A few days ago, I stumbled across the theory that social media and AI are robbing people of their future. I found this idea interesting and began to think more about this question and do some research (which, incidentally, was and still is really very interesting and exciting). It became increasingly clear to me that the question is more about what kind of future we want… and less about something being ‚robbed‘ from us. Here are a few thoughts on this (and, as always, I will try to draw a connection to my field of work, qualitative market research)…

Core thesis (and also a little summary)

Social networks and AI offer us different forms of future: an accelerated present, a calculated future or open possibilities. The crucial question is not whether we are losing the future, but what form of future we want to shape. Only if we make conscious choices and defend spaces of resonance, natality and unavailability will the future remain truly open.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ This is also the basis for a plea for qualitative market research.

Humankind and its relationship to the future has been fascinating throughout history and has changed significantly from antiquity to the present day… through liberation of science and philosophy, and also through technology. While in ancient times the future was fate and determined by the gods, and in the Middle Ages part of a divine plan, since the Renaissance and Enlightenment it has increasingly become a project and symbol of a belief in progress, in which humans can shape the future and make tomorrow’s world a better place. Only in the last few years has this image begun to falter, with fear of the future often replacing hope.

Humans as creatures of the future

In principle, as Ernst Bloch wrote, (modern) humans are „beings open to the future“. They live not only in the present, but also in expectation and hope. For them, the future is not merely a period of time, but a space of possibility in which meaning, hope and self-determination unfold. Bloch called this ability the *principle of hope* – the ability to think beyond the existing, to imagine a better world and to actively shape it.

Hannah Arendt linked this openness to the future with the concept of ’natality‘: the human ability to start something new that did not exist before. „With every human being born,“ she wrote, „something new comes into the world.“ This openness is not a trait that one either has or does not have – it must be chosen, practiced and defended.

Today, however, we are facing a new historical situation: digital technologies – especially social networks and artificial intelligence – offer us different forms of future. They are not simply threats or tools. They are blueprints for the future, between which we must choose.

The crucial question is not: „Are we losing the future?„

But rather: „What future do we want to shape?“

Three forms of future

Put simply, there are three modes of experiencing the future available to us today – each with its own logic, its own promises, its own costs:

The accelerated present (social networks)

Social networks offer a form of future that consists of constant updates: the future as an endless sequence of presents. Every moment promises novelty, connection, event. Byung-Chul Han describes this dynamic as follows: „Acceleration erases the otherness of time. The event is replaced by the update.“

This mode has its charms: immediate participation, permanent stimulation, the feeling of not missing anything. But it also has its costs: the space between stimulus and response shrinks. The narrative self fragments. Depth is replaced by speed.

Psychotherapist Viktor Frankl called the space between stimulus and response the place of our freedom. In our accelerated present, this space is being systematically reduced. The question is: do we want a future that dissolves into a constant now?

The calculated future (artificial intelligence)

AI offers a different form: the future as a forecast, as an optimised path, as intelligent anticipation. Algorithms analyse data, recognise patterns, recommend the next step. This form promises efficiency, security, relief.

Martin Heidegger would have seen this as a perfect ‚framework‘ – technological thinking that understands the world as a calculable entity. Shoshana Zuboff speaks of the ‚commodification of future behaviour‘: the future is no longer shaped, but calculated and sold.

This form also has its price: the unpredictable disappears. The risk of the new is minimised. The experience that I could also act differently disappears. The question is: do we want a future that has already been thought out for us?

The open future (resonance and natality)

There is a third form: the future as an open space of possibility. A future that does not know what is to come. That cannot be calculated, but must be hoped for. That is risky because it can fail – and is therefore alive.

Sociologist Hartmut Rosa calls the prerequisite for this ‚resonance‘: the experience that the world really responds – not with what I expect, but with what transforms me. Resonance only arises where something remains unavailable, where I do not control everything.

This form has no comfort advantage. It is exhausting, uncertain, sometimes painful. But it is the only one in which something truly new can begin. The question is: are we prepared to endure this openness?

Resonance as a benchmark – what do we want to experience?

Rosa offers us a yardstick for distinguishing between these forms. For him, resonance is not a romantic idea, but a precise category of world relation. It arises when three conditions are met:

1. Responsiveness: the world touches me – truly, not just as a stimulus.
2. Answerability: I can respond to it – with my own voice, not in a standardised way.
3. Transformation: something changes in this relationship – in me and in the other.

We can use these criteria to evaluate the three forms of the future:

The accelerated present generates irritability instead of responsiveness. It standardises responses (likes, emojis). Transformation does not take place – the algorithm only shows us what we already are. Rosa would say: these are resonance simulations – they sound like relationships, but they echo emptily.

The calculated future makes responsiveness superfluous – AI has already answered before I have asked. Responsiveness shrinks to a choice between pre-calculated options. Transformation is not intended – the system wants stability, not surprise.

