MANEUVERING THROUGH MUCK

Ruth Orkin, Boy Jumping into Hudson River (1948)

Some while ago I wrote an article about a social trend at the forefront of my generation. (“Everyone Is Lonely,” Nov. 19, 2023.) It’s fun to think about generations and how they differ given their different moments in history. My generation, Generation Z, is pretty well known, some even call us popular. At this point we’re used to the fame, and I wouldn’t say it phases us too much. We’re often identified with social media and its fun side effects: anxiety and depression. The articles you read about us are likely to be found in the “wellness section” of the New York Times or other mainstream publication, usually written by an experienced specialist (two, sometimes three times our senior), who describes worrying trends about us: ‘I’ve never seen such a sad, lonely, dreadful, depressed, anxious generation’... Like geez, we get it, we’re popular, but how many times do we need to hear it? It’s easy to poke fun at these descriptions, but they are also definitely true, and many friends I talk to candidly do feel this way. It’s our sort of social motto at this point. The problem is that the specialist’s lens coats over the human nuance embedded in the issues pinned to Gen Z’s relationship with social media. 

Gen Z has grown up on social media like no other generation before us and we’ve been the most readily engaged with it. We have used social media constantly throughout our most formative years in a way others have not. It has become a fundamental aspect of our adolescence. Spooky, I know. Most of us engage with social media regularly, many of us are even content creators and it's uncommon to meet a member of Gen Z without social media. Gen Zers spend countless hours, 4.8 hours on average daily, using social media, oftentimes doom scrolling as a result of an algorithm that knows them the more they continue to doom scroll. I’ll call this a ‘system’, and it is as nasty as it sounds. And look at me getting so serious, but this system is genuinely some Pablo Escobar shit. 

The often cited dopamine that doom scrolling provides is initially immense. But if you use the platform for close to a decade, like a lot of us have, the dopamine eventually thins out. The same extraordinarily cute video of a puppy tripping over itself becomes mundane over time. So, in an effort to keep you engaged, the content you consume reaches new bounds – to the point where, when you eventually do pick your head up and see some uneaten asparagus on your plate and a pissy parent asking you to eat said asparagus, your instinct is to revert back to the video of the person literally get their head decapitated. Whew, okay, that’s a lot. This is where the specialist who writes the article typically stops, maybe slightly before the decapitation, and suggests a social media ban, or some partial ban. And if you’re a parent reading these articles you too may suffer an increased anxiety. You never knew that it was this bad. You may go as far as to prompt your state-premier spouse to implement the proposed solution. 

But to me, this reaction is somewhat bizarre. If Gen Z is addicted to social media, ripping the phone out from their hands or shutting down the platforms they’re using seems counterintuitive. I mean is the solution really to force your adolescent child to cold-sweat it out in their room? This proposed solution can create resentment and distrust. If you snatch the drug out of an addict's hands and say ‘no more!’ with a proper scowl, you shouldn’t be shocked to find out they are upset, even if they know it’s unhealthy. Additionally, shutting down Pablo Escobar’s operations may not necessarily limit the long-term global supply of cocaine; someone else is likely to fill the gap.                                     

Many Gen Z peers I talk to echo a common desire to ‘quit,’ but understandably struggle when it comes to genuinely sweating it out on their own. That’s why I think Jenna Bloom’s piece in The Washington Post provides a compelling manner of social media cleansing: doing it with a friend. Jenna’s article also highlights how she found a solution that worked for her. There may be the shared interest of Gen Z, or at least some of us, to get off social media, but how best to go about that depends on the person. Not everyone is the same, of course, and if Jenna’s strategy doesn’t float your boat, I’ll gamble one in the stream of endless search results, more overwhelming than the decapitation video, could work for you. 

Here are some neat questions for you to mull over. What does it mean to toil? To expend energy? What does it mean to work for your dopamine? To find real gratification that provides a deserved dopamine boost, for me, means struggling. For those of you that can't read between the lines, or at all – like literally all of Gen Z, I’m suggesting you engage with work. You suffer, and you find a way to enjoy it, too. 

During my second year of undergrad, I put down my phone and picked up the piano – no, not literally, Gen Z. As I would reflect upon my days in the evenings, I found myself increasingly upset with how I’d spent several hours on my phone. I was wasting my time, especially when I compared how I’d feel about the time spent with schoolwork or talking with friends. The shift to piano seemed reasonable: to try practicing couldn’t be worse than rotting on my phone. The first few weeks of practicing scales were cumbersome and mentally challenging. But after a couple of weeks, I found I was able to appreciate the task of practicing and the boredom it created. Small details, previously unnoticed, became anecdotes of satisfaction. It could be the resonance changes depending on how I pressed the keys or alternative finger placement on the keys. Relishing the boredom also meant an increased patience and external appreciation. I was learning that sticking to the practice was worth it. I was able to realize that I valued the product of diligence more than pausing to check my phone. Hard work resulted in better practice sessions. Improved scales led me to learn and then fluidly play several Chopin preludes. 

     Another strategy for detoxing from social media, if you’re not sold on the idea of practicing piano, could be reading. Many of us confuse reading a book with just reading words. It takes more than understanding what various combinations of letters spell out to comprehend the contents of a book. Actually, struggle with the book, read over a paragraph, however many times necessary before you understand it. Maybe I’ve been cheekily hinting at it, but suffering with a boo may also serve your literacy well. Hell, you might even enjoy the book itself!

I’m not advocating the abolition of social media. I’m simply describing how I’ve developed an appreciation for toiling and sweating it out that changed my attitude towards challenges.  I’ve rewired the value I place on different activities. An engagement with struggle normalizes imperfection, something which has also made me more empathetic. I think it’s better to be empathetic. You can of course disagree if you’d like, and that’s okay. I’m empathetic, so I understand you may be imperfect. And no, I won’t stray into some political agenda about whatever widespread implications this social media addiction may mean for Gen Z and our future. And no, I won’t delve into the consequences of artificial intelligence automating menial tasks. Instead, I’ll simply say that I’m happier because I suffer. 

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Luka Vivas Nikonorow is a student at Bard College studying Economics and Global Studies.