Step into my whimsical universe, crafted from the over 5400 words that I’ve penned throughout the fabric of space and time. You find yourself here, in your unique here and now. Time is of the essence, so let’s not waste a moment on polite formalities and plunge headfirst into the heart of the matter. We’re racing against the clock, my friend, for we are about to confront a colossal challenge that demands our immediate attention.
The problem at hand is crystal clear: if we don’t put a stop to the intricate web of human-induced effects on the global climate, we’re heading straight towards the collapse of our very own habitat and the extinction of humanity. Sure, our resilient blue planet, Mother Earth, will likely survive the ordeal, but mankind won’t be so lucky. We might see a few survivors emerge from the ashes of the apocalypse, but the civilization we know and cherish will be wiped off the face of the Earth. It’s not a distant future; it’s looming right in front of us, ready to wreak havoc on the lives of our children and grandchildren. We simply can’t stand idly by. We must confront the harsh reality: sustainability, decarbonization, and zero impact weren’t conceived to boost market share or be exploited as a fancy selling point. No, they’re our last-ditch efforts to save the upcoming generations from an utter catastrophe. This is nothing short of a mission to rescue the human race. The burning question remains: have we arrived too late to the party?
The answer to this pressing dilemma is straightforward: “Dear Readers, if I believed that it was too late, I wouldn’t waste your precious time discussing an inevitable doomsday. Instead, I would urge you to cease reading and join me in a wild celebration, reminiscing about the carefree days of 1999. We’d revel as our metaphorical Titanic sinks, the icy waters enveloping us, lifeboats vanished, and no help in sight. But no, that’s not the answer. I refuse to believe it’s too late. I hold onto hope that we can still alter the course of our future. However, it necessitates bidding farewell to our past partying ways, when we heedlessly harmed the planet, feigning ignorance. It’s time for a dramatic redesign in how we approach food, water, transportation, and, most importantly, energy production and consumption.”
I consider myself incredibly fortunate. I am regularly entrusted with the role of moderating the legendary and always awe-inspiring nexxworks experience tours to cities like San Francisco, Berlin, Tel Aviv, where I have the privilege of meeting the most captivating individuals on this planet. Just a few weeks ago, I had a profound conversation with Tammy Ma in Silicon Valley. She is among the brilliant minds involved in what is arguably the most groundbreaking research in human history: the pursuit of Nuclear Fusion, or as she prefers to call it, “Star energy.” Nuclear Fusion is the Holy Grail of the energy transition, as it has the potential to generate eternal energy, a crucial key to safeguarding humanity in the long run.
Until recently, nuclear fusion remained a mere theory, and we were uncertain whether we could ever replicate the extraordinary process occurring in our sun. However, Tammy and her team achieved a major breakthrough by demonstrating the feasibility of nuclear fusion and producing Star Energy in an experimental setting. Her brief speech and the video showcasing their experiment sent shivers down my spine and left everyone in the room in awe.
Tammy Ma emphasized her hope that this proof of concept would steer substantial financial resources toward the right direction and rally behind this single cause: solar energy. However, the path to scalable nuclear fusion remains arduous and demanding, requiring a significant investment. Tammy was candid in stating that even with ample funding, it would take at least another 50 years to achieve scalable nuclear fusion. Curious about our course of action during this interim period, I asked her for guidance. We cannot afford to wait for half a century.
Tammy Ma’s response was unequivocal: “The answer is quite simple. First and foremost, we must accelerate the energy transition and rapidly decarbonize the world, as Star energy may arrive too late otherwise. Secondly, this transition should serve as the initial steps towards creating a world prepared for nuclear fusion. We need to fast-forward full electrification, with renewable energy from wind and solar power bridging the gap between fossil fuels and solar energy.”
In her concluding remarks, Tammy Ma shared a powerful insight: Redesigning energy systems and achieving decarbonization cannot be accomplished by a single industry or country alone. It necessitates global solutions and the collective engagement of individuals. We must all collaborate, functioning as an interconnected ecosystem.
On the surface, this appears to be tremendously positive news. We have never been more interconnected, leading us to believe that collaboration has never been easier to coordinate. The next significant breakthrough will arise from countless interconnected individuals working in unison—or so the theory goes. Unfortunately, this theoretical good news is overshadowed by the harsh reality. The very means through which we connect—the World Wide Web—has been hijacked by the platforms we use for communication within this exhilarating new realm of mass two-way communication. These platforms manipulate our connections using algorithms. Regrettably, these algorithms are not designed to foster collaboration, drive monumental achievements, or solve the immense challenges that lie ahead. Instead, they are programmed to gather our data and sell our preferences to companies, utilizing the same platforms to market products tailored to our desires.
