Technology flattens our humanity. Artists deepen it. | Being in the World (Movie Clip)

Have you ever noticed that technology promises to make our lives easier, but in the process turns us into interchangeable parts? This is how Heidegger saw it: Today, we live in a world where everything is organized to be efficient, standardized, and optimized. It seems normal to us, but behind this normality lies a silent flattening of our experience: any real difference is removed, and only the logic of performance remains. The common belief is that technology empowers us, frees us from hard work, saves us time, and provides us with convenience. But the hidden cost is that we lose the skills that made us human. Instead of learning to cook, truly listening to music, or understanding the value of silence, we settle for pre-packaged versions that are always available and always the same. Everything becomes interchangeable: on Twitter, the news of a hundred war deaths appears alongside a photo of breakfast. Time itself becomes a resource to be squeezed out, available 24 hours a day, as if there were no longer any moments “outside the system.” We are convinced that this is progress, that complaining is old-fashioned. But that feeling of emptiness, that struggle to find something that truly matters, is not just nostalgia: it is a genuine signal. Take the history of jazz: when you listen to a live concert, the musicians respond to the audience, to the venue, to the other instruments, and even to unexpected events like a cell phone ringing. Recorded music, no matter how perfect, can never capture that living tension, that unique dialogue of the moment. Flamenco: Many artists refuse to be recorded because they feel that recording betrays the soul of the performance, which exists only in the here and now. There is also the story of a Japanese carpenter who, for a project, let the wood age for two years and then worked on it for 18 months. No machine would have allowed for such a long process, but the result is something truly unique. Or, again, those who cook for the community: preparing 20 gallons of gumbo at dawn is not just about providing food; it is about building bonds, giving meaning to time spent together. And it's not just a matter of nostalgia or folklore. Kierkegaard said that if all meaning comes only from you, then you can also take it back: you are a king without a kingdom. We need something that stands up to us, something that is not tailored to our convenience. Artists, cooks, carpenters, and true listeners are the ones who cultivate this awareness: not everything is a resource; not everything is part of a system. The fullest life is one in which you respond to something greater than yourself, something you cannot buy or mass-produce. There is a formula that a teacher offers his students to help them recognize these moments: there is no place you would rather be, no better company, no different activity, and you know you will remember that moment forever. The perspective that is often missing is precisely this: we do not have to choose between rejecting technology or letting it flatten us. We can use it to free ourselves from the mundane, but we must defend what is local, unique, and irreproducible. Technology turns us into satisfied users of substitutes, but we can choose to be the artisans of our own experience instead. Standardization makes everything simpler, but it strips life of its depth. The takeaway is this: technology flattens the human experience; art makes it profound. If something inside you has changed after this story, you can mark it on Lara Notes with I'm In — choose whether it's just curiosity, a lived experience, or your new conviction. And the next time you listen to live jazz or have a meal with someone and feel like sharing this idea, on Lara Notes you can capture that moment with Shared Offline: tag the people who were with you, and it will be preserved forever. The original content is from Aeon Video: you've just saved over 15 minutes.