The Murder No One Witnessed
There was a murder in the last century.
No one saw it happen.
No police report.
No headlines.
But we’ve all been living with the consequences.
The left brain quietly murdered the right.
The logical killed the lyrical.
The measurable strangled the meaningful.
The calculator silenced the poet.
And we didn’t even notice because we were too busy counting.
Today, we speak almost entirely in numbers.
We ask children how old they are.
What class they’re in.
What marks they achieved.
How many clubs they attend.
How many goals they scored.
We ask adults what they earn.
What their employee number is.
How much their mortgage is.
How much debt they carry.
How many kilos they need to lose.
Food is no longer nourishment.
It’s calories. Protein. Macros.
Life has become an audit.
We are the most aware generation in human history because this is the most measured era in human history.
And yet… something essential is missing.
Someone once described it perfectly:
“The logical, mathematical, analytical mind killed the intuitive, colourful, musical one.
It was like Cain killing Abel and an entire direction of history disappeared with it.”
Look around.
Cars are the same colours.
Buildings are the same shades.
Cities feel efficient… and strangely bored.
We call the world’s best chess player a genius.
But not the greatest painter.
Not the greatest poet.
Not the greatest musician.
Because chess uses numbers.
And numbers now define intelligence.
Innovation is exploding in technology
but barely moving in the human experience.
We have more convenience than ever,
and less meaning than ever.
We ask:
“How many calories were in the meal?”
Instead of:
“How did it make you feel afterwards?”
We ask:
“What does the job pay?”
Instead of:
“Does it give you time with your family?”
“Does it serve a purpose?”
“Was the money earned ethically?”
We ask:
“How many goals did the child score?”
Instead of:
“How does he treat people who can do nothing for him?”
In The Little Prince, there’s a businessman counting stars.
“Why?” the Little Prince asks.
“Because I own them.”
“How do you own stars?”
“I write their names on paper and lock them in a drawer.”
That’s what we’ve done to life.
We’ve turned ourselves into account numbers.
Employee numbers.
Roll numbers.
License numbers.
We’ve mistaken knowing something for living it.
Math is a magnificent human discovery.
It unlocks the universe.
But we are not objective beings.
We are subjective ones.
A machine thrives on the left brain.
A human thrives on the right.
When quantity rules, quality dies quietly.
When everything is measured, nothing is felt.
And in a world that is about to become even more efficient,
this question will matter more than ever.
Forget the numbers once in a while.
That’s how you remember how to live.
