This Moment Isn't That Special

Picture generated by AI based on the text of this post.

I'm a self-proclaimed optimistic futurist. While I've been adopted a wait-and-see or give-it-more-time approach to certain technologies, I've also been an early adopter of those technologies I see as most promising. At work, I am a problem solver and lead a team of problem solvers. In my personal life, I strive for a more perfect, automated, easy, comfortable life. I read a lot, I write a lot, I think a lot. A lot of what I study, think and write about is the future - technology, economics, culture, systems, everything that we humans can control and mold towards a more perfect protopian future. 

So it's no surprise the algorithms recommended to me a show about the future, and I obligingly watched it. Underwhelming is an understatement. But more than that, I had a visceral reaction to some of the claims made. Now, granted, this wasn't an expert account from a fellow futurist. It was hosted and organized by a futurist, but the interviews were with various groups of people operating at various levels of exceptionalism, including absolute normalcy. 

Many of the claims from the interviewees that bothered me the most was the repeated notion that we're presently at an inflection point - in technology, environment and political concerns, yes, but more so - in our actual humanity. The fear that AI will take our jobs and modes of artistic creation such that it robs us of our ability to perceive and create, and that we therefore need to decide what the minimal viable requirements are to call ourselves human, and defend those things, was a few steps too far for me. 

Rather than being compelled by these empowered individuals seeing an opportunity to seize this turning point and make the world a better place, I actually started considering that people in the 1970's probably thought the same thing, and people in the 1930's, and people during the Renaissance, and how many other times in our human history? 

See, fears about technology replacing humans has been around for decades or centuries. Is this time different? Sure, there are arguments for that. But different, how? We're already seeing a backlash against generative AI not delivering the promises of complete automation and replacement of people, and the ROI is in question across the board. It has great potential, to be sure, but we've also identified very early on its tendency to hallucinate and provide complete inaccurate information with great confidence. It's flaws and faults were seen before anyone even noticed it wasn't delivering those promises of employee displacement. So why in the world did we even let those fears build up, and why are we surprised now about the fall of the hype? 

The political unrest is a lot. But is it more than we've seen before? What were those hippies protesting anyways? 

Violence is actually down in many areas. 

Mental health awareness has grown in leaps and bounds. 

The last two thoughts may actually be connected. How cool is that? 

But no, I am struck by actually had ordinary this time is. So why do so many people think we are at a turning point? Is it empowering to this "now is our moment?" If so, if that's what you need to feel compelled to act in a way that will positively improve the future, then go ahead and think that. But will you be disappointed when it turns out it was just another year in another decade with another technology that was interesting? 

Sometimes when I tell people I'm an optimist, they respond that they'd rather be realists. I mean, I get it. I'm not blind to the problems, nor do I want to ignore them. I like to believe I am centered in realism, but with an optimistic direction, rather than a doomsday view of the world. But when I heard these proclamations that now is the time to change the direction of humanity, I felt like those pessimists parading as realists. 

Rather than thinking it's now or never, I believe we wake up every day with the potential of what that day could bring, what we could accomplish. I used to wake up long before dawn and go running or walking in the dark. There's a conspiratory feeling that would wash over me that I'm up before everyone else and therefore I got a head start on them today. I don't walk or run outside currently because I hate Texas, so I don't get this feeling as frequently right now. But I still hold the potential of each day we get in high regard. And a year from now, five years from now, two decades from now, I hope I will still wake up every day with a day of potential ahead of me.