Another Trip Around the Sun
As unlikely as it may seem, today marks the start of my 46th trip around the sun. The number doesn’t feel especially high. Some days, I wouldn’t be surprised if it were closer to 60—not because of my physical condition, but because of how I perceive the passage of time. For most of my conscious life, I’ve managed to fit 40 hours of activity into each calendar day. Sitting around and doing nothing is fine once or twice a month, but it’s not something I’m particularly interested in doing with my limited time on this planet. There are always more books to read, more projects to work on, more ideas to explore, more hobbies to dive into, more disparate data points to connect. When I’m not engaged in some kind of meaningful pursuit, I feel utterly useless to the world. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy writing so much.
And it’s this sort of writing that seems to encourage people to ask some interesting questions.
Lately, I’ve been told—more than once—that I seem very much in favour of software replacing people, wrenching innocent bystanders from stable lifestyles into lives of uncertainty and privation. My articles on AI clearly touch a nerve, and I understand why. A lot of people, myself included, will be affected by the changes coming over the next decade. Those who can retire soon will likely bide their time. Those who cannot may worry that the value they bring to the world is not only overpriced, but altogether obsolete. That’s a very real fear. One I take seriously enough to invest a great deal of time in learning how to use these new tools—not just to stay relevant, but to reduce my risk of irrelevance altogether.
One of the gifts that comes with age is perspective. We begin to see that humanity moves through patterns, often in cycles. These cycles tend to accelerate with population growth, and decelerate in times of large-scale devastation. Ultimately, the speed of these patterns depends on how many people are participating. As of this writing, there are approximately 8.2 billion humans on Earth. The vast majority are participating in at least one of these patterns—what we might call “cultures” on a macro scale—out of necessity. We all need food, water, clothing, and shelter. Most of us want friends and family. Most of us want to have something useful to do every day. And so, we join communities that perpetuate patterns that help meet these needs.
The current global pattern is one of metamorphosis. We, as a species, are on the edge of witnessing something entirely new emerge from our collective efforts. I say “collective” because anyone connected to the modern world is participating in the evolution of our systems. We can be contributors—building or supporting the infrastructure needed to sustain today’s world—or we can be detractors, introducing entropy and tearing things down. This sort of yin and yang has existed for as long as people have walked on two legs and fashioned tools from sticks and stones. Like many, I’ve generally leaned toward contribution: building systems to help others reach their goals, and occasionally breaking things that seem illogical or counterproductive along the way.
A classic lower-case “l” liberal mindset.
It’s that mindset that has me looking at the tidal changes ahead not with fear, but with a sense of inevitability—and even a bit of curiosity. These changes are coming whether we welcome them or not. There is no halting the march of technology without tremendous bloodshed—something we should all think twice about before considering as a viable option.
Change has always stirred anxiety. When cars replaced horses, there were protests. When electric heaters took over from wood-burning stoves, people questioned the reliability and safety of the “new” energy. Even the printing press was once seen as a threat to the social order. And yet, in time, these technologies were not only accepted—they were woven into the very fabric of modern life.
Of course, not every advancement has served us well. Some, like nuclear weapons, should have been abandoned long ago. Others, like water purification, deserve far more investment than they receive. The difference isn’t the technology itself—it’s what we choose to do with it.
Artificial Intelligence is no different. It’s a tool. One with immense power and potential, yes—but still a tool. It can be used to help or to harm. To build up or to break down. What matters is not whether we fear it, but whether we guide it with wisdom, ethics, and a clear sense of purpose.
As Roosevelt said during another time of great uncertainty, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Fear has a way of paralysing good judgement, blinding us to opportunities, and pushing us into reaction instead of reflection. AI is not the end of the world. It’s just the next step. Whether it becomes a blessing or a curse depends entirely on us.