We All Screen For i-Screens

I'm still finding it hard to get my head around the fact that there are people who think modern life is too easy. 

I mean, I just don't get it. At all. Sure, navigation is easier because you can outsource that to Google Maps, and you can order takeaways online, yes... and that's what's shutting down your critical thinking skills ? You don't have five hundred thousand other things demanding your attention instead ?

Wow. Must be nice. I only wish I had that problem.

Some have it that technology itself is the issue, and that we should claw back a more manual existence, both mentally and physically. I'm not entirely without sympathy here : as I've said before, I do think single-purpose "devices" like books are inherently better for developing focus and deep thought than devices which are designed to be multi-functional. Of course, in practise we need both sorts, but I think this maximal focus is particularly important for children. Reducing reliance on tech in schools is perfectly sensible, not least because kids will find their own ways to distract themselves regardless.

A good learning trajectory, I think is to first learn the fundamentals, do enough of the really hard basics yourself such that you develop a solid intuition for it, then gradually move up to dealing with the higher-level stuff, outsourcing the low-level aspects to dedicated tools. Do at least some addition and multiplication yourself before handing it over to a calculator; do at least a few Fourier transforms and differential equations the hard way before letting a computer handle it; look through an eyepiece before relying on a telescope's CCD*. Even if you forget the details later – and you will – you'll still be far better equipped to spot when things go wrong and figure out solutions. You'll also learn critical and analytical thinking along the way, and maybe even a little wisdom. Those kinds of skills have much broader applicability.

* Though there is no case whatever to be made for going back to an era in which you needed an acoustic coupler to send emails. Sometimes simplifying things is just good.

Then, so my pedagogical theory goes, you can start to ease off on the low-level stuff. To keep doing everything from first principles, solving every equation by hand, doing every task the hard way, is largely counter-productive, or even self-destructive, and futile. No, the point is that by having earned these core skills, you can free up your cerebral burden to concentrate on the bigger picture : deciding what problems to solve, how you want to solve them, and of course why. Your mind is still fully engaged, it's just doing less of the slog-through stuff (though it should probably also keep doing at least some of this) and more of the philosophy. 

This is likely true in general, it's just much more important when you're young because you have so much more to learn anyway. So yes, reduce tech even to zero for the youngest, then gradually introduce it at later stages of children's development. 

In that sense, I completely agree with Wes Streeting* that we should both reduce screen time for the youngest children and also more carefully monitor and regulate it for older children. That's common sense. Children need more sources of stimulation, and need to learn how to interact with each other far more than they need to learn how to use computers. Plenty of time for that later. 

* I had a lot of respect for the man until he decided he secretly loathed working for Keir Starmer for so many years despite being one of the most prominent faces of the refurbished Labour Party. Nevertheless, he's right about this. 

But for adults, I think "screens" as a being the, or even a, cause of society's ills doesn't have much merit to it. Multi-functionality is probably a bigger contribution, just because it's innately easier to get distracted and lose focus with a device that can do essentially unlimited things : if your main means of working is also your entertainment system, then it would be a rare person indeed who never got distracted by anything. 

Still, I think most people learn to overcome this. Most people are not so lacking in self-control that they find the mere presence of a shiny object irresistible.

No, I think the real problem is exactly as set out in this Aeon piece : it's a deliberate design problem. It's the way apps and social media have been constructed to form addictive, habit-forming, compulsive behaviours. It's not that they're just easy to use in a way which makes you want to continue out of a sense of progression and accomplishment – these kinds of apps aren't the pinnacle of productive user experience. It's more like they feed a constant low-level stream of dopamine, a sense that if I keep going just a bit longer, I'll get to the good stuff... which never arrives. We keep going out of a compulsion that's much harder to override than a genuine desire to continue in a task we actually enjoy.

Or, worse, they continuously enrage rather than engage. The brain seems to relish in arguing and it's addictive. Culture wars and Karens seem to strike at something deep in the subconscious.

To digress slightly, as this other article points out, unchecked complaining wires us to see the world differently, to insist that absolutely everything is awful and sink into a pit of doing nothing but whining. Complaints become a reflex action which overrides real thinking. It's such a common problem, and kudos to the article for noting this as a major symptom of the "these days" fallacy. That one in particular winds me up the wrong way (so I guess this is the wrong time to rant about it).

