Whether through genetically modified foods, the mapping of the human genome or global climate change, technology and science are changing our lives, often much faster than we might like. Things are moving so fast that it is difficult to imagine our lives 20 years from now, let alone what's in store for our children.

In less than 30 years since the birth of the first test-tube baby, we have reached the point of confronting the ethics of human cloning, not as an abstract philosophical exercise, but as a social and political issue of immediate relevance. Most changes of this sort, and their effects on our lives, seem beyond our control and are caused by things most of us do not really understand. The average person had no control over the mapping of the human genome, and has little now over how insurance companies may use the new information on genetic diseases and predispositions.

Small wonder many people are distrustful of "technology" and the "future."

But should we fear the future? If we do, that fear will likely have two main sources: our lack of comprehension of new developments, and the speed at which they occur. Informed inquiry can help remedy the first. The success of serious but accessible science television programs, magazines and books by people such as Stephen Jay Gould ("Ever Since Darwin") Richard Dawkins ("The Selfish Gene"), Steven Pinker ("The Language Instinct") and Stephen Hawking ("A Brief History of Time") shows that many people are taking up the challenge.

One of the main reasons for our disorientation and surprise is, of course, the rate at which we're bombarded with something "new." Almost every day at my local supermarket, on TV, or in the newspaper, not to mention those annoying ads on the Internet, I am confronted with "new" products, "new" processes, "new" ways of doing things.

But, of course, there is a big difference between the real newness of a product or technology and its perceived newness. Too often the perception of newness comes from marketing rather than real change.

Marketing appears to have risen to its current prominence alongside the baby boomers. Nostalgic members of that generation, and even some of their offspring, may now wistfully idealize the "turn on, tune in, drop out" counterculture as the " '60s revolution." But advertising executives I have spoken to, themselves boomers, look back to the same period as a golden age. After all, for many rebellion meant consumption -- whether of music, fashion, hairstyles or, going where advertising could not, "controlled substances."

The true '60s revolution was the birth and consolidation of the first fully consumer society in history. In this, unintended though it may have been, the economic has become the measure of all things. The boomers have presided over the spread of economic thinking into previously unthought-of areas, such as the invention of pollution as a tradable commodity via pollution credits -- an innovation developed in concert with environmentalists for the laudable aim of "saving the Earth."

Mass goods need turnover, and the promotion of things as "new" is the time-tested approach of mass-marketing. The end result is an exaggerated perception of the real pace of change.

How does this work out in reality? Well, if you are like me, at first you might accept at face value the idea that with developments like the Internet, virtual reality, mobile/wireless and digital imaging, we are just barreling along on a supercharged engine of change. But a quick look back at the changes experienced by my grandparents' generation gives a different perspective.

When my grandmother was born, powered human flight was a dream; the technology did not exist. Yet she saw three separate flight technologies change the world: the propeller, the jet engine and the rocket. Long before she died, man walked on the moon. In fact, I remember watching the 1969 landing with her on TV -- itself not invented until she was well into adult life.

Changes great and small came continuously over her lifetime. She saw the advent of antibiotics, a revolution then, but one that has dissipated somewhat with their overuse. Born in a period when military officers still took their swords into battle, she eventually saw the appearance of the atomic and hydrogen bombs and lived the rest of her days under the Cold War's balance of nuclear terror, so aptly acronymed as MAD (mutually assured destruction).

In everyday life, my grandmother also saw the horse and carriage give way to the bicycle and motor car, electricity come into the home and the rise of skyscrapers, transistors and satellites. And although their transformation into consumer goods came later, the computer and the silicon chip were both in use during her lifetime.

She missed out on the fax machine, but having seen the introduction of the telephone I doubt that would have fazed her. Similarly, I am sure she would have taken the VCR in her stride as a TV add-on.

Put all that together, and the hallmark experience of my generation, the so-called information revolution, looks derivative and tame in comparison. Though the new genetics promises a real revolution, rather than truly revolutionary information technologies, we are instead presented with repackaged adaptations of existing technologies.

So, should we fear the future? Not if the fear comes down to not understanding the new developments or their speed. Lack of understanding can be overcome by information, from television, magazines and books, even from the Internet (though here we need to be a bit more careful that the "information" is actually reliable).

Speed disorientation can be overcome by differentiating between perceived and actual change and critically examining the claim that something is "new." This will not stop the economic system from demanding demand, but its consequences can be very powerful. If we react a bit more skeptically to the "new" pitch, the marketers and advertisers may be forced to come up with a different idea in order to get under our radar.

Now that really would be something new.