From Gods To Code: A Brief History Of Human Meaning

Forbes

29-05-2025

How to find purpose in an age where even our thinking and creativity can be outsourced to AI.
Fantasy Moon over ocean and mountain ridge, Far-side of the moon,Darkside of the Moon
Human beings are wired to seek meaning — a subjective sense that life is coherent, purposeful, and significant (even though, in objective terms, it is none of that). From early cognitive psychologists like Jerome Bruner, who argued that we create meaning through narrative, to modern neuroscientists studying the brain's default mode network, the consensus is clear: Meaning isn't a luxury, but a psychological necessity. Indeed, meaning helps us tolerate uncertainty, make sense of chaos, and stay motivated through suffering. It also helps us make sense of ourselves and develop a sense of identity.
Viktor Frankl compellingly illustrated that people can endure almost anything if they believe it has meaning. Referencing his own experiences in a Nazi concentration camp he noted 'Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'. Neurologically, meaning activates areas tied to reward, self-reflection, and emotion, integrating experiences into coherent stories. It's not given to us — we construct it, and often defend it, especially during crises. Cognitive and emotional systems work together to build and sustain these frameworks — through memory, identity, and perceived agency.
Empirical studies show people find meaning most often in relationships, purposeful work, personal growth, and even suffering — particularly when it's reframed. While past societies imported meaning from religion, tradition, or social roles, modern individuals must manufacture their own. This makes meaning deeply personal, but also vulnerable to fragmentation and disillusionment.
In the age of AI, where work, creativity, and cognition can be outsourced, we risk losing traditional sources of meaning without obvious replacements. With its impressive repertoire of synthetic knowledge, creativity, and intelligence, AI is forcing us to rethink what truly makes us human (in the sense of our unique capabilities and skills), and what it means to be human in an age in which we outsource even our thinking to machines. If machines can perform the tasks that once made us feel useful, valuable, and unique, what's left for us to build a life around? Furthermore, what does it mean to be human if we can be without thinking?
In every era, humans have asked some version of the same question: Why am I here, and what is this all for? It's the same existential riddle posed by philosophers and pop culture alike — from Nietzsche to Tony Montana, who, after climbing the capitalist mountain in Scarface, asks what's left beyond the pile of cocaine and paranoia. Or Citizen Kane's dying whisper of 'Rosebud,' a child's sled standing in for a lost, possibly meaningless life.
While the human quest of meaning is perennial, the answers have changed as dramatically as our technology, politics, and hairstyles — from gods and rituals to careers and personal brands. As AI begins to take over not just our labor, but our thinking, our creativity, and our productivity, we're left asking whether meaning itself can be outsourced, and found just one click or prompt away.
To understand the scale of this moment, it helps to zoom out — way out — and trace the evolution of meaning across time. Below is a brief intellectual history of what humans have lived for, and how those sources of purpose have shifted with each transformation in how we live and work.
1. Mythic & Tribal Meaning (Prehistory – 600 BCE)
Slogan: We are one with the gods.
In humanity's earliest chapters, meaning was not something you found — it was something you were born into. Life was interpreted through the lens of nature, spirits, and ancestors. The world was enchanted, alive with gods, totems, and unseen forces. Purpose was communal and ritualistic. You belonged to a tribe, you played your part, and the question of individual meaning rarely emerged. The collective mattered more than the self. You knew who you were by knowing where you belonged. Think of it as the original operating system for meaning — closed-source, pre-installed, and immune to customization. Opting out wasn't a philosophical stance; it was a death sentence or, worse, exile. Today, we call it "community." Back then, it was life.
2. Religious & Divine Order (600 BCE – 1500 CE)
Slogan: My purpose is God's plan.
With the rise of the Axial Age came organized religions that framed human life as a moral journey, guided by divine command. Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Hinduism all offered grand narratives in which human beings had cosmic significance. Meaning was found in obedience, sacrifice, and spiritual striving. The purpose of life wasn't invented by the individual — it was discovered in scripture. To live meaningfully was to live rightly, according to sacred law. Fulfillment came in service to a higher power. This was the theological equivalent of a franchise model: the rules came from headquarters, your job was to follow the manual, and if things went wrong, it was your fault for not having enough faith — not a flaw in the system. Think less personal startup, more divine bureaucracy: your life had a mission, but the job description was carved in stone.
3. Rationalism & Humanism (1500 – 1800)
Slogan: I think, therefore I am.The Enlightenment changed everything. Reason replaced revelation, and individuals became the new arbiters of truth. Thinkers like Descartes, Locke, and Kant argued that humans could construct meaning through intellect, ethics, and personal autonomy. The Renaissance celebrated the dignity of man; science opened new frontiers. Meaning began to shift from divine will to human capability. Life became a quest not to obey, but to understand — and to act morally out of reason, not just faith. Meaning was no longer handed down from the heavens; it was drafted, debated, and footnoted by men in powdered wigs. Humanity became its own mythmaker — the sole author, editor, and sometimes unreliable narrator of significance. It was as if the universe outsourced meaning to us, trusting we'd be rational (or at least confident) enough not to mess it up.
4. Scientific & Industrial Progress (1800 – 1945)
