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Meaning and Morality in the Modern Age | Podcast Highlights

Blog Post | Wellbeing

Meaning and Morality in the Modern Age | Podcast Highlights

Marian Tupy interviews Steven Pinker about the so-called "crisis of meaning," the decline of religion, and what can give life purpose in a modern, largely secular world.

Listen to the podcast or read the full transcript here.

Today, I’m pleased to have with me Steven Pinker, a world-renowned Harvard University psychologist and author of best-selling books including The Blank Slate, The Better Angels of Our Nature, Enlightenment Now, and of course, most recently, When Everyone Knows That Everyone Knows. Highly recommend all of them.

Let’s start at a high level and look at how Americans think about the country. Gallup shows that 80 percent of Americans are either satisfied or very satisfied with their lives, but only 20 percent are satisfied with the way that America is going. That’s a bit of a discrepancy.

What does a psychologist have to say about that?

It’s a fascinating phenomenon that pollsters have known about for decades. They call it “the optimism gap.” It appears in just about any question.

“What is the quality of education in this country?”

“It’s terrible.”

“What’s the quality of your child’s school?”

“Well, not bad.”

“How safe is the country?”

“Oh, you can’t walk anywhere. You’ll get mugged.”

“How safe is your neighborhood?”

“Oh, I feel perfectly fine.”

Part of it is that, because none of us can experience the entire country ourselves, our opinions are based on media coverage, and the media have a number of negativity biases. The nature of news selects for negative events because it reports what’s new and discrete enough to be a story. New, discrete events are more likely to be bad than good because there are many more ways for things to go wrong than for things to go right. And while bad things, like a terrorist attack or natural disaster, can happen quickly, positive things tend to be things that don’t happen or things that happen gradually, like the long-term decline in extreme poverty, the rise in literacy, and many other trends that you’ve written about.

Editors also feel more responsible if they emphasize negative stories over positive ones. I’ve heard one editor say, “Well, negative news is journalism, and positive news is advertising.” I think it was Stewart Brand who once said, more generally, that a pessimist sounds like he’s trying to help you, while an optimist sounds like he’s trying to sell you something. So, our picture of the country and the world as a whole is distorted both deliberately and accidentally by the very nature of news.

Let me mention one other thing. There really are problems in the world, to put it mildly, and some things have gotten worse in the last 10 or 20 years. But one has to have a quantitative, statistical, probabilistic view of the world to acknowledge the reality that things can get worse while still being better than they were historically, and that some things can get worse while other things are getting better.

You don’t conclude from something that genuinely has gotten worse that everything has gotten worse or that we’re in a worse situation now than we ever have been.

You mentioned literacy. Recently, I’ve been reading about freshmen entering university without basic reading and math skills. People are reading fewer books. Are we getting dumber, and is education an example of something that is worse than it was 40 or 50 years ago?

Yes, and it’s not the only example. The world’s democracy score has gone down in the last couple of decades. War deaths are worse now than they were 20 years ago, although still better than they were in the ’60s, ’70s, ’80s, and most of the ’90s. But yeah, educational scores have gone down. The Flynn effect, by which IQ scores rose for about three points a year for almost a century, has now gone in the other direction.

Now, that doesn’t mean that we’re back to the level that we were 100 years ago, but there’s been a bit of a droop. It may be that there are pathologies in our educational system, that the drive for equity and especially for equity across all racial groups has led to bringing down the top rather than raising the bottom. It could be that our schools of education have been training teachers to use the wrong methods. There’s also the fact that, while reading and literacy are good things, they are cognitively unnatural. We didn’t evolve with print; it’s a recent invention, and we’ve seen, especially in the last 10 years, that a lot of people prefer listening and watching to reading. Thanks to the massive availability of video, people may no longer be putting the effort into developing literacy, which we have reason to believe was one of the drivers of the Flynn effect and of cognitive sophistication in general.

My understanding is that the decline of reading and math scores is most severe at the low end. The smart students have not declined much, but weaker students have. So, it is a problem, and I think it’s a problem that ought to be addressed.

When it comes to the decline in reading books, there may be one other factor: the optimal length of a work of text may no longer be a book. I have found that, as a curious person, I can get lost in reading about things on Wikipedia like the history of the potato chip or transatlantic travel or planets. There’s just a flood of information out there and it’s all really interesting. And I say this with some embarrassment because I write books, and sometimes very long books, but for some kinds of information, it may be that a book has diminishing returns.

Let’s now look at other criticisms of human progress.

You and I had an article in The Free Press pushing back against the “crisis of meaning.” Have you ever seen any hard evidence suggesting that people’s lives are more meaningless in rich countries versus poor countries or that lives are less meaningful today than they used to be?

No, I haven’t.

We don’t have survey data on “How meaningful do you think life is?”, but meaning and happiness seem to be partially correlated. So, in general, people who are happier say their lives are more meaningful. But some sources of meaning are not the same as sources of happiness, and vice versa. Just to give a couple of examples, if you’re dedicating your life to some cause, there can be setbacks and frustrations that make you less happy, but you say your life is more meaningful compared to a life of pleasure and leisure. Time spent with friends is more pleasurable, while time spent with family is more meaningful. So, meaning and happiness are not perfectly correlated, but they are partially correlated.

