In 1970 Alvin Toffler wrote the best seller Future Shock. His work stressed the influence of, among other things, information overload. And he warned of new technologies and increasing military evolvements that could overpower our ability to halt our own destruction. Though he may have overstated the harm that future shock may inflict, much of what he predicted is eerily accurate.
You might think of future shock this way. Imagine we are aboard a runaway train on a steep downhill grade. As we pick up speed and look out the windows, we see the landscape as a blur. Too fast, unsustainable speed. The rails will not hold our weight and velocity.
Of course, predictions and scenarios of the future come in many flavors, some of which will be toothsome while others will be bitter. But viewing the rapid changes over the last few decades, it becomes difficult to debunk the notion that challenges arise as we try to adjust to the don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it world. As an anecdotal example, revisit that episode of “I Love Lucy” when Ethel and Lucy attempt to wrap each piece of candy funneling down a conveyor belt at a chocolate factory. You get the picture. Lots of laughs as entertainment, not so much when applied to the anxiety and speedy pace of change everyone faces during the twenty-first century.
Exponential acceleration in technology and information, worldwide population, and ecological degradation seem obvious. As we thrive, we try to juggle just one more ball, just one more flaming sword. Consider the brief interval (a little over one hundred years) since the first flight. Now the skies are peppered with commercial and military flights day and night. Consider too the domination of mobile phones and tablet devices that allows seamless communication among those owning those technologies (the first mobile phone communication happened on April 3rd, 1973, not fifty years ago). Now it is hard to make eye contact with anyone on the street because all eyes are focused on little screens. Consider also the rapid change in social and cultural acceptance of the LGBTQ communities along with the gradual but certain rise in gender and racial equality. Would our great-grandparents have an easy time countenancing and understanding these long-awaited changes? Hardly. What about changes that are less welcome? For instance, the self-imposed and incontestable degradation of our environment (not sure how long it has been since the ruining began, but I am reasonably certain the last century has taken us near the pale, probably beyond it). Change happens, of course, and will until the whole shebang comes to an end (“not with a bang but with a whimper”), but now change comes at us with mind-blowing rapidity. We play Whack-a-Mole, but as we raise our mallets the game moves so quickly that we are left pounding holes. Too fast! Too much! We find ourselves right there alongside of Lucy and Ethel trying to keep up.
Anxiety results. Gaa!
Admittedly, change is not theunwelcome element in this story: it is the acceleration of change, its velocity, its overburden on our ability to absorb it, and our unlikely aptitude to adjust to radical innovation. For those of us who remember rotary dial desk phones, we may remember party lines. That is, several households would use the same connection for making calls. If you picked up the receiver to make a call, you might hear the conversation of someone else, perhaps a neighbor, or someone who lived miles away (such a temptation to listen in as my mother sometimes did). You would know to answer the phone by the number of short rings. All right, next came private lines, followed by an any number of gizmos that allow us to call from a fishing boat in the North Sea to a friend sitting in a coffee shop in the Bronx without so much as being amazed by it all. Heck, riders in the International Space Station can call home whenever they desire. How many phone numbers are now assigned to me? Three? Four? Coming soon, I’m sure, will be communication devices that will allow us to interact telepathically. “I was just thinking about you.” So, during my lifetime, we have gone from switchboard operators to phone booths to mobile phones that send signals to satellites and get them back again. What is more amazing is that many of us are trying to keep pace with all the change and doing a reasonably good job of it.
Commercial radio messages increasingly feature an annoyance that employs a fast-talker, a voice that zips along as fast an auctioneer trying to run up the bid. Usually, I suppose, the pause between words is edited out in these radio spots. The fast-talker does this for two reasons: to provide legal disclaimers (the equivalent of small print) and to save money when buying blocks of air time. The listeners hear the opposite of white noise, whatever that is. We can scarcely understand a word. And are not meant to. That’s the way of the world just now. Try to keep up, Bucko.
Trouble is, our ability to adapt to change does not always keep pace with the tempo of change itself. It is all too much!
Too fast. No brakes.
Think of Lucy and Ethel on their first day on the job at the chocolate factory. Get ready, girls. The conveyor belt just jumped to a faster gear.
This broken world will soon support ten billion people.
The seas will rise four to nine feet in some places.
We are plaining a military space force.
I just got 630 million hits on a Google inquiry.
Consider another illustration to show future shock in the present tense. You are playing baseball, and it is your turn to bat. The guy on the pitcher’s mound is winding up and about to throw you a fastball, some high heat, some nasty unhittable stuff. You are not good at playing baseball, but the manager asks you to make solid contact.
Yeah, right!