Two articles by Paul Miller, the editor from The Verge who has taken a year sabbatical from the Internet as a tech reporter.

Offline: Peeking

 Even with things that really do matter, much of what I find on the internet is reaction. It’s a YouTube video of someone’s thoughts, it’s a retweet of someone’s thoughts, or it’s an editorial of someone’s thoughts. Tweeting about a riot is different than a brick through your window, and getting a pair of shoes in the mail is different than re-tumbling a nice pair of retro Nikes.

In 1996, when the internet being a vital part of everyone’s everyday life was still a wild fantasy, Nicholas Negroponte wrote a short editorial for Wired examining the term “browsing.”

“Rarely does browsing suggest the serious, productive use of one’s time,” he pointed out. And yet, for early adopters like me, browsing has always felt like the primary purpose of the internet. Negroponte expected that by the year 2000, when the internet would be truly mainstream, we would’ve evolved past these trivial uses for such a powerful tool. Browsing might be fine for those of us kids with free time on our hands, but not for an entire society that needs to get things done, like himself.

“When people do use the Net,” he wrote of this coming tipping point, “it will be for more suitable purposes: communicating, learning, experiencing.”

Of course, he was entirely wrong. It’s 2012 now, and surfing is so embedded in our culture that we don’t even speak of it: it’s what the internet is for, and it’s the method by which we communicate, learn, and experience. That’s not to say Negroponte didn’t identify a potential problem with the internet: a troubling signal-to-noise ratio. In fact, it’s in large part thanks to this signal-to-noise ratio that I’m currently attempting an internet-free existence. But to say we’re using the internet entirely wrong, and have yet to make it a “productive use of one’s time,” is a little laughable. Yes, a culture is shaped by its tools, and the internet was shaping me a little too much, but for many people the internet remains a servant, not a master — a window, not a door.

Against the Future: Inside the Jewish Internet Rally

“It’s a culture, a psychology, a way of life,” said Wachsman. “It’s reprogramming our relationships, our emotions, and our sensitivity.”

The internet-paced, internet-defined mindset is the opposite of “kedusha,” which I took to mean patience in the context, but actually is a larger term that refers to sanctity and holiness in general. “The ability to wait is our secret,” said Wachsman during his second lecture.

“Even secular studies agree that children are being turned into ‘click vegetables.’ Bored? Click something else.” The internet equals the moment, but the Torah is about eternity. Children are plagued with “jittery inattention,” and will struggle to understand the Torah in such a state.

I was stopped by a man who asked me what I was taking pictures for. I told him I write for a technology publication. “But this is against technology,” he said. “I thought it was about technology,” I replied. He nodded thoughtfully, and gestured to me to continue, saying: “Take beautiful pictures.”

The event, which contained no music, multimedia presentations, or professional sporting, had been scheduled for 6PM, began at 7:30, and was supposed to end at 10. A patient people indeed. 

I was particularly struck by a story that Ephraim Wachsman told about a rabbi who was struggling to convince one of his congregants to get rid of his TV. After years of futile struggle, the rabbi went to an older and wiser rabbi and expressed his frustration.

“I’ve asked him time and time again, but he just won’t get rid of it!” he said.

“But rabbi,” said the older man, “the TV is his [noun]. You can only get rid of it by replacing it with a new [noun].” I thought he meant idol or obsession — another Mad Lib for me.

But what noun could replace the internet?

Offline: Ignorance He begins with talking about the “classic” children’s cartoon “Arthur” which I remember watching with my children. He also quotes from Neil Postman’s “Amusing Ourselves to Death”

What I do know is that I’m a lot more “smart” in an internet culture than in this written culture I’ve exiled myself to. In an internet culture, it matters more that I know where the facts can be found, and how to piece them together, curate, and redistribute, than how long I can keep my head submerged in 300 pages of non-fiction. When reading news on the internet, I’m defined by my filters, but when reading a newspaper, I’m defined by my patience for skimming through stories about crises in the Middle East.

Because here’s the problem: I can’t be a know-it-all anymore. I have to be something else. Without the internet, the price of knowing is steep, and the price of trivia is steeper. Who has the time? Who has the patience? Who has the proper glasses prescription? I can’t read all this shit, and now nobody else can read it for me and tell me what it says, 140 characters at a time. I feel like Arthur in a world of Brains. Sure, I’m learning life lessons in each and every half hour episode, and you look a little dumpy in your patched-elbow sweaters and corduroy pants, but you’re going to Harvard when this series is over, and I’ll be lucky to get into Podunk State.

Much has been written on how the Internet is rewiring our brains, turning us into attention-poor skimmers who know everything but nothing. In fact, I was just skimming for some quotes on this topic from Nicholas Carr’s book, The Shallows. One of my big reasons for leaving the Internet was to allow my brain some time to reset, and to take on the big challenges I’d like to set before it, like reading important books of western literature, and writing my oft-delayed Great American Sci-Fi Novel. But it never even crossed my mind that given the choice between the deep, permanent, and comprehensive knowledge that books can offer, and knowing nothing at all, I might chose the latter and align myself against the book worms.

Having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card, but learning is.