On the writing of pieces criticizing digital devices there is no end. Whether that be societal addiction to cell phones, screens, or just the technological transformation of which they are a part, the essays, tweets, and articles are endless. However, it was merely a few years ago when smartphones were held up as totems of modern advancement–symbols of a future where all our immediate needs could be met with a tap or swipe. Changes and connectivity such as ubiquitous wi-fi and 5G capabilities, along with social media have changed much of the way we see our devices. Now they seem to be too much, too prevalent, and too powerful.
A number of thinkers and academics have written extensively about our attachment to screens and social media. In May 2022 Jonathan Haidt published a widely circulated piece in the Atlantic describing the social and politically fragmenting effects of social media. In his own words, “The story I have told is bleak.” Indeed it is difficult to find someone who isn’t looking to decrease their daily screen time. This generation’s devices are the last generation’s cigarettes.
When it comes to Christian publications and websites we find similar responses. Concerns are raised around the consumption and creation of online content. It is rightly understood that we are too attached. The cautions offered often include community considerations. The more time we spend on our cell phones the less time we spend interacting with one another. Conversations with people thousands of miles away anger us like they’re sitting across the living room. Devices so often remove us cerebrally even while we are present corporeally.
To name another, there are concerns around covetousness. Whether it be Amazon or Instagram, our interaction with the app puts on parade what we don’t have. A vacation someone else took that you cannot afford. A standard of beauty or physique that is unrealistic and most often unattainable. A new item drastically marked down on Cyber Monday that looks amazing. We’re made to want.
At root, or beneath these concerns is the fear that in using our devices we are actually worshiping them. But is this actually correct? Is there possibly a different danger to the way we use our technology?
I believe there is and that it is just as pernicious and perhaps even more damaging. It seems that inasmuch as cell phones can become objects of worship, they are just as often objects of our deification. That is, our cell phones and computers make us think we’re gods.
As with other gods, their perceived power is equivalent to the devotion of its worshipers. The greater the worship, the greater the power. And so we catch ourselves reaching unconsciously for our phones, tablets, or computers. We need them not always because we worship them, but because they give us a sense of deification that, once we’ve tasted, we find difficult to live without.
The power and control I have at my fingertips, or in my palms, is truly awesome. In terms of place, I can be omnipresent. In just a few clicks I can be anywhere in the world, or even the universe, thanks to the new Webb telescope. In terms of knowledge, I can be omniscient. A few google searches and I’ve found the answer to most anything I want. In terms of power, well at least socially I can control whatever image I want people to have of me. Even on Zoom, I can make myself invisible by turning off my camera or silence anyone I don’t want to hear. We haven’t even mentioned the added power of augmented and virtual reality.
In addition to control, technology and cell phones train me to expect my demands will be immediately met. Long gone are the 5-7 day shipping times. Thanks to Amazon, if I don’t get my cat coasters by tomorrow I’m going to lose my mind. There is a demand for my desires to be met without delay, and in a sense technology delivers on this. From streaming music and movies to clothing purchase and plane tickets, I can get what I want the moment I want it.
A problem arises when we step away from our screens and onto the streets, or even into the homes and communities in which we live. The power we assumed we had does not bear itself out in the real, flesh and blood world. The importance of patience, a virtue unbecoming a god, is required to love our neighbor as ourselves. Kindness is needed when dealing with others that does not make sense when interacting with chatbots and algorithms.
Too much attachment to technology causes us to forget the words of Psalm 8: “What is man that you are mindful of him?” Used in the wrong ways, ways alluded to above, and we forget that we are creatures inhabiting a world given to us by an omnibenevolent Creator. To remind ourselves of this we need to make a deliberate practice of doing without digital technology for some portion of our week. Even if it’s only hours in a day.
I’m a luddite more in function than in principle. I barely tap into all the potential my phone and computer can do. And while I wonder about the implication of a storm of images and constant intake of videos, I like being able to call my parents while walking through D.C. and FaceTiming my nephew.
There is certainly reason to question the moral limits of technological advancement, but that’s not this essay. The question for this essay is how are our technologies changing the way we see ourselves. We are finite, we are mortal, we are needy. Much of technology wants us to forget this.
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