Excellent contribution to the conversation about the digital age and how the Internet is eating our brains, co-authored by Josh Pauling -- an LCMS Lutheran, classical educator, and SMP student at Concordia Ft Wayne. Written from an orthodox Christian perspective, the book is able to offer a real anthropological/theological discussion of these technologies rather than just complaining about their results, and is also able to offer real, concrete solutions, since the authors share a concrete vision for human life as it is meant to be lived. It's a bit long, but well-organized for readers that might like to skip around to sections of interest.
As I write this, I'm using my smartphone as a paperweight to hold open the book I'm reviewing. Even if you've read all my reviews, you likely wouldn't know I've done this dozens of times. The reason I do this is very pragmatic: my phone is heavy enough that it can hold open a 400+ page book like this one, and the rubber edges of the phone case grip the pages better than any other object I have to hand. Of course, every time I do this there's the danger that I check my phone while writing and get distracted, but to fixate upon that eventuality would be to fall into a fatal flaw that I fear this text perpetuates.
I wanted to start here because technology is not straightforward in its uses or its effects. Sure, having access to the entirety of the internet is too much of a temptation for the average person, but there are certainly people who can handle it. I myself have a love-hate relationship with the internet, but even speaking about "the internet" is too soggy of a concept: which corner of it am I talking about? Goodreads? YouTube? Discord? In previous reviews I've considered how Goodreads encourages certain approaches to books, such as volume over quality, as well as short, witty reviews over the long, thoughtful essays I normally write. However, I think it also has some very positive aspects: it helps me keep track of what I've read, what I've thought about them, and perhaps most importantly, it prevents me from getting lost in an echo chamber. If you have no audience, you can be as nasty as you want. With my reviews being semi-public (not from my profile but from any of the respective book's pages), I can't be too inflammatory. I still say what I think, but I also tone down some of my more sarcastic moments (yes, this is me toned down lol).
But the challenge is that Goodreads looks different for every user, just like YouTube and Discord. I subscribe to a unique combination of channels on YT, and when you factor in the videos I've "liked," my recommended tab (which I've disabled via a Firefox add-on) would look unique as well. Thus, it's perilous to make general, sweeping statements about "AI" or any other technology. You'd have to narrow down considerably what you mean, and in the process you would lose most of the momentum that got you there in the first place.
As I've argued in the past, politics is always the wrong level of analysis for culture and world events; likewise is weighing the pros and cons of AI or any other technology the wrong scope for addressing technology use. Paradoxically, to rightfully discuss technology, you can't directly address the effects of technology. Of course, these authors do much more than that: they make all the "right" moves that I would make if I myself were writing such a book (referencing Byung Chul Han and Neil Postman, integrating theology, etc.). But something rings hollow despite this. The authors tried to remedy the hollowness and obviousness of many of their points by over-elaborating them and/or couching them in unnecessary anecdotes. Removing those two aspects would easily halve the length of this book. Likewise, you do not need two authors to write this book. If Byung Chul Han can write his books in under 70 to 80 pages with considerably more originality and weight, then so can these guys. If we use the media consumption (food) metaphor, Han's works are nutrient-dense superfoods compared to the fluffy-and-only-sometimes-tasty marshmallows of "Are We All Cyborgs Now."
The problem with their approach ultimately is that they try to attack the issue head-on, as I mentioned above. Most of you are probably scratching your head right now. "But that's what they said they wanted to address!" Okay, but what lessons can we really learn from a book speaking about contemporary particulars? You can learn much more about how to approach technology from ancient texts, not modern ones (which of course they reference, but I'll get to that). For example, the problem is never an issue of "How much screen time is too much screen time," but rather "Who is my God or gods?" "What do I worship the most every day?" "If I laid out all the things I 'consume' in a day (literal food, metaphorical media-food, conversations, experiences, etc.), would I consider it 'healthy?'" The best works of philosophy and theology dig under and uncover the starting assumptions in an indirect and roundabout way; our modern tendency is to fixate on means, not ends, on symptoms, not root causes. Thus the crass chapters about sex bots totally miss the boat and don't deserve to even be in the book. Porn already exists, prostitutes already exist, and more relevantly, hookup culture exists. AI hasn't changed any of those; perhaps it has accelerated or magnified them, but it's taking the bait to bemoan sex-bots (something only the upper crust of society will ever be able to afford anyway). But with that last parenthetical, I give in to the same erroneous impulse toward particulars that I fear the vast majority of the book perpetuates.
Wide-ranging treatment of life in the digital age with practical sections on home life, education, society, the church, and more. One of the most thorough treatments on the topic.