Technocentering: The Machine Stops and the Golden Circle
We need a meditative practice for our technological civilization
If we do not do the impossible, we shall be faced with the unthinkable.
― Murray Bookchin
Another day, another series of major announcements from the world of tech.
Among the big events was the Chinese AI lab DeepSeek just releasing their LLM chatbot, DeepSeek-R1, and causing a huge ruckus in the business of AI this past week. They’re claiming the open source R1 AI model performs as well as OpenAI’s o1 on some tests.
Even for those of us who are tech savvy and following along with recent advancements, it seems like everything is moving at a blinding rate these days. OpenAI only just unveiled ChatGPT 3.5 and ushered in this new era of AI in November of 2022. It hasn’t even been three years, and yet AI images and music and writing have flooded the interwebs. Social media posts and even comments on social media posts are now often being written or edited with AI. Some of us are using AI for a variety of means (I love it for helping with recipe planning and exploring my fitness programming). I personally think we’re only a year or two out from a time when many of us will start using our own AI assistant built into our phones and computers—helping us manage our calendars and emails and mitigating lots of busy work in our lives.
AI is changing everything. And that’s just one realm of technological advancement.
The coronavirus that altered so much of our lives only a few short years ago is still certainly a threat today, though many now would argue that we’ve moved from pandemic to endemic with regard to this virus (it can be a bit hard to tell when a large pandemic or epidemic has subsided). Still, the Covid pandemic really did change so much about our lives, and shifted our reliance on technology into an even higher gear (many people weren’t as actively online as much before the pandemic—heck, I remember a time when only a small subset of us were really using Skype and other online meeting platforms before 2019).
The pandemic served as a rather revealing experiment, testing the resilience of our global economy and infrastructure as well as our relentless pursuit of progress. It also in some ways exposed how careless and destructive these systems can be.
While countless lives were lost and lockdowns reshaped daily life, “essential workers” faced a stark reality—they had to keep the gears of the machine turning, often at great personal cost. Meanwhile, wealth concentrated at the top (and continues to do so), with record profits flowing to a privileged few. Even as we adjust to a world where the pandemic has shifted into an endemic phase, the global machine grinds forward, indifferent to the toll it exacts.
I remember being at home in the early days of the pandemic lockdowns, playing The Last of Us and watching Doomsday Preppers, while stocking up on dried goods and survival gear. For many, it felt like we were teetering on the edge of a dystopia once confined to the pages of science fiction.
E.M. Forster’s 1909 short story The Machine Stops captures this eerie prescience. It imagines a future in which a colossal, all-encompassing machine sustains humanity, isolating individuals in underground cells where they communicate via instant messaging and video calls—an unsettlingly accurate glimpse of our increasingly digitized world (and pretty impressive to have imagined our online connectivity as early as the beginning of the 20th century). Forster's story warns us of what can happen when our dependency on technology grows so pervasive that we lose sight of ourselves.
And yet, we seem trapped in a false dichotomy: either we press on in this relentless march of progress, ignoring the casualties along the way, or the entire system collapses. Why do we struggle to envision a middle ground—a sustainable, humane path that embraces both technological advancement and our deeper need for connection, purpose, and meaning?
In Forster’s story, the machine provides for every need but at the cost of individuality, creativity, and authentic human experience. The story explores a concept similar to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave with regard to an individual’s discovery of the reality of their situation but then being unable to convince others, even their own family, of the issues that are developing with their reliance on the Machine. Eventually, the Machine falters, and its users—having forgotten how to live without it—descend into chaos. Forster would later relate that The Machine Stops was “a reaction to one of the earlier heavens of H.G. Wells.” In Wells’ The Time Machine, a future is visited where the time traveler discovers a society where the competition of the “haves vs. the have nots” has played out over time to create two distinct classes of human—the above-ground Eloi who bask in luxury and ignorance being fed and cared for like cattle by the below-ground Morlocks who maintain the machines that run civilization (and rely on the Eloi for their own sustenance). The time traveler’s adventure “into futurity” reveals a breakdown of society due to the machine of progress having become unstoppable. Similar themes are explored in the 1927 film Metropolis and many other works since.
Such allegory as what we see in The Machine Stops feels more urgent than ever.
As we confront the ethical dilemmas of our modern technologies—from exploitative labor practices to environmental degradation—we should ask of ourselves:
Is there any other way to continue our unabated progress without sacrificing so much?
How can we be present with ourselves and explore the human condition while enjoying these technological marvels we’ve developed?
Is there a way to calibrate our course ahead?
