It’s not only a new year but a new era.
We’ve survived a quarter of a century into the first century of the third millennia of the Common Era. This is approximately the two-thousandth anniversary of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection that supposedly brought salvation to all of humanity. Praise be! More prosaically, it’s Donald Trump’s second (and final?) term and the fascist takeover or techno-feudalist butterfly revolution is well on its way, whatever that portends.
Certainly, all the MAGA evangelicals and other fundies are worked up about the End Times, the Rapture, the Tribulation, the Second Coming, and, of course, the Anti-Christ. It doesn’t occur to them that the demiurgic Anti-Christ — The Beast, Man of Sin, Son of Perdition, Lawless One, The Adversary, The Wicked One — might already be here and in power of the largest empire on earth, as the present president of the United States or rather the god-emperor of the American Empire.
Then there are other visions.
If misunderstanding the Star Trek philosophy and worldview, tech oligarchs like Elon Musk claim admiration for Star Trek seem to be pushing us into the Star Trek timeline of a future history that is rapidly becoming the future present and tumbling into future past (Star Trek Over Time & Snow Crash vs Star Trek). This is the year, by the way, when World War III is narratized as beginning with it’s predicted culmination being in 2053. It’s supposed to involve nuclear apocalypse, ecological destruction, and a final death toll at 600 million.
One worries that these deranged and Machiavellian tech overlords, with the full support of their fundy authoritarian followers, are pushing events in that direction on purpose as part of a self-fulfilling prophecy. They are doom-mongering accelerationists, after all.
Various other thinkers — Neil Howe (The Fourth Turning Is Here), Peter Turchin (End Times), Walter Scheidel (The Great Leveler), etc — have their own theories of what’s happening, what’s causing it, and what’s to come. In any case, the dire state of omni-crisis we find ourselves in is undeniable. It does get one thinking and puts one’s life in perspective.
Almost anyone alive right now is likely wondering about how the present might relate to the future, about where ongoing events are leading us, assuming there will be a future for humanity at all. As it’s been put, the light up ahead is either the end of the tunnel or an oncoming freight train. One way or another, we’ll soon find out.
* * * *
That leaves us ordinary folk in a quagmire.
Most of us are just trying to get by. We don’t have the capacity to affect major events. But we are forced to face them, no matter what we think about it all. Up to this point, it seems the average person was hoping to make it to the end of their life before the shit hit the fan — probably no such luck, unless you plan on dying immediately.
We’ve all sensed bad things coming and most would rather not think about it, just pass the buck down to the next generation. Now it seems the buck stops here. We the living are that last generations in the cycle (death spiral?). We are forced to suffer the consequences and, if we can, to clean up the mess (pull up from the impending crash at the last moment?).
So, what does one hope to achieve in a world that is threatening catastrophe, chaos, and collapse? What is the point of doing anything at all? What kind of future, individual and collective, do we dare to hope for?
Or for some people, “What, me worry?”
For all my pontificating, I’m often in that latter camp. I spent decades in crippling depression. I’ve been waiting for the end of the world my whole life, having grown up on post-apocalyptic movies. In elementary school, back in the late 1980s, my class was given an assignment to write a story. My choice was to describe a post-apocalyptic earth where a few survivors wandered the ruins. The narrative was internalized.
It was plausible and realistic at the time, with the Cold War posing threats of doom. But so far, that outcome has not come to pass. Nor have I had to deal with quicksand, as was a scenario in nearly every television show of my childhood. So much for fiction predicting reality. But then again, there is still plenty of time for predictions to be proved to have been prescient.
It’s just all the fear-mongering at some point becomes numbing, a defense mechanism of PTSD. At this point, maybe I just have fewer shits left to give.
Even with possible apocalypse once again at our doorstep, such as a third world war, my psychological response is often: Meh. Whatever will be will be. But I’m not so detached as to not care about life, my own and that of others. It’s just my concerns have been narrowed down, as the larger world is just a bit too much at the moment. The anxieties of life, even when overwhelming, can become dulled down after awhile. It’s like working in a noisy factory that causes hearing loss.
