Modern Era

The world we inhabit or were born into has established a system that promises us reason and progress, yet never reveals what it takes from us—among the damaged structures we mistake for the essential elements of our cities, the things young generations have seen since their arrival, the air they breathe. Modern life behaves as if everything has always been this way; quietly stripping away the simplicity and human-centered spirit of the past. The greatest theft is not committed with noise, but through habituation—and modern life does precisely this. It draws us in without even requiring intellectual engagement, seduced by the daily rush and the alluring appeal of what is deemed modern. We, in turn, step onto this treadmill without a second thought, because a ready stage is presented to us: the set is fixed, the lights are on, the performance has long begun. We open our eyes in the center of the stage, and everything unfolds as if predetermined. The world offers us the lie that “everything has always been this way,” but it was not; once, the world allowed humans to breathe.

The most prominent crisis of the modern individual is that while technology connects us to one another, it simultaneously severs us from our own authentic selves. Every smart device links to another, yet in this era, the human being cannot even first connect meaningfully with themselves or their immediate surroundings. On one hand, more communication, more networks, more connections; on the other, a growing sense of disconnection within us. While we believe technology empowers us, we grow alienated from our own center. The more connected we become, the more we disappear. Our identities blur; our thoughts lose their power amid the rush. Sometimes, we are like a hamster running on a treadmill that leads nowhere—moving, exhausted, but progressing nowhere. This is the irony of modern life: we act as if we are moving forward, yet we do not advance.

As modern life intensifies its pressure on nature and the natural world, pressure on human living spaces also increases. Hence, modern cities are built—only structures driven by profit and utility rise. There is no aesthetic concern, no soul, and the number of spaces that may one day offer no place for human beings continues to grow. The symbolic places of the city, the structures that recall the past, are shrunk, squeezed to the margins, or entirely erased. In their place, streets are constructed that expand or contract according to consumption needs, gradually eroding the human presence. Standing beside towering skyscrapers, people feel smaller than they are. Walking down streets so long their ends cannot be seen, when one looks up, the massive structures looming overhead make even breathing difficult. Public spaces lose their spirit; when a place has no soul, it becomes mere decor—and this desiccates the inner world of the human being. The traditional structure and culture of cities, which once embraced the human being through texture and essence, are now replaced by modern cities that push us outward. While historic cities carry a story and leave a trace of their essence in a corner of the future, today’s cities sustain, at every corner, different, soulless objects and decorations.

The second great force modern life uses to grasp the human being is the concept of time. It does not take time from us; it does something more cunning: it makes us feel we have no time. Thus, a voluntary servitude begins. This modern age increases our pace toward a destination we do not even know, because modern life requires our constant busyness to survive. Commands like “faster,” “more productive,” “more successful” whisper constantly in our ears. No one asks “why?” because thinking requires slowing down—and the modern world does not want that. We are pushed so hard to keep moving that we no longer consider whether there is someone we are competing against, whether there is a finish line, or what comes after it. There is no time for such thoughts; we are not allowed to stop. Feeling as if we are progressing is enough. Modern life traps us in a cycle, constructing an invisible pillar of speed and time that sustains the system. We are expected to endlessly chase quantity, to always want more. We are run like hamsters; when we grow tired, the system offers us a great reward: a short commercial break. “Buy something. Be happy.” Then run again.

In this system, achieving true happiness is extremely difficult; therefore, something must happen to make us feel good. What, then, is required? According to this system, there are things that make us feel happy. What might they be? Shopping is, in fact, a continuous giving away—constantly filling a spiritual or emotional void with a commodity, without examining what is stirred within us, instead fixating on what exists outside and believing these things will place us in a better position than we currently are. This vicious cycle, which we mistake for a solution, confuses our surroundings as much as our minds. When the new commodity fails to make us feel as desired, we seek another. Eventually, who becomes the commodity? Yes, modern times turn the modern human, who is forced to be modern, into a commodity. Like every individual in their own herd, they enter the same whirlpool, believing that despite repeating the same actions over and over, they will reach a better position.

This reality brings many other consequences. Consider a street: a standard street where visibly different people walk, sit on benches, and gaze at the scenery. Yet on this street, nearly everyone wears similar clothes—perhaps the same brand, the same style, the same appearance, similar thoughts… a desire to display status or conform to the group. Many streets today are like this. Imagine those sitting on benches holding coffee in paper cups—the brand printed on the cup is always a specific one. Because in this era, most things must come from certain places, accessible only to those of a certain status or level. The brands that sell must be willing to sustain the modern and capitalist order. These brands must have a presence in every corner of the world. Because popular culture, which has penetrated our veins with modernity, needs to turn us into loyal customers. They demand that we reject our own culture and do what the majority does. The existence of what is local and uniquely ours displeases them. The individual is summoned into the system, initially offered more at lower prices, and over time, the individual finds their place within this cycle, becoming a willing soldier of the system. Then, modern brands and popular culture exercise their hidden right to introduce change, imposing new rules on the system. But there is no need to panic: the individual, now commodified, no longer cares about what prices are assigned to what objects—only whether they possess them. At this stage, there is an extraordinary gap between the individual’s original purpose for embarking on this journey and their final destination. The original purpose was to silence emotional dissatisfaction or a sense of emptiness; but suddenly, the individual, perhaps unaware or even aware, has joined the herd—because others, like them, buy the same things, consume the same things, and are exhausted in the same ways…

Actually, there is no need to explain all these conditions at length, because the modern individual, consumed by modernity, has neither the time nor the capacity for long reading or deep understanding. They require short propaganda, short hopes, short pleasures, and must orient themselves not toward what they truly want, but toward what they believe they want. The modernized individual lives on a quiet need for approval, believing themselves free; the possibility that other influences shaped their decisions never crosses their mind. Though it may sound heavy, I wish to assign greater subjectivity to this sentence: the modern individual cannot possess a truly original idea or purpose of their own. They circle around those they imagine themselves to be, choose to be like them, and feel compelled to be like them. They know deep down they do not truly belong there, yet, as they are processed within the system, they acquire a new dimension of modern character. The being we call “individual” has become so detached from the meaning of the word that the term itself no longer holds significance. The word “individual” no longer corresponds to the reality it once described.

I will not be among those who expose the problems and then flee, saying “there is no solution.” I will not merely recount them at length. I am not one who promotes their own ideas or shouts to impose them on others. I am like a small quatrain written on a piece of paper, tucked between the dusty pages of an old book. In essence, that quatrain says: “There is a solution. The solution is common sense. The solution is to be true to nature—to be aware of our inner truth without allowing external forces to determine who we are. Know what tradition and custom are, and stand up for what belongs to us, instead of accepting imposed things that bear the name of popular culture but contain no culture at all. The solution is these things. The solution is not quantity. The solution is not what everyone else does. The solution cannot be artificial. The solution is natural and true.”