Where once Lego offered a whimsical form of escapism into the
Where once Lego offered a whimsical form of escapism into the world of the subconscious, encouraging creativity and imagination, it's transformed into a rigid 'box ticking' discipline where children are encouraged to build by conformity.
“Where once Lego offered a whimsical form of escapism into the world of the subconscious, encouraging creativity and imagination, it's transformed into a rigid 'box ticking' discipline where children are encouraged to build by conformity,” said Ben Fogle, the adventurer and storyteller whose life has been shaped by exploration, freedom, and wonder. His lament is not merely about a toy — it is a reflection on the changing nature of creativity itself, and the danger that arises when imagination is replaced by instruction. In his words lies a warning that echoes across generations: that the flame of imagination, once nurtured by freedom and curiosity, is now being dimmed by the shadows of conformity and control.
Once, the world of Lego was an invitation to dream — a universe of color and possibility where children could shape kingdoms from their minds and construct worlds born of their own vision. There were no rules, no guides, no finished picture to compare against. A handful of bricks was enough to become a spaceship, a castle, a dragon, or a city of peace. In those moments of play, the child entered the sacred realm of the subconscious, where imagination and instinct danced together in harmony. It was not about perfection — it was about creation, about the joy of forming something from nothing. Through such play, the young learned the ancient art of innovation, the courage to begin without knowing the end.
But Fogle, like a modern philosopher observing the spirit of his time, sees that this freedom of play has been eroded. What was once a field of limitless exploration has become a system of instruction and obedience. The modern Lego set, with its numbered bags and step-by-step guides, no longer asks, “What will you create?” but commands, “Build this.” The child, instead of wandering through the wilderness of imagination, follows a map drawn by another’s hand. The joy of discovery is replaced by the security of completion. The spark of originality fades beneath the weight of the checklist, and what was once art becomes assembly.
This transformation mirrors something larger — the movement of society itself toward uniformity. The world that once celebrated inventors and dreamers now rewards those who follow directions well. The same force that turns creative play into conformity governs our schools, our workplaces, and even our thoughts. We are told what success looks like, how to measure it, and how to build it, step by step, until our lives resemble the prepackaged sets we buy for our children. Fogle’s warning, though tender in tone, is therefore profound: when imagination is replaced by instruction, humanity itself begins to forget how to dream.
History, however, reminds us of what is lost when conformity reigns — and what is gained when imagination is free. Think of Leonardo da Vinci, who, as a child, was never told what to build or draw. He let curiosity be his teacher and wonder his guide. From that freedom came machines centuries ahead of their time and paintings that still breathe the divine. Or consider the Wright brothers, who did not follow a manual but dared to question what others thought impossible. Their airplane was not assembled from numbered parts — it was carved from faith and vision. They remind us that true creation cannot be born in the comfort of instruction; it rises instead from the restless heart of imagination unbound.
Fogle’s reflection, then, is not an attack upon a toy, but a call to reclaim the wildness of creation — in children and in ourselves. He calls us to resist the tyranny of the template, to once again let play, art, and life itself be guided not by rules, but by wonder. The subconscious, that deep well of intuition and possibility, is not reached through structure, but through surrender. When we build, write, or dream without a fixed plan, we open the door to something greater than ourselves — the creative current that has moved through every artist, thinker, and inventor since time began.
So let this be the lesson: do not trade imagination for instruction, nor freedom for perfection. Teach your children — and remind yourself — to build without fear, to create without the safety net of certainty. Let failure be a teacher, and imperfection a muse. Take the pieces of life not as a set to be completed, but as fragments waiting for your own design. For imagination is the birthplace of every masterpiece and every miracle.
And remember, as Ben Fogle reminds us, that the true spirit of play — the true creativity of the human soul — lies not in following the steps of another, but in stepping beyond them. Whether in art, in business, or in living itself, the greatest creations are born when we dare to wander — when we close the instruction manual and begin to dream once more.
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