Imagine, for a moment, that you’re an archaeologist in the year 2125, carefully sifting through the remnants of early 21st-century civilisation to discover a troubling question: How did a species that mastered global connection become more isolated than any civilisation before it?
As you dust off these artefacts, a strange picture begins to form. In their drive to connect, the people of this time created systems that minimised the need for human interaction. In their attempt to optimise for convenience, speed and efficiency, they eliminated the very thing that made life meaningful – human connection.
It’s almost like discovering that an ancient civilisation designed the most sophisticated irrigation system ever created, only to die of thirst because they forgot to drink the water. They solved one problem, only to create another, bigger one.
Consider the self-checkout machine, an invention that future archaeologists will likely find fascinating. For generations, buying groceries required a brief, human exchange. You made eye contact, maybe shared a quick word about the weather. The self-checkout machine, while solving the problem of waiting in line, quietly removed one of the last guaranteed human interactions in daily life.
Similarly, while food delivery apps solved the inconvenience of having to go out to get food, they also removed the chance encounters that happened when you walked to the store, stood in line at the café or sat at the counter of your local diner. We traded convenience for serendipity — the random conversations with strangers.
Once, going to the movies or visiting a video rental store required you to be around other people, even if you didn’t speak to them. You stood in line, you saw what others were choosing, and, even if you didn’t interact, you shared the same cultural moment. Streaming gave us infinite access to content, but we watch it alone, in separate bubbles, without the shared experiences that used to make us feel part of something larger.
The pattern is clear: humans became extraordinarily good at solving individual inconveniences, but they weren’t very good at predicting the broader social consequences. Each new convenience made perfect sense on its own, but in combination, they created a world where human connection became optional.
Before carrying it forward, I want to take you to an open house in a public university last week, where various university departments showcased their models. What intrigued me most was the Department of Natural Science and Humanities, which showcased a ceramic vase, pure white and smooth, standing quietly among the other exhibits. The vase, elegant in its minimalism, held a cluster of delicate pink flowers, their petals soft and velvety, hinting at the beauty of nature amidst the otherwise tech-heavy atmosphere.
The flowers looked fragile but vibrant, their gentle hues offering a moment of calm against the otherwise busy and sterile environment. On inquiring, it turned out that the students in their department learn more than making machines: art, culture, literature and communication. They view the world through the lens of William Shakespeare and John Keats, guiding the curious minds of students to explore the profound messages Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of the beloved The Little Prince, sought to convey in his timeless masterpiece. They also delve into the intimate letters Franz Kafka wrote to Milena in the 20th century, offering students a deeper understanding of his personal reflections and literary insights.
Perhaps to them, the roses symbolise the beauty that resides in the hearts of writers, artists and storytellers – the essence of human creativity. In 2125, archaeologists would undoubtedly find it ironic that a civilisation once full of such artistry relegated ‘art’ to machines.
None of these changes was inherently bad. They solved real problems and brought tangible benefits. But the issue lies in our tendency to prioritise individual convenience without considering the social consequences. Humans are inherently social beings, and we thrive on regular, meaningful interactions. Yet, we’ve gradually designed these interactions out of our daily lives.
The real question is: What connections will you choose to prioritise today?
