At it's very core, the modern science project, of which technology is an offspring, is an attempt to master and subjugate nature. Drilling down a little deeper, our obsession with mastering and subjugating nature derives from the fear of death and our frenzied efforts to conquer and master it. Neither alchemy nor religion have saved us, after all, as Annie Laurie Gaylor reminds us, "our cemeteries are full of people who prayed to live," so we now seek our salvation in the magic of science & technology. But what we think is going to save us and make us immortal is only robbing us of our humanity. And in the end, it will be our undoing. For to be human is to struggle and suffer the ravages of mortality. To be human is make mistakes and to sometimes forget. To be human is to die. It's a packaged deal.
There is more to this story of being human and being alive, with all its challenges and limitations juxtaposed with all its wondrous possibilities, its awesome beauty, and the seemingly magical joy to be found (or cultivated) in every moment...but, along with various and sundry other tasks to tend to on this wintry day...alas...there is laundry to be done.
This post is another reminder of how glad I am to have connected with you here. Thanks for the recommendation of Elif Shafak's post -- and her books, which need to move up my list. As for "me-time," working on final edits of my novel by the light of a beeswax candle is very rewarding. Happy Solstice!
I nearly quit Substack today myself. Freedom of speech in the US is for the independently wealthy, and I have nothing to say lately that can't be used against me.
I'm probably not going to switch to a Light Phone (as much as I genuinely would like to) but I am going to build a morning fire and drink another mug of coffee.
Hey, I’m delighted this wasn’t an I’m leaving Substack list…rather, a I’m figuring out how to deal with the issue post. I think that, if we want to stay here to write, that’s the way to go. We are, surely, more able to manage it than it manage us…to do just the things you propose at the end of your piece (I notebooked a bit, I looked at the sky, and I stroked the cat and marvelled at the bond between us: she has absolutely no awareness of the world of algorithm).
And yes, it does require work to keep those long form muscles in shape. You’ve got to keep pushing and lifting that iron to be pumped and stacked, and it’s the same with our intellect. But it’s so worth doing (both physically and intellectually). We can work to keep and develop, not wreck, our creativity - but, unlike our own ancestors, really have to put some heft into doing so.
And, (final and) fun fact you may not have been aware of as you drove around it without navigation on your phone, Portland, Oregon is home of Langlitz Leathers!
Wonderful. Thank you for being here in spite of the toll.
Your guidance about not sharing, at least not yet, made me cry.
I did do some breath work and also gave the kitty a snuffle even though she was napping, partly because you're 100% right to point us towards grounding, partly because I wanted to earn the right to share your great words.
Lovely. I feel every word. And this is spot on: "Being on Substack also reminds me of Instagram, which I left in 2020 after getting fed up with curating a “self” online in the midst of a months-long family crisis. The effort it takes to curate a “self” here, on Substack, often feels similar."
The vigilance required to use these platforms as tools rather than becoming their tools is nonstop.
I am trying, and failing, to move through the discomfort of trying to unprogram my brain for quick hits of high reactivity. Sitting and staring at the tree tops is lovely for perhaps twenty seconds. And then... and when the loved ones you live with are all "decompressing" on their screens, the pull to join them leads to the darker paths of scrolling beside them. How fitting, with everything supposedly "easier," that my mind is railing "this isn't easy!"
Antonia -- I have taken a full year off from Substack and only recently, with progress in other lanes in my life, the itch to return and a sound reason about what to do with the commitment seems to be emerging. Your writing is remarkable. It captures a feeling likely universal in this world if only we take the time to ponder what is happening to us.
Your shift to a "not so smart phone" is a paean to the deep feeling in our soul that we are losing our identity in some way. I think it is worthwhile to minimally (a) realize it is happening (b) ponder whether we are okay with it (c) map out a strategy of how we can remain self-aware and have an exit strategy before we lose ourselves altogether.
One of the topics I have been thinking about lately maps nicely into your essay. It is about "human progress". It starts with the premise of joules and watts. Humanity, after so many millennia of existence only very recently blitzed through the Industrial Revolution. I surmise the consequences might be reduced to a simple observation. We stepped back and surveyed this beautiful planet and decided that our place and purpose was, in the end, to become force multipliers and usurp all of nature for our selfish needs. What am I talking about? We were a single species and our focus became, how much energy and power could be enough for each person to be director of. We weren't even capable of a horsepower but we understood early a first goal. Tools >> Wheels >> Plows >> Pulleys >> Engines >> Powerplants. Never is any amount enough and this selfish obsession in us doesn't seem to consider the consequences.