I think this sort of attitude is exactly what the press feed on : the tabloids in particular, but not exclusively. They present everything in the worst possible light. They make us believe, as the ancients did, that progress is impossible. They cultivate the death of hope for the sake of immediate profit. They seek out a deeply (small-c) conservative mindset, so common in the pre-modern era, the same one* which kept social change and improvement at bay for thousands of years. Both progress and conservatism tend to be self-reinforcing : progress by immediately normalising every development such that progressive voices always have something to complain about, and conservatism by insisting that nothing ever really changes so it isn't worth trying. Mix them together and it's all too easy to degenerate into nothing except perpetual whining**.

* I recommend making the time to watch this video as well as the one in the previous link. They're both more nuanced than the somewhat hyperbolic rhetoric I've adopted here, which should not be taken literally.
** PLEASE, for the love of sanity, just shut the fuck up for five fucking minutes about Donald Fucking Trump. 

And with digital devices this is ramped up to eleven. Which swings me nicely back to the Aeon piece I want to concentrate on. Because, it's not the devices themselves that are responsible for this. They just make this much, much easier to do. No, the problem lies with the human beings designing the algorithms, deliberately keeping everyone pissed off so they can't think rationally and see through this endless stream of utter garbage.

Consider a simple observation. The same person who cannot get through a novel can watch a three-hour video essay on the decline of the Ottoman Empire. The same teenager who supposedly lacks attention span can maintain game focus for hours while parsing a complex narrative across multiple storylines, coordinating with teammates, adapting strategy in real time. That’s not inferior cognition. It’s different cognition. And the difference isn’t the screen. It’s the environment.

...The fragmentation correlates not with screens in general but with specific design patterns: notification systems, variable reward schedules, infinite scroll. These are choices made by specific companies for specific economic reasons. They are not inherent properties of the medium.

Though I would interject to point out that this doesn't mean there isn't a real problem with declining attention spans, it's just that the cause is not the digital or screen-based nature of the entertainment. And spending hours on a complex game, where things are constantly changing, isn't really the same as spending hours on a single difficult problem. But I take the point that not all forms of modern approaches are by any means bad, especially the tendency towards multi-hour YouTube videos.

In the 18th and early 19th centuries, novel-reading itself was the existential threat. The terms used were identical to today’s moral panic: ‘reading epidemic’, ‘reading mania’, ‘reading rage’, ‘reading fever’, ‘reading lust’, ‘insidious contagion’. The journal Sylph worried in 1796 that women ‘of every age, of every condition, contract and retain a taste for novels … the depravity is universal.’

The predicted disasters were apocalyptic. J W Goethe’s epistolary novel The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774) was blamed for triggering copycat suicides across Europe. Johann Peter Frank’s six-volume A System of Complete Medical Police (1779-1819) listed ‘reading of poisonous novels’ among the causes of suicide. Arthur Schopenhauer in 1851 described ‘bad books’ as ‘intellectual poison’. If the manipulative potential of novels were truly that great, as one historian dryly notes, women would have been eloping in hordes.

They didn’t. The disaster never materialised. But the panic served its purpose.

The expansion of literacy from a tiny elite to the general population scared a lot of conservatives. The panic wasn’t really about literacy declining. It was about literacy escaping elite control.

The historical pattern is well described, but I don't think much of the modern panic is really all about "elite control". There might be that aspect to it, a sort of snobbery : "you shouldn't be doing this largely harmless thing you enjoy because I never did that, or I just don't like it", rather than much in the way of "you plebs shouldn't learn anything". And to be fair, the author does go on to note that some of the panic arises from people enjoying themselves in the "wrong way" rather than learning the wrong things. 

But the main concern is that the new ways of learning will be genuinely harmful, both in terms of the effects on attention, memory, cognitive skills, and the actual information conveyed. Nobody is now concerned that women will overheat their brains by learning, but people do worry they will be misinformed : this is not the same moral panic as in earlier eras. Still, while digital media is different on all fronts from printed materials... the article is right that this doesn't make it necessarily better or worse. Merely talking to your friends is no more likely to give you the correct information than reading a book or watching a YouTube video is.