“Senator, we run ads.” These four words encapsulate the essence of this new era. Contrary to expectations, platform algorithms do not maximize the potential of our hyper-connected world. In fact, they often achieve the opposite. Instead of the World Wide Web serving as a canvas for a collective global brain, it has become a catalyst for hyper-individualism, fragmentation, and profound polarization. We find ourselves closer to the brink of global conflicts than to finding solutions for our climate crisis. The paradox of hyper-connectivity lies in the fact that it has transformed each of us into the center of our own universe. Rather than creating a single universe where 8 billion minds are interconnected, we have spawned 8 billion small and self-centered universes. “Houston, we have a problem.”
By the way, the popular quote “Houston, we have a problem” is not the exact phrase spoken during the Apollo 13 mission. In reality, the words initially spoken by astronaut Swigert -not Lovell as depicted in the movie- were “Okay, Houston, we’ve had a problem here.”
Just minutes before reporting this “problem,” the astronauts had been winding down for the day, with the mission progressing smoothly and uneventfully. So what could this “problem” be? Did Swigert run out of toilet paper? Forget to make a phone call? Miss his favorite pillow and struggle to sleep? Houston wanted to know. Upon being asked to repeat the message, Lovell responded with the slightly more alarming, “Uh, Houston, we’ve had a problem.” That casual “Uh” sounds like someone still half-asleep, not conveying the gravity of the situation. It’s the kind of conversation I have before my first espresso in the morning: “Uh.”
In the unlikely event of an oxygen tank explosion during a journey to the moon, it’s quite an understatement to refer to it as “a problem” when informing Houston. An explosion in a spacecraft is never good news, but an explosion in an oxygen tank is a fast-track to disaster. The human body requires oxygen, and the only oxygen in space was contained in the very tank that just exploded. Need I say more? “Houston, we are going to die” would have been a more accurate message. Instead, they labeled it as “a problem,” which says a lot. A problem can be solved, particularly by Houston in this case.
Indeed, even when faced with overwhelming odds and the near certainty of a dire outcome, there is a glimmer of hope within us that Houston, the metaphorical “Deus ex Machina,” will somehow find a solution, even if it seems impossible. This hope for a miracle is deeply ingrained in our human nature. It reflects the narrative structure we often encounter in Hollywood movies, where in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenges, a sudden, unexpected turn of events resolves everything, leading to a “happily ever after” ending.
This tendency to rely on hope and expect someone or something to save us can also be observed in our approach to global challenges like climate collapse. We acknowledge the seriousness of the problem, yet there is a subconscious belief that Houston, in this case representing some external force or solution, will come to the rescue just in time. We continue with our current practices, assuming that the climate issue will be resolved, and we will be able to carry on with our lives unscathed.
It is important to note that the Apollo 13 astronauts did make it home safely, thanks to the efforts of the Houston team. However, when we apply this mindset to broader societal and environmental issues, it becomes a false hope that may hinder meaningful action. Relying solely on the expectation of an external savior can lead to complacency and a lack of personal responsibility in addressing the challenges we face as a species. Instead, it is crucial for individuals, communities, and nations to actively engage, take responsibility, and work collectively towards sustainable solutions rather than waiting for a miraculous rescue.
Let’s take a journey back to 1969 when I was only six years old. It was a significant time for mankind as we had just landed on the moon that summer. Following this momentous event, I went to the movies with a group of about 50 kids my age to watch Bambi, a Disney film that left a lasting impact on me.
For the few individuals who haven’t seen this distressing movie, allow me to describe a few scenes that have stayed with me throughout the years. Even after 54 years, these scenes remain vivid in my memory. If there were an international court for child abuse, Disney would stand trial, and I would testify against them.
The movie begins with adorable little Bambi, his mother, and his small friends in a perfect paradise. It resembles the first few hours of the Apollo 13 flight: cute but utterly uneventful. It’s not the kind of scenario that makes for an exciting movie. Something was bound to happen. And indeed, paradise is disrupted when Bambi experiences his first harsh and unforgiving winter. The endless snowstorms leave little food to eat, and my six-year-old self, along with poor little Bambi (we had become friends by now), long for the warmth and greenery of the perfect paradise to return. “Houston, we have a problem” wasn’t coined yet, but that’s essentially what Bambi and I said to each other: “Mama?” We didn’t call Houston; we called for our mothers, but it’s all the same. Houston is Mommy, and Mommy is Houston, and Houston will take care of everything. Mother promises that spring will come soon, and as children, we believe our mothers, don’t we? Mommy Houston has all the solutions.
