Mindful Unplugging
I noticed my breath, body, and emotions most when I was outside walking to and from class. Because I wasn’t feeling anxious about when I would receive the next text or notification, I noticed myself taking deeper and steadier breaths. At times, I felt very content because I was observing my surroundings. This happiness peaked during the day, when I was walking around outside.
—Nina
Having established that I wasn’t allowed to check Facebook took off any pressure I might otherwise feel to check it, and made me realize how much pressure I do sometimes feel to check the site. . . . Telling myself I simply wasn’t allowed to check the site freed me of this. I was able to acknowledge that, realize I probably wasn’t really missing anything important, and do something else.
—Henry
When I notice the internal tug to engage with email or Facebook and there is not a real need, I will be mindful of it and ask myself “Why?” I might still engage with these technologies, even if a “need” does not exist, but it will be with a more mindful interaction.
—Kathleen
In the preceding chapters, we’ve explored a single information practice, such as email, as well as the interleaving of multiple practices. You’ve seen how it’s possible to carefully observe your current online habits, noticing what’s working well and what isn’t, and to use these observations as the basis for making helpful changes. You’ve also seen how it’s possible to adopt a more focused attitude toward a single practice—or even toward multitasking—so that you’re better able to focus on the task at hand and bring yourself back to it when your attention wanders. The emphasis of all this work has been on your online activity.
But none of us is online, or plugged in, all the time—although some of us may be approaching such a state of affairs. There are times in the day when we’re not using a laptop or a cell phone, when we’re not listening to music through earphones, when we’re not watching TV or listening to the radio. This may be because we’re unintentionally separated from our devices (we accidentally left our phone home), because we’ve lost Internet or cell phone access, because we’re forbidden access in certain social settings, because we’ve consciously chosen to unplug, or because we’re asleep and unconscious.
In recent years a cultural discussion has opened up around the meaning and value of being unplugged. Some of this discussion has focused on the importance of being completely offline—going completely device-free—while some of it has focused more on limiting access to certain media and technologies, such as video games, or restricting access in certain social settings or for certain age groups. Questions being asked today include: Should infants be forbidden screen time before a certain age? How much television or video gaming is acceptable for children at different ages? Which, if any, digital technologies should be permitted in the classroom? How much value is there in creating “tech Sabbaths” or regular “Sabbath time”—periods when individuals, families, and groups agree to disengage from the swirl of digital media and technologies?
In addition to discussing and debating the merits and methods of unplugging, more and more people have actually been experimenting with unplugging. These experiments are taking place in schools, in workplaces, and in families. There is even a national movement, which has organized an annual National Day of Unplugging. Drawing their inspiration from the traditional notion of the Sabbath, the founders of this initiative have created a “Sabbath Manifesto.”1
As first articulated in Judaism, and later taken up by Christianity and Islam, the Sabbath is a day of rest, a day to disengage from mainstream market culture. While in its origins it is clearly a religious institution, it has left a major impression on secular culture, giving rise to the modern notion of the weekend. In the 1820s in the United States, the Christian Sabbatarian movement used its belief in the sanctity of the Sabbath to make Sunday a nonwork day. And in the 1920s, American Jewish and labor leaders were successful in claiming Saturday as a second “day off.” Time will tell whether this secular formulation of Sabbath time, centered on our devices, will catch on, and whether it can counteract the breakdown of the distinction between the workweek and weekend, which took a hundred years of political activism to establish.2
If you take the Sabbath as a literal model for unplugging—as the organizers of the National Day of Unplugging have done—then for a twenty-four-hour period you would abstain from all digital media and technology. This may work for some of us. But it is hardly the only possibility. Deciding which technologies to abstain from and when is a complex process, one that we will investigate in this chapter.
Ultimately, I believe, unplugging can help us discover an appropriate balance between our online and our offline activities. When is being online worthwhile and healthy: when does it truly serve our purposes? And when is it unhelpful or unhealthy: when does it distract us from what matters most? I don’t believe that there is just one right answer to these questions, for all people, for all times. The answers we arrive at will depend on a variety of factors, including our cognitive and emotional makeup, our stage in life, our current life circumstances. There is just no substitute for investigating these circumstances for ourselves. And this is what I will help you do as you decide what to unplug from and for how long, and as you formulate personal guidelines for your future online and offline behavior.
