"Technology giveth, and technology hath taken away" - The Bible, or something.
I was a fan of Nicholas Carr's 2008 Atlantic article, "Is Google making us stupid?." It articulated all the worries many of us have been feeling as our identities and thought processes have slowly, but inexorably, become enmeshed and continuous with the internet and the devices used to access it. The Shallows expands upon the article and creates a compelling, yet measured, case we are not just gallivanting about the internet due to the accessibility of information and streamlining of communication, but that its sticky silk has trapped us in the web and is changing the very way we think.
The core of Carr's argument centers around the internet's effect on our attention span. The longer we can focus on one subject, the greater the chances we can copy it into our brains and integrate it into our intellectual frameworks to create what we call an "understanding." Without this sustained concentration, we are simply learning bits and pieces of information, without making the connections required deep learning. He supports this thesis with a variety of scientific studies and anecdotes.
For example, the phenomena of hyperlinking is ostensibly one of the greatest boons of internet reading compared to traditional book reading. We have always intrinsically known the the vast connections between the various content we take in, but hyperlinks allow us to walk along these connections whenever the impulse emerges. This may be a good thing, allowing us to create a more robust intellectual framework with a wider array of connections; in essence, a better understanding. So is this the case? Carr discusses Diana DeStefano's review of the the hyperlink literature, and it clearly shows a negative correlation between the number of hyperlinks and the comprehension of the reader, regardless of whether they actually clicked on it. Why is this so? The idea is that each hyperlink forces us to take a break in our reading and make a decision: to click or not to click. This does two things. One, it distracts from the thoughts and ideas being communicated by the text. And two, it adds more information to our working memory, creating cognitive overload. Both of these effects decrease our ability to transmit information into our long term memory.
This vice of the internet is the same as its virtue: it offers too many choices. This creates what psychologist Barry Shwartz calls "the paradox of choice." We are given so many choices that it creates an anxiety that we are have not chosen the "correct" link, webpage, music, movie, etc. We cannot just sit there and enjoy something for a sustained period of time because the background anxiety builds that we are not using our time wisely and we must continue the search. Carr presents the case that this is a wide ranging phenomena amongst those of us who have drank deeply from the internet and tasted its crisp Pierian spring. It is especially true of myself, which is why I find the book so compelling. This loss of attention span has happened to me once before, so I am a bit more wary and cautious of the internet, having experienced life without much of an attention span.
When I was younger, I was an avid chess player. I read books on openings, closings, strategies, tactics, and the great chess games of all time. I would sit there and play a game of chess for two to three hours, focused deeply on the game. I can still remember many of these games. I actually got pretty good after a while, playing in state tournaments and once beating the number one ranked chess player in Pennsylvania for my age group. Then (dun, dun, dun...) I discovered speed chess. I fell in quickly and deeply. In the speed chess I preferred, the players have only one minute total to move their pieces. I eventually managed to increase my speed to about one move per second. While I greatly enjoyed the excitement and quick thinking, I began to feel its effects on my longer chess games. I could no longer sit there and think moves ahead. Simply, I became very impatient and distracted. This transferred over to my normal life as well. Waiting in line, sitting in traffic, opening movie credits, books, conversations-everything seemed to take too long. I eventually came to the conclusion that this deterioration of my attention span was no good, so I gave up chess and have barely played in the last ten years.
Well, I feel it happening again with the internet, consistent with Carr's experience and the research he cites. In order to once again scuba dive with words instead of jet skiing across the surface, i.e., to write the book, Carr had to move to the mountains of Colorado and disconnect himself from the new technologies. This is basically what I have been doing for the past few years, only in moderation. I still do not have a smartphone, because it will be the end of me. I'll be playing endless games, checking my email, or texting while walking down the street instead of enjoying the swifts and swallows.
Slate referred to The Shallows as "the Silent Spring for the literary mind," and this is an apt description. I recommend this book to anyone, not only for the excellent prose, historical context, and review of the literature, but as a catalyst to moderate the use of the internet and reconnect with the world in a deep, richer, and more meaningful way.
Now, its time to scan political and scientific blogs until I pass out from a migraine.