The open future, on the other hand, thrives on genuine resonance. It presupposes that something happens that I cannot control. That the world really responds – not algorithmically, but in a living way. Only here can transformation take place.

The question „What future do we want?“ can therefore be narrowed down: Do we want a future in which resonance remains possible?
A rhetorical question, because if the future were not like that, we humans would no longer be human. 

Four areas of life – where do we make decisions?

The choice between forms of the future is not abstract. It happens concretely in the areas that structure our lives. Rosa identifies four axes of resonance: work, politics, art and spirituality. In each of these fields, the question arises anew: What form of future do we want to shape here?

Work – efficiency or meaning?

In the world of work, two visions stand in opposition to each other:

Vision 1: AI-optimised: algorithms evaluate performance, AI optimises processes, platforms quantify success. Work becomes measurable, predictable, efficient. This promises less waste, more productivity, optimal allocation of resources.

Vision 2: Resonant: Work as a place of self-efficacy, as a space for transformation, as a relationship with materials, people, tasks. Craftsmanship, care work, teaching – wherever the unplannable remains central. The carpenter feels the wood, the teacher responds to the child, the therapist endures uncertainty.

The question is not: which is better? But rather: what do we want to prioritise? 
A society can have both – but it must decide which sets the tone. Do we want a working world in which resonance becomes a luxury good? Or one in which efficiency serves meaning?

Politics – optimisation or natality?

In politics, too, different visions of the future collide:

Vision 1: data-driven: politics as the intelligent management of complex systems. AI recognises needs, algorithms optimise allocation, platforms enable direct participation. This promises rational decisions, less ideology, effective problem solving.

Vision 2: natal: politics as a space for collective beginnings. Arendt defines politics as the ability to initiate something new – something that did not exist before and could not be predicted . Politics is the space of spontaneity, collective imagination, the unpredictable.

The question: do we want politics as an optimisation of the existing – or as a space for radical new beginnings? 
Can we imagine a democracy that combines both? One that is data-based and intelligent – but leaves room for what no one has thought of yet?

Art – virality or event?

The conflict is particularly acute in art:

Vision 1: platform-based: art as content. Reach instead of depth, engagement instead of authenticity. Algorithms determine what is seen. Success becomes measurable. This promises democratisation, new voices, global visibility.

Vision 2: Event-based: Art as the unavailable. Rosa says: Art is the most radical form of resonance because it cannot be instrumentalised. A poem, a picture, a performance happen – they cannot be calculated. They transform without functioning.

The question: do we want art that goes viral – or art that touches us? 
Sometimes the two are the same, but often they are not. Can we create platforms that give space to the eventful – instead of just quantifying it?

Spirituality – availability or grace?

In religion or spirituality (in the broadest sense), the fundamental question becomes most apparent:

Vision 1: optimised: meditation as a productivity technique, mindfulness as stress management, spirituality as wellness. Self-optimisation as a life project. This promises control over the inner self, availability of the self.

Vision 2: unavailable: religion as a relationship with the completely other, with the unconditional. In secular societies where religion and state are separate, experiences of nature, contemplation or philosophical practice often take on this role. The crucial point is that here, the unavailable is not experienced as a deficiency, but as grace.

The question: Do we want to make our innermost selves available – or preserve a space that remains elusive? 
Spirituality as a space for enduring unavailability. Those who forget how to do this lose not only transcendence, but also freedom.

Concrete decisions – how do we choose?

The question „What future do we want?“ is not just philosophical. It requires concrete, everyday decisions. Some examples:

Personal level

Time management: Do I defend the open „space in between“ – or do I fill every gap with input?
Communication: Do I seek resonance or reach?
Use of technology: Do I use AI as a tool for my thinking – or as a substitute for it?
Learning: Do I want to consume knowledge or be transformed and inspired?

Social level

Relationships: Do I invest in encounters that have an open outcome – or in quantifiable networks?
Community: Am I creating spaces for joint creation – or am I organising efficient collaboration?
Self-care work: Do I recognise it as a resonant practice – or as a disruptive factor to productivity?

Political level

Technology regulation: Do we protect areas of life that should not be fully calculated, controlled or optimised ( , nature, love, education, democracy, etc.)?
Education: Do we educate for conformity or for natality? For functioning or for ‚beginning‘?
Economy: Do we measure success only in terms of efficiency – or also in terms of resonance, meaning, self-efficacy?
Public space: Do we design it for encounters and events – or for consumption and surveillance?

Synthesis instead of either/or

It would be wrong to stage the choice as either/or, as Kierkegaard did. The challenge is to integrate different forms of the future – without one colonising the other.

Technologies are not destructive per se. They only become dangerous when they operate without ethical and political control. When used consciously, AI can broaden horizons. Algorithmic efficiency can create resources for resonance.

Humans always live in spaces for practice – cultures are systems of self-refinement. Digital technologies can also be such spaces if we design them accordingly. The question is: do we practise availability – or resonance?

