Читать книгу Numb - Charles R. Chaffin - Страница 9

Josh is facing a pretty normal Tuesday. The alarm on his smartphone rings at 7 a.m. and as soon as he turns it off, he immediately starts exploring his social media newsfeeds. One Facebook friend posted a picture of a sloppy Big Mac that he ate at McDonald's; another posted that she did not like the newest Netflix series (but is binge‐watching it nonetheless), and Josh's cousin shared a political rant predicting the end of the republic (again). Josh then questions his own selfie on Instagram and wonders if he should have used a filter; it had been two days and not many “likes.” He wonders whether he should take it down. Has his ex seen the picture? Does it look like he's gained weight? Josh then gets lost in a scroll of Instagram posts from friends as well as a slew of strangers whom he follows. He explores all of the vacation pictures that several friends posted and wonders why he hasn't had a vacation like that in years. He asks himself, “How do they find the time and money to travel around the world like that? I wish that were me.”

As a part of his daily routine getting ready for work, Josh listens to the morning news in the background to hear the traffic and weather reports. Another accident on the freeway means either an alternate trip or a late arrival to the office. He asks himself whether he should skip breakfast to make up some of the time. His mind returns to the selfie. Maybe skipping breakfast would be a good idea if he has gained weight. He thinks briefly about what an exercise regimen might look like. He hates running and wonders how much a gym membership might cost. Josh's attention shifts back to the news, where he hears about the pain and suffering from yesterday's typhoon in the Pacific as well as the latest drama unfolding on the set of The Bachelor. He hears the latest report on the market and wonders briefly about the status of his 401(k) and when and if he will be able to retire. He wonders how much longer he can work, and how much longer he wants to work at his current job. Throughout, his attention on the news of the day is intermittent as his mind also wanders to a wide range of topics. Does his youngest really need braces? Should he get a haircut? How should he approach today's meeting with his team?

Upon arrival at the office (he was 15 minutes late), Josh sees dozens of emails that require his attention. He thumbs through each of them, getting a sense of the topics and determining which may be a priority. He has no time to respond to any of them as he begins to tackle a packed Tuesday agenda. His first meeting had two interruptions from staff members who needed a decision regarding a completely unrelated topic. Josh shifted his attention quickly to make the urgent decision before returning his focus to the content of the meeting. As his colleague shared some of her ideas regarding a new project, Josh's mind wandered back to one of the two decisions he just made, reflecting upon whether it was the right choice or not. He misses some of what his team member is saying during his reflection. As he focuses back on what she is saying, his phone vibrates with a push notification of a text from his youngest daughter. He fights the urge to read the text during the meeting. His mind then wandered as he considered why she could possibly be texting so early in the day. Was she sick? Was it another issue in her biology class? He focuses his attention back to the meeting, nodding his head to indicate that he is paying attention even as text messages and reflections have taken his attention away. Josh's day continues with meetings and rare appearances in his workspace, which also brings with it several interruptions from both his boss and co‐workers, all of whom need something from him right away. Josh stares at his voluminous email inbox sporadically but spends little time reading and responding as his attentional focus switches from person to person, meeting to meeting, and push notification to push notification. By the end of the day, Josh has little time to develop the two reports that are due by the end of the week. Each time he begins to work on them, someone comes to his desk with a question, derailing his attention, and in some cases taking his work down an unexpected rabbit hole.

Josh's only companion throughout the entire day is his smartphone. It is on the table in front of him during meetings, in his hand when walking to lunch, and next to him while he is at his desk. He averages about three to four hours of screen time per day. Sometimes he checks his phone to respond to a text message and sometimes he is reading a push notification via one of the news apps. As with his email inbox, he also has a tendency to scroll mindlessly through the endless newsfeed on social media between meetings and phone calls. Whether at work or at home, Josh will check his social media apps after posting something to see if anyone has responded and sometimes he picks up his phone to see if he has those three tiny bubbles that indicate a response to his text is forthcoming. And sometimes he checks his cell phone for no real reason. If his phone vibrates, Josh responds by at least looking at his screen, indicating that at least some portion of his attention is regularly focused on the device, even if it is facedown.