Sure enough, one day, Bambi and his mother discover the first signs of spring grass peeking through the snow. Hooray! So far, so good. As a child, you think the worst is behind you, and you start to breathe again. Mother Houston was right. You can trust her. Now, they are going to live happily ever after. Bambi and his mom had just started to enjoy some of that fresh green grass in the snow, and we were eagerly waiting for the happy ending when suddenly, disturbing music filled the scene. I held my breath, uncertain of the reason. Little Bambi, unaware of the invisible danger, seemed perplexed by his mother’s concern. She urgently told her son to run for safety! “Run, Bambi, run!” When in danger, we run. That is the crocodile in all of us.
Our crocodile brain, rooted in primitive instincts, continues to play a significant role in our decision-making process despite the evolution of our human brain. This ancient brain structure, honed over millions of years, is responsible for our survival in hostile environments. Its efficiency lies in its ability to conserve energy and react swiftly, unlike our energy-consuming human brain.
Here’s the unsettling truth: our crocodile brain largely governs our decisions, while our human brain merely provides rational explanations for our emotional reactions. The crocodile brain dismisses most of the stimuli around us as irrelevant, as it prioritizes immediate gratification of its core emotions: fear and lust/greed. If something captures its attention and promises to fulfill its desires, it seizes it without concern for the consequences or the well-being of others. Conversely, when it senses potential danger, the crocodile brain takes over, prompting us to either fight or flee.
The fascinating aspect is that our human brain attempts to rationalize our primitive behavior after it has already been initiated by the crocodile brain, often lagging behind. It constructs logical reasons to justify our actions, but this process occurs belatedly, unable to prevent or influence the initial impulsive response.
This observation highlights the ongoing influence of our primal instincts, underscoring the challenge of aligning our logical thinking with our instinctual behavior. While our human brain offers the potential for higher-level reasoning and conscious decision-making, it must contend with the dominance of the crocodile brain, which operates on a more immediate and instinctual level. Understanding this interplay can help us navigate our instincts and impulses, allowing our human brain to exert greater control and make more informed choices.
“Run! Run, Bambi, run!” I was six years old, terrified, and I started running along with Bambi and I believe every other child in that dark cinema was running too. This is where the scene took a disturbing turn. While we were fleeing from an unseen danger that seemed to threaten our lives, Bambi turned to look back at his mother, and we heard her last words, though we didn’t realize it at the time: “Faster, faster, Bambi! Don’t look back! Keep running, KEEP RUNNING!”
Bang. We had already evaded one gunshot, and just after Bambi’s mother disappeared from the screen, we heard it: a loud bang, a gunshot signifying a hit. As a child, I didn’t fully comprehend the implications of that bang, and I continued running alongside Bambi, unaware that something had happened. Finally, Bambi reached the safety of the thicket, turned around, and realized… his mother wasn’t there. Not yet, we hoped. We believed she would be there soon. After all, mothers always show up, don’t they? The transition from Bambi’s joyous exclamation of “We made it, Mother!” to the heartbreaking moment of questioning, “Mother?!” shattered the innocence of the children watching that horrifying scene. If there were an International Court for Child Abuse, Disney would undoubtedly face trial.
My soul was scarred forever. At six years old, I didn’t fully grasp what had happened to Bambi’s mother. Bambi himself was in denial, and we both clung to the hope that a tipping point would miraculously restore his mother and provide a happy ending. We embarked on a desperate search through the dark forest, amidst a snowstorm, hoping against hope. And then, Bambi encountered his father, the Great Prince of the Forest, who delivered the heartbreaking truth: “Your mother can’t be with you anymore.” No more mommy, Bambi. You’re on your own.
This experience left an indelible mark on my young soul. I didn’t fully comprehend the depths of the loss that Bambi faced, but I shared in his denial and hoped for a resolution that would restore the happiness we had witnessed earlier. The scene taught me that life doesn’t always provide the expected happy endings, and it introduced the concept of facing the world alone, without the comforting presence of a mother. The pain and poignancy of that moment resonated deeply, shaping my understanding of vulnerability, resilience, and the harsh realities of life at a tender age.
