As I said last week, I will be exploring in the next few columns the effects of modern technology with our postmodern society, for good and for ill. Last week I discussed how smartphones and social media are often used as means to escape our deeper insecurities. This week I will still be discussing this theme of escaping, but in a different way. And I will be addressing not just social media, but technology as a whole: video games, the internet, binge watching on Netflix or Hulu, etc.
The greater form of escapism technology allows us to indulge in is a similar form I used during my first semester of college just last year. I was struggling to connect with people on campus, wrestling with personal issues and my girlfriend was in another state going to Louisiana State University. A lot of time was spent in my room, unfortunately, wondering how I went to having tons of friends back home to not that many here at UF. Truth be told, I was extremely sad and lonely, and it was not how I would have chosen to begin my college career.
I bring this up not to depress you, but to say this: While I was battling my sadness, a weird thing happened. I began to crave “Star Wars”; I watched it whenever I could. With friends, by myself, during the day, at 2 a.m.— I probably watched all five movies (I do not include “The Phantom Menace”) twice in a month. Thinking back, it seems my loneliness propelled me into “Star Wars’” arms, simply because I wanted to escape into that universe. When my attention was turned to a lightsaber duel or on the complexities of Yoda’s facial expressions, it was precisely where I wished it wasn’t: on my emptiness.
It seems, then, that my dissatisfaction with reality caused me to try and escape into another reality, however nerdy it happened to be. In a similar fashion, I see many people unconsciously using their phones whenever there is a free moment, as if they were portals that transported them into much more interesting worlds.
I wonder, though, if the reason why we use this technology so much is because it offers us what real life cannot: the ability to be the person we long to be. Through social media, I can present a filtered and deliberately chosen image of myself that illuminates my good attributes and ignores my deep insecurities; through video games I can become a hero, a villain, a star athlete, an elite warrior, a legendary Pokémon trainer, etc. In short, modern technology allows us to escape into a limitless world where we can control our experience of life, whether through posting a highly liked picture, playing an awesome video game or even shopping online.
Why is it, though, that when offered the choice between a fixed, limited world and a loose and unbounded one, we choose the latter? Why do we prefer the world of potential over the world of actual?
It seems people today exist in a constant contrast of experiences: We dwell in a space between what is and what we can manipulate into being. I wonder what is so encha
Loneliness and escapism technology: Lessons learned from ‘Star Wars’
As I said last week, I will be exploring the effects of modern technology and our postmodern society, for good and for ill, in the next few columns. Last week, I discussed how smartphones and social media are often used as means to escape our deeper insecurities. This week, I will still be discussing this theme of escaping, but in a different way. And I will be addressing not just social media, but technology as a whole: video games, the internet, binge watching on Netflix or Hulu, etc.
The greater form of escapism technology allows us to indulge in a similar form I used during my first semester of college just last year. I was struggling to connect with people on campus, wrestling with personal issues and my girlfriend was in another state attending Louisiana State University. A lot of time was spent in my room, unfortunately, wondering how I went from having tons of friends back home to not that many here at UF. Truth be told, I was extremely sad and lonely, and it was not how I would have chosen to begin my college career.
I bring this up not to depress you, but to say this: While I was battling my sadness, a weird thing happened. I began to crave “Star Wars”; I watched it whenever I could. With friends, by myself, during the day, at 2 a.m.— I probably watched all five movies, not including “The Phantom Menace” — twice in a month. Thinking back, it seems my loneliness propelled me into the arms of “Star Wars” simply because I wanted to escape into that universe. When my attention wasn't turned to a lightsaber duel or the complexities of Yoda’s facial expressions, it was precisely where I wished it wasn’t: on my emptiness.
It seems that my dissatisfaction with reality caused me to try and escape into another reality, however nerdy it happened to be. In a similar fashion, I see many people absent mindedly using their phones whenever there is a free moment, as if they were portals that transported them into much more interesting worlds.
I wonder, though, if the reason we use this technology so much is because it offers us what real life cannot: the ability to be the person we long to be. Through social media, I can present a filtered and deliberately chosen image of myself that illuminates my good attributes and ignores my deep insecurities; through video games I can become a hero, a villain, a star athlete, an
elite warrior, a legendary Pokemon trainer, etc. In short, modern technology allows us to escape to a limitless world in which we can control our experience of life, whether through posting a highly liked picture, playing an awesome video game or even shopping online.
Why is it, though, that when offered the choice between a fixed, limited world and a loose unbounded one, we choose the latter? Why do we prefer the world of potential over the world of actual?
It seems people today exist in a constant contrast of experiences: We dwell in a space between what is and what we can manipulate into being. I wonder what is so enchanting about the prospect of being in control of what others see, of getting likes or views. Maybe technology is a mirror — an impartial tool that reflects more about who we are as humans than about its own powers. We have mostly chosen thus far to use our phones not for the greater good but for personal fulfillment. The ability to become virtually what we long to be in reality has proven too powerful. But is it good to always forsake this world for another one? Is it good if the only limit to what we can access or experience today is the size of our phone, computer or TV screen?
Scott Stinson is a UF English and philosophy sophomore. His column appears on Tuesdays.
nting with the prospect of being in control of what others see, of getting likes or views. Maybe technology is a mirror, an impartial tool, that reflects more about who we are as humans than about its own powers. We have chosen thus far to use our phones not, mostly, for the greater good but for personal fulfillment. The ability to become virtually what we long to be in reality has proven too powerful. But is it good to always forsake this world for another one? Is it good if the only limit to what we can access or experience today is the size of our phone, computer or TV screen?
Scott Stinson is a UF English and philosophy sophomore. His column appears on Tuesdays.