Over the course of history, if you look at the whole range of countries, there has been more of an increase in happiness than a decrease. In countries that are very affluent, like the United States, there has not been an increase in happiness. We may be close to the ceiling. But overall, across the world, there’s reason to believe that happiness has increased, so that would suggest but not prove that there has not been a decline in meaningfulness.

Anecdotally, there have been complaints that life is meaningless as far back as you go. Ecclesiastes: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Henry David Thoreau in 1854: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” T.S. Eliot, 1920s: “We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men.” So, it’s a constant complaint, and the fact that people say it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true. It’s always tempting to think that life is meaningless. We like to think that there is a plan to the universe, and we get disillusioned when we find out there isn’t one. The laws of nature don’t tell any story with an ending. There are things built into the evolutionary process that guarantee that life is going to appear meaningless. There’s the law of entropy. Things fall apart and decay. We die, we get older, we weaken. Even our closest relationships are never perfect.

Now, I think the answer to that is to focus on human purposes, like not dying young, not getting shot, knowing more, experiencing art and culture, experiencing friendship, and seeing the world. But one has to reorient and realize that those are the goals of life and not expect that the universe itself tells a satisfying story.

People often look at proxies for meaning, such as anxiety and suicide. There seems to be some evidence that rich countries have higher rates of anxiety than poor countries. Of course, definitions can change and expand. Trauma used to mean being bombed by the Germans; today, it may be that you are breaking up with your boyfriend or girlfriend.

Do you have any sense as to how reliable the data on anxiety and trauma is?

There’s certainly been some diagnostic category creep. I’ve seen this in my own students. There’s an eagerness to diagnose oneself, sometimes with bogus diagnoses like autism for introversion. There’s a funny kind of cachet to having a pathology. But looking retrospectively at surveys, I think there probably has also been, on top of that, some increase in anxiety since the late 1950s.

Some of that may be that we’re taking on more responsibilities and adding to our anxiety burden. When I think back to my parents in the 1950s, there were a lot of things that they just never thought about. Are they getting enough exercise? Are they exposing themselves to skin cancer risk by going out in the sun? The state of the climate, inequality. Most people didn’t think about these things.

Jean Twenge and Jon Haidt have been trying to make the case that social media, especially through smartphones, has led to a genuine rise in anxiety, particularly in younger people. There’s some controversy there over cause and effect—maybe anxious and depressed kids turn to social media—but there seems to be at least some evidence that suggests causation.

Let me offer to our listeners what I consider to be the strongest argument in favor of rational optimism.

The clearest sign of unhappiness is when you kill yourself. Here in the United States, we’ve had an increase in suicides, but suicides are dropping in most, if not all, other rich countries. So, it seems there is a particular American pathology rather than a general pathology in prosperous countries. What’s wrong with this argument?

When I report on violence, I usually concentrate on homicide, simply because homicide is the most objective measure of violence. A dead body is hard to argue away, and people record homicides pretty accurately, so it’s the best indicator of violence. By extension, one might think that suicide would be the best indicator of unhappiness. But, partly to my surprise, that doesn’t seem to be right.

There is more ambiguity in how officials record suicide deaths. For example, when there’s a stigma against suicide, they’re often classified as accidents. Also, as best as we can tell, there’s not an excellent correlation between the suicide rate and national unhappiness. There’s even what some researchers call the suicide-unhappiness paradox, which is that countries where people are happier can sometimes have higher suicide rates, partly for the same reason that suicide rates increase around Christmas: if you look around and everyone is happy and you’re not, then you really think you’re a loser.

Suicide rates are also driven by contagion and by how easy it is to commit suicide. I quote the rather macabre poem by Dorothy Parker: “Guns aren’t lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful, you might as well live.” Suicide went way down in Britain when they changed the composition of cooking gas from coal gas to methane, which is not toxic.In developing countries, access to pesticides, a common method of suicide, has a big effect on actual rates. And in the United States, the availability of guns seems to be one of the drivers.

So, there are a lot of puzzles with suicide rates. But generally, I think it’s important to point out, as you do, that suicide rates are actually dropping globally, especially in poorer countries, but also in many rich countries. The United States is something of an anomaly. Since the 1990s, when the Global Burden of Disease project began to collect data, suicide has gone down by about 40 percent. A lot of that is thanks to urbanization. When a woman is put into an arranged marriage and leaves her village for the village of her husband, where she is dominated by her in-laws and has no friends and no way of escaping, that leads to a lot of suicides. In a more modern urban culture where you kind of have more freedom, there’s less desperation. So globally, modernization and urbanization have led to falling suicide rates.Even in the United States, suicide rates went down until the mid to late 1990s. That was a low point, and they’ve been rising since then, but it’s not as if they’ve been inexorably rising over the last century.

Those are very good caveats, thanks for introducing that nuance.

One thing that you and I discussed in our Free Press article was the criticism that meaninglessness in the West is driven in part by falling religiosity. A defender of religion might say that religion is essentially a cognitive or cultural technology for producing responsibility, happiness, restraint, and gratitude. So, if you remove religion, you may be making people more irresponsible, more unhappy, less restrained, and less grateful.

What do you think about that argument?

There is a need for community institutions and organizations that bring people together, that discuss meaning and morality, and that are a locus for collective action. The problem is that if you bundle that with theology, miracles, scripture, and invisible agents, it just isn’t going to be convincing anymore.

