The World Beyond Your Head

Crawford explores the concept of focused attention as a transformative practice, referencing the late novelist David Foster Wallace. Wallace, in notes found posthumously, described how deep attention to mundane activities like watching golf or doing taxes could lead to moments of bliss, equating the experience to stepping from black and white into color. He considered this focus a form of ascetic self-experimentation, akin to an alternative to chemical-induced states, particularly relevant given his history with addiction.

Crawford delves into how such focused attention can serve as a counter to our default self-centeredness, which Wallace argued dominates our everyday experiences and interpretations. However, Crawford challenges Wallace’s notion that this reorientation of attention is purely a matter of choice or an act of will, suggesting instead that it should involve a genuine interaction with the world.

He contrasts Wallace’s approach with that of novelist and philosopher Iris Murdoch, who advocated for a redirection of attention to real, external objects to displace harmful emotions, rather than merely reimagining one’s circumstances. Murdoch emphasized that attention should lead to a reorientation toward things that genuinely attract and engage us, thus providing new energies and a more realistic connection with the world.

Furthermore, Crawford explores the concept of narcissism in relation to our modern interactions with technology and people. Narcissism, he explains, is not about grandiosity but fragility, characterized by a blurring of the lines between oneself and others. He uses Sherry Turkle’s observations to illustrate how our digital lives facilitate this narcissism by allowing us to interact through controlled, simplified versions of people—essentially tailored representations that suit our needs and reduce the complexity of real interactions.

Crawford contrasts this modern tendency with scenes from the original Sesame Street, which depicted raw, unfiltered human emotions and conflicts, suggesting that earlier media representations embraced the complexity of human interactions more openly. He argues that our current avoidance of face-to-face conflict and preference for mediated communication reflect a broader cultural shift toward self-protection and a curated self-image that avoids genuine confrontation and engagement.

Crawford contrasts his experiences at two different gyms to illustrate the concept of “flattening” in modern social environments. Crawford recalls the gritty, communal atmosphere of a YMCA gym in his youth, where music was a contested and defining element of the space, reflecting the personalities of those present. This old gym felt like a place of real engagement, where the music and the environment were directly influenced by the individuals there, giving it a palpable sense of ownership and community.

Years later, at a university gym, Crawford notes a stark contrast. The environment is sterilized, with music piped in through a ceiling speaker system, playing neutral, inoffensive “emo” music that no one seems to enjoy but everyone tolerates. This music, which Crawford describes as “institutional noise,” represents a broader cultural shift toward sanitized public spaces where personal expression and confrontation are minimized. Crawford criticizes this modern approach as a manifestation of subjectivism, where aesthetic judgments are seen as purely personal and not subject to communal consideration or debate.

Moreover, Crawford delves into the concept of “leveling,” a term Søren Kierkegaard used to describe the process by which public abstraction overwhelms individual distinctiveness, resulting in a society where personal relationships become shallow and formulaic. Kierkegaard critiques the loss of genuine connection that comes from leveling, illustrating how traditional, deeply felt relationships—like those between a rebellious son and his father—have been replaced by impersonal and detached interactions. For Kierkegaard, true individuality emerges through differentiation and rebellion against authority, a dynamic that is stifled in a leveled society.

Crawford further explores the implications of this shift in the context of sexuality and romantic relationships. Drawing an analogy with the scripted interactions of pornography and the procedural approach to consent on college campuses, Crawford argues that these frameworks aim to mitigate the vulnerabilities inherent in genuine human connection.

Crawford concludes that the modern ethos of impersonality and representative identity—whether in the democratic institution’s neutral approach or the controlled environments of sexual interaction—ultimately erodes the richness of human experience and the development of true individuality. This societal leveling produces what Kierkegaard feared: a “colorless cohesion,” where genuine differentiation and the risks that come with it are avoided in favor of safe, predictable interactions.

Crawford examines how the ideal of individual autonomy and self-reliance, deeply rooted in American culture, paradoxically leads to conformity and a statistical understanding of the self. He references Alexis de Tocqueville’s observation of Americans’ self-sufficient judgment in the absence of clerical authority, which ironically results in a dependence on public opinion to alleviate the anxiety of individualism. Crawford illustrates this through the reception of the Kinsey Reports in the mid-20th century, which offered statistical norms on sexual behavior as traditional mores weakened. People turned to these reports to gauge their own “normalcy,” thereby conforming to a new statistical norm.

Crawford also discusses the evolution and impact of social surveys as told by Sarah Igo in The Averaged American. He highlights how these surveys, initially intended to empower individuals by providing an objective platform for self-expression, ultimately promoted a sense of isolation and conformity.

Additionally, Crawford explores the diminishing emphasis on individuality in contemporary culture, attributing it to the rise of collective intelligence and the influence of technology. He critiques the current fascination with the “wisdom of crowds” and “hive mind,” as promoted by tech ideologies that prioritize content aggregation over original creation.

Furthermore, Crawford highlights the impact of these trends on educational and professional environments, citing how roles like writing are being transformed into “content expertise,” where aggregation becomes more valued than original expression. He uses Jaron Lanier’s criticism of “digital Maoism” to discuss the erosion of individual insights and the rise of a collective approach in decision-making across institutions. This collective ethos, Crawford argues, diminishes personal accountability and insight, leading to an environment where people are less likely to take risks or assert individual opinions.

Crawford reflects on the broader implications of these shifts, considering how they affect our understanding of authority and responsibility. He suggests that the massification of opinion and the decline of individual accountability create a “gray fog” of authority, where no one takes responsibility, and it becomes challenging to discern or challenge the source of decisions and norms. As he puts it, “It is hard to see where this fog is coming from. It is hard to avoid it, and hard to take issue with it” (205).