When we disengage from the devices and apps we use regularly, it should hardly be surprising if we miss them, even long for them at times. To characterize this relationship, we sometimes say we are “addicted.” Indeed, at various points in the exercises, my students will use this word, as Sophie does when she says, with a touch of humor: “I am an email addict and if there was an institution or a rehab center for email addicts, I would definitely join.” References to addiction appear most frequently in the unplugging exercise, perhaps because it is here that students are asked to abstain from significant technologies and apps for a day or more. Yet there is potentially a difference between our common, everyday use of the word and its clinical meaning. And, it turns out, there is currently a debate within the scientific community about what it means to be addicted to a digital technology or an app—and even whether the term “addiction” is appropriate. If this is of interest or concern to you, I refer you to Appendix E, where I summarize the current debate and offer you my own view on the matter.
Overview of the Mindful Unplugging Exercise
At heart this exercise is quite simple: Stop engaging in certain online practices for a period of time and observe what happens. To do this, you will need to make two main decisions: which practices and technologies to abstain from and for what period of time. Let’s consider each of these decisions in turn.
First, what should you give up? It would be ideal if you could abstain from all digital information technologies and practices for a period of time. Of course, to do so, you’d have to decide for yourself what “all” actually means—a word that in this case is clearly open to interpretation. You might decide, as some people do, not to use any of your main digital devices (your laptop, phone, or tablet) and any of the applications that run on them. But if your life circumstances make it difficult to do this, you might add back certain practices or apps that you just can’t do without during the period of the fast—making phone calls, for example. Or, taking a minimalist approach, you could decide just to give up one practice or application, such as email or Facebook. Whatever you choose to abstain from, though, make sure that it has a real and important place in your life. Obviously, there’s little point in letting go of something that’s unimportant or rarely used.
Second, how long should your fast last? Here too, the decision is yours. I suggest a minimum of twenty-four hours—long enough to go through a whole cycle of your life during which the absence of the technologies and practices will matter. But what if you are unable to maintain the fast for the period of time you’ve blocked out? So be it. The difficulty in sticking to your plan becomes part of the exercise, and something you can reflect upon and learn from.
So much for stopping. What about observing? If you’ve been doing the exercises in the book (or have at least read the earlier exercise chapters), you know that I have emphasized the importance of observing your immediate experience: whatever is going on in your mind and body. Noticing how you react to abstaining will shed light on how the absent technologies or practices normally affect you. (You may want to review the mindful check-in, introduced in Chapter 3 and more fully explained in Appendix A, as a technique for noting your immediate experience.) In addition, it will be important to pay attention to the triggers that arise—internal and external events that prompt you to engage with the technologies and practices that are now off-limits.
How to Do the Mindful Unplugging Exercise
Box 8.2 summarizes the steps in the exercise.
Step 1: Perform the primary practice (unplug)
You will need to make two main decisions before you begin: (a) which media, technologies, and practices to abstain from; and (b) over what period of time to do so. Be sure to choose technologies or practices that matter to you—whose absence you will miss. Also be sure to choose a substantial enough period of time, one that is long enough to be noteworthy, and during a time period when you would normally use the technologies you’re abstaining from.
. . .
Box 8.1: The Mindful Unplugging Exercise
What to do
Abstain from using one or more apps or devices for a twenty-four-hour period or longer. Observe the effects of the fast on your mind and body.
Why do it?
• To notice when, how, and why certain apps and devices exert an unhelpful pull upon you.
• To investigate how to achieve a better balance between your online and your offline activities.
. . .
Step 2: Observe what you are doing and feeling
In this exercise you are interrupting your normal patterns of use. So there are likely to be times when you would ordinarily reach for your cell phone, or check email or Facebook. Notice the impulse to do so. What is going on in your mind and body, or in the external world, that has triggered the desire to go online? Or if you suddenly find yourself online, in violation of the fast, notice how that feels, and see whether you can reconstruct how you got there. Notice too whether there are stretches when you might have been tempted to access the application or device but didn’t (and perhaps felt no impulse do so). How does that feel?
. . .
Box 8.2: The Steps of the Mindful Unplugging Exercise
Step 1: Perform the primary practice (unplug)
For the period you’ve decided upon, abstain from the media and technologies you’ve selected.
Step 2: Observe what you are doing and feeling
Pay attention to the impulses and feelings that arise in response to being unplugged.
Step 3: Log what you are observing
Keep a running record of what you observe during the period of the fast.
Step 4: Consolidate (summarize) your observations
Review your log, looking for larger patterns. What is the effect on you of being unplugged? What does this tell you about your relationship to the media and technologies you’re abstaining from?
