By: Ali Syarief
“Where did your last real conversation happen?”
A simple question—yet it reveals a profound cultural unease. What was once a vibrant digital agora is now eerily quiet. Not for lack of users, but for lack of presence. Not because people left, but because people, as we know them—thinking, feeling, flawed beings—are being replaced by their mechanical proxies.
Across cultures, social media promised the same thing: connection. In Tokyo, it meant bridging hierarchical formalities through casual interaction. In Nairobi, it gave voice to the silenced. In São Paulo, it transformed street protests into global awareness. But the promise is fraying. Today, most comment sections across platforms resemble a sterile echo chamber: bots replying to bots, algorithms talking to themselves.
AI and the Fabric of Human Interaction
The rapid expansion of generative AI has led to an unprecedented flood of automated content. According to a 2024 report by MIT Technology Review, nearly 70% of all social media content is now machine-generated. Some platforms, particularly in Asia and Latin America, are already grappling with entire “bot farms” designed to simulate human engagement.
This is not merely a problem of spam—it’s a deeper erosion of the cultural foundation of digital life. In Indonesian digital culture, for example, the concept of ramé (liveliness or social vibrancy) once thrived in online spaces. But now, the ramé is hollow. In American contexts, where freedom of expression is prized, AI-generated echo chambers now distort the very idea of authentic discourse.
Scholars describe this trend as part of the Dead Internet Theory—a hypothesis suggesting that much of the internet’s activity is no longer human, but automated. As the late media theorist Jean Baudrillard might warn, we are entering a hyperreality where simulations are more dominant than reality itself.
A Quiet Exodus to the Private
In response, a quiet movement is underway. The most thoughtful creators, thinkers, and entrepreneurs—from Berlin to Jakarta—are retreating from public social platforms. Not out of elitism, but out of a hunger for sincerity.
They are building private communities: Slack groups, invite-only Discord servers, and email newsletters with actual replies. The conversation hasn’t died—it’s simply migrated. From the public square to the private salon. From algorithmic virality to curated intimacy.
Anthropologist Sherry Turkle calls these new spaces “digital sanctuaries.” These are not just tech solutions—they’re cultural responses to the noise of automation. In Japan, the rise of quiet, purpose-driven online communities mirrors the ethos of ikigai—a life of meaning. In Scandinavia, this movement aligns with lagom—a balanced, just-enough approach to interaction.
Connection is the New Luxury
In an age of frictionless communication, genuine connection has become a rare luxury. What used to be free—a kind word, a spontaneous thought, a shared experience—is now precious.
This paradox is visible across the world. In the U.S., mental health professionals note rising loneliness despite hyperconnectivity. In India, once-bustling WhatsApp family groups are being muted in favor of one-on-one conversations. In Brazil, public discourse on platforms like Twitter (now X) feels increasingly synthetic and disembodied.
As public spaces become performative, private spaces reclaim authenticity. The trend suggests not a death of digital culture, but a rebirth—on different terms, shaped by new values.
A Future of Simulacra?
Are we approaching a future where real conversations are reserved for the few, while the many drown in artificial chatter? If the internet is now more simulation than substance, then the question is no longer whether social media is dying—it is where, and how, real human presence can still exist.
Cross-culturally, the answer lies in recognizing what each society once hoped the internet would be—a reflection of its best human instincts—and finding new spaces to preserve that hope.
As the Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warned, “Stories matter. Many stories matter.” In a world of machine narratives, our human stories—unpolished, conflicting, beautifully real—may be the last thing keeping us grounded.
Epilogue: A Death that Awakens
The internet, it seems, is not truly dead. But it has become something we no longer recognize. And in that unfamiliar reflection, a new responsibility emerges: to rehumanize the digital—to seek not just visibility, but vitality.
Real conversations may have gone underground, but they are far from extinct.
