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.