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Towards the end of November 2024, news broke across the world’s media that the Australian Parliament had passed legislation banning the use of social media by users under the age of 16. This decision is an encouraging development for all intellectuals who critically reflect on the use of new media. Nevertheless, it should be borne in mind that social media are merely one colorful piece in the highly complex mosaic of the influence exerted by binary-code technologies. Fragments, however large they may be, are not sufficient to provide an understanding of the problem as a whole, which in this case is far broader and more serious.
The essence of the challenge we face may be captured by the seldom-used term screenocracy, so as to designate as precisely as possible a particular “regime” of occupying the human mind through the audio-visual stimuli transmitted via screens. The word “screen“, however, should be understood in a conditional sense: television sets, computer monitors, tablets, and especially smartphones are today’s “levers of power” of screenocracy, yet tomorrow they will be replaced by smart glasses, holograms, and who knows what else. The point, therefore, lies not so much in the type of screen that turns us into servants, but rather in the alluring electronic content that exerts a profoundly harmful influence when approached uncritically.
A crucial characteristic of screenocracy, without which its power cannot be understood, is its method of enslavement. Screenocracy draws people into servitude through their free—or, more accurately, willing—consent. Its principal weapon is its narcotic effect, which does not enslave through brute force, coercion, or pain, but subtly, by means of pleasure and gratification (the pain comes much later, as a consequence of addiction). The continuous stimulation of dopamine and endorphin release is the key strategic mechanism through which screenocracy keeps its subjects in a state of constant submission. It is precisely this electronically induced hormonal shock that, over the past two or three decades, has given rise to serious and unexpected psychophysical disorders, particularly among younger people. The endemic rise in dyslexia, dysgraphia, and attention disorders among children; the pandemic-scale prevalence of depression, anxiety, and social alienation among young people; and the increasingly bizarre forms of addiction, identity crises, and self-harm across all age groups are just some of the alarming deviations with which we are already confronted. Thus, while this text was being written, one of the leading news stories in the Serbian media concerned the mass injury of Balkan teenagers after they had taken part in the “Flying Superman” challenge that had emerged on the social media platform TikTok. Regrettably, this is only the beginning, as each successive generation is exposed to the hypnotic influence of screens from an ever earlier age and for increasingly prolonged periods. And if the pre-school years are filled with tablets, we may reasonably assume that adolescence will, in a significant number of cases, come to be filled with tablets of a different kind—in other words, medication—required to sustain the acquired habit of constantly seeking heightened stimulation.
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I fully agree with those experts who argue that we are facing a large-scale wave of drug addiction fueled by exposure to new media during the earliest years of childhood. I therefore believe that an open war must be declared on screenocracy: without hesitation, compromise, or retreat. This is not a call for the physical destruction of screens—the text should not be misconstrued as advocating neo-Luddism (after all, the article you are reading is itself being written in front of a computer monitor, so to call simply for the rejection of screens would be profoundly hypocritical). Rather, it calls for something else: the deliberate, systematic, conceptually coherent, and unwavering effort to expel the influence of screens from the inner spaces of our being. In this defensive war, the primary objective is to protect children, while the main body of the army consists of parents.
One question, however, remains: how can this “army” be mobilized? Although most parents are, to some extent, aware of the scale of the problem, in practice they often prove unwilling to make a significant effort to protect their children. They may readily acknowledge that these warnings are well founded, yet, through force of habit, they continue to surrender their children as a kind of technological “blood tax” [devshirme—hist.] in the name of convenience. The logic of comfort brazenly demands that a child be handed a spare screen so that, for example, a parent can watch a favorite television series or listen to a podcast undisturbed. The paradox—sad and no less tragic—is that most parents will not deny the dangers highlighted in this text, yet, having finished reading it, they will simply carry on as before.
But what of the minority who are willing to take action? For these courageous and conscientious individuals, the first front lies at the micro-social level: reclaiming the “territory” of the family home through the counteroffensive of cultivating good habits. If screenocracy has become entrenched through the unhealthy habits we have acquired by exposing ourselves indiscriminately to screens, then reversing its paradigm of power requires us to establish healthy habits and adhere to them consistently. As a starting point, here are a few practical suggestions:
1. designate family situations in which screens are switched off, put out of sight, or—preferably—both (for example, shared meals, private conversations, and play);
2. establish periods during which there are no screens switched on anywhere in the house (especially in the evening);
3. determine what kinds of content may—and may not—appear on screens (that is, adopt a policy of zero tolerance towards tabloid media, reality television, and mass-media vulgarity in any form);
4. establish a ratio between time spent in front of screens and time devoted to analogue physical activity (to begin with, let it be one-on-one);
5. make use of the mute button (particularly when unwanted advertising begins);
6. abandon the practice of leaving screens running in the background (for we should learn to appreciate the silence of the home); and
7. whenever possible, give preference to reading printed texts rather than hypertext. There are many further recommendations, but even implementing these few will produce tangible results remarkably quickly.
By acquiring new habits, we win a very important battle, but not the war against screenocracy. It is far too resilient an adversary to be defeated by a single counteroffensive. Victory requires the long-term cultivation of an ascetic way of life, the nurturing of critical awareness, and profound reflection on the nature of technology. And, God willing, this triad will be discussed in greater detail on another occasion…
This article was originally published in Politika (the Views section) on 9 January 2025 [Serbian].
