Category: The Machine

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What is Heidegger’s View on Technology?

What is Heidegger’s view on technology? Often, we fail to recognize the extent to which our language shapes our thinking. For example, what happens when we habitually call people human resources?

Heidegger writes in The Question Concerning Technology:

“…he [man] comes to the brink of a precipitous fall; that is, he comes to the point where he himself will have to be taken as standing-reserve.”

Those who work in HR habitually refer to people as “resources.” Yet the moment someone views us as a resource, we immediately cringe. We instinctively sense that we are being degraded.

Heidegger argues that in our age, being reduced to mere standing-reserve is almost inescapable. Whether we recognize it or not, this reduction is embedded in the very language we use. But where does this language — and the thinking behind it — come from?

In his exploration of technology, Heidegger concludes that modern technology is no longer a tool, even though it is presented as one.

“The essence of technology is by no means anything technological.”

Modern technology is a Gestell — Enframing — a conceptual framework that we cast upon reality. Technology is a way of thinking. It reveals how we see everything. Heidegger illustrates this with the example of the Rhine.

Before the twentieth century, numerous watermills stood along the river, each built into the natural flow. In the twentieth century, however, a power plant was constructed at that very site, and the river was locked into it. Now the river is built into the power plant.

This illustrates what has happened to technology. In the past, technology was built into nature. Today, nature is built into technology. In fact, almost everything is built into technology. The question is: Who serves whom?

Gradually, we have shifted from using tools to being used by them. According to Heidegger, one consequence of such a shift is that we tend to view everything as standing-reserve. Humanity stands “on the brink of a precipitous fall” because we are unconsciously turning ourselves into fuel for the Machine.

No one likes being reduced to standing-reserve, yet we continue to use the very language that produces such reductionist thinking.

As a translator, I see more and more agencies replacing personal communication with automated systems. In the past, project managers contacted me directly to offer work. Now I simply receive a notification that a job has appeared on an online platform, and I have to claim it immediately because hundreds of other translators are competing for the same assignment.

I understand why agencies do this. They have built a vast Machine, and everything —including people — must serve it. Yet there are still companies, usually smaller ones, that prefer talking to people. Those are the companies I prefer to work with.

They may sacrifice some profit, but they refuse to treat people as standing-reserve, and they refuse to become it themselves.

Modern technology enframes us to think of everything as a resource. It gives us a language that reduces both nature and humans to fuel for the Machine. We use this language almost unconsciously, yet we still recoil when a boss treats us as an expendable resource.

What is the alternative? Refuse to build our lives into technology! We must have a full and rich life without it. Only then can we build technology into the mainstream of our lives. When we use it less, we can use it some. When we use it all the time, it uses us.

When we build our life and work into technology, it invariably reduces us to standing-reserve. When we build technology into OUR life and work, we reduce it back to a tool. Ultimately, there is only one state of mind that is powerful enough to turn technology back into a tool.

Heidegger concludes,

Essential reflection upon technology and decisive confrontation with it must happen in a realm that is, on the one hand, akin to the essence of technology and, on the other, fundamentally different from it. Such a realm is art.

Explore Tolkien’s view on art and the machine:

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What Are the Long-Term Consequences of AI?

What are the long-term consequences of AI? They say: “If you meet the Buddha by the road, kill him.”

It simply means that if you worship any fixed idea outside your immediate experience, it is an illusion — destroy it. Don’t worship the map; walk the path. If something or someone hinders your “direct seeing,” let it go.

In an article I found on LinkedIn titled “Every Company Now Sounds Like ChatGPT— and That’s the Biggest Brand Opportunity in a Decade,” the author says that an analysis of 73 corporate documents has revealed the consistent use of the same syntactic constructions across multiple brands. Brands begin to sound the same:

Language models are trained to produce the statistical average of everything ever written, so when enough companies route their communications through them, every company starts sounding like the average of every other company.

Ahrefs analyzed 900,000 new web pages and found 74% contained AI-generated content. As more and more brands use ChatGPT, more and more brands begin sounding like ChatGPT.

