“We Still Have the Most Human Tool”
“Why is everyone always arguing online?”
The 12-year-old asked, clutching their phone as if it might turn against them.
It was a typical day outside the library. I, an older man, was waiting for a ride, and they, a 12-year-old, were waiting for a parent. We struck up a conversation, and I was struck by their curiosity and bravery, unmarred by the cynicism that often comes with age.
I laughed a little, not because it was funny, but because they’d asked the one question grown-ups have been too tired or afraid to answer honestly.
So I told them.
We Gave Everyone a Microphone, But No Compass
“We live in the most connected and curated time in human history,” I said.
“And somehow, everyone feels more alone.” They nodded. They knew.
We can reach anyone in the world with a sentence, a swipe, a video, or a story — but we never learned how to listen. We handed out megaphones but no frameworks. We built platforms without trust. And we flooded the public square with so much noise that even truth started to sound suspicious.
It’s a conflict as old as the two halls that have shaped civilization: the marketplace and the courtroom. In one, voices compete for attention; in the other, for authority. Over the centuries, we never resolved how to balance expression with understanding. We just made the halls bigger, louder, and more connected — until even the echoes drowned out the meaning.
“But why?” They asked.
Tools Amplify What’s Already There
I pulled out my phone, cracked, like everyone’s, and said, “This thing? It’s not neutral.” They looked puzzled.
“It’s a tool. And tools amplify whatever you put into them. If you’ve got trust, this amplifies connection. But if there’s fear, shame, or suspicion… well, this makes it louder.” They blinked. “Like when my parents won’t tell each other their phone passwords.” Exactly. It’s not the phone’s fault. It’s ours.
The tools we’ve created now amplify our vulnerabilities faster than our values. The consequence is a landscape shaped by confusion, mistrust, and fragmentation. Even when our tribes try to use these tools to unify us, they often end up deepening the divides they hope to heal. In a world where perception defines experience, “truth” has become something each of us must navigate, rather than something we can all agree upon.
Democracy Without Comprehension
This isn’t just about phones. It’s about communication itself.
We gave humanity the most powerful civic technology in existence: the ability to speak, connect, and shape meaning together. But we did it before we prepared people to use it wisely — before we taught them how to hold contradictions, seek nuance, or engage with people they disagreed with.
It’s as if we handed everyone the First Amendment without also teaching them the Federalist Papers. We gave them the right to speak, but not the reasoning behind the republic. We often forget that free speech isn’t just a liberty, but a discipline. A responsibility. One that only works when paired with the courage to listen and the skill to disagree without destruction..
And in doing so, we created a world where people tune out — not because they don’t care, but because it feels safer than caring.
According to a 2023 Pew study, 64% of U.S. adults say they feel overwhelmed by the volume of news and online content. Nearly 1 in 3 Gen Z users report taking extended breaks from social media due to emotional fatigue. We handed out billions of microphones — over 5.04 billion active social media accounts globally — but we built almost no filters to help people make sense of what they were hearing.
And just like that, the tools meant to unite us started to divide us instead.
People Deserve Expression and Privacy — Not One or the Other
I told them something I wish more people understood:
You deserve to speak.
You also deserve silence.
And you don’t owe your whole digital self to anyone.
People aren’t just data streams to be mined, tracked, or optimized — they are living, evolving stories made up of context, memory, and meaning. A healthy communication system must honor this complexity by safeguarding both the right to express oneself and the right to remain private. These are not opposing values — they are complementary. Sacrificing privacy for expression, or vice versa, erodes the very humanity that communication is meant to serve.
That’s one of the principles I hope to discuss in a TED Talk, what I call the “social equivalent of the Three Laws of Robotics.”
They go something like this:
A communication system must not harm human dignity, or, through inaction, allow it to be harmed.
It must respect a person’s right to privacy, expression, and silence.
It must obey the will of users, but only when doing so doesn’t violate the first two.
They smiled. “Like rules for people who make apps?”
“Exactly,” I said. “But also for people who use them.”
The Lie of Opting Out
Before their parent arrived, I told them one last thing:
“You’re going to hear people say they don’t care anymore. That it’s all fake. That nothing matters. That silence is peace.” And then I leaned in.
“But things are the way they are because someone wants them that way. Apathy isn’t an accident; it’s the outcome. When people give up and tune out, it serves those who benefit from the silence.
“That’s not peace. That’s surrender.”
Communication isn’t broken.
It’s just been misused.
It still works. It still matters.
It’s still the most human tool we’ve ever built.
And it’s still waiting — for those willing to reclaim it, not with noise, but with intention. If this tool is being used against us, by others, or by ourselves, then the real question isn’t who’s to blame, but who’s willing to take responsibility. Because control hasn’t been lost, it’s just been abandoned. And we can still choose to listen.
What Comes Next
This moment, right here, this conversation with a stranger was the seed for a message I’ve spent my life trying to craft. One, I hope to deliver on a TED stage someday.
It’s called: “The Most Human Tool We Still Have.”
And yet, it’s not a tech talk. It’s a call to civic courage. To redesign how we communicate. To stay in the conversation, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because if we don’t show up, others will shape the future for us. And they’re not constantly shaping it with our humanity in mind.
So Stay Tuned
The next chapter begins with a story. And you’re not just in it; you’re a crucial part of it. Your voice, your experiences, and your perspective are all essential to the conversation we’re about to have. And you’re in it, whether you like it or not.
But here’s the good news:
You still have a voice.
And you still have the tool.
Now use it.