Forming Human Persons in a Digital Age
Personal resistance against the tyranny of modern technology
For some time now, I have been following
and ’s work on living an unconformed life in the digital age. Recently, they invited readers to submit stories of their lived acts of nonconformity and rebellion against the tyranny of modern technology. This is my contribution to the conversation.
Human beings are embodied souls. That means that we are every bit as much our bodies as we are our souls. This intertwining of rational soul and animal body is precisely what makes us human: were we soul only, we would be angels; body only, irrational beasts. That being said, we do have a word to describe the separation of human soul and body: death.
And so, it matters very much what we do with our bodies. I, like many, find myself deeply concerned by the role technology, particularly screen-based technology, plays in modern society. I believe that it endangers us and our humanity to perform in a disembodied way so many actions that are meant to be embodied: interaction (social media), exploration (browsing the web), investigation (google and other online research), play (video games), and countless other perversions of work and leisure.
I haven’t always been an aspiring luddite. Indeed, for many years I was a dogged defender of digital technology, touting its benefits and blaming its users for any ill effects that they themselves experienced. I immersed myself in video games and online entertainment to distract from health conditions that made life difficult to bear, and I barely blinked when my children asked to begin playing video games of their own. But as the years have flown by, I’ve come to see more clearly many of the destructive effects of digital technology, and I have felt a growing impetous to rout such technologies from our lives. I do not want to live my life chained to a screen, nor do I want that for my loved ones.
Despite our efforts, digital technology still has a place in my family’s life—often a much more prominent place than my husband and I like. It is difficult to put the bird back in the cage. However, we have made a conscious decision to resist tech’s totalitarian reign. Following are some of the choices we have made in our effort to live more human, embodied lives.
Home Education and Religious Formation
Education is not the act of shovelling information into children’s minds; education is a lifelong process of formation. This formation occurs with or without our voluntary participation, through exposure to a variety of forces, including what we read, what we listen to, our home atmosphere, how we worship, and our everyday actions and interactions.
We have made the choice to educate our children at home rather than expose them to the latest experimental methods in our local schools. We use minimal technology in our homeschooling efforts, eschewing screens in favour of books and paper. Whenever there is a choice between digital and physical products—for example, the choice between digital and physical letter tiles for our reading and spelling courses—we choose the physical option. If a curriculum option requires the use of digital technology, we find a different solution for that area of our schooling. Eventually, we will probably need to teach our children certain technological skills, but as elementary-school-aged and newborn, they have plenty of time before computer skills are mandatory or beneficial.
There is a thriving parish near us that offers a variety of opportunities for service, fellowship, and faith formation. They offer Mass in a range of styles, including a contemplative Mass incorporating chant and Latin, which is precisely to my taste. They baptise new converts every Easter, struggle to accommodate the number of visitors on important feast days, and faithfully transmit the teachings of the Magisterium. They are, by any definition, widely successful in their mission. But there is one problem: they choose to use screens at every Mass. Therefore, we attend a (slightly) less convenient parish, equally faithful to the Magisterium), with fewer perks, but where screens hold no place in regular worship.
In addition to attending, at minimum, weekly Sunday Mass, I also make a personal effort to take a weekly Sunday screen sabbath—an intentional day of abstention or near-abstention from using my laptop, cellphone, and other digital technologies (with some few exceptions, such as watching an online Mass if we cannot attend in person, or checking weather forecasts if a winter storm may make driving dangerous). I have found that this sabbath liberates me to experience Sunday rest and worship in a deeper and more fulfilling way, and helps me to make time for some of the more humanising activities I might otherwise neglect. This simple practice has proven to be transformative and rewarding.
The Right Technology for the Task
If something can be done on a screen or on paper, we generally try to choose paper. Thinking and planning are often best done with pen or pencil in hand, and a family wall calendar helps us to keep track of our commitments. An extensive library that includes a variety of reference books—encyclopedias, dictionaries, cookbooks, catechisms and other theology resources, hobby-related texts, and more—significantly decreases our dependence upon internet search engines and online entertainment. Personally, I would be lost without my many notebooks, and my paper zettelkasten is an indispensable asset to my intellectual life.
When we do use technology, we try to use it intentionally and specifically. We recently purchased a cd player to allow us to play music without the need of a screen-based digital device, and while I do sometimes use my cellphone camera, I much prefer my digital and film cameras. We use a baby monitor infrequently, and when we do need to use it, a basic audio-only model is more than adequate. Clocks and wristwatches save us from getting distracted by checking the time on our phones. And although I love paper books best, I recently replaced my broken digital tablet with an e-reader, since the e-reader is easy to hold while nursing a sleeping baby and allows access to library and public domain e-books, without the tempting internet browser of a colour tablet or laptop.
I do still use a computer, but I try to keep it task-specific. I am fortunate to have a laptop that performs quickly and efficiently, so I don’t spend extra time behind a screen waiting for it to execute commands. I also rely on Omnivore, a Read It Later app, to save articles of interest for reading at a more convenient time—usually on my e-reader, which is kinder on my eyes, and gets me out of the always-distracting web browser.
We don’t have a TV in our home, but we do have a Nintendo Switch, and our children are currently allotted limited playing time. To decrease the isolation created by handheld play, we have connected it to a computer monitor. This allows us to oversee play and encourages multiplayer gaming, both of which help to mitigate some of the more damaging consequences of video game use. The monitor can also be used in lieu of a television in the rare event that we want to watch a family movie. Finally, we are in the process of implementing a mandatory weekly screen sabbath for our children, to encourage them to pursue other worthwhile activities.
Inviting Alternatives
When trying to avoid something—whether it be a bad habit, an unhealthy diet, or excessive reliance on digital technology—the easiest path to success is usually not abstention, but replacement. It is easier to act than to avoid. Therefore, we consciously cultivate a home environment where family members are invited to engage in appealing non-digital activities.
Our house is set back from the road and has a large yard, so in nice weather, you will often find some or all of us out-of-doors. We are well-stocked with balls, rackets, sleds, and other outdoor toys. Raspberry, blueberry, and blackberry plants are their own invitation to tiny tastebuds on sunny summer days, and experiments in gardening provide amusement, if not always nourishment.
We live in Canada, however, so not every day is an outside day. For times when we’re stuck inside, we have shelves full of books, craft and art supplies, a variety of musical instruments, and plenty of low-tech toys and games. Story writing is also a popular pasttime (with parents performing transcription services when necessary). I’ll be honest—the children often still prefer screens, and ask for them, but it’s easier to say no when there are plenty of alternatives that we can say yes to instead.
Looking to the Future
I sometimes wish I could roll back the clock and do things differently. I like to think I would have kept digital technology out of my children’s lives for much longer, and that I would have endeavoured sooner to break free from my own digital chains. But we can only ever learn and move forward, striving to become a little more human every day.
We intend to continue to promote ever-increasing engagement with all that is good, real, and embodied, and disengagement from all things digital, both for our children and ourselves. And I hope to raise this new baby differently, in the wisdom I have gained from previous error.
The real world is beautiful, and we are meant to live in it. Let us have the courage to begin.
Wonderful piece Shannon! I look forward to adding it to our "library of unconformed lives" and sharing it with readers next week :)