By: Ricardo Abud
We live in an age where technological frenzy seems to devour everything. Social media, instant messaging platforms, dating apps, and serialized content, in their perfect interweaving with the logic of the digital market, are radically transforming the way we connect. This has reached the point of threatening the very idea of relationships as we knew them.
Some voices denounce that this is not a spontaneous process, but rather a carefully designed process driven by economic, cultural, and technological interests. In this scenario, a model of fragile, fluid, superficial, and disposable relationships is deliberately promoted. The objective? To break away from the core of society, the family, and keep us dependent on digital consumption and trapped in an extreme individualism that perfectly serves the economic model of techno-feudalism.
Technofeudalism describes a system in which large technology platforms act as new feudal lords, accumulating power, data, and resources, while the population remains subordinated, fragmented, and surveilled. This is not a natural evolution of social mores, but the result of a deliberate process of social engineering that seeks to maximize digital consumption and fragment the traditional social fabric.
This system operates primarily through the capture and monetization of human attention. Digital platforms have perfected algorithms designed to generate behavioral addiction. Each notification, "like," or digital interaction activates the brain's reward circuits in a similar way to drugs.
Within this model, the emotional and relational sphere is not exempt. A stable partner, traditionally a source of emotional refuge and mutual support, is perceived almost as an obstacle to the constant flow of digital consumption. If we are attentive to our partner, to their gaze and their company, we reduce the time we spend on platforms that monetize every second of our attention. In contrast, if we inject ourselves with constant microdoses of dopamine through digital validation, we become much more profitable consumers.
This capture of attention is not a side effect, but the fundamental business model. When people are constantly connected to their devices, their ability to maintain deep and sustained relationships is compromised. Intimacy requires presence, and that presence has become a scarce resource. Stable, long-lasting relationships are, in this sense, bad business for the system.
Traditionally, romantic relationships were built in spaces and times dedicated exclusively to mutual interaction. Technofeudalism has colonized these spaces, introducing digital mediation even into the most intimate moments. The couple is no longer a closed unit, but an open system constantly traversed by external stimuli. This fragmentation generates what has been called "liquid love": relationships that constantly adapt to the fluctuations of the digital emotional marketplace, losing the solidity and commitment that characterized traditional bonds.
Contemporary series, films, media narratives, and cultural movements often promote the idea of open, polyamorous, or simply fleeting relationships as the desirable norm. There's nothing inherently wrong with exploring new ways of connecting if they're born from authentic freedom. However, when they're instrumentalized to legitimize more intense platform consumption and associated with a permanently unstable and anxious identity, suspicions of manipulation arise.
The "go with the flow and don't commit" discourse coincides, not at all innocently, with an attention economy that requires distracted, disoriented, and permanently available subjects to be captured by an algorithm. Fidelity, in this context, becomes almost a rarity. Infidelity, or non-exclusivity, is not only tolerated but encouraged as a symbol of freedom, when in reality it could be a reflection of an induced systemic loneliness.
The extreme individualism we observe is not a natural human characteristic, but rather the result of decades of cultural and economic conditioning. The digital capitalist system requires atomized individuals who relate to the world primarily as individual consumers, not as members of communities or stable couples. This individualism is promoted under the guise of empowerment, teaching us to prioritize them and to be our "best selves." Although autonomy has a positive component, it can turn into an emotional dead end: hyper-individualized beings, incapable of forging deep and lasting bonds, are left at the mercy of instant emotional commodities.
Without a community, without a partner, without a family, each individual is much more exposed to the market and technological consumption. They are the perfect consumer, completely atomized. The "I" has become the absolute center of the experience, but paradoxically, it is completely determined by external algorithms. Content personalization creates the illusion of autonomy, while in reality, decisions are made by artificial intelligence systems designed to maximize engagement.
