Well, hello there (in my best Obi-Wan Kenobi impersonation). It's been over two years since I last posted anything here, and even then I was not writing very much. That's a long time away from this space; so, why now.
A couple months ago, I picked up Chris Hayes' book "The Siren's Call." It explores attention as a commodity - something we possess, something we spend, and increasingly, something that gets taken from us. As I read it, I found myself thinking between philosophical ideas I've always found compelling and our current digital landscape. After finishing the book, I felt this urge to explore these thoughts somewhere with room to breathe. And so, here I am, back at the keyboard.
Philosophical idea No. 1: When Karl Marx analyzed the industrial revolution, he identified something profound: workers were becoming alienated from their labor. As factories and machines took over, people no longer controlled how or what they produced. Their creative energy - once an extension of themselves - became an external force directed by whoever owned the machines.
Philosophical idea No. 2: Later, William James was developing theories about attention that boiled down to: you are what you pay attention to. "My experience is what I agree to attend to," he wrote. For James, attention wasn't just some mental function but a moral act that shapes who we are and how we experience reality.
I've been thinking that we're experiencing a new kind of alienation now - not from our labor (though that's still happening too), but from our attention itself. Just as industrial capitalism separated workers from what they produced, today's attention economy separates us from authentic ownership of our consciousness.
Our data, preferences, and behavioral patterns that platforms collect while we scroll aren't expressions of our authentic interests - they're commodities owned by tech companies. Instead of focusing on things that align with our values, our attention gets directed by algorithms designed to keep us engaged, not to make our lives better. And just as Marx saw creative work as fundamental to human nature, perhaps sustained, intentional focus is equally essential to being human - yet it's getting harder to maintain.
What makes this especially concerning is that industrial alienation was obvious - you could see the factory, the time clock, the supervisor. But attentional alienation is invisible. The assembly line now runs through our consciousness itself, and we often don't even notice it's there.
Hayes makes a compelling case for understanding attention as an economic resource and draws connections between Marx's analysis of labor commodification and our current predicament. He shows that what's at stake isn't just our productivity or focus but the authentic substance of who we are.
As Hayes writes, "Over time, the commodified logic of the attention market drives the price of this resource down, which is to say it cheapens the very substance of our life."
If James is right that we are what we pay attention to, and our attention is increasingly directed by profit-seeking algorithms rather than our own values, we're facing a profound form of self-alienation - separated not just from what we produce, but from our very experience of being.
Think about how many moments of potential depth or meaning get interrupted by notifications. How often our thoughts get redirected toward content optimized not for our wellbeing but for "maximizing engagement." How many conversations get punctuated by quick checks of phones, each one a small surrender of attentional sovereignty.
These aren't just distractions. They represent a fundamental restructuring of consciousness itself, one that serves capital accumulation rather than human flourishing.
In such an environment, an act of resistance is simply deliberately choosing to focus sustained attention on developing a single line of thought. Maybe reclaiming our attention starts with recognition - understanding attention not just as a cognitive resource but as a core part of our humanity worth protecting. Maybe it continues with creating boundaries and practices that prioritize depth over breadth, intention over reaction.
What would a world look like where our attention was truly our own again? Where the infrastructure of media and technology enhanced rather than exploited our capacity for sustained focus? Where we could once again be full authors of our experience?
I don't have complete answers, but I think these questions are worth our attention - perhaps the most valuable thing we have to give.
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