In that moment, the movie shattered the illusion of safety and protection that Houston or Mommy represented. It delivered a powerful message: there may come a time when we are left to face challenges and adversity on our own. The loss of Bambi’s mother taught me that life can be unpredictable and cruel, and there won’t always be someone there to save us or shield us from the harsh realities of the world.
This lesson stayed with me throughout my life, reminding me that resilience and self-reliance are essential qualities. It taught me to brace myself for unexpected obstacles and to understand that I must take responsibility for my own well-being and navigate the challenges that come my way.
While the movie Bambi may have left a lasting impact and stirred emotions, it also served as a valuable lesson in resilience, independence, and the realities of life. It highlighted the importance of being prepared to face adversity and find the strength within ourselves to overcome it, even when there is no Houston or Mommy to come to our rescue.
The analogy is thought-provoking. In a sense, humanity bears responsibility for the challenges it faces and the potential consequences it may encounter. The invisible monster that killed Mother and the absence of Houston can be attributed to our collective actions and their impact on the world.
It is true that our hope for a solution often rests on external entities or systems, like Houston, without fully acknowledging our own role in creating the problems we face. The loss of collaboration and the dominance of the crocodile brain, driven by primal instincts and self-interest, have contributed to a sense of disconnection despite increased connectivity.
The paradox lies in the fact that while technological advancements have allowed us to be more interconnected than ever before, we have also become disconnected from the consequences of our actions and the need for collective responsibility. We have, in a sense, lost control over the very forces we have unleashed.
Recognizing this paradox and taking responsibility for the challenges we have created is essential. It requires a collective shift in mindset and behavior, fostering collaboration, empathy, and long-term thinking to address the complex issues facing humanity. Only by acknowledging our role and working together can we hope to regain control and find sustainable solutions to the problems we have caused. It is like that one scene in Fantasia.
Fantasia is widely regarded as one of the greatest animated movies of all time. Released by Disney in 1940, the film aimed to popularize classical music. In one memorable scene, inspired by Goethe’s novel and accompanied by Paul Dukas’ music, the apprentice sorcerer stumbles upon the magic hat of his master, Yen Sid (Disney spelled backward). Excited by the newfound power, he begins using it to effortlessly control objects like broomsticks and buckets of water. However, he eventually falls asleep and enters a dream where he envisions himself as the master in control of the entire universe. When he awakens, he finds himself in a tumultuous storm of uncontrollable broomsticks and buckets, desperately trying to undo the chaos he has unleashed but to no avail.
In many ways, we are like the apprentice sorcerer, possessing the most powerful tool ever developed in nature: our human brains. We have utilized this tool to cheat nature and make our lives easier. We have invented fire, agriculture, the wheel, flight, computers, and the internet, drastically altering the environment through our actions. The question arises: was it us or our crocodile brain that initiated this transformation?
We have plundered the planet and even stolen from future generations, driven by the influence of our insidious crocodile brain. It has manipulated and exploited our human brains, the metaphorical sorcerer’s hat, to fulfill its primitive desires of greed and instant gratification.
However, our crocodile brain struggles to comprehend complex issues with distant or indirect impacts. The undeniable reality is that our actions as humans have led to climate change, global warming, and ultimately, the collapse of the climate—a complex, nonlinear chain of events. Halting and reversing this disaster demands abstract, intricate, and nonlinear solutions, which necessitate changes in our lifestyles. To the crocodile brain, this notion of change signals danger, prompting it to either fight or flee. Unfortunately, relying solely on our crocodile brain will not solve the climate crisis. Hence, we turn to an entity like “Houston,” symbolizing hope for a miraculous resolution to the mess we have created, as depicted in the final scene of Fantasia, where the master intervenes and rectifies the apprentice’s mistakes.
In truth, we are the ones destroying our environment through our own behaviors. Our crocodile brain, resistant to understanding the gravity of the situation and reversing the catastrophic consequences, compels us to use our human brain to deny reality, resist adaptation, and place the burden of solving the problem on science and future generations (represented by Houston). This misplaced reliance on external solutions prevents us from taking responsibility and uniting to address the crisis at hand.
To confront these environmental challenges, we must acknowledge our role in causing the problem and embrace collective responsibility. It requires engaging our human brains to comprehend and confront the complex issues we face. This shift in mindset necessitates recognizing that unity and collaboration are crucial for creating a sustainable future.