Step 5: Formulate personal guidelines
What do these patterns suggest about how to use the technologies in question in healthier and more effective ways? In the future, when would it be good to unplug?
Step 6: Share and discuss
Talk with others about what you’ve been discovering.
. . .
Step 3: Log what you are observing
As in the previous exercises, you will want to maintain some kind of written record. In the earlier cases, however, you were typically performing the exercise for a relatively short period of time—for twenty minutes, a half-hour, or an hour. But in this exercise, the period of exploration will probably extend for one or more days. It probably doesn’t make sense to take notes constantly, so you’ll have to figure out a practice of note taking that is useful—that provides you with enough relevant detail—but doesn’t overwhelm you.
Here is the transcript of an instant-messaging conversation Emily logged during the three days she abstained from Facebook:
10:22 AM
Me: i miss facebook
Friend: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
you are in love with facebook
Me: i just broke up with facebook
my heart is broken
10:34 AM
Me: oh shit.
i just went blindly to facebook
slammed it shut before i read anything
i only lasted one hour.
Friend: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
On the completion of her fast, Emily noted: “Sunday morning rolled around, and I was allowed to go back to Facebook. I did so, greedily, and was disappointed. It wasn’t fulfilling. I wasn’t really missing anything when I was gone.”
Step 4: Consolidate (summarize) your observations
Once you’ve logged your experience of the fast, you should step back to see what this is telling you about your relationship with the practices and technologies you’ve abstained from. Do you feel that you currently have the balance right, or do you need to adjust the amount and timing of your use of the technologies in question? Box 8.3 offers some questions that may help guide your reflection.
Step 5: Formulate personal guidelines
Now encode your discoveries as personal guidelines.
Step 6: Share and discuss
As you’ll see in the next section, there is a great deal of variation in what people discover in the process of unplugging. You may be surprised by how differently your friends, colleagues, or family members approach this exercise when you share your discoveries with them.
. . .
Box 8.3: Noticing Patterns in Your Unplugging
1. What did you do?
What did you choose to abstain from and why? (What is your normal practice with these technologies?) For what period of time did you decide to abstain?
2. Overall, what was your experience of the exercise?
How successful were you in maintaining the fast? What helped or hurt you in maintaining it?
3. How successful were you in noticing the impulse to go online?
Were you generally able to notice triggers before you reacted to them? Why or why not?
4. How did the fast affect your mind and body?
What did you notice about your breath, your body, your emotions, and your attention during the period of the fast? Did your reactions vary depending on time of day, internal or external factors?
5. Did your response to the fast change over time?
Did it get easier the longer you maintained it, or perhaps harder?
6. Summarize what you learned from the exercise
What does this exercise tell you about your relationship with these technologies/practices—about how and when to use them effectively, and about when to unplug?
. . .
Reactions to the Exercise
This exercise gives people a great deal of latitude in what they abstain from and for how long, and the choices people make are quite diverse. The main pattern I have observed is that people often choose to disengage from social media—from Facebook, in particular. I take this as an indication of our mixed feelings about social media, and the questions we are now wrestling with about face-to-face versus online relationships.
Most people are quite successful at maintaining the fast and feel good about it. “Overall, I would say my experience was positive. By this I mean that I was successful in not checking email or Facebook for a little more than two days,” says Kathleen. “All in all, it was one of the best days I had had in a long time. I only wish that I could have shut down the computer altogether,” says Heather. “I welcomed the silence and the relief of pressure,” says Melissa, a school administrator. And Eric is surprised to discover how easy it was: “When I started my fast, I was a little anxious about not having access to my phone. . . . I thought I was going to be fidgety and bored all day, but this wasn’t the case at all.”
Inevitably, of course, other people report more mixed reactions. Some report lapses. Having chosen to abstain from Facebook, Danielle says, “I started reading the Facebook comments without thinking and read through one before I remembered.” (Here she echoes what Emily said in the log entry I quoted above.) And some report finding the exercise quite hard. Says Martin: “I found the experience . . . strange. The pull to go to my computer was huge anytime I felt a little bored or just unsure of what to do next with my day. The same goes for the phone. I did have the device in my pocket, but I was shocked how often I found myself pulling it out with the intention to check the Internet or email.” For some, at least, abstaining becomes easier over time. “After the first day,” Samantha says, “it was a lot easier for me to stay focused on my present activities and mindful breathing was really helpful for diverting my attention when I felt the impulse to stray.”