Indeed, for all the problems of echo chambers, the internet still gives you vastly better access to genuine expertise than in previous eras. People only remember the classics of literature and forget the trashy novels, the crappy magazines, the stupid TV series of yesteryear, the misinformation and delusions of past ages. We have a survivorship bias, remembering the geniuses but forgetting the contemptible fuckwits of earlier eras (largely because we have out own to deal with).

I would accept that this is all part of the continuous pattern the author describes, and if anything I might say the similarities are actually stronger. Then as now, the concern wasn't (all) about control, but conservatism : the tendency to see anything different as bad... but stemming from legitimate observations that some things the next generation do really are indeed just bad. The mistake is to think the previous generation never did anything equivalent, just because the mistakes they made were different.

What demonstrates that these panics were exaggerated? The predicted disasters never arrive. Adolescent aggression continued after comic book restrictions – because comics weren’t the cause. Novels didn’t trigger mass elopements. Radio didn’t destroy children’s capacity for thought. Each panic uses identical rhetoric: addiction metaphors, moral corruption, passive victimhood, apocalyptic predictions. Each time, the research eventually shows complex effects mediated by content, context and individual differences. And, each time, when the disaster fails to materialise, attention simply shifts to the next technology.

Absolutely fair. Which is not to say that there are never any disadvantages to new approaches at all – there absolutely are – but in terms of the apocalyptic rhetoric, I think all of it is nonsense.

These publications and technologies existed alongside serious thought. The penny dreadfuls didn’t prevent Charles Dickens, John Stuart Mill or Charles Darwin from flourishing. What’s different now isn’t the existence of shallow content, which has always been abundant. What’s different is the existence of delivery mechanisms actively engineered to prevent the kind of attention that serious thought requires. The penny dreadfuls didn’t follow you into your bedroom at midnight, vibrating with notifications.

This distinction matters because it changes everything about the available responses... if the problem is design, then we need design activism and regulatory intervention. The same screens that fragment attention can support it. The same technologies that extract human attention can cultivate it. The question is who designs them, for what purposes, and under what constraints.

Yes, this ! Far from making life too easy, the modern user experience is far, far too difficult. Every single fucking website requires you to click through a list ten feet long to reject cookies, dismiss the "subscribe" box, actively opt-out of signing up for notifications.... The stream of interruptions is what kills attention and renders impotent any attempt at focus. Having digital access to work and entertainment is not the problem at all : having the experience be equivalent to finding oneself in a rowdy nightclub in order to read a short article about snails is where it's all gone wrong. 

At best, technology is a proxy for the real problems : taking ourselves offline will help only because those same problems don't exist in most other media. But there is absolutely no reason whatever why those problems have to exist in our digital worlds.

These aren’t concessions to declining attention spans. They’re recognitions that human understanding has always been richer than any single medium could contain. We’re not abandoning literacy. We’re discovering what literacy meant all along: not just the ability to decode symbols on a page, but the capacity to move fluently between all the ways humans encode meaning.

Exactly. If the goal is to be able to think deeply, to be able to process, analyse, and evaluate complex information, then insisting that there is only one correct way to do this simply wrong.

The pattern I observe repeatedly: people who ‘can’t focus’ on traditional texts can maintain extraordinary concentration when working across modes. They struggle with philosophy textbooks but thrive when they can listen to lectures while taking visual notes, discuss ideas in study groups, and write while pacing. 

We haven’t become post-literate. We’ve become post-monomodal. Text hasn’t disappeared; it’s been joined by a symphony of other channels. Your brain now routinely performs feats that would have seemed impossible to your grandparents. You parse information simultaneously across text, image, sound and motion. You navigate conversations that jump between platforms and formats. You synthesise understanding from fragments scattered across a dozen different sources.

But expansion without architecture is chaos, and that’s where we’ve stumbled. The people who cannot sit through novels aren’t broken. They’re adapted to an environment we built. We hand them infinite information and wonder why they drown. We give them tools designed to fracture attention and blame them when their attention fractures. We built a world that profits from distraction and then pathologise the distracted.

Once again, exactly this. It's the content that matters, not the way it's presented. Those who prefer thinking by discussion should do so (for me, trying this for the low-level stuff is like trying to pee while someone's looking right at me). Those who prefer to read their information alone should be able to, and those who want pre-recorded audio-visual should have it. And deep focus on a complex problem can indeed require multi-modal processing as much as it can solitude and simplicity.

