We Designed a World That Can't Measure Meaning

A theme that has run through many of my written pieces this year is formation. For those encountering this term or its usage here, it refers to the environment (family, schooling, and wider society) that shapes an individual. I would argue that it is a shorthand for cultural influence: the moral atmosphere that one soaks up without even realising it at times.

Naturally, we tend to associate formation with institutions that provide overt moral instruction, such as religion, prestigious independent schools, and political movements. But what we may not fully realise are the subtle, non-obvious assumptions beneath the surface that shape our sensibilities and how we understand reality.

It was my day job as a rail consultant, which involves a significant amount of work with transport demand forecasts, that really brought this home to me.

Transport demand modelling is largely about trying to understand how humans behave when faced with different modes of transport. It is an essential part of the feasibility study process for any transport infrastructure development. Socioeconomic viability depends heavily on whether passengers would be attracted to e.g. a new or improved railway line, and whether the decision should be made to commit to its construction.

The models tend to treat time as a cost to be minimised, which is somewhat logical. Transport is treated as a derived demand. We do not desire transport for its own sake, but because it enables us to reach the places we need to visit. A longer journey is generally seen as the worse outcome, as well as a higher journey cost. This means that a 20-minute walk to the train station would be coded as a penalty, as opposed to an 5-minute car ride from a friend. The model is not just measuring journeys but ranking ways of living. The question is whether this assumption truly reflects reality itself.

Whether intentional or not, there is an implicit anthropology at play here. The human being is viewed as a utility maximiser, where there is a direct correlation between efficiency and satisfaction. Time is a resource to be spent efficiently; thus, the longer one spends travelling, the more dissatisfied the individual is assumed to be. As a result, faster, smoother, and more frictionless become values within this understanding of the human person. This is not neutral but a vision of the good life.

It ignores the fact that, whilst walking clearly takes longer to reach a destination than travelling by bus or car, there are benefits that cannot be captured by such a model. It is a form of exercise, and there are obvious health benefits to getting in one’s daily steps. There is also something to be said for engaging with one’s environment, with opportunities for interaction with other people and the wider community. In addition, the rhythm of a leisurely walk can provide space for inspiration and contemplation. Sure, these may be seen as inconvenient because of the friction they bring, but they are also formative. The model can measure tangible things such as money and time, but not meaning.

The model reinforces the idea that only what can be empirically measured is valuable, which reflects a post-Enlightenment secular understanding of life. It may seem “neutral”, but there is a clear worldview that underpins the framework. These “neutral” systems do carry moral assumptions, placing less value on the metaphysical dimensions of reality. Some worldviews quietly present themselves as common sense. What presents itself as technical reasoning is often a moral vision in disguise. As one of my favourite theologians, the late Lesslie Newbigin, argued, raw data cannot be assessed without a conceptual framework. No one approaches the world without a worldview, whether they recognise it or not.

But the more profound point I am trying to make is the impact these models have in shaping our everyday lives. If the construction of transport infrastructure projects is influenced by a largely empirical understanding of reality, then it reinforces values such as productivity and the removal of friction. Life becomes geared towards optimisation. Efficiency, without us consciously realising it, becomes the framework through which we understand life because we have built our culture, societal structures, and systems to reflect this way of thinking. My interaction with transport modelling is just one example, but this cuts across all kinds of sectors, from journalism (where writing is increasingly driven by immediacy) to dining (where the expectation is for quick, frictionless service, lest a bad review follow).

However, my question is whether this understanding of reality is allowing us to achieve the abundant life. There is surely more to life than efficiency. In fact, as a society, we are becoming more efficient than ever. We are able to engage in multiple activities each day. We are productive with our schedules, with many of us managing to complete several different tasks. But are we any happier or more fulfilled?

The simple truth is that efficiency does not provide us with purpose or meaning. That does not mean it is unhelpful, but it must be ordered in a way that allows us to pursue the things that do provide fulfilment: healthy families, deep friendships, and the building of a legacy. These things take time and are full of tension and challenge, but it is through them that we grow and find fulfilment.

It is easier said than done, but it ultimately starts with us as a society. We shape culture. I am reminded of Proverbs 14:34: “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin condemns any people.” The underlying idea is that a nation’s character is shaped by the moral character of its people. A nation’s flourishing is not simply a product of its institutions, wealth, or military power, but of the virtues (or vices) embodied by those who constitute it. Societal flourishing begins with the formation of persons and communities, not merely with political structures. We must first become the change we want to see in the world.

One of the ways I have decided to be part of that change is by leaving salaried employment, at least for this phase of my life. I will continue to work as an independent consultant, but this will afford me the time to organise my life around the things that are more important to me than a nine-hour working day. I will be able to read, write more (which I see as a vocation), and build relationships (something that can be very challenging in a time-pressured working environment).

I am leaving more space in my life so that I can absorb the friction. Yes, it is a sacrifice. But it is one that has been carefully thought through and is not driven by what the world treats as ultimate: efficiency and money. Rather, it is a decision that allows me to live a life centred on the good, the beautiful, and the true. It is not just about thinking about these things, but living them out faithfully. That is where change occurs. And ultimately, that change begins with us, because that is where we have the most agency.