How can we re-center ourselves within this technological web we’ve spun?
What we need is a technocentering—a meditative practice for our technological civilization.
What I’m calling technocentering can involve reflecting on our relationships with our technology, not just in terms of utility or progress, but through the lens of purpose. It’s about finding our "why" amidst the endless drive to produce, consume, and innovate.
It could be as simple as being a bit more curious about where the smartphone in your hand came from, allowing yourself to be consciously aware of the mining practices that brought the resources together, the people who assembled the parts, the chain of progress that led to the technology to operate the thing, and what it would mean for you if you didn’t have it at all.
Technocentering can be thoughtful interrogation of the machine of civilization and active discussion about whether we ought to place value in products and consumption to find meaning in our lives.
Just sitting and thinking on the nature of our technology, where it has brought us from, and where it is taking us to could be healthy for all of us.
An interesting way to consider the importance of finding our “why” in such ways can be seen in the concept of The Golden Circle, developed by Simon Sinek. Though Sinek applies the concept mostly to business and company leadership, it can apply to other human endeavors as well.
In Sinek’s framework, there are three concentric circles outlining the things that we do. The outermost circle contains the "what"—the tangible outcomes of our work (stuff we sell or impacts we make). Within that is another circle of the "how"—the methods and processes we use to achieve our goals. But at the core is the "why"—the driving purpose that gives meaning to everything else.
Too often, our businesses or leadership or even civilization itself focuses on the "what" and the "how," losing sight of the "why." Why are we building these systems? Why are we pursuing these goals? Why do we want progress?
Take the example of satellite-based Wi-Fi: Do we want global connectivity if it comes at the cost of future generations losing their view of the stars? This is a majorly complex issue. I, for one, see good reasons for StarLink and other satellite constellations to provide the internet from space—we’ll have global connectivity and an even greater democratization of the internet, bringing on more voices from around the globe who up-until-now have not had internet access. But it also comes at the cost of losing our night’s sky (already if you look up from a dark place you can almost instantly see myriad satellites crossing the sky—our dark sky heritage may almost be gone for the sake of progress).
For other examples: Do we want cheap, mass-produced food if it perpetuates animal cruelty and environmental harm? Do we need the latest smartphone every year if it relies on exploitative mining and labor practices? Why are we perpetuating systems of inequality, allowing CEOs to earn tens of thousands of times more than their employees? And why do we aspire to explore space, to reach for the stars?
These aren’t simply rhetorical questions. Such questions demand honest, deliberate answers, both individually and collectively. Without this introspection, we risk becoming cogs in the very machine we’ve built, blind to its consequences and deaf to its warnings.
The “false prophets” of the Bible can very much be likened to the whims of a society being driven toward progress without any consideration of value:
By covetousness they will exploit you with deceptive words; for a long time their judgment has not been idle, and their destruction does not slumber.
2 Peter 2:3 (NKJV)
Technocentering doesn’t mean rejecting progress. Instead, it’s an argument about integrating mindfulness into progress, ensuring that our technological and economic advancements align with our values and aspirations.
Philosophers from Aristotle to Viktor Frankl have emphasized the importance of purpose in the human experience. Aristotle spoke of eudaimonia—flourishing through virtue and meaningful activity. Frankl, reflecting on his experiences in a concentration camp, argued that humans can endure almost any "how" if they have a compelling "why." This resonates with the idea that we need a shared sense of purpose to guide our continued technological journey (and help to be prepared for where it will take us).
Imagine if we approached technological development as a form of meditation itself—intentional, reflective, and centered. What might change if corporations prioritized ethical practices over short-term profits, even just a little bit? What if education systems cultivated curiosity and empathy alongside technical skills? What if governments weighed the long-term impacts of policies rather than catering to immediate demands within the timeframes of election cycles?
Technocentering, developing a mindful approach to technological development, could open pathways to new socioeconomic, philosophical, and technological paradigms. By finding our collective "why," we can move beyond the binary of blind progress versus total collapse (and seeing the Machine truly stop). Instead, we can chart a path that honors both our human and technological potential, creating a future where progress serves the greater good rather than undermining it.
The machine doesn’t have to stop for us to realize where it’s taken us. But the concept of progress at all costs needs to be eradicated if we truly want to see human civilization thrive in the future and avoid dystopian nightmares. We can—and must—learn to live better within this machine that we’ve built, finding balance and meaning along the way.
You must consider the implications of the reality of Non-Human Intelligences & UAP interacting with humanity throughout history, and the systemic cover-up of these facts that has been ongoing for decades.