Let’s get that straight from the start.
Too many people confuse the two, like thinking a potluck and a soup kitchen are the same thing just because they both serve food. They’re not.
One is people showing up with their best dish to share. The other is everyone getting the same bowl whether they like it or not.
Collaboration is voluntary. It’s personal skin in the game. You bring your craft, your quirks, your lived experience, and put it on the table next to mine.
We both keep our fingerprints on what we contribute. That’s the point. The magic is in the mix.
Collectivism? That’s the flattening machine.
It says the individual doesn’t matter, only the group. Your edges get sanded down until you fit neatly into the box.
Your work gets swallowed by the ‘we’ until it no longer belongs to you, or anyone, really. Just the grey fog of the committee.
I’ve been in both worlds. In the late 90s, I was part of a ‘collaborative’ arts co-op that was really just collectivism in nice clothes.
Every project had to be approved by a panel. Every bold idea was voted down into mediocrity.
Nobody owned anything, so nobody cared enough to push it further. It was the creative equivalent of boiled cabbage.
And I’ve been part of true collaboration, the kind where two or three people come together with a shared aim but keep their autonomy.
No one’s asking you to dilute your style or seek permission. You work alongside, not under. You learn from each other without becoming each other.
Here’s the danger: collectivism dresses itself up as fairness.
It talks about ‘shared vision’ but means ‘shared control.’
Collaboration, on the other hand, thrives on difference. The friction is what sharpens the edge.
If you’ve ever worked on a book with a good editor, you know what I mean. They don’t rewrite your voice to sound like theirs. They help your voice carry further. That’s collaboration.
We need to stop letting collectivist thinking creep into our creative and business spaces.
The moment you find yourself afraid to take a risk because ‘it might not fit the group,’ you’re done.
The moment you stop owning your contribution, you’ve already lost it.
So here’s my rule: collaborate like a jazz band, not a marching band. Listen to each other, riff off each other, but keep your sound.
The moment someone tells you to play in unison all the time, pack your instrument and walk.
Collaboration builds. Collectivism blurs.
Choose the one that leaves you more yourself at the end.