Losing Our Humanity To A Chronically Online Culture

 For the first time in history, our culture has shifted into a new age defined by technology and a chronically online existence. You might expect that with newfound access to a variety of opinions and worldviews—and the ability to connect with people across the globe from the comfort of our couches—we would become more open-minded. However, the online space is increasingly claustrophobic, filled with an endless feed of content and competing voices.

With the recent rise of cancel culture, we face a new epidemic: if your ideas stray from the mainstream or the latest political narratives, you risk being silenced by an army of cancel culture advocates. This culture of speech policing brings unforeseen consequences, including the erosion of healthy debate and the ability to consider differing perspectives.

In the earliest days of human history, we learned from our elders, gathering around campfires to absorb the wisdom of our communities. In more recent times, before the surge of technology, we engaged in small talk with strangers at local cafés or during our commutes. Now, our attention is fixed on screens, as we rapidly type snide comments in response to videos, only for those remarks to get lost in an endless sea of content before they can make a real impact.

This shift has also altered what we value as a society. We now spend countless hours consuming mindless entertainment—trendy dances, cat videos, and superficial distractions—while becoming less capable of engaging in nuanced, intellectual conversations. We’ve created a surface-level society that prefers mindlessly scrolling through dating apps in search of the next best thing, rather than investing in genuine relationships. Our fear of vulnerability makes it easier to subscribe to platforms like OnlyFans, where a screen serves as a barrier, protecting us from forming real connections.

Will our generation look back and regret this? Will we mourn the time wasted mindlessly staring at screens instead of acknowledging and engaging with the beautiful world and people around us? Will we remember the lost art of storytelling and healthy debates as ways to connect deeply with others? Most importantly, when will real love and authentic connections become a priority again?

In our chronically online culture, we risk missing out on the real beauty of the world. We must remember the value of vulnerability and the importance of wearing our hearts on our sleeves. Without these elements, we miss out entirely on the full human experience, which is meant to be messy, vulnerable, and full of expression. What will be remembered of us if all we have to show for our lives is our latest TikTok video?