Religion wasn’t taken away from people; people left religion. In every developed country, there’s been a move away from organized religion. The churches are still around, and no one’s stopping people from attending; they just don’t find that religion gives them meaning and purpose. This is partly because the institutions themselves have not been sources of morality or meaning. The Roman Catholic Church with its sex abuse scandals, evangelical Protestantism in the United States with its embrace of far-right politics, the subordinate role of women in the more conservative religions like Orthodox Judaism—these are just turn-offs.

I’m gonna quote G. K. Chesterton, who is supposed to have said that when men stop believing in God, they don’t believe in nothing, they believe in anything. A 2021 national survey found that young Americans are more likely to believe in witchcraft, luck, black magic, and spell casting.

What do you make of the argument that Christianity keeps the belief in black magic and witchcraft at bay?

A few things. The witch hunts of the 16th century were a Christian movement. I mean, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” is in the Christian Bible. I also think Chesterton was wrong about the idea that people who are more religious are also more open to astrology, ESP, the paranormal, crystal healing, and other kinds of New Age woo-woo. I don’t think it’s true as a general correlation.

The data that you cite on openness to paranormal beliefs is interesting. I’ve never reported this, but I’ve looked at trends in the belief in devils, ESP, precognition, curses, and all kinds of paranormal things. As best as I can tell, it’s been pretty flat since the 1970s.

Something to be aware of is that there are different ways in which societies can change, and quantitatively, it’s not always easy to tell them apart. There can be a cohort effect, that is, as one generation replaces another, that generation has beliefs that they carry with them as they age; a period effect, where everyone changes their beliefs; or a life cycle event where, as people age, they change their beliefs. As best I can tell, what you cited is largely an age effect. Younger people are more open to woo-woo and magic than older people. So, I think those data are correct, but don’t necessarily mean that societies have become more open to the paranormal.

One way or another, there is a sizable chunk of the population that is attracted to the supernatural or transcendental, the so-called God-shaped hole in the human heart. Critics say that irreligious people are offering a meaningless, cold universe without a purpose, and that people really need some form of transcendence to make sense of their lives.

What do you think of that argument?

I think it’s literally wrong in the sense that people’s craving for meaning and purpose isn’t shaped like a God. In fact, that argument is sometimes used to explain the rise of wokeness, that religion was replaced with the idea that differences between groups are a moral emergency, and you have to find the oppressors responsible and punish them. There’s no God in any of that.

Granted, many people do search for transcendence, but kids like to believe in Santa Claus. That belief doesn’t have to be indulged. Kant’s definition of the Enlightenment was man’s escape from his self-imposed childhood. Part of growing up involves some hard lessons, like the universe is a cold place, and it doesn’t care about you. That does not mean life is meaningless, because the fact that the universe doesn’t care about you doesn’t mean that other humans don’t care about you or that we don’t have to care about other humans. We have a purpose, which is to make people as well off as possible, to increase flourishing, to increase knowledge, life, health, freedom, and safety. These are really meaningful goals that I don’t think should leave you empty.

Without religion, what is the basis of morality? Where does morality come from if not from man being created in the image of God?

Well, man being created in the image of God doesn’t give you a whole lot of morality. If you look at the Old Testament, God is commanding the Israelites to rape, massacre, and mutilate their enemies, while there are religious prescriptions against mixing linen and cotton, lighting a fire on Saturday, and other crazy stuff that has nothing to do with morality as we could argue for it.

Conversely, I think the obvious source of morality is some kind of Golden Rule. The way we teach kids to be moral is we say, “How would you like that if someone did that to you?” The logical basis of mortality is that, as long as I’m not the galactic overlord and my fate depends on other people, I’ve got to agree to some sort of social contract that treats us as equivalent. That’s why versions of the Golden Rule have been independently discovered by many different cultures.

Here’s the most common counterargument I hear to that point of view: it is very well for an intelligent professor who reads a lot of books to derive moral principles from reciprocity, reason, and self-interest, but ordinary people don’t think like that.

What’s wrong with just picking an oven-ready set of moral norms off the shelf, like those presented by modern Christianity, which have been made more humane over time? You don’t have to do much thinking, for which you might not have time or ability.

Well, I think that could be a means to an end, but one must keep in mind what the end is, which is humanistic morality that we can justify. As we know, religions can contain off-the-shelf moralities such as “kill anyone who insults the prophet Muhammad,” “execute blasphemers or gay people,” or “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

Now there are religions guided by humanistic, enlightenment, universalist principles, such as some of the liberal Protestant denominations and Reform Judaism. I don’t oppose keeping some symbolism and ritual if the institution has moved in a humanistic direction. Maybe that would be a good thing.

A somewhat different criticism of progress has to do with status competition, essentially the idea that no matter how much things get better, ultimately, as you once again put it in your book, men don’t contend with the dead but with the living.

Are our efforts at Human Progress bound to fail because people care about relative rather than absolute improvements in life?

I love that Hobbes quote. He introduces it by saying there’s a natural reverence for antiquity because men contend with the living, not with the dead. That is, intellectuals and moralists will tend to revere earlier eras and bemoan the present era because complaining about the present is another way of complaining about your contemporaries, who are your rivals. That’s another reason there is a negativity bias.

That’s an aside on elite status competition, but we all compare ourselves to others. So, in that sense, there won’t ever be a utopia. People will always compare themselves to others and be less happy than they ought to be. Still, it’s worth working toward progress. Even if you’re a spoiled first-world brat, it’s still better that you live to 80 instead of 55. It’s still better that your kids don’t die. It’s still better to travel the world instead of being confined to your village.

