“We didn’t know it at the time, but the ‘90s were the last real decade.”
We often speak about technological progress as if it’s synonymous with cultural progress. But what if the opposite is true? What if, in our pursuit of speed, convenience, and connectivity, we lost something vital — something human?
This question haunts many of us who came of age in the 1990s — a decade that now feels like the closing chapter of an analog civilization. Before Tinder. Before cancel culture. Before everyone became a “content creator.” Back when culture was still lived, not downloaded.
Television Had Soul (and Balls)
In the ‘90s, television didn’t apologize. Seinfeld made fun of everything — and everyone. The Jamie Kennedy Experiment brought public prank culture into the mainstream. These shows weren’t afraid of controversy; they relied on it. The goal wasn’t safety. It was entertainment.
Compare that to today’s media landscape, where writers must self-censor or risk being deplatformed. There is no risk, no edge — only curated inoffensiveness. Where once humor subverted, now it conforms.
Music Was a Movement, Not a Market
Bands like Oasis weren’t just musicians. They were cultural agents, wearing the Union Jack with boldness and pride. They weren’t afraid to express identity — not as a marketing ploy, but as a statement of being. Today, similar acts might be branded nationalist or divisive.
Music now feels sterile. Optimized. Algorithmic. Designed not to challenge, but to trend. What once came from the gut now comes from analytics.
Photography Was Art, Not Content
Before smartphones, photography demanded intentionality. You loaded film. You chose your shot. You waited. There was patience and failure — and in that, craft. As Duane Michals famously said, “I’m not interested in shooting new things — I’m interested in seeing things new.”
Today, photography has become visual clutter. Everyone is a “photographer.” Which, in a paradox of abundance, means no one is. When every moment is documented, none are remembered.
The Algorithm Ate Our Culture
It’s tempting to blame smartphones alone, but they are only the vessel. The real culprit is the algorithmic worldview. That is, a culture shaped by metrics, not meaning. We consume what’s recommended, not what we need. We say what will get likes, not what we believe.
Even love isn’t immune. Apps like Tinder have turned human intimacy into a gamified economy of swipes, matches, and dopamine loops. Dating once required courage — now it requires bandwidth.
Cancel Culture and the End of Risk
Freedom of expression once meant embracing the uncomfortable. Today, discomfort itself is taboo. Creativity has become risk-managed. The arts — once the last bastion of intellectual rebellion — are now platforms for moral performance.
The result? A culture afraid of itself.
What the 1990s Taught Us
The 1990s weren’t perfect, but they were real. You had to call someone and talk. You had to carry a camera and wait. You had to write with a pen, not your thumbs. Life demanded participation — not just consumption.
Most importantly, culture was lived, not performed.
Conclusion: What Comes Next?
We can't go back — nor should we pretend that every part of the past was golden. But we can resist the flattening of human experience by remembering how it felt to live without constant surveillance, metrics, and optimization.
Real life is imperfect, analog, risky, unfiltered — and worth preserving.
So maybe the question isn’t “What happened to culture?”
Maybe it’s “Are we brave enough to make it human again? ~John Kobeck 2025