The belief in constant, linear technological progress shapes our expectations but distorts reality. Technology evolves through cycles, crises, setbacks, and human choices-not in a straight, predictable line. Understanding this non-linear path helps us make wiser decisions and adapt to real-world challenges.
The myth of linear technological progress suggests that technology advances along a straight, ever-upward path. New devices are faster than the old, algorithms more precise than prior versions, and the future appears to be a logical, improved continuation of the present. This idea is so familiar that it's rarely questioned. Progress is perceived as a natural and inevitable process that simply "moves forward."
The roots of linear thinking about progress trace back to the Industrial Revolution, when increasing productivity, mechanization, and widespread adoption of machines created a sense of continuous improvement. Steam engines, electricity, assembly lines, and automation formed a visible chain: each new technology clearly surpassed the previous one.
By the 20th century, this model was reinforced through charts and metrics. Production grew, speeds increased, and costs fell. Empirical laws and rules-like the doubling of performance or miniaturization of components-fueled the illusion of predictability. Progress began to look like a managed process, following clear trends.
Mass consumer culture played an additional role. Marketing and the innovation industry actively promoted the idea of constant improvement. Every new generation of devices was presented as a necessary step forward, even when the changes were minor. Linear progress became part of the economic model, not just a philosophical concept.
Over time, this idea spread beyond technology, becoming a universal law of civilization's development. If a technology is "newer," it's assumed to be better. If a solution is old, it's labeled outdated. This logic is rarely questioned, even though engineering history often contradicts it.
Looking past advertising narratives and examining the actual history of technology reveals that development is rarely even. Rather than a smooth line, we see leaps, pauses, setbacks, and dead ends. This is because technology depends not only on ideas, but also on context: economic, social, scientific, and even cultural.
As a result, technology advances along a complex trajectory, with frequent stops and returns. Realizing this helps reframe both past failures and future expectations.
One of the clearest refutations of the linear myth is the cyclical nature of technology. Ideas once considered obsolete or unpromising regularly return as context shifts. They are perceived as new, though their underlying principles were known decades before.
This happens because technology rarely "dies" forever-it's often just temporarily irrelevant. There may be a lack of materials, computing power, infrastructure, or economic rationale. When these conditions change, the old idea is reborn.
Consider computing history: centralized computing centers gave way to personal computers, then the idea of remote computing returned as cloud services. The concept is not new-only the means and scale have changed. The same is true for thin clients, virtualization, neural networks, and even processor architectures.
Cycles are also evident in consumer tech. Mechanical buttons return after touchscreens, local data storage gains value after widespread cloud adoption, and wired connections periodically displace wireless when stability and latency matter. These "returns" are course corrections, not regressions.
Importantly, cycles don't mean a lack of progress. Each turn brings accumulated experience, mistakes, and improvements. Technology returns in a more mature, adapted form. But the fact of repetition undermines the idea of progress as a one-way line.
Technological crises are often viewed as failures, but they're usually the real catalysts for development. When existing solutions stop working, the linear logic of "incremental improvement" breaks down, forcing the system to seek fundamentally new approaches.
A crisis arises when technology hits its limits. Growth slows, costs rise, and complexity ceases to pay off. At this point, incremental progress stalls. Many "golden ages" of technology end this way, despite outward stability.
History shows that most breakthroughs occur not during smooth growth, but after extended stagnation. When improvements are only cosmetic and problems become systemic, alternatives can emerge. Old ideas are reimagined, new ones get their chance because previous approaches no longer suffice.
Crises also filter technologies. With limited resources, survival favors solutions that get the job done-not the trendiest or most complex. Many once-promising directions disappear, making way for more sustainable approaches.
From a linear perspective, a crisis looks like a step back. But in reality, it's a reset of the trajectory. Without such phases, development devolves into endless optimization that eventually hits a dead end.
Part of what makes the myth of linear progress so persistent is the belief that all limits are temporary. If technology hits a barrier, it's assumed to be just a matter of time, investment, or computing power. In reality, many constraints are fundamental and can't be overcome by mere development.
Recognizing limits doesn't mean giving up. On the contrary, it allows for a realistic assessment of where incremental improvements are pointless and where a qualitative shift is needed. Ignoring these boundaries makes the linear model especially misleading.
The myth of linear progress is closely tied to technological determinism-the belief that technology alone shapes history, the economy, and society. In this view, new tools automatically make life better, and the future "flows" from technical capabilities. Human factors, culture, and choices are secondary.
The main error here is confusing cause and effect. Technologies don't arise in a vacuum or evolve on their own. They're created in response to social demands, economic conditions, and political decisions. The same technology can produce radically different results depending on how it's used.
Determinism also ignores the fact that most technologies are used in ways their creators never imagined. Their real impact emerges from practice, not theory. Frequently, side effects become more significant than original aims, and "progressive" solutions generate new problems.
Another mistake is believing in inevitability. If progress is seen as automatic, responsibility for outcomes disappears. Decisions are made under the assumption that "it will happen anyway," when in fact every technological direction reflects choices, compromises, and priorities. The linear model is appealing precisely because it sidesteps responsibility.
Rejecting technological determinism enables us to see development as a process of selection, not destiny. The future isn't preordained-it's shaped at moments of choice, crisis, and reevaluation. And it's here that the myth of linear progress truly falls apart.
One of the most uncomfortable truths for the linear progress model is that "new" doesn't always mean "better." History is filled with cases where older solutions proved more reliable, understandable, and effective than modern replacements.
Abandoning the idea of linear progress reveals a different picture of technological evolution. It's not a straight line or neat staircase, but a branching system of selections, setbacks, and returns. Development occurs through the competition of solutions, where survivors aren't the newest or most powerful, but those best suited to current conditions.
Every technology experiences birth, growth, saturation, and crisis. Growth may feel rapid, but eventually limits-physical, economic, or human-are reached. At this point, a qualitative shift may occur, or the technology is gradually displaced by alternatives. This isn't straightforward progress but a series of transitions between trajectories.
Technological evolution is also irreversibly selective. Most ideas never go mainstream. They disappear not because they were "bad," but because they lost out in a specific historical context. Sometimes, these ideas return in a transformed form when conditions change.
Such a process is hard to predict. The future emerges not directly from current trends, but from unexpected combinations of factors. That's why extrapolating today's successes far into tomorrow often leads to mistakes.
Understanding this nonlinear logic offers a more sober view of technology. Progress exists, but it is neither guaranteed nor uniform. It requires choices, experimentation, and a willingness to abandon familiar models. This-not endless acceleration-is its true nature.
The myth of linear technological progress is convenient, but it distorts reality. It creates expectations of continuous improvement and obscures the roles of crises, limitations, and human choice. The history of technology shows that development advances in leaps, through mistakes and reversals, not along a straight path.
Rejecting the linear model isn't pessimism. On the contrary, it enables us to approach the future more consciously, understand risks, and value resilient solutions. Progress isn't predetermined or automatic-it is shaped at turning points, when old approaches stop working and new ones are not yet obvious.
It is precisely in these uncertain zones that technologies capable of truly changing the world are born.