There’s a quote on my wall from a psychologist called Richard Layard that reads, “One secret of happiness is to ignore comparisons with people who are more successful than you are. Always compare downwards, not upwards.”

How do we go about explaining to people that it’s okay that there is always going to be somebody who is taller, smarter, and more handsome than you are?

You’re right that this is a piece of wisdom we’d be better off having, but it’s not easy to engineer. Some features of culture are very bottom-up. They can be influenced by education and by the messages that we give children, but no one’s really in charge; it’s the result of millions of people interacting with each other every day. However, we shouldn’t abdicate our responsibility for what we teach kids. We can do our part and try to nudge them in the right direction.

Blog Post | Progress Studies

Critiques of Progress, Pt. 1: The Revolt against Modernity

Some say the modern world could be better. Others say it is rotten at the core.

Summary: Today marks the launch of a new series of essays on HumanProgress.org written by Dr. Steven Davies titled Critiques of Progress. Each of the fifteen essays in this monthly series will examine the origins, nature, and validity of recurring critiques of the modern world. This introductory essay distinguishes between two broad critiques of modernity and explains which one this series will address and why.


Today’s world is one of liberal modernity, the result of a transformative process dating back to the end of the 17th century. This process has brought enormous benefits to everyone alive today, as well as many who lived during the three centuries leading up to today. The most obvious benefit is the dramatic rise in average incomes over that period, especially globally. This rise in real incomes (and therefore living standards and material conditions) has no precedent in human history. It also started slowly and in a limited part of the globe, but it has accelerated and spread to almost every location, not steadily, but nonetheless in a progressive fashion.

However, while liberal modernity has improved human life, rising living standards are foundational but not the most important. More significant are the second-order consequences of economic growth and rising living standards, which are related but distinct. Second-order effects include a dramatic increase in the range of life options and ways of life available to ordinary people, a decline in crime and violence, a transformative change in the status and life experience of women, and improved health outcomes for people of all ranks and positions. Independent but related benefits include the enormous increase in our knowledge about, and understanding of, the natural world, and the increased sociability that comes from the shift from a rural society where most lived in small communities to a majority urban society where an increasing share of the global population lives in large cities or towns.

All of that is a transformation in the extent and variety of human flourishing. It is, by many ethical standards, the biggest improvement in human life in recorded history. Nevertheless, the modern world has as many critics as celebrants, in fact even more so. For every author or artist celebrating that things are better for most people than ever before, several complain and paint the contemporary world, or parts of it, in dark colors. At first glance, this chorus of criticism might seem united and singular, but a closer look reveals something more interesting.

On examination, criticisms of the modern world fall into two broad categories. The first are those we could call “Yes, but…”. In these arguments, critics accept the modern world as good, or at least better than what came before. Critics argue that, despite that, the modern world is deeply flawed: it is marked by deep inequality or injustice, harms the environment, or is plagued by persistent poverty, for example. In these arguments, the positive agenda is to say that the modern world needs to do better or radically reform in some way to realize its promise. It is better than the pre-modern world but has a foundational flaw that needs correction (private property and capitalism are the most common examples, but critics also cite the continued existence of the state and systemic advantages and disadvantages). These criticisms of modernity can be described as radical (or, in their milder versions, reformist).

The obvious example is Marxism. For the German philosopher Karl Marx, capitalist modernity was undoubtedly progressive at first and a clear improvement on feudalism, let alone slavery. He saw the modern world of his time as transitional, moving toward a truly liberated future where all human potential would be realized. The point of his criticisms of bourgeois society and modernity was that they had inherent contradictions and injustices that would be resolved through a dialectical process of historical development. That made the modern world unjust and flawed but also necessary and, in many ways, progressive. It was the contrast between the actuality of the modern world and what he saw as its potential that sparked his ire. He never had anything but the deepest contempt, forcefully expressed, for the apologists of the pre-modern world (as also for those whose objections to the modern world were founded in ethics rather than a ‘scientific’ approach like his own).

However, from the very first intimations of the modern world in the 1690s and 1700s, a second category of critiques emerged, of a very different type. These analyses and polemics argue that something about modernity is at least deeply regrettable, or (more often) profoundly bad. They argue that key aspects of modernity, including the ones listed earlier, should be morally condemned because of their harmful consequences for people and the natural world. The point is that these arguments don’t argue that the modern world is good but flawed, or potentially good but failing to realize that potential. Instead, they reject the modern world tout court and see the modernization process as a tragic wrong turn for all of humanity. That is a much more fundamental critique than the first type.

This second category is also more widespread, though you might not realize it because these critiques and the movements they inspire either attract little attention from scholars or are misrepresented as belonging to the first category. In reality, critiques, movements, and analyses of this kind appear in every society that begins to modernize and seem to be one of the most universal responses to that process. What is striking is how the same specific themes and arguments recur across contexts and societies that are otherwise wildly different. Ian Buruma and Avishai Margalit captured that in a remarkable little book, Occidentalism, published in 2004. They framed their work as a response to Edward Said’s Orientalism and presented the ideas and movements they analyzed as driven by a negative stereotype of “the West.” In reality, what they identified was the recurring tropes and arguments of anti-modernity (their framing came from the notion that modernization was identical to westernization – understandable but incorrect).