When I return to your essays I often mull the idea that this race of conquest and by us humans is readily measured in how much energy each of us "need". It is CREEPY that in the context of 4.6B years for this rock and 100K years for this upright walking ape, we have managed to hurtle forward with this "dominion" nonsense and completely upend the planet altogether in only perhaps 300 years. The "dominion BS comes from the same types of folks writing papal bulls. Only in the last 50 years, PERHAPS, a subset of us, trapped in this economic system of our own design have begun to ponder our consequence.
It is harrowing to see our conclusion of what to do next right before our eyes. The "problem" at hand only 300 years ago was dominion via the capture, creation and direction of energy on an unprecedented scale. The consequences presented us with a chance to work together and rethink our place in this world. Instead, after our 300 year experiment our conclusion was that we've already done the energy thing and are no longer "prisoners" of what we might lift. Instead of maybe considering how much is enough, we have pivoted inward again and decided our intellect that we can direct out of our brains is insufficient. Instead, we hurtle headlong toward artificial intelligence. I have little confidence we will be able to harness and control this monster any better than we did with the joule and the watt. The only thing that seems likely is we are a one-trick pony. We now seem focused on using all of this newfound, perhaps "sustainable" energy we have begun to generate and are going to use the short-term surplus to make AI a reality.
What I know for sure is that among the people I know, including those I had the honor to meet on Substack (that's you), it is a precious few that were self-aware enough to realize they don't need the extension of themselves we call smartphones be able to run ChatGPT or Gemini in order to live a "real" life. Your essay today reminds me that the only way we come to such a conclusion is we figure out a way to listen to our inner selves. You seem to have figured that out.
Everything I've read of yours resonates. It's so gratifying. I'll assume you also own Lorraine Daston's 2022 book Rules and Heller/Salzman's 2021 book Mine!. So much to read! So much to write! <3
Thank you for such a lovely and thoughtful piece (as usual!). I came to Substack about six months ago after a progressive decline in social media use, because, while I had needed it (might still) for my work, it's just so draining to feel (and mostly ignore) the imperative to Feed the Machine. So I optimistically came here to start sharing my writing.
I was most pleased that there didn't seem to be any "algorithm" to feed, no hungry beast demanding you constantly give it content and attention. Unfortunately, soon after I joined, Substack started with "Notes" which is purely algorithmic. Feed the Machine! And if you don't, of course nobody finds your work.
When I started here on Substack, I thought it would provide the good kind of pressure to write more often and, especially, to share my writing. At first that felt easy, but then the algorithm vibe came on strong, and I found myself almost protective, even a little defensive. I post when I am moved, follow no schedule, engage with other material on this platform in a purely "organic" way (not thinking about gaining readers, or how the algorithm will see my post, or whether it's "on-brand" or whatever).
It's an ongoing struggle: I feel a pull to share my writing, and for it to be read by at least a few people, and I want it to feel human enough and not like a content cycle for Feeding the Machine.
While I have not been here for a while, I still only considered it a respite. After only two sentences and the appearance of the fragment "papal bull" I knew with immediacy I had found a oasis of great and thoughtful writing. Ah...now I can return to reading the rest. I have been considering returning to Substack and begin writing again. Thanks Antonia for being nourishment for the mind. I hope to come back and amend this comment :)
EDIT:: I just finished reading and knew perhaps 1/3 of the way through your thoughtful essay would require a separate thread altogether. There are few gifts, in my estimation, that are better than when a friend cajoles you to think.
I’m about to go for a walk under the stars with a mug of medicinal tea, and I will carry with me your image of the controlled burn, the fire that nourishes.
But before I leave this space, I want to mention something I’ve found very helpful regarding substack. 5 days ago I switched a setting in my substack account to receive posts in my email inbox instead of in the app, then deleted the app. That switch was so easy and has been so helpful for me. I am able to read and like posts and read comments without signing in. When I go to post this comment, I will be asked to sign in. After posting I will sign back out without ever leaving your comments page.