By confronting the reality of our impact, accepting the need for change, and actively working together, we can begin to reverse the damage and preserve the planet for generations to come. Through collective action and a deeper understanding of the consequences of our actions, we can strive towards resolving the environmental crisis we have played a significant part in causing
AI and deep learning
If you are not an AI specialist like myself and don’t have to strain your human brain to the point of exhaustion, unlike what happened to me when I tried to truly comprehend AI (and I must acknowledge my privilege of having the time and energy to focus on AI rather than dealing with numerous unrelated daily issues), you can skip this section and proceed to the next. However, if you are similar to me and part of the 99.9% of the population, you may find value in reading this.
Let’s consider the example of climate collapse and imagine you are a programmer tasked with writing a program that can save our natural environment. The interplay of numerous parameters and the volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous nature of dynamic forces make it absolutely impossible for a human being to create such a program. One would need to fully understand the cascade of effects and how to reverse them before even attempting to write the program.
If it seems impossible for us, how can we expect AI to do it? The approach is to gather all relevant data that impact the habitat and input it into “the machine.” On the other end of that machine, one precisely defines the desired outcome, such as “reduce human-caused global warming to a maximum of 1°C.” A deep learning program is not explicitly programmed to solve the problem; it is designed to learn and essentially self-program. Deep learning algorithms process the data, generating billions of potential “programs” that progressively approach the desired outcome by utilizing all available data, even as the data change over time and are influenced by the actions indicated by the program.
Now that AI has undeniably permeated our lives and its immense scale has become apparent in such a short span of time, we are taken aback. The potential impact it could have on our lives frightens us to the extent that we want to eradicate the beast, oblivious to how this human invention could actually save us.
We should have anticipated this development, and to some extent, we did, but we chose to ignore it. In the infamous movie “Monty Python’s Holy Grail,” there is a scene where Sir Lancelot is seen running toward a castle. Two guards are stationed at the gate, and every time they glance up to survey their surroundings, they perceive Sir Lancelot in the far distance, steadily approaching. However, he doesn’t seem to draw any closer, so they pay him no mind. These guards represent the crocodile within each of us—ignoring what appears to be an indirect threat.
However, all of a sudden, Sir Lancelot arrives at the gate and surprises the guards, leading to the demise of one of them. This scene serves as a metaphorical reminder of how we fail to recognize imminent threats due to our tendency to overlook those that do not directly impact us.
Blame the algorithms?
It is essential to understand that deep learning is fundamentally about… learning. The program undergoes training to align vast datasets of input with desired output.
Before we rush to blame social media algorithms and demand complete transparency, there are two important disclaimers to consider:
Mark Zuckerberg has already provided full transparency by stating that they sell ads using our data. The processes that occur between the data and the ads involve a machine attempting to collect data. If we are dissatisfied with the machine’s actions, we need to modify the input or redefine the desired output. If the desired output were “to bring people closer together,” the machine would behave differently than it currently does.
We are the ones who have trained the machine to become the entity that generates echo chambers, flame wars, polarization, civil unrest, and even offline violence resulting in loss of life. In the real world, there are no second chances.
In fact, it is our crocodile brain that has shaped the algorithms. Online, our attention span lasts for a mere three seconds. A tweet has now become the equivalent of a lengthy article. Online, the fast-acting crocodile brain has gained complete control over the sluggish human brain, seeking instant gratification through simplistic messages that provide a quick thrill. This phenomenon has come to be known as clickbait. The crocodile spots the bait and bites (clicks). We are engaged in a hunt for prey, and with each catch, dopamine is released in our brain, resulting in extreme addictive behavior.
When our inner crocodile encounters content that appears long and complex (beyond a mere headline), it grows bored and disregards the message. The algorithms, which are designed to collect data through interactions (such as clicks), are being trained based on this crocodile behavior.
We do not open lengthy, intricate, and aspirational messages as they are too abstract and fail to provide instant gratification or dopamine release.
We prefer things we already like and dislike things we disagree with. We reinforce our preferences or engage in battles against our dislikes. We have trained the algorithms to create echo chambers and fuel flame wars, providing an ideal environment for populism(1) and populists who deny the reality of climate collapse.
(1)Populism refers to a range of political stances that emphasize the idea of “the people” and often juxtapose this group against “the elite”. It is frequently associated with anti-establishment and anti-political sentiment. Populists strive to appeal to people who feel that their concerns are disregarded by established elite groups.