Many of our days are not unlike Josh's. We are all living within a tidal wave of information and it is seemingly coming from all angles. Just within the environment around us, our brains are absorbing everything that our senses have to offer, whether sights, sounds, smells, or touch. We focus on the speech of those around us, deciphering their meaning and (hopefully) communicating an adequate verbal and nonverbal response. Internal and external distractions bring with them additional information requiring us to sift through each to determine what is meaningful and worthy of a response. Through technology, we have access to 24‐hour news cycles that are constantly racing to bring breaking news, sensationalized videos, and mountains of opinion. The scandals and tragedies, each of which get their short 15 minutes of fame, seem to become more and more vividly detailed as competing news sources race not only to be the first, but perhaps to be the most shocking. Before the beginning of the commercial break comes the pull to keep you engaged, asking questions that once again raise an internal alarm of some sort. “Is America dying a slow and gruesome death before our very eyes? Find out in 90 seconds.” How can we turn away? I have to know if America is going to be happy and healthy. Routinely, a 10‐minute commitment to catch up on the day's news turns into 45 minutes of sensationalism, opinions, and sometimes outrage – and I am not sure they ever mentioned what will happen to America after the commercial break!

On social media, we engage, post, and retweet regularly, hoping for the likes and comments that seem so prized. Instagram has created a virtual sweatshop of people diligently working to select just the right selfie with the perfect filter. We perform the endless scroll on Facebook to observe the curated lives of our friends while we curate our own lives for them. Within the past several years, many of us have developed the habit of doomscrolling, perusing our social media newsfeed for what we expect will be more bad news. It can become a regular diet of news regarding political turmoil, and economic and racial inequality, maybe garnished with a pandemic for good measure. We engage and reengage those within our echo chambers, receiving confirmation of our positions. Like those seeking attention through selfies, many within the echo chambers stretch the boundaries of the truth, using less than credible sources to gain affirmation within their tribe. The wildest conspiracy theories sometimes garner the highest amount of attention. In response, the algorithms serve us up more of it, basing new content in our newsfeeds upon what we have previously engaged.

Through the use of algorithms, YouTube recommends millions of videos to users based upon our previous viewing habits. As a platform that allows users to post content that has little to no vetting process, there is something for just about every mainstream and radicalized belief. With so many videos, the algorithms on YouTube are like a good waiter at an all‐you‐can‐eat pancake breakfast: serving you up more of exactly what you want, without judgment. We engage and reengage on social media for that dopamine high of receiving both new information as well as attention that comes in the form of likes and comments. We spend hours per day, logged in and sharing curated aspects of our lives, to get that dopamine hit and perhaps also searching for connectivity with others. There is a sad irony that billions of us are connected, yet so many feel isolated and alone. In many cases, we turn to social media for connection, sacrificing many forms of authenticity that come from shared experiences and deeper connections with friends and loved ones.

We generate more data than ever. According to the Data Never Sleeps 5.0 Report, from 2016 to 2018, we created 90% of all of the data ever created in the world in just two years. Every day, 1.5 billion people are on Facebook. Every second, 456,000 tweets and over four million YouTube videos are viewed. Every minute, we send 16 million text messages, swipe on Tinder close to one million times, and send over 150 million emails. Not long ago, the limits to our ability to create, learn, and experience were limited by a dearth of information. Now, in this information age, we are limited by our cognitive capacity to comprehend all of the information that is available to us on a daily basis. Networks, laptops, and smartphones have all evolved to have more capacity, with one notable exception: our brains. We are still functioning with the same brains that our ancestors used thousands of years ago for hunting and procreating and then hunting and procreating some more. With the expanded capacity of technology and all of the information that comes along with it, there is an incredible battle for perhaps your most prized possession: your attention.