Photographer and bookmaker Craig Mod is one of my favorite writers on the web, and his Roden and Ridgeline Newsletters are among of my favorites. In the most recent issue of Roden, entitled Book World, he features an excerpt from Odessa Moshfegh’s new book Death in Her Hands, talking about some kids at computers in the library:
They looked like Benedictine monks sitting there tapping at their keyboards, faces wan in the cold blue glare of their screens. I stood and watched them impatiently. Each of them was agape, mesmerized. I could see that they were connected to something that had immense power over us. This was what happened when the mind-space was the Internet, I thought. One loses one’s sense of self. One’s mind can go anywhere. And at the same time, the mind becomes lame when it is connected to something so consuming.
This all struck close to thome, especially in the current time when most of my socialization and relaxation happens also happens over the Internet in some form or another (which I am not happy about). For me, “Internet as Mindspace” is an idea that didn’t occur to me until I read Moshfegh’s description of it, but as soon as I did it seemed blindingly obvious.
I think at some level, most of us know that being tethered to the Internet in the way described isn’t healthy. Even without being told, we can tell that doomscrolling is slowly eroding our mental health. We can feel, in some subconscious, visceral way, that our ability to process information is quickly reaching a saturation point, that our minds are getting dangerously close to some kind of informational breaking point. We know that we are slowly but surely (and then all at once) losing our sense of selves under a barrage of messages, notifications and stories fired at us over algorithmic feeds. Perhaps we realize that humans have not evolved to be connected, but at a distance, in this way, at all times, and that even though we are very good adaptation machines, maybe we don’t actually want (and shouldn’t have to) adapt to this digital environment.
I know, I know, this is all rich coming from an academic computer scientist who has a PhD in building better networks.
So what are we to do about this situation? Unlike some, I am not of the opinion that we need to disconnect wholesale, that the only way to win this particular game is not to play it. Though our social networks may be digital and intermittent and virtual, they are still our social networks, and for many, our primary or only social ties (whether or not that is a good thing and how to deal with it is a rant for another time). While drinking from a firehose is probably never a good idea, one still requires 8-10 glasses of clean water a day for health and survival.
For my own part, framing connectivity as being tethered to an immensely powerful mindspace seems a step in the right direction. It’s all too easy to pick up the phone and start scrolling until the feed seems like an extension of your mental processes. And having a reminder that your mind is indeed a separate space that can be intentionally disconnected is a step in the right direction. Solitude is not just a case of physical separation, but perhaps more importantly a subjective state in which we are isolated from the products and influences of other minds.
Talking of phones, I now keep Facebook, Twitter and Instagram only on an older phone that lives away from the couch and away from my desk. I still check them on a daily basis, but now I have to actually decide to do so, rather it being the default in the moments my mind has nothing better to do. Does it make posting and using them to stay on top of them harder? Yes, but I find the amount that I actually want or need to do so is actually quite small. Your mileage may vary.
Apart from social media, I’m trying to keep my reliance on the browser to a minimum. As I’ve noted before, I like having as few tabs open as possible. Over the last month or so I’ve also started using a desktop app instead of a browser app where possible (email, Facebook Messenger and Slack are the main ones). It’s good to just shut down something when it’s not in use, clearing up space, both mentally and computationally. My current phone, which gets all my non-social media notifications, stays close, but not too close. It’s about an arm’s length, sitting on my bed, outside my usual field of view when I’m working. It’s close enough that I can turn my head and take a look if I’m not doing anything else, but far enough away that I don’t see it when I’m focused on something else.
As an addendum to Moshfegh, the Internet is not a single mindspace, but a whole bunch of connected and overlapping ones, some more powerfully enticing than others. And with care we can pull them apart, choose to inhabit the ones that matter, the ones that have the most meaning and value to us. I’m a technologist who still believes that technologies can and should be used for personal and societal good. As such, I believe the Internet mindspaces still have value, but we have to know when to step away from them, and learn to keep them separate from our own minds.