The Point of Unplugging

So as usually happens, I came across an article on LinkedIn that made me want to write a response post.  This is the link in question:

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2014/03/the-pointlessness-of-unplugging.html

If you don't wanna read it, the article basically says that the National Day of Unplugging is pointless as it hasn't always produced a long-term change in those who participate.  It also goes on to characterize the movement as 'pruddish'.  While I've never personally participated in this event, as this article was the first time I'd heard of it, I have to say that I disagree with the author's point of view about this event.

First, I'd like to explain what I think National Day of Unplugging (abbreviated as NDU) is.  Based on its website, it seems that NDU is a communal event where people decide to turn off all of their electronics, such as computers, cell phones, tv's, etc.  Based on the images on the event's site, it seems that there are a variety of reasons to participate in this event, from wanting a break from the frantic nature of keeping up with social networking sites to wanting to spend more time with family.  For whatever reason, these people have decided to put down their electronics for one whole day.

In the article, the author makes a false assumption: the idea that the only reason to participate in this day is to try to enact some kind of long-term cultural change.  While this is certainly a possible reason for participating, it is quite rare for those who participate to do so for this reason.  As stated above and on the website, there are multiple different reasons for wanting a break from technology.  The author assumes that the only reason a person would want to participate in NDU is that the participant feels morally superior and is self-riteous.  Priggish was the exact word the author used.  And by making the event seem like some kind of self-riteous attempt to change the entire American culture, the author has done a disservice both to those who have participated and got something out of it and those who started the movement.

The author also states that NDU does not matter because it does not accomplish the long-term goals that the author believes it is designed to do.  Of course, this can be disputed using the points I used above.  But let's take a closer look at the long-term goal aspect of the author's argument.  The idea is if an effort doesn't yield long-term results, it's not worth the effort.  This idea has been rejected by most of society any time they have casual sex.  With any luck, casual sex does not have any long-term consequences and is engaged in solely for the purpose of short-term enjoyment.  There are numerous other examples of activities that people engage in that are not done so for the sake of long-term results, but I won't go into any more.  The point is long-term results are not a necessary component for an action to have value, and the fact that the people participating in NDU do not effect a long-term change to themselves or society does not mean that NDU is pointless.

As someone who has taken a partial break from certain technologies, let me share my side of the story.  Before this article, I'd never heard of NDU.  It happened back in early March, so I've already missed the date for it.  Whether I could faithfully participate or not is something I still can't decide.  But I do know it sounds enticing.  I often find myself behind my computer all day.  It doesn't help that I'm studying computer science, but during my recreational hours most of my time is still spent behind a computer.  As such I'm usually sitting and typing for long periods of time, which has lead to some health problems in the past.  Hell, I used to have breaks scheduled during my day where I would go outside for about fifteen minutes just to take a break from everything I was doing.  The idea of taking a day-long break sounds a little daunting, but also sounds therapeutic.

The one area of technology that I got away from permanently was Facebook.  I had noticed that Facebook had combined with my social anxiety to create a difficult to break addiction.  I noticed one time that I posted something on Facebook, then waited like a junkie looking for a fix for someone to reply to my post and tell me what they thought of it.  For those who don't know, fear of how people will respond to your presence in social situations, whether online or in person, is the largest part if not the definition of social anxiety.  This kind of addiction came from those times when someone approved of what I said, finding it funny or finding them in agreement with it.  The relief of that anxiety, of that pressure, felt good, and so I would continue to post things just to see how people reacted.  The problem, however, became that while I was waiting for someone to reply, I was tense. Extremely tense.  And there would be times when my post went ignored, with no one even liking it, and this lack of response would only increase my anxiety even more.  It was only once I realized that I was supporting my anxiety with Facebook did I decide to delete my account for good.  Since then, I've felt less anxiety about missing Facebook posts and have become much more productive.  Have I missed some of the social interactions that it brought? Sure.  But I think I've gained more than I lost from the experience.

And unlike the opinion of the author, my reason for withdrawing from this bit of technology was personal.  I know that there are other people who function perfectly well with Facebook and that deleting their account would not be a good solution for them.  For me, however, it was something I needed to do for my own health, and I don't try to push people to delete their accounts.  It was not priggish.  It was healthy.  And most people who decide to withdraw from technology do so for reasons that don't involve trying to show the world the 'right' way to act.  Most people do it for their own health and happiness.

So my response to the author of the article is this: you're wrong.  There is a point to NDU, even if there is no point to you, and I'm sorry you couldn't see that.

"Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin" Helps No One

I know someone has said something about this before on a different blog and I don't remember where it came from, but I feel that this person had a good point and I would like to repeat it.  Being in college, I've been around many people who identify as Christian who have had a more modern set of experiences regarding homosexuality (as in not just some mythical evil to avoid, but rather actual people).  As such, many of these collegiate Christians do not harbor the same kind of hatred for the homosexual community that their elder brethren do.  However, most are unwilling to question certain parts of their religion - among them the idea that homosexuality is a sin.  When confronted about this belief, many turn to the phrase "Love the sinner, hate the sin."  The only problem with that phrase? It doesn't work.  Here's why:

Christians do not truly apply the term 'sinner' to themselves.

Let's first define what I mean by 'truly apply the term'.  When a person discovers something about themselves, they have two stages of discovery: logical and emotional.  The logical stage is the first one people go through, as the logical part of their brain can come to the conclusion that they, for example, are gay.  But the emotional acceptance of this logical fact takes much more time as the emotional part of one's brain is more stubborn than the logical part.  Usually, it involves repeating the logical statement to oneself so much that one accepts the logical statement emotionally.  It's at this point that a person not only knows that they are, for example, gay, but also accepts it and all of it's implications.  Those who have truly applied a term or a label to themselves both logically know that the label fits them and have emotionally accepted that the label fits them.  Those who don't truly apply the label have only reached the logical stage.

Now it would be more accurate to say that most Christians don't do so, but those who do truly apply the term 'sinner' to themselves won't be using the term 'love the sinner, hate the sin'.  As self-proclaimed sinners, those who do truly apply the term to themselves will not segregate the world into the halves of sinner and Christian as so many others do, as it would do them no good.  On the other hand, this form of segregation is exactly what happens when most Christians use the term 'love the sinner, hate the sin'.  First off, homosexuality is the only sin that the term 'love the sinner, hate the sin' is used against.  All other sins are either considered crimes in society (whether legal, as in murder, or social, as in the case of adultery and abortion) or are ignored (such as mixed fabrics and shaving).  Since our society as a whole demonizes anyone who commits a crime, Christians are able to hate those who commit those crimes without any notice as it's the socially accepted norm.  The other sins are ignored as antiquated parts of the bible as we've seen first hand that performing these sins do not cause any harm.  Homosexuality, however, is strangely different as more and more Christians are seeing for themselves that it causes no harm, but don't want to give up their hatred toward homosexuality.  As such, they try to sit the fence on homosexuality with 'love the sinner, hate the sin'.  But again, this doesn't work.

Remember the segregation I was mentioning earlier?  Turns out, this is a textbook example of creating an "us vs them" situation, one which never results in any good.  When Christians apply the term 'sinner' to homosexual individuals, they don't apply it to themselves emotionally, so while they see the commonality between themselves and homosexuals in regard to their sinful nature, they do not see it emotionally.  As such, the emotional part of their brain has segregated the rest of us from them, creating a seemingly disjoint set in which the 'sinners' are in one group while the Christians are in the other.

Now you might be asking yourself "why is this a bad thing?  Can't we just get along even though we're separate?" The answer is no, as we've seen again and again throughout history.  There seems to be something intrinsic about human nature that makes us treat those other than ourselves worse than we do.  We've seen it with segregation of African Americans before Brown VS Board of Education, we've seen it with the burning of witches, with the persecution of Jews in Nazi Germany, and countless other times.  This theme has become so common that most works in the science fiction genre involve how humans react to something 'other' than themselves, something set apart by humans due to the differences between humans and this other group, even though much is common (I would suggest reading, not watching, I, Robot; Frankenstein; and Blade Runner for good examples of this concept).  As such, it's no stretch of the imagination to see that by segregating one group of people from another, we create a classic separate-but-not-equal scenario that involves at least one of these groups treating the other poorly.

Applying the term 'love the sinner, hate the sin' continues to justify the hatred that a large part of Christianity still employs.  It separates us, makes us look less than human and more like 'sinner', leading to the fear, anger, and hatred we're seeing so much of in recent days from the church toward the LGBT community.  Now I don't expect most Christians who employ this term to know these consequences already as the privileged majority often don't realize the cost of their privilege to the minority.  As such, I am not angry with those who use said term.  However, the idea that using that term makes a Christian guilt-free has been proven false, and that fact needs to be spread.  Because the only way we're going to end the hatred is to end the justification for it, and that process starts with them.