Discovering the Benefits of Unplugging
Here, as in the focused multitasking exercise, the three main benefits people describe have to do with increased productivity and focus, better use of their time, and greater relaxation (reduction in stress). This makes sense, since both of these exercises give people a chance to notice and reduce their reliance on inessential and distracting uses of the technologies.
Regarding productivity, an undergraduate named Nina pursuing a degree in media studies observed, “I was able to focus a little better on my tasks. Instead of taking breaks to check my phone every couple of minutes, I was able to stick to a task without becoming as distracted.” (Nina had given up the use of her phone for twenty-four hours.) And Heather exclaimed, “It was a miracle!! By making a deal with myself that I would not get sucked into timewasting activities, I actually got that [work] done, and pretty well, I think, in about four hours. I was flabbergasted.” (She had unplugged for twenty-four hours from Facebook, a blog on NPR, the Huffington Post app on her phone, and texting.)
Then too, various people commented that unplugging gave them more time to spend on other important activities, such as (offline) reading, walking the dog, and “talking to my grandma on the phone.” Most dramatic (and touching), some people reported reorienting to nature. Thus Nina says: “After I got to work, I was waiting for the crosswalk to turn white, and reached into my pocket to find my phone again. I realized that my phone usually fills those small spaces in the day during which I am waiting to do something else. Because I couldn’t play with my phone while waiting for the crosswalk, I looked up at the sky, which I realized I rarely do. This felt good. Normally I am so engaged with my phone that I don’t even process my surroundings. Sometimes this even causes me to feel nauseous. It was refreshing to take in the city and smell the fresh air.”
And Krista reported seeing, while walking to the gym, “several plants sprouting the first new colors.” She was tempted to take a photo with her phone, but resisted. “Would I have noticed the color as fully as I did if I had sent that picture? Possibly, but the very act of resistance helped me recognize that the first sign of spring—in and of itself—is valuable to me as an individual, and not just because it serves as a point of conversation between me and someone else.”
Finally, some described feeling more relaxed. “After a while,” Nina says, “I forgot that I didn’t have my phone with me. I found that I was more relaxed, had steadier breathing and was more able to focus.” Henry noticed that “a feeling of relief would come over me” when he realized he couldn’t check social media. And Eric found that he had such a relaxing day unplugged that he felt anxious about ending his fast.
Noticing the Pull of Absent Media
Because they have abstained from certain tools and devices, people are able to experience the lure of these now forbidden things. As Martin puts it, “Nothing can let you know how strong the pull [of technology] is until it isn’t there anymore.” And feeling this pull sometimes leads them to further investigate: Why is Facebook, or email, or surfing the Web so important to me at this very moment, even after I’ve decided to abstain from it?
Martin decides that it is a form of escape: “I was struck by the frequency of feeling a pull towards getting onto my computer or accessing the Internet. It really made me question how much time I waste on that stuff—time that could be better spent. It also made me reflect on the escapism that it presents. Escape from my current state of mind, from doing a difficult task, from anything.” Dana, a young master’s student, also uses the word “escape,” reporting that she watches a great deal of TV as “a form of escape for me to avoid feeling overwhelmed by the information I am learning, as well as to avoid feeling lonely.”
Kathleen concludes that the urge to check email or Facebook often comes when “I am bored, curious or looking for some kind of interaction with community.” Emily reports that “I went to Facebook when I didn’t know what to do next, or whenever I was transitioning to a new task.” Diane notices that without access to Facebook she feels the anxiety of missing out: “I felt jittery, worried that someone would communicate something important and I would miss it, or they would think I was avoiding them.” Erin echoes this when she notes she was anxious “throughout the email-free day, when I was worried that there might be something I was missing, or when I felt guilty for not communicating my whereabouts.”
Lydia concludes that she constantly checks social media when she is forced to wait for something: “Why the incessant need to check? Because I did not want to be in that moment of waiting for the bus to arrive, waiting for the bus to deliver me, waiting for Guffman, waiting for the coffee to be made, waiting for class to start. Waiting. I did not want to be waiting for anything. I wanted to be active with my school work. Complete work tasks. Remove myself from the head spin of stressing over my to-do list, not waiting. It’s clear to me that I have been using this outlet as a way to disassociate from the moment because I am overwhelmed.”
