That Darned 'Like' Icon!

Most of my readers will be aware that there is a very profitable sector called the attention economy. Human beings are social animals, whose brains and hearts thrive on social interaction. Social media platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and all the rest, are marketed as a splendid way to keep in touch with all our friends and family, no matter where they are in the world. 

But since Facebook introduced the 'Like' button in 2009 (and all social media platforms followed suit), coupled with the development of smartphones through which we can access them 24/7, our relationship with social media has become addictive, sometimes even toxic. Or so Cal Newport and many others believe (including me).

In his wonderful book, Digital Minimalism, Newport asks the question, "What specifically makes new technologies well suited to foster behavioral addictions?" (in the form of feeling compelled to regularly check our feeds to see whether our posts have garnered any likes). And he zeros in on two aspects: "intermittent positive reinforcement and the drive for social approval." Newport quotes from Adam Alter's book Irresistible: "It's hard to exaggerate how much the 'like' button changed the psychology of Facebook use. What had begun as a passive way to track your friends' lives was now deeply interactive, and with exactly the sort of unpredictable feedback that motivated Zeiler's pigeons." (Michael Zeiler was a scientist who proved in the 1970s that "rewards delivered unpredictably are far more enticing than those delivered with a known pattern.")

So each time we post something on a social media platform, we are in some sense gambling that our post will garner likes, but cannot predict when or how this will happen. As Newport comments, "the outcome is hard to predict, which, as the psychology of addiction teaches us, makes the whole activity of posting and checking maddeningly appealing."

As I said earlier, human beings are social animals - our brains are wired that way. Social standing and approval have always been important to us. In a social media context, Newport explains, "If lots of people click the little heart icon under your latest Instagram post, it feels like the tribe is showing you approval - which we're adapted to strongly crave. The other side of this evolutionary bargain... is that a lack of positive feedback creates a sense of distress. This is serious business for the Paleolithic brain, and therefore it can develop an urgent need to continually monitor this 'vital' information."

So if we don't get the 'likes', don't get the interaction, we are conditioned to feel sad. Whereas actually, real, offline interactions, face-to-face with someone, are far more rewarding, psychologically. This kind of real world interaction is so much richer than the online variety.

Over the next few days, Unitarians from all over the UK will be gathering in Birmingham for our Annual Meetings. And I am feeling sad, because I am poorly, and so unable to attend. Which has meant that my one opportunity in the year to truly and deeply re-connect with friends from all over the country is gone. I will be missing out on hugs, deep conversations, fascinating new knowledge, and communal worship. All of which are far more rewarding than scrolling through social media feeds.

But I'll be back next year. Have a wonderful time, everyone!

[The irony that I will be posting this on Facebook, which is the only reliable method I know of sharing the post widely with my friends is not lost on me. But I will not be anxiously checking to see how many folk have liked it...]

Embracing Digital Minimalism

 

I only bought Cal Newport’s book, Digital Minimalism, on a whim, because it was on offer as a Kindle daily deal for 99p. But I have found it to be a fascinating and challenging read, which has caused me to reflect seriously about how much time I spend mindlessly browsing on my smartphone – usually either on Facebook or Pinterest – or playing time-consuming games like Match 3D. In fact, I would guess that the total time I spend on social media or playing games is not far short of the ten hours a week Newport mentioned as a typical time spent feeding a Twitter habit. Which has shocked me. I agree with him that “this cost is almost certainly way too high for the limited benefit it returns.”

Although I am not of the generation which grew up with smartphones (those born in the nineties and later) I, like many people of my age, have embraced the possibilities that a smartphone offers – the ability to stay in contact with Unitarians all over the country on Facebook, for example, or to discover wonderful new crochet patterns on Pinterest. And the ability to text my family and close friends to stay in touch when I am out and about is very useful (it would have been marvellous in the days when my husband was delayed on his evening commute from London and I was at home, wondering when he would get back). And I find the alarm and timer and weather forecast functions very useful. And have three prayer or meditation apps, which I use during my morning sit (not all three!)

 My phone and I are not inseparable… when I am out walking, I only pull it out of my pocket to take a photo of something beautiful, that fills me with wonder. And it spends quite a bit of time sitting silently in my handbag. Unlike some people, who seem to have their phones in their hands all the time and seem to prioritise connecting with the digital world almost more than connecting with the people they are with. It always makes me sad when I see people allegedly out for a meal together, who spend more time texting absent friends or scrolling through news feeds than in talking with their dinner partner. Or someone walking with a child, who is trying to engage their attention, but they are too busy looking at their phone to notice. Yet who am I to judge? If I had grown up with a smartphone, as the younger generation has, I would quite possibly have done the same.

Newport’s book has made me uneasily conscious that my relationship with my smartphone is not an entirely healthy one. It is not simply my servant, enabling me to do things I could not otherwise have done, like letting my husband know I’ve arrived somewhere, or staying in touch with my adult children. Slowly, insidiously, my phone has become my go-to method of filling odd moments of time. I find myself checking Facebook or scrolling through Pinterest in the evenings, when Maz and I are watching something together on TV. Digital Minimalism has made me conscious of this, has made me ask why I’m doing it.

Reading the book has made me understand that I am not living in consonance with my values. I have allowed the ever-present “convenience” of my smartphone to distract me from being fully present to those I am in the same room with. It has made me appreciate that I have been allowing it to invade my life and to hijack time when I should enjoy space and silence and being in community with my loved ones.

So it is time for me to do a re-set. I have deleted some apps from my phone and silenced all notifications except phone calls and texts. I have announced on Facebook that I will only be checking it once a day, for ten minutes, and have asked that anyone who needs to get in touch more urgently to ring me, e-mail me or text me. Because I want to live my life well, to be completely present to my family, my friends and what I am experiencing in the present moment, to make sure that each of my todays is “well lived”. I have decided to relegate my phone to a back seat, and only bring it out when using it adds some real value to my life.

 What might “living today well” look like for you?