Yet it’s not that I don’t plenty obsess over the fate of humanity, if my preferred frame tends to go in other directions, such as what the social sciences tell us about the meaning of humanity. Concerning myself about whether Trump or some other idiot decides to launch nuclear missiles, whether climate change brings on a new ice age, or whatever else — it’s a fruitless activity. I want to keep my focus on what matters most, specifically in terms of what’s in my power to influence.
The immediate world is bad enough as it is. And each of us has our personal challenges that will keep us preoccupied for the rest of our lives.
* * * *
I don’t normally do New Year’s resolutions.
It’s not because I never resolve to do or not do something, philosophical debates of free will aside (Robert Sapolsky, Determined). Nor is it that I fear I won’t be able to commit to and maintain my resolutions. I’m typically fine with making changes and sticking to them when such seems needed and desirable, attainable and worthwhile.
My unconcern, though, is just that the New Year is an arbitrary time. There is nothing about an artificial point on a calendar that inspires me to reassess my entire life and aspire to change things, to do better.
But as often happens, a friend asked if I had a New Year’s resolution. I did not and said so.
Nonetheless, there have been niggling thoughts on my mind about the state of my life and of society. It’s not like there aren’t endless opportunities for improvement all around.
And as my birthday is at the end of the year, it’s hard to ignore the fact that I’ve now reached 50 years old, the half century mark; with the two halves of my life split between two separate centuries, two separate millennia. So, I do have to decide how to spend the rest of my life, although that’s always the case. For hunter-gatherers, the average individual hits their physical peak in their fifties. But for modern Westerners, most are already showing major decline by that point, or often much earlier — healthspan being a different issue than lifespan.
Admittedly, if far better off than typical, I am feeling my age. And I can’t deny that my choices, actions, and behaviors affect not only my physical health but, as important, my mental health.
With that in mind, maybe I do have a New Year’s resolutions of sorts, if something I’ve already been long struggling with. As has caused much public concern and debate, there is the effect had by the new media and its corresponding technology, specifically with a tech oligarchy having taken over the United States with aspirations of globalizing techno-feudalism, maybe akin to the dystopian future of Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash.
It gives one pause.
If I can’t stop this weird breed of authoritarian accelerationism that hopes to bring on an End Times to give birth to the Second Coming of a strange AI dark lord (with Jesus replaced with a Sauron-like figure), I can at the very least make decisions and commitments about how to relate to it all. So, I resolve to be more aware, intentional, and discerning in my media usage.
* * * *
I’ve long realized this is important and I’ve acted on that realization. So, it’s not exactly a resolution to start something entirely new. Just to bring an old concern to the forefront and to recommit to this change.
For the past decade or so, I’ve steadily broadened my curtailment of social media, along with having boycotted tech behemoths like Amazon. I’ve also unsubscribed from the streaming service companies that bowed down to MAGA fascism by paying bribes or tributes to Trump. At the very least, I don’t have to give these evil corporations my money, time, and attention.
Yet the allure of the online world, especially YouTube (a weakness of mine), keeps drawing me back in. I need to go the route of Alcoholics Anonymous — once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. These media platforms are designed to be addictive and manipulative. I need to go cold turkey. As one drink leads to another for the alcoholic, the same is true with one click on a video or whatnot.
I need to double or triple down on my resolve.
I had to learn that with my decades of sugar addiction, having developed it in childhood. I have enough self-control to not take that first bite of candy, potato chips, or whatever other kind of junk food. But once that first bite is taken, once the taste is in my mouth and the sugar is flowing through my veins with my serotonin spiking, I very well might not have enough strength within me to resist the second bite and the third, fourth, etc. Then a binge will likely follow, possibly along with regret and misery, shame and self-blame.
But the thing is that it’s not a matter of being personally weak. And so we have to be more intelligent and wise by understanding where resolve matters and how it can work, as opposed to when it’s a counterproductive, unnecessary, and futile struggle. That is to say one needs to locate points of leverage, rather than bashing one’s head into a wall.
As with tech media, ultra-processed ‘food’ products (UPFs) are carefully designed by corporate-hired scientific researchers to be extremely addictive, such as being more intensely tasty than any natural food with that sought-after mouthfeel and the triggering of the reward system (Robert Lustig, The Hacking of the American Mind). This stuff isn’t ‘food’ in the normal sense. It’s closer to a drug.