And last, Henry notices not only what draws him to social media but what he calls its “addicting circle”—how use seems to encourage more use: “I’m becoming more aware of social media . . . as a kind of ‘circular’ system. . . . That is to say, . . . the more I interact with Facebook (posting, messaging, liking or commenting on posts, etc.), the more the site will, in a way, ‘demand of’ and notify me—I’ll get more notifications, more additional comments to read, more likes, more messages, and on and on. This, of course, is a (potentially addicting) circle—these things feel good, but also consume lots of time. I’ve found that the less I use Facebook, the less rewarding it is when I do use it (anytime I log on, I have fewer comments to read, fewer notifications, etc.)—and while this can be mildly disappointing when I do check the site, it also greatly lowers the temptation to log on.”
Discovering Strategies That Help Maintain the Fast
What helps people resist the lure of the technologies they are abstaining from? In Box 8.4, I list three strategies that people regularly mention.
. . .
Box 8.4: Strategies for Resisting the Pull
1. Hiding devices, closing apps, etc.
2. Noticing triggers and pausing
3. Engaging in other activities
. . .
1. Hiding devices, closing apps, etc.
“Out of sight, out of mind.” While putting devices away, turning off ringers, and closing apps isn’t a foolproof strategy for eliminating the lure of our digital tools, it can certainly help. Thus Nina decides to keep her phone in her backpack rather than in her hand or pocket. Sophie switches it to silent mode. Martin talks about “leaving devices at home . . . or removing them from my periphery.”
2. Noticing triggers and pausing
One of the most useful skills involves noticing triggering events that may lure us back to the tools and apps we’re abstaining from. If we can notice the trigger before reacting, we have the potential to pause long enough to address it. Some people find that bringing their attention back to their breathing can help with this. Nichola noticed that when she goes for a walk, “I get a bit antsy in public places if I don’t have my phone to distract me, so I tried to just pay attention to my breathing and it helped.” Others find it is helpful to recall their current intention and priorities. Kathleen says, “Awareness of the intention I set to not engage in these technologies . . . helped, especially in moments when I would normally engage.”
3. Engaging in other activities
A third strategy some report is occupying themselves with fulfilling offline activities—the kinds of activities that excessive time online had previously prevented them from enjoying. What helped Kathleen maintain her fast was “doing things: a hike, a run, an evening out. . . . I just generally stayed busy.”
Searching for Balance
The point of this exercise is to discover a constructive balance between your online and your offline activities. To be sure, a dimension of the investigation is discovering what’s not constructive, as we’ve seen in the observations people make above. But I have no hidden agenda here—I’m not trying to get people off Facebook, to stop them from multitasking. The participants in my classes and workshops clearly understand this, and they write and speak regularly about their own search for balance, reaching beyond simplistic ideas of good or bad, right or wrong.
Heather, for example, now sees how complex is her relationship with the technologies: “I have found that my relationships with these technologies are more complex than I had assumed, but I am not judging them to be negative, just ‘more complex.’ Through this exercise I became more aware of my choices and habits and I remembered that I have control over both of these things!”
Emily arrives at a new understanding of the place of Facebook in her life, one in which it still matters but will play a less dominant role:
I would like to be more creative and less passive. These digital information technologies are a passive outlet for distraction, and inhabit a separate online life, and I need to find a balance to feel like a whole person. I blindly and immediately head to Facebook because it’s a quick and easy window into other people’s lives. It’s juicy, but also mundane. It has its place, and I’ll keep it in my life, for now, but I do want to remember that feeling of going back to Facebook after three days. It was a letdown. I’d like to live my own life more fully. . . . I’ll continue to use it . . . but will try to keep that in mind and use it as a place to share and connect, rather than brag about my own life or judge others’.
And Erin reports on her discovery that Facebook and email play very different roles in her life, and need to be treated differently:
When I finally returned to Facebook, I was disappointed. Sure, there were plenty of new posts to read, but nothing worth the twinges of curiosity that abstaining from it had caused. Email, however, was a different story. Perhaps because I do more daily tasks and communication over email than Facebook, I had a lot more to catch up on when I returned to it. Yes, of course there were plenty of messages that I could just ignore, like always, but there was a more concentrated session of email to deal with the results of my fast. As opposed to Facebook, when I got back to email I was relieved—both that I hadn’t missed anything truly disastrous or significant (though there was stuff to catch up on for work, especially) but also I was relieved to be back in contact. I’ve had a similar feeling when returning from a long camping trip outside of cell phone range.
