The Human Side of Technology: The stories we forgot to Tell

We've told a lot of stories about technology.

About billion-dollar valuations. About unicorn startups disrupting industries overnight. About the algorithms that know what you'll click before you do.

But in the midst of this relentless march of progress, we've forgotten some stories. The human ones.

Behind every app you can't stop scrolling through, every platform you rely on to work, shop, naviagte, and connect, there are people. And somewhere along the way, we started talking about technology like it's a force of nature, inevitable and impersonal. But it's not. It's built by people. Shaped by their intentions, their biases, their hopes, and their blind spots.

I've spent years in the trenches of tech.

Not at the top floor, not in the corner office, but in the meetings where hard decisions are made, in the moments where ideas get scrapped because they don't scale fast enough. And what I've realised is that while technology evolves rapidly, the stories we tell about it haven't kept up.

We talk about features and functionalities.

About speeds, specs, and security. About who raised the biggest round and who's losing market share. But rarely do we pause to ask, What is this doing to people? How does this change the way we live, work, and see ourselves? Who does it leave behind?

Because technology isn't neutral. It amplifies what's already there. It can make us more connected or more isolated. More informed or more overwhelmed. It can democratize opportunities or deepen inequality. And those outcomes are shaped not just by code, but by the values of the people writing it.

I remember working on a project where a new feature would dramatically improve efficiency, for most users. But there was a small group, mostly older people in remote areas, who'd struggle with the update. The numbers said their share was too insignificant to stall development. The story we told ourselves was one of progress. "Most people will be fine." But what about the ones who wouldn't be?

No one wrote a blog post about them.

No one shared a viral LinkedIn thread.

And it's moments like that which remind me how much the tech world needs storytellers. Not to romanticise progress, but to humanise it. To remind us that innovation isn't just about what's possible, it's about what's responsible.

We need stories about the people working quietly to make platforms more accessible. About developers losing sleep because a bug left users vulnerable. About the communties finding new ways to thrive through tech, not just the founders cashing out on IPO day.

And we need stories about those left out.

The people who don't have broadband. The kids whose schools can't afford smart classrooms. The elders struggling to adapt in a digital-first world. Not as cautionary tales, but as reminders that this shiny, fast-moving industry we've built affects everyone, whether they're early adopters or reluctant bystanders.

Because the truth is, technology is only as good as the stories we tell about it. When those stories are honest, inclusive, and nuanced, they shape better products. They spark conversations that matter. They hold decision-makers accountable.

And they remind us that at the heart of every piece of tech is a human need. A desire to connect. To solve a problem. To be seen.

So if you work in tech, or even if you don't, tell better stories. Ask harder questions. Not just what this tool does, but what it means. Who benefits? Who's left out? What does it change about the way we relate to each other?

Because when the hype fades, what we'll remember aren't the specs or the valuations. We'll remember how it made us feel. Who it helped. What it cost.

And those are the stories worth telling.