There’s value in your attention. If there weren’t, advertisers, social media apps, and all forms of entertainment wouldn’t be vying for it at all times. This government wouldn’t be using it to distract us from their various, nefarious acts, and we wouldn’t feel as hurt when our attempts at affection are ignored. It’s referred to as the “attention economy,” and comprehending its price tag is important – just consider that this fall, Netflix is releasing a limited series starring Florence Pugh, based on the classic, 600-plus-page John Steinbeck novel East of Eden.
Around the finale of Stranger Things, articles started critiquing Netflix for courting “casual viewing” (brought to us by the same company that gave us “binge watching”). Essentially, it’s watching a show or movie, but not paying attention. You’ve got a secondary screen, like a phone or tablet, distracting you. Maybe you’re doing chores. Many of us already do this with comfort shows, but creating new content specifically with the intention of being ignored feels gross. And yet, that’s where the attention economy has led us.
At what cost? Well, remember literacy rates are falling. Trump wants to dismantle the Department of Education, and reading for fun has fallen across the board. There’s no knowing how a generation with non-stop screentime will be affected cognitively. Passive entertainment, like casual viewing, is actively training our brains away from sustained attention. Who exactly gains from an attention economy with an illiterate populace?
Certainly not all stories – and not all ideas – are equivalent across formats. East of Eden took me over four months to read, between scheduling, library returns, and finally deciding to purchase and finish the book. Netflix thinks it can condense that experience into a seven-episode miniseries. But how much nuance will be lost in translation? With any film adaptation, the viewer is watching a story filtered through a whole team of people’s opinions, biases, and ideologies. You take away whatever the writer, director, or editor wants you to take away from the source material. Can we trust the purveyors of “casual viewing” with East of Eden?
The novel is often cited as a retelling of the biblical story of Cain and Abel, the children of Adam and Eve. Reading the book is to unravel layers of family legacy, individual psychology, and American history. Making the statement “thou mayest,” an option, a possibility, the accurate translation of a bible verse originally thought to read “thou shalt,” a command. A mere mistranslation changes the entire meaning. That difference is the entirety of the book. Consciously choosing, the exact opposite of casual viewing.
As someone who is constantly distracted by social media, a 24-hour news cycle, and reality TV, I’m part of the problem. I read, but certainly not enough. I have a 2-hour limit set for Instagram and hit it EVERY DAY, and then watch in 15-minute increments until I give up, and ultimately ignore the limit for the day. That’s time that I could be spending being productive in some other aspect of my life: meditating, walking, stretching, writing, creating, socializing! Anything other than aimlessly scrolling. I try not to “casual view” new content, but I often find myself picking up my phone mid-watch to search an actress’ name, credits, birthday, height, or Instagram. Like most of us, I am not immune.
Retraining my attention is my forever resolution. I could endlessly list conspiracy theories and real scenarios the powers that be are actively distracting us from, but before I’m done, my list will already need updating. The onslaught and bombardment of villainous behavior from our current administration is the point. The scattering of our attention is meant to make us feel helpless, as if there’s too much happening for us to fix anything. It’s a tactic. Let’s not fall for it. Timshel.
