INTRODUCTION
This is a book about what happens to people when they are overwhelmed by change. It is
about the ways in which we adapt—or fail to adapt—to the future. Much has been written
about the future. Yet, for the most part, books about the world to come sound a harsh metallic
note. These pages, by contrast, concern themselves with the "soft" or human side of
tomorrow. Moreover, they concern themselves with the steps by which we are likely to reach
tomorrow. They deal with common, everyday matters—the products we buy and discard, the
places we leave behind, the corporations we inhabit, the people who pass at an ever faster clip
through our lives. The future of friendship and family life is probed. Strange new subcultures
and life styles are investigated, along with an array of other subjects from politics and
playgrounds to skydiving and sex.
What joins all these—in the book as in life—is the roaring current of change, a current
so powerful today that it overturns institutions, shifts our values and shrivels our roots.
Change is the process by which the future invades our lives, and it is important to look at it
closely, not merely from the grand perspectives of history, but also from the vantage point of
the living, breathing individuals who experience it.
The acceleration of change in our time is, itself, an elemental force. This accelerative
thrust has personal and psychological, as well as sociological, consequences. In the pages
ahead, these effects of acceleration are, for the first time, systematically explored. The book
argues forcefully, I hope, that, unless man quickly learns to control the rate of change in his
personal affairs as well as in society at large, we are doomed to a massive adaptational
breakdown.
In 1965, in an article in Horizon, I coined the term "future shock" to describe the
shattering stress and disorientation that we induce in individuals by subjecting them to too
much change in too short a time. Fascinated by this concept, I spent the next five years
visiting scores of universities, research centers, laboratories, and government agencies,
reading countless articles and scientific papers and interviewing literally hundreds of experts
on different aspects of change, coping behavior, and the future. Nobel prizewinners, hippies,
psychiatrists, physicians, businessmen, professional futurists, philosophers, and educators
gave voice to their concern over change, their anxieties about adaptation, their fears about the
future. I came away from this experience with two disturbing convictions.
First, it became clear that future shock is no longer a distantly potential danger, but a
real sickness from which increasingly large numbers already suffer. This psycho-biological
condition can be described in medical and psychiatric terms. It is the disease of change.
Second, I gradually came to be appalled by how little is actually known about
adaptivity, either by those who call for and create vast changes in our society, or by those
who supposedly prepare us to cope with those changes. Earnest intellectuals talk bravely
about "educating for change" or "preparing people for the future." But we know virtually
nothing about how to do it. In the most rapidly changing environment to which man has ever
been exposed, we remain pitifully ignorant of how the human animal copes.
Our psychologists and politicians alike are puzzled by the seemingly irrational
resistance to change exhibited by certain individuals and groups. The corporation head who
wants to reorganize a department, the educator who wants to introduce a new teaching
method, the mayor who wants to achieve peaceful integration of the races in his city—all, at
one time or another, face this blind resistance. Yet we know little about its sources. By the
same token, why do some men hunger, even rage for change, doing all in their power to
create it, while others flee from it? I not only found no ready answers to such questions, but