When Technology Outsources Humanity
Growing up, I was always told that technology exists to make life easier. And for a long time, that seemed true. I watched the slow evolution of convenience in my own ancestral home — the heavy stone grinder replaced by a mixer, the washing machine freeing up my mother’s time, and the water pump reducing the need to physically draw water from the well. Machines gradually took over our physical burdens. They didn’t just replace human effort; they performed it faster, stronger, and more efficiently than we ever could. But then came the internet.
When I was in school, calculators were frowned upon because they “outsourced thinking.” But the internet revolution couldn’t be stopped. It arrived quietly and stayed, giving us infinite knowledge at our fingertips. It made us faster, smarter, and more productive; yet also subtly dependent. We stopped remembering phone numbers, stopped searching through books, and slowly stopped trusting our own recall. And then came artificial intelligence. AI feels like the next great leap, but also a mirror reflecting back uncomfortable questions. If humans have already outsourced our physical labour, and now our mental labour, what part of being human remains truly ours? Perhaps it’s our ability to connect. Humans are, after all, social beings. We laugh, argue, share, and grow together. But even this part of us has started to change. Social media blurred the line between connection and performance. Validation became a number on a screen, and emotions became emojis. For a while, we believed it was just another form of communication — until AI entered the conversation.
Now, instead of asking friends what suits us best or calling our aunts for an old family recipe, we ask our phones. And that’s what troubles me most. Losing physical or mental labour to technology changes how we live. Losing social connection changes who we are.
What happens to a species that becomes ever more intelligent, yet more isolated? Perhaps the important question we should be asking is not what happens when AI replaces jobs, but what happens to us when it replaces our friends? As humans increasingly connect more with their devices than with the people around them, the shared ideas and values that hold communities together begin to erode. The “othering” of those closest to us — neighbours, friends, even family — may at first lead only to apathy, but taken to its extreme, could give rise to isolation, alienation, or even violence. In response, we may see the emergence of cultures or faiths that deliberately reinforce community and interpersonal connection — small oases of resistance against the isolating pull of technology. Over time, even these may be forced to either adapt to or resist the pressures of technological progress.
Peer pressure and social validation have long been among the strongest forces keeping human values in check. A few years ago, a Chinese scientist used gene-editing technology to create genetically edited children — an experiment that drew worldwide condemnation. I once asked a Chinese-origin scientist studying in the West how the world might have reacted if that same experiment had occurred in the United States. Her response was telling: “It probably wouldn’t have happened. The scientific community’s peer pressure is so strong that even at the idea stage, counselling and guidance would likely have prevented it.”
That reflection has stayed with me. As humans turn increasingly to AI rather than peers, mentors, or moral anchors for advice and validation, who will provide such counsel in the future? What will stop those on the margins from using powerful technologies however they please? We are living through a moment of profound reckoning — one where humanity is gaining unprecedented power to control nature and even itself, without pausing to ask what this power is doing to us as a species.
When we outsourced physical labour to vacuum cleaners and cars, we invented treadmills to get exercise. When we noticed waning mental sharpness, we created brain games. But how can technology replicate genuine human connection — the social fabric that holds us together? It cannot, and we should not delude ourselves into thinking that weakening human bonds is a mark of progress. Ironically, while we fiercely regulate technologies that pose tangible physical risks, those that quietly erode our social cohesion often pass unexamined, because the harm they cause is diffuse and impersonal.
It is time to recognise that governance must be both individual and species-led. Modern technology allows us to do almost anything, but we must ask whether everything that can be done should be done. How do we measure risk when the threat is not to an individual body, but to the collective spirit of humanity? As we stand on the cusp of transformative advances — from brain–computer interfaces to artificial intelligence and gene editing — perhaps it is time to pause and ask a deeper question: not what we can become, but what it means to remain humans.
Author’s note: This blog is based purely on human sentiment and perspective, but the writing has used an AI-based tool.