What we need is to prioritise and customise the user experience, facilitating access to the information that's required, when it's required, and in what format. Simply hurling everything at everyone, and making them click away a dozen different unnecessary dialogue boxes to get what they need but then having to organise it themselves, and ejaculating pop-up windows at them at random... this isn't helping anyone. Not in science, not in social media, and not in society.

Not all deep thinking needs to be multimodal though. Clearly, the geniuses of the past were able to manage just fine without any of our modern devices and made the breakthroughs that made our modern world possible. My suspicion is that the process of synthesis, the all-important moment when multiple factors come together to create a new, meaningful statement about the world, is something that happens primarily in the mental domain. The external cognition we use is a necessary precursor to that crucial moment, that threshold when all the collective information we've considered crystallises into a hard, transmissible fact. That moment is a purely mental one.

A genius, then, I might define as someone who can do as much of this process purely in their head as possible. Good for them. But most of us mere mortals need our external supports, and fortunately for us, the impact of any breakthrough depends only on what our discovery is, not how it was made. At least in the terms of knowledge work, rather than insisting that we all refrain from reaching for our digital aids and deliberately make out lives more difficult, what we should be doing is streamlining the experience as much as possible, letting us organise things efficiently, collating and comparing what's relevant while discarding what we find superfluous as we choose. 

Often, this means beginning with a wealth of multi-modal data, sifting and examining in vibrant and unpredictable ways until we eventually reach the key moment of discovery. That the final step usually requires intense focus does not mean the preceding labyrinth should follow the same "everybody fuck off and leave me alone" part of the process. Nor does the fact that the route to discovery is often convoluted and fraught with wrong turns and dead ends mean that we should never try and reduce this as much as possible. 

In both science and society, sometimes we need to struggle and sometimes we need to simplify, and to say it's all just one or the other is just wrong-headed : you want people to think critically about their social media posts, but you don't want them to spend hours selecting the appropriate font; solving a scientific problem should involve some amount of difficulty thought but it shouldn't be debilitating. And simplification is all too often compensated for as we just do more and more of the original activity, or something else comes along that consumes all the time we've saved.

No, I think the road to improving things lies almost entirely in terms of reducing our struggles, not in cultivating them – at least for adults. Maybe one day we'll have to deal with people genuinely getting lazy and stupid because everything is too easy, but that day is probably somewhere – as H. G. Wells predicted – around the year 800,000 AD, not next Tuesday. 

Until then, we should actively work towards more digitisation and more simplification... what we need less of is not technology, but interruptions not of our choosing. We need to minimise unwanted distractions and addiction-forming interfaces. We need designs that respect how people genuinely work, and think in longer timescales : maybe giving everyone dopamine hits is good for quarterly profits, but it's absolutely shit for the economy when, years later, they all forget how to turn their devices on because their brains have been turned to mush by a relentless barrage of doom-scrolling websites that insist they fill in another 300-question survey every twenty minutes.

The Better Angels Of Our Scientific Nature

I've pointed out many times that what seems rational is constantly evolving as evidence changes. If you don't notice things disappearing over the horizon gradually, or the shadow of the Earth on the Moon during a lunar eclipse, then a flat Earth is an entirely sensible thing to believe in.

A contrary view from comes from the New Atheist crowd, who are apt to insist that all of humanity's history would have been better if people had just never believed in anything religious. This is a garbage and meritless claim, for many reasons/ For one thing, as Pratchett pointed out :

“The amount of belief in the world must be subject to an upper limit... It follows that if a major focus of belief is removed, there will be spare belief.”

You can't just stop believing in things by choice. Can't be done. And this follows in part from the above, that at one point, the evidence for the now-discarded ideas seemed very good indeed. Supernatural explanations made a lot of sense, because we understand minds and agency at a much more instinctual level than we do the conservation of momentum or the hysteresis curve. 

It follows, then, that at one point we really had very little option but to believe in supernatural agency for a good many things : we literally have to believe in something, and without a rational explanation available, the gap is filled with angels and demons.

Which leads me in to this thoroughly interesting Aeon essay which examines this in a lot more detail. More than that, it shows how philosophical musings on the nature of angels was anything but the proverbially-empty question : how many angels can dance on the head of the pin, it turns out, is a tremendously useful vehicle for exploring the nature of space and matter. Inquiries may have begun from a world view that now seems preposterous, but the full examination of these early ideas, when done with careful rigour and logic, led directly to some of the scientific notions we now find most fundamental of all.

