Q: Why are the world’s greatest public technocrats also its greatest private technophobes? Can you imagine the outcry if religious leaders refused to let their children practice religion? Many experts both within and beyond the world of tech have shared similar perspectives with me. Several video game designers told me they avoided the notoriously addictive game World of Warcraft; an exercise addiction psychologist called fitness watches dangerous—“the dumbest things in the world”—and swore she’d never buy one; and the founder of an Internet addiction clinic told me she avoids gadgets newer than three years old. She has never used her phone’s ringer, and deliberately “misplaces” her phone so she isn’t tempted to check her email. (I spent two months trying to reach her by email, and succeeded only when she happened to pick up her office landline.) Her favorite computer game is Myst, released in 1993 when computers were still too clunky to handle video graphics. The only reason she was willing to play Myst, she told me, was because her computer froze every half hour and took forever to reboot. (c)
Q: Instagram, like so many other social media platforms, is bottomless. Facebook has an endless feed; Netflix automatically moves on to the next episode in a series; Tinder encourages users to keep swiping in search of a better option. Users benefit from these apps and websites, but also struggle to use them in moderation. According to Tristan Harris, a “design ethicist,” the problem isn’t that people lack willpower; it’s that “there are a thousand people on the other side of the screen whose job it is to break down the self-regulation you have.” (c)
Q: In a 1990 editorial in the British Journal of Addiction, a psychiatrist named Isaac Marks claimed that, “Life is a series of addictions and without them we die. (c)
Q: Addiction, to Peele, is “an extreme, dysfunctional attachment to an experience that is acutely harmful to a person, but that is an essential part of the person’s ecology and that the person cannot relinquish.” (c)
Q: In 1984, Alexey Pajitnov was working at a computer lab at the Russian Academy of Science in Moscow. Many of the lab’s scientists worked on side projects, and Pajitnov began working on a video game. The game borrowed from tennis and a version of four-piece dominoes called tetrominoes, so Pajitnov combined those words to form the name Tetris. Pajitnov worked on Tetris for much longer than he planned because he couldn’t stop playing the game...
One satisfying feature of the game is the sense that you’re building something—that your efforts produce a pleasing tower of colored bricks. “You have the chaos coming as random pieces, and your job is to put them in order,” Pajitnov said. “But just as you construct the perfect line, it disappears. All that remains is what you fail to complete.” Mikhail Kulagin, Pajitnov’s friend and a fellow programmer, remembers feeling a strong drive to fix his mistakes. “Tetris is a game with a very strong negative motivation. You never see what you have done very well, and your mistakes are seen on the screen. And you always want to correct them.” Pajitnov agreed. “What hits your eyes are your ugly mistakes. And that drives you to fix them all the time.” The game allows you the brief thrill of seeing your completed lines flash before they disappear, leaving only your mistakes. So you begin again, and try to complete another line as the game speeds up and your fingers are forced to dance across the controls more quickly.
