by Berend Booms, Associate Editor, Future of Assets
As the first entry in this alphabet series, it feels appropriate to begin with the fundamentals. When it comes to defining what an asset truly is, the explanation is often deceptively simple. In practice, that simplicity quickly falls apart. Assets come in many shapes, sizes, and forms. They can be physical or digital, visible or hidden, tangible or abstract. A wind turbine, a pump, a data center, a rail network, a piece of software, or even a dataset: if it has value and is worth maintaining, it is an asset.
One of the core responsibilities of asset management is recognizing that diversity. Different assets require different approaches. Every asset has its own operating context, a particular risk profile, a unique lifecycle, and failure modes that demand tailored strategies. A one-size-fits-all maintenance approach rarely works. Good asset management starts with understanding what you are dealing with, before deciding how to manage it. Those same principles extend far beyond the world of assets and maintenance.
People also come in many shapes, sizes, and forms. We all have different strengths, sensitivities, ways of thinking, and ways of experiencing the world. Yet unlike most physical assets, people do not come with instruction manuals. There is no standard operating procedure for understanding how someone thinks, processes information, or responds to their environment. This is especially true when that person is neurodivergent.
A is for Assets, Also for Autism
I found out about my neurodivergence at a relatively late age. In hindsight, a lot of things suddenly made sense. Growing up, I often felt out of sync with the world around me. I vividly remember going to my friend’s birthday party when I was around six years old, playing football in the street, making drawings, and eating pancakes. At the end of the party, I was confronted with how different I was: while all the other boys had drawn Gabber logos (a style of Dutch hardcore music that was popular at the time), I had drawn kittens. It made perfect sense to me because I love kittens; it was only in seeing the comparison that I understood that I stood outside the norm. Although I did not understand why at the time, I internalized that for me, navigating the world requires an enormous amount of effort, self-monitoring, and adaptation.
In asset management terms, I was trying to operate without a baseline. I sensed there was something different about how I worked, but I lacked the framework to understand it. Without that understanding, it is easy to internalize friction as failure, and to assume the problem lies with you, rather than with a mismatch between your needs and the environment you are operating in.
That is why context matters so much. In asset management, performance is never judged in isolation, but always in relation to a baseline and the conditions an asset operates in. Those conditions inform how we manage, maintain, and support it; you would never apply the same maintenance strategy to a high-speed rotating asset as you would to a static asset. Yet we are often far less forgiving with people.
"In asset management, performance is never judged in isolation, but always in relation to a baseline and the conditions an asset operates in. Those conditions inform how we manage, maintain, and support it; you would never apply the same maintenance strategy to a high-speed rotating asset as you would to a static asset. Yet we are often far less forgiving with people."
Autism does not present itself in a single, consistent way, nor does it fit neatly into a universal profile. It exists on a spectrum, where variation is the norm rather than the exception, and where differences in how people think, process, and experience the world are simply part of reality. Just as in asset management, acknowledging that reality is the essential first step toward understanding, supporting, and ultimately managing things well. That understanding took on a very different meaning once I became a parent.
My oldest son was diagnosed with autism at an early age, and while navigating that diagnosis has not always been easy, I am very glad that we know. That knowledge changes everything: it allows us to seek the right support, to align and adapt to him rather than constantly asking him to adapt to his environment, and to focus on helping him understand himself instead of leaving him to wonder why things feel harder than they should.
Knowledge is Power
In asset management, early insight into risk and potential failure is invaluable. The sooner you understand where an asset is vulnerable, under what conditions it may struggle, and how failure might manifest, the more effectively you can design maintenance strategies, reduce risk, and unlock value over time. When that insight comes too late, the result is often higher costs, unnecessary failures, and missed potential. The same is true for people.
My son will still face challenges, because autism does not disappear simply by being understood. But understanding does provide a foundation: it allows us to move from reactive responses to thoughtful, intentional support, to recognize strengths alongside needs, and, over time, to help him come into his own with confidence, self-awareness, and agency. This is exactly why the connection between asset and autism feels so real to me. At their core, both remind us that value comes in many forms, and that diversity calls for intention rather than assumption. Good management of assets, systems, or people begins with understanding and respect for differences. When we take the time to truly understand what we are responsible for, we do more than prevent failure: we create the conditions for growth. That, to me, is what the future is really about.