.
S

ociety has given us an abundance of reasons to feel that “we get the world that we get.” When a pandemic can skip across borders and create global disruption and destruction, it’s hard to believe that we have any control. Humans are liable to feel like the recipients of life–for good or ill–rather than the purveyors and manifestors of destiny.  The misery that follows the logic that “we get what we get” is perhaps best defined as a combination of hopelessness and disempowerment with a dash of insult. Times are changing, and life is what it is.

The truth, however, is the exact opposite. Every material substance that has ever been on planet earth has always–at least for the entirety of human history–been on planet earth. In other words, the resources to solve problems, create innovations, structure society, and define our future have always been available to us. It’s the way that we have used those resources that has changed–and continues to change. Humans are the “x-factor,” we are the arbiters of change.

Today, we find ourselves literally seeking the post-material world–a metaverse that is neither real nor non-real. It is “meta”--cleverly self-referential. It’s in between. It’s hybrid. It’s us, sort of. Nobody can accurately define the metaverse as it’s emerging in the tech discourse, but it may be easiest to think of it as the ubiquitous internet.

Pursuit of the post-material world instantly brings up questions of ownership. Who owns the metaverse? Who gets to shape it? We cobble together bits and bytes to create a meta-world, and already we are hearing echoes of buyers’ remorse: that big tech will own it. The same capital that built our World Wide Web is building our meta-world, and of course, they will structure it to win.

Going Meta With Purpose

But the ownership debate–important as it is–ignores the bigger question: What will the metaverse become? Will it be the dystopian future of isolation and perceived “human touch” through animated avatars, or will it be something more palatable to the human conscience?

The question is not rhetorical. As managers of society and makers of technology, we have a duty to honor humanity in our creations. Modern medicine has extended lifespans, reduced infant mortality, and advanced women’s independence even as it eradicated polio, treated illness, and provided contraception. Medicine, by virtue of our ingenuity, has redefined life itself for the better. 

Are we approaching the metaverse – which looks to be science’s greatest disruption to humanity -- with the same clarity of purpose as medicine in the mid-20th-century? Are we moving forward and risking acceptance of the world we get, or are we directed, actively pursuing a purposeful outcome?

At first look, there is little reason for optimism. Media coverage of the metaverse highlights the advent of cryptocurrency, NFTs, virtual reality games, and augmented reality headsets– all designed to deliver a brave new world. But that world lacks definition. It’s simply “new.”

Little in the conversation on the future of the metaverse presents a coherent purpose or goal for the metaverse. No tech tycoon is communicating a benefit. “Feeling of presence” is not a benefit. It’s a feature. Maybe even a bug. Digital assets with verified authenticity are a feature, not a benefit. 

To build a metaverse that has true human purpose, we have to define the benefits we expect and strive to bring them to fruition. We must look past revenue projections and the excitement of shiny new things to ask ourselves what this is all about. What is our purpose? Otherwise, we will land in a world none of us asked for and none of us want. 

Approaching the metaverse should be an exercise in the pursuit of a more human experience–one that helps us more effectively solve problems while nourishing our spirits, hearts, and minds. Looking to use technology to build new immersive headsets that sit between us or to delineate an unbendable set of rules set up by smart contracts on blockchains does not make us more human. It makes us more robotic. 

The only metaverse future worth living in is reality-first. It should place people before technology and drive in-person interaction rather than driving wedges between us. That would be the beginning of something worth living for, and thus, worth building.

The “human factor” is the X factor. Humanity is what would make any of this meaningful. Solo experiences are meaningless compared to shared experiences – we understand selfhood better in relation to others, not in a vacuum. Social means interdependence, not independence; and if we are talking about a survivable future, real social will need to be built in. Social material–the innate human ability for dialogue and connection–has existed throughout the history of humankind, and it needs to stay, or we will live to hate what we get.

The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of any other organization.

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www.diplomaticourier.com

The X Factor in XR: The Metaverse We Want, Not The Metaverse We Get

Image by Julien Tromeur via Unsplash.

