Solitude is an occasionally interesting reflection on the many qualities of loneliness in a time where we’re almost always connected with others.
When were you last alone? Really alone? Without people surrounding you and without all the virtual connections we’re constantly entangled in. For how long did this alone time last? A couple of hours, perhaps even all of 24 hours?
Being alone seems a thing of the past. We almost always find ourselves in herds, whether with people made of flesh and blood or on social media. We endlessly communicate via the bright screens we bring with us into public as well as private spaces. We share, comment on and like our own lives and the lives of others in a big common throng where loneliness seems almost like a taboo. We feel compelled to fill every opening we have with something. Waiting for the bus, for the light to turn green, for the wife to come off from work; all these pockets of time that could have been empty are instead filled with some kind of content.
What is the problem with this lack of alone time? They’re many, if we are to believe Michael Harris, author of the (at first glance) deeply interesting book Solitude. In Pursuit of a Singular Life in a Crowded World.
Technology to blame
Harris sets out to investigate why we can no longer bear solitude, what we’re losing out on without it – and therefore what we can gain by its discovery. Solitude comes across as a diatribe against technology. The reader is long left with the impression that Harris, who is obviously himself an avid consumer of technology, deep down hates it and considers it the root of all evil: social media is always demanding our attention. The small, lovable smartphone games reward our brains with a shot of dopamine and force us to play again and again because it feels good.
Apps like Google Maps and Yelp ensure that we never get lost and can always plan our ventures into the unknown, making that, too, feel familiar. Even nature has been turned into a game – when going Pokemon hunting has become the purpose of outdoor expeditions, and when we can no longer merely stand and stare at a tree, but absolutely want to get the feeling that we’re doing something. «Daydream Destroyers», Harris calls it in his anti-technological lingo. Why spend so many pages on identifying technology as the main culprit, we may wonder, and Harris’s line of reasoning is occasionally somewhat facile. Like when he claims that the use of a GIF to communicate deprives us of a «personal style.» Couldn’t one just as easily argue that a personal can manifest itself through the use of a GIF?