Lately, I’ve found myself immersed in a stream of podcasts, listening to conversations where investors and entrepreneurs share their thoughts on the allure of adversity. It’s a common refrain now—a badge of honor worn by those who have "been through it." These individuals, molded by failure and hardship, are seemingly more worthy of capital, more deserving of mentorship, more ready for the spotlight. At first, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride in this. In many ways, this felt like a nod to the challenges I’d faced growing up. Raised by a single parent in a small, isolated town with no grocery store, I moved through 13 schools before I was 13, thanks to a mix of health issues and financial strain. Life wasn’t easy, but it was what it was—adversity wasn't something to seek; it was simply part of the everyday. But now, in a world obsessed with stories of overcoming, it’s become a commodity of sorts, a currency that some seem eager to acquire.
The more I reflect on this, the more I wonder: as we continue down the path of advancing technology—particularly artificial intelligence—and solve some of our most pressing human problems, will adversity become scarce? If we manage to crack the code on things like medical breakthroughs, poverty reduction, and global stability, where will adversity come from? If the challenges of our past are neutralized by innovation, will there be a need to manufacture hardship? Will we someday look to simulate adversity as we simulate other experiences?
Imagine a world where technology has removed many of the barriers that once held people back. Diseases are cured, resources are abundant, and lives are longer, more stable. In such a world, would parents—or society at large—begin to design challenges for their children, programming adversity into their lives as a tool for character building? Who would be the first to tell an AI, “Give my child hardship, make them empathetic, humble, resilient”? Would empathy even be a necessary trait in a world where everything seems to function smoothly for everyone? What role does struggle play in a life without scarcity?
Perhaps, we’ve already dabbled in these questions through the art we consume. Films and stories take us through emotional arcs of struggle and resolution, but merely watching tragedy unfold on screen doesn’t truly build character. It’s a vicarious experience, one where the consequences are not ours to bear. So, what’s next? What stronger, more visceral form of simulation could emerge? A moral quandary arises here: in a future where we have, to some extent, alleviated much of humanity’s pain, should we consciously reintroduce it? Should we choose to subject future generations to hardship, even in simulated form, when the overarching goal of civilization has been to minimize suffering?
If adversity becomes a thing of the past, a relic of a less enlightened age, who will be the gatekeepers of these simulated experiences? And, more intriguingly, who will decide what kind of adversity is valuable or meaningful? In a world that has managed to solve most of its immediate problems, will the experience of pain become a privilege—something designed and curated to teach specific lessons? It raises a question: is the absence of adversity truly a gift, or is it a loss of something essential to the human experience?
In the shadow of scarcity, human greed festers. It’s our longing for what we don’t have that often drives us. But what happens when anything can be shaped, altered, or created at will? If the world becomes a blank canvas where needs and desires are easily fulfilled, will greed still exist? Or will we simply create new forms of scarcity—new desires, new hierarchies that keep us chasing after what we lack? The human condition is, at its core, a dance between longing and fulfillment. In a world where fulfillment is a given, what new forms of longing will we invent?
The thought lingers: perhaps we will always need adversity. Not because we enjoy it, but because without it, we may lose something of ourselves. And if we no longer encounter it naturally, we may have no choice but to create it ourselves.