Living in a Digital Panopticon — And Still Asking, “Why So Much Chaos?”

 

Lately, a strange phrase has been echoing in my head—digital panopticon.

I heard it in a podcast, possibly while the speaker was reflecting on the ideas of Byung-Chul Han, the Korean-German philosopher. The phrase may not be his invention, but the concept fits seamlessly into his worldview: a society of hyper-transparency, where surveillance is no longer imposed from above but internalized by individuals. We post, we perform, we curate—and call it freedom. But in truth, we are burning out under the weight of self-exposure.

Han’s work is striking—not only because of its piercing insight, but also because it comes from an Asian intellectual voice in a conversation so often dominated by the West. As someone who has mostly read Western thinkers, I find something deeply affirming in that. It’s a reminder: wisdom has no borders.

This thought connected itself to another one that’s been lingering in my mind: Neil Postman’s warning that we are amusing ourselves to death. Entertainment isn’t the enemy. But in a world so saturated with fun, with the addictive drip-feed of reels and endless scrolling, we’ve forgotten how to be still. To sit in silence. To ask hard questions. To feel anything deeply.

And what a strange world we live in.

In one part of the globe, there’s war—bombs falling, lives ripped apart, families fleeing rubble. Meanwhile, in another part, there’s celebration—a FIFA Club World Cup, stadium lights, chants and cheers. Locally, people are dying by suicide, communities are divided, natural disasters sweep through, and news of violence barely shakes us anymore.

And I? I’m somewhere in between. Watching. Scrolling. Worrying. Wondering. I grieve for the world, and yet I’m not sure if I really feel it—because I have my own struggles to deal with. Maybe numbness is part of the burnout too.

So, here’s the age-old ache that keeps surfacing:
Why is there so much unhappiness, chaos, and disunity in the world?

It’s a question that has made many walk away from belief. If there’s a God—and if He is good and wise—how could He allow this?

The simplest answer offered in Christian thought is this: free will. We are not puppets. God gave us the freedom to love, to create, to choose—and in doing so, also the freedom to destroy. We often talk about sin as a private thing, but in Scripture, sin is also corporate. One person’s failure can devastate a community. The fall of one spills outward. Pain echoes across relationships, generations, and even creation itself.

The world is fractured, not because God isn’t good, but because freedom is real—and sin is heavy.

But here’s the quiet hope: in noticing the brokenness, maybe we’re also resisting it. In feeling the sorrow, we are still human. In stepping away from the noise, even for a moment, we make space for something deeper.

Maybe, just maybe, these questions—uncomfortable as they are—are where healing begins.