Your biology, your brain is no match against the trillions of dollars plutocrats have invested in the knowledge of how to pull your strings like a puppet.
It’s good to be a bit paranoid in such a scenario. They really are out to get you, to use and abuse you. You can’t directly fight against that. It’s more about awareness, knowledge, and insight than self-control. Just don’t put yourself into situations where you know the table is tilted in their favor, where the game is rigged against you. In recognizing you’re outmatched and disadvantaged, don’t meet them on the battlefield of their choice. The house always wins.
Don’t take that first bite. Reclaim authority over your own life. Take control of that initial decision of where and how to engage. If you’re not in control, then it’s likely you’re being controlled by tools and systems of control. This is capital ‘C’ Control, as William S. Burroughs described it.
* * * *
That is where my own resolution comes in.
I find myself irritated and frustrated, emotionally jerked around whenever I’m on these corporate media platforms, at least the popular ones. They mostly or entirely disallow personal autonomy and control. The algorithms determine your feed as a ‘user’, the content you’re recommended, and the advertising you see. The bots monitor everything you do, determine what others can see of what you do (along with what you can of what others do), and control how you’re allowed to interact: filtering search results, disappearing comments, shadow banning, deplatforming, etc.
It generally operates in the background and so goes unseen, which makes it all the more nefarious and insidious. All that they allow is an illusion of free choice in a public-like space. But in reality, it’s all shaped and influenced by monied and powerful interests; with endless propaganda of capitalist realism, American imperialism, Zionism, etc. And they do their best to trap you in an echo chamber, to keep you ignorant, disinformed, and clueless, or else irate and reactionary; to keep us all at odds with divide and conquer.
If you think you’re smarter than these forces of perception management and social control, then you are stupid and a fool. Intellectual humility is in order.
I’ve seen too many people fall prey. The tactics of manipulation are always several, if not dozens, of steps ahead of public media literacy. It could take generations for we the citizenry to catch up to where big tech is right now and so to catch on to how the game is played, although we are gaining insight. But public knowledge that is actionable will be too late for almost anyone alive right now.
[As a side note, this manipulation happens in many ways.
As shown by research based on cultivation theory, repeatedly viewing media portrayals of violence will elicit mean world syndrome, that is to say exaggerated threat perception and punitiveness, social conservatism and right-wing authoritarianism. This is true even for exposed liberals. One study found that, after watching continuous footage of the 9/11 attacks on tv, liberals later became more supportive of right-wing policies: Homeland Security, Iraq War, etc.
Similarly, I’ve known of leftists who explored reactionary alt-right literature out of curiosity. Then they begin to exhibit reactionary attitudes and express reactionary thought. These were highly intelligent and informed people who thought they were above the power of such rhetoric. They went into it knowing what it was and yet, as mind viruses, it still slipped past their intellectual defenses and infected them.
Choose your media consumption carefully as it might consume you. None of us is above being vulnerable. Always be on guard by developing intellectual self-defense (Normand Baillargeon, A Short Course in Intellectual Self Defense: Find Your Inner Chomsky).]
Furthermore, it’s also how these tech companies intentionally promote what elicits engagement, what incites and riles emotion, at any cost. That usually means the worst demons of our nature: fear, anxiety, alienation, anger, hatred, bigotry, scapegoating, and worse still like cruelty, vengeance, schadenfreude, and on and on. This is how we’re led down a dark path of doomscrolling, idiotic online pseudo-arguments, trollish antisocial behavior, and superficial ingroup bias of polarized partisanship, identity politics, victimhood Olympics, etc.
All of this is exacerbated by how electronic media elicits and antagonizes the destabilizing and deranging conditions of a post-literary culture. This is seen with both the tribalism of Marshall McLuhan’s global village and the agonism of Walter J. Ong’s secondary orality. The literary-based culture, as it’s operated for centuries, no longer fully applies (Jeff Jarvis, The Gutenberg Parenthesis).