I have a high maintenance nervous system, and my quality of life suffers so much when my internal resources are being drained by social media. I remember being a teen and thinking, it takes so much creativity, so much spiritual depth just to get through my day, and I’m just trying to be a basic human! That’s still true, and when my creativity and spiritual depth are drained by addictive patterns every part of my life suffers immensely. So I had to eliminate substack notes, and making that switch was easier than I thought it would be.
I loved this piece and am glad to have "met" you on Substack and at the very least have had the pleasure of reading your writing. When things get very, very difficult for me in general -- and that's mainly to do with caregiving -- I just think "it's impossible." It helps to acknowledge the impossibility, the exhaustion.
I really hope you don't leave Substack, even if it has begun to evoke those same dilemmas. One problem is that it's not just about the technology per se - we can't design our way out of this or keep migrating to a "better" platform. I doubt it gets much better than Substack, if we're going to rely on any collective online space for writing and exchange of ideas (whatever its flaws). However much technology like this facilitates our loss of attention and scale, it has also become part of our agency, something we have learned to do to ourselves. Maybe that's the worst part: that it's not our fault, we feel ourselves vaguely hijacked and trapped, yet we are complicit.
The toll of scrolling social media is perhaps different from the toll on a writer feeling the weight of audience capture, though they are not unrelated. I wonder if what you call "the internalized pressure to curate a 'self' and social expectations" are not only from the platform, but from what we imagine the platform to be and what we convince ourselves we owe it. We can give up the garbage stuff we don't really need, but it's a shame to be forced to give up online community, in a world where offline community is so fragile for many. You are so conscientious with this Substack, and your readers - is there anything you can do to lighten that burden? Like maybe, not reply thoughtfully to this post? :)
When I have to communicate with people who don't know me, and they find out I need directions to where we'll meet, or that I don't have the app they insist we use, on my phone, or lately it's been on my 'watch', I'm treated with suspicion. As if I can't possibly be real, and I'm scamming them or worse. It feels terrible. Their suspicions often end the transaction, the conversation, the event or meeting we were planning. Choosing not to use expensive technology that I don't want cluttering my life, has made me feel more and more like I don't belong to ordinary life. I am barred from participating. I'm treated like a criminal.
We live on the horns of a dilemma.
At it's very core, the modern science project, of which technology is an offspring, is an attempt to master and subjugate nature. Drilling down a little deeper, our obsession with mastering and subjugating nature derives from the fear of death and our frenzied efforts to conquer and master it. Neither alchemy nor religion have saved us, after all, as Annie Laurie Gaylor reminds us, "our cemeteries are full of people who prayed to live," so we now seek our salvation in the magic of science & technology. But what we think is going to save us and make us immortal is only robbing us of our humanity. And in the end, it will be our undoing. For to be human is to struggle and suffer the ravages of mortality. To be human is make mistakes and to sometimes forget. To be human is to die. It's a packaged deal.
There is more to this story of being human and being alive, with all its challenges and limitations juxtaposed with all its wondrous possibilities, its awesome beauty, and the seemingly magical joy to be found (or cultivated) in every moment...but, along with various and sundry other tasks to tend to on this wintry day...alas...there is laundry to be done.
Isn't there an app for that?
This post is another reminder of how glad I am to have connected with you here. Thanks for the recommendation of Elif Shafak's post -- and her books, which need to move up my list. As for "me-time," working on final edits of my novel by the light of a beeswax candle is very rewarding. Happy Solstice!
I nearly quit Substack today myself. Freedom of speech in the US is for the independently wealthy, and I have nothing to say lately that can't be used against me.
I'm probably not going to switch to a Light Phone (as much as I genuinely would like to) but I am going to build a morning fire and drink another mug of coffee.
Hey, I’m delighted this wasn’t an I’m leaving Substack list…rather, a I’m figuring out how to deal with the issue post. I think that, if we want to stay here to write, that’s the way to go. We are, surely, more able to manage it than it manage us…to do just the things you propose at the end of your piece (I notebooked a bit, I looked at the sky, and I stroked the cat and marvelled at the bond between us: she has absolutely no awareness of the world of algorithm).
And yes, it does require work to keep those long form muscles in shape. You’ve got to keep pushing and lifting that iron to be pumped and stacked, and it’s the same with our intellect. But it’s so worth doing (both physically and intellectually). We can work to keep and develop, not wreck, our creativity - but, unlike our own ancestors, really have to put some heft into doing so.