This view of angels as immaterial ‘intelligences’ became pretty standard in medieval philosophy and theology. But the scholastic period saw an increasing desire to systematise, systematise, systematise. The precise nature or essence of angels became a serious cause for debate, and these debates were not mere thought experiments. Rather, because of the real belief in the existence of angels, theologians and philosophers could think through angels as a way of understanding the nature of the physical world and things like place, bodies and motion. 

This was motivated by significant theological concerns. One concern was that, if angels are immaterial intelligences, then what makes them different to God? For us, our bodies are what make us limited, able to exercise force only directly, such as when I throw a ball. Does this mean angels, having no body, could exist everywhere or act at a distance? This was dangerous territory for theologians, potentially challenging God’s omnipresence and omnipotence.

And again, I've gone on enough times about how Christianity isn't really monotheistic, because if you allow other supernatural powers which aren't under god's direct agency, then you've all but conceded paganism. However, the author here has a much more interesting point : that to make sense of angels conceptually, you have to grapple with basic physics. And no, the "it's just magic" explanation was not enough for medieval theologians.

The view was that angels had to be located (i.e., limited) but without a body. The key to understanding the angelic debates of the scholastic period is to understand what conceptual tools the physics of the day provided. For all intents and purposes, this physics was Aristotle. For Aristotle, physics was simply about things that move and, on his account, bodies don’t move because of gravity or kinetic energy or the warping of spacetime but because of their natures. 

Similarly, there was no concept of absolute space, but rather a concept of ‘place’, which, unlike Newtonian absolute space or Albert Einstein’s spacetime, does not exist entirely independent of the bodies that inhabit it. As the philosopher Tiziana Suárez-Nani points out in Angels, Space and Place (2008), ‘space … as an undifferentiated and homogenous receptacle, was alien to the medieval mind.’ For Aristotle, bodies could not exist without place, which served as a kind of container. Likewise, there had to be bodies for there to be place. In other words, a vacuum is not possible in Aristotle’s view.

I think it's worth pausing for a moment to consider just how profoundly different this is from the modern concept of space. For us, space is a container : it consists of nothing in itself, but it's where everything goes. It's the "fabric" of the Universe which can itself expand, warp, contract etc., but it's not really a physical thing. It's more the reference system we have for other objects. It isn't defined by them, though it is intimately connected*. It can, in principle, be absolutely empty (vacuum energy notwithstanding), and indeed that's exactly what we mean by space itself. The kind of vacuum-abhorring "place" that Aristotle espoused was something altogether different from our modern notion.

* And people say dualism is some sort of mysticism ! Don't worry, I'm not going there today.

So, what has that got to do with angels? If you recall, theological concerns at the time required angels to have a specific location – to be limited and bodiless – in order to avoid angels with limitless power, rendering them omnipotent as well as omnipresent. Normally, the material body of something locates it, so how can immaterial angels be located? Aquinas and others solved this problem creatively, locating angels not by their physical dimensionality but by their operations. Aquinas proposed that an angel has a different type of location than a bodily being. An angel is in a place by virtue of applying its power to the physical objects in a given place. This limited both an angel’s operations and their location, locating them by their operations, rather than by a body.

Right, so you can have angels which aren't omnipotent or omnipresent and are still immaterial and supernatural. Hooray ! But :

Importantly, the Condemnations of 1277 forbade believing that angels are located by their operations rather than by their substance, so Aquinas’ solution for angelic location was now off the table. If an angel exists in a place solely by its operations, as Aquinas claimed, then what happens when it’s not operating? Angels had to be rethought.

Here’s what Scotus did: he made ‘place’ more mathematical, less tied to location and more similar to our notion of dimension. When thought about in terms of dimension, the ‘place’ occupied by an object stays the same as the object moves through locations. In this sense, its ‘place’, redefined as dimension, is the same, even though it changes location. In other words, Scotus, as aptly stated by Lang, ‘neutralises’ place radically. On the Aristotelian account, direction or location were part of the definition of ‘place’. When redefined more mathematically as a kind of dimension, direction is no longer a necessary feature of this new kind of ‘place’. You can have an idea much more like that of ‘space’, something that doesn’t inherently contain ‘up’, ‘down’, ‘left’ or ‘right’ in its definition.