And so the whole world is thrown up into the air, with an accompanying sense of weightlessness until we hit back down again. With no way to get our bearings, no chance to catch our breath, it makes everyone feel on edge, constantly agitated and exhausted, as we brace ourselves for the coming impact.
* * * *
One doesn’t need to intellectually understand all that, if the context helps. Nor does one have to sit around worrying about the larger implications and long-term consequences. But one should take seriously that one is up against forces that are outside of individual control. There is a vaster field of action far beyond you and, to those in power, you’re just another pawn, a data point, a user profile.
That is all the more reason to prioritize what we do control, while avoiding as much as possible what we don’t.
Personally, this means that I’m picking my media usage with great wariness and care, weighing the pros and cons with each option. I don’t want to become a luddite and hermit, hiding from the big bad world. As I’m a writer, I need or rather desire a platform on which to publish and hopefully to gain an audience. But I want to stay away from any platform that doesn’t allow me to control all major aspects of my experience.
That is why I got off Medium and returned to WordPress, even if the latter might be a dying platform. I’m going back to what I know, at least for the moment while I reassess my situation and determine my options.
WordPress, if nothing else, offers much direct control, in terms of what matters to me. I can set all my pieces or a single piece to no comments, moderated comments, or open commenting. Also, I can entirely block individuals from leaving comments at all. This allows me to proactively cultivate my audience and hence my experience. I don’t need to ever engage with trolls, the mentally disturbed, bad actors, or simply people who irritate me and offer nothing of value.
It’s a rare breath of fresh air, as compared to most elsewhere on the internet.
It reinforces the sense of my writing space as being my own personal space. I’m given the tools to determine for myself how I wish to engage with the online world. Fewer platforms do that anymore. Hence, I prefer the old school design of WordPress that, as far as I can tell, hasn’t yet fallen to enshittification (Corey Doctorow).
In addition, WordPress brings me straight to my own page, not the main WordPress page. Without any extra steps (e.g., signing out), I can see my page as others see it, which isn’t an easy option on Medium. When I go to Medium, I’m first confronted with recommendations, mostly of articles from people I don’t follow. Medium is telling me what they think I should read, not what I want to read. In that, it’s more similar to social media like Facebook, Twitter/X, and YouTube.
I want the freedom and demand the right to curate my own experience. And I’ll accept nothing less. I’m not going to lower my standards to turn myself into a mere product of big biz, as part of their scheme to control the internet and hence control the public mind. I’ll only deal with businesses that treat me with basic respect, that seem to hold true to the old vision and ethos of the internet as an equalizing force.
* * * *
But also I require dependability.
I’ve been on WordPress a little less than two decades. In all that time, they’ve never once jerked me around or caused me problems. WordPress simply works almost seamlessly. It’s simple and perfunctorial. It just works. Apparently, WordPress management and designers see it as their job to make my life easier and to incentivize my participation. Whereas some other major platforms act as if they’re doing us peons a favor by allowing us to produce free content for them to profit by.
That is because, specifically on social media, we the users are the product being sold. I have no interest in being a product placed on the mind-slave block. I’m the human here. Corporations should serve me, not the other way around. That is true of the system in general, from a leftist perspective of freedom and liberty. Humans should always be front and center.
That is what, after initial positive experience, finally sent me jumping the Medium ship. Out of the blue without any warning, they one day suspended my account. I no longer could publish articles or comment. I made a formal complaint and my account was quickly reinstated. But with opaque bureaucracy, they never gave me a verbal response, never explained, never apologized. I have no way of knowing what happened or why. And worse, I have no way of preventing it from happening to again.
The Medium staff acted like arbitrary gods from up high, an impersonal and faceless force that will-nilly determines your fate. They owe you nothing and make sure you realize you’re inferiority, your utter dependence on them. Make the wrong move and you’re done. There is no fellow human to appeal to, as could be done with a local brick-and-mortar business.
I had no desire to have that hanging over my head, to be in that kind of non-relationship of power disparity. So, I left Medium and don’t regret it. I demand to be treated with basic human decency. That’s non-negotiable.
