Digital Anesthesia

Building on my previous reflection, The Legacy of Our Generation, I would like to reflect today on something we all experience: how we have become accustomed to numbing our own inner lives through technology. We are constantly connected, yet increasingly absent. Our escape into screens weakens our relationships, reshapes our inner world, and opens the door to a comfortable dependence on systems that we ourselves have created.

In the previous article, I deliberately used the sentence: “We taught machines to think, but untaught humans to feel.” It is a powerful statement, though the word think should, of course, be understood metaphorically, and humanity has certainly not lost its ability to feel. Yet we are living in an era in which experiencing emotions and building genuine relationships require far more conscious effort than before. Technology offers us shortcuts that are simply too convenient.

Whenever we feel discomfort, sadness, or even ordinary boredom, we instinctively reach for our phones. We rarely allow ourselves even a brief moment of awakening to what is happening within us. Through this habit, we drown out deeper and often unpleasant emotions instead of processing them. Gradually, we lose the ability to be alone with ourselves, with our thoughts and feelings. It is as if a fear of pain, or perhaps a fear of silence, is quietly growing within us.

The paradox of our age is that while we are more connected to the world than ever before, many of us have never felt so alone. Text messages replace eye contact and the tone of a human voice. In online communication, we also engage our mirror neurons far less, even though they are essential to empathy. Instead of developing empathy, we may be quietly losing it. Rates of depression among young people continue to rise, while the ability to sustain attention steadily declines.

And then there is something as simple as common courtesy. If I am sitting down for lunch with my partner, friends, family, or colleagues, yet spend the entire time staring at a screen instead of paying attention to them, it is an act of disrespect. This is not a trivial detail. It is a clear sign that the digital world has been given priority over the real one. We have more experiences than ever before, yet their inner depth often disappears. We have begun measuring everything: our steps, calories, likes, productivity, and sleep cycles. We optimize for performance while pure joy quietly retreats into the background.

We are on vacation, watching a magnificent sunset, but instead of simply experiencing it, we record a video and rush to post it on social media, eager to receive another small dopamine rush from likes and reactions. Look where I am. Look what I'm doing. Isn't it amazing? We are no longer living the moment itself, but the version of it we present to others. And in doing so, we are impoverishing ourselves in ways we hardly notice.

Of course, technology does not only take emotions away. It can also help us share them. A video call with family on the other side of the world is a perfect example. The problem is therefore not the smartphone itself, but the degree to which we rely on it and the way we choose to use it. The same can be said about the rise of artificial intelligence. Refusing to use AI wisely would be naive. It is already proving valuable in data analysis, medical diagnostics, drug discovery, and education. When we ask the right questions, it can even lead us toward deeper reflection and understanding.

But.

Because AI surpasses human capabilities in many areas and continues to improve, it may eventually perform surgeries, manage cities, assist judicial processes, and oversee the distribution of water and electricity. It will appear neutral, reliable, and tireless. And that is precisely where the greatest risk lies. For the sake of convenience, we may gradually hand over so many responsibilities that we begin to lose the ability to govern our own society. We could become vulnerable and entirely dependent on systems that control our critical infrastructure.

Who will define their standards and values? What happens if such tools are used for surveillance or for shaping public opinion by suppressing inconvenient voices, much as social media platforms already influence public discourse today? Some may consider these questions premature. Yet history has repeatedly shown that underestimating humanity's attraction to convenience, or its ability to misuse any invention, has proven fatal time and again.