Whether at work or at home, our lives are in the middle of an AI-driven transformation. Just as the proverbial frogs in the heating pot, we struggle to find fitting analogies that comfort. Is this like the dot-com boom, and subsequent bust, of the late 1990s? Is it like the introduction of the personal computer, the first atom bomb, the invention of the the steam engine, or the cotton gin? All of these coincided with time periods that meet Merriam-Webster’s definition of “an unstable or critical time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending.  Especially: one with the distinct possibility of a highly undesirable outcome.” In all these historical analogies, whether the outcome was undesirable strongly depended on who you were. And it will again during this transformation. 

Thinking about this, I pulled two seemingly unrelated books from my shelves. They cover very different topics and are responding to very different crises, but they were both written in the early 1980s. The first was written by Hoimar von Ditfurth, a physician turned science journalist. His work as a television presenter of popular science programs fueled my curiosity about science as a young teenager. He was the closest to Carl Sagan we had in Germany. In 1985 he published a book that took its title from a quote long attributed to Martin Luther: “If I knew the world would end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.” There is no evidence that Martin Luther ever wrote this and the alleged quote most likely emerged as a call for hope against all hope in the 1930s or 40s in Germany. It became widely used there during the later demonstrations against the use of nuclear power in the 1970s.

In his introduction, von Ditfurth lays out the reasoning why he wrote the book although it might  be dismissed as only stoking the readers’ fears. Since the human brain is wired for fear for evolutionary reasons, he argues, we should be afraid of the most deadly threats and not be distracted by minor concerns. Back then and there, the line fit neatly into the zeitgeist of the era. While I was an optimistic, look-at-the-bright-side kind of kid, I also agreed with most of my contemporaries that we were likely the last generation and that the end wouldn’t be far off. Caught between Pershing II and SS-20 nuclear, medium-range ballistic missiles, it was hard to imagine a future. We grew older and, luckily, we were wrong, but the sense of precariousness of life never quite left me. 

The second book that I pulled off the shelf is a classic of organizational management. Edwards Deming published “Out of the Crisis” in 1982, summarizing the principals that he brought to Japan’s reconstruction in the 1950s. As a number of Japanese manufacturers applied these techniques widely they experienced unheard-of levels of quality and productivity. In his book, Deming offered these lessons as the solution for the American manufacturing industry that fought to keep up with the quality of Japanese imports. 

What struck me when rereading his book was not the focus on statistical methods that he brought to quality control, but the deeply human focus of his work. His 14 points include: “Drive out fear. Remove barriers that rob people of pride of workmanship. Eliminate the annual rating or merit system. Institute a vigorous program of education and self-improvement for everyone.” Consider how much faith in the human potential and how much respect for the individual these points express. 

Contrast this with the statement by Sam Altman, CEO of OpenAI, when responding to the concerns about how much power is used by artificial intelligence models. The Guardian quotes him as saying: “People talk about how much energy it takes to train an AI model – but it also takes a lot of energy to train a human. It takes about 20 years of life – and all the food you consume during that time – before you become smart.” Does he compare the value of a human to the amount of energy it takes to train them to compete with the machine? I hope not, but I believe that this is the thinking that is leading us into, not out of the crisis. Both Deming’s and von Ditfurth’s thinking was shaped by the devastation brought on the world by World War II. Devastation that was brought on by a dehumanization that lay the foundation for the war and was a result of it. Both authors reacted to their history by centering human individuals as the path out of the crisis and into hope. 

I have no illusions that we will go back to “the way it was,” put the genie back into the bottle, or cordon off some parts of our lives that will not be changed. Technology has a way of working its way into our life and imagination. I also do not want to go back to the so often quoted “good old days.” I am too aware that those good days were “better” only for a few. Though I hope that we will make it through this crisis too. Not to rest in an imagined perfect place, but so we are able to continue to strive to make our world more just and more fair for more of us. That is the apple tree that I would like to plant today. It is small and needs protection, but I hope it will bear fruit in its own time.