Now I’m back on WordPress. But as I explained, it’s not about just this one issue. I’m in the process of curating my entire online experience. I’ve decided to be more careful of where and how I spend my time, to guard jealously my personal autonomy in this attention economy, ruthless and manipulative as it is.
On a simpler note, it’s partly just no longer wanting to waste my time. And as anyone knows these days, that’s easy to do. One post, tweet, video, link, etc leads to another, often as part of an endless feed that mindlessly leads one along. Before you know it, hours of your life may have disappeared and you hardly remember what you did.
It’s demoralizing. Just whittering away your precious moments of life.
* * * *
Even when not mere pointless and mind-numbing distraction, something like a long intellectual discussion on a YouTube video can, nonetheless, feel like empty calories. During that same time, I could’ve been reading a book or finishing one of my thousands of drafts.
It’s not only the quality of the content but the quality of the engagement. It’s what it’s doing to me. A video is passive and so it instills in one a sense of passivity, of just letting life slip by. With endless opportunities of preoccupation, there never needs to be a moment for boredom, contemplation, people-watching, or whatever. The online world can absorb one’s entire awareness and there will never be an end to the content on display.
We need moments of downtime when nothing is happening, when the mind wanders and daydreams.
That is what turns on the default mode network. It’s in this state that the mind can process and gain perspective. It’s why there are so many anecdotes of scientists, inventors, and such coming to some great insight while going for a walk or taking a bath. Research has found something as simply 15 minutes of doing nothing causes people to come up with more creative solutions.
That’s the thing. As a GenXer, I remember the world before the internet. I know what it feels like to be motivated into creativity because I had nothing better to do — for example, sitting in front of a blank piece of paper waiting for inspiration or just writing down whatever came to mind. I haven’t done that kind of writing in a long time, truly emergent creativity.
And it will never happen as long as I let the tech lords own and possess my mind.
I can come to the end of a video that may have had some value and yet still wonder why I watched it. It’s the unfocused nature of simply clicking on something that captures my attention but without any conscious intention on my part. One loses the sense of making a choice. Indeed, the algorithm has us all figured out. Even for us intellectuals, it knows how to grab hold of us, and then it can be so hard to pull back out. The claws pierce deep into our psyches.
Besides the severe alienation of it all, the demoralization and depersonalization, mediated reality can swamp an individual in so many ways. It’s a race to the bottom where the the lowest common denominator rules. It will drag you down with it and keep you mired.
The more time I spend online the more I realize that the best people likely spend the least amount of time online. Those actually accomplishing something meaningful and worthy, generally speaking, aren’t to be found on social media and in comments sections. That creates the sorry state where those who have the least maturity, depth, intelligence, understanding, knowledge, insight, creativity, humility, compassion, and moral concern are those with the greatest presence and the loudest voices. It’s mostly, if not entirely, the dregs of society with the time to dedicate their entire lives to non-stop opinionating, sparring, trolling, and shitposting online.
This includes troll farms and mercenary paid trolls. Not to mention the growing tide of bots and AI content; a significant portion of it being pushed as part of propaganda campaigns serving diverse nefarious interests. It’s a fucking nightmare. We are entering what many describe according to the dead internet theory.
Actual humans interacting normally with other humans is becoming a thing of the past. Our very humanity is disappearing into the morass.
One comes across entire comments sections that very likely were produced entirely by non-human entities spamming and spewing out advertisements, talking points, or whatever other bullshit. Data analysis has already found that, in some countries, most of the internet activity is no longer human. I’ve seen arguments in threads where I suspect both sides were bots, or else people have become so influenced by bot talk that they’re starting to sound like them — the latter would be a truly dark turn.
To make matters worse, with deepfakes, it will get harder and harder to determine what is real and factual. We’re being buried alive in a post-truth world.
* * * *
It can make one feel defeated, as if the only option is to give up and retreat. But I don’t want to.
There is little point to writing without an audience. And, for good or ill, it’s hard for the average or even above average writer to find an audience these days while abstaining from online platforms. Sadly, it’s nearly impossible for most people to maintain their own websites, as everything has gotten too complex. And opportunities of publishing in physical venues are declining, as local newspapers and magazines close down.
