How to Detox From Social Media Without Going Cold Turkey
It's the steps, man, the steps. [WITH AUDIO]
LISTEN HERE:
Somehow, through the fog of time and memory, I retained a concept from the one psychology class I took in college.
It is this: variable ratio conditioning.
I don’t know why I found this fascinating then, but I did. (Perhaps it was my future self talking to me?)
For those in the back of the class (which, ironically, was where I was usually sitting), variable ratio conditioning means this: in operant conditioning, a response is reinforced—i.e., rewarded—after an unpredictable number of actions.
In rat terms, here’s how it plays out:
Place one rat in a Skinner box with a lever that, when pressed, releases a pellet of food.
Let the rat press the lever and receive a pellet every time. To start. Good times. For the rat.
Then—aha!—introduce the variable ratio. Randomize when the pellets arrive. Not every time. It could be after two presses on the lever. Or seven. Or ten. Or five. The rat never knows.
Predictably, the rat gets very twitchy and starts pressing the lever incessantly. Faster and faster.
This behavior is almost impossible to extinguish—it has been so powerfully ingrained.
It’s also the business model behind social media.
Remember when Facebook first started? Not the Mark Zuckerberg Social Network movie misogynist “TheFacebook” from 2004, but the 2008 incarnation when your old friends from high school and college came out of the woodwork? When your dog became the subject of 80% of your posts?
We were amazed. It was wonderful. The brave new world. Oh, these tech people were so smart. So generous. They made this for free!
When they introduced the “Like” button in 2009, we all cried out in Sally Field-unison, “I can’t deny the fact that you like me. Right now, you like me!”
And we all wanted more. And more.
That was the first hit of bourbon on an empty stomach. The first cigarette after a long plane ride. The first line of cocaine shooting a rush of dopamine and euphoria into the brain.
The path to addiction always begins in pleasure.
For those of us with even the barest trace of people-pleasing in our makeup (and I am in this category), this was crack cocaine.
We became the plaything rats of Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos.
Facebook is a Skinner box. So is Amazon.
But that’s only the beginning of the ills of social media.
The man who invented infinite scroll in 2006, Aza Raskin, later came to regret his invention, acknowledging its role in social media addiction.
For those unfamiliar with the term, infinite scroll is a design technique that allows users to continuously load content as they scroll down a page, eliminating the need for pagination or manual loading. As the user nears the bottom of the page, more content is automatically fetched and displayed, creating a seamless and uninterrupted browsing experience.
It may seem like it started in the Middle Ages, but infinite scroll didn’t become widespread until the 2010s. It’s only a dozen years old.
(Raskin now works for the Center for Humane Technology.)
Social media has, effectively, lobotomized billions of people. We can’t read, we can’t spell. When the history of the collapse of western civilization is written, all we will have left to use is emojis.
This, I consider sacrilege.
Those of us who create for a living, those who pursue any hobby, those who try to transcend the everyday world in pursuit of something beyond themselves—we know the flow state is sacred.
Here’s Gioia:
“Even worse, we are now robbed of our flow state—which is now getting hijacked for corporate enrichment.”
And:
“Even more widespread is the hijacking of the flow state to sell advertising—promoted by social media platforms. TikTok started this—but it is now everywhere online.”
I’ve been trying to wean myself off social media, now that we know we have willingly given ALL our private information to them—for free. And they are not going to use it to be our friends.
Oligarchs see people as the shit they grow their money in.
I have been, predictably, a little twitchy lately. I find myself reaching for my phone—and stopping. I find myself looking to catch the headlines—and stopping.
Addiction is a compulsive, chronic dependence on a substance or behavior that continues despite negative consequences.
As a pastor (still—I know, I just can’t give it up), I met many remarkable people for whom the 12 Steps were absolutely life-changing. When I think of the people who actually transformed themselves, almost without exception, a 12-step program is somewhere in the background.
Most people, myself included, will have some trouble with the God part of the steps.
But there are secular versions of the Twelve Steps for those who prefer a non-religious approach.
Here is the first in a secular adaptation of the 12 Steps:
1. We admitted we were powerless over our addiction—that our lives had become unmanageable.
Can we all admit that? That’s all for today, just that simple admission.
Many of us (myself included) cannot cut ourselves off—cold turkey—from social media. I have a book I need to promote. I have a music to promote.
But I am going to keep those posts to an absolute minimum.
And—this is the crucial part of the step—I am not going to post anything that does not have to do with those two pursuits.
No matter how funny the meme, no matter how piquant the riposte (ooh-la-la)—
They feed the beast.
And the beast must be starved if we are going to survive.
The irony of having to use Facebook to promote what I write, words and music, is not lost on me.
I have found, with few notable exceptions (looking at you, Vincent), musicians are fun people to be around. I belong to a private Facebook group of composers and the people are kind, supportive, talented. No one argues, no one posts veiled insults.
It is through this group, and our willingness to share each other’s music, that I have ended up on playlists that have given me thousands of followers on Spotify. This would not have happened but for this group.
This irony is not lost on me either: I complain, starting about December 1st, about the cold. And the pieces I have written that use winter as a backdrop have been some of my most streamed. (Misery loves company?)
Thank you for reading! Apologies in advance for typos. (I am a dyslexic proofreader!)
If you “like” (heart) this post or—even better—comment, it is a big help. The post gains more visibility.
And if you enjoyed this piece, please consider sharing it with a friend:
Absolutely brilliant piece. So much food for thought. Thank you!!