The IFIP IP3 Global Industry Council (GIC) serves as the principal forum for employers and educators to engage with IP3 and shape the global ICT profession. Each month, they feature relevant and insightful ideas in IFIP Insights. This month, GIC director Josine Overdevest reflects on the uncertain territories of our AI future, drawing parallels between ancient cartography and modern technology navigation. Through the lens of Johannesburg’s vibrant literary culture, she explores how we might approach technological advancement with both critical thinking and a sense of wonder.

Recently, I visited Bridge Books, the bookstore at the heart of the Johannesburg Literary District, an organisation close to my heart that celebrates Joburg’s inner city book culture. On this occasion, they launched the physical map of the LitDistrict pinpointing the 71 booksellers that can be found in three square kilometres that encompass the district. 

I often walk these streets and find it is fascinating that, in what many consider a dangerous part of town, you will find religious and self-help books as well as crime and romance novels stacked high in the most unexpected places, not just at sidewalk stalls, but also in corner cafes and on the shelves in one of the many hair salons. It is a thriving scene, despite the worrying statistics around literacy and reading in South Africa.

The LitDistrict map will be printed and posted at various locations, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many people these days are able to read a map. Do young people still learn how to find their way without a voice from their phone guiding them? Do they know the joy of doing so? 

I remember the quiet triumph of reaching a destination with only a crumpled roadmap in my lap. These days, I mostly take Ubers, but sometimes check the route beforehand—after finding myself redirecting confused drivers through unfamiliar neighbourhoods when the network connection failed once too often. 

This isn’t just about map-reading. We all see how generative AI is advancing at a tremendous pace and redrawing the lines between what’s human and what is machine. What do we stand to gain? What might we lose—and at what cost? Sometimes, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of the unknown, searching for direction. I have this image in mind of the maps that ancient cartographers drew where areas still unfamiliar to them simply stated: “here be dragons”.

I’m excited about the promise of human evolution that AI holds, encouraging us to stretch parts of our brains and capabilities in ways we have yet to explore, and creating new ways of human-machine collaboration. My AI companion Claude recently refused to write a piece for me, insisting that, based on our past conversations, I should do it myself. Amazing that an AI tool pushed me to rely on my own writing and judgement rather than replacing it.

But I also see that it holds the risk of “dumbing us down”, making us passive, dulling the very skills that make us human. Do we risk losing our sense of identity, our problem-solving abilities, our sense of accomplishment if we don’t stay alert, question, and learn how to work with it? Are we taking away our own joy? 

I am increasingly concerned about the Digital Divide; I find it difficult to engage in ambitious debates about AI in education while my daily experience tells me that in both urban and rural schools, teachers and learners still struggle to charge a device, connect to a network, or access and work a digital platform. How do we expect young people to collaborate with AI when many still lack access to the most basic digital tools?

And then there’s the climate crisis—an existential threat that AI’s exponential growth is fuelling with its vast energy, water and mineral resource demands. If power grids fail, if the infrastructure we rely on crumbles – and these are events we are becoming familiar with in Joburg – will we still know how to function? And what about the shifting geopolitical landscape? With most AI advancements controlled by a handful of tech giants, what happens if access is suddenly restricted or switched off?

These are some of the uncharted territories I see on the map, where dangerous dragons may await, or perhaps they will turn out to be unicorns, full of magical possibilities. 

With or without AI, the question remains: How do we navigate this world of uncertainty? Going back to those ancient cartographers, perhaps we need to embrace their wisdom and acknowledge the uncertainty. They simply drew only what they knew, leaving the rest of the map empty. What if we approached our AI future in the same way? If we bring our most human qualities—an exploring mind, critical thinking, boundless curiosity and our ability to create and connect with others—we could venture into these uncharted territories together, filling in the empty spaces as we discover them, one step at a time

After thinking about maps and dragons all day, I decided to stretch my legs and walk to Bridge Books for some quiet book browsing. Instead, I was greeted by a shop buzzing with school children doing their homework, reading books and making puzzles. I don’t know if they had used a map to find the place, but looking at the fun they had, I realised a sense of joy and wonder is exactly what we need to bring on the journey.