Slogan: To work is to live.
As revolutions roared and factories rose, human worth became increasingly tied to productivity. The industrial age recast people as workers — gears in the great machine of economic progress. Purpose was found in contribution: building, inventing, conquering, producing. Even philosophies of meaning (Marxism, nationalism, utilitarianism) took on a mechanistic bent. Labor was no longer just a necessity; it became an identity. Your job wasn't just what you did — it was who you were. It was the age when the soul clocked in. Humans became their CVs, and meaning punched a timecard. Fulfillment was measured not in prayers or principles, but in output per hour — a kind of existential capitalism where your worth was your work ethic, and vacation was moral suspicion. In a way, this was the analogue version of the digital revolution or data-driven capitalism.
Meaning through the ages
5. Existentialism & Absurdism (1945 – 1980s)
Slogan: Life is meaningless — now make it count.
The aftermath of two world wars shattered many of the old certainties. God seemed silent, progress suspect. Philosophers like Camus and Sartre embraced the absurd: life has no inherent meaning, so we must create our own. This was the era of freedom and anxiety, where responsibility became the burden of the individual. Meaning was no longer handed down from on high — it was something you assembled from scratch. You were condemned to be free, and what you made of your life was entirely on you. It was as if the universe had ghosted you — no guidance, no purpose, just infinite autonomy and a vague sense that whatever you did next better be meaningful... or at least look good in a memoir.
6. Consumer Identity (1980s – 2000s)
Slogan: I shop, therefore I am.
As neoliberalism took hold, the market moved into the space once occupied by the sacred and the social. Identity became a product, and meaning was increasingly expressed through what you bought, wore, posted, and owned. Careers replaced work. Brands filled in for belief systems. You didn't just work a job — you crafted a meaningful lifestyle and aspired to becoming a brand. The rise of advertising, credit, and Facebook made meaning feel personal but hollow. Influencers emerged as human brands and sources of meaning. Consumption became performance, and success was measured in likes, logos, and LinkedIn endorsements. Our digital selves begun to subsume our real selves.
7. Wellbeing & Inner Growth (2000s – 2020s)
Slogan: Find your truth.
As burnout and disillusionment with materialism set in, a new quest began: inward. Meaning shifted from status to self-awareness, from hustle to healing. Mindfulness apps replaced religious rituals. Therapy-speak became a second language. Self-actualization became the new salvation. You were expected not only to work and consume, but to grow, evolve, and become your "authentic self." This era promised meaning through alignment — between who you are, what you do, and how you feel. This era of existential freedom—where meaning must be handcrafted from the raw materials of one's own psyche—was not without cost. As the contemporary philosopher Byung-Chul Han observes, we have transitioned from a society of repression to one of depression. No longer oppressed by external authority, we are instead crushed by the weight of limitless possibility. 'If you can be anything,' Han warns, 'then you must be everything'— a pressure that turns potential into paralysis. In the absence of fixed roles or inherited purpose, freedom becomes a tyrannical demand for self-creation. The individual is now CEO, brand, therapist, and motivational speaker all in one — like a one-person startup permanently pitching to an invisible investor called 'self-worth,' with exhaustion as the only guaranteed return on investment.
8. AI & Automation (2020s – → )
Slogan: I prompt, therefore I am.
And now, we arrive at the present moment — a time in which AI, which had been in the making since the 1960s, finally woke up, going mainstream and beginning to absorb not just our labor, but our cognitive and creative functions. AI can now write, draw, analyze, strategize, and even empathize (or at least simulate it well enough to fool us). The very domains where humans once found purpose — problem-solving, innovation, self-expression — are increasingly shared with, or surrendered to, machines.
We are no longer just workers or thinkers; we are prompters — directing generative systems that do the work for us. Meaning becomes mediated through interface. If AI can perform our jobs, generate our ideas, write our stories, even express our feelings — where does that leave us? Are we curators of meaning, or passive consumers of it? Can we still find fulfillment in being the prompt engineers of our own existence? Expertise is no longer about knowing the answer to many questions, but asking the right questions; and creativity, well, it is the human leftover to what AI can't do (or doesn't want to). The optimistic account is that our lives will be more fulfilling because all the boring and predictable tasks can be outsourced to AI; the pessimistic account sees us as the digital version of assembly line workers, training large language models on how to automate us, in the huge virtual factory called AI.
'Ctrl + Alt + Purpose: Rebooting Meaning in the Age of AI'
Throughout history, every era has rewritten the script of human meaning — from divine decree to industrial purpose, from moral codes to personal brands. We once searched the skies, then the self; now, we consult the algorithm. Each answer reflected the technologies, fears, and fantasies of its time.
But today, meaning has become strangely urgent. When machines can paint, write, and diagnose — even simulate empathy — what's left for us to be? If productivity no longer depends on us, why should purpose?
Maybe this is the moment meaning finally stops being about output. Maybe our value isn't in what we produce, but in what we notice, nurture, or choose to care about — in the deliberate, non-automatable act of consciousness. Or maybe we'll just scroll past it, distracted by another synthetic dopamine hit.
Either way, in a world where everything can be faked — intelligence, emotion, even purpose — the real danger isn't that AI will outthink us. It's that we'll forget the value of meaning altogether.