Jul 31 JDN 2459792
It’s a question you get a lot in job interviews, and sometimes from elsewhere as well: “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
I never quite know how to answer such a question, because the future is so full of uncertainty.
Ten years from now:
I could be a tenured professor, or have left academia entirely. I could be teaching here at Edinburgh, or at an even more prestigious university, or at a tiny, obscure school. I could be working in private industry, or unemployed. I could be working as a full-time freelance writer.
I could have published nothing new, or have published a few things, or have won a Fields Medal. (It’s especially unlikely to have won a Nobel by then, but it’s a bit less unlikely that I might have done work that would one day lead to one.)
I could be still living in the United Kingdom, or back in the United States, or in some other country entirely.
I could be healthier than I am now, or permanently disabled. I could even be dead, from a variety of diseases, or a car accident, or a gunshot wound.
I could have adopted three children, or none. I could be divorced. My spouse could be dead.
It could even all be moot because the Russian war in Ukraine—or some other act of Russian aggression—has escalated into a nuclear Third World War.
These are the relatively likely scenarios.
I’m not saying I’m going to win a Fields Medal—but I am the sort of person who wins Fields Medals, surely far more likely than any randomly selected individual. I’m not saying we’re going to have WW3, but we’re definitely closer to it than we’ve been since the end of the Cold War.
There are plenty of other, unlikely scenarios that still remain possible:
I could be working in finance, or engineering, or medicine. I could be living on a farm. I could be President of the United States. I could have won a multi-million-dollar lottery and retired to a life of luxury and philanthropy. Those seem rather unlikely for me personally—but they are all true of someone, somewhere.
I could be living on a space station, or a Lunar base. I could be cybernetically enhanced. 2032 seems early for such things—but it didn’t to folks writing in the 1980s, so who knows? (Maybe it will even happen so gradually we won’t notice: Is a glucose-monitoring implant a cybernetic enhancement? It doesn’t seem so unlikely I might one day have one of those.)
None of us really knows what the future is going to hold. We could say what we want, or what we expect is the most likely, but more often than not, the world will surprise us.
What does this mean for our lives now? Should we give up trying to make plans, since the future is so unpredictable? Should we “eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die”?
I think the key is to realize that there is a kind of planning that’s still useful even if you can’t predict what will happen—and that is to plan to be flexible and resilient.
You can keep your eyes open for opportunities, rather than trying too hard to hold onto what you already have. Rather than trying in vain to keep everything the same, you can accept that your life is going to change and try to direct that change in better directions.
Rather than planning on staying in the same career for your whole life—which hardly anyone in our generation does—you should expect to change careers, and be working on building a wide range of transferable skills and a broad network of friends and colleagues. Maybe sooner or later you’ll find the right place to settle down, but it could be awhile.
You may not know where you’ll be living or working in ten years, but odds are pretty good that it’ll still be useful for you to have some money saved up, so you should probably save some money. If we end up in a post-scarcity utopia, you won’t need it, but you also won’t care. If we end up in a post-apocalyptic hellscape, it really won’t matter one way or the other. And those two extremes are about what would need to happen for you not to be able to make use of savings.
And where should you put that saved money? Stocks, bonds, cryptocurrency? Well, crypto would give you a chance at spectacular gains—but a much larger chance of spectacular losses. Bonds are very safe, but also don’t grow very much. So, as I’ve said before, you probably want to buy stocks. Yes, you could end up better off by choosing something else; but you have to play the odds, and stocks give you the best odds.
You will have setbacks at some point, either small or large. Everyone does. You can’t plan for what they will be, but you can plan to have resources available to deal with them.
Hey, maybe you should even buy life insurance, just in case you really do die tomorrow. You probably won’t—but somebody will, and doesn’t know it yet.