Losing Faith in society

Reflections on the World We’ve Built

I must confess that I feel disenchanted. This is not a light confession, nor a phrase thrown into the air to attract attention as clickbait. It is something I have carried for some time, something that has grown as the world around me seems to move in a direction increasingly at odds with my values and beliefs.

I grew up believing in the importance of words, in the power of ideas, in the beauty of emotional depth, and in the value of critical thinking. Yet today, I find myself living in a society where appearances often shine brighter than essence, where image holds more value than truth, and where noise drowns out reflection. We are disconnected from our true selves — unaware of this disconnection and lost within ourselves.

I write this now because I no longer wish to remain silent. Silence would be complicity; it would mean allowing disenchantment to devour me in passivity. I would rather name what I feel, even if it makes some uncomfortable. I wish, even from the humility of my words, to build a bridge towards those who feel the same: tired, disappointed, frustrated, wounded by a world that seems obsessed with immediacy while forgetting what is essential. Writing this is an act of resistance — and also an act of hope. I still believe change is possible.

Superficiality as the New Norm

I must write these words slowly, carefully, to ensure I express their essence. We live in the age of the image. Everything is designed to be seen, consumed in seconds, and to generate an instant reaction. Social media, which once promised to connect the world, has become a showcase of carefully edited appearances. It no longer matters what we are; what matters is what we show. That subtle difference has reshaped the way we live.

Conversations online no longer feel like dialogues but like performances. We do not listen to understand; we listen merely to respond, to collect likes or applause. Authenticity has been replaced by strategy: How do I appear smarter, happier, more successful? In chasing this image, we slowly abandon ourselves. Depth requires time, but today’s world does not reward time — it rewards immediacy, brevity, spectacle. And so true essence disappears.

This culture of appearances does not stay confined to screens. It seeps into our daily lives. Relationships grow fragile because they are based on impressions rather than shared truths. Self-esteem becomes hostage to algorithms. Even our emotions are filtered, edited, erased: sadness, doubt, vulnerability — censored and replaced with curated smiles and empty words. In this process, critical thought and emotional depth are vanishing.

As a resilient and positive person, I have tried to adapt, to observe the world with optimism — but lately I have struggled. We are surrounded by content but starved of meaning. We are more connected than ever, yet lonelier than ever. The superficiality that dominates our networks is eroding the very foundations of our humanity.

The Age of Anger and Frustration

If this superficiality were not enough, we are also living in an era of anger. Evidence is everywhere: a brief scroll through almost any comment section reveals harsh tones, merciless judgements, and personal attacks. The digital world has opened the door to our darkest impulses, allowing them to grow unchecked — to insult without compassion and punish without knowing the person. And this is not confined to the internet; it appears in our daily lives — at work, between neighbours, among friends, within families, even in schools.

Why are we so angry? Where does this aggression come from? Perhaps it is because we feel powerless — or worse, empty. We are constantly told we live in an age of progress, yet so many feel excluded, left behind, invisible. Anger becomes a mask for helplessness.

Perhaps constant exposure to comparison and perfection fuels frustration. We see carefully crafted images of ideal lives and, instead of inspiring us, they leave us with the bitter taste of not belonging. Anger becomes the outlet for that pain.

We are also being forced into extremes: for or against, left or right, good or bad. Complexity, which is natural to human life, is erased. When everything is reduced to black and white, compassion disappears. Those who think differently become enemies rather than fellow human beings with stories worth understanding.

This collective anger is exhausting. It saturates me with a noise that makes it difficult to breathe. Yet I understand it. Anger is a sign that something hurts. Perhaps we are witnessing a society that is wounded, struggling to find a place where it can heal — struggling to feel, to speak, to connect.

The Loss of Respect and Compassion

What I miss most in this era is respect — not the superficial respect of politeness or etiquette, but the deep respect that recognises the dignity of others. We no longer listen to understand; we listen to dismiss, to minimise, to defeat. We no longer see individuals; we see categories, stereotypes, and labels. There is little space for difference or creativity.

Compassion, too, is fading. I see it in the way suffering is met with indifference — or worse, mockery. Someone shares their vulnerability and receives ridicule instead of support. We are quick to judge and slow to care. In doing so, we lose one of the most essential aspects of being human: the ability to recognise ourselves in another’s pain. How often have we seen videos of someone hurt in the street while bystanders record instead of helping?

This behaviour reflects a cruel individualism that places personal gain above collective well-being. “Look out for yourself” has become the mantra, and empathy is treated almost as a weakness. But no one truly thrives in isolation. We need one another — more than likes, more than digital applause — we need genuine care. Yet when society teaches us to compete rather than collaborate, compassion becomes an act of rebellion.

And perhaps that is exactly what it must be: a rebellion. To choose respect, to choose compassion, to choose to listen when the world shouts may be the most radical thing we can do in this moment in history.

Is Change Possible?

Can we, as individuals, do something to counter this superficiality, anger, and indifference? I believe we can — indeed, we must. Change will not come from algorithms, governments, or corporations. It will come from us, from small acts of presence and authenticity that transform the world we live in.

I can begin by refusing to live only on the surface — by allowing myself to be vulnerable, to show not just the polished version of my life but also its raw, unfiltered reality. I can choose to be real, to show my highs and lows. I can choose to listen — not merely to reply, but to understand. I can slow down, read more, reflect more, think critically instead of scrolling endlessly. These choices may seem small, but they are seeds — seeds that grow deep roots.

We can also choose compassion. We can remind ourselves daily that the person on the other side of the screen is a human being with fears, dreams, and wounds like ours. We can choose respect, even when we disagree — especially when we disagree. And we can choose to take care of one another in ways that go beyond the superficial. We can hold hands more, hug more, speak our love more freely.

If there is hope, it lies in these small, everyday rebellions: in speaking kindly when anger is easier, in seeking depth when superficiality is expected, in offering empathy where indifference prevails. We cannot fix the world overnight, but we can illuminate the small circle of influence each of us carries. When those circles multiply, they create a light strong enough to push back the darkness.

So, I return to my initial confession: yes, I am disenchanted. But I am also hopeful — hopeful that if we dare to see beyond the surface, if we dare to resist the culture of anger and embrace respect and compassion, we can build something different. Something deeper, truer, more human.

Because, in the end, the world changes when we change.

And I, for one, am ready to begin. Are you?