"The illiterate of the twenty-first century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.”
So declared Alvin Toffler (1928-2016) — who would have been 94 on October 4 — in his groundbreaking 1970 book Future Shock.
At the outset, I must confess: I cannot resonate more with this sentiment. In an era where companies race to develop artificial intelligence (AI) products and train their systems with vast amounts of data, a new problem is emerging: how to make AI forget. Now, a question might arise in your mind: Why would we need AI to forget?
Imagine this: You have a newborn, just learning to walk. You marvel at those first wobbly steps, and soon, he or she is attempting to speak. As you joyfully teach your child to say “mumma” and “dadda,” someone has carelessly left YouTube running in the background.
Suddenly, a stand-up comedian’s colourful language fills the air. The next thing you know, your child repeats a word you never intended for them to learn. Wouldn’t you wish, at that very moment, that your child could simply forget what they heard and listen only to your loving words?
Yet, reality strikes hard; your child has absorbed something you wish they hadn’t.
This is the same challenge that AI faces today: The difficulty of unlearning. Once an AI system has absorbed information — whether benign or harmful — how can we expect it to unlearn?
This is a conundrum that has perplexed humanity for ages, and while we may argue that technology will inevitably evolve to address it, the pressing concern is not solely about AI. It’s about us — humans.
By the time your child turns 18, they will have consumed approximately 30,000 hours of media, encountered 500,000 unique advertisements, received 15,000 hours of formal education, participated in 2,000-3,000 hours of religious service, and spent 1,000 hours with friends and family.
Each experience shapes their understanding of the world, their beliefs about right and wrong, and a kaleidoscope of emotions.
The next time your child hears someone cursing on the street, their reaction may be far less shocking than yours. The countless hours of input have established a new normal in their mind, blurring the lines of what they perceive as good and bad.
But why does this happen, why does anyone else after seeing the same thing believe what I believe.
Life would be so easy and the world a happier place, but sadly the explanation is complicated and sociologists spend their time writing research papers about it.
But for us simpletons, let's consider an analogy of a warehouse full of items. If you needed to find a specific object, would you empty the entire space, or would you sift through the clutter, hoping to make do with whatever you find? Or take your iPhone: Over the years, your WhatsApp storage has swelled to an astonishing 7 GB. Searching for a number takes so long that you often resort to just calling the person instead.
Just like that overflowing warehouse, your child’s mind becomes a reservoir of information, often too full to function optimally. The effort required to clear the clutter — whether it’s sorting through a warehouse or deleting thousands of WhatsApp chats — feels overwhelming.
So instead, we settle for the nearest connection, which ultimately leads to the formation of our beliefs.
These connections are unique to each individual, creating a rich tapestry of personal understanding.
However, it is only those who take the time to empty their mental warehouses and delete outdated beliefs who can forge connections that resonate more closely with the truth.
As adults, our brains store roughly 30 petabytes of data. Recognising when to declutter our mental space requires self-awareness. Once we embark on the journey of cleaning up our thoughts, we uncover empty spaces or realise we’ve been holding onto the wrong beliefs.
To be honest, it reminds me of a famous quote by Donald Rumsfeld, that “There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know.”
On a lighter note, I at least know that it sounds super confusing.
As I sit down to reflect on my first few weeks in London, I find myself grappling with what many call culture shock. To be candid, I am in serious shock; everything I believed for the past 30 years is being challenged on a daily basis.
Despite having spent the last 13 years away from home, cultivating a habit of constant awareness and ongoing mental unpacking, I realise now that I’ve never truly emptied my mental warehouse.
In India, most of our education is generally structured around a familiar format: Professors speak, we listen, and then engage in brief Q&A sessions. However, the educational landscape here in the UK has flipped that script entirely.
Here, you're expected to read the chapters beforehand and come prepared to engage. The classroom dynamic shifts as the teacher prompts discussions, asking for your beliefs, insights and paraphrasing for others.
Let me delve deeper into what this experience does to your brain. When you encounter new information, your mind instinctively reaches for the closest item in your mental warehouse, forming a belief or understanding of the topic.
In class, when your teacher asks you to articulate that belief, you share it aloud. In that moment, the teacher can gauge your understanding, identifying any potential misconceptions. They guide you to unpack or reorganise your mental warehouse by questioning the connections you've formed, ultimately helping you create new, accurate ones.
Contrast this with traditional methods I've often encountered, where a teacher delivers information unilaterally, remaining unaware of the beliefs that form in students’ minds.
These unexamined beliefs can linger for a lifetime, unchallenged and unrefined.
In a country where lakhs of students appear for competitive exams and parents spend a fortune trying to get their student educated at top Indian universities, I have personally witnessed students failing year after year at such exams while seeing a few pass in a single attempt and some in many.
What is the difference, the questions are the same, the syllabus is the same, some may point out that the intelligence may be different but I disagree to a certain extent. The inability or without the means to rewire the connections formed within the minds of those students could lead to an entirely different understanding of the concepts and the exam they were preparing for.
Today, as I reflect on my past decisions, I recognise that my beliefs often made tasks seem more daunting than they were. Whether it was raising funds for my start-up or managing daily operations, I’d set out on a path set out by my beliefs.
And today as someone guides me through the unpacking process, I discovered that many of these challenges were not as insurmountable as I had perceived. I ponder whether this is why having a good circle of friends within your operational network becomes important as I wrote in my last article or the mentors as I wrote in the previous one.
Most tasks, no matter how significant they appeared, were ultimately achievable through human action. It became clear to me that success hinges on the right actions based on sound beliefs.
If we don’t learn to unlearn quickly, those beliefs or connections will keep us distanced from the right path, rendering challenges harder than they truly are.
It sounds deceptively simple: A clear pathway to achieving success, happiness, or whatever it is you desire. Yet, the reality is often far more complex.
My culture shock isn't about the food, clothing, or lifestyle — it's the monumental realisation of everything I need to unlearn. It feels akin to clearing 15 GB of WhatsApp messages from your phone; the task seems overwhelming, but necessary.
I don’t know about you, but I am indeed in shock!
