May 2025
There’s something uniquely surreal about finding yourself in a room with hundreds of thought leaders playing rock, paper, scissors like excited children. Hours later, those same minds wrestle with existential warnings about artificial intelligence. That emotional whiplash isn’t accidental—it’s precisely the point of TED.
As a first-time attendee of TED 2025: Humanity Reimagined, I discovered that the conference extends far beyond the polished 18-minute talks we see online. It’s an immersive experience designed to challenge assumptions, spark unexpected connections, and leave you navigating complex tensions without easy resolution.
When people think about TED, they naturally focus on the presentations. But for attendees, the experience is equally about the thoughtful curation of community and environment.
The Vancouver Convention Centre transformed into an idea laboratory where every detail was meticulously considered:
While the talks inspire, the community transforms. As a newcomer among veterans (some attending their 5th, 10th, or even 20th conference), I found myself welcomed into conversations that will likely continue for years to come.
The connections formed during hallway conversations, over meals, and in structured brain dates quickly became the heart of the experience. These weren’t merely networking opportunities but genuine moments of connection with passionate thinkers from diverse disciplines:
What struck me most was how the conference design intentionally created collisions between disciplines. The person sitting next to you might be approaching similar questions from an entirely different angle—a philosopher next to an engineer next to an artist—creating a rich tapestry of perspective.
In addition to the top AI TED Talks we’ve reflected on in an earlier article, what resonated most was how the curation created intentional tensions that the audience was invited to hold rather than resolve.
Chris Anderson and TED curators framed the conference around a deceptively simple question: “What are humans for?” This thread wove through every session, from warnings to celebrations of technology, creating productive friction rather than easy answers.
The juxtaposition of voices was deliberate—Yoshua Bengio’s evidence-based warnings about AI agency alongside visions of assistive robots helping the elderly; Tristan Harris’s urgent wake-up call, contrasting with Eric Nguyen’s excitement about AI-generated DNA; Carole Cadwalladr’s call to “digitally disobey,” followed by demonstrations of cutting-edge technology.
Rather than presenting a unified narrative, TED created a space to grapple with paradox. As solutions journalist Angus Hervey put it when asked if we’re witnessing collapse or progress: “Both.”
For those considering attending TED, a few recommendations from my experience:
Several weeks after returning home, I find the experience continues to resonate in unexpected ways. What stays with me isn’t just the content of specific talks but the questions they raised and the community they fostered.
The brilliance of TED lies in creating a container where different—often contradictory—ideas can coexist, where urgency meets celebration, where warning meets possibility. In a world that increasingly pushes us toward binary thinking, TED encourages us to embrace nuance and complexity.
As I reflect on my first TED experience, I’m reminded of Angus Hervey’s challenge: “We all get a choice. We all get to decide which one of these stories we are a part of.” TED doesn’t just present ideas worth spreading—it invites us to thoughtfully engage with those ideas and shape them into a future worth creating.
What are you building today that shifts the probabilities toward a better tomorrow?
I’d love to know.
Reach out to Natalie@InspiringApps.com to connect.
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