A fundamental pattern in history is the adoption of technology and
associated or prerequisite knowledge and its impact on the quality of
the experiences of those around it. The advent of history — the written
word, a way of storing and transmitting knowledge of events — is itself
an instance of this phenomenon. With the advent of history, societies
changed, the quality of life of their members changed, their way of
understanding the world and how they responded to it changed. This broad
idea transcends time and scale. We can examine the impact of technology
and knowledge on a contemporary business, its performance, and employee
satisfaction. We can apply the lens backwards in time and ask ourselves
how the development of technology and knowledge — say, Newtonian
physics — impacted a society's economy, its cosmology, and the
opportunities it afforded different members in education, work, or other
ways of achieving their ends. Similarly, we can look at the impact of,
say, the tech industry in San Francisco or Boston on the lives of their
communities today.
A key tenet in the exploration of this question must explicitly address a common (today and in the past) assumption that additional technology and knowledge is inherently better. The benefits of technology and knowledge are ubiquitous but that notion is not fundamentally true. There are technologies we decide to ban or never pursue — chemical weapons, human genetic engineering, personal data mining — because the implications are at odds with the values we converge on as a society. Likewise, additional knowledge is not always a good thing. It can introduce noise into a system and compromise decision-making.
Quality of experience as a term encapsulates several ideas. First, it refers to the way in which a person understands the universe, how it works, and their role in those dynamics. An early Christian sees the earth as the center of the universe and the outcome of their life as a function of how they have conformed to the prescriptions set out by God and articulated by their religious community. A fatalist sees little role for individual agency in their life. An ambitious professional in our day easily sees the world and their life as a series of challenges-turned-opportunities in advancing their stature. Second, the term refers to the emotional element of how a person relates to their ideas of the world. When my world is a battle between good and evil, I might regularly experience trepidation, wariness, pious resolve. In a more epicurean world where I think I should be enjoying my life, there's greater levity and I might find myself in a mode that's more impulsive, indulgent, and celebratory. The impressions we have of what the world is, and how we define our relationship to that world around us — is it safe? am I responsible for things? — determine how we feel about life and ourselves. This is separate but related to quality of life, which is defined by more external, observable factors, such as mortality and literacy rates, nutrition, income, etc. It's also worth noting that one's mental model and ensuing emotional existence determines character and behavior. Will my piety make me magnanimous and kind, or vindictive and strict? Will my hedonism make me appreciative and fun, or insatiable and reckless?
A key tenet in the exploration of this question must explicitly address a common (today and in the past) assumption that additional technology and knowledge is inherently better. The benefits of technology and knowledge are ubiquitous but that notion is not fundamentally true. There are technologies we decide to ban or never pursue — chemical weapons, human genetic engineering, personal data mining — because the implications are at odds with the values we converge on as a society. Likewise, additional knowledge is not always a good thing. It can introduce noise into a system and compromise decision-making.
Quality of experience as a term encapsulates several ideas. First, it refers to the way in which a person understands the universe, how it works, and their role in those dynamics. An early Christian sees the earth as the center of the universe and the outcome of their life as a function of how they have conformed to the prescriptions set out by God and articulated by their religious community. A fatalist sees little role for individual agency in their life. An ambitious professional in our day easily sees the world and their life as a series of challenges-turned-opportunities in advancing their stature. Second, the term refers to the emotional element of how a person relates to their ideas of the world. When my world is a battle between good and evil, I might regularly experience trepidation, wariness, pious resolve. In a more epicurean world where I think I should be enjoying my life, there's greater levity and I might find myself in a mode that's more impulsive, indulgent, and celebratory. The impressions we have of what the world is, and how we define our relationship to that world around us — is it safe? am I responsible for things? — determine how we feel about life and ourselves. This is separate but related to quality of life, which is defined by more external, observable factors, such as mortality and literacy rates, nutrition, income, etc. It's also worth noting that one's mental model and ensuing emotional existence determines character and behavior. Will my piety make me magnanimous and kind, or vindictive and strict? Will my hedonism make me appreciative and fun, or insatiable and reckless?