H. Rosa, whose approach I find most exciting on this topic, takes a nuanced view here: digital spaces can also become resonant – open-source communities, collaborative projects and artistic networks demonstrate this. The decisive factor is attitude, not the medium.

So the central question is: how do we design technologies that enable different forms of the future – and leave people the choice?

In concrete terms, this could mean:

• Algorithms that promote openness instead of confirmation
• AI that asks questions instead of just giving answers
• Platforms that reward slowness instead of just reaction speed
• Digital spaces with „unavailability zones“ – places that deliberately resist optimisation

Making the choice – now, always

The moment we are living in is historically unique: we still have a choice. The architectures are still malleable. The practices are not yet fully established. The cultures are still in flux.

Arendt would say: this is precisely the opportunity of natality. We can start something that did not exist before. We can design technologies differently. We can set different priorities.

Bloch would add: the principle of hope is not an illusion, but an attitude. It does not mean believing that everything will be fine – but acting as if it could be better.

Choosing resonance is choosing risk. Resonance cannot be forced or guaranteed. But it is the only thing that makes life truly alive.

Between stimulus and response there is a space, and in that space lies our freedom – including the freedom to choose what future we want.

Final question … but not yet the conclusion

The text began with the question: „What future do we want?„

Perhaps it can now be formulated more precisely, and perhaps it demands, again according to Kierkegaard, an either/or choice after all?

• Do we want a future that is predictable, efficient and controlled – or one that remains open, resonant and risky?
• Do we want a society that regards unavailability as a problem – or as a condition of freedom?
• Do we want technologies that take thinking off our hands – or ones that challenge us to think?
• Do we want a culture that optimises the future – or one that hopes for it?

The answer is not predetermined. It lies in our hands – in every conversation, every decision, every practice.

The future is not a date, but an attitude.

And that attitude begins now. Actually, it always does.

And what does all this have to do with qualitative market research, my profession (which I love so much)?

This open future is not an abstract philosophical category, but manifests itself in concrete practices. Qualitative market research offers an insightful example of this – precisely because it is under pressure to justify itself in an increasingly data-driven world.

When I meet people in an in-depth interview, I make a conscious decision: against the efficiency of automated online surveys, against the scalability of AI-supported sentiment analyses, against the apparent objectivity of large amounts of data. Instead, I choose a form of encounter that enables resonance in Rosa’s sense – a relationship in which the conversation partner does not appear as a data object, but as a counterpart who responds, who can surprise, irritate and touch me.

There is a double openness in this encounter: the respondent contributes perspectives, contradictions and nuances that cannot be calculated from past data. In Arendt’s words, they are capable of natality – of bringing something new into the world that is not merely a reproduction of the familiar. And as a researcher, I must be prepared to have my assumptions and hypotheses questioned, to be moved by what emerges.

What emerges here is not merely the collection of information about a passive object of investigation, but a shared space in which meaning is first produced. Insight does not come from the accumulation of data points, but from lively conversation and a willingness to engage with one another.

The digitisation of market research undoubtedly increases efficiency: more respondents in less time, faster evaluation, reproducible processes. But conscious personal engagement is „inefficient“ in a productive sense. It requires time, presence, and the ability to empathise. It cannot be scaled, standardised, or reproduced algorithmically. And that is precisely where its value lies: it enables a quality of insight that remains categorically inaccessible to the calculated future.

This difference can be clarified with Frederic Vester’s concept of networked thinking: qualitative research captures the complex, non-linear interrelationships of human lifeworlds – the interactions between values, emotions, biographical experiences and social contexts that cannot be reduced to simple cause-and-effect chains. It is open to feedback effects, apparent contradictions, and the emergence of meaning from networked contexts.

Data-driven research, on the other hand, must reduce this complexity in order to remain predictable. It isolates variables, searches for clear correlations, and translates interconnectedness into linear models. Even though it works with huge amounts of data and ostensibly maps complexity, it ultimately reduces it to patterns that can be extrapolated from the past. What is lost in the process is precisely what Vester calls „cybernetic thinking“: the ability to grasp systems in their dynamic entirety, to remain open to unexpected developments that arise from the interconnectedness itself.

In qualitative encounters, on the other hand, I can do justice to this complexity because I am not forced to operationalise it in advance. The interviewee can show me how different aspects of their life are interwoven – and I can understand these connections without having to squeeze them into a predefined scheme.

The choice of this form of research is therefore more than just a methodological decision. It is a decision about what kind of future we want: one that can be calculated from past patterns, or one that remains open to the new, which can only arise in the living encounter between people and in the recognition of interconnected complexity.

One final thought and comment: I see this post primarily as food for thought; that was precisely what prompted me to write it. I have always been an optimist, but I must admit that recent years have sometimes made it difficult to maintain this fundamental attitude with complete conviction. But when you really let your thoughts fly, you are left with the (personal) realisation that progress is always being made, and I hope, but am also certain, that ‚the human‘ will find the right path. It’s about looking ahead. Always.