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Chapter 9

THE SCIENTIFIC TRAJECTORY

We are creating a new society. Not a changed society. Not an extended, larger-than-life

version of our present society. But a new society.

This simple premise has not yet begun to tincture our consciousness. Yet unless we

understand this, we shall destroy ourselves in trying to cope with tomorrow.

A revolution shatters institutions and power relationships. This is precisely what is

happening today in all the high-technology nations. Students in Berlin and New York, in

Turin and Tokyo, capture their deans and chancellors, bring great clanking education

factories to a grinding halt, and even threaten to topple governments. Police stand aside in the

ghettos of New York, Washington and Chicago as ancient property laws are openly violated.

Sexual standards are overthrown. Great cities are paralyzed by strikes, power failures, riots.

International power alliances are shaken. Financial and political leaders secretly tremble—not

out of fear that communist (or capitalist) revolutionaries will oust them, but that the entire

system is somehow flying out of control.

These are indisputable signs of a sick social structure, a society that can no longer

perform even its most basic functions in the accustomed ways. It is a society caught in the

agony of revolutionary change. In the 1920's and 1930's, communists used to speak of the

"general crisis of capitalism." It is now clear that they were thinking small. What is occurring

now is not a crisis of capitalism, but of industrial society itself, regardless of its political

form. We are simultaneously experiencing a youth revolution, a sexual revolution, a racial

revolution, a colonial revolution, an economic revolution, and the most rapid and deep-going

technological revolution in history. We are living through the general crisis of industrialism.

In a word, we are in the midst of the super-industrial revolution.

If failure to grasp this fact impairs one's ability to understand the present, it also leads

otherwise intelligent men into total stupidity when they talk about the future. It encourages

them to think in simple-minded straight lines. Seeing evidence of bureaucracy today, they

naïvely assume there will be more bureaucracy tomorrow. Such linear projections

characterize most of what is said or written about the future. And it causes us to worry about

precisely the wrong things.

One needs imagination to confront a revolution. For revolution does not move in

straight lines alone. It jerks, twists and backtracks. It arrives in the form of quantum jumps

and dialectical reversals. Only by accepting the premise that we are racing toward a wholly

new stage of eco-technological development—the super-industrial stage—can we make sense

of our era. Only by accepting the revolutionary premise can we free our imaginations to

grapple with the future.

Revolution implies novelty. It sends a flood of newness into the lives of countless

individuals, confronting them with unfamiliar institutions and first-time situations. Reaching

deep into our personal lives, the enormous changes ahead will transform traditional family

structures and sexual attitudes. They will smash conventional relationships between old and

young. They will overthrow our values with respect to money and success. They will alter

work, play and education beyond recognition. And they will do all this in a context of

spectacular, elegant, yet frightening scientific advance.

If transience is the first key to understanding the new society, therefore, novelty is the

second. The future will unfold as an unending succession of bizarre incidents, sensational

discoveries, implausible conflicts, and wildly novel dilemmas. This means that many

members of the super-industrial society will never "feel at home" in it. Like the voyager who

takes up residence in an alien country, only to find, once adjusted, that he must move on to

another, and yet another, we shall come to feel like "strangers in a strange land."

The super-industrial revolution can erase hunger, disease, ignorance and brutality.

Moreover, despite the pessimistic prophecies of the straight-line thinkers, super-industrialism

will not restrict man, will not crush him into bleak and painful uniformity. In contrast, it will

radiate new opportunities for personal growth, adventure and delight. It will be vividly

colorful and amazingly open to individuality. The problem is not whether man can survive

regimentation and standardization. The problem, as we shall see, is whether he can survive

freedom.

Yet for all this, man has never truly inhabited a novelty-filled environment before.

Having to live at an accelerating pace is one thing when life situations are more or less

familiar. Having to do so when faced by unfamiliar, strange or unprecedented situations is

distinctly another. By unleashing the forces of novelty, we slam men up against the non￾routine, the unpredicted. And, by so doing, we escalate the problems of adaptation to a new

and dangerous level. For transience and novelty are an explosive mix.

If all this seems doubtful, let us contemplate some of the novelties that lie in store for

us. Combining rational intelligence with all the imagination we can command, let us project

ourselves forcefully into the future. In doing so, let us not fear occasional error—the

imagination is only free when fear of error is temporarily laid aside. Moreover, in thinking

about the future, it is better to err on the side of daring, than the side of caution.

One sees why the moment one begins listening to the men who are even now creating

that future. Listen, as they describe some of the developments waiting to burst from their

laboratories and factories.

