Inundated with relentless media stimuli, we live in a world where there’s no longer space for chance encounters, luck or the hand of providence.
Constantly locked in our screens the virtual world blends into our perception of reality, with the popular phrase “I was just thinking about that” often heard in social circles followed by someone explaining how an ad or post eerily resembles a private thought.
It often feels like a sign from the universe, but it’s really just a signal from an algorithm trained to know us better than we know our unconscious habits.
Although institutions have largely replaced religion in policymaking, the centralised power of governments — whether in raising VAT or tariffs — negatively affects already precarious standards of living.
The individual feels increasingly powerless in the face of both geopolitical tensions, ever shifting trade, state bureaucracy and bespoke corporate marketing.
Whether online for social media or remote work, many experience chronic anxiety and stress by being perpetually logged in.
Technology designed to connect and improve productivity ends up leaving people isolated and digitally overstimulated, which overrides the brain’s natural ability to rest, process and wonder.
For many, dopamine-related impulses have rewired their brains’ reward system from faith-based gatherings and everyday human interaction to impersonal communities on the internet.
What once came from moments of intimacy, spirituality, or shared joy is now siphoned into likes, follows and videos that go viral, creating a sense that what is deeply human and divine is slipping away.
Some people feel the world has become unsafe and detach themselves from society’s ever changing news, trends and events while others try to keep up and burn out in the process.
The overload of information, combined with the erosion of trust in traditional media and institutions, means even our intuition is now clouded by cynicism and overexposure.
The gains of technological advancement have also meant that our lives are becoming more convenient but less spontaneous.
GPS navigation has replaced the need to ask a stranger for directions, meal delivery apps eliminate the necessity of leaving the house, and automated playlists remove the thrill of stumbling upon a new favourite song on the radio.
Life’s most memorable experiences were once unplanned and would unlock the imagination whereas now even our leisure time must be optimised.
Calendar apps organise social time, notifications alert us to trends we should care about and reminders ping us out of moments of refreshing randomness.
Unexplained coincidences used to be seen as signs of a mysterious force guiding life’s events from the divine or ancestors but are now rationalised, tracked and reduced to data points.
The digital age’s lack of mystery means every outcome can be predicted by a behavioural model proliferating feelings of depression or lack of willpower.
For younger generations raised on the internet, serendipity may seem foreign having never experienced life without algorithmic curation.
Friendships are formed on online platforms instead of the playground, which limits personal growth and encounters with the unknown, unpredictable, and sublime.
The tools that claim to open the world to us are also shrinking our need for exploration, lowering feelings of fulfillment.
The algorithm makes us see what we want to see and regurgitates worldviews that align with our assumptions. The internet has become a personalised echo chamber that excludes anything that challenges our perspectives.
Although the separation of state and religion is a done deal its symbolic weight lent moral authority to policy making decisions and its narratives helped individuals make sense of their place in society.
Secular governance promised rationality, progress, and even neutrality yet institutions like parliaments, universities and courts have become bureaucratic and volatile to populist takeover.
Algorithmic determinism replaced divine will and similar to ancient omens they dictate policy outcomes without genuine public input.
The problem is not that we abandoned religion in governance, but that the institutions that replaced it no longer inspire awe, imagination, or trust.
Without a sense of shared mystery or higher purpose, governance becomes mechanical and policy making becomes a spreadsheet exercise, not a reflection of collective dreams or fears.
When we no longer believe that the world can surprise us with beauty, truth, or justice, we become cynical and assume everything is manipulated or a conspiracy — from election results to viral videos to personal relationships.
The line between truth and fiction blurs when human experience is always curated, tracked, and quantified.
To protect our sense of serendipity, the technology that runs institutions and makes our lives more efficient must be reformed, not to return to superstition, but to restore meaning and purpose in our lives.
The antidote to algorithmic determinism should not be a rejection of technology, but a revision of our relationship with the internet of things and a reimagining of our institutions.
We need systems that do not preclude serendipity and experience but support conditions that do not limit the full spectrum of holistic health.
Although traditions and religion are more popular among conservatives, they emphasised community gathering in churches and mosques, in temples and at ceremonies — a societal value worth protecting.