Buruma and Margalit captured how movements such as anti-imperialism, Japanese nationalism, 19th-century romanticism, and fascism, as well as individual intellectuals of many kinds, produced similar arguments against the world the modernization process produced and even employed similar rhetoric. This suggests that the shock of modernity triggers a similar response and analysis across traditional or pre-modern societies, regardless of how different those societies might be. These responses and arguments are not limited to political arguments and polemics. In fact, they are even more widespread in literature, historiography, and the arts. Many of the most important cultural figures of the last two centuries are associated with them; one could point to Wagner, Dostoyevsky, Ruskin, and T. S. Eliot, for example. In more popular culture we could cite authors such as Lovecraft, C. S. Lewis, Tolkien, or any number of writers of fantasy and adventure fiction.

The point is that this second category of criticisms of modernity attacks the very idea and foundational features of the modern. What most people, including the first kind of critic, would celebrate is seen as something to regret or deplore. A common theme is that the modern world, or main and essential aspects of it, are incompatible with human nature, with what it is to be human and to live a truly human life. If the more familiar kinds of critique can be labelled “radical” then these can be described as “conservative” or “reactionary.” We should be cautious about those terms, however. Although many of the exponents did indeed see themselves as conservatives or reactionaries, many did not.  They are not often seen as radical opponents of the status quo – although increasingly, as time passed, that is what they were. Many also regret modernity but see it as irreversible and argue for “reactionary modernism,” in which high technology and science combine with deeply anti- or pre-modern beliefs and social structures. This kind of view is found in people as varied as fascists and Nazis, ante-bellum fire-eaters, and many nationalist movements.

What are some examples of the family of arguments we are speaking of here? To give a few: that the modern world is godless and denies the transcendent; that it degrades the nature and meaning of personal relationships, making them ephemeral and insignificant; that it destroys the concept of honor and a whole range of virtues, replacing them with base materialism; that it undermines true connection between people and true community for a deracinated individualism; that it destroys excellence in the name of bland equality and uniformity; that it separates humans from the natural world; that it destroys true masculinity and femininity and the proper relations between men and women; and that it cuts the connection between people and places, rendering all of us rootless.

Over the next fourteen essays, we will explore the second kind of critique of progress and other arguments, examining what lies behind them, the forms they take, and why they are sometimes factually incorrect and usually grounded in false moral principles. We are familiar with the first kind of critique, but increasingly we need to address these more foundational and fundamental ones.

Blog Post | Communications

What If Smartphones Aren’t Killing Romance, but Saving It?

Smartphones did not start the decline in dating and fertility, but they may help reverse it.

Summary: Smartphones are often accused of weakening romance and contributing to falling birth rates, even though many of these trends began before smartphones became widespread. Most new couples now meet online, and digitally formed relationships can be just as stable and satisfying as those formed offline. As AI improves matchmaking, smartphones may become even more effective at bringing compatible partners together.


My husband and I met in the same academic building where my parents first met decades earlier as students.

When we recently returned to that spot around our 10th wedding anniversary, we joked with our children that if they attended the same college, perhaps they’d meet their future spouses in that very building, too. Part of me hopes they do. It would make for a cute family story across generations.

But statistically, I know they’re far more likely to one day find love with the help of an online matchmaker. That doesn’t make me sad. I think of the couples I know who met online. They were brought together by an algorithm, yet their marriages are no less happy, and their children are no less loved because of it.

Some, however, lament this new mode of family formation. Others contend, more despairingly, that humanity is about to “scroll its way out of existence,” believing that smartphones are a drag on fertility. Are these devices replacing in-person interaction, romantic relationships, and children?

Most Couples Meet Online

The available research suggests smartphones have become the most common way couples meet, which makes them one of the most powerful matchmaking technologies ever built.

According to research from Stanford University, in 2021 more than 50% of new U.S. couples met online, a category that includes meeting through digital forums, social media and dating apps.

That may actually understate the role of technology as an effective matchmaker. The Stanford data also appear to show a post-2010 rise in couples first meeting in “bars and restaurants,” but according to the researchers, that “is due entirely to couples who met online and subsequently had a first in-person meeting at a bar or restaurant.”

A 2024 survey of nearly 8,000 newly engaged couples similarly found dating apps were the single most common way they met, ahead of every offline route. That survey, from The Knot, an online wedding services platform, found couples first connected through a variety of different dating apps including Hinge, Tinder, Bumble, OkCupid, Match, Plenty of Fish and eHarmony.

Technology has long been blamed for inadvertently hindering family formation. Recent research from Northwestern University suggests the typewriter may have lowered birth rates by bringing more women into the workforce. Yet the same research also suggests the typewriter led to many “office romance” marriages — and, presumably, many children.

Today, technology continues to bring couples together. Smartphones are increasingly accused of fueling the global decline in fertility, but the evidence that smartphones reduce fertility is weaker than many think. For example, some economists point out that most of Italy’s fertility decline preceded smartphone adoption.

Studies on average marital satisfaction between couples who met online and offline show mixed results, but some research suggests slightly higher marital satisfaction among the former as well as slightly less separation and divorce. Digital introductions can lead to lasting partnerships, and divorce rates are at their lowest point in half a century. That trend is driven by highly committed married millennials, many of whom met their spouse online.

Although dating apps and other online mechanisms are the leading way couples first connect, there is still significant room for improvement. Rates of couple formation (and, consequently, fertility) declined across many countries, even though most single young adults say they are aspiring toward marriage.

