In the decades ahead, Thailand will not collapse in a blaze of war, disease, or climate catastrophe. Rather, it will quietly wither from within. The twin forces of demographic decline and digital automation are converging with astonishing speed, and yet our political and moral imaginations remain unprepared.
Today, Thailand's population is some 66 million. However, by 2055, that number is expected to decrease to just under 48 million, with the elderly accounting for nearly 30 percent of the population. Fertility rates are falling rapidly, a trend accelerated by rising socioeconomic pressures, shifting gender norms, and the increasing visibility and acceptance of LGBTQ communities. While the latter represents a human rights victory, it also contributes to fewer individuals pursuing a traditional family structure involving reproduction.
At the same time, the proportion of one-child families continues to rise. Fewer children means fewer siblings. And fewer siblings means fewer chances to learn some of life's most essential values, such as sharing, sacrifice, and care. These virtues, once passed down within households, are becoming rarer in an age of solitude and individualism. The family, once the cornerstone of society, is gradually being dismantled not by state decree but by a quiet societal evolution.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy in this transformation will befall our elderly. In traditional Thai society, grandparents once lived for the joy of watching their grandchildren grow, love, and flourish. Many would say that the love one feels for a grandchild surpasses even the love one feels for one's children, particularly in the twilight of life. But for tomorrow's elderly, there may be no grandchildren. Instead, there will be loneliness, and with it, the slow erosion of emotional well-being, cultural memory, and inter-generational solidarity.
While humans drift apart, machines are drawing closer. Robots and artificial intelligence are evolving not just to perform physical labour, but to mimic emotional and cognitive tasks. They are learning our language, our gestures, even our moral codes. By 2055, machines are expected to have replaced humans in many domains of work, including manufacturing and logistics, as well as education, finance, and possibly even caregiving.
When that day comes, what will happen to employment? Work, as we know it, may become obsolete for the majority of the population. If robots and algorithms can do the job better, faster, and cheaper, then who will hire a human? And if fewer people are working, how will they earn a living?
We will need a new economic theory, one no longer based on land ownership, labour, or even the mode of production, but on the ownership of machines and digital know-how. Those who own or control the technology will control the wealth. Human capital -- once the engines of national development -- will become secondary. Land, once a symbol of wealth and stability, will hold diminishing relevance. And wages, the cornerstone of the modern social contract, may disappear.
This upcoming order will not only change economics; it will also reshape politics. Politicians of the future will not be judged by job creation but by how fairly they redistribute the enormous wealth generated by machines. In the best-case scenario, they will use their power to create an inclusive society. In the worst case, they will become gatekeepers of privilege, doling out access and survival to the chosen few. Either way, democracy itself may be redefined.
And yet, the greatest paradox is this: as humans become more robotic in their emotional detachment, robots are becoming more human, at least in appearance. Humans are becoming increasingly like robots, and robots are becoming more like humans. What still separates them is emotion, empathy, compassion, and our love for humanity -- qualities we must preserve and pass on, not programme or simulate. Advanced robots and AI systems can simulate empathy, express affection, and adhere to ethical algorithms. But these expressions are programmed, not felt. They do not feel joy, sorrow, regret, or love. They do not cry when someone dies.
Human professionals, especially doctors, still do. A good doctor is not just trained to heal; they are deeply affected by the pain, progress, and sometimes the death of their patients. Their joy comes not from control, but from compassion. In contrast, many computer scientists are taught to optimise, to solve, to control. Their greatest pride lies in designing systems that respond precisely to commands. But that very genius has laid the groundwork for harm. It is computer scientists, not doctors, who inadvertently gave rise to scammers, hackers, and surveillance states. No doctor has ever created a virus to infect people in order to profit from the cure. But the digital world is full of such incentives.
This is why we must urgently rethink what it means to be human and what kind of future we are creating. A sense of ethics, empathy, and understanding is not optional: it lies at the heart of our humanity. Thailand must begin preparing its future computer scientists, not merely as technical experts, but as moral agents who bear responsibility for the tools they create. They must be equipped to think deeply about the human condition and the consequences of automation.
If we do not act, the next generation may be richer in technology but poorer in relationships, culture, and meaning. The machines will not revolt. But society might, when millions are jobless, rootless, and purposeless.
To prepare, we must first redefine employment, not as a mere requirement for survival, but as a right to make meaningful contributions. We must consider a universal basic income, not as charity but as a dividend of shared technological productivity. We must reform education, not only to teach science and coding, but also to make schools and universities nurturing grounds for self-discipline, ethics, and empathy. These institutions must go beyond producing skilled workers; they must shape responsible and caring citizens. And most urgently, we must legislate and regulate the boundaries of technological power. Robots may become better than us at everything -- except being human. That is something we must never outsource.
Peerasit Kamnuansilpa is Founder and Former Dean of the College of Local Administration, Khon Kaen University.