Social media promises connection but creates isolation. It offers the possibility of connecting with thousands of people, but this multiplicity of superficial connections prevents the development of deep bonds. The result is a generation that is hyperconnected but profoundly lonely. This loneliness is not accidental; it is functional to the system, as isolated individuals are more vulnerable to commercial and political manipulation, more dependent on digital validation, and less able to organize collectively to resist power structures.
There is a deliberate promotion of certain relationship models through TV series, movies, and other cultural products. This isn't a conspiracy in the traditional sense, but rather the normal operation of industries that have identified that certain types of content generate more engagement and, therefore, more profit. Open relationships, polyamory, and other alternative relationship models are promoted not necessarily for their intrinsic merits, but because they generate more content, more drama, and more consumption opportunities. A stable couple who stays home reading together doesn't generate data for digital platforms.
The identity fragmentation we observe responds to a clear commercial logic: individuals without a solid identity are more susceptible to external influence. Every identity crisis is a market opportunity; every search for meaning can be monetized through products, services, or experiences. The system doesn't seek to resolve these crises, but rather to perpetuate them, because resolution would imply breaking the cycle of consumption. An individual who finds emotional and relational stability needs less external validation, consumes less, and is less easily manipulated.
Generations that have grown up in this digital ecosystem are losing basic skills for establishing deep relationships. The ability to tolerate boredom, to maintain long conversations without external stimuli, or to resolve conflicts through direct dialogue are atrophying. This is not just an individual loss, but a civilizational one. Relationships have historically been one of the basic nuclei of socialization and cultural transmission; their weakening implies a radical transformation in the way societies reproduce themselves culturally.
What was once exceptional (infidelity, breakups) is becoming normal, while fidelity and long-term commitment are perceived as anachronisms or even forms of oppression. This reversal is no accident. An economic system based on infinite growth and constant consumption is incompatible with relational stability. Long-term couples consume less, generate less data, and are less receptive to marketing strategies.
Historically, every economic model has reconfigured human relationships. Industrial capitalism shaped the nuclear family; postmodern capitalism promoted the ideal of the romantic couple linked to consumption and social advancement. Now, techno-feudalism seems to push toward dissolved, multiple, and superfluous relationships and identity crises, where stable connection is perceived as an anomaly. This doesn't mean that love will disappear, as human bonds are resilient. But it does mean that it is increasingly difficult to sustain deep relationships in an environment dominated by immediacy, overexposure, and constant distraction.
The question is uncomfortable: are we condemned to hyperconnected solitude? Or can we resist this model of affective technofeudalism?
Resistance to technofeudalism must begin with the recapture of attention. This implies not only the conscious use of technology, but also the creation of spaces and times completely free of digital mediation. Relationships that manage to establish these spaces of unmediated intimacy are, de facto, resisting the system.
Radical individualism is combated by building real communities that offer alternatives to the digital ecosystem. These communities cannot be merely nostalgic; they must be aware of the forces they are fighting against and develop specific strategies of resistance. Furthermore, it is essential to develop educational programs that explicitly teach the skills necessary to maintain deep relationships in a hostile environment, including education about the attention economy, algorithmic manipulation, and intimacy-building techniques.
While the forces of technofeudalism are powerful and well-organized, awareness of their existence and mechanisms is the first step toward resistance. The fundamental question is not whether our children will have partners, but what kind of relationships they will be able to build in a world designed to prevent it. The answer will depend on our ability to understand the forces at play and develop conscious strategies of resistance.
The future of human relationships is not predetermined. However, it will not arrive on its own; it requires deliberate, informed, and collective action to preserve and recreate the conditions that make authentic human intimacy possible in a world increasingly hostile to it. The battle for the future of human relationships is, ultimately, the battle for the kind of society we want to build. And that battle is fought, day in and day out, in the seemingly insignificant decisions about how to use our time, our attention, and our capacity to love.
We are in control, just press off, we solve our problems and take control of our lives again.
THERE IS NOTHING MORE EXCLUSIVE THAN BEING POOR.
0 Comentarios