When I first learned about how Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace built and programmed the first computer, I felt a strange combination of sadness and awe. They were so ahead of their time in the early 19th century that they died with absolutely no idea how much their groundbreaking work would transform the world.
A few years later, I saw their work in a new light after learning about ‘longtermism’ from the Long Time Academy. Even though our lives are a blip on the time horizon, some organizations and philosophers are trying to be good ancestors by intentionally focusing their work on future generations. Their perspective echoes the Iroquois, who encourage their leaders to consider seven generations in the future when making decisions.
Without external validation and recognition, Babbage and Lovelace were simply working on what they believed in. It just so happens that their project was an early version of a concept that would go on to transform the world. While computers changed the world, many have worked just as hard on things that didn’t lead to such widespread impact. What do we make of them?
At the time, I was experiencing a lot of doubt about the work I was doing. The intersection of mindfulness and technology felt alien to most. Tech felt like the opposite of mindfulness, and everyone around me was still in the honeymoon period of their wondrous mobile devices, giving me strange looks when I’d suggest they might be destabilizing our minds.
At one point, it felt so unsustainable that I abandoned my focus area in search of a ‘real job’. But this notion of being a good ancestor reminded me that even if the impact of my work wasn’t immediate, it could still be significant. And even if it never created impact, if I truly believed in this work, I should work on it anyway. Even if it never massaged my ego with external validation or immediate gratification in this life, I didn’t need anyone’s approval to work on what I believed in.
When that ‘real job’ fell apart, long-term thinking was a huge part of what motivated me to start a mission-driven company. Up until that point, I never saw myself as an entrepreneur, though I did have some pretty strong role models for it. Longtermism gave me the audacity to declare that — whether or not it was going to be profitable — Still Ape needed to exist. We need tech talent devoted to wellbeing over addiction, awareness over distraction, and compassion over isolation.
To this day, considering the potential impact on future generations bolsters my sense of purpose and motivates me to keep pushing forward, regardless of the outcome. Even with the ups and downs of my own personal and professional journey, I still really do believe we need to heal our relationship with technology. Striving to be a good ancestor helps me think beyond trying to win the market to prioritize the long-term impact of my actions.
One of the things that’s interesting about us human beings is that our work can outlast us. This power to cheat death leads many to double down on their own egos and become obsessed with leaving a personal legacy. To me, it reminds me that even small contributions can make a difference in the grand scheme of things.
It also makes me grateful for our ancestors, who carried so many good things forward into our lives. There are so many techniques, technologies and teachings that could have been lost to time, but instead have been passed down to our hands and benefitted us greatly. It’s up to us to pay it forward.
This frame has continued to help me let go of outcomes and just do the work. As doubt falls away, I find more flow. And with persistence, I relish in the little wins. My colleagues and I have seen more and more success bringing mindfulness to technology and vice versa. Yet even when uncertainty strikes, I still dream of a future where our tech helps us become the best versions of ourselves.
There’s still a long way to go, but so what?
Zen vows are similar, you vow to liberate all beings, if you don't succed in getting everyone, so what?
Much to agree with. Two thoughts to share:
1. The high social discount rate is the enemy. Thinking similar to yours is nicely elaborated in an article by Tyler Cowen and Derek Parfit on "Against the Social Discount Rate". Once we expand the scope of whose benefit we work for, then future persons become our friends too, and a motivating force.
2. This thinking begs for a theistic component. Maybe it doesn't need to be explicit, but somewhere in the credo of serving the remote and yet unborn is belief in something that transcends us.