Jonathan Haidt’s “The Anxious Generation” is getting a fair amount of attention, as Big Books by Big Authors tend to do in the days following their publication. In a nutshell, Haidt argues that smartphones — not Covid, not climate change, not mass shootings — are at the root of Gen Z’s well-covered tendency to be more depressed and less optimistic than older Americans. He talks mostly about the corrosive effects of social media, but it’s another part of the grinding-down aspect of smartphone life that interests me: Surveillance.
Haidt is friends with Lenore Skenazy, who made a big splash a few years back when she wrote about letting her 9-year-old find his way home from Bloomingdale’s (they live in New York City) alone. The kid had a $20 bill for emergencies, but no phone. He had been riding on public transit for years and knew the system. And he was fine. The piece splashed so big that Skenazy spun it into an organization, Free Range Kids, that advocates for loosening the tethers that worried parents place on their children, to give them age-appropriate freedom and independence. Let go, let God. It’s good for them. Etcetera.
I think this is a good idea, which is easy for me to say, as my own child is 27 now, but looking back, I reflect that life got easier when I did the same thing. We live in a safe community, but in conversation with Kate’s peers’ parents, I got the impression that few others think so. At least with regard to their own offspring.
Which I get. Your child is the most precious thing in the world, and you’d do anything to protect it. But around here, parents go to insane lengths to do so, and increasingly, the smartphone is key to everything. For instance, it’s commonplace for people around here to leave their phone’s location-sharing on all the time, and share with their family. So not only do parents know where their kids are, kids know where their parents are. Spouses track one another in real time.
This is always explained, and justified, as a matter of safety, trust and love. It’s a way of showing up for each other, to say “if you need me, this is where you can find me,” or “I worry about you, so it helps to know you’re safe.” Bad things happen to people. A couple years ago, a freshman went missing at Michigan State after a night of heavy drinking. Common sense would tell searchers where to look (the Red Cedar River, running through the middle of campus), but it took weeks to find him, and that’s exactly where his body was. The discussion afterward centered on improving security with more cameras (the one nearest where he fell in was out of service), not discouraging the blackout drinking that leads to these incidents.
Kate had a friend when she was young, who lived a block away. She liked to spend time over there — they had video games and better snacks — and by the time I’d call her home in wintertime, it would be dark outside. They never failed to drive her one block home, and when I suggested that was excessive, the reply was always, “If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.” That nothing had happened to any child walking home in our community, that anyone could remember, meant nothing. There’s always a first time.
I think about the kids we see in Europe; we usually go during the school year and have seen uniformed children on the streets and squares of Paris and Barcelona and Morocco and Madrid. No adults are in evidence, and if they are, they keep their distance. These kids get on and off buses and trains and play freely with one another — a soccer ball seems to be all they need to have a good time. I don’t recall seeing any phones in a child’s hand in these street encounters. While I’m sure they have video games and their own anxieties, they don’t seem to be the American kind.
The night of Kate’s high-school graduation, her band played a gig in Hamtramck. They all surrounded me and begged to borrow my car, a Volvo station wagon at the time, for their upcoming tour. It would be two or three weeks on the road, all of them 18 years old. I thought about it for a while, considered that they had been playing unsupervised gigs all over one of the country’s most dangerous cities (according to the stats, anyway) for a couple years now, and finally said yes. And while I’m certain there was drinking and weed-smoking and other stupidity taking place over that fortnight, they came home safe. They were ready.
OK, getting to week’s end, have to finish a piece, so here’s some bloggage:
Neil Steinberg speaks for me when he suggests Ronna McDaniel’s betrayal of her own country shouldn’t be excused easily:
The former chairwoman of the Republican National Committee thought she could shed her Trump-coddling, election-denying, democracy-shredding raiment and simply rejoin polite society. And, sadly, the out-of-touch NBC brass hoped she could too, briefly. Imagined McDaniel might provide some of that good old fashioned Red State perspective, make the case for lies and delusion, maybe snag a few viewers drifting away from Fox News.
But legitimate NBC journalists rebelled, on air. Thank God. That’s how it should be. Some things cannot be forgiven. Maybe casting a ballot for Trump two or three times, in the privacy of the voting booth, can be reframed as a secret shame. But at some point, as you rise up the ladder in the pyramid of cowards, quisling and craven opportunists, you lose the chance to walk away from your treachery. At some point you end up in the dock in a plexiglas booth.
Yep. Also, Joe Lieberman is dead, and someone will mourn him, but it won’t be me:
Lieberman’s last term in the Senate was not one in which he shined. He played an absolutely critical role in making sure that the Affordable Care Act had no public option. He told Harry Reid he would filibuster any effort to create a public option. And while he wasn’t the only Democrat to torpedo a far better bill than what got passed, Lieberman has more than his share in the blame to make that happen. A lot of people were disgusted by his behavior in the 2006 election and he was only polling at a 31 percent approval rating in 2010, so he decided to retire at the end of his term. Chris Murphy replaced him and finally Connecticut Democrats had a real senator representing their interests.
…Lieberman may have theoretically supported Clinton in 2016, but he was happy to work with Trump. In fact, who did Betsy DeVos have introduce her to the Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pension Committee for her confirmation hearings as Secretary of Education but Holy Joe himself. Great that he was willing to vouch for such a lovely person. Lieberman always had a soft spot for Trump. Speculating that the latter could run for president in 2000, Lieberman said in 1999, “The Donald is quite a ladies’ man. He’s going to have, if elected, an all-female cabinet … Secretary of Energy Carmen Electra, Secretary of Defense Xena the Warrior Princess.” That’s some hot comedy from our favorite senator there! Trump nearly named him FBI director to replace James Comey, which would have been a total shitshow. I wonder if Lieberman would have toadied up to Trump in the required manner or whether his “look out for me and me alone” mentality would have let to a total blowup. I almost wish it happened just so we could have yet another reason to hate the man.
A good weekend to all. At the end of it, it’ll be April.