Future Perfect

Robyn Williams

Future Perfect

This is the first age that’s ever paid much attention to the future, which is a little ironic since we may not have one.

– Arthur C. Clarke

Introduction – Plus ç a change!

Thinking about the future is not a normal human activity. This may seem weird. Why would the most intelligent and imaginative species in the known universe insist on being stuck in the present, marooned in the past?

It is not so surprising when you look at the conundrum personally and historically. During the first 200,000 years of human existence not much changed. Yes, we did nip out from Africa across the globe, occupying six continents, but that took aeons. The average lifetime of 30-odd brutish years saw little variation beyond volcanic eruptions or freak weather. Otherwise, in a world uniformly hostile to human existence (not for one moment to be underestimated!) the struggle was to keep your hairy and heavy-browed self alive and ready

Future Perfect for tomorrow’s quest for di

About 35,000 to 40,000 years ago, in several parts of the world, something changed. We invented culture. In both Australia and Europe cave paintings show a new sophistication, probably linked to the development of complex language. Leaving aside how this may have happened at the same moment among people so far apart, it is interesting that the works reflect a life integrated with the animals they depict and with landscape. The only gesture towards a hypothetical future is seen in religious iconography as we began to wrestle with the consequences of death and alternatives to oblivion. Life was still brutish and short, just better decorated. It was essentially reactive; i

Which brings us to the begi

Even then, with villages and farms and the gradual invention of necessary hardware, not much varied from day to day between the toil of sowing, the grind of harvest and periodic relief at festival time when peasants gathered for a grim romp. Seasons came and went, the ruling classes took their unfair cut; life went on. Only the odd battle or skirmish with neighbours gave some respite from the relentless repetition of everything, and only the occasional preparation for wars or strategic marriages showed much long-term pla

Of course, there were prognosticators and seers, from the authors of the Bible to operators like Nostradamus, but they were less involved with ideas about a better future and more concerned with keeping the troops under control. The whole basis of belief in the hereafter and the awesome sway of the Almighty was that this world was but a temporary staging post; it was what happened next that really mattered. Utopias were beside the point. Present-tense dystopias were far more useful as frighteners than some benign promised land. This life is but a vale of tears, the message went: rewards will come in the next life. So fall in line, get on with it and accept your miserable lot. Trust me!

Even those prime i

Not until after the devastation caused by plague in the fourteenth century were people forced to imagine a different way of doing things. From Florence, where nearly 80 per cent of the population perished, to parts of northern Europe where the figure was a scarcely less chilling 20-30 per cent, people had to adapt to a new reality. Where labour had once been in unlimited supply, now labour-saving devices were needed. Science and technology emerged as vital to survival and, with them, the twin requirements to think ahead and maintain an anti-authoritarian scepticism. Imagine how powerful this experience must have been. Practical inventiveness was needed to stay alive and new ideas had to flow to deal with a world that had been turned upside down. Put them together and you have what eventually became the Enlightenment. This new freedom was the birth of modern science. Before then, pure science had not been theoretical musings, like those of a Stephen Hawking or a Paul Davies, which were then taken up and tested by the experimentalists. Pure science had been what relaxed classical gentlemen did lounging by the grotto without getting their hands dirty. Aristotelian science was more like philosophy, a matter of the high-minded gaining insight into the perfection of nature and the universe. Labs were for proles. The Enlightenment changed everything. Novel thinking was prized: the more daring the better. But so was experimentation. Hands-on was combined with minds freed. Galileo, the father of modern science, was a rebel to classical science; his cosmology affronted the Church, but that didn’t worry him.

Such is history: long stasis, giving way to rapidly accelerating change. Of the four hundred generations since the start of civilisation, only about seven or eight generations, begi

Which brings me to the personal. My own family has a poor history of longevity, especially on my father’s side. Men would typically expire of spectacular strokes in their forties; even my father, whose time on Earth was slightly more comfortable than that of his brothers, expired at age 57. I am now six years older than he was when I last saw him, a somewhat creepy experience.