Some would blame the phones. Yet, some data shows a decline in teen dating that predates smartphones, starting in the early 1990s. And research suggests the widespread adoption of online dating between 2008 and 2021 had remarkably little effect on individuals’ romantic preferences or selectivity — that is, their pickiness — to the researchers’ surprise. Nonetheless, many singles still struggle to meet the right person.

Traditional matchmakers are expensive, but AI holds the promise of dramatically lowering the cost and democratizing access to high-quality, personalized matchmaking as well as enhancing matchmaking through higher success rates.

The race is already on to harness AI to improve digital courtship. For example, the company Keeper AI bills itself as “AI-assisted matchmaking for serious, long-term relationships” and claims that with their app, “1 in 10 first dates lead to marriage.” Other new AI-powered dating platforms include Known and Overtone.

Older dating apps also aim to improve their effectiveness with AI. Earlier this year, Bumble introduced an AI-powered profile guidance feature providing users with feedback on their bios, and plans to entirely replace swiping with AI-based matchmaking later this year in select markets. Meta similarly says its AI assistant for Facebook Dating helps users optimize their profiles and highlight their best qualities to appeal to potential matches.

Smartphones and dating apps are frequently criticized for undermining traditional courtship and contributing to declining fertility. Yet if they were to suddenly disappear, couple formation would likely suffer, given that most couples now first meet online. Smartphones, perhaps paradoxically, act as vital family-formation infrastructure in the modern world.

This article appeared on Deseret News on August 23, 2026.

Blog Post | Human Development

From Stone Tablets to Solid-State Drives

Civilization has advanced by learning to preserve more knowledge with less matter.

Summary: Human progress depends not only on discovering knowledge but also on preserving and transmitting it. From stone tablets to printed books and solid-state drives, storage media have become vastly lighter, denser, and faster. Over five thousand years, humanity has increased data density by trillions, making accumulated knowledge cheaper and more accessible than ever.


The astonishing conveniences and prosperity of modern civilization rest on two pillars: our mastery of energy and our relentless discovery of knowledge. Yet, discovering new knowledge alone was not enough for civilizational progress. To accumulate and build on discoveries across generations, humanity needed a way to encode knowledge onto a medium outside of our collective nervous system. From etching hieroglyphs into stone to digitally controlling electrons in modern solid-state drives (SSDs), humanity’s advancement in creating affordable, lightweight, and reliable data storage is astonishing.

Before the invention of written language, people usually transmitted knowledge orally. Fables and other knowledge had to be memorized and accurately recited to pass from one generation to the next. Transmitting knowledge this way, where data is stored only in the human mind, risks significant data loss. When Joe Huntergatherer, the only member of the tribe who had memorized the story of the Great Elder, was killed by an arrow, that story was forever lost. The fragility of oral transmission is why almost all human history, spanning hundreds of thousands of years, is lost to the erosive sands of time.

The invention of writing, the ability to etch, carve, or paint characters onto clay tablets, stone, and cave walls, allowed humans, for the first time, to store information outside the brain. The first clay inscriptions with readable script date from ~3,400 B.C. So long as another person was trained to interpret the inscribed hieroglyphs, characters, or letters, that knowledge was no longer subject to fallible human memory. However, stone inscriptions had relatively low information density.

To create a formula to measure the data density of storage media over time, I convert characters (letters and punctuation) into bits of information, then divide by the number of grams of matter needed to encode that information. A bit is a single binary digit, a zero or one, and roughly eight bits make up a single character. (View these calculations not as precise figures, but as order-of-magnitude approximations, since data density varies considerably from stone to book to drive.)

Let’s begin with stone engravings, using the famous Rosetta Stone as an example. The Rosetta Stone weighs roughly 750kg and contains the same text in three languages: Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs on top, Egyptian Demotic script in the middle, and Ancient Greek on the bottom. To estimate the data density, I focused on the Greek portion of the stone, which accounts for roughly 1/3 of the stone’s total weight (about 250kg).

No source I could find provided a reliable count of the surviving Greek characters, so I calculated it twice independently. First, I compared a 19th-century publication’s line-by-line count with a high-resolution photo of the stone, which puts the original, undamaged text at about ~7,290 characters. Adjusting that figure for the approximately 20 percent of the stone that’s damaged or missing gives an estimated ~5,832 surviving characters. Second, I ran an AI optical character count directly off the damaged stone, which returned ~5,800. The two methods are close, so I use ~5,800 characters going forward.

Since a single character of text equates to about 8 bits of information, the surviving 5,800 characters store 46,400 bits of data. Divided by the 250kg weight of the Greek portion, we arrive at a data density for the Rosetta Stone of ~0.19 bits/g.

With the discovery of agriculture and the rise of agrarian civilizations, the demands for knowledge storage and transmission media grew. The human population expanded, and a small but notable fraction began to congregate in small towns. As social and economic complexity grew, so did administration, trade, tax, and legal systems. Humans needed an easy way to perform and store the outputs of mathematical calculations, record taxes, and codify rules and regulations for personal and business conduct. Agrarian civilization, in short, demanded a storage medium with higher information density and faster read/write speeds (throughput). Enter papyrus, parchment, and paper.