THE NEW ATLANTIS

"Within fifty years," says Dr. F. N. Spiess, head of the Marine Physical Laboratory of the

Scripps Institution of Oceanography, "man will move onto and into the sea—occupying it

and exploiting it as an integral part of his use of this planet for recreation, minerals, food,

waste disposal, military and transportation operations, and, as populations grow, for actual

living space."

More than two-thirds of the planet's surface is covered with ocean—and of this

submerged terrain a bare five percent is well mapped. However, this underwater land is

known to be rich with oil, gas, coal, diamonds, sulphur, cobalt, uranium, tin, phosphates and

other minerals. It teems with fish and plant life.

These immense riches are about to be fought over and exploited on a staggering scale.

Today in the United States alone more than 600 companies, including such giants as Standard

Oil and Union Carbide, are readying themselves for a monumental competitive struggle

under the seas.

The race will intensify year by year—with far-reaching impacts on society. Who

"owns" the bottom of the ocean and the marine life that covers it? As ocean mining becomes

feasible and economically advantageous, we can expect the resource balance among nations

to shift. The Japanese already extract 10,000,000 tons of coal each year from underwater

mines; tin is already being ocean-mined by Malaysia, Indonesia and Thailand. Before long

nations may go to war over patches of ocean bottom. We may also find sharp changes in the

rate of industrialization of what are now resource-poor nations.

Technologically, novel industries will rise to process the output of the oceans. Others

will produce sophisticated and highly expensive tools for working the sea—deep-diving

research craft, rescue submarines, electronic fish-herding equipment and the like. The rate of

obsolescence in these fields will be swift. The competitive struggle will spur ever

accelerating innovation.

Culturally, we can expect new words to stream rapidly into the language. "Aqua￾culture"—the term for scientific cultivation of the ocean's food resources—will take its place

alongside "Agriculture." "Water," itself a term freighted with symbolic and emotional

associations, will take on wholly new connotations. Along with a new vocabulary will come

new symbols in poetry, painting, film and the other arts. Representations of oceanic life

forms will find their way into graphic and industrial design. Fashions will reflect dependence

on the ocean. New textiles, new plastics and other materials will be discovered. New drugs

will be found to cure illness or alter mental states.

Most important, increased reliance on the oceans for food will alter the nutrition of

millions—a change that, itself, carries significant unknowns in its wake. What happens to the

energy level of people, to their desire for achievement, not to speak of their biochemistry,

their average height and weight, their rate of maturation, their life span, their characteristic

diseases, even their psychological responses, when their society shifts from a reliance on

agri- to aquaculture?

The opening of the sea may also bring with it a new frontier spirit—a way of life that

offers adventure, danger, quick riches or fame to the initial explorers. Later, as man begins to

colonize the continental shelves, and perhaps even the deeper reaches, the pioneers may well

be followed by settlers who build artificial cities beneath the waves—work cities, science

cities, medical cities, and play cities, complete with hospitals, hotels and homes.

If all this sounds too far off, it is sobering to note that Dr. Walter L. Robb, a scientist at

General Electric, has already kept a hamster alive under water by enclosing it in a box that is,

in effect, an artificial gill—a synthetic membrane that extracts air from the surrounding water

while keeping the water out. Such membranes formed the top, bottom and two sides of a box

in which the hamster was submerged in water. Without the gill, the animal would have

suffocated. With it, it was able to breathe under water. Such membranes, G.E. claims, may

some day furnish air for the occupants of underwater experimental stations. They might

eventually be built into the walls of undersea apartment houses, hotels and other structures, or

even—who knows?—into the human body itself.

Indeed, the old science fiction speculations about men with surgically implanted gills

no longer seem quite so impossibly far-fetched as they once did. We may create (perhaps

even breed) specialists for ocean work, men and women who are not only mentally, but

physically equipped for work, play, love and sex under the sea. Even if we do not resort to

such dramatic measures in our haste to conquer the underwater frontier, it seems likely that

the opening of the oceans will generate not merely new professional specialties, but new life

styles, new ocean-oriented subcultures, and perhaps even new religious sects or mystical

cults to celebrate the seas.

One need not push speculation so far, however, to recognize that the novel

environments to which man will be exposed will, of necessity, bring with them altered

perceptions, new sensations, new sensitivities to color and form, new ways of thinking and

feeling. Moreover, the invasion of the sea, the first wave of which we shall witness long

before the arrival of A.D. 2000, is only one of a series of closely tied scientific-technological

trends that are now racing forward—all of them crammed with novel social and

psychological implications.

SUNLIGHT AND PERSONALITY