Digital Brains, Analog Souls

Recently, I've been thinking on the nature of all things digital - the spectrum of digitalia, if you will. What does it really mean to be a digital native? And even if we can be digital natives, are we meant to be? Furthermore, do we want to be? How do we, as ephemeral beings, best deal with the even more ephemeral phenomenon of technology?

I will posit that as we race headfirst into what will undoubtedly be the Age of AI, one of the great challenges for humanity will be in determining how to reconcile the wants and capabilities of our digital brains with the needs and aspirations of our analog souls. It is a different type of challenge than, say, climate change or globalism. It is an evolutionary change that is required. Either we accept and integrate, or capitate, technology's role in our lives.

While the changes that the digital revolution have wrought are manifold, there are three mechanisms that have significantly impacted our relationship with the world around us, and which are provoking profound disorientation in our analog souls. As we seek to reconcile our new digital capabilities with our perhaps more quotidian analog needs, these mechanisms must be acknowledged and considered.

1. Layers of abstraction
2. Exponential scaling
3. Constant acceleration

For the purposes of this essay, I will leave the definition of "soul" as an exercise left to the reader. Define it as best suits your outlook. I'll offer that I use the term as a counterpart to the more rational, transactional aspects of our thinking mind. Similarly, I use the term "analog" in direct opposition to "digital".

On Abstraction

Our bodies and souls have evolved in intricate ways to respond to the objects around us. A whisper of scent evokes a memory decades old. The feel of wind brushing our hair creates a sense of ease and harmony. The voice of an old friend, comfort, and a memory that we will, only years later, realize. Even as more and more aspects of our lives are hidden behind new and increasingly dense layers of abstraction, we never truly escape the analog. Nor should we hope to.

A brief detour into abstractionism. One of the key benefits of modern society is the collectively agreed-upon layers of abstraction that facilitate everyday life (or, as my father likes to say, "reality is a handshake"). Reality is an agreed-upon construct. As are the abstractions that enable it. Banking systems. Modern food cultivation. Transportation networks. The Internet. As society grows and evolves, it is able to build upon these layers of abstraction to provide remarkable conveniences at minimal incremental costs. Each new abstraction is derived from a combination of technological advances and societal trust inherited from the previous abstraction.

With each passing year, these layers become more sophisticated in their capabilities, but move us further from the underlying concept. Much like the shadows in Plato's cave, they are reflections of a deeper reality. Take, for example, a present-day Venmo transaction. Venmo is nothing more than an abstraction layered on top of a convoluted financial transaction ecosystem, represented by EFT transactions, the SWIFT messaging network, and various credit behemoths. This transactional system is in turn an abstraction over the manual exchange of currency (i.e., fiat money). Fiat money itself, by definition, is merely a faith-based abstraction over an exchange of value between parties.

These abstractions provide simple interfaces and ready affordances to complex problems. But with each iteration, the original notion becomes increasingly indirect, and the distance between us and the "concrete" world we have evolved to intuitively grasp grows further.

But wait, why is this a problem? Perhaps it isn't. Our brains are well-equipped to navigate layers of models. We are nothing if not simplification machines, always looking to pattern match and impose narratives atop chaotic processes. So far, so good. Our brains flatten the complexity inherent to these abstractions. Some might argue that this simplification allows us more time for higher-order thinking and pursuits, and they wouldn't be wrong. Even so, one can't help but feel that much of the malaise of modern society - loneliness, lack of purpose, ennui - is directly tied to our disconnection from the more primal aspects of life, and that technological abstraction is at least partly to blame. We create distance through abstractions - distance from nature, from tactile responses, from human connection - and this distance does little to nourish us.

On Exponential Scaling

In the early days of COVID, there was much discussion on the exponential nature of virus spread, and how populations and governments were ill-prepared to understand what it means for a virus to spread in an exponential fashion. Exponential growth, in its simplest form, means one person spreads to three people (at minimum), who each in turn spread to three people, who each in turn spread to three people, etc. Very soon, from that single "patient zero", within ten cycles, 60,000 people have been infected. Within fifteen cycles, nearly 14,000,000 people have been infected. Perhaps it's a point that doesn't require repetition, but while the math makes sense, it's often difficult for individuals to comprehend just how fast these numbers can compound. Our brains have evolved to quickly recall small groups of numbers. We can easily keep small sets of data in our brains' working registers, but soon fail once the amount of data grows (the magic number of digits we're able to actively retain seems to be "seven"). We can quickly assess the threat posed by a hostile group (or a charging moose!), but we are not yet equipped to do so at Internet-scale.

