It's progress. But is it better?

There is an assumption that because something is newer, it is better. But newer is not always smarter. More complex is not always more effective. And digital does not always mean dependable.

Progress and innovation do not move in a straight line. They don’t travel neatly from point A to point B. They are not linear. In fact, it often appears that progress is random; leaping forward in one area while stagnating or even regressing in another.

Humankind has evolved sufficiently to send men and women into space; they have walked on the Moon. Man-made craft have explored to the outer edges of our solar system. And yet there are vast stretches of the Earth’s oceans that remain unexplored. We are still documenting newly discovered animals and plants that have been right here under our very noses for millennia.

In the field of medicine, we can perform life-saving surgery on a baby that is still in its mother’s womb. We can transplant kidneys, lungs, livers, and even hearts from one patient to another. We have cured a multitude of deadly diseases. And yet, the common cold prevails.

We have evolved to become the dominant species on Earth. And yet, for all our supposed intelligence and brain power, we can’t stop a single wasp from ruining a picnic, a plague of locusts from destroying our crops, or mosquitoes from spreading deadly diseases and being the biggest killer on the planet.

And here in the field of demolition and construction equipment, we are, frankly, no better.

We have developed machines that can reach higher and dig deeper than anything our predecessors could have imagined. Machines that can lubricate themselves, fuel themselves, diagnose their own faults, and send a sick note to the nearest dealer, detailing exactly what is wrong and how to fix it.

We have machines that can be operated remotely by someone sitting thousands of miles away. We have machines that can dig holes, lay bricks, and pave roads; all without human hands touching the controls. With advances in electronics and machine control, we’ve reached a level of precision that would’ve seemed like magic just a generation ago.

And yet.

And yet our road paving and muck shifting activities are still very much at the mercy of the weather. A downpour, a frost, or an unexpected heatwave can still shut down an entire site.

We have yet to devise a telescopic handler, site dumper, or articulated hauler that isn’t perpetually teetering on the edge of tipping over.

We have yet to devise a safety system that can’t be overridden, bypassed, or ignored entirely by a determined operator.

We have yet to create a mini excavator or a skid steer loader that’s easy to get into, or an excavator that’s easy to get out of.

We’ve created sophisticated camera systems that allow operators to see in 360 degrees. Some machines even provide a bird’s-eye view, stitched together by software from multiple angles. And yet we still have machine cabs riddled with blind spots thanks to chunky columns, split windows, and 47 competing in-cab display screens shouting for attention like a cockpit designed by committee.

We’ve evolved from machines that virtually anyone with a spanner and some common sense could maintain to machines that only a fitter with a degree in nuclear physics and a sonic screwdriver can fix.

And let’s not even talk about parts availability where a broken sensor made in one small town in China can shut down an entire fleet of machines across the UK for weeks.

We call this progress. We pat ourselves on the back for our technological achievements. But progress in our industry is often lopsided progress. Cosmetic progress. It’s progress where convenience is sacrificed for complexity. Where safety is bolted on instead of built in.

The truth is, we confuse innovation with evolution. We assume that because something is newer, it is better. But newer is not always smarter. More complex is not always more effective. And digital does not always mean dependable.

There’s a lesson here; one that reaches beyond construction and demolition, beyond machinery and technology. It’s a lesson about human nature. We rush to conquer the skies before we’ve understood the soil beneath our feet. We celebrate the future while tripping over the flaws of the present. We worship progress but forget to ask: Progress for whom? Progress to what end?

Maybe, instead of marvelling at what our machines can do, it’s time we started fixing what they still can’t. Maybe real progress is not about the next machine, the next update, or the next app. Maybe real progress starts when we stop chasing what's possible and start focusing on what’s useful.

Until then, we’ll continue to build marvels on muddy ground; with fogged-up camera lenses, temperamental control panels, and operators wondering why a machine that can talk to space can’t just give them a decent cup holder.