In April 2018, when I was invited to give a keynote speech alongside Alexander Nix, the former CEO of Cambridge Analytica, I had the opportunity to engage in a lengthy backstage conversation with him. Moreover, I witnessed his keynote presentation along with an audience of 5000 individuals. His speech was both fascinating and alarming, leaving the audience in a state of shock. However, it was not admiration that they felt; rather, they were devastated. Watching Nix speak reminded me of the emotional impact of watching the film “Bambi.”
Nix explained how algorithms were being utilized to support populism. He emphasized the importance of understanding people’s fears. Once Cambridge Analytica identified these fears, the algorithms would reinforce and amplify them, while simultaneously attributing these fears to “the establishment” as the root of all evil.
The approach was straightforward: exploit individuals’ fears by disseminating them online and assigning blame to “the establishment.” This establishment encompassed figures such as Hillary Clinton, the mainstream media, scientists, intellectuals, and others. Populism has been rapidly gaining traction worldwide, and its correlation with the influence of data-collecting algorithms cannot be denied. People have lost faith in centralized authorities as they perceive them to be sources of danger.
Climate collapse is a daunting issue that is characterized by its complexity, non-linearity, and far-reaching impact on our way of life. The positive effects of any actions we take today to address the problem may not be immediately apparent. It could take years or even decades to witness significant changes. Given these circumstances, there is perhaps no better topic for populist movements to rally against the establishment and garner popular support than climate change. Consequently, some populists have begun labeling climate denial as “climate realism,” while dismissing other perspectives as mere “climate hysteria.”
Houston, the situation is dire, and we must hold the crocodile accountable. At this point, you may think, “Alright, Rik, we get it. You’ve identified the culprit responsible for all the current turmoil.” And you are correct—I place blame on the crocodile. The crocodile brain that we have inherited, which is intended to ensure our species’ survival, has become the greatest threat to humankind. The reason is simple: we have endowed it with a superpower—the human brain, which consumes so much energy that we often switch it into standby mode.
Within the secure environment we have created by leveraging our human brain to transcend the limitations of nature, the crocodile brain, programmed for survival, becomes a liability. It misinterprets many harmless stimuli as threats or traps, leading to detrimental consequences. Meanwhile, the human brain concocts various explanations to conceal the mess. However, artificial intelligence (AI) will not do the same.
Doomsday
Are we doomed? No, we are not.
We have utilized our remarkable human brain to create an invaluable companion that is devoid of basic emotions and capable of solving problems that surpass human capabilities: AI. We have essentially created our own Houston.
AI is not the final frontier, despite what some may claim. It holds immense potential and may be our greatest invention yet. Let us not succumb to the fear instilled by the crocodile brain that failed to foresee its emergence. Yielding to that fear only grants power to the crocodile once again.
We should not fear AI but must prevent it from becoming a tool for the crocodile brain. We allowed the crocodile to exploit our human brain and misuse our interconnected world to sow division. We must not permit the same abuse with AI. The crocodile brain caused the oxygen tank explosion and the demise of Houston, but now we have created a new Houston with our human brain that could serve as the deus ex machina between humanity and a positive outcome. We must harness that power for good, not for evil or ugliness.
We need to forge an alliance between the human brain and AI and dismantle the reign of the crocodile.
We must circumvent the crocodile brain, which both contributes to climate collapse and denies its consequences. It is the same brain that instills fear of the message and potential solutions, including the aid of AI.
What do we need to do?
The answer is surprisingly simple. What sets us apart as humans? What ignites our compassion, curiosity, creativity, and inspiration? It is storytelling. Throughout our evolution, we have employed stories, legends, myths, and fairytales to make complex and daunting problems more understandable, circumventing the influence of the crocodile brain.
Storytelling serves as a powerful tool to raise awareness about issues within our communities and across the globe. Impactful stories resonate with our human emotions and have the potential to inspire action and drive change. Stories are what keep us grounded in our humanity. Our inclination to tell stories is deeply ingrained within us. Stories hold significance.
In their essence, stories preserve and breathe life into cultures. They serve as a timeless connection to ancient traditions, legends, myths, and archetypes. Stories matter because they shape our perception of the world and guide our way of life. They safeguard and transmit cultural knowledge from one generation to the next.
Getting started.
Present the compelling reason to transform our way of living and interacting with the planet before it reaches a point of no return. However, we must acknowledge that this emotion carries negativity and lacks a clear direction, making it both necessary and perilous.
By realizing the merger of the human brain and AI within the next decade, humanity may triumph over the destructive reign of the crocodile. This achievement holds the potential to secure a future of happiness and prosperity for our children and future generations
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