With these newfound insights, people write a wide range of personal guidelines. Some people do say that they want to build a regular, Sabbath-time fast into their lives. Says Danielle, “I like the realization of control I have over the tech in my life and how personalized I can make every Sabbath, if I want. I realize that I like the fast, I find it contributes to my well-being, and I would like to explore how I can incorporate this into my life on a more regular basis.” Morgan decides that she’d like to adopt a partial Sabbath on weekends, where “I try not to be on social networking sites and email much at all over weekends where I have the ability to disengage.” “I hope that by modeling things like this,” she adds, “it’ll also rub off on my husband. =).”
Others realize that smaller breaks will serve them better. Susan, who has worked as an executive assistant, says that she “would like to take more breaks from technology or breaks from being so available” on social media. Megan, a master’s student in her mid-twenties, decides that she will “make an effort to incorporate nondigital activities into my brain breaks; leaving the computer for a few minutes might be a more effective way of maintaining my productivity when I return to my task than simply spending time using my computer in a different way.” And Amy, a primary school teacher, writes this guideline: “Take consciousness breaks. Breathing, listening, feeling my body on the chair. Pay attention to my body and listen to my inner voice.”
Some people decide that they will continue to work on noticing and responding to their triggers. Says Samantha: “Going forward, I would like to be more mindful in my use of social media. Before jumping into these activities, I want to be able to pause and ask myself if I’m doing it because I want to or because I feel like I need to. I think making this distinction will help me engage in positive, enjoyable ways that don’t interfere with other areas of my life.” On a similar note Kathleen says: “When I notice the internal tug to engage with email or Facebook and there is not a real need, I will be mindful of it and ask myself ‘Why?’ I might still engage with these technologies, even if a ‘need’ does not exist, but it will be with a more mindful interaction.”
Being more mindful and asking “Why?” This nicely summarizes the point of the unplugging exercise. Abstaining disrupts the habits we’ve developed around our digital tools. It helps create a space between the trigger and the automatic reaction, a pause, and in that moment of greater awareness we can ask, “Why am I doing this?” From this question helpful insights can arise.
Final Reflections
Clearly, unplugging works. When people take it seriously, when they make a real commitment to abstaining from certain online activities, they discover how to achieve greater balance in their lives. But what does balance really mean here? As we’ve seen, it generally means fine-tuning how and when we’re online, and for nearly everyone I’ve encountered, this means reducing the amount of time they are engaging with their digital tools. These tools exert a powerful pull, and when we look more closely at how we’re spending our time, we realize that some of our time online is counterproductive, wasteful, and unfulfilling. The trick is sorting the wheat from the chaff, so that we can see which behaviors are helpful and fulfilling and which aren’t, and can then make conscious decisions about how to proceed.
Unplugging may seem like an individual decision—each one of us figuring out how to achieve the balance that is uniquely right for us. Indeed, to a large extent it is. But we will miss an important part of the challenge if we think that achieving balance is only a matter of personal or individual choice. For there are powerful cultural forces at work that aim to keep us plugged in. We live in a “more-faster-better” culture where “more is not enough” (to quote the subtitle of a 2005 book called American Mania). Clearly, there is a powerful cultural imperative to do more, to produce more, and to do so ever more efficiently. And to the extent that we have internalized this imperative (which I believe many of us have, including me), it can be hard to take a break, to step away from the machine—especially when we feel the subtle pressure of our ever-present to-do lists.3
What’s more, our digital devices aren’t only our work machines, but also the places where we shop, entertain ourselves, and communicate with loved ones. Taking a break from work can therefore mean switching to other apps or Web sites on the same device, rather than going for a walk or reading a book. While watching a YouTube video or communicating with friends on Facebook isn’t productive for our work, it can still be highly productive in economic terms. Companies like Google and Facebook have earned huge profits through advertising, and the longer we stay online, clicking around, the more likely we are to buy, and the more personal data these companies can collect about us. (A recent book, Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products, presents and celebrates this strategy.)4
In other words, the pressure to stay online arises not only from our individual propensities but from the cultural conditioning to produce and consume ever more. It is not unlike the challenge we face to eat healthfully. Today’s obesity epidemic is in part the result of choices the food industry has made—to market drinks with high sugar content and food with high fat content, for example. As individuals, we can choose to eat healthful amounts and kinds of food, and we should. But we also can and should work at the societal level to shift the patterns of food production and consumption. What would it look like if the technology industry aimed to promote balance, rather than seemingly endless consumption? And what forms of social and political action might help bring this about?