The Future of “Continuity” (of The Machine) 👹

Carnivorous plants fascinated me as a child. Still do. They offer such a tantalising and sumptuous platform, often optimised for ‘stickiness’ (aka “user retention”). So convenient, too. Of course, by the time an insect realises something’s not-quite-right, it’s too late—they’re trapped.

There is a parallel here to artificial intelligence, and many privately owned centralised platforms and services that feast upon your attention and harvest your data (whilst sculpting you into the perfect product).

But it can be hard for most of us to see the entrapment until it’s far too late. And, even if you can see it, it’s hard to know quite what to do. Particularly if all of your friends are on it.

Thankfully, I have friends who can look at the future with both eyes open. Friends with perspicacity and wit enough to see through and past the compelling illusions and false enchantments of our times.

Simon Waller is one such friend (and a brilliant speaker, futurist and strategist). I was recently on his wonderful podcast—aptly named The Future With Friends—to explore a scenario wherein we continue, as we are, into the future.

Coming up with a scenario was unexpectedly delightful. My previous reservations were the result of seeing this done so poorly, whereas Simon’s approach aligns closely with my approach to quest-augmented strategy. That is, strategic plans aren’t the point—it’s the planning that matters. Because here we immerse ourselves in possibility, and which gives us new perspectives on our relationality, deepens our appreciation for the complexity we are in, and grants greater acuity for the weak signals that might lead us to better ways.

We approach this conversation in two parts. First, The Future of Continuity (of The Machine). Then, The Future of Continuity (of Life). Simon’s podcast is so warm and wonderful—and it has in part inspired the relaxed episodes I have enjoyed with our Kindred Spirits podcast.

I have one caveat, before we get into it: riverside—the software we used to record the episode—decided to apply some heavy-handed processing on my audio, giving my voice some crackle, with aggressive auto-levelling. I don’t think the software can quite handle two friends having such a good time as Simon and I did—our quips and interjections seem to catch it unawares.

So, my encouragement to you is: watch the video versions. Or even listen to the video versions. It’s a better experience than the podcast, this time.

The Future of Continuity (of The Machine) 👹

Here we explore what our world might look like if we were to continue on our current trajectory.

Here’s the first part of the scenario I wrote and shared with Simon, lightly edited by a shoggoth.

The world I depict here is really one in which the current trajectories are extrapolated. A world of mass extinction, ubiquitous corporate surveillance, the privatisation of governance, extreme wealth inequality, and ecological catastrophe.

It was informed via many things, including—but not limited to—my background in environmental science and eco-philosophy, extrapolations (the sometimes good, sometimes terrible TV series), science-fiction like The Windup Girl and The Hunger Games, books such as Breaking Together, the last half-decade of becoming more versed in our metacrisis than I’d like to be, and of generally paying attention to what is (and isn’t) happening in our world.

The country from within which I write leads the world in arresting protesters calling for climate action and environment protection. (We jail whistleblowers who expose war crimes, too.) You can also lose your job if you are critical of a certain country that is currently under investigation by the International Criminal Court for crimes against humanity, and for undertaking what is plain for all to see is a textbook case of gënöcïdë.*

* I’m referencing the Israeli Jewish scholar Raz Segal here, who is an associate professor of Holocaust and gënöcïdë studies at Stockton University. I wrote of this in my Moral Courage piece, 590 days ago. I lost a few hundred subscribers with that post, and some client work, too. So be it.

It is cheaper to pollute than it is to protest pollution in this country. In January this year, Santos spilled around 25,000 litres of oil into the Indian Ocean. The multi-billion-dollar company was fined $10,000 for it.

Teachers pay more tax than the oil and gas industry. Nurses pay more tax than the oil and gas industry. The government also collects more tax from students than it does from the Petroleum Resource Rent Tax.

But there’s hope, right? Ha—wrong! 😅

Nah just kidding, there is. 🧡 But it will likely only emerge through the calamity and collapse induced by capitalism—not via capitalism itself, as Professor Jason Hickel succinctly elucidates:

‘The writing is on the wall. Over the past two years, several major investment firms have abandoned their climate pledges, openly admitting that green transition is not profitable enough for them. This should be a clarifying moment for all of us: capital cannot be trusted to resolve the climate crisis. We are staring failure in the face and careening toward a very bleak future indeed.’