February 1, 2022

While it is easy to feel as though the exponential growth of technology has taken on a life of its own and is out of our control, humanity can and must remain the "x-factor" in XR (Extended Reality) to ensure the future metaverse remains reality-first, writes Fabric Co-Founder Saul Garlick.

S

ociety has given us an abundance of reasons to feel that “we get the world that we get.” When a pandemic can skip across borders and create global disruption and destruction, it’s hard to believe that we have any control. Humans are liable to feel like the recipients of life–for good or ill–rather than the purveyors and manifestors of destiny.  The misery that follows the logic that “we get what we get” is perhaps best defined as a combination of hopelessness and disempowerment with a dash of insult. Times are changing, and life is what it is.

The truth, however, is the exact opposite. Every material substance that has ever been on planet earth has always–at least for the entirety of human history–been on planet earth. In other words, the resources to solve problems, create innovations, structure society, and define our future have always been available to us. It’s the way that we have used those resources that has changed–and continues to change. Humans are the “x-factor,” we are the arbiters of change.

Today, we find ourselves literally seeking the post-material world–a metaverse that is neither real nor non-real. It is “meta”--cleverly self-referential. It’s in between. It’s hybrid. It’s us, sort of. Nobody can accurately define the metaverse as it’s emerging in the tech discourse, but it may be easiest to think of it as the ubiquitous internet.

Pursuit of the post-material world instantly brings up questions of ownership. Who owns the metaverse? Who gets to shape it? We cobble together bits and bytes to create a meta-world, and already we are hearing echoes of buyers’ remorse: that big tech will own it. The same capital that built our World Wide Web is building our meta-world, and of course, they will structure it to win.

Going Meta With Purpose

But the ownership debate–important as it is–ignores the bigger question: What will the metaverse become? Will it be the dystopian future of isolation and perceived “human touch” through animated avatars, or will it be something more palatable to the human conscience?

The question is not rhetorical. As managers of society and makers of technology, we have a duty to honor humanity in our creations. Modern medicine has extended lifespans, reduced infant mortality, and advanced women’s independence even as it eradicated polio, treated illness, and provided contraception. Medicine, by virtue of our ingenuity, has redefined life itself for the better. 

Are we approaching the metaverse – which looks to be science’s greatest disruption to humanity -- with the same clarity of purpose as medicine in the mid-20th-century? Are we moving forward and risking acceptance of the world we get, or are we directed, actively pursuing a purposeful outcome?

At first look, there is little reason for optimism. Media coverage of the metaverse highlights the advent of cryptocurrency, NFTs, virtual reality games, and augmented reality headsets– all designed to deliver a brave new world. But that world lacks definition. It’s simply “new.”

Little in the conversation on the future of the metaverse presents a coherent purpose or goal for the metaverse. No tech tycoon is communicating a benefit. “Feeling of presence” is not a benefit. It’s a feature. Maybe even a bug. Digital assets with verified authenticity are a feature, not a benefit. 

To build a metaverse that has true human purpose, we have to define the benefits we expect and strive to bring them to fruition. We must look past revenue projections and the excitement of shiny new things to ask ourselves what this is all about. What is our purpose? Otherwise, we will land in a world none of us asked for and none of us want. 

Approaching the metaverse should be an exercise in the pursuit of a more human experience–one that helps us more effectively solve problems while nourishing our spirits, hearts, and minds. Looking to use technology to build new immersive headsets that sit between us or to delineate an unbendable set of rules set up by smart contracts on blockchains does not make us more human. It makes us more robotic. 

The only metaverse future worth living in is reality-first. It should place people before technology and drive in-person interaction rather than driving wedges between us. That would be the beginning of something worth living for, and thus, worth building.

The “human factor” is the X factor. Humanity is what would make any of this meaningful. Solo experiences are meaningless compared to shared experiences – we understand selfhood better in relation to others, not in a vacuum. Social means interdependence, not independence; and if we are talking about a survivable future, real social will need to be built in. Social material–the innate human ability for dialogue and connection–has existed throughout the history of humankind, and it needs to stay, or we will live to hate what we get.

The views presented in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the views of any other organization.