The Future has a Place for You

In my last post I introduced the idea of a Naturally Intelligent future. One where technology serves the flourishing of human beings, and human beings serve the flourishing of life.

Today I would like to further explore that future, and in particular, the future of our work. 

The rise of AI has left many people asking:

Will I be replaced?

Or increasingly...

How long until I am?

But I am seeing a pattern emerge that is quite contrary to these popular narratives. 

The Rise of the Authentic Artisan. 

The more embodied we become, the more we thirst for authenticity. As we journey further into the desert of deep fakes, AI-generated media, synthetic food and increasingly synthetic relationships, we begin to discover oases of authenticity. 

Imagine I handed you two identical Fender guitars:

One came fresh off the shelf for $1500.

The other one was played by Jimi Hendrix and could sell for $1.5m.

Or imagine I showed you two paintings of Van Gogh's Starry Night, 

You might not be able to tell them apart.

Yet the authentic Van Gogh and the replica would be millions apart in value. 

Some things are more valuable, precisely because their story can’t be replicated.

As our world becomes flooded with the artificial, our longing for the authentic grows. 

Yes there will be the modern Starbucks, where you will not interface with a human, you will walk in, your coffee will be quickly and efficiently squirted into a disposable cup and you will be out of there in no time. And many people will use this, and for many it will be useful. Yet on the other side of the park stands a charming kiosk, run by a husband and wife that are incredibly passionate about coffee. They spent months travelling through Rwanda, building relationships with small-batch growers in the volcanic highlands. They have a refurbished 1990 La Marzocco espresso machine. It’s not the fastest, but it's almost musical in its sound, it’s incredibly aromatic and beautiful. Every cup is poured with love into a one-of-a-kind handmade mug made by a ceramicist, served on a beautiful wooden table crafted by local carpenter, Michael.   

Michael is excited because tonight, he is off to see his favourite musician, J Aliquo. Sure, people have a blast dancing the night away to AI-generated music. But for Michael, he loves the feeling of J’s music, the slight unexpected cracks in J’s voice when one of the notes comes up and catches a shard of his own pain. He’s a loyal fan and eagerly awaits J’s next album to see where his artistic journey takes him next. 

J Aliquo wakes up early on a Sunday morning to get his favourite bread. Sure the supermarket shelves are stacked full of identical loaves of formulaic white bread. But for J, there is a little baker and delicatessen owned by Kim. Kim went to extraordinary lengths to have installed in her bakery a type of brick oven that only one man in the whole country knows how to build, a dying art, she worked with him to build it brick by brick, and at 4am every morning she gets up, fires up the oven, and with love and care hand kneads the organic fennel and fig leaf sourdough dough. The smell of fresh bread fills half the neighbourhood, and people drive from an hour away, and line up, for a chance to get their hands on one of these loaves fresh from the oven. 

In a future where machines make things easily replicable, that which cannot be replicated becomes increasingly valuable.

A machine can produce a song. It cannot feel the grief, joy, love or longing that a song expresses.

A machine can write a story. It cannot live the life from which a story is born.

A machine can make a loaf of bread. It cannot knead into that bread twenty years of devotion to a craft.

The rise of the Authentic Artisan does not mean we must all become painters, musicians or potters. It means rediscovering the artisan within whatever we do.

Teachers, engineers, chefs, entrepreneurs, mechanics, gardeners, nurses, programmers, architects and carpenters will increasingly be valued not simply for what they produce, but for the humanity they bring to their craft.

It is not a future devoid of technology. It is one in which the artisan is empowered by it.

In a world of infinite replication, authenticity becomes scarce.

And what is scarce becomes valuable.

The future will not belong solely to those who can produce the most. It will increasingly belong to those who can bring the most care, presence, craftsmanship and authenticity to what they do.

One of the deepest fears many people hold about the future is the question: "Will there still be a place for me?"

The answer is yes.

Not despite your humanity, but because of it.  

With peace and love,

Alex