We live in a world shaped by human influence. Most of what we consume, whether animal or plant, did not originally exist in nature; it is the result of genetic modifications made over thousands of years. The creation of artificial objects, both tangible and intangible, reflects our identity as a species. The artificial is our true nature.
A few months ago, I was interviewed by a journalist about innovation and its importance for business and society. The interview went well, and she thanked me at the end, adding, “I don’t really share your opinion, you know.” Intrigued, I asked her to elaborate. She responded, “With innovation, we’re going too fast. We’re moving away from nature. Does that make us happy? I don’t think so.”
Her comment likely reflected a very old mental model: the concept of the Fall. This model suggests that humans once lived in harmony with nature but have gradually distanced themselves through art and industry, creating an artificial world where they feel lost and unhappy. This notion has roots in the reaction to the Industrial Revolution, particularly through the Romantic movement, which vehemently opposed technological progress as dehumanizing. It contrasts the artificial, deemed harmful and contrary to our nature, with the natural, considered good. This perspective assumes that the artificial is inhuman and the result of uncontrolled deviation. But what if, instead, the artificial is a true expression of what makes us human?
There’s no doubt we live in a largely artificial world. As you read this article on your phone, tablet, or computer, in a chair or armchair, in a house, building, or train, you are surrounded by artificial objects. Even things that seem natural, like a field of cultivated wheat, are artificial; wheat itself is a human creation. None of the fruits and vegetables we consume existed in nature as we know them. Whether a peasant in Larzac or an organic farmer, their world is as artificial as that of a cereal farmer in Beauce, all equally foreign to our ancestors.
But it’s not just tangible objects that are artificial. We have created intangible constructs: organizations, groups, governments, contracts, markets. These are social artifacts existing only in our minds, based on shared mental models. A 20-euro bill, for example, is a social artifact. Beyond the paper it’s printed on, its value rests on a collective belief. As Yuval Harari notes in Sapiens, this ability to share mental models is uniquely human. Give a monkey a choice between a banana and a 20-euro bill, which could buy many bananas, and it will choose the banana: the mental model means nothing to it.
The shift to a service-based economy exemplifies this socially and cognitively constructed reality. Most employees today spend their days manipulating social artifacts, often just changing packets of bytes on a remote computer. The modern economy creates wealth out of artificial concepts, constructing artificial worlds based on shared mental models. If you think artificiality emerged with AI, think again.
Artificial is our nature.
Sapiens—our species—creates artifacts. Beyond Homo faber, who made physical objects, we create social artifacts. This ability distinguishes us from other species. Faced with uncertainty or danger, sapiens collaborates to form groups. Social artifacts are not merely survival tools; they express our essence.
Thus, contrary to what we might believe, creating an artificial world is profoundly human. Artificiality does not dehumanize us—at least, not necessarily. The question is not whether to choose between the natural and the artificial: our species has been resolving this false dichotomy since crafting the first tool millions of years ago. In other words, if it’s artificial, it’s natural.
🇫🇷 A version in French of this article is available here.
One thought on “What if the artificial was our true nature?”