Pajitnov and Kulagin were driven by this sense of mastery, which turns out to be deeply motivating. (c)
Q: Other studies have shown that we’re also driven to build more Legos when the completed products—the fruits of our Lego-building labor—are stacked up in front of us, rather than removed as soon as they’re completed. The sense of creating something that requires labor and effort and expertise is a major force behind addictive acts that might otherwise lose their sheen over time. It also highlights an insidious difference between substance addiction and behavioral addiction: where substance addictions are nakedly destructive, many behavioral addictions are quietly destructive acts wrapped in cloaks of creation. The illusion of progress will sustain you as you achieve high scores or acquire more followers or spend more time at work, and so you’ll struggle ever harder to shake the need to continue. (c)
Q: During the 1990s, psychologist Paco Underhill famously watched thousands of hours of retail store security camera footage. The cameras captured all sorts of shopping behavior, most of it mundane but some of it interesting and useful to the store owners who asked Underhill for help. One of Underhill’s most famous observations was the so-called butt-brush effect. In cluttered stores, where merchandise racks are placed only a few feet apart, customers are forced to squeeze past one another. Underhill’s footage captured hundreds of these unintentional butt-brushes, and he noticed an interesting pattern of behavior: as soon as women, and to a lesser extent men, were brushed, they tended to stop browsing and often left the store empty-handed. Butt-brushes were costing stores a lot of money, so he sent a team to investigate why. Were customers abandoning the store as an act of protest? Were they disgusted by the idea of touching a stranger? In fact, customers had absolutely no idea they were reacting to butt-brushes at all. They acknowledged leaving the store, but almost always said it had nothing to do with the presence of other shoppers. Sometimes they cobbled together good reasons for leaving—they were late for a meeting or needed to collect their kids from school—but the pattern was just too strong to deny. What Underhill had identified was a stopping rule—a cue that guided customers to stop shopping. The rule wasn’t something those customers could explain, but it was there, guiding their behavior all the same. (c)
Q: Zeigarnik’s career took off eventually, but her academic life was just as turbulent as her personal life. She was forced to write three doctoral dissertations after the Soviet authorities refused to recognize her first dissertation, and her second was stolen. She had copies of the second dissertation, but was forced to destroy them when she feared that the thief might publish her work and accuse her of plagiarism. For almost thirty years, Zeigarnik wandered in academic purgatory before completing her third dissertation and joining Moscow State University as a psychology professor in 1965. She was elected chair of the department two years later, and held that position for the next two decades, until her death. With mountainous talent and dogged determination, Zeigarnik ensured that the cliffhanger ultimately resolved in her favor. (c)
Q: “A few years ago, I hired a girl to slap me in the face every time I went on Facebook.” That worked well, for a while, ... (c)
Q: When you set your emails to auto-delete or your office to disappear, you’re acknowledging that you’re a different person when you’re tempted to check your email or work late. You may be an adult now, but this future version of you is more like a child. The best way to wrest control from your childish future self is to act while you’re still an adult—to design a world that coaxes, cajoles, or even compels your future-self to do the right thing. An alarm clock called SnŪzNLŪz illustrates this idea beautifully. SnŪzNLŪz is wirelessly connected to your bank account. Every time you hit the snooze button, it automatically deducts a preset sum and donates it to a charity you abhor. Support the Democratic Party? Hit snooze and you’ll donate ten dollars to the G.O.P. Support the Republican Party, and you’ll donate to the Democratic Party. These donations are your present self’s way of keeping your future self in line. (c)
Q: Behavioral architecture acknowledges that you can’t avoid temptation completely. Instead of abstinence and avoidance, many solutions come in the form of tools designed to blunt the psychological immediacy of addictive experiences. Benjamin Grosser, a web developer, devised one of these clever tools. Grosser explains on his website:
The Facebook interface is filled with numbers. These numbers, or metrics, measure and present our social value and activity, enumerating friends, likes, comments, and more. Facebook Demetricator is a web browser add-on that hides these metrics. No longer is the focus on how many friends you have or on how much they like your status, but on who they are and what they said. Friend counts disappear. “16 people like this” becomes “people like this.” Through changes like these, Demetricator invites Facebook’s users to try the system without the numbers, to see how their experience is changed by their absence. With this work I aim to disrupt the prescribed sociality these metrics produce, enabling a network society that isn’t dependent on quantification. (c)
Q: People flock when you turn a mundane experience into a game. (c)
Q: There are two ways to approach behavioral addictions: eliminate them or harness them. Elimination was the subject of the first eleven chapters of Irresistible, but—just as DDB did in Stockholm—it’s possible to channel the forces that drive harmful behavioral addiction for the good. The human tendencies that enslave us to smartphones, tablets, and video games also prepare us to do good: to eat better, exercise more, work smarter, behave more generously, and save more money. To be sure, there’s a fine line between behavioral addictions and helpful habits, and it’s important to keep that line in mind. The same Fitbit that fuels exercise addiction and eating disorders in some people pushes others to leave the couch behind during an hour of exercise. Addictive levers work by boosting motivation, so if your motivation is already high there’s a good chance those levers will compromise your well-being. If you’re a couch potato who hates to exercise, a dose of motivation can only help. (c)