There is Always a Way to Do It Better

By Gauri Naik

write for a living. Every time I step into my workplace, these words, etched on the wall, follow me as I make my way to my desk. They stick to the wall, firm, deliberate and demanding, serving as a nudge, a push, and the occasional stern indication for anyone to do anything, well, better.

There Is Always A Way To Do It Better.

Now, this statement happens to be what I call a Universally Correct Statement.

To put it simply, when we relied on electricity for lighting instead of our usual fire, and then relied on solar energy, we did better. To explain it further, that does not mean fire and electricity are out of use for lighting or for anything else. It wasn’t about erasure; it was about evolution and purpose. Doing better does not always mean doing away.

It means seeing what is, and doing what could be. When I think of doing better, only one person comes to mind, Friedrich Nietzsche. Specifically, the moment when he, in Thus Spake Zarathustra, declared:

"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?"

Because, I feel, the first universal caveat of doing better, figuratively and literally, was decreed here: to be free from one’s fate, to allow one to follow one’s destiny as one willed it.

Fatalism, by nature, is an enemy of ‘better’. It tells you that what will be, will be; that effort is ornamental, that action is futile, that destiny has already been written in ink too dark to overwrite. Fatalism breeds passivity, a kind of futile despair. Despair never invented a thing; it did not get anyone anywhere. Doing better, however, is a rebellion against that passivity. It is a refusal to accept what simply is as the limit of what can be. The fatalist waits for the weather to change; the doer invents the shelter, the umbrella, the roof, the waterproofing, and eventually, climate control.

To do better is to remould and remake one’s values - the very stepping stones of growth. In that, Nietzsche gave us one of his most potent ideas: the Übermensch or, as it’s often translated, the Superman.

The second universal caveat of doing better. Being your own determinant.

Hermann Hesse, in his book Demian, declared Nietzsche to have been the only one to have ever fulfilled his destiny. The Übermensch is Nietzsche’s idea of what each of us could become if we were not weighed down by inherited beliefs and moralities that no longer serve us.

The highest potential of humanity.

An individual unbound by outdated faiths or moral codes. This being embraces life in its entirety, determining value not by tradition but by self-authorship, and turns every condition into a canvas for growth and greatness. A being who accepts every joy and sorrow alike, who fashions meaning from within, carves purpose out of circumstance, and transforms existence itself into an act of self-creation.

But what do these words truly mean?

Because the concept of ‘doing better’ is paradoxical. Like many other things in life, it is both generalised and subjective. There is your better. There is their better. There is procedural better. There is situational better. There is circumstantial better. There is my better. Then, there is Better. Betty thought the butter might be better bitter, but it was better as better could have been better.

Since I belong to advertising, let me examine this question with three cases in point from the ad world:

1. Coca-Cola ‘Share a Coke’ Campaign (2011 – 2025)

Coca-Cola, a brand that seemed timeless, faced a real challenge in 2011: declining engagement among younger consumers and stagnating sales. The solution wasn’t a new formula or a price cut; it was advertising that reimagined how people interacted with the brand.

Conceptualised by Ogilvy Sydney, the ‘Share a Coke’ campaign replaced the iconic Coca-Cola logo with individual names, encouraging personalization and social sharing. Launched in Australia in 2011 and eventually expanded to over 120 countries, it invited consumers to find bottles with their names or the names of friends and share the experience on social media. In 2025, Coca-Cola refreshed the campaign for Gen Z with an app and further personalised experiences, such as the ‘Share a Coke Memory Maker’, an interactive digital experience to create personalised videos with their own content and memes to share with friends.

The results were tangible: a 7% increase in consumption among young adults in Australia, a 2% sales rise in the U.S., and over 500,000 photos shared on Instagram with # ShareACoke.

Coca-Cola didn’t just sell soda; it built a personal connection and, in doing so, did it better.

2. Nike ‘Just Do It’ Campaign (1988 – 2018) & ‘Why Do It’ Campaign (2025)

Launched in 1988, Nike's ‘Just Do It’ campaign was conceived by Wieden+Kennedy. The slogan was inspired by the final words of convicted murderer Gary Gilmore, "Let's do it," which Dan Wieden, co-founder of the agency, adapted to create a more universal and motivational message.

