Why We Need the Humanities in an Age of Technology

“We are not necessarily doubting that the flame is real; we are wondering how it ever got started burning.” —C.S. Lewis

In the age of technology, as all may know by now, we are confronted with a dizzying collection of spectacles: artificial intelligence, genetic engineering, virtual realities, and algorithms so sophisticated they threaten to redefine not just how we work, but how we think. With such guarantees of progress, it is no surprise that many see the humanities—the study of history, philosophy, literature, and the arts—as an antique of the past, a luxury for a time when human civilization was less advanced. We are now in an era where the pulse of human development is measured in terms of gadgets, codes, and the promises of efficiency. The world has become an orchestra of technological innovation, and yet, I cannot shake the feeling that in the cacophony of this synthetic symphony, we risk losing something crucial: our humanity.

One can observe in the inventors of the computer age, a tendency to reduce human beings to extremely data points. We are eternally classified, scrutinized, and optimized for the systems we create ourselves. We envision the mind as a collection of electrical stimulations, a map of tomographic tracks to be deciphered, mapped, stored, and reprogrammed. The promise of AI and big data is seductive. Given the right data and the right algorithm, it is possible to predict behavior, make a diagnosis of disease, or even prescribe a human partner for a person. But in this relentless pursuit of efficiency, of optimization, some quiet weevils—some indefinable, and possibly even holy, fades.

I do not write these words out of nostalgia or from the presumed perspective of yearning for an easier time. I write because I see the decay of something that is not just valuable, but essential to our survival as humans. The humanities—the scholarly disciplines (old hats) that grapple with the core of being human—are not the mere bygone has-beens of a bygone era. They are the solution to dehumanization that threatens to engulf us. At a time defined by technological progress it is precisely the humanities that can provide us with direction, coherence, and wisdom in ways that no algorithm or code ever could.

The humanities are, to a great extent, the originators of our moral and ethical systems, etc. Technology, after all, is not naturally good or bad. It is a device, a ship for the mapper, but it is the wonky maps that determine which side of the boat manorship the mapper owns, and thus the values held by the user will determine the outcome. And herein lies the paradox: technology may advance at a staggering pace, but we cannot afford to overlook the fact that our values have not kept up with this speed. The ethical challenges that artificial intelligence raises, from monitoring to genetic transformation, each of them, require a better understanding of human nature, which is difficult for an artificial intelligence machine. It is the humanities that teach us to formulate questions, to strive for knowledge, to probe the nature of our acts.

Imagine, for a while, the great questions that spring from the aftermath of technological innovations. We have already witnessed the ways in which the digital age has reshaped the very concept of privacy. What does it mean for our freedom if our every movement, every choice, is being monitored? What is the fate of our sense of self if the boundaries between real and virtual are increasingly effaced? Those questions can't be answered by technology, though, it is necessary to the wisdom of philosophy, of ethics, of literature. It's there, in the humanities, that we will discover the means and the impetus to grapple with the fallout of our innovations.

Take, for instance, the rise of social media. On the surface, platforms like X, Facebook, and Instagram seem to offer exceptional opportunities for connection. However, in reality, they tend to leave us more isolated, more fragmented, and more polarized than before. These platforms are, at their heart, developed to affect our emotions, to control our gaze, and to transform our lives into products. Because when studying this phenomenon in terms of literature, history and philosophy we start to realize the risks inherent in such systems. As from Aldous Huxley to George Orwell, we are cautioned by the media that the technologies of mass communication, if not used with restraint, can serve as a means of oppression and estrangement.

The humanities offer us not only a critical lens through which to view our technological advancements, but also provide us with a means of understanding the very nature of human experience. By means of literature, we plumb the human psyche its phobias, wishes, paradoxes and longings. The great novels and plays of the past give us the opportunity to occupy the minds of others, to understand lives different from our own, to wrestle with the timeless questions that define our existence. And in the process, they teach us empathy, compassion, and humility. These are not abstract ideals; they are the very qualities that allow us to remain human in the face of machines that seem indifferent to our needs, and they are mostly forgotten.

What is the purpose of life? How should we live? What is justice? These are not issues with which an equation or a formula will do the job. They are demanding of self-questioning, and above all of a profound grasp of what it is like to be human.

In many regards, the humanities serve as a counterforce to the grip of technology determinism. There must be a belief among some in Silicon Valley that technology will inevitably lead us to a utopia—a world where all problems are solved and all desires met. This is, of course, a dangerous illusion. Technology, for all its wonder, does not have the answers to the existential questions that plague us. It does not tell us what gives a life meaning. It cannot offer us wisdom, or meaning, or purpose. These (i.e., the real things that do really matter) are not in the world of the machine but in the world of the human spirit.

And perhaps that is the most important reason we need the humanities in an age of technology: because they remind us of what we stand to lose. In our rush toward progress, we risk sacrificing the very qualities that make life meaningful. Without the humanities, we risk becoming nothing more than sophisticated automatons, our every decision and thought guided by algorithms that understand us better than we understand ourselves. In this brave new world, the humanities are the last castle of resistance, the last sanctuary for the human soul.

The case for the humanities is not one of defending the past, nor is it nostalgia for a golden age as an ideal past reborn. On the contrary, it is a call to battle against an unpredictable fate. At the time of technology conquering our lives, it is the humanities that equip us to make our way through the turbulent waters of our world, to understand our position in that world, and above all not let the pursuit of improved lives drive us to forget what it truly means to be human.

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