After
watching Netflix documentary “the Social Dilemma”, we (maybe once again)
understand that there is a manipulation of human behavior for profit by
technology and social media companies. Infinite scrolling and push
notifications keep users constantly engaged; personalized recommendations use
data not just to predict but also to influence our actions, turning users into
easy prey for advertisers and propagandists. By coincidence, following the
Social Dilemma, I started to read the book Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport.
The book
highlights the fact that people don’t succumb to screens because they are lazy,
but instead because billions of dollars have been invested to make this outcome
inevitable.
Check this
quote from the book to realize the updated danger:
Let’s face it, checking your “likes” is the new smoking. They want you to use it in particular ways and for long periods of time. Because that’s how they make their money. “Philip Morris just wanted your lungs,” Maher concludes. “The App Store wants your soul.”
Many of us tend to use our digital tools/toys more than needed. Compulsive use, in this context, is not the result of a character flaw, but instead the realization of a massively profitable business plan. In order to reestablish control, we need to move beyond tweaks and instead rebuild our relationship with technology from scratch, using our deeply held values as a foundation.
A philosophy of technology use in which you focus your
online time on a small number of carefully selected and optimized activities
that strongly support things you value, and then happily miss out on everything
else.
Minimalists don’t mind missing out on small things;
what worries them much more is diminishing the large things they already know for
sure make a good life good.
Principle #1: Clutter is costly.
Digital minimalists recognize that cluttering their
time and attention with too many devices, apps, and services creates an overall
negative cost that can swamp the small benefits that each individual item
provides in isolation.
Principle #2: Optimization is important.
Digital minimalists believe that deciding a particular
technology supports something they value is only the first step. To truly
extract its full potential benefit, it’s necessary to think carefully about how
they’ll use the technology.
Principle #3: Intentionality is satisfying.
Digital minimalists derive significant satisfaction
from their general commitment to being more intentional about how they engage
with new technologies. This source of satisfaction is independent of the
specific decisions they make and is one of the biggest reasons that minimalism
tends to be immensely meaningful to its practitioners.
Thoreau establishes early in Walden: “The cost of a
thing is the amount of what I will call life which is required to be exchanged
for it, immediately or in the long run.”
When people consider specific tools or behaviors in
their digital lives, they tend to focus only on the value each produces.
Maintaining an active presence on Twitter, for example, might occasionally open
up an interesting new connection or expose you to an idea you hadn’t heard before.
Standard economic thinking says that such profits are good, and the more you
receive the better. It therefore makes sense to clutter your digital life with
as many of these small sources of value as you can find, much as it made sense
for the Concord farmer to cultivate as many acres of land as he could afford to
mortgage.
Thoreau’s new economics, however, demands that you balance
this profit against the costs measured in terms of and exposure to interesting
ideas, he might argue, why not adopt a habit of attending an interesting talk
or event every month, and forcing yourself to chat with at least three people
while there? This would produce similar types of value but consume only a few
hours of your life per month, leaving you with an extra thirty-seven hours to
dedicate to other meaningful pursuits.
These costs, of course, also tend to compound. When
you combine an active Twitter presence with a dozen other attention-demanding
online behaviors, the cost in life becomes extreme. Like Thoreau’s farmers, you
end up “crushed and smothered” under the demands on your time and attention,
and in the end, all you receive in return for sacrificing so much of your life
is a few nicer trinkets—the digital equivalent of the farmer’s venetian blinds
or fancier pot—many of which, as shown in the Twitter example above, could
probably be approximated at a much lower cost, or eliminated without any major
negative impact.
This is why clutter is dangerous. It’s easy to be
seduced by the small amounts of profit offered by the latest app or service,
but then forget its cost in terms of the most important resource we possess:
the minutes of our life.
Another optimization that was common among the digital
minimalists was to remove social media apps from their phones.
Because they can still access these sites through their computer browsers, they
don’t lose any of the high-value benefits that keep them signed up for these
services. By removing the apps from their phones, however, they eliminated
their ability to browse their accounts as a knee-jerk response to boredom. The
result is that these minimalists dramatically reduced the amount of time they
spend engaging with these services each week, while barely diminishing the
value they provide to their lives—a much better personal technology process
than thoughtlessly tapping and swiping these apps throughout the day as the
whim strikes.
By contrast, if you think of these services as
offering a collection of features that you can carefully put to use to serve
specific values, then almost certainly you’ll spend much less time using them.
Finding useful new technologies is just the first step
to improving your life. The real benefits come once you start experimenting
with how best to use them.
At the core of the Amish philosophy regarding
technology is the following trade-off: The Amish prioritize the benefits
generated by acting intentionally about technology over the benefits lost from
the technologies they decide not to use. Their gamble is that intention trumps
convenience—and this is a bet that seems to be paying off.
The very act of being selective about your tools will
bring you satisfaction, typically much more than what is lost from the tools
you decide to avoid.
The digital declutter focuses primarily on new
technologies, which describes apps, sites, and tools delivered through a
computer or mobile phone screen. You should probably also include video games
and streaming video in this category.
Take a thirty-day break from any of these technologies
that you deem “optional”—meaning that you can step away from them without
creating harm or major problems in either your professional or personal life.
In some cases, you’ll abstain from using the optional technology altogether,
while in other cases you might specify a set of operating procedures that
dictate exactly when and how you use the technology during the process.
In the end, you’re left with a list of banned technologies along with relevant operating procedures. Write this down and put it somewhere where you’ll see it every day. Clarity in what you’re allowed and not allowed to do during the declutter will prove key to its success.
