my social dilemma

These kids I live with always want to watch movies.

Always.

But the movies they choose are primarily veneer, shiny, high dollar sort of films.

On their own, it seems they seldom click the documentaries, the historical films, the movies that grow their empathy or their understanding.

So I started a family movie night (weekly-ish) where the movies are all entirely chosen by ME. (I have a list. Of course I do. And I’m just working my way right through it.)

Last night the list got a new contender and I bumped The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind in favor of The Social Dilemma. (Don’t worry – we’ll make our way back to the Boy next week.)

I know we’re all cancelling Netflix (and I’m high fiving that choice if that’s the one you made), but until that month membership already paid runs out, you can find The Social Dilemma right there and I think you should pull the people you love to the sofa (lure them with cashews or chocolate or whatever it takes at your house) and watch it as a family.

It’s PG-13 and a think a senator says sh*% and there are current news clips with some violent footage but, to my questionable memory, that’s all I recall. I had Otto watch it with us, although I do think its intent was a bit lost on him.

It’s a documentary-ish movie filled with interviews and clips from many former creators and designers for social media giants like Google, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest.

The basic premise is that these companies are buying and selling us users. We are a commodity. And, we all know it. It delves into the “magic” behind how that buying and selling works, how the designs are purposely addictive and what the price for our attention is actually costing us.

It wasn’t exactly new information, although it also kind of was. It wasn’t exactly surprising information, although it also kind of was.

See what I mean?

(And I know I have been struggling with this topic for literal YEARS. This post is from 7 years ago – already feeling the tension even then.)

These former designers and creators and tech wizards are basically saying, “Hey – here’s this thing we built. It’s out of control. We had no idea the Frankenstein it would become. Someone needs to be responsible here.”

It’s an engaging film. It’s alarming. It’s informative. It’s convicting.

And guess what? These gurus, these inventors – they don’t give their kids social media access. Shoot, some of them don’t even allow their kids on screens at all.

As London said when they shared that specific info in the film, “Well – there’s all the red flags you need.”

Many people suggested I watch this film. My friend Hannah sent me a message after she watched it. Something about wanting to throw her phone in the trash.

I get it.

One of the (many) reasons that our annual pilgrimage to Lost Valley Ranch is so powerfully redemptive and restorative each year is because our phones get turned off somewhere around Woodland Park on a Sunday afternoon. They don’t get turned back on until somewhere around Woodland Park again the following Sunday. Not a beep, a buzz or a notification is allowed for seven glorious and complete days.

We take every Sunday off from screens too. (And, despite their complaining – and oh yes they complain – I do think the kids value that break each week.)

I’ve been battling against my own phone in my bedroom for years.

And yet, none of that seems like enough.

I hated hearing how these organizations use our information to treat us like cash cows. I don’t want to be their dollar bills. I don’t want to be an algorithm that equals profit. (Even though I know that’s how this game is played.)

One of the aspects of the film that most struck me was the manner in which the algorithms work to show you what they think you want to see, thereby transforming your feeds into a world that looks exactly like what you believe – or, more accurately and alarmingly – what advertisers would have you believe! Small, subtle changes over time in thought and behavior – that’s their stated goal.

Following the film I asked the kids what they thought we were doing right with our cell phones and what we were doing wrong.

The flaws in my parenting are many but I have no regrets over the fact that I have never allowed any of my kids to have access to social media in high school thus far. There’s no Instagram or Facebook for them. They cannot use Google on their phones. I have four teenagers, two with phones and one a senior. We’ve talked a lot about when that gate lifts, she and I. Is it her senior year? I don’t think she needs much time to be an expert at social media – if anyone ever needs that skill.

Rules, like anything in parenting, have ebbed and flowed. The two that have never shifted are the No Phones Allowed In Bedrooms & Bathrooms and No Phones at Meals. If they’re on the phone, I want it to be pretty obvious.

But even with these restrictions and guidelines, it’s the messiest sort of business.

My stomach hurts at the irony of this all. The fact that I’m typing this blog post and the only way anyone will ever read it is if I tell them via Facebook or Instagram or directly send it to their email address, where they will likely scroll through it on their phone.

I talked with the kids about this too. About the impossible irony of the fact that a large portion of our family’s livelihood is internet-based.

I don’t want to be a part of the problem. And living with even ahint of hyprocrisy pains me.

Where does that leave me?

Well, if only I knew.

As we talked through this idea post movie viewing, there did seem to be some moral difference between being upfront and offering an intentional advertising service to businesses the way I do through Travelers Rest Here and the way Facebook is creating a purposely addictive platform generated to sell users’ views as a commodity.

But maybe that’s how our brains want to justify what we think we need to do.

I don’t know.

Here’s what I do know.

I’m still not letting my kids sign up for any social media feed.
I’m keeping every notification and alert muted or turned off on my phone and on theirs.
My phone lives in the primary part of our home, not my bedroom.
The kids’ phones stay in the main living area too.

My eyes are open wider than they were before.

I’m motivated and asking my kids to hold me accountable for mindless scrolling without the specific purpose of accomplishing a task, primarily my job online.

Although I generally do not do this, I will be more proactive in not acquiring my news from any source someone shares on Facebook.

If you’re a parent who has already possibly allowed your child more freedom than you intended in this area, it’s not too late. You’re the parent.

I can’t promise it will go over well at first.

But you can have a conversation that goes something like this:

Hey there son/daughter. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t have given you a phone as soon as I did. I don’t think Instagram is good for your heart. I see you spending more time looking at your phone than looking at the trees or at the faces of your siblings. I know this will be hard at first, but we’re going to start over and here’s what that means ….

While I hadn’t started down the social media path for my kids, I did have a conversation very similar to this with one of my kids about their phone and putting it in a permanent-for-now time out. I called Verizon and even removed it from my bill.

And you know what, it went over just fine.

And, you know what is even a bigger deal?

That kid is happier. That kid is more physically active than before. That kid even thanked me (later, naturally) for removing the phone. That kid has redeemed their time and refocused their interests and frankly, our whole house is better for that.

I don’t know the answers at your house. Or for your kids’ phones. Or for your own phones. Maybe it means deleting apps. Maybe it means silencing notifications. Maybe it means timers and accountability. Maybe it means a flip phone or a landline. I don’t know.

I still don’t know what it all means at my house either.

But I’m paying attention.

I don’t want want to be a dollar sign and I won’t make other people be one either.

Go watch the movie – tell me what you think.

Let’s have tea and talk about it.

We’ll silence our phones.

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