The future of architecture in Harari’s Dataism
I recently re-reading Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens and Homo Deus, and have been thinking about the leap he makes between the two books. From his first book where he likens all life as bio‑chemical algorithms, he speculates of a future of super‑intelligent digital programmes eclipsing us as data‑processors. While Harari admits that reducing life to data flows can’t explain consciousness, he argues that humans will become valued for the data we generate for the new digital networks. After finishing his last chapter, I asked myself: if this is the case, what happens to architecture—as an object and a creative practice?
Two Possible Futures for Architecture
Harari’s vision points to two very different paths. On one hand, we might de-centre ourselves from an anthropocentric worldview and cultivate genuine care for other species and ecosystems. In that future, architects might expand their focus to design with multispecies welfare in mind. In this case, knowing the natural world through human and mechanical observation becomes as important as designing material objects.
On the other hand, we risk being displaced by algorithms whose superior data‑crunching relegates us to the role of data suppliers. While there is an interesting space of data curation to create ethicly non-biased systems, if left to pure pattern recognition buildings cease to be shelters or places of social interaction; they become instruments for continuous measurement.
I personally lean towards the first scenario—technology has no intentions without consciousness, and we can choose to deploy it in service of ecological care rather than exploitation.
Algorithms, Agency and Material Interfaces
Algorithms lack intrinsic agency: they can’t pick up a hammer or pour concrete. Their influence is exerted through information feedback and the affordances of sensors, interfaces and fabrication tools. I argue that data is not just one thing, it has different identities, it is used to observe as much as it is to forecast or instruct, and it never exist outside of a cultural framework. Until algorithms master both digital logic and physical fabrication, they’ll rely on humans to translate their outputs into material form.
The real threat isn’t a robot uprising but the subtle manipulation of human behaviour via information. Propaganda taught us long ago that we’re easily swayed; in today’s “post‑truth” era, we can’t even tell if a message originates from a human or a machine. Algorithms already help elect unlikely leaders, fuel conspiracy‑driven panic and nudge us in public spaces. It’s our own psychological vulnerabilities they exploit.
Architecture as Data Infrastructure
So what’s left for architects? If the built environment becomes a data‑production machine, our role shifts from designing for human needs to orchestrating data flows. We’ll need to rethink every stage of our knowledge system:
- Observation: What sensors should we embed? How do we account for data bias—whether it’s human‑collected or machine‑captured?
- Forecasting: How do we translate algorithmic analyses into spatial and material proposals, without losing sight of ecological and social values?
- Instruction: How do we communicate those proposals—via drawings, digital fabrication code or on‑site assembly guides—so that humans, not just machines, remain active participants?
Look at Sidewalk Labs’ failed Quayside project in Toronto: flexible construction systems and zoning rules driven by algorithms promised higher returns and “happiness” metrics. But happiness isn’t just a data point—it’s a lived experience that resists quantification.
Harari’s data‑ism forces us to confront architecture’s future: will we serve algorithms, or will we harness data to deepen our care for the living world? By critically examining data’s origins, identities and material paths, we can ensure that our designs reflect human and ecological values—not merely the desires of unseen programmes.