And, (final and) fun fact you may not have been aware of as you drove around it without navigation on your phone, Portland, Oregon is home of Langlitz Leathers!
Wonderful. Thank you for being here in spite of the toll.
Your guidance about not sharing, at least not yet, made me cry.
I did do some breath work and also gave the kitty a snuffle even though she was napping, partly because you're 100% right to point us towards grounding, partly because I wanted to earn the right to share your great words.
Lovely. I feel every word. And this is spot on: "Being on Substack also reminds me of Instagram, which I left in 2020 after getting fed up with curating a “self” online in the midst of a months-long family crisis. The effort it takes to curate a “self” here, on Substack, often feels similar."
The vigilance required to use these platforms as tools rather than becoming their tools is nonstop.
I am trying, and failing, to move through the discomfort of trying to unprogram my brain for quick hits of high reactivity. Sitting and staring at the tree tops is lovely for perhaps twenty seconds. And then... and when the loved ones you live with are all "decompressing" on their screens, the pull to join them leads to the darker paths of scrolling beside them. How fitting, with everything supposedly "easier," that my mind is railing "this isn't easy!"
Antonia -- I have taken a full year off from Substack and only recently, with progress in other lanes in my life, the itch to return and a sound reason about what to do with the commitment seems to be emerging. Your writing is remarkable. It captures a feeling likely universal in this world if only we take the time to ponder what is happening to us.
Your shift to a "not so smart phone" is a paean to the deep feeling in our soul that we are losing our identity in some way. I think it is worthwhile to minimally (a) realize it is happening (b) ponder whether we are okay with it (c) map out a strategy of how we can remain self-aware and have an exit strategy before we lose ourselves altogether.
One of the topics I have been thinking about lately maps nicely into your essay. It is about "human progress". It starts with the premise of joules and watts. Humanity, after so many millennia of existence only very recently blitzed through the Industrial Revolution. I surmise the consequences might be reduced to a simple observation. We stepped back and surveyed this beautiful planet and decided that our place and purpose was, in the end, to become force multipliers and usurp all of nature for our selfish needs. What am I talking about? We were a single species and our focus became, how much energy and power could be enough for each person to be director of. We weren't even capable of a horsepower but we understood early a first goal. Tools >> Wheels >> Plows >> Pulleys >> Engines >> Powerplants. Never is any amount enough and this selfish obsession in us doesn't seem to consider the consequences.
When I return to your essays I often mull the idea that this race of conquest and by us humans is readily measured in how much energy each of us "need". It is CREEPY that in the context of 4.6B years for this rock and 100K years for this upright walking ape, we have managed to hurtle forward with this "dominion" nonsense and completely upend the planet altogether in only perhaps 300 years. The "dominion BS comes from the same types of folks writing papal bulls. Only in the last 50 years, PERHAPS, a subset of us, trapped in this economic system of our own design have begun to ponder our consequence.
It is harrowing to see our conclusion of what to do next right before our eyes. The "problem" at hand only 300 years ago was dominion via the capture, creation and direction of energy on an unprecedented scale. The consequences presented us with a chance to work together and rethink our place in this world. Instead, after our 300 year experiment our conclusion was that we've already done the energy thing and are no longer "prisoners" of what we might lift. Instead of maybe considering how much is enough, we have pivoted inward again and decided our intellect that we can direct out of our brains is insufficient. Instead, we hurtle headlong toward artificial intelligence. I have little confidence we will be able to harness and control this monster any better than we did with the joule and the watt. The only thing that seems likely is we are a one-trick pony. We now seem focused on using all of this newfound, perhaps "sustainable" energy we have begun to generate and are going to use the short-term surplus to make AI a reality.
What I know for sure is that among the people I know, including those I had the honor to meet on Substack (that's you), it is a precious few that were self-aware enough to realize they don't need the extension of themselves we call smartphones be able to run ChatGPT or Gemini in order to live a "real" life. Your essay today reminds me that the only way we come to such a conclusion is we figure out a way to listen to our inner selves. You seem to have figured that out.
Everything I've read of yours resonates. It's so gratifying. I'll assume you also own Lorraine Daston's 2022 book Rules and Heller/Salzman's 2021 book Mine!. So much to read! So much to write! <3
Thank you for such a lovely and thoughtful piece (as usual!). I came to Substack about six months ago after a progressive decline in social media use, because, while I had needed it (might still) for my work, it's just so draining to feel (and mostly ignore) the imperative to Feed the Machine. So I optimistically came here to start sharing my writing.
