Attention (please!)

I have a small arsenal of tactics that I use to avoid distractions during the workday. For starters, I removed the messages app from my laptop. I also set up a special focus status on my phone that silences all phone notifications — save for phone calls and anything from Dave, who made A Big Stink the one time I didn’t respond (lesson learned). Sometimes I even place my phone in another room entirely. And if I really need some extra help, I chop my day into 30-minute and hourlong increments where I do nothing but focus on one particular task for the allotted time. This all works, mostly. (Don’t look at my screen time reports.)

But I’ve also considered a Brick, the $59 device that locks access to your phone. And I can see the appeal of those dumbphones that only give you access to calls, messages, music, and maps. I really do, unfortunately, have an attachment to my phone. My dad’s knees are shot because he was a plumber for decades; my right pinky aches sometimes because it’s my preferred finger for balancing my iPhone 13.

I picked up a copy of Attensity! A Manifesto of the Attention Liberation Movement at the library, fully expecting it to offer tips on how to get off of our devices, in the same vein as my own strategies. Published just this year by the Friends of Attention, it breaks down the group’s manifesto, railing against the “attention frackers” and encouraging the reclamation of our autonomy. It’s a little preachy, a touch quirky, but it’s also not what I expected.

Notably, the authors argue that there are many forms of attention, and we’ve become focused on the version that can be quantified: Often, the attention that we give machines. Marketers want to see how many eyeballs an ad received, how many clicks something had, how quickly someone leaves a webpage or app, and so forth. That’s what’s been monetized. Our social media apps aren’t actually free; those apps make money by putting a dollar amount on your sustained attention.

“So when we insist that attention is something more than the movement of the eyes, or a flash or electrical activity in the brain, or several seconds of uninterrupted focus, a different kind of justice is at work,” the authors write. “It is not a matter of who runs the world, but a matter of what the world is.”

My assumption — and I imagine I’m not alone here — is that to “fix” the way technology distracts me is to change my relationship to my devices. But maybe not! Maybe I don’t need to find new ways to turn off my phone’s notifications, maybe I don’t need to delete all of my social media apps, and maybe I don’t need to become the most beautiful monk this world has ever seen to improve my attention span. Perhaps it’s actually about rewiring what I even consider “attention” to be. (I also cannot become a monk because I’d have to shave my head, and the only chicken pox scabs I ever picked were on my scalp. I might have a real moon-crater situation under these curls that I’m not prepared to reveal.)

An article in Scientific American found there’s little evidence that our capacity to concentrate has been impaired by technology, but our tendency to frequently jump from one activity to another — compared to previous decades — does harm our performance.

“The modern environment does not simply impose distractions,” writes David Adam. “It bombards us with alternatives that offer more immediate rewards. People are switching tasks so often and resetting their attention each time because they choose to do so, even if they don’t realize it.”

Duh. Of course you’re going to be distracted when an article you’re reading has hyperlinks to other fun, related articles. And you can endlessly scroll on TikTok because there is an endless amount of content. Remember when you could, at one time, reach the end of your Instagram timeline? And you were just done with the internet for the day??

The authors of Attensity! placed a good bit of weight on the importance of community for reclaiming attention. They offered a simple question: “Does what I’m doing bring me closer to other people, or does it take me farther away?” A really good measurement!!! Sneaking glances at my phone during commercial breaks? No connection; a little sad. Sending six-minute videos to my friend Anna while I make my bed and describe a sandwich I didn’t like? Friendship! Good!

And the activities that aren’t directly in communion with others, but connect you with the greater world, of course count as another type of attention: Reading a book at the bar, listening to music while you clean, walking the dog, etc.

Trying to sit on your computer and complete an assignment for work is absolutely going to be tricky because you have zillions of more-fun things you could be doing with that Chrome browser. And why read a magazine on the train when you could play a little game on your phone that allows you to immediately start microdosing endorphins? The digital cards are stacked against us!

Thinking of attention only in terms of what can be quantified and tracked makes it a “monocultural attentionscape,” the Attensity! authors write. Thinking of attention as a far more nuanced and complex human experience is freeing! There are still plenty of places where they can’t frack your attention.

At the risk of being publicly earnest (a disgusting, cardinal sin), I’ve been thinking about how this newsletter has reorganized my attention. Next week marks the one-year anniversary of the Hater’s Guide (the traditional first year anniversary gift is paper so feel free to upgrade your subscription IN CA$H), so I’m doing a touch of reflection. The way I read articles and essays has changed, knowing they may inspire a future newsletter. And I’m more attentive to the joys and irritations of daily life, for the sake of Friday INS/OUTS. I’m engaging with things a little differently now; my attention has grown to reach a new capacity; I am so much better than you, compared to a year ago. (I kid! My subscribers sustain me!!!! I am nothing without you!!!!!!)

We shouldn’t beat ourselves up so much when it comes to digital distractions. We can appreciate all the places where our attention can’t be measured and farmed. And that includes wandering through your neighborhood, eating an ice cream bar and considering yard sales. (Trust me!)