As an e-commerce entrepreneur and venture capitalist, I’ve spent a large chunk of my life around computers. In the mid-1990s and early 2000s, I was fortunate enough to get in on the ground floor of the first dot-com boom. In the years since, I’ve made my living and built my career almost exclusively in the digital realm, co-founding several internet-based companies and investing in countless tech startups. I can see more clearly than most the good the web has done; the many problems it has solved. But, on the flip side of that coin, I’m also uniquely positioned to see the limits of the digital frontier. Primarily, it cannot take the place of real-life experiences. Nor should it.
I first had this thought very early into my foray into the tech world. Back when Super Nintendo was on the cutting-edge of gaming technology, I picked up a controller once or twice and lost a few hours trying to guide Mario and Luigi in saving Princess Peach. After one such session, I remember taking a stroll outside at sunset and thinking, “If that technology is so sophisticated now that it makes me want to spend so long in front of a screen, what will it look like in 25 or 30 years?” Well, it’s now 2024, and I have my answer. It looks amazing. It is many orders of magnitude more attention-holding than in 1994—compelling to the point of being addictive.
As much as I love technology and all its advancements, and as much as it is the thing from which I derive my income, I still believe there’s nothing quite like experiencing the world firsthand. In my spare time, I travel a lot, sometimes via sailing and sometimes over land on my motorcycle or my overhauled camper van. I’ve visited many places around the world—each exciting, enriching, and unique in its own way—and my travels have taught me that the sheer magnitude of nature’s beauty can’t be replicated by any screen, no matter how high-definition it is. Likewise, learning the language and customs of a new group of people has no online equivalent, and examining foreign and exotic cities and eating foods from far-flung regions cannot be properly appreciated vicariously through social media. In short, genuine real-life non-digital experiences open up our senses and minds in ways that digital experiences simply can’t.
My travels have altered my perspective on any number of matters, serving to shape overall my worldview. They have been pivotal in my personal growth and have even played a significant role in my business decisions.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying that everyone has to get up right now and go visit the Grand Canyon or Australian Outback or the bustling markets of Marrakech. Although I would definitely say all three are worthy endeavours, I’m well aware that many people face practical obstacles to doing so. But even simple, local activities, such as playing sports, hiking, or even just exploring the nooks and crannies of a neighbourhood teach problem-solving, resilience, and adaptability. These are qualities that are difficult to develop while sitting in front of a computer or doom-scrolling on a phone. Real-life experiences build character and foster a deeper connection to the world around us. They remind us that while the digital world offers convenience and innovation, it’s the tangible moments that truly enrich our lives.
It worries me when I read news stories or hear anecdotes about young people spending virtually all their time online. Social media, video games, and live streams are wonderful things, but they are meant to augment peoples’ lives, not consume them. The children and young adults who have been raised in the information era need to balance their use of computers, iPads, and smartphones with playing outside, in-person social interaction, and the physical exploration of new places and cultures. No online experience will ever be able to fully duplicate these important aspects of life, no matter how sophisticated technology may become in the future.