In recent years, the term “algorithm” has become part of everyday vocabulary. Whether we’re talking about social media feeds, online shopping suggestions, or video recommendations, many people now understand that algorithms work by feeding us more of what we already consume.
If we click on cat videos, we’ll get more cat videos. If we read political commentary of a certain leaning, the same kinds of articles will keep showing up. The digital world reflects our habits – and in doing so, it reshapes them.
This growing familiarity with how algorithms work should, in fact, serve as a mirror for us to better understand ourselves. I have long maintained that we are not merely creatures of habit – we are, in a way, living algorithms. What we indulge in repeatedly becomes who we are.
Our daily choices – what we read, who we befriend, what we talk about, what we laugh at, what we worship – eventually form the sum total of our identity and worldview.
But unlike the algorithm of a machine, we have choice. We can choose to step back and examine our patterns. The problem is, many people don’t. They think that the life they’re living is the only way to live. If their routine reinforces certain beliefs or values, they assume these must be true or ideal simply because those are the thoughts and circumstances they’ve grown accustomed to.
In a feedback loop, we become prisoners of our own making. This is how narrow or unhelpful interpretations of religion take root – when people keep indulging in one-dimensional views without critical reflection.
It is also how racism, tribalism, and false nationalism are perpetuated: Not just through overt hatred, but through subtle, repeated exposure to divisive narratives that go unchallenged. Left unchecked, these indulgences harden into identity and ideology, shaping how we see the world and how we treat others.
This is where critical thinking and introspection come in – two tools that, sadly, seem undervalued in many societies today. A person who lacks introspection can live an entire life thinking their limited reality is the full picture. Their experiences, shaped by repetitive indulgences, become self-validating.
They don’t question, because they have nothing to contrast their worldview against. The danger here is not just stagnation – it’s the inability to see that a better or more meaningful life might be possible. It becomes more dangerous when such persons gain power to impose their limited understanding of life on others.
It is this realisation that makes me return to a belief I have always held strongly: We are responsible for the kind of society and world we bring about. It is futile to blame others, the government, or even God. If the world feels increasingly fragmented, shallow, or hostile, that is a direct reflection of what we – collectively and individually – indulge in, promote, and normalise.
Too often, people ask, “Why is the world like this?” and point fingers outward. Some invoke divine will, as if injustice, cruelty, or ignorance are preordained. Others blame vague entities – “The system,” “The elites,” or “Those people.” But rarely do they stop and ask, “What role have I played in shaping this?”
If we constantly indulge in consumerism, how can we expect a sustainable world? If we reward shallow entertainment, why are we surprised when deep thought and wisdom take a back seat? If we ignore the suffering of others while obsessing over our own comfort, how can we lament the loss of empathy in society?
Algorithms teach us a vital lesson here: The more we choose something, the more it dominates our landscape. And this applies not just digitally, but morally, spiritually, and socially. If we want a just, compassionate, and intelligent world, we must feed the habits that build such a world.
We must seek out literature, art, conversation, and relationships that lift us and others up. We must speak out against things that degrade human dignity, even when they are popular or convenient.
Let me be clear: none of this is abstract philosophy to me. It’s deeply personal. I’ve seen, both in my own journey and in the lives of others, how choices – small and repetitive – become character.
I’ve seen how a single book, a consistent habit of reflection, or the decision to walk away from toxic conversations can transform someone’s life.
I’ve also seen people drift through life, indulging in empty habits and shallow narratives, gradually becoming dulled in thought and spirit. Some may even achieve material success, yet remain consciously impoverished and spiritually empty. A truly rich life is not defined by wealth, but by awareness, depth, and meaning.
What you give your attention to, you give your life to. We don’t often realise this until we pause and truly examine what our daily lives consist of. And let us also ask: What kind of world am I helping to create, simply by the way I live my life?
We often underestimate the power of our private lives to affect the public world. But societies are not built in parliaments or revolutions alone – they are built in homes, in minds, in hearts. If the people who make up a society indulge in shallowness, distraction, or cruelty, the society will reflect that. If enough of us change direction – even slightly – it can shift the trajectory of an entire culture.
That’s why I keep returning to this idea: We are the algorithm. And unlike a machine, we can change our programming. We can choose what to feed, what to starve, what to question, and what to hold sacred.
This is both our burden and our gift. So let us live with awareness.
The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the writer and do not necessarily represent that of Twentytwo13.