This detox experience is important because it will
help you make smarter decisions at the end of the declutter when you
reintroduce some of these optional technologies to your life. A major reason
that I recommend taking an extended break before trying to transform your
digital life is that without the clarity provided by detox, the addictive pull
of the technologies will bias your decisions. If you decide to reform your
relationship with Instagram right this moment, your decisions about what role
it should play in your life will likely be much weaker than if you instead
spend thirty days without the service before making these choices.
You will probably find the first week or two of your
digital declutter to be difficult, and fight urges to check technologies you’re
not allowed to check. These feelings, however, will pass, and this resulting
sense of detox will prove useful when it comes time to make clear decisions at
the end of the declutter.
The goal of a digital declutter, however, is not
simply to enjoy time away from intrusive technology. During this monthlong
process, you must aggressively explore higher-quality activities to fill in the
time left vacant by the optional technologies you’re avoiding.
This period should be one of strenuous activity and
experimentation.
You want to arrive at the end of the declutter having
rediscovered the type of activities that generate real satisfaction, enabling
you to confidently craft a better life—one in which technology serves only a
supporting role for more meaningful ends.
We justify many of the technologies that tyrannize our
time and attention with some tangential connection to something we care about.
The minimalist, by contrast, measures the value of these connections and is
unimpressed by all but the most robust.
To allow an optional technology back into your life at
the end of the digital declutter, it must:
- Serve something you deeply value (offering some benefit is not enough).
- Be the best way to use technology to serve this value (if it’s not, replace it with something better).
- Have a role in your life that is constrained with a standard operating procedure that specifies when and how you use it.
Your monthlong break from optional technologies resets
your digital life. You can now rebuild it from scratch in a much more
intentional and minimalist manner. To do so, apply a three-step technology
screen to each optional technology you’re thinking about reintroducing.
This process will help you cultivate a digital life in
which new technologies serve your deeply held values as opposed to subverting
them without your permission. It is in this careful reintroduction that you
make the intentional decisions that will define you as a digital minimalist.
"Running is cheaper than therapy."
Regular doses of solitude, mixed in with our default
mode of sociality, are necessary to flourish as a human being.
There’s nothing wrong with connectivity, but if you
don’t balance it with regular doses of solitude, its benefits will diminish.
To help Nietzsche, of course, is not the only
historical figure to use walking to support a contemplative life. In his book,
Gros also points to the example of the French poet Arthur Rimbaud, a restless
soul who set off on many long pilgrimages on foot, often short of money but
rich in passion, or Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who once wrote: “I never do anything
but when walking, the countryside is my study.”
The more you use social media, the less time you tend
to devote to offline interaction, and therefore the worse this value deficit
becomes—leaving the heaviest social media users much more likely to be lonely
and miserable.
As Aristotle elaborates, a life filled with deep
thinking is happy because contemplation is an “activity that is appreciated for
its own sake . . . nothing is gained from it except the act of contemplation.”
In this offhand claim, Aristotle is identifying, for perhaps the first time in
the history of recorded philosophy, an idea that has persisted throughout the
intervening millennia and continues to resonate with our understanding of human
nature today: a life well lived requires activities that serve no other purpose
than the satisfaction that the activity itself generates.
Leisure Lesson #1: Prioritize demanding activity over
passive consumption.
My core argument is that craft is a good source of
high-quality leisure.
Leave good evidence of yourself. Do good work.
Leisure Lesson #2: Use skills to produce valuable
things in the physical world.
Leisure Lesson #3: Seek activities that require
real-world, structured social interactions.
Learning and applying new skills is an important
source of high-quality leisure.
You can’t, in other words, build a billion-dollar
empire like Facebook if you’re wasting hours every day using a service like
Facebook.
Schedule in advance the time you spend on low-quality
leisure. That is, work out the specific time periods during which you’ll
indulge in web surfing, social media checking, and entertainment streaming.
When you get to these periods, anything goes. If you want to binge-watch
Netflix while live-streaming yourself browsing Twitter: go for it. But outside
these periods, stay offline.
There are two reasons why this strategy works well.
First, by confining your use of attention-capturing services to well-defined
periods, your remaining leisure time is left protected for more substantial
activities. Without access to your standard screens, the best remaining option
to fill this time will be quality activities.
The second reason this strategy works well is that it
doesn’t ask you to completely abandon low-quality diversions. Abstention
activates subtle psychologies. If you decide, for example, to avoid all online
activities during your leisure time, this might generate too many minor issues
and exceptions.
When first implementing this strategy, don’t worry
about how much time you put aside for low-quality leisure. It’s fine, for
example, if you start with major portions of your evenings and weekends
dedicated to such pursuits. The aggressiveness of your restrictions will
naturally increase as they allow you to integrate more and more higher-quality
pursuits into your life.
"It really comes down to how you use the technology."
Professionals highlight an effective way
of achieving the balance: approach social media as if you’re the director of
emerging media for your own life. Have a careful plan for how you use the
different platforms, with the goal of “maximizing good information and cutting
out the waste.” To a social media pro, the idea of endlessly surfing your feed
in search of entertainment is a trap (these platforms have been designed to
take more and more of your attention)—an act of being used by these services
instead of using them to your own advantage. If you internalize some of this
attitude, your relationship with social media will become less tempestuous and
more beneficial.
Hollier and Tang posted a manifesto that opens with a
diagram that reads: “Your [clock symbol] = Their [money symbol].”
Adopting digital minimalism is not a onetime process
that completes the day after your digital declutter; it instead requires
ongoing adjustments.
No comments:
Post a Comment