Technology & Human Connection

We live in an age of constant connection, yet loneliness persists. As philosopher Alain de Botton observes, "If you are not lonely about 40% of the time, you are actually doing quite well by human standards." This paradox reveals a crucial opportunity: how might technology bridge the gap between connection and genuine understanding?

I’m convinced the answer lies not just in what our technology does, but in how it makes us feel. As talent futurist Allyn Bailey notes, "Great tech isn't just about what it does. It's about how it makes people feel: empowered, understood, capable."

The Disconnection Paradox

We all long to be accepted and appreciated for who we are, not just for our strengths, but for our flaws and complexities. The complete makeup of experiences that define us as unique individuals. If we're lucky, we experience this acceptance with family and friends. For many, this remains elusive.

Some believe true understanding is impossible, that our fundamental separateness means we can never truly be seen by others. There's too much difference between us all. The best we can hope for are brief moments where our experiences overlap, like intersecting circles in a Venn diagram.

For most of human history, this sense of isolation was normal, woven into everyone's daily experience. But now we carry escape machines in our pockets. When disconnection strikes, we face a choice: feel through the discomfort or escape at the first sign of it. This constant option to avoid discomfort may actually be making genuine connection harder to achieve.

Where Technology Succeeds

This doesn't make me technology-averse, quite the opposite. When technology helps us bridge gaps that were previously unbridgeable, it's transformative. One of our biggest social wins has been the ease with which people can now find community. A teenager in rural Montana can connect with others who share their interests, struggles, or identity in ways that were impossible a generation ago.

Greater connection has illuminated injustice and accelerated social change. This visibility has helped people feel more comfortable being themselves, whatever form that takes. While we have far to go, we continue moving in a positive direction.

Recognizing the Barriers

The ease with which we feel disconnected often signals where technology can help most. These moments also reveal unnecessary barriers that prevent us from moving forward. When we encounter friction, especially in processes we expect to be simple, we often jump to feelings of disconnection and create meaning that isn't there.

Consider the last time you tried to cancel a subscription online. Those deliberately confusing cancel buttons and hidden contact forms aren't just bad design, they're barriers that can make you feel manipulated and undervalued. Similarly, when a prospective student struggles with our application for admission, I witness firsthand how poor interface design can make someone feel they don't belong in higher education.

As someone who works with mission-centered institutions, this is a constant battle. I continuously seek ways to provide greater access to students, removing barriers and creating space for them to feel welcomed and ready for success.

As a parent, I try to teach my children resilience so they can navigate these situations and recognize when their meaning-making minds are working overtime. I watch my daughter get frustrated when asking Alexa question because the voice interface has delays and feels clunky. A reminder that even advanced technology can create emotional barriers.

As a consumer and human, I try to remember that I'm remarkably good at creating meaning where none likely exists, and that I have a choice to hold onto that meaning or let it go. This practice proves much harder than I'd like.

As someone who builds technology tools, I see tremendous opportunity.

The Experience Economy and Emotional Design

- signull vs noise (Substack)

This insight perfectly captures our design challenge. When we build experiences, we must pay attention to how they make people feel, not just how they function or what data they process. We shouldn't ship anything until we understand its emotional impact.

This focus on feeling was once a luxury reserved for those who could afford it. Premium hotels like Ritz-Carlton built their brands on emotional experience, the feeling of being anticipated and cared for. Technology and decreased production costs have made "feeling" a major marketplace factor, one that's becoming increasingly important.

We're witnessing a continued shift toward an experience economy, moving from Commodities → Goods → Services → Experiences. A technology experience can be tested and refined repeatedly, then maintained once optimized. Making it an incredibly valuable asset with potentially exponential returns on investment.

Apple has mastered this game and built an empire on it. When Steve Jobs returned to Apple in 1997, he didn't just focus on faster processors or more features. He obsessed over the moment someone first opened an iPhone box. Paying attention to details such as the satisfying resistance of the lid and the careful layering of components. Jobs understood that the relationship between human and technology begins before you even turn on the device.

I remember heated debates with hardcore PC users who wouldn't touch a Mac under any circumstances. They despised Apple's limitations, the closed, end-to-end environment where customization was restricted and, until recently, inaccessible without coding knowledge.

Yet Apple's approach worked. For the last 20 years, tech companies have invested billions in customer experience. Using their apps feels enjoyable, even addictive. This emotional engagement drives sustained usage and loyalty.

The Path Forward: Designing for Empathy

The question is this: Does your digital experience make people feel more capable and understood, or does it add to their sense of isolation? The answer determines not just your success, but whether technology fulfills its promise to enhance human connection.

Here's a practical framework for empathy-driven design:

The Connection Checklist:

• Does this feature make someone feel more competent or less?
• Where might someone feel excluded or confused?
• What emotions do we want people to experience at each step?
• Are we removing barriers or creating new ones?​
  

When we deliberately design technology to build community and limit friction, we create space for people to feel welcome and understood. This isn't just good business, it's how we honor technology's potential to bring out the best in our shared humanity.

The tools are in our hands. Are we using it to bridge the empathy gap or widen it?