We have a technology problem – and it probably isn't what you think
Technology innovation is often seen as a problem or a solution when it comes to building better futures. But the relationship between tech and the future is far more complex than this.
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been asked if I’m a techno-pessimist or a techno-optimist. It’s a frustrating question as it makes little sense to me. It’s a bit like asking if I’m an oxygen pessimist or optimist — “neither” is the answer of course as oxygen is integral to who I am, and not an add-on that I can take or leave.
The oxygen analogy is a clunky one. But it does capture the idea that technology is so deeply integrated into who we are as individuals and as a species that to treat it as something other than this is misleading — and potentially dangerous.
This is something I’ve been grappling a lot with recently. And this article is, if I’m honest, part of my process of trying to marshal my thoughts. As such this is very much a work in progress. But at the heart of it is a problem with how we approach technology transitions that I worry is setting us up for failure as we face an uncertain future.
Much of my work involves the deeply intimate and convoluted relationship between people, technology and the future. To me, understanding this relationship is essential to ensuring a future of human flourishing on an equally flourishing planet. Yet as I work with others who see technology as something apart from who we are and what we do, I often find myself trying to support them without overtly challenging their non tech-centric worldview.
It’s a form of technology apologetics that’s been part of my professional life for decades — and one that intentionally seeks to support others where they are at in their thinking. But I’m beginning to question its wisdom, especially as I would argue that our collective identity and trajectory as a species can only be truly understood through the complex relationships between people, technology, and the future.
Of course, there are many existing academic disciplines and areas of scholarship that study and draw on aspects of this relationship. Science and technology studies (in all its various flavors), history, philosophy, the ethics of science and technology, responsible innovation, science policy, technology governance — these areas and many more strive to understand parts of the human-technology-future puzzle. But having worked across many of these fields, I’m not convinced that they have the breadth of vision and the integration of understanding that is necessary to effectively navigate the advanced technology transitions that are looming on humanity’s horizon.
These are transitions that are being driven by accelerating advances in science and technology, and they include AI (and possibly AGI), gene editing, biotechnology, quantum technologies, neuroscience, robotics, nanoscale science and engineering, large-scale automation, virtual and extended reality, and much more.
Individually these represent technologies that are enabling us to imagine futures that were inconceivable just a few decades ago. Together, they are synergistically accelerating the rate of transformative change between past and future beyond anything we’ve ever experienced as a species.
Successfully navigating the world-changing transitions these technologies will bring about is is perhaps one of the greatest challenges facing humanity today — get it right and we open up near-unimaginable possibilities, but get it wrong and we risk catastrophic failures.
And yet navigating advanced technology transitions is rarely seen in this light. Rather, it’s the more tangible problems that are immediately front of us that tend to absorb our collective attention.
These include, but are far from limited to, climate change, sustainable development, transcending planetary boundaries, misinformation and disinformation, the rise of populism, loneliness, geopolitics, social equity, and democratic decision-making. These and more are part of a shifting landscape of complex problems that currently face humanity, and all of them are important. What’s more, few of them come across as being primarily technological-based issues.
Yet none of these challenges make sense outside the context of thousands of years of an evolving relationship between humanity and technology.
Despite this, it’s rare that global problems are approached through the lens of this relationship. And this, to me, presents a behemoth of a technology problem.
By assuming that technology is something we do and not something we are; by compartmentalizing our approaches to the relationship between people, technology, and the future; and by assuming that everything will turn out OK because it’s always done so in the past; we are setting ourselves up for failure in the technologically advanced futures we’re striving to create.
If this is the case though, what should we doing about it?
The honest answer is that we don’t yet know. But a starting point is surely to put technology at the core of everything we’re doing to ensure a future of human flourishing on a healthy planet — not as a solution to be implemented, nor as a problem to be addressed, but as something that is part of the very DNA of being human in a future that’s increasingly of our own making.
This, though, means recognizing that understanding the complex dynamics between people, technology, and the future is absolutely vital to ensuring human flourishing. It also means acknowledging that focusing on global challenges without centering them around our complex and collective relationships with technology severely limits the development of effective pathways forward. And it demands a creation and sharing of knowledge, understanding, and practice, that transcends conventional disciplines and areas of expertise at a scale that we’re rarely seen before.
I would add to this that it suggests the need for a new breed of institutions, thought leaders, scholars, graduates, and organizational leadership, that can help successfully steer society through coming advanced technology transitions.
A colleague recently used the term “pilot” in this context, and I think it’s a good one. We need pilots — whether they are institutions, communities, or individuals — that can guide us through perilous waters toward a technologically complex future where both people and planet flourish together.
At this point a well considered and written article would wrap up with a compelling call to action. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have one. As I mentioned at the outset, this is very much a work in progress.
That said, it’s becoming increasingly clear that we need to rethink the relationship between technology, people, and the future, if we’re to thrive as a species. But the reality is that there are currently no clear pathways forward, no cut and dried blueprints for success, no best-selling “how to” books that will reliably get us to a positive future. All we have is a growing number of indicators that our collective thinking about tech and the future needs to change — and fast.
What happens next is up to us. Will we continue to act as if technology — like oxygen — is simply something we’re for or against? Or will we learn to leverage the drive to innovate that is part of the very essence of who we are, as we face a future that is unlike anything we’ve previously experienced?
Afterword
In writing this, there was one in particular point that I couldn’t find an easy way to weave into the narrative, but that I did want to at least mention:
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about what we should be teaching students now to prepare them for the future. That article contained six areas that I think will remain relevant for some time, including what it means to be human, what it means to flourish, what it means to be part of something bigger than us, how to maintain balance, how to create opportunities, and how to build positive futures.
Looking back over these, I realize that while the relationship between people, technology, and the future is implicit in some of them, it isn’t overtly there.
Thinking more about this, I would probably add a cross-cut area. And that would be teaching students about humanity’s long and complex past relationship with technology, and how this in turn impacts how we think about, design, and co-create the future.
This would necessarily be highly transdisciplinary, drawing on everything from the arts and humanities to engineering, science, business, innovation, and governance. And it would be a warts-and-all deep dive into how technology defines us and how we in turn define the technologies that mould the world we inhabit, the lives we live, and the futures we aspire to.
Such a cross-cut could be highly impactful in developing practical skills and understanding for piloting society through advanced technology transitions. And just as importantly, it’s likely to lead to a set of competencies that are going to be in demand for some decades yet.
I like how you emphasize the need for breadth, depth, and integration in learning about the past of human relationships with technology in the Afterword. Interestingly enough, these are dimensions of polymathy, and this is what attracted me to your article – it appeared to be highly polymathic. In my book "Why Polymaths?", I arrive at the conclusion that the future is polymathic.
You might consider Rebecca Solnit's distinction between optimists, pessimists, and the hopeful.
> Hope locates itself in the premises that we don’t know what will happen and that in the spaciousness of uncertainty is room to act. When you recognise uncertainty, you recognise that you may be able to influence the outcomes – you alone or you in concert with a few dozen or several million others. Hope is an embrace of the unknown and the unknowable, an alternative to the certainty of both optimists and pessimists. Optimists think it will all be fine without our involvement; pessimists adopt the opposite position; both excuse themselves from acting. It is the belief that what we do matters even though how and when it may matter, who and what it may impact, are not things we can know beforehand. We may not, in fact, know them afterwards either, but they matter all the same, and history is full of people whose influence was most powerful after they were gone.
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jul/15/rebecca-solnit-hope-in-the-dark-new-essay-embrace-unknown