Imagine stepping into the newly opened Grand Egyptian Museum, drawn by the undeniable pull of King Tutankhamun’s golden mask. It sits there, pristine and silent, within its glass box, yet it emanates a presence so profound, so vivid, that you almost expect the young pharaoh to flinch, to smile, to acknowledge the throngs of cameras pointed his way. He is the ultimate magnetic force, drawing every gaze without chasing a single one, compelling all to follow, yet following no one back.
In a way, this experience mirrors our modern lives. We scroll through Instagram, scrutinizing neat little boxes of frozen moments, people captured in still frames. King Tut, in his own magnificent way, exists in his own image box, held in a single moment by the glass that encases him. Visiting him feels less like a historical encounter and more like pressing ‘follow’ on his eternal, unchanging glory, an intimate glimpse into a legacy untouched by time.
But here’s the thought that truly lingers: what if King Tutankhamun genuinely had an Instagram account? Not a fan page, but his own, official profile. How would such a digital window into an ancient world shift our perception of social media, and more profoundly, redefine what it truly means to press that ‘follow’ button?
The Undeniable Weight of a Single ‘Follow’ Button
After years of navigating the digital landscape, living much of my life through social media feeds, I’ve come to grasp the true power—and often, the overlooked weight—of a single ‘follow’ button. It’s never just a click. It’s an invitation, an open door into someone’s curated world, their personal museum. It allows us to witness every move, every thought, and every emotion they choose to display.
Before that finger hovers over ‘follow,’ we ought to pause and ask ourselves: why am I really doing this? Why am I willingly entering their world? Does what they share genuinely add meaning to my life, or is it merely a glossy reflection of their own reality, often offered with little regard for the wider world or those consuming it?
I distinctly remember creating my first Twitter account. The platform, in its wisdom, immediately recommended a list of famous celebrities. Young and impressionable, I didn’t think twice. I tapped ‘follow’ on a dozen household names, absorbing their updates, their promotional singles, their filtered glimpses into glamorous lives. Looking back, I often wonder: what real value did any of that bring me?
It seems I’m not alone in this retrospective re-evaluation. Recent studies and anecdotal evidence suggest that many in my generation—those who came of age with technology seamlessly woven into daily life—are now taking a deliberate step back. We’re reconsidering who we follow, how we engage, and what we expose ourselves to in the sprawling digital universe. The tide is turning.
Beyond Fame: The Quest for Authentic Connection
Today, the landscape of digital influence is undergoing a profound transformation. Reaching Gen Z, for instance, is no longer solely about splurging on a major celebrity endorsement. The focus has shifted dramatically towards micro-influencers, individuals who cultivate genuine, meaningful connections with their audience. It’s less about idolizing authority or chasing fleeting fame, and more about following people you trust, who bring tangible value to your life, and whose perspectives genuinely resonate with your own identity.
We grew up in a time when celebrity personas often overshadowed the profound insights of the writers, scientists, and artists we studied in school. Their carefully crafted images were far more visible, far more accessible, than the wisdom of the ages. But that era of blind adoration is slowly fading. Popularity, it turns out, is a poor measure of true influence. What truly matters to today’s online generation is the trust you build, the authenticity you project, and the consistent value you bring to the table.
This evolving sensibility signals a deeper hunger for substance over superficiality. It’s a quiet rebellion against the endless scroll of hollow content, a yearning for interactions that enrich rather than just entertain. We’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that who we allow into our digital world matters just as much as the friends we choose in real life. We wouldn’t knowingly surround ourselves with people who don’t align with our values, so why should our digital circles be any different?
Bringing Ancient Figures into the Digital Light
Perhaps it was this collective weariness of modern stardom that led to a fascinating trend: the creation of Instagram and X (formerly Twitter) accounts for ancient figures. Suddenly, poets like Rumi, philosophers like Marcus Aurelius, and scientists from forgotten eras are finding new life in our feeds. For reasons we can’t always articulate, these voices from the past speak to us in a language that feels deeper, more powerful, and far more enduring than the fleeting pronouncements of current celebrities.
Today, I find myself turning to the X account dedicated to Rumi far more often than I would to a celebrity’s feed. Instead of waking up to another promotional single I can’t bring myself to care about, I choose a line from a Sufi poem, words that linger and resonate long after I’ve put my phone down. In an ocean saturated with podcasts and celebrity clips, the wisdom of long-gone writers still carries a weight and meaning that feels far more substantial, far more grounding.
Ancient figures don’t have to remain confined within a physical museum, sealed behind a glass box. They can transcend those walls, living on through their own social media accounts—digital museums where people can step inside, see their words, read their thoughts, and feel their reflections in a space that reaches far beyond any brick and mortar. Imagine the insights a digital ‘King Tut’ could offer.
If Tut Had Instagram: Beyond the Golden Mask
If King Tutankhamun truly had an official Instagram account, perhaps he would finally step out from behind that iconic golden mask, revealing the human face we’ve never been able to see. Maybe he would share the wisdom he gathered during his short but impactful reign, the poetry he cherished, or the sophisticated science and art his civilization once mastered. Perhaps we would see candid moments of daily life in ancient Egypt, the intricate processes behind the construction of magnificent temples, or the philosophical debates that shaped his world.
But more than the historical data or artistic beauty, an account like that would offer something profound and timely. In a world where everyone is following everyone else, where we spend countless hours gazing at each other’s carefully constructed personas, King Tut’s digital presence might remind us of a deeper truth. It would prompt us to stop chasing ephemeral attention and, instead, to follow what truly matters: the enduring weight of the legacy we choose to leave behind. It would encourage us to seek and share content that builds, inspires, and educates, rather than merely distracts.
Such an account would be a powerful antidote to the superficiality that often dominates our feeds. It would be a daily dose of history, art, philosophy, and human experience, urging us to look beyond the fleeting trends and back to the foundational elements of what it means to be human. By following a figure like Tutankhamun, perhaps we would learn to see the world again as ancient civilizations once did—guided by the open sky above and the ground beneath their feet, in a time when nature spoke louder than any machine, and legacy was built not on likes, but on lasting impact.
What if the ultimate influencer wasn’t someone chasing trends, but someone whose profound impact has already endured for millennia? Perhaps King Tut’s Instagram wouldn’t just teach us about the past, but guide us towards a more mindful, meaningful future online. It would truly redefine the meaning of that simple ‘follow’ button.