Technically, this meant that God could create a rock in no ‘place’, if place referred to Aristotle’s definition of place, which was a location within the outermost rim of the heavenly spheres. Whereas Aristotle had defined place as a necessary defining feature of physical bodies, Scotus did not. Instead, he created a hybrid account in which something can exist inside the outermost rim of the celestial sphere (occupying place in the Aristotelian sense), but it doesn’t have to; it could equally just occupy space by having dimension outside of that sphere.

And to use another Pratchett quote : all places are indeed one place, but that place is very large. 

Ahem. We even get something akin to the Uncertainty Principle cropping up :

The image Lang uses, citing Scotus, is of a surface that must have colour, but whose colour can be anything. Angels can occupy a place however small or large, just not infinitely so, and they must operate in a place, though they themselves exist in the place indeterminately... To posit angels as immaterial external forces was indeed oddly closer to a classical physics that sees an invisible force like gravity working on bodies externally. In fact, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz accused Newton of having introduced occult forces with his theory of gravity, because gravity seemed to be a supernatural force acting on bodies at a distance.

I mean, it just tells you a lot about human psychology when you find scientists accusing each other of being occult because their rigorous, predictable, mathematical theorems are somehow similar to angels... I'm not sure what exactly it's telling us, but it's certainly a lot, whatever it is. It's interesting to consider "angels" as a proxy for "force", though it would seem very strange to suggest that God ordered the world using ultra-obedient angels rather than just making things go round and round. Why didn't planets move directly according to his will ? Perhaps this again points to a seriously profound mismatch between our modern concepts and the medieval mindset. 

The role angels played in such thought experiments was unique: angels transcended the purely physical world but were still ‘creatures’ that abided by the rules and the logic governing the Universe.. .angels, precisely because of their intermediary status, allowed human beings to think about dimensions of created reality that yet transcended our direct human perceptions.

While it is easy enough to ridicule the suggestion that movement is the result of occult forces such as angels, we cannot, having ascended the ladder of knowledge, so easily kick that ladder out from under ourselves... We equate ‘up’ with ‘more’ when we say ‘the stock market rises’ because when we see, for example, rocks piled up, we learn to equate higher with more. We say we ‘grasp’ an idea because we have experienced reaching for a piece of fruit on a tree. In addition, we have a very hard time imagining a nonphysical thing. What we imagine, when we imagine a soul or an angel or a demon, is some kind of insubstantial, but still ghostly, object.

I would say slightly the opposite on this last point. We have no problems at all imagining ghosts in an abstract sense. Ghost ? Sure, it's a person who can walk through walls, wails around a lot waving chains and making woo-woo noises. Easy peasy. But try and explain how this works on the physical level and we come quickly unstuck. How can it be perceived if it doesn't interact with light ? How can we hear its woo-woo noises if it can walk through solid walls : why would its lungs interact with the molecules of the air, and why doesn't it fall through the floor ? Nevertheless, the imaginary concept of a ghost is simplicity itself.

Although occult forces such as angels and demons may be ridiculed in modern culture as ‘hand-wavey’ explanations of quite logical, down-to-earth scientific phenomena, I would suggest the inverse. That what is most down-to-earth might in fact be to think about the invisible forces of nature as angels, agents, immaterial intelligences with certain properties familiar to us, but amplified. Properties like agency and intention. It is only in thinking through, and with, these more familiar concepts that we can then discover a less intuitive set of concepts, like spacetime, which require grounding in concepts like dimension, body, place and movement. These necessary grounding concepts were sharpened, historically, by thinking through the relationship between the material and immaterial world, and angelology played a significant role in their honing.

And I find myself in strong agreement. I presume that the author doesn't mean that we really should think about things as all being imbued with intentionality or anything like that, only that we naturally do. Such a beginning is our jumping-off point, something we can easily understand in order to progress to the next level. Saying that electrons, in suspiciously Aristotleian-fashion, want to reach the lowest energy state, is a very handy lie-to-children. Pretty soon (sometimes immediately) we realise that the electron doesn't necessarily want anything at all, in the literal sense, but the metaphor helps us understand. Only with that basic concept in hand can we get to the hard mathematics, to try and consider – insofar as our observational data permits us – what's really going on.