The campaign marked a pivotal shift for Nike, transitioning from a focus on products to promoting a lifestyle centred around personal empowerment and determination. It resonated with a broad audience, from elite athletes to everyday individuals, encouraging them to push beyond their limits.

Over the years, ‘Just Do It’ has become synonymous with Nike's brand identity, appearing alongside the iconic Swoosh logo. Beyond its commercial success, the campaign has had a significant cultural impact, featuring diverse athletes and addressing social issues. Notably, the 30th-anniversary ad in 2018 featured Colin Kaepernick, sparking conversations about activism and social justice.

In September 2025, Nike reintroduced its iconic ‘Just Do It’ slogan with a fresh perspective through the ‘Why Do It?’ campaign. This initiative aims to resonate with today's youth by reframing greatness as a choice rather than an outcome. The campaign encourages young athletes to embrace challenges, trust their potential, and take the first step toward their goals.

The campaign's anthem film features a diverse group of athletes, including Carlos Alcaraz, Saquon Barkley, LeBron James, Rayssa Leal, and Qinwen Zheng, showcasing the raw and authentic side of sports. The narrative emphasises that greatness is earned through consistent effort, resilience, and the courage to begin, even in the face of uncertainty.

Nicole Graham, Nike's EVP & Chief Marketing Officer, stated, "With 'Why Do It?', we’re igniting that spark for a new generation, daring them to step forward with courage, trust in their own potential and discover the greatness that unfolds the moment they decide to begin."

Here, doing better meant transforming not just how people saw a product, but how they saw themselves.

3. Old Spice ‘The Man Your Man Could Smell Like’ Campaign (2010)

In February 2010, Procter & Gamble launched this campaign with Wieden+Kennedy, showing an online commercial starring former NFL player Isaiah Mustafa. Towel-clad and charmingly irreverent, Mustafa addressed female viewers directly, convincing them that buying Old Spice body wash could make their men more like him, or at least smell like him. Premiering on YouTube during Super Bowl weekend, the ad quickly went viral, amassing over 26 million views.

Five months later, Old Spice elevated the campaign with ‘The Response Campaign’,  posting on Facebook and Twitter on July 13, 2010, inviting audiences to interact with Mustafa in real-time.

Over the next two days, he produced more than 180 personalised video responses to fans, celebrities, and influencers, creating a unique, intimate, and viral social media experience. This real-time engagement strategy set a precedent for interactive campaigns, demonstrating the power of personal connection in digital advertising. The campaign’s success was staggering: Twitter following increased 2,700%, Facebook fan interaction rose 800%, website traffic surged 300%, and Old Spice became the # 1 most-viewed branded YouTube channel at the time. Critically, it also won major awards, including a Primetime Emmy for Outstanding Commercial in 2010 and a Grand Prix at Cannes Lions in 2010. Sales mirrored the online success, with body wash revenue increasing 27% in six months and climbing 107% in the final month measured.

By combining humour, innovative storytelling, and social media interactivity, Old Spice proved how doing better, rethinking engagement and brand experience, can turn even a legacy product into a cultural phenomenon.

Advertising, at its core, is about influence, connection, and impact. Its ultimate goal is to sell, yes, but the truly remarkable campaigns do more than push products. They make people feel something. Coca-Cola didn’t just sell soda; it made sharing personal. Nike didn’t just sell shoes; it sold belief in one’s own potential. Old Spice didn’t just sell body wash; it turned humour and interaction into cultural conversation.

These campaigns succeeded because someone, somewhere, saw what was, imagined what could be, and acted to make it better. They remind us that doing better is not abstract; it is tangible, measurable, and human.

But the principle extends far beyond advertising. Since the Übermensch is ultimately about the individual, it makes sense to look at real people who embodied this spirit of doing better, in ways both big and small. Out of the numerous ones out there, let’s examine these people in point:

1. Taiichi Ohno (1912 – 1990)

In post-war Japan, Ohno rethought manufacturing itself. He identified seven types of waste, Muda, including overproduction, waiting, unnecessary transport, over-processing, excess inventory, unnecessary motion, and defects. Ohno realised that these wastes were the real enemy of efficiency and quality. He developed the Toyota Production System, emphasising Lean principles: minimising waste, optimising flow, and continuously improving every process. A key part of his philosophy was that every worker, from the assembly line to management, had the agency and responsibility to identify inefficiencies and improve them.

