15 Notes on the Sickness of Modernity
Nothing New Under the Sun (But Plenty on the Feed)
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way— in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
—Charles Dickens
The most ignorant of humanity know by the very look of earth that they have forgotten heaven.
—G.K. Chesterton
Above: From ponds to pixels, the reflection is just as deadly.
The crisis of modernity is that we no longer grow up, we just grow old. We accumulate years without wisdom, age without insight, and experience without growth.
We would rather entertain warm, comfortable delusion than confront cold, hard truth; gazing into black mirrors that filter appearances and shunning glass ones that reveal reality.
In a world run by semiconductors, the body withers and the soul stunts. We’ve learned how to make machines faster, smaller, smarter at the expense of our slow, shallow, and foolish souls.
Modernity gives us every luxury except the ones we long for most. “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity…the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.”
We’ve become obedient to algorithms. The feed curates, the playlist decides, the GPS tells us to turn left. We’ve mistaken autopilot for life.
We confuse education with entertainment, sermons with podcasts, influencers with prophets, and content with truth.
Therapy has become a new theology that asks all the questions but provides none of the answers.
The triumph of convenience is a Pyrrhic victory: we’ve gained everything easy, and lost everything worth fighting for.
Every advancement creates its own shackles. We accelerate around the track while dodging snares of our own making.
The Midas touch of modernity provides treasures that corrode the hand and tarnish the soul. Our gold is gilded and our riches counterfeit.
Science can split the atom, but still can’t put a broken heart back together.
We’ve become masters of transaction and amateurs of connection. Dialogue is now just dueling monologues.
Sisyphus has it easy; at least his labor has a purpose. We drag our rocks with no mountain in sight.
Anhedonia is the new anxiety; ennui is the new enthusiasm; and boredom the drumbeat of our days.
When our best friends have circuits instead of circulatory systems, we shouldn’t be surprised when we get shocked.
We scroll through vanities, convinced they are virtues, forgetting heaven by the very glow of our screens.
Per my about page, White Noise is a work of experimentation. I view it as a sort of thinking aloud, a stress testing of my nascent ideas. Through it, I hope to sharpen my opinions against the whetstone of other people’s feedback, commentary, and input.
If you want to discuss any of the ideas or musings mentioned above or have any books, papers, or links that you think would be interesting to share on a future edition of White Noise, please reach out to me by replying to this email or following me on Twitter X.
With sincere gratitude,
Tom