In 1970, Future Shock by Alvin Toffler was published. The book addressed the psychological paralysis induced by too much, too swift societal and technological change.
To most of us now, 1970 seems a far simpler, more innocent time. Yes, massive upheavals were underway, such as civil rights, feminism, anti-war movements, psychedelics, peace, love, revolution, with innovations arriving at breakneck speed. In fact, pollution was worse then than today. Smog blanketed cities; people died on bad smog days. Acid rain was a big problem.
It was an unprecedented time. Yet, compared to life at the end of the first quarter of the 21st century, it seems slow, measured, almost pastoral.
What do we call what’s happening now? Technology is eating the planet. Suffering, human and animal, is off the scale. Social changes move too fast to track. AI is being rolled out—pushed out—without restraint.
Nearly as many data centres are under construction as already exist in the U.S., many in residential areas. The Trump administration is forbidding all regulation on AI development and rollout, and European countries are adopting this stance to imitate (and placate) the Americans.
The speed of change today feels light years beyond that of even three or four years ago. It keeps accelerating. There seems no way to slow the train, let alone get off. It’s dizzying, worse than dizzying. It’s numbing, hypnotizing, mentally enslaving us. We did not evolve to navigate these conditions. Our brains can’t keep up.
As always, it’s hardest on the young. Growing up in this world is turning many children into tired, cynical veterans of change. Young people now face a choice.
Some ride the train, play by the rules, invest everything they are in the pursuit of advancement and, let’s face it, survival. Others feel forced to choose hedonism and a virtual existence.
It’s too hard to make friends as an adult. Dating apps are a nightmare, and there’s no other way to meet people because everyone is either constantly busy or staying home, waiting for the end of the world.
These young people live online, joining subcultures, adopting a virtual existence not because they don’t want real life but because, for so many embedded in urban internet land, there is no real life left.
It’s a disheartening view of modern culture, but a common one. And it makes me hyper-aware of two things: God, we are so lucky here! Hornby kids are still kids, immersed in nature. And God, we are so endangered. We are a vanishing breed. The bulldozers are chewing up the world, and we are in the way.
Do we sit back and enjoy our blessed existence until the changes eat our island too? Shrug and say, oh well, you can’t stand in the way of progress? Give up, sigh, shrink, pretend it’s okay or quietly hate what’s happening?
What else is there to do? Everyone has a voice, a pulpit, a medium, yet nobody gets a real say. Democracy isn’t a thing anymore, if it ever was. We can say whatever we want, and none of it affects those in power. Will the world change because I want it to? Not likely. Will it change if everyone here bands together, stands firm and demands it? On a global scale, also not likely.
The bulldozers are inexorable. Yes, we can slow them, stop some, direct the changes to minimize damage, if we stand firmly together. But one community standing apart can have little greater effect on the whole than a single individual.
First, we need to come together to take a stand, then band with other communities doing the same. In that way, we might organically grow a true grassroots revolution to change society’s priorities from the ground up. If enough of us say no, perhaps we’ll buy time to find more sustainable, earth-loving technologies, a way forward to a future that includes nature and the wild world. We need that.
So many discoveries are emerging to teach us a better way. Science has made it undeniable that Earth is a living, interdependent, cooperative community—not an inert ball of resources. Animals are sentient beings that should not, in any world, be treated as products. Evidence is growing that the universe itself is an interconnected field of consciousness. As a species, we are committing appalling crimes against nature, life, consciousness, and the planet that made us.
What’s being done in the name of our appetites is monstrous, perverse, impossible to conceive. It hurts my brain to think about it.
And yet, I must think about it. It’s the least I can do. Denial will dig our grave. We have to break out of it, one brain at a time. I’m doing my part in my way.
Small things can have a great result if enough people participate. We don’t need to give everything up or return to a hunter-gatherer life (though, if we continue down this path, we may be forced to!).
For instance, if I don’t upgrade my phone until I actually need to, that has a tiny effect. If more and more of us choose to make things last instead of racing for the newest, bestest thing—well, as long as there’s demand, there will be supply. There are so many small changes we could each choose.
Yes, the biggest things are out of our control. I don’t know what to do about them. But it can start small. What underlying human needs drive our desire for the newest thing? What can we do differently? It’s something to think about. I think about it constantly.
That’s what I think. What do you think? Email me at phoenixonhornby@gmail.com