Ohno’s approach was revolutionary because it treated improvement not as a one-time fix but as a continuous journey. The Lean methodology he pioneered now underpins countless industries worldwide, from manufacturing to healthcare, logistics, and even software development. His philosophy, that perfection is not a static goal but a direction, turned Toyota into one of the most efficient and innovative systems globally.

Now known as the father of the Toyota Production System, Ohno’s vision captures the essence of the statement, ‘There is always a way to do it better’, not as a slogan, but as a way of life.

2. Hedy Lamarr (1914 – 2000)

Long celebrated as one of Hollywood’s most glamorous actresses, Hedy Lamarr was also a brilliant inventor whose contributions quietly reshaped modern communication. During World War II, radio-controlled torpedoes were vulnerable to jamming and interception, a problem that severely limited their effectiveness. Lamarr, together with composer George Antheil, co-invented a frequency-hopping system that allowed radio signals to rapidly switch across multiple frequencies, making transmissions far more secure and resistant to interference.

While Lamarr didn’t invent wireless communication itself, she dramatically improved it, enhancing reliability, security, and adaptability. The principles behind her invention laid the groundwork for key modern technologies such as Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, and even GPS. What makes her story remarkable is how she took an existing system and, with ingenuity and vision, reimagined it to unlock possibilities no one had foreseen. It is a reminder that ‘doing better’ is not always about starting from scratch; it can mean rethinking, refining, and extending what already exists to create a breakthrough.

3. G.D. Naidu (1893 – 1974)

A self-taught inventor from Coimbatore, Gopalaswamy Doraiswamy Naidu was a man who combined curiosity, ingenuity, and an intimate understanding of his surroundings. In an era when most technology in India was imported and ill-suited to local conditions, Naidu re-engineered machines to work better for Indian terrain and affordability. He built India’s first indigenous electric motor, developed tools and engines optimised for local industry, and even designed hybrid cultivation systems that helped farmers improve efficiency and yields.

His endeavours made him known as the ‘Edison of India’.

What sets Naidu apart is not just the scope of his inventions but the philosophy behind them. He didn’t seek recognition by creating novelty for novelty’s sake; instead, he looked at what existed and asked, “How can this be made better for the people who actually use it?” In doing so, he bridged innovation with practicality, creating technology that was accessible, functional, and meaningful in the Indian context. Here, ‘doing better’ meant understanding a problem deeply, tinkering with what already exists, and adapting it to create solutions that truly fit people’s lives.

But, what gives?

Why could an individual be pushed to the point of doing something great? Is necessity the real mother of invention, of evolution, of doing better? Of evolution it may be, of invention it might not.

Because history has told us that love, and love alone, has been responsible.

Consider William Stewart Halsted, a pioneering surgeon in the late 19th century, who invented rubber surgical gloves, not to win acclaim or improve surgical outcomes initially, but to protect the hands of his wife, Caroline, who suffered from skin irritation caused by harsh antiseptics. The gloves, now standard in operating theatres around the world, began as a gesture of care. “…I loved her to the point of invention.”, he’d said.

Or Earle Dickson, who saw his wife, Josephine, repeatedly cut herself while cooking. He didn’t set out to revolutionise first aid, yet his creation of the first adhesive bandage, what we now know as the Band-Aid, changed everyday medicine forever.

Even in the kitchen, love has guided creation. Alfredo di Lelio, seeing his pregnant wife lose her appetite, concocted the creamy, comforting Fettuccine Alfredo, a dish that would become globally beloved, proving that sometimes ‘doing better’ is as simple as easing the discomfort of someone you care for.

As far as the realm of daily convenience goes, John W. Hammes watched his wife struggle to dispose of food scraps and invented the garbage disposal, transforming a mundane household chore into something cleaner and faster. Similarly, Jordan Chesbro, inspired by his wife’s need for a playful, portable snack during travel, created the Goldfish cracker, delighting generations of children (and adults) along the way.

Love, in its purest form, became a catalyst for improvement.

