Routine numbness is quietly spreading everywhere

May I say something both profound and absurd at the same time? North Americans may be losing the human impulse to change, evolve, and be transparent with one another. It’s not that people are unaware of their circumstances; it’s that awareness no longer guarantees action.

There was a time when boredom and dissatisfaction acted as catalysts. People felt stuck, and that discomfort forced movement. Today, many feel poor, underpaid, or uncertain about the future, and yet continue as before. Weeks become months. Months become decades. This condition (what might be called routine fodder) is a psychological state where repetition dulls urgency. It traps individuals in an orbit of unchanging numbness.

This numbness can persist indefinitely, until something disrupts it.

History offers examples. A Russian peasant at the turn of the 20^th century had four primary concerns: family, community, faith, and survival through labour. Then, far away in Moscow, revolution began to stir. Similarly, in pre-revolutionary France and early America, populations accustomed to hardship and routine were jolted into action by political upheaval. What changed was their perception of possibility.

Revolution, like any major conflict, creates a break in monotony. It offers meaning. It offers the chance (however illusory) to become heroic. The ordinary life is interrupted. The predictable is replaced with urgency. “Everyone wants to become a hero, right?” That desire, however simplistic, speaks to a deeper human need: to matter, to act, to break free from inertia.

Routine fodder is not confined to history. It exists here, now, in our neighborhoods. Many live nearly identical days: work, rest, repeat. Occasionally, a vacation interrupts the pattern, but only briefly. The underlying structure remains unchanged. Over time, the monotony drains energy. People feel tired, disengaged, and increasingly passive.

Some attempt to disrupt this cycle with new experiences, but the effect is temporary. Others cope through avoidance, seeking comfort in sleep, distraction, or harmful habits. These are not solutions; they are symptoms of a deeper dissatisfaction.

At the same time, modern society offers constant reassurance. Entrepreneurs, corporations, and institutions promote narratives of limitless opportunity. “Anyone can be a millionaire,” is a common refrain. These messages are often framed with optimism, but they can distort reality. For many, they create a gap between expectation and lived experience, a gap filled with frustration or quiet resignation.

Meaning is still sought in work, faith, family, and personal ambition. Yet reality is often softened or avoided altogether. The systems shaping daily life remain largely unquestioned.

This raises a fundamental question: who constitutes the working class today? If you work to generate profit for others, you are part of it. This includes not only labourers, but also managers and professionals who may not traditionally identify as workers. The distinction between classes has narrowed. Increasingly, it is less about categories and more about concentration of control: those who own significant resources and those who do not.

The rise of artificial intelligence introduces a new variable. Its integration into finance, logistics, education, and infrastructure suggests a future where fewer human workers are required. Tasks once performed by people: teaching, transportation, administration, may become automated. Efficiency will increase, but so may displacement.

This shift carries consequences. Employment structures may contract. Privacy may erode as systems become more centralized and data driven. For many, adaptation will require retraining, often without clear pathways or support.

From this perspective, artificial intelligence is a force reshaping the relationship between labour and power. Without thoughtful oversight, it risks deepening existing inequalities.

The concept of routine fodder may expand under these conditions. As systems become more automated and centralized, individual agency could diminish further. The danger is psychological. A population that feels both replaceable and immobile is one that struggles to act.

Skepticism toward technological change is not new. During the Industrial Revolution, similar fears emerged. That era produced both progress and profound inequality. It also gave rise to labour movements that sought to rebalance power.

Today, the struggle continues, though the dynamics have evolved. The central concern is no longer just industrial machinery, but unmonitored and unregulated artificial intelligence.

The question is not whether change is coming. It is whether people will recognize the moment and respond before routine hardens into permanence.