But what happens if we don’t listen to these warnings? What happens if we just Keep Calm and Carry On? Ignore the naysayers, party-poopers and doomsters—just Stay Positive. Accelerate! Continue to place your faith in The Naïve Progress Narrative, billionaires, and megacorps.

Well, that’s what this first scenario—and our conversation—explores.

A note on AI scepticism

One of the things I relished in my conversation with Simon is that he is one of the rare few futurists who are willing to take a quite sober look at what’s emerging, and where these trends might lead. He’s not drunk on techno-optimism, nor is he the kind of mercenary chameleon futurist that will ride one hype wave to the next, making bold claims like the future is all about [gamification!] then [augmented reality!] then [remote work!] then [crypto!] then [metaverse!] then [artificial intelligence!] then whatever narrative the market favours next. [Ultra nationalism!] or [corporate serfdom!] probably.

You know by now that, whilst I have worked with teams for the past decade who have been exploring, experimenting, and working with artificial intelligence—I still harbour deep concerns. But these are mostly from a 4th-person (pluralistic and meta-systemic) perspective. From a first-person perspective, AI is mostly great!

About a year ago I shared 12 recommendations to help you wisen up about artificial intelligence. Some of these seem to have an antimemetic quality to them, in that no matter how often I try to share them, the uptake is very low.

But it seems to me that there is a shift happening in the conference landscape. It tends to follow the hype cycle.

Two years ago I wrote a piece on Artificially Intelligent influencers, arguing that we must become connoisseurs of thought.

The curse of being a good futurist is that you are usually a few steps ahead of the general public (or at least, one would hope). And so the choice is to either be intellectually honest and dash some cold water on the inflated expectations of your audience (all their naïvely projected hopes and dreams), or be mercenary and ‘give them what they want’ (which is: validation, entertainment, and sweet lies in the form of narrative fallacy). I choose to be intellectually honest (like a fox).

But, as I say, I am heartened to see a shift. My friend, the incredible speaker and strategist Alicia McKay (who has long been ahead of the game) recently wrote a brilliant piece on What the AI Bros Won’t Tell You. This is richly linked and thoroughly researched. And her message is timely and resonant:

‘Conferences are high-priced, high-possibility gatherings. Hundreds of powerful people – executives, policymakers, and civic leaders - invest time and money to learn and connect. These people distribute funds, influence legislation, design organisations and shape communities. The room should hum with rich discussion about the future of work, democracy and public life.

Instead, we get lightweight tutorials and uncritical hype.

Worse, these crappy keynotes entrench a cultural myth: that technology is an inevitable, unstoppable force. Politicians and communities can only hang on for the ride and watch what happens.

I call bullshit.’

Gosh it’s such a good article.

One more note about this scenario—The Future of Continuity (of The Machine)—and this is important:

‘We are very systematically betraying the youth.’

This was a line from Dr. Zak Stein, a philosopher of education. Zak recently shared a conversation with Nate Hagens on The Great Simplification podcast. If you care about children, this is an episode worth listening to.

I would even go as far as to say that much of the world is run by adolescent boy-men in adult bodies. Folks seeking to optimise and ‘win’ whatever finite game they are playing—no matter the cost.

What we need, more than ever, is folks willing to step up, with integrity, and to take some responsibility. To play a better, bigger, and more mythic role in the infinite game, and the futures we are co-creating.

It’s one thing for bugs to get eaten by carnivorous plants—it’s quite another to sacrifice our children to The Machine. That’s pure MØŁØCĦ shit right there.

Choosing to not choose

Whenever I am working with teams in strategy development, we develop a quiver of options—strategic initiatives we can experiment with, should the right conditions manifest. But there’s a hidden option we have to make explicit—the default option of doing nothing differently. The option of simply carrying on, as we are. Reacting to whatever emerges, rather than co-creating.

Choosing to not choose is still a choice. And, like all choices, it has implications.

This is what part one of our conversation on The Future With Friends explores. It assumes no mass solidarity movements, no major consciousness awakenings, and no civic uprisings. Gratitudes to Simon for such gracious hosting.

I’ll be back with a museletter on part two of this scenario, wherein we focus on The Continuity of Life (rather than The Machine). A scenario that depicts a world more curious and kind (even amidst a future that’s grim).

Much warmth,
—fw