Early forms of “paper” included papyrus and animal-skin materials like parchment and vellum. Papyrus was made from the papyrus plant, which grew in the Nile Delta in ancient Egypt. To make papyrus, strips of the plant were cut, laid into overlapping layers, and then pressed and dried into sheets. Papyrus was first used for writing as early as 2,500 B.C. and was one of the primary writing materials for thousands of years. Compared with stone, papyrus was far more data-dense; we could fit more characters on a given surface area, the substrate was lighter, and it could be folded or rolled into a scroll.

Parchment, made from cleaned and stretched animal skin, was developed long after papyrus and, thanks to its superior durability, quickly became the medium of choice for important documents. The Magna Carta, made from parchment, contains about 3,500 words or ~25,000 characters, which equates to about 200,000 bits of information. Medieval parchment weighs about 100–180 g/m², meaning the Magna Carta weighs roughly 50 grams. Using our formula, the Magna Carta’s data density comes out to around 4,000 bits/g.

Even the Magna Carta pales in comparison to modern paper with printed text. “Paper”, the flexible plant-fiber sheets we know of today, was invented in China as far back as the 2nd century B.C.. It took centuries for it to spread outside China. Paper could be made thinner and lighter than parchment or papyrus, and the printing press made it possible to fit more words on a sheet. The King James Bible, for instance, contains around 789,000 words. That’s roughly 4.3 million characters, or 34,400,000 bits of data. A standard hardcover Bible weighs about 1 kg. Even if we conservatively include the weight of the binding, the information density comes to ~34,400 bits/g, about 8.6 times the density of the Magna Carta.

Our eyesight is limited, and text can only be so small before we can no longer resolve it. The next revolution in data storage came in the form of more exotic “machine-readable” media. Examples include magnetic storage such as hard drives and magnetic tape. Here, data is encoded on magnetized material directly as bits of information – ones and zeros – by carefully controlling the polarity of magnetic domains. This technology was a wondrous breakthrough, and it’s still improving. Today, for a few hundred dollars, you can purchase a hard drive that can store tens of terabytes of data! A commercially available 10TB HDD that weighs ~1500 g can store ~80 trillion bits of data, a data density of ~53 billion bits/g, 1.54 million times higher than the King James Bible.

Yet today, hard disk drives already feel antiquated. Instead, most phones, desktops, tablets, and external drives use solid-state storage (SSDs). It’s easy to see why SSDs have become so dominant in recent years; they are ideal for mobile devices. They have no moving parts, are more durable, use less energy, and still have higher data density. Solid-state media store data by trapping electrons in a grid of floating-gate transistors to represent bits of information. A commercially available 4TB (~32 trillion bits) SSD weighs 32 grams; a data density of 1 trillion bits/g, about 19 times higher than a comparable hard drive, or about 5.3 trillion times the data density of the Rosetta Stone!

Commensurate with improvements in data density came higher read/write speeds, or “throughput.” People read about 4 words a second and with an average word length of around 5 characters; that’s about 160 bits per second. A professional stone carver might be able to write up to 20 letters an hour, or about 0.044 bits per second. Paper and paper-like media dramatically increased writing speed. A human writes about 1.1 characters per second, or roughly 8.8 bits per second – 200 times faster than carving into stone, though still slower than reading. Printing machines, of course, could print text far faster than any human could write by hand.

But none of this compares to magnetic storage, such as modern hard drives, where read/write speeds (which are similar) are currently about 4.4 billion bits per second. SSDs are faster still, reaching read/write speeds up to 112 billion bits per second. That’s about 700 million times faster than reading, and nearly 13 billion times faster than writing by hand, roughly 2.5 trillion times faster than carving into stone!

In roughly five thousand years, we’ve pushed the density of our storage media up by a factor of trillions, and the leaps keep coming faster. It took five millennia to get from stone to the printed page, representing a 180,000-fold gain in data density. In the seventy years since the invention of the hard drive, and with SSDs, humanity has multiplied that density by another 29 million times. For perspective, the text of the King James Bible carved in stone would weigh around 185 tons, nearly as much as a Boeing 747 (without fuel). On an SSD, it weighs less than a grain of sand.

Blog Post | Happiness & Satisfaction

First-World Problems Were Once an Emperor’s Problems

Stoicism is even more relevant now that abundance has become commonplace.

Summary: Marcus Aurelius faced temptations that feel surprisingly modern: comfort, excess, distraction, and uncertainty about how to use freedom well. His reflections offer one way to think about the psychological challenges of abundance, including the difficulty of balancing pleasure, purpose, and responsibility. As prosperity makes scarcity less central to everyday life, people must find new sources of meaning in work, relationships, service, and self-directed goals.


“In the morning when thou risest unwillingly,” Marcus Aurelius instructed himself, remember that “I am rising to the work of a human being.”

The most powerful man in the world did not want to get out of bed.

Book Five of Meditations begins with the Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher arguing with himself under the covers. Staying warm is more pleasant, he admits. Rest is necessary too. But nature has placed limits on rest, just as it has on eating and drinking. The problem, Marcus observes, is that he exceeds those limits when pleasure is involved and “stoppest short” when there is work to do.

Strip away the second-century diction, and this could be a transcript of someone bargaining with an alarm clock before a morning workout. Marcus tells himself to get up, stop overeating, do his job, and quit pretending that comfort is the purpose of life. Two thousand years later, we buy books and download podcasts that tell us the same things.

That helps explain Stoicism’s extraordinary revival. Annual sales of Meditations reportedly rose from around 12,000 copies in 2012 to 100,000 in 2019. Modern Stoic writer Ryan Holiday has sold millions of books to an audience spanning professional athletes, politicians, technology executives, and ordinary people trying to exercise before work. An ancient philosophy of self-command has found a mass market because the problems of self-command have found a mass market.