These instances remind us that doing better is not always a response to systemic problems, market gaps, or grand societal challenges. Sometimes it is intensely personal, intimate, and driven by the desire to ease someone else’s burden. The spark of innovation, the seed of improvement, can often come from love, care, and empathy. It underscores a subtle truth: doing better is not only a cognitive or philosophical pursuit.

Doing better is also profoundly human.

Let me shift the lens slightly. Love need not only be directed outward; it can be turned inward, toward the work itself. When one loves what one does, when one cultivates passion, curiosity, and attachment to a craft, mediocrity becomes intolerable. There is a tension inherent in love: a refusal to accept the ordinary, a refusal to settle. Because love sees possibility where indifference sees completion.

Philosophers have long grappled with mediocrity. Aristotle spoke of the ‘mean’, moderation as virtue, but he also warned against the ‘commonplace’ life, the unexamined, the life that drifts along without striving for excellence. Nietzsche, in his writings, railed against herd morality, against values dictated by convention, comfort, and complacency.

To love your work is to reject the herd instinct; it is to say no to half-measures, to insist that the path you walk, the abilities you wield, and the contribution you make can always, must always, be better.

Love, in this sense, becomes both sword and compass. It is the sword that slices through laziness and routine, and the compass that directs effort toward meaning. The surgeon who endlessly refines technique, the engineer who tweaks a design late into the night, the artist who revisits a brushstroke again and again, all are guided by this dual force. It is a love that refuses to accept mediocrity because mediocrity, by its very nature, is an affront to what one cherishes.

Therein, love transforms into discipline, curiosity, and courage. It becomes the vessel of evolution - personal, professional, and societal.

Those who love what they do, do better not because the world demands it, but because their own standards, saturated by care and devotion, will not allow them to settle for anything less than their best.

This, then, is why I call it a Universally Correct Statement. Because, look around: at every corner of human history, at every triumph of ingenuity, at every small but deliberate act of improvement, this principle has proven itself true. From G.D. Naidu refining machines for Indian terrain, to Taiichi Ohno dismantling inefficiency at Toyota, improvement has always been possible.

Even when circumstances seemed fixed, or resources scarce, or knowledge incomplete, someone somewhere found a way to do it better. Someone always will. 

The same holds in the invisible ways of life. Love, for another, for a craft, for a purpose, has driven countless acts of betterment. Halsted created surgical gloves for his wife; Earle Dickson invented the Band-Aid for his; Hedy Lamarr improved wireless communication, inspired by her vision of possibility. Love made them restless with the status quo, intolerant of mediocrity, unwilling to settle for what simply existed.

In that refusal, in that restlessness, the world was made better.

There is always a way to do it better.

The statement is irrefutable. Fatalism would have us accept life as it is; Nietzsche would urge us to resist, against predetermined values, against herd mentality, against the ordinary.

The principle of ‘doing better’ rejects that passivity. It declares that life, like craft, like thought, is malleable. Improvement is not optional; it is inherent. The human condition, by its very nature, is unfinished, unfinished by design, unfinished because we are endowed with the curiosity, imagination, and drive to keep shaping it.

Even when ‘better’ is subjective - better for me, better for you, better for society, better for the world - the impulse remains the same. It is universal because it transcends circumstance, age, wealth, gender, or geography. It manifests in a child learning to walk, a craftsman perfecting his tool, an engineer redesigning a bridge, and an activist reshaping society. The urge to refine, to improve, to innovate, to correct, is woven into what it means to be human.

It is a law of human possibility, a truth revealed across centuries of invention, courage, and care. It is a guiding principle of progress, both personal and collective. It will remain so, as long as we dare to see, dare to act, and dare to refuse mediocrity.

So, when I see those words on my wall, most days I might not register them in such depth. They are part of the scenery of my morning routine, like the hum of the ceiling fan or the first sip of coffee. I pass by them each morning, perhaps without thought, perhaps with thought. Yet, every so often, they make me pause. They are both a gift and a challenge.

In their constancy lies their power: a simple, unarguable truth carved in stone (well, cement), for anyone willing to see it, accept it, and act on it.

There is always a way to do it better. Always.

On the concluding note,

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.