
Donât lose yourself in a digital world (Image: Patrick Zachmann/Magnum Photos)
If you want to be free in a digital age, must you switch off your computer, ask two new books, The End of Absence and The Glass Cage
WHAT is it like to be alive at the moment? How is our sense of self changed by what we experience? Can we even say there is such a thing as an indelible self of the kind envisioned by psychoanalyst Carl Jung? And, if so, what impact does technology have on it?
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The End of Absence by Michael Harris and The Glass Cage by Nicholas Carr grapple with these fundamental, intriguing questions. Harris discusses âwhat weâve lost in a world of constant connectionâ, while Carr muses on how automation influences us. Both authors are concerned with the cyber revolution and how it has affected society and the self.

Harris, in his mid-thirties, feels that he is one of the âtranslators of Before and Afterâ. He points out that, before long, no one will remember a time before the internet, and asks what this unavoidable fact means.
At the beginning of his story, Harris is a full-time journalist. He spends his days emailing, tweeting, watching videos of dancing cats, uploading pictures of his lunch and so on. One day, Harris realises he has an excessive number of windows open on his computer at the same time, and a text appears on his phone from an ignored friend: âDude, are you alive or what?â
He fears he may be making an unnerving realisation: the internet has become the âreal worldâ and physical reality is being set aside. âThe daydreaming silences in our lives are filled; the burning solitudes are extinguished,â he says. Longing for his lost solitude, Harris quits his job and embarks on a quest to regain the âabsenceâ of before.
For a while Harris boycotts the internet altogether, discerning that âif solitude feels painful, itâs only because we donât know how to be aloneâ â words inspired by American polymath . Harris is eloquent on virtual narcissism, the âinauthenticityâ of augmented reality, filter bubbles and web curation. He spends evenings at home, reading War and Peace, in the hope that Tolstoy might offer an antidote to cyber-surfeit. I suspect Tolstoy would have been tweeting himself senseless were he alive today. But Harris is sick of the internet, just genuinely bored.
âI suspect Tolstoy would have been tweeting himself senseless were he alive todayâ

°äČč°ù°ùâs The Glass Cage is also about how the digital age is changing who we are. Automation makes lives easier and chores less burdensome, but it also has âdeeper, hidden effects⊠Automation can take a toll on our work, our talents, and our lives. It can narrow our perspectives and limit our choices.â
Here, too, the main concern is our loss of alertness and individuality. The complacency automation breeds can lead to collective stupor: drivers even to the brink of a fast-flowing river or gaping abyss. Pilots, used to relying on autopilot, forget how to fly.
Concerning the promise one Google executive made that Google Maps would mean âno human ever has to feel lost againâ, Carr remarks: âTo never confront the possibility of getting lost is to live in a state of perpetual dislocation.â Silicon Valleyâs obsession with streamlining peopleâs lives using software reduces the individual to âa passenger in his own bodyâ.
°äČč°ù°ùâs vision is bleak â and exaggerated, as is Harrisâs description of a life of cyber sound and fury, signifying nothing. Yet both authors emphasise that they donât want to return to the predigital age. Carr makes a crucial point when he argues that the real sentimental fallacy today is âthe assumption that the new thing is always better suited to our purposes and intentions than the old thing. Thatâs the view of a child, naive and pliable.â And neophilia fuels consumerism: if people believe new equals good, they are more likely to chuck out last yearâs iPhone and queue overnight for the latest model.
So technology is only an aspect of a bigger problem: the way extreme capitalism stymies the individual. Take Facebook founder Mark Zuckerbergâs that people today can only have one identity, and even that acting differently with friends and co-workers shows âa lack of integrityâ. We are, Carr says, âcreatures of the Earth. Weâre not abstract dots proceeding along thin blue lines on computer screens.â When the drivers of the internet convert us into market algorithms, or objects of surveillance, our unease is as much about inequality as about the technology itself.
Both Harris and Carr seek to disentangle the individual from the ties that bind, and to detach the âIâ from the âweâ. The advice? Do (almost) anything, so long as it is genuinely felt â intended, rather than imposed. Do not sleepwalk across the internet, or elsewhere. If , go ahead.
On the other hand, beyond the dire compulsion of earning a wage, no one has a gun to your head: âTweet or die!â We can exist passionately and distinctly, online or offline. We can develop complex, authentic experiences beyond the grasp of the most sublime algorithm, so long as we are truly and freely ourselves.
âBeyond the dire compulsion of earning a wage, no one has a gun to your head: âTweet or dieââ
HarperCollins
W. W. Norton
This article appeared in print under the headline âHigh-tech psycheâ