The flames that consumed a Belfast home last night were not just physical. They were a symptom of a deeper societal disconnect, a bug in the human operating system that no software patch can fix. As dawn breaks over the smouldering streets, residents speak of a trauma that no algorithm can quantify: the sight of their own home reduced to ash.
Silicon Valley taught me to look for patterns, to see the future in the data. But here, the pattern is ancient. It’s about belonging, about fear of the other, and about the failure of our digital echo chambers to foster real empathy. The unrest is not a bug; it’s a feature of a system where polarisation is profitable and engagement trumps understanding.
I worry about the 'Black Mirror' consequences of every new algorithm. But last night wasn’t a sci-fi dystopia. It was real, visceral, and human. The sound of shattering glass, the acrid smell of burning plastic, the wail of sirens: these are the raw data points of collective pain. Social media didn’t start the fire, but it certainly fanned the flames. Misinformation spread faster than any fire truck could arrive, with rumours and vitriol fuelling the mob mentality.
Yet amidst the ruin, there are glimmers of resilience. Neighbours who helped each other, despite their differences. Community leaders calling for calm. The human spirit, it seems, refuses to be reduced to a stream of binary code. But we must ask: how do we build a digital infrastructure that supports rather than divides? How do we engineer a 'User Experience' of society that prioritises truth and compassion over clicks and outrage?
These are not abstract questions. They are the key to preventing the next fire. As a tech evangelist turned cautious optimist, I believe technology can help. But only if we design it with the right values: transparency, accountability, and a deep respect for human dignity. The alternative is a world where our homes, both physical and digital, are perpetually at risk of burning down.
