The moment I entered the Samcheong Park Library in Seoul, I saw the future. The simple building had a nice selection of books and a cafe where readers could enjoy coffee while gazing at the leaves outside. It was specifically designed without any latest technology.

“What's so innovative about that?” a librarian in Toronto asked when I showed her pictures. Innovation to her meant digital technology, like 3D printers. “Why couldn't they both be innovative?” I asked.

We are constantly told that innovation is the most important force in our economy, without which we would be left behind. But that fear of missing out has led us to fall into the false trappings of innovation over truly innovative ideas that may be simpler and more effective. This mindset implies that if you just buy the new thing, you have innovated! Each year, businesses and individuals run around like broken toy robots, trying to figure out their strategy for the latest buzzword equipment.

At best, this is a waste of resource. Devices are bought, used and abandoned, as the technology's capabilities fall short of its promise. But at its worst, this approach can truly cause damage. Schools cut field trips to purchase tablets with few proven benefits. Companies that applied A. I. into hiring have strengthened gender and racial prejudices.

True innovation isn't just some magic devices. It is a continuing process of reflection and reassessment, which often means adopting “old" ideas and tools in a new context, or even returning to methods that worked in the past. Adjusted properly, these rearview innovations have proved as transformative as novel technologies.

Look no farther than the streets of New York, which have been redesigned recently to accommodate cyclists with car-free zones. The idea isn't new. It was created half a century ago, with the aim of bringing cities back to their residents. And while e-reader sales have been exploding, Penguin just announced it would publish tiny printed books, an ideal solution for a market demanding both convenience and physicality.

At one time or another in your life you have probably done origami, even if it was just making a paper airplane or something more complicated like a paper crane. The chances are that as you did it, you reflected on how inventive this traditional art is. Animals, boxes, flowers, boats: it all can be created from a single square or rectangular sheet of paper simply by folding it. No cutting, no pasting.

But did you ever stop to think how the same techniques might be applied to engineering? Equipment that could be of real practical use? Origami meets the demand for things that need to be small when transported and large when they arrive, like the everyday umbrella. In fact, origami-inspired creations have already flown in space; in 1995, Japanese engineers launched a satellite with solar panels that folded like a map.

“It’s now mathematically proven that you can pretty much fold anything,” says physicist Robert J. Lang, who quit his engineering job eight years ago to fold things full time. Lang, an origami enthusiast since age six, advised a advised well-known ear manufacturer the best way to fold an airbag into a dashboard. He is currently working on a space telescope lens that, if all goes according to plan, should be able to unfold to the size of a football field.

At the other end of the scale, researchers are also working on tiny folding devices that could lead to breakthroughs in medicine and computing. There’s no doubt that computers of the future may contain tiny, folded motors or capacitors for faster processing and better memory.

Applications for origami engineering go further than many of us might imagine. “Some day,” says MIT’s Erik Demaine, “we’ll build reconfigurable (可重构的) robots that can fold on their own from one thing into another, like Transformers. Too much like science fiction to be true? Maybe—though you certainly wouldn’t want to bet against it.”

In the flood of innovative solutions that have emerged in the last several years to save the world from plastic pollution, Tom Szaky's fix may be one of the most imaginations. Szaky has gone back to returnable, refillable containers. The idea was introduced to the world by Coca-Cola in the early 1920s, when Coke was sold in expensive glass bottles that the company's bottlers needed back. They charged a two-cent deposit, roughly 40 percent of the full cost of the soft drink. Consequently, they got about 98 percent of their bottles back, to be reused 40 or 50 times.

Ten months ago, Szaky launched Loop, an online delivery service that uses reusable containers. The bold part of his venture—or risk, if you are one of his financial backers—is that Loop pushes far beyond the uniformity(统一性)of returnable beverage bottles(饮料瓶)and sells more than 300 items, from food to laundry items, in containers of various sizes and made from various materials. His signature product is Haagen-Dazs ice cream that comes packed inside a smooth, insulated stainless steel guaranteed to prevent its contents from melting.

Now 38, Szaky dropped out of Princeton 17 years ago to become an innovator in the garbage business. He founded TerraCycle, a small waste management company, 10 miles from the Princeton campus. He figured out a way to recycle plastics, cigarette butts and a long list of other non-recyclables.

Loop is part of the resurgence of refillables as a serious option to plastic waste. The beverage industry is expanding its use of returnable bottles; an Oregon brewery claims to have started the United States' first state-wide refillable beer system. More significantly, efforts like Loop's to reinvent packaging for products that don't fit easily into the refillable category have attracted startups and some of the world's largest corporate players.