There is another complaint I have about the internet in general and most writing platforms in particular. I developed my love of writing long before I got my own internet connection in 1998. The internet, though, has changed the equation and can cause me to forget why I came to enjoy writing so much in the first place. If it’s hard to imagine now, I used to write all the time without any audience in mind, as I had no audience other than close friends. There was a freedom in it, as one didn’t feel a compulsion to constantly tailor oneself according to the responses, demands, suggestions, and complaints of others; much less conform to algorithmic machinations that determine if you’re seen or buried.
That relates to another problem with Medium.
To get any major exposure, a writer had to get pieces accepted by a ‘publication’, each with its own focus, requirements, and style; all of which has been shaped by internet weirdness. I found that I had a talent for writing great pieces that could get published and sometimes drew in large audiences. Decades of experience have honed my skills in knowing how to shape an appealing piece, and the constraints in some ways brought out the best in me. I further learned what works in the online world, how to break up texts with subheadings, quotes, pull quotes, images, videos, and links.
To the credit of Medium, they do have an impressive platform in many ways that is user friendly. I don’t regret my time spent there. But in the end, I want to write on my own terms. That is what WordPress has allowed me. Last decade, I was averaging 80,000 clicks per year on WordPress with no need for any ‘publication’ to promote my work. I did my own thing in my own way and gained a large following.
I don’t know, however, if that’s possible now.
I’ve been inactive on WordPress for a while and so have lost most of my active followers. Plus, though WordPress used to be a heavy-hitter that was prominent, I have a suspicion that Google and other search engines now push WordPress articles further down in results. It has the stigma of being an old ‘blogging’ platform and that is no longer fashionable, if technically there isn’t any fundamental difference between it and the newer writing platforms.
I’m not sure what I want to do or how I should go about doing it. Many writers left Medium for Substack. All the cool kids, public intellectuals, and celebrities are on Substack now, at least until another new and popular platform comes along. I just have no interest in platform jumping with the eternal hope of catching some wave. Rather, I simply want to plunk down somewhere and have a solid, if not necessarily massive, following of interested readers — more emphasis on quality than quantity. Better yet, I’d like to be part of a community of writers, as I did find on Medium to its credit.
For the moment, I’m holing up here on WordPress and licking my wounds. Maybe I’ll eventually venture out to some other platforms. Even in that case, I think I’m going to keep WordPress as my home base, for as long as possible.
As such, here I am and here I will remain.
But how do I make the best of a bad situation? I want to be more proactive, selective, and discerning in how I spend my time. I want to get back to focusing on my own aspirations, in particular my vocation as a writer. I want to get shit done. And in what I do, I want it to matter. I write because I care about the world, about humanity. That is what I need to keep front and center, the whole reason that helps me remain motivated and inspired, curious and interested.
I’m an intellectual in a media environment where intellectuality is being downgraded in value. All I’m trying to do is find my niche, a place where I belong and possibly even can be respected. I have something unique and worthy to offer. That is what I need to stay focused on. All I can do is what I know how to do and do it to the best of my ability.
That is my New Year’s resolution. Or just call it a resolution. It’s my recommitting myself to what I’m already committed to but with renewed focus and intention.
* * * *
Resolution aside, much of last year was spent pondering how media affects me. To that end, I’ve been studying the history of media and research of its impact on mentality, behavior, and culture. This was the topic of one of my recent writings: The End of the Age of the Masses.
It’s with all of that on my mind that I felt like writing this piece. I do have many further thoughts on the matter. So, it’s probably safe to suggest more such pieces will be on the way. But for now, I’ll end it here with a book recommendation list:
Public Opinion
by Walter Lippman
The Image
by Daniel J. Boorstin
The Gutenberg Galaxy
by Marshall McLuhan
The Sensus Communis, Synesthesia, and the Soul
by Eric McLuhan
Amusing Ourselves to Death
by Neil Postman
The Shallows
by Nicholas Car
Stolen Focus
by Johann Hari
The Gutenberg Parenthesis
by Jeff Jarvis
The Science of Reading
by Adrian Johns
The Alphabet Versus the Goddess
by Leonard Shlain
The Spell of the Sensuous
by David Abram
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