I was most pleased that there didn't seem to be any "algorithm" to feed, no hungry beast demanding you constantly give it content and attention. Unfortunately, soon after I joined, Substack started with "Notes" which is purely algorithmic. Feed the Machine! And if you don't, of course nobody finds your work.
When I started here on Substack, I thought it would provide the good kind of pressure to write more often and, especially, to share my writing. At first that felt easy, but then the algorithm vibe came on strong, and I found myself almost protective, even a little defensive. I post when I am moved, follow no schedule, engage with other material on this platform in a purely "organic" way (not thinking about gaining readers, or how the algorithm will see my post, or whether it's "on-brand" or whatever).
It's an ongoing struggle: I feel a pull to share my writing, and for it to be read by at least a few people, and I want it to feel human enough and not like a content cycle for Feeding the Machine.
I appreciate your work, Antonia.
While I have not been here for a while, I still only considered it a respite. After only two sentences and the appearance of the fragment "papal bull" I knew with immediacy I had found a oasis of great and thoughtful writing. Ah...now I can return to reading the rest. I have been considering returning to Substack and begin writing again. Thanks Antonia for being nourishment for the mind. I hope to come back and amend this comment :)
EDIT:: I just finished reading and knew perhaps 1/3 of the way through your thoughtful essay would require a separate thread altogether. There are few gifts, in my estimation, that are better than when a friend cajoles you to think.
I’m about to go for a walk under the stars with a mug of medicinal tea, and I will carry with me your image of the controlled burn, the fire that nourishes.
But before I leave this space, I want to mention something I’ve found very helpful regarding substack. 5 days ago I switched a setting in my substack account to receive posts in my email inbox instead of in the app, then deleted the app. That switch was so easy and has been so helpful for me. I am able to read and like posts and read comments without signing in. When I go to post this comment, I will be asked to sign in. After posting I will sign back out without ever leaving your comments page.
I have a high maintenance nervous system, and my quality of life suffers so much when my internal resources are being drained by social media. I remember being a teen and thinking, it takes so much creativity, so much spiritual depth just to get through my day, and I’m just trying to be a basic human! That’s still true, and when my creativity and spiritual depth are drained by addictive patterns every part of my life suffers immensely. So I had to eliminate substack notes, and making that switch was easier than I thought it would be.
I loved this piece and am glad to have "met" you on Substack and at the very least have had the pleasure of reading your writing. When things get very, very difficult for me in general -- and that's mainly to do with caregiving -- I just think "it's impossible." It helps to acknowledge the impossibility, the exhaustion.
I really hope you don't leave Substack, even if it has begun to evoke those same dilemmas. One problem is that it's not just about the technology per se - we can't design our way out of this or keep migrating to a "better" platform. I doubt it gets much better than Substack, if we're going to rely on any collective online space for writing and exchange of ideas (whatever its flaws). However much technology like this facilitates our loss of attention and scale, it has also become part of our agency, something we have learned to do to ourselves. Maybe that's the worst part: that it's not our fault, we feel ourselves vaguely hijacked and trapped, yet we are complicit.
The toll of scrolling social media is perhaps different from the toll on a writer feeling the weight of audience capture, though they are not unrelated. I wonder if what you call "the internalized pressure to curate a 'self' and social expectations" are not only from the platform, but from what we imagine the platform to be and what we convince ourselves we owe it. We can give up the garbage stuff we don't really need, but it's a shame to be forced to give up online community, in a world where offline community is so fragile for many. You are so conscientious with this Substack, and your readers - is there anything you can do to lighten that burden? Like maybe, not reply thoughtfully to this post? :)
When I have to communicate with people who don't know me, and they find out I need directions to where we'll meet, or that I don't have the app they insist we use, on my phone, or lately it's been on my 'watch', I'm treated with suspicion. As if I can't possibly be real, and I'm scamming them or worse. It feels terrible. Their suspicions often end the transaction, the conversation, the event or meeting we were planning. Choosing not to use expensive technology that I don't want cluttering my life, has made me feel more and more like I don't belong to ordinary life. I am barred from participating. I'm treated like a criminal.