Longtermism, as framed in the Effective Altruism community, deeply worries me because it feels too confined to that intellectual circle and risks being detached from reality. If it is to have genuine value, it must be applicable beyond this space—not just as a lofty ideal, but as something that speaks to and engages with the real world.
My concern is that longtermism, in its current practice, often seems to prioritize the good of the distant future in isolation from the urgent needs of the present. This separation fills me with anxiety. The future cannot be secured while ignoring the present, because the present is the launchpad for whatever comes ahead. To shut our eyes and ears to today’s pressing calls is to weaken the very foundation on which the future depends.
Longtermism must not work in isolation. It must engage the present, test its ideas in communities, and prove its relevance here and now before projecting them forward. Otherwise, it risks becoming a paralyzing concept —frozen in speculation while real people struggle. How can we dash into the future while leaving today’s crises unresolved?
This concern weighs even more heavily when I think of the Global South. These regions already carry enormous burdens—poverty, unemployment, food insecurity, fragile infrastructure. For them, an abstract future-focused framework that sidelines the present may not just be irrelevant but counterproductive. Unless longtermism learns to work in two time zones at once—the present and the future—its interventions may harm rather than help.
I think your concern strikes at something many of us within and around the longtermist community have been reflecting on. I share the worry that longtermism can sound detached or even abstract when it’s presented purely as a philosophical ideal rather than as something that must earn its relevance through present-day impact.
But I don’t think that the tension between “present” and “future” is an unavoidable flaw. In fact, part of my motivation for writing this essay was to show that the two are deeply connected, especially in contexts like the Global South, where long-term risks and present-day vulnerabilities are intertwined.
For example, when we talk about building institutional readiness for AI, we’re not talking about ignoring current crises. We’re talking about strengthening the very institutions that can address them, improving education, governance, foresight, and inclusion. These are present actions that both reduce near-term harms and make our societies more resilient to long-term risks.
In that sense, I see longtermism not as an escape from the present, but as an invitation to act more wisely within it. The idea is not to postpone compassion or justice for the sake of distant futures, but to ensure that today’s solutions don’t mortgage tomorrow’s possibilities.
I completely agree that longtermism must prove its worth “in two time zones at once.” For those of us in the Global South, that dual engagement isn’t optional, it’s survival. We can’t talk about safeguarding the year 2500 if we can’t feed, educate, or protect people in 2025. But neither can we afford to build only for 2025 if the systems we create are brittle, exclusionary, or unprepared for transformative change.
Longtermism, as framed in the Effective Altruism community, deeply worries me because it feels too confined to that intellectual circle and risks being detached from reality. If it is to have genuine value, it must be applicable beyond this space—not just as a lofty ideal, but as something that speaks to and engages with the real world.
My concern is that longtermism, in its current practice, often seems to prioritize the good of the distant future in isolation from the urgent needs of the present. This separation fills me with anxiety. The future cannot be secured while ignoring the present, because the present is the launchpad for whatever comes ahead. To shut our eyes and ears to today’s pressing calls is to weaken the very foundation on which the future depends.
Longtermism must not work in isolation. It must engage the present, test its ideas in communities, and prove its relevance here and now before projecting them forward. Otherwise, it risks becoming a paralyzing concept —frozen in speculation while real people struggle. How can we dash into the future while leaving today’s crises unresolved?
This concern weighs even more heavily when I think of the Global South. These regions already carry enormous burdens—poverty, unemployment, food insecurity, fragile infrastructure. For them, an abstract future-focused framework that sidelines the present may not just be irrelevant but counterproductive. Unless longtermism learns to work in two time zones at once—the present and the future—its interventions may harm rather than help.
Thank you for raising this
I think your concern strikes at something many of us within and around the longtermist community have been reflecting on. I share the worry that longtermism can sound detached or even abstract when it’s presented purely as a philosophical ideal rather than as something that must earn its relevance through present-day impact.
But I don’t think that the tension between “present” and “future” is an unavoidable flaw. In fact, part of my motivation for writing this essay was to show that the two are deeply connected, especially in contexts like the Global South, where long-term risks and present-day vulnerabilities are intertwined.
For example, when we talk about building institutional readiness for AI, we’re not talking about ignoring current crises. We’re talking about strengthening the very institutions that can address them, improving education, governance, foresight, and inclusion. These are present actions that both reduce near-term harms and make our societies more resilient to long-term risks.
In that sense, I see longtermism not as an escape from the present, but as an invitation to act more wisely within it. The idea is not to postpone compassion or justice for the sake of distant futures, but to ensure that today’s solutions don’t mortgage tomorrow’s possibilities.
I completely agree that longtermism must prove its worth “in two time zones at once.” For those of us in the Global South, that dual engagement isn’t optional, it’s survival. We can’t talk about safeguarding the year 2500 if we can’t feed, educate, or protect people in 2025. But neither can we afford to build only for 2025 if the systems we create are brittle, exclusionary, or unprepared for transformative change.