tools. A different unit of focus. Instead of choosing sources, we choose questions.
Serious decision makers don’t need to know everything. They need clarity on a manageable number of questions that actually matter to the decisions in front of them. Questions tied to fiduciary obligations, not intellectual curiosity alone. Questions that frame what deserves attention now, and — just as important — what can safely be ignored for the moment.
When questions come first, content has to earn its way in. It’s no longer about who said it, how polished it is or how often it appears in your feed. The test becomes simpler and tougher: Does this help me think more clearly about one of the questions that directly affects my ability to do my job well?
That shift changes everything. Subscriptions stop being permanent commitments and become provisional. What doesn’t sharpen judgment loses its claim on your time. Monitoring gets separated from thinking. Light awareness is fine — we all need context — but deep synthesis requires protection. And when something truly deserves your attention, it should leave a mark. If it doesn’t change how you see a problem, it probably wasn’t worth the time it took.
There is also an uncomfortable but necessary practice that comes with this: intentional ignorance. Choosing not to follow most things. Accepting that you will miss a great deal — and that this is not only acceptable, but responsible. In fiduciary roles, distraction isn’t neutral. It has consequences: missed risks, overconfidence, decisions nudged by loudness rather than relevance.
Failing to meet fiduciary obligations doesn’t just invite regulatory or legal scrutiny. It erodes trust. And once trust is lost — whether with clients, beneficiaries, boards or partners — it is extraordinarily difficult to recover. Attention, in this context, is not a personal preference. It is part of the duty of care.
This is where leadership shows up quietly. Not in how much you consume, but in how deliberately you choose. In your willingness to say no to most inputs so that you can say yes, fully and thoughtfully, to the few that matter. In guarding originality — not for its own sake, but because clear, independent thinking is the foundation of sound judgment.
The content flood is not going away. If anything, it will intensify. The filters shaping what we see will become harder, not easier, to understand. Which means the responsibility to choose with care falls even more squarely on us. Don’t let opaque systems decide what you believe matters. Reclaim that responsibility. Treat attention as part of your fiduciary duty. Ignore more. Think better. Decide with intention.
Meanwhile, it’s important to be careful. Be very, very careful. It’s a wacky world out there.
Geoffrey Dohrmann is chairman and CEO of Institutional Real Estate Inc., publisher of Real Assets Adviser.
