For a species that communicates instantaneously, that has access to the sum of human knowledge accessible at a few strokes of the keyboard, we continue to be absolutely useless at foretelling the future.
Why can't we just know when the next global war or pandemic will break out? Or who'll be the next culturally significant rock'n'roller, head of state or iconic actor to pop their clogs*? What will be the value of the dollar at the end of this year? Will we get snow this winter?
We don't like change, but we like it when things improve. Transitioning from a sub-optimal situation to a better state of things is never easy, but with hindsight, we see that the change had indeed been worth it. And yet the introduction of something good and new often carries with it other changes that are not so good, or ones that no one even considered as that change happened. Think of the end of communism in Poland and its neighbours.
Because we're so utterly hopeless at predicting outcomes, because the systems and systems within systems in which we live are so incredibly complex, unintended consequences of decisions made to improve things always go awry. Mathematically, the exponential rise of complexity leads to chaos. Human life was so much less complex at the time of the Oracle of Delphi.
As a species, we are actually good at history. We remember, we tell each other stories about our shared past and our heritage. We can grasp narratives, we can shape narratives. With the benefit of hindsight, we know why this war or that war was fought, why this particular economic policy turned out to be a failure, or why some product ended up being a far greater success on the market than anyone had dared predict. We can see past cause and present effect. But we can't see present cause and future effect.
Things seem to get worse quicker than they get better, or so it seems to us. Poland's improving quality of life is something that one sees clearly over the space of decades; it is harder to observe and quantify from one month to the next.** New infrastructure takes a long time to roll out; Warsaw West railway station being a good example (the underground passage between platforms was meant to have opened on 1 September, is now meant to open in 'September'. What's a few more days after nearly six years on the job? Still, once complete, it will be massively, wildly, better than the old station.
I started writing this blog yesterday, unaware that this morning, I'd wake to the news that multiple Russian drones have flown across Polish territory, an event that no one predicted last night. Once the news cycle gets cranked up, the pundits start to spout. I've come to learn that the best predictor of whether Poland's really in a bad place or whether this will all blow over is to look at the financial markets. The złoty barely budged against the euro, staying at the lower end of the 4.25-4.30 złoty band, where it's been since April. [For worriers: Putin's forces cannot seize Pokhrovsk, so going full-on against NATO is doomed to fail from the outset.]
Pundits are getting worse in predicting the future. Online algorithms mean that wild prediction ('Germany's Economic Collapse Is Inevitable', 'Xi Jinping Will Be Out Of Power By Next Month', 'The AI Bubble Is About To Burst', 'Congress To Disclose Alien Presence On Earth At This Week's Hearing' etc) get more views than more rational forecasts. The pundits offering such clickbait predictions may ruin their reputations in the long term, but in the meanwhile, they get the clicks, sell their books, monetize their platforms and become household names.
If you can't nail down the future empirically, using the tools of logic – deduction and induction – coupled with our recent ability to crunch vast amounts of data, then metaphysics – intuition – is the only way forward. And ward off truly bad things from happening by considering them, and then expressing gratitude when they don't happen. And not getting complacent.
* Robert Redford as it happens, six days later.
** Something I wrote in January 2019:
"Walking the same West London streets that I walked over 50 years ago, I've seen old familiar things disappear and new things taking their place. The cars. The Austin A40s and Vauxhall Crestas were replaced by Hillman Avengers and Ford Granadas, then those by Golf GTIs and Toyota Carinas, and now Nissan Jukes and Audi Q5 take their place. Road signs, street lights. High-street shops change. Dolcis, Tru-Form and Woolworth's have gone. The people that inhabit these streets change. Their clothes, even their smell. We've become more hygienic. Newcomers – at first from the former colonies, then from the Continent. Things change; if we're not aware of these imperceptible small changes as they happen, their loss can breed a longing for the past. This subconscious longing, when linked to resentment stemming from the lack of success in one's life, can make one susceptible to false myths peddled by populism. How we deal with the unfamiliar is problematic. Some of us are open to the new, we're curious, we don't feel threatened by change. Some of us are closed to it. And with that come dangers."
This time seven years ago:
Comfort comes in layers
This time eight years ago:
Preference and familiarity
This time nine years ago:
A long day in wonderful Wrocław
This time 11 years ago:
Putin will not heal Russia's tortured soul
This time 12 years ago:
Opole, little-known town
This time 13 years ago:
Raise a glass to Powiśle
This time 15 years ago:
Mud, rain and local elections
This time 17 years ago:
There must be a better way (commuting woes)
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