Information now travels exponentially faster than it used to. That is terrific for disseminating news, or allowing us to instantaneously contact family and friends. While this is often helpful, it also erodes the barriers that used to provide just enough friction to generate the heat that relationships require. What does it mean to communicate daily, but never really be near? When we spend time communicating but miss out on the oxytocin release that in-person interactions provide? What happens when instant communication becomes a simulacra for real connection? Furthermore, what happens when instant information dissemination creates a real danger to our being?

This is the threat then, of annihilation, that hangs over us all. When the first nuclear blast was detonated, Robert Oppenheimer thought to a line from the Bhagavad Gita: "Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds". The destruction of the first mushroom cloud spawned the birth of the nuclear age, with visions of school children drilling to hide under their desks, and giant cooling towers rising high above the landscape. The birth of the Internet, and subsequently, the mass adoption of AI were comparatively quieter. There was no physical explosion. A few bytes passed between Ethernet nodes. But in our present-day manifestation, we live under the threat of constant surveillance. By bad actors, state actors, and society at large. Fear that an errant statement, our worst moments, will define us forever.

The brain knows that the Internet has been a wonderful creation - one of mankind's best. But intuitively, we sense in our spirits the rotten core of weaponized annihilation. As tribal creatures, we are not prepared for the nation-scale condemnation that the Internet allows.

On Acceleration

We have evolved to reason in the present. We plan our lives in terms of solar cycles and seasons, doing so in good faith that the investments of time we make in our present will pay future dividends. But these cycles are increasingly collapsing as the whirlwind of technology around us accelerates. Seasons may still exist, but they matter little when we no longer feel their changes; when we are instead governed by 24-hour news cycles, real-time information feeds, and continuous product release cycles. Acceleration ensures that nothing you purchase will remain relevant for long (think yearly iPhone releases, disposable toys, etc.), and the skills you learn (outside of their intrinsic value to you, the holder) will soon be invalidated. There is something enormously disquieting about this.

While the body may crave the dopamine hits that our accelerating world provides us, our souls still desire moments of quiet peace and contemplation. It is possible that I am projecting, though I like to believe that, more often than not, the conscientiously thinking person appreciates the quietude of natural processes. And in fact, these frequent dopamine bursts have become more necessary the further we distance ourselves from nature. Nature, by definition, moves at its own natural pace. Technology, as an attempt to harness and improve upon nature, moves at a faster pace. As we pursue technology, we must move at its speed, or risk falling behind.

The atrophy of skills (or in the case of AI, the wholesale nullification of skills) that this acceleration creates further adds to the disorientation we feel. This is a recurring theme I feel the need to continue addressing. Past generations could reasonably assume that skills, once acquired, would serve the acquirer well over the course of their lives (albeit with reasonable upgrades and training). Any threats or disruption would generally emerge over the course of a decade or more, allowing some to retire, and others to reskill. The AI revolution is posing an entirely different challenge to knowledge workers. We continue to hear that Generative AI is different - and truly, it is. What does one do, how does one react, when the skills that are central to one's identity are suddenly obviated? What is to be done when reading, writing, critical thinking, and language development are commodified? Beyond simple professional relegation, there is something larger at play here. There is more of an identity disassociation - ego death, if you will. Not only have your skills been devalued - but they are available to others on the open market at a massively reduced barrier to entry. People who have not spent years training will still be able to perform knowledge work at an adequate level. The system will evolve, but it will be tremendously disruptive, and will create churn on a level not seen before in the advanced professional class.

So, what is one to do?

With the signals around us increasingly trending digital, our brains are learning to process faster, but our souls are not keeping pace. They are resisting, seeking to carve their own niche in our being. Time will tell whether they hold the siege or bow down before the marauding forces.

Just as the problem is both individual and societal, so too must be the solution. We must collectively embrace new norms, establish new cultural patterns and expectations. The technology itself must evolve to be less intrusive. As individuals, we must practice discipline in our use of technology. Some may choose to do so by using purchasing power as way to influence manufacturers. Others may choose to disconnect and dip a toe in the stream more often. Whichever path you choose, embrace the dichotomy.

This is not a call for less technology, it is a call for more managed, humane, technology, and more explicit opportunities to step away from it, even if only temporarily. Learn to navigate it in whatever fashion you choose, but recognize that a careful balance is required.

Find the things in life that make you feel good. So long as they don't negatively impact others, do those things. If it's coding, watching movies, creating content - do that! But if, like me, you feel a creeping sense of unease at how the factors that enable technology are also encroaching upon our inner selves, then, by all means, pivot and resist.