The author concludes: “Today, sounding different becomes the rarest competitive advantage a company can have. The company with real personality, earned conviction, and concrete specificity stands out like a bonfire in a field of flashlights.”

AI makes you sound like AI — and makes you lose your voice. When we allow AI to speak for us, we become mute. When we meet a new person, we instinctively look for something unique about them. We call a person interesting only if they have a voice — not when they sound like everyone else.

Having a voice means to see and describe things in a way no one else does. I don’t want my friends to sound the same today as they did yesterday. If they are alive, they must have new experiences today worth sharing. And when they do, it makes me come alive too.

When we meet someone who sounds average, we quickly forget what they say. Yet we know — almost instinctively — that there are no average people. If someone sounds average, it simply means they have lost their voice: for some reason, they don’t speak from their own experience.

Unlike AI, we have direct experience. We are not merely a database of theoretical knowledge. We have cooked an omelet a thousand times — and we know how to make it, not as information, but as an embodied practice. And we can speak of it in our own voice.

The world desperately lacks voices because we keep delegating our voice to the Buddha by the road. If something doesn’t allow you to speak from your own heart, life, and experience — kill it. The world doesn’t need the average — only the real.

The real will be remembered. Real people are remembered, real names and brands are remembered. They can’t help being remembered — because they call. Interestingly, the word voice is related to the Latin vocare, “to call.”

To have a voice means to call. If I encounter something or someone and nothing calls to me, I will quickly forget it. We are living in a unique time — people are beginning to sense that being fully human pays, while being less than human doesn’t.

If I want to have a voice — to call, to awaken — I must speak from my direct experience. Without reference to any Buddha on the road.

“Memory favors the company that said something pointed… something that made them think ‘these people actually know what they’re talking about.’ Corporate America is converging on a single voice. The brands that opt out will own the next decade.” — Quote from the above-mentioned article on LinkedIn.

This reflection is part of a much larger vision… Check out my Mystical Vision of the Inlkings Series

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Does AI Make Us More Human? Hans Christian Andersen on the Machine’s Triumph and Collapse

Does AI make us more human? In her recent video, Julia McCoy, one of the early pioneers in AI content marketing, says that she and her family made a conscious choice to move away from technology — to rural Tennessee, to a real flesh-and-blood community, to forests, to soil-grown food, to a church, to the mountains.

In her video, titled Mountains Over Microchips, she reflects on an uncanny trend produced by the rise of AI: the more advanced AI becomes, the more we humans begin to reflect on what it means to be human.

What is it about me that’s irreplaceable?

According to Julia, people are awakening to the unbridgeable gap between the real and the artificial and are making a conscious choice to move closer to the real. The more the artificial is forced upon us, the more we realize how deeply we desire what is real.

Large AI companies push the narrative: “Upgrade or die” — suggesting that if you do not jump on the AI wagon, you will become obsolete. And yet, Elon Musk was reportedly surprised not to see a flood of volunteers to test his new Neuralink brain chip — an interface between machine and human.

The human mind can be muddled by slogans; the human heart cannot. The heart senses a difference the mind struggles to articulate. As Julia observes, in 2025–26 more and more people have chosen to become homesteaders.

The “whole foods” movement continues to spread across the globe. The price of young hens is rising — people want real eggs and real meat. The rise of the artificial awakens us to what the real feels like. The artificial may fool our eyes — but not our hearts.

In our heart of hearts, we know that real art feels different from AI-generated one. We know that real bread tastes different from synthetic substitutes. We know that real, eye-to-eye conversations with flesh-and-blood people are vastly different from Zoom calls. We know that people in person feel different from the same people on a screen.

Screens are better than nothing, but worse than everything. And we, as humans, need everything.

Perhaps the simplest way to capture what is happening to humanity is through Hans Christian Andersen’s absolute metaphor in The Nightingale.

An Emperor in China hears about a humble nightingale whose song is so beautiful that it moves listeners to tears. He summons the bird to the palace, and its song brings him joy every day.

