Is there anyone who doesn't want to know the future?
Lately, if you read economic news closely, you'll find articles discussing the impact of new technologies like AI and blockchain on future society, or essays arguing that Japan (and its companies), facing the imminent arrival of a super-aging society with a low birth rate, must innovate and urgently achieve high productivity.
And many commentators insist, "Simulate the future, understand the challenges and opportunities, and prepare now for the coming era of change."
Unless you're exceptionally naive, you probably care about what our "future" holds—whether that outlook is pessimistic or optimistic.
In today's world, where the pace of change is accelerating across all fields, it's only human nature to want to know as much as possible about the foreseeable future as soon as possible. For executives at companies facing intensifying competition, this is a major issue.
In a sense, we might even say we are currently "addicted to the future," so fixated are we on what lies ahead.
Indeed, even at our firm, which gathers innovation cases globally and researches new ideas, we receive numerous requests from clients asking us to predict what the "future" will hold, to help them envision the "future" together, and to assist in formulating strategies.
The future we can calculate is only a small part
But let's take a moment to step back and think.
Can the future really be so easily envisioned? And can innovation be so easily engineered? Can we really predict how people's needs will evolve in such a straightforward manner?
Many companies formulate medium-to-long-term management strategies and R&D plans, but can they really simulate future society and the economy that accurately? And is that a creative future?
Of course, making every possible effort to create the most accurate plans is crucial. Without it, modern management cannot function. Things like "the elderly population will increase" are indeed clear from simulations. However, I don't believe all futures lie "on an extension of the present." Rather, I suspect more than half will be unpredictable scenarios.
This is because humans, in a good way, are creatures who "come up with ideas" from serendipitous encounters. And humans cannot "plan" in advance for these "chance inspirations." It would be problematic if we could predict things like, "This company will make a groundbreaking discovery in biotechnology in two years." I believe that brilliant scientists who win Nobel Prizes are valued not just for their computational or processing abilities, but more for discovering things no one else has noticed yet. While I'm sure researchers put in blood, sweat, and tears, it's precisely because they stumbled upon something by chance, some kind of miraculous discovery, that they are recognized. Among the countless researchers working hard, only those aided by chance seem to leave their mark on history. And it's precisely because such accidental discoveries open up a world discontinuous from the "present" that they are so remarkable.
In other words, I believe half of the future is born from things conceived by chance. Couldn't we say that a future that can be calculated is a future that doesn't believe in half of human potential—that is, human creativity?
Think about it. Just a few years ago, terms like "blockchain" or "e-sports" were unknown outside of specialists and hardcore fans, right?
Yet, brilliant ideas born by chance can profoundly transform the world. Naturally, no matter how much existing data we gather and calculate, the "future" remains elusive—that's both its charm and its challenge.
Now, I've gone on a bit, but this book I'm introducing, The Six Distractions That Changed the World (Asahi Shimbun Publications), gathers precisely such examples. It tells the historical story of how things people in the past did unintentionally, by chance—and more than that, things they did without considering any economic significance—were later, by chance, found to have "meaning" by people in later generations, leading to social, economic, and cultural innovation.
When we think about the future, we tend to assume that something significant will emerge from serious research. Yet, delving into history reveals a surprising truth: many things now considered innovative technologies, meaningful, and widespread actually trace their origins back to what someone was doing as a "pastime" or "hobby" – essentially, seemingly "meaningless" activities.
Computing's origins trace back to a toy instrument
For example, how did computing come into being? According to this book, it can be traced back to the "self-playing musical instrument" created by the Islamic toy designers, the Banu Musa brothers, who lived in the 9th century.
Banu Musa's device possessed one crucial feature that no previous instrument designer had achieved. The sound of this organ was not produced by human fingers on a keyboard. Instead, it was what came to be called a pin cylinder—or, as the brothers referred to it, a barrel with small "teeth" irregularly arranged on its surface. As the barrel rotated, these teeth activated a series of levers that opened and closed the organ pipes. (...) The brothers also explained that melodies could be encoded onto the cylinder by recording the sounds played by a real musician onto a rotating drum covered in black wax. (P105-106)
According to the author, the origin of the computer was a programmable toy musical instrument. This accidental discovery later led to someone conceiving the application of musical patterns to "patterns," and the idea then spread to the realm of coloring, ultimately connecting to the invention of the loom during the Industrial Revolution. The process is introduced, showing how it was eventually applied to calculators and culminated in the computer. Thus, even computers—which seem purposefully born—originated as "instruments" for play and prayer.
This book also traces other unexpected connections, such as how modern shopping malls emerged from the fashion trends of the upper classes during ancient and medieval times, who sought garments dyed in the special purple known as Tyrian purple. It also introduces the thrilling process by which the 18th-century, dubious medium's show in Leipzig led to 3D movies.
Sometimes, a little diversion is important.
This book depicts how things that "weren't originally intended for that purpose" or "were just play, unrelated to economic activity" followed bizarre fates and led to innovations that changed the world.
Perhaps even the childish games that make adults frown today could, a hundred years from now, lead to innovations that astonish the world.
Well, by now, I think you get my point. When thinking about the future, it's important to sometimes indulge in "distractions" and harness the power of "chance." If planning for the future wears you out, taking a trip, learning from past cultures, or simply playing without worrying about money might be incredibly valuable. After all, that's a perfectly valid shortcut to innovation.
