In the New Year, Resolve to be More Human

If there was any question about what social changes and technological advancements would characterize the 20s, it has been answered. The ways we live, socialize, educate, and build families have been creeping toward isolation and away from community for decades, but the trend has moved into a frightening overdrive. In just the last few years, rapid and widespread adoption of artificial intelligence, to the point of virtual ubiquity both in personal and professional settings, has changed the landscape of what it means to think, create, and interact with the wider world, furthering trends set in motion by social media. Our political landscape has never been more fraught, fractured, and devoid of substance, and it’s having dangerous implications. The general public’s retreat from social and civic life has never been more pronounced.

These are not vibes-based observations. They are objective truths. Research shows that users of ChatGPT have the lowest levels of brain engagement compared to control groups, and some users report delusions that their chatbot is a real person. Surveys report that people’s trust of strangers is lower than ever and participation in substantive political or community organizing is exceedingly rare. There is increasing evidence that social media is making us sadder, dumber, and more extreme. A dearth of affordable housing in vibrant, walkable communities means people are living their lives increasingly in virtual solitude.

These issues are systemic. The federal government and venture capitalists are investing so massively in artificial intelligence that its omnipresence was largely inevitable. Tech companies, with their deep pockets and armies of lobbyists, have never been compelled to regulate their content in a way that protects children. Conservative demagogues, strengthened by algorithms that prey on users, are spreading disinformation and hatred at a nearly unstoppable clip. Decades of misguided federal housing and transportation policies, combined with entrenched, monied local interests, have made the building and revitalization of urban cores an afterthought, and ushered in a century of disconnectedness. All of that to say, it is difficult for an individual to unplug from the matrix. But that does not absolve us of our responsibility to resist, in whatever small ways we can.

It is hard, in my experience, to communicate how important those small ways can be. It is hard, when faced with systemic ills, to instead acknowledge the trees through the forest. It is hard to view something like shopping local or deleting social media as a form of social and political resistance, but it is. One person cannot change the tide, only a movement can do that. But we see across the country that dedicated, committed citizens are moving the needle.

A neo-Luddite movement has emerged, however small, with people committed to “digital minimalism” and, in some cases, the complete relinquishment of smart phones. Studies have really just begun to quantify the harm done to us by reliance on these devices, but it’s certainly non-zero, particularly for kids. While academics quibble over exactly how bad social media use is for teens, a handful of states are banning cell phone use in schools which, while seeming small, may have an outsized impact on learning outcomes, behavior, and development. At the very least, it gives teachers a fighting chance to instruct their student without distraction, something that has been nearly impossible since the early 2010s.

Technology in general is not getting promising marks on the quality-of-life metric. Making a conscious effort to detach from the algorithms that so dominate our attention is, to borrow a metaphor from Chris Hayes, like Odysseus plugging his ears with beeswax to resist the call of the sirens. That is to say it can require extreme measures, because corporations have designed them to make you both dependent and agitated. Feeling angry all the time at the news or at your extended relatives is a new invention; we can uninvent it and should. Relying on artificial intelligence to write your emails, research your curiosities, and, in extreme cases, be your friend, is already proving to be just as harmful as algorithms, if not worse. That is to say nothing of the impending economic displacement, or the likelihood of the investment in AI being a bubble. We should be extremely concerned about brain atrophy in a society that, let’s face it, was already lacking in critical thinking and empathy.

Countless people are giving up on the boom-and-bust nature of streaming services, the catalogues of which change by the day. The purchasing of “analog” tech has spiked over the last decade, with people buying physical media like DVDs and vinyl records to ensure constant access to the art they love without fear of censorship or disappearance (I recently found out that Amazon’s most popular version of It’s a Wonderful Life is inexplicably abridged to exclude the sequence in which George Bailey sees his town as if he’d never been born which is, of course, the entire point of the movie). When you purchase physical media, particularly newly released music from your favorite artists, you are allowing them to reap the rewards of their talent and hard work. Miserly platforms like Spotify pay these artists virtually nothing. Physical media also makes consuming art a far more deliberate, meditative process. When was the last time you listened to an album from start to finish? They don’t release music like that for no reason. In my experience, putting on a record is also more likely to be a shared experience with other people.

In an era of high mistrust in strangers, just striking up a conversation at a bar is an act of resistance against these forces. Becoming a regular at the bar is even better. Join the Elk’s Lodge or PTA and, congrats, you are in the top 1% of civic involvement in this country, and all it took was a weeknight meeting a month. If there wasn’t a wealth of data supporting the importance of social connectedness, we would still know how important it is because it just feels good. We have allowed, even encouraged, a generation of Americans to believe that seclusion is good. It isn’t! To know your neighbor is to reach beyond your in-group and commit an act of social bridging; that is, to be introduced to someone of a diverse background, belief system, and lifestyle. You will both be better for it. That there are so many TikToks about the cathartic nature of cancelling plans is, in reality, evidence of a deep social sickness.

The forces of NIMBYism continue to relegate housing to the outer reaches of society, far from the social and cultural centers of our communities, despite the evidence that doing so is both environmentally indefensible and a disaster for people’s physical and mental health. But a new wave of youth activism around walkability, accessibility, and affordability is giving them a run for their money. To push for better built environments is actually the easiest entry point to systemic change. As it turns out, a lot of these decisions are made by small, volunteer boards nobody wants to serve on, and the people who bitch on Facebook don’t actually show up to the meetings.

If it’s not obvious, all of these things are related. Someone smarter than me could probably shoehorn these trends into a unified theory of sorts and sell some books. The throughline is that warped incentive structures have torn at the very fabric of American society, culture, and politics. That we are more divided than ever is not by accident, it’s by design. That we feel worse about the world, about ourselves, and about our futures is not surprising, it’s the logical outcome of decades – and a recent acceleration – of separation from one another and separation from the human parts of ourselves. We are addicted to quick fixes, instant gratification, and flitting from one thing to the next. Is it any wonder life feels chaotic when we have the mental equivalent of a hundred fast balls coming at our head every day? Who wouldn’t, then, feel wary of the unknown? This is no way to live.

There are a million forces pushing – insisting – that you be something less than human. There are powerful people who stand to benefit tremendously from your dependence, isolation, and anger. The downsides of our acquiescence are massive and scary. Individual changes can feel small and meaningless, and sometimes they will be. But to refocus yourself on what it means to exist in this time in history and to change the way you participate could end up being just the beginning of a movement. At the very least it will make you feel better.

Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year.

Devon