But one day, the Emperor receives a gift — a jeweled mechanical nightingale. It is dazzling and predictable, singing on command whenever the Emperor desires. The living nightingale is gradually forgotten and eventually flies away.

In time, the mechanical bird breaks. The Emperor falls gravely ill. As Death approaches, the real nightingale returns and sings beside his bed. Its living song restores his strength, and Death itself flees.

“And the Nightingale sang so sweetly that the blood coursed quicker and quicker through the Emperor’s weak limbs, and even Death listened and said, ‘Go on, little Nightingale, go on!’”

Death then returns all the treasures it had taken:

And Death gave back each of these treasures for a song, and the Nightingale went on singing. And he sang of the quiet churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the elder trees blossom, and where the fresh grass is watered by the tears of the living.

Then Death felt a longing for his garden, and like a cold white mist he floated out of the window.”

The Nightingale is the undying symbol of the real. When we hear, see, and touch the real, we come alive. Death itself longs to hear the real and will surrender its treasures for a song — the Song.

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Does Technology Always Mean Progress? The High Cost of Making Things Cheap

Does technology always mean progress? Recently, YouTube served me a video by Julia McCoy titled “AI Just Killed Video Production,” introducing Dzine AI — a new “revolutionary” tool that has, as she claims, collapsed the entire video production industry into a 60-second workflow.

It promises to replace the costly process of traditional video production — hiring a voice actor, an animator, and a video editor — with a $25-per-month subscription.
Surprisingly, the show’s host isn’t Julia herself but her AI clone, generated with Dzine AI. The real Julia appears only at the end.

You can take any image, any character, any style, and make it speak your exact words with perfect lip sync. Bottom line? Cut your costs. Cut your time. Maximize your profit.

When I watched this, a humorous quote from Danny Devito popped up in my mind:

“Artists must suffer for their art. That’s why it’s called painting.”

If you tell an artist that true art can be created without pain, they will cringe. It’s impossible. As Viktor Frankl said, “That which gives light must endure burning.”

Can you imagine Andrei Tarkovsky creating his masterpieces with Dzine AI? For him, the obvious question would be: Why? Why cut costs if the only way to create something worthy in this world is to bear the costs of its creation?

We must experience burning in order to give light. Epictetus revealed the same conundrum:

“No great thing is created suddenly, any more than a bunch of grapes or a fig. If you tell me that you desire a fig, I answer that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen.”

The joy of art is the joy of being pregnant with whatever you are bringing to life — for nine long months. To cut time short is to give stillbirth. That’s why so much modern art feels dead: it has been created too quickly, and too cheaply.

Great art must cost. When Gaudí was asked how long it would take to build Sagrada Familia, he answered: “My customer is not in a hurry.” He began working on it in 1882, and it’s still unfinished. Just like we are unfinished. The only reason to work on something is because it works on you.

Gaudí believed that as he worked on his temple, his temple worked on him. Ultimately, the ONLY reason to create is to be created. Creators create to be created — to come alive. All a creator wants is the experience of being made.

To delegate the creative process to AI is to miss out on the joy of mothering God into the world. We don’t want the pains of bearing the sacred in our womb — yet what is created cheaply will always feel cheap.

“What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.” — Thomas Paine

The ultimate question is: how much of our joy are we willing to delegate? C.S. Lewis famously noted:

“We all want progress. But progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turning then to go forward does not get you any nearer. … In that case the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.” — Mere Christianity

Are we any nearer to our goal — the experience of joy — when we refuse to take the pains of building our temple? Modern technology does not make us happy; it gives us hype. It promises progress but delivers regress — for true progress means moving closer to our goal, not farther away from it.

When it comes to joy, cheap and fast are regress. If we desire a fig, we must give it time. Joy is a fruit — the fruit of being made through the work of our hands.
When we bear the cost, we create something of value; when we chase what is cheap and fast, we are slowly being unmade.

He who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.

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