You Are You. We Live Here. This Is Now
freddiedeboer.substack.com
freddiedeboer.substack.com
On the other: "Television, The Drug of the Nation" was released in 1991 - there's always been much angst about the impact of media to dehumanise. Not to say we're not in unprecedented times, but still - humans do largely find a way to be human.
One of the intense ironies that strikes me often is that if you look up from the web and spend time "out here" in the world, you realise that people genuinely aren't what they are online. Or - at least - this is my experience, albeit from a backwater Cornish town. People love each other, get hurt, aren't (generally) dicks, spend time being nice, read (some) books. The problems exist, sure - but they're vastly amplified if all you do is spend time with your face in a screen.
I'm often worried about my teens and I nag them accordingly - they do spend too long online and they have sucked on the crack pipes of many of these platforms. But they also - and I give them vast credit for this - have beautiful and meaningful relationships in the real world. They talk and walk and exercise and cry and drink and make mistakes and do great things and make me proud.
The difficulty of life is to be embraced, not rejected. But: I suspect it's not quite as dark as the writer suggests. Humans endure. He is right though - we've all got to keep fighting for it, fighting for the reality of life and the hard knocks that it sometimes brings.
Maybe if you want to be engaged with other people you should understand a little bit of why they take certain medications, or consume certain media, which you don’t particularly find helpful or appealing for yourself.
Personally my meditation helps me to have and maintain capacity for better relationships with the people I want in my life. But the fact that I take medications has served as an unexpected but valuable honeypot for identifying less healthy human relationships too. It’s not that I don’t want to have real, meaningful relationships with people. It’s that explaining for the umpteenth time that my meditation helps me and isn’t whatever boogeyman you’ve imagined makes my relationship with you less healthy and meaningful. The more that reinforces the stereotype in your internal feedback loop, the more that makes me want to spend my time with people who are actually interested in my real experience.
By all means, enjoy presence in whatever aspect of reality you find enriching. Ima be over here doing the same, but away from people judging me for the things that help me function in and enjoy my own life.
What I am saying, there are possibly perspectives on life which you haven’t had the privilege of experiencing, which could make you misunderstand what the author is writing about.
You’re right, I didn’t get the privilege of that life. And I’m not going to go seeking it to satisfy the preferences of people who did.
If I lost my hands but still kept my meds I would be able to find a way to still care for my family and write software. If I kept all my body parts but lost my meds, I wouldn't be able to do any of that.
In the meantime I'm going offline to ride a bike or something
It seems to conflate all of it into one big old-man-yells-at-clouds complaint: tiktok and social media addiction, chatgpt, stimulants, depression, teenagers, helicopter parenting, porn, videogames, sensory overload, being called a snowflake, stuffed animals (?) and on and on it goes. But it never actually brings anything concrete to the table, nor maybe examines how the world teenagers grow up in today might not be the world where the author grew up in 40 years ago.
For example, in that very first screenshot, the first two teenagers say they feel more connected to their friends and social online, while the latter two saying they feel more peaceful. How is that for connecting with yourself and others? It's not like the authors seems to have spent a lot of time talking to these kids to maybe form a better informed opinion. Instead, their writing veers off into nytimes op-eds and big words about the fundamental task of our lives (fundamental to who?) and throw-away culture. I don't think we inhabit the same internet. Mine is full of dedicated artists and researchers and hackers and students and youtube creators (hide the kids!) creating amazing videos. Heck, just spend one day on HN and click all the obscure stuff showing up on the frontpage.
As an autistic person, online was indeed where things where calm, peaceful, and where I could be social at my own rhythm. It's only later in life that I figured out that that's where I am grounded, that's where I can grow, instead of pretending to connect in the real world.
It's one thing to criticize a specific aspect of digital culture, and maybe come up with some facts; it's another to just put everything in a blender and pretend there is wisdom in calling it terrible.
(edit: typos)
May I ask why not? Why does the critique have to be a specific aspect? How specific does one have to be before it’s “wisdom”?
The author appears to be trying to articulate a common pattern across behaviours that our culture and technology enable at the moment. To reflect on how our behaviour and lifestyle has changed drastically and its hard to see the big changes because they happen so slowly.
That some people are thriving is obvious (to you), but many obviously aren’t (to the author). One group’s experience doesn’t mean the other’s doesn’t exist.
I'd have a very different take on the article if the author told their own story of (tiktok + adderall + chatgpt + porn + stuffed animals + calling people snowflakes) and how it was not a good life and turned it around, and would definitely see the wisdom in that.
Just enumerating what somehow triggers you and turning it into a tirade about how others should their life, not something I consider very wise. Obviously it will still resonate with individuals who struggle (as seen in the comments), but it will also further cement the grumpy old grandpa "kids these days suck" attitude (as seen in the comments too).
We should all think about that sometimes.