Web derives from an Old English word meaning “that which is woven,” referring to fabrics. By 1300, it also meant “a plexus of threads made by spider.”
Today, of course, the most common usage refers to the intricate digital web connecting the globe. Every second of every day, that web serves up words and images, links friends and strangers, and features entertainment ranging from games to movies, from videos of kittens to pornography. It feeds valuable information to all sorts of professionals, affords opportunities and ways for students to succeed in their studies and to cheat, brings views to real and fake news, provides chatbots as friends and counselors, and more.
In little more than 40 years, this invisible electronic web has granted powers to human beings unimaginable a century ago. The cyber network has brought the world into our dens and bedrooms, giving those who choose to do so the means for introducing themselves to the world.
Some commentators applaud this brave new world, forecasting a blend of man and machine into a superior being. Others denounce the immediate harm it is causing, like the decrease of learning in schools, the decline in reading across the population, a rise in depression and anxiety, particularly among the young, and the savage parries and thrusts taking place on what is blithely called social media.
And a few forward-looking observers worry that these leaps of technology will change human personhood in dramatic and largely negative ways.
Earlier this month, a review copy of Sherry Turkle’s “Artificial Intimacy: Who We Become When We Talk to Machines,” due for release in September, arrived in my mailbox. Turkle is a Massachusetts Institute of Technology professor who for decades has studied the connections between us and our digital technology. So far, I’ve only dipped into her book, but I see where she’s headed, and the picture isn’t pretty. As the back cover blurb puts it, “If social media came for our attention, artificial intelligence now comes for something deeper: our capacity for attachment.”
Turkle’s book came into my hands just after I learned that two friends were communicating with AI companions. One was in her 70s, while the other was in his mid-60s. Given the polls showing the popularity of these companions, it’s likely I know even more people who have some sort of personal relationship with chatbots. These polls vary in the data they present, but according to The Independent, one study found that 54% of Americans have some sort of relationship with an AI platform. Of that number, 28% described their relationship as “intimate or romantic.”
Meanwhile, the average American checks his cell phone 186 times a day. Over 45% consider themselves addicted to their phones. (If you’re wondering whether you qualify, try turning off your phone for four waking hours and see what happens.)
And this is just the beginning. Right now we’re only knocking at the door of a possible digital transformation of human behavior and personality, and while I’ve never possessed a talent for prognostication, I don’t need an anemometer to test the wind and predict, “We ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Which is why, when scholars and investigators like Turkle, Jonathan Haidt, Freya India, Arthur Brooks, Sophie Winkleman, and others warn us about the damage being done by screens to young and old alike, we need to pay attention. Artificial intelligence and the digital world are here to stay, and we must decide whether we will be masters or slaves.
We begin by making a sharp distinction between the real world and the digital matrix. We embrace and love the former; we regard the latter as a tool to use for information, communication, and entertainment, limiting the time we spend there.
For some, the constant effort required in this resistance to the matrix may be annoying or even painful, yet we must make that an everyday aspiration if we are to remain fully human. Even little actions – taking walks without a phone, having a screen free hour once a day, putting the phone away while eating a meal – can help us fight this battle.
If we need inspiration, we might remember that spiders build webs to capture their prey. The profit-seeking spiders behind our digital world have constructed their web from algorithms rather than silk, but the idea is the same and we are the prey.
Jeff Minick is a father of four and grandfather to many. A former history, literature, and Latin teacher, Jeff now writes prolifically for The Epoch Times, American Essence Magazine, and his Substack.
This culture article was made possible by The Fred & Rheta Skelton Center for Cultural Renewal, a project of 1819 News. To comment on this article, please email [email protected]. The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News.
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