The Extinction of Experience: Being Human in a Disembodied World
By Christine Rosen.
W.W. Norton and Co., 2024.
Hardcover, 272 pages, $29.99.
Reviewed by J. Camden Kidwell.
Eighteen years have passed since Steve Jobs released a device capable of putting cyberspace into the palm of one’s hand. Since the birth of the internet and the iPhone, culture and technology have shifted, perhaps unalterably, into a world governed by a digital realm, a reality driven by data and algorithms that has become home to billions of human beings. But what parts of our humanity have been sacrificed to achieve this digital transcendence? With artificial intelligence slowly consuming every corner of the internet, shaking our trust in digital reality, Christine Rosen’s new book The Extinction of Experience: Being Human in a Disembodied World could not have arrived at a more opportune time. Verging on alarmism, yet never Luddite in thought, Rosen furiously weaves facts and anecdotes together into a warning cry for embodied humans to reclaim their lives, and future, in the physical world.
From the outset of the book, Rosen swiftly establishes how technology is reshaping our world by mediating our experiences. No longer are individuals experiencing the world, but watching others experience it—thereby partaking in a kind of “experience plagiarism,” to use Rosen’s words. This leads to us spending “as much time consuming the experiences of others as we do having experiences of our own.” The downside to this habit of mediation is not immediately apparent, until we turn our attention back to the physical world. In contrast to the videos of people paragliding, exploring a luxury hotel, or even unboxing a new gadget, commuting to work over rush hour feels frustratingly dull. The convenience of the virtual world and the high we get from scrolling through it is stiff competition for reality, especially when scrolling can be done from the comfort of a couch. For others, the broadcasting of experiences encourages them to make their private lives public entertainment. “We have become our own personal brand managers,” writes Rosen, “And we’ve become the ads.” The digital world pushes us to either become aliens to life, distantly watching life occur for others, or free marketing agents for corporations and brands—sometimes both simultaneously.
This migration into mediated existence is seen by many in the tech industry as our future. For example, software engineer and venture capitalist Marc Andreessen observed how those in the lower and middle classes do not have what he calls “Reality Privilege.” They are not surrounded by “beautiful settings, plentiful stimulation, and many fascinating people”—that is only reserved for the uber rich or elites. Andreessen’s solution? Let the poor enjoy the digital world because they have nothing better to enjoy. Embracing engineered cyberspace is the prevailing attitude of countless other tech founders, quoted by Rosen throughout her book. Talk of standardization, convenience, meaningful advertisements, algorithms, and efficiency are the focus of these individuals. The physical and emotional ramifications of people remaining sedentary and isolated are an afterthought for Silicon Valley. They see our embodied natures as “problems to be solved.” But the mundane activities of “waiting in line, writing by hand, remote learning, navigation, boredom” may be the only thing keeping us from becoming machines. And now, studies are beginning to demonstrate the value of these “inefficient” ways of life.
A tedious task such as handwriting was suspected to offer benefits, but as everyone could write, nobody thought to study it. Eventually, typing became faster than handwriting and people fell out of the habit of putting pen to paper. Only now, with fewer people possessing legible handwriting, do we realize what we have lost: “the sensory experience of ink and paper,” “the ability to read the words of the dead,” and even “enhanced word recognition and reading skills.” It is one of the small, but valuable, lessons highlighted by Rosen in her work, a reminder of “what we lose in this tradeoff for efficiency.” Unfortunately, we have struck much larger bargains with the digital devil.
Heads are turned downward to screens while standing in line, teachers cannot keep students focused, children are losing their creativity, empathy is on the decline, and social manners, once the norm in public spaces, are rapidly becoming extinct. These are the effects of the Pandora’s box we have opened. Instant connectivity has created a society oriented around milliseconds, breeding impatience. Waiting and boredom, which once served to cultivate patience, empathy, and imagination, can be eliminated by opening an app. We forget, as a monk pointed out to Rosen, that convenience “is the main cause of our sins.” And those who have suffered most from this societal sin are the children. Their creativity has declined as “their wandering minds are often captured by devices—smartphones and other screens that grasp their attention.” Generative AI leaves no room for a child to explore his ideas through the tactile, rewarding process of drawing with crayons. Yet when children are being quiet on the couch, glued to their screens, why should a parent send them out to play? Is it not more convenient to have them entertained by iPads? Sadly, “children who spend too little time playing struggle with executive function, then we may be raising a generation of kids with less self-control, shorter attention spans, and poorer memory skills.” In our age of information, we have forgotten how much is gained by interacting with the world around us through drawing, tinkering, and playing. “Embodied cognition,” growing in “understanding through the use of our physical bodies” is what we need. Not another conversation with a chatbot.
However, when we are confronted with the “absent presence” of another, the result of staring at a screen for hours per day, it would be tempting to label face-to-face interaction as a waste of time. For many, bad experiences with their fellow human beings push them back to their digital blanket. Risk, once assumed to be part of normal life, deters the modern person. Instead of engaging with the world, they block out their surroundings with screens and earbuds. Now millions of people move through public spaces oblivious to those around them while eagerly “talking” with friends online. Of course, by labeling “these online connections ‘communities’ and ‘relationships’… we confused ourselves” and forgot about connecting with our next-door neighbors. We no longer smile to the stranger we pass by, failing to recognize them as a fellow commuter. Dare we even “call people who are scrolling through their newsfeeds active participants in the public space?” Politicians now feel the pressure from impatient followers to generate reactions, instead of partaking in the slow process of deliberation. Handshakes of compromise are replaced by likes and comments as nations are ripped apart by algorithmically controlled citizens who walk with their heads down.
Yet dystopia is not inevitable. Bleak as Rosen’s scattered survey of modern life may seem, there remains the hope for change—for the ocean can be held back by the simple dyke. Before AI or other technologies sweep through society, silently stealing more of our humanity, communities and countries can hold the line. They can ask if this supposed progress is beneficial to present and future generations. Some of these technologies may be good but a nuanced discussion about them cannot occur when everything moves at lightspeed. And this pause can give room for us to reclaim what we have lost. “Despite what Silicon Valley marketing messages insist” there is no established trajectory because, as Rosen so aptly puts it, “Extinction is not inevitable. It is a choice.”
J. Camden Kidwell is an Honors Student at Regent University pursuing a BFA in Film. He is the president of Regent’s Intercollegiate Studies Institute chapter and the former vice-president of the university’s Thomistic Institute chapter.
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