Marcus did not live an easy life. He ruled during frontier wars and the Antonine Plague. Several of his children died young. Much of Meditations was written to and for himself, apparently while on military campaign. But he also experienced a class of surprisingly recognizable “first-world problems” back when they were much rarer: too much food, too little movement, diffuse anxiety, irritation with other people, uncertain purpose, and the temptation to let comfort consume a life.

First-world problems were once emperor-world problems.

Marcus practiced a form of what psychologists today call cognitive reappraisal: changing an emotional response by changing how one thinks about something. When confronted with an elaborate meal, he reminded himself it is just a dead animal. Falernian wine, among the most prized luxuries in Rome, is “only a little grape juice.” Imperial purple, Rome’s finest clothing material, is just sheep’s wool stained with shellfish blood. The exercise, he explained in Book Six, was to strip away the prestige surrounding an object and see it clearly.

Marcus needed the Stoic operation because he inhabited an unusual ecology of evolutionary mismatch, much like that found in the developed world today.

For nearly all human history, calories were costly, physical exertion was unavoidable, and rest conserved energy that might be needed later. Today, the time prices of food are so low that many can afford a day’s worth of calories in under an hour of labor, all while working sitting down in an indoor climate-controlled environment. Many of us pay for gyms and manufacture strenuous movements that resemble pointless labor because ordinary survival no longer supplies enough activity.

The same principle extends beyond food and exercise. Humans evolved to monitor threats in a local environment. For most of history, only emperors and a small governing elite received a steady stream of dispatches from distant lands. Couriers and envoys brought Marcus news of wars, revolts, epidemics, and political intrigue from across the known world. Now a phone or TV news channel supplies every catastrophe on Earth in real time. And in economic life, we apply evolved intuitions built for small-group scarcity and zero-sum rivalry that fail to scale to modern global markets.

In 1930, John Maynard Keynes foresaw these problems of prosperity. Writing during the Great Depression, he predicted that technological improvement and compound growth could raise living standards to such a degree that we would be free from material scarcity. Once the absolute needs were met, humanity would confront what he called its “real, permanent problem”: how to use freedom from pressing economic cares “to live wisely and agreeably and well.”

Brink Lindsey borrows Keynes’s phrase for his recent book, The Permanent Problem. Lindsey argues that wealthy liberal democracies now occupy an awkward territory between mass plenty and mass flourishing. Food, shelter, safety, education, and medicine are more available than ever, but people still need status, purpose, belonging, and the sense that their efforts matter.

Imperial wealth solved the economic problem for one man nearly eighteen centuries before markets and technology began solving it for whole populations. Once freed from many ordinary constraints, Marcus encountered the permanent problem early. What should he do with comfort? How much pleasure was enough? Why work when others could work for him? How could he remain useful when status had removed the need to prove himself useful?

Critics sometimes find it amusing that a philosophy of indifference to wealth attracts wealthy executives. But Stoicism’s new popularity is less paradoxical than it seems. Stoicism developed among people living close to power and abundance because power and abundance exposed problems that scarcity had concealed. The philosophy of an emperor becomes more relevant when ordinary people begin living, in important respects, like emperors.

Poverty has not disappeared. But the characteristic problems of affluent societies increasingly concern regulating access rather than enduring absence: eating less of the food surrounding us, moving more despite labor-saving technology, limiting entertainment, directing attention, choosing among options, and finding commitments strong enough to organize freedom.

Stoicism offers a useful set of psychological tools for the task of finding meaning and navigating abundance. Its distinction between what is and is not under our control redirects threat monitoring toward action. Its practice of stripping luxuries down to their physical components weakens the stories that amplify craving. Voluntary discomfort teaches the nervous system that cold, hunger, exertion, and inconvenience are tolerable. Gratitude resets the comparison point against which abundance otherwise becomes invisible. Remembering death makes us appreciate life’s finitude.

But Stoicism was never only a collection of tricks for feeling calmer or becoming more productive. Marcus did not drag himself from bed merely to clear his imperial inbox. He was rising to fulfill a human purpose, which for a Stoic meant acting rationally, socially, and for the common good. Meaning came from duty voluntarily embraced and service to something beyond appetite.

That fits the evolutionary account. Humans are not built only to consume calories and conserve energy. We also evolved to cooperate, master difficult skills, earn esteem, care for kin, reciprocate favors, contribute to groups, and navigate moral concerns that sometimes pull in different directions. The pragmatic response is to choose ecologies that activate the better angels of our nature: difficult work with visible progress, physical exertion, face-to-face relationships, responsibility for others, and problems whose solutions improve a community. Realistic progress works with evolved psychology instead of pretending human beings are blank slates.

Historically, only a tiny elite had enough food to struggle with gluttony, enough leisure to struggle with lethargy, and enough freedom to struggle with what freedom was for. Marcus repeatedly reminded himself that pleasure, technology, wealth, or leisure were not vices themselves. The problem was surrendering judgment to them. He could enjoy the palace without becoming its slave. Likewise, we can enjoy the supermarket, smartphone, washing machine, and weekend, while recognizing the new, preferable challenges that abundance creates.

Emperor-world problems are still problems, but it is a triumph that they are increasingly part of ordinary life.