Right then, time to write to Dan Brown and tell him to write a blockbuster sequel. I'm sure philosophical musings on the nature of immaterial angels and their implications for cosmology is a guaranteed cinema hit.

The Shock Of The Constantly New

I continue to be impressed enough by my reMarkable tablet that I remain subscribed to their newsletter, although not so much that I have any intention of upgrading until mine breaks.

I rarely do more than glance at newsletters unless there's something especially interesting, and this "newsletter fatigue" is probably something the good people at reMarkable want to think about a bit more carefully. Still, they really do seem goal-oriented with their products far more than they are profit-motivated. They genuinely want you to not only like but actually benefit from their pricey yet highly effective digital notebooks.

This rather short but interesting offering* goes into a bit more detail about some of the thinking strategies they suggest employing. While some of their newsletter content is, as to be expected, advertising in the guise of research, this one isn't. The title "Thinking in the Age of AI" is a complete misnomer, as AI doesn't factor into anything here. It's much more focused on thinking in the age of distractions, which has been a problem for a good while longer.

* It's an 18 page PDF that's probably about two pages of actual content, but it is good content, to be fair.

Instead of being a simple article, this is actually an exercise book designed to help concentration (on your trusty digital notebook, of course). I've not tried this, and I honestly don't see the point of writing down how I feel about my innermost mental states for the sake of my own reflection, but the advice seems sensible enough.

Anyway, they say there are three failures of the modern mind :

1 : Cognitive overload. Self-explanatory, really... when there's too much to process and it all comes at once, nothing gets processed well. Nuance is lost and the response is anxiety, tunnel vision, and even a threat-response style of thinking.

2 : Attentional fragmentation. Closely related, a stream of endless novelty. Even if you could process everything in sequence, constantly switching from topic to topic inevitably means a loss of focus. Worse, and I think here is much their most interesting point, is that modern devices train the brain to expect distraction. The unspoken comment here is that we become dependent on it, because that's what we expect our phones to do... if they stop doing it, we go looking for extra simulation. Turn off notifications and we end up scrolling. And this is bloody exhausting and unproductive.

3 : Meaning drift. If we have constant short-term distractions, then on the longer term we're also having to deal with constant, bigger changes. Change outpaces the brain’s ability to build coherence. Which means that even when we do make sense of things and make progress, the ground keeps shifting from under our feet.

A long time ago I remember having a discussion about why the world feels so politically inept, with one of the main proposals being that the pace of technological change is just too rapid for everyone to keep up with. I was rather skeptical at the time, but now I'm not so sure. Is this because I've gotten older and my thinking less flexible, or have the notifications just been ramped up to 11 ?

I'd like to think it's more the latter than the former. I don't feel any less tech-savvy than I did a decade ago; I've always hated techno-socialising so I can appear more backward than I actually am. I hated Facebook then I hate Tik Tok now. I didn't want to constantly check everyone's status in my PhD days and I don't want a single more WhatsApp alert today than is absolutely necessary. I do, however, very much enjoy writing Python code (with and without AI) and getting most of my exercise in VR games. Safe to say I want more technology in my life, not less.

But what I don't want is the unfocused kind of alert swarm that plagues social media like a ravening horde of locusts. I don't want to subscribe to some website's shitty notifications. I don't want to feel compelled to respond to messages instantly instead of within 24–72 hours. I'm trying to get stuff done here : I can't stop for a few minutes without losing my whole train of thought. It does my head in. Sometimes it almost physically hurts.

So maybe this kind of technological "progress" does have a role to play in the explaining the broader political narratives after all. Not through misinformation, but undermining cognitive capabilities in a far more insidious way : overwhelming the brain's capacity for rational thinking by a constant demand for attention, attention, attention. 

In fairness, I can imagine that the larger technological developments may feel like they undermine our basis for how we go about our daily lives, because as we all know...

Lord Vetinari represented stability. It was a cold and clinical kind of stability, but part of his genius was the discovery that stability was what people wanted more than anything else. He’d said it to Vimes once, in this very room, standing at this very window: “They think they want good government and justice for all, Vimes, yet what is it they really crave, deep in their hearts? Only that things go on as normal and tomorrow is pretty much like today.”

