The Social Tools and Shortcuts to define humans of the world

 I was eating lunch with a few colleagues today. A new colleague joined us — she was visiting from a different office. I’m on very good terms with everyone, so my relationship status and the quest for a perfect partner often come up in conversation, usually turning into humorous escapades. So naturally, it came up again, and I took it in jest.

The new colleague asked me a bit about where I’m from and a few other details, perhaps so she could set me up if she found someone. And of course, these are things people would want to know if they’re trying to understand you better in any way.

But something dawned on me hours later — an unexpected feeling of discomfort, even rage. While matchmaking, people ask and consider details like where we are from, how we look, where we studied, how much we earn, and so on. After some levelheaded thinking, I realized what vexed me was how extremely reductive all of this is of who anyone truly is.

Our place of birth, the colleges we attend, the religions we follow — these are just facts that happen to be. In reality, these details are insignificant in defining what kind of a man or woman a person is. So why do we live in a society that values such material coordinates over the actual personality of a person?

It made me wonder — wouldn’t it matter more how a person acts under pressure, what values they would impart to their child, or how they respond to differences in opinion? Shouldn’t these define compatibility far more than any surface-level detail?

And then it became clearer why we rely on such standards instead of ideas that actually define human worth. I believe the reason is the same as many other imperfect societal processes — it is simply more convenient. We are conditioned to use these tangible details as primary criteria because that’s how we’ve always seen society function. People rely on such questions not necessarily out of insensitivity, but because they lack the tools to perceive depth quickly. It becomes a substitute for a more demanding, thoughtful way of understanding others.

Society trains us to navigate relationships through shortcuts. Matchmaking becomes logistics first, meaning later. It is crude, disheartening — but not always malicious.

These basic facts — origin, location, background — become proxies for human worth, compatibility, and desirability. Our limited faculties of communication and expression translate something far more complex but do so (very) poorly.

Still, it is disappointing to observe a fundamental mismatch between the depth at which we can experience humanity, and the shallow coordinates society uses to navigate it. Once you notice it, it becomes difficult to ignore. Society flattens and reduces individual worth through pre-determined standards — it feels like compressing a symphony into a spreadsheet.

And then we must live within that system, be seen through its language, and even participate in it to survive… all the while knowing, with clarity, that it is inadequate.

Such a system, I believe:

• Forces reduction
• Normalizes superficial proxies
• Quietly erodes the recognition of inner life

The flaw becomes apparent when we see how modern societies rely on reduction to function at scale. Resumes, introductions, profiles, and matchmaking all follow the same logic — reducing the potential of human interaction into datasets instead of beings. This inevitably creates problems everywhere: mismatches in job roles, the commercialization of art and cinema, and even strain in romantic relationships.

The quiet cost of such a system is this: we are teaching people to look past each other before they ever learn how to look into each other.

And yet, there is no clear boundary violation here. No single actor to correct. The problem lies in how reality itself is structured — leaving behind a subtle but suffocating feeling of existing within a civilization we did not design.

Still, this is not merely an expression of displeasure on my part. There are valid reasons why society operates the way it does. We must face a hard truth: society does not exist to recognize us. It exists to coordinate large numbers of people, reduce complexity, and function at scale. Reduction is its operating system. That does not necessarily make it right — but it does make it inexorable.

And once we see this, something shifts. Society may never be the place where we are truly understood — individuals will be. Very few. Very slowly. Very selectively. We must learn to live fully in this world without asking it to validate our depth. The world is built for navigation, not recognition.

To be clear — I do not resent people for asking the wrong questions. I resent a world that never taught them better ones.

The reason I write this is simple: in my own little way, I hope to offer the world- a moment of self-reflection. Perhaps a few among us might begin to see the limitations of the system we so naturally accept.

The Devil of Democracy

I have been thinking a lot lately about how the democratic system works and where it has brought us in today’s society.

This reflection applies broadly to many nations governed under some form of democratic republic. In theory, democracy is a system that belongs entirely to the people. The representatives who govern are elected from among the public, and the laws and policies they create are supposed to serve the interests of the citizens.

Yet in practice, this ideal often feels surprisingly rare.

More often than not, the politicians who are elected are not necessarily the most competent individuals for the responsibilities they assume. They are simply the individuals who manage to secure the majority of votes. This highlights two fundamental problems within democratic systems.

First, voters themselves may lack the expertise or information needed to evaluate who would be most capable of governing effectively. Modern governance requires knowledge of economics, law, administration, diplomacy, and social policy — areas in which the average voter may understandably have limited exposure.

Second, voters are incredibly diverse in their needs and priorities. Expecting one individual to represent the complex interests of millions is inherently difficult. A candidate may resonate with certain groups for cultural, ideological, or emotional reasons, even if they lack the qualifications required for the position they seek.

In many cases, those who rise through the political system are well-connected or well-funded individuals with personal ambitions and political alliances. The everyday voter, meanwhile, is often preoccupied with the challenges of daily life — especially in economically weaker sections of society. For many people, survival and stability take precedence over closely scrutinizing political candidates or policy proposals.

Unfortunately, this creates a situation where large portions of the population are disengaged from the political process, while those who are most invested in politics are often those who stand to benefit from power.

As democracies grow larger and more complex, this problem tends to intensify. The larger the population and the broader the constituencies, the harder it becomes for voters to meaningfully evaluate candidates or hold them accountable. A system that was designed to empower the public can gradually become distant from the very people it is meant to serve.

Another challenge lies in the incentives of democratic politics. For most political parties and elected officials, the primary objective is re-election. As a result, decisions are frequently shaped by approval ratings, public perception, and electoral strategy rather than by long-term public welfare.

Added to this is the influence of campaign financing. Elections are expensive, and those who provide financial backing often gain significant influence over policy priorities. When this happens, the interests of powerful donors can begin to overshadow the interests of ordinary citizens.

It is somewhat ironic that in a system designed to serve the people — the very meaning embedded in the word “democracy” — the voters themselves can sometimes become the lowest priority in political decision-making.

This raises an important question: what are the alternatives?

Should democracy be abandoned altogether? Should societies move toward more centralized or radical systems of governance?

The answer is not simple, and there is unlikely to be a single model that works perfectly for every city, state, or nation. However, certain improvements could strengthen democratic systems.

For instance, there could be stronger requirements ensuring that candidates running for public office possess relevant qualifications or experience. Public education and civic awareness could also be improved so that voters are better equipped to evaluate policies and candidates. A more informed electorate is one of the strongest safeguards of democracy.

At the same time, it is important to recognize that the leaders who emerge from democratic systems are products of the same societies that elect them. The flaws we see in governance often reflect broader social realities.

If societies wish to improve their political systems, they must also invest in building communities of thoughtful, responsible, and informed citizens — people who care not only about their own interests but also about the collective well-being of society.

In the end, democracy may still be the most viable system we have. But like any system, it requires constant reflection, reform, and participation to truly serve the people it was designed to represent.