... but I think the kind of things which undermine that feeling of desirable, predictable stability is not nearly so much technological as political. And rather than just the clichéd view of childhood as being a golden era and everything went downhill since then, I'll point to the 2008 credit crunch as the point where things started to go very much awry. Then of course we have Brexit, Trump, Covid, Ukraine, the ongoing pointless conflict in the Middle East... it's all of these things, I think, that undermine people's basic world view. 

These are the sorts of things that cause people to lose hope and confidence, not the mere existence of smartphones and virtual reality headsets. The fact that energy supplies are shifting to renewables is not in itself a source of anxiety : if it's a factor at all (except for those who'll need to shift employment) then this comes about only from sensationalised reporting in the fascist side of the press, not because everyone is low-level scared of windmills.

No, the technological aspect does feed into all this but only thanks to its extreme commercialisation. The need to constantly keep aware of pointless developments on a wide variety of topics we're not really interested in from people we've never met... that feeds into the general malaise. And I don't think it even needs to do anything so direct as to decrease out attention spans : being addicted to this kind of crap can simply be fucking depressing.

So what can we do about it ? Well, I don't propose to Put The World To Rights today, and as I said, all this all seems like a second-order effect on the grand scheme of things anyway. But the article does at least offer some good ideas for getting one's shit together. And this doesn't involve shutting everything down completely, but rather in managing things in a more structured way :

1 : Calm down and choose one thing to do next. Breathing and stretching exercises to get your brain to shut up for a minute, and then carefully think about a single thing you could do to meaningfully progress in your task. And then just get on with that for at least ten minutes.

2 : Deep work for 90 minutes. I hear various claims that the human attention span is actually much shorter than this, but I don't believe them. In my experience, when in a good state of flow, 90 minutes does sound about right. This is as much time as it takes to really get to grips with a complex problem and make some useful progress before fatigue begins to sit in. Turn off all distractions during this block, they say, and it's hard to argue with that. The compulsion to check on the latest alert is just too overwhelming.

3 : Decompress for 20 minutes. Take a break to do some housework or whatnot. Change your mental input so that your brain can properly consolidate what it just learned.

4 : Open attention for 30 minutes. Turn on the notifications again, check those messages, allow more free-flowing, unstructured, unfocused attention. Deliberately taking in new input can help in refreshing thinking and even fostering creativity.

5 : Review. Try to keep track of what specifically works for you and what doesn't. How much time do you really need in each block ? Which distractions do you need to take the most care to avoid ? Do you need to work like this every day or maybe just once per week ? Try to schedule this approach ahead of time.

I will add just a few things that help me manage the hellscape that is modernity. First, to-do lists are absolutely essential. I use a combination of simple notepad files (for the more complex descriptions) and the Microsoft ToDo app, which is useful because it allows scheduling, multiple items in lists, lists of lists, and has a very satisfying "ding" sound every time you mark a task for completion. It's also a handy way to jot down all those facts you need semi-frequently (I have a dedicated list "Things to Remember"), for which it has a search function. I also try and be both realistic and flexible here. I try not to schedule more for a day than I can actually do, but if I don't get something done, I just move it to the next day and don't let this become just another thing to worry about.

Second, one aspect where I do record my inner mental state is when I can't avoid having to stop. Writing down the key part of what I was thinking – what I was suspecting might be going on and what I want to try next – helps enormously in getting back into the flow state much faster. If I have to stop for a longer period, like going on holiday, I right a lengthier description, including where all the files are and a short description of what led me to this point in the process (sometimes my "What You're Working On Right Now" file might be a page or two in length). I've long since given up on the fool notion that "I'll just remember it", because I bloody well won't. 

And third, I go for a walk. Sometimes I continue thinking about what I was working on, sometimes I use it as a dedicated break. Either way, the different environment is mentally stimulating without being overwhelming, and even when I think I've had a great idea (Microsoft's app is again good for recording these), the enforced inability to try it out right there and then prevents my brain from over-focusing on the problem. Forcing a temporary shutdown is important, as while it is possible to maintain flow for longer than 90 minutes, I doubt most people can do much longer very often. In my experience, if you try this, you get a sort of false flow : something that can feel like you're making progress but rarely accomplishes anything productive. Forcing myself to stop is by far the best way to avoid this.

Well, that's what mostly works for me, anyway. It doesn't make the world a better place, but it makes my small corner of it a bit more manageable.