The Dopamine Happy Hour

During my 40 years as a practicing psychologist, I saw scores of patients with attention deficit disorder. For them, paying attention is like trying to snatch a firefly when dozens are intermittently lighting up—good luck staying focused on the right one. With several family members afflicted with the “curse,” it was more than an academic interest for me.

Poor attention span isn’t confined to people with an A.D.D. diagnosis; it’s an American way of life. Watching people constantly swiping their cellphones, it seems that video distraction can trump real life. The time frames are contracting as well—anything requiring over 15 seconds taxes our limits. Need companionship?  AI can be a real obsequious companion, and you don’t even have to listen or pretend to be interested when it’s her turn to talk, because she doesn’t get a turn. 

Where we once had to handwrite a letter, email saved the stamp. But now, we have time only for brief texts or, better yet, mere emojis. In my youth, a regular trip to the cinema provided visual entertainment, but who has two hours to wait for a story to develop when Instagram and TikTok can change snippets four times a minute?  Bonus: no complicated plot to remember. 

Music historian Ted Gioia argues that the Big Tech Svengalis have essentially slipped cocaine into the water system. A quick dance-challenge video triggers a dopamine rush and a desire for more. No problem. Hundreds of other amazing dance videos stand waiting for your next click, and a pleasure ride soon becomes an addictive necessity. You don’t even have to seek out the drug; your pusher (algorithm) learns exactly what spins your wheel and delivers it instantly.

I notice how “helpful” these algorithms are in both my Firefox and Edge internet browsers. A curious search for the meaning of the recent Wordle answer, “kefir,” triggered scores of arguments for probiotics, recipes for smoothies, and schemes to overwhelm its fermented taste—so I’m not reminded that I’m eating healthily. I can’t find a way to tell the browser to save its energy because I really don’t give a fig about kefir.

Inundation with cow’s milk click bait is benign, but what if you click on a news story about your favorite politician’s success?  Soon, your browser becomes his campaign manager. Even if you merely read the glowing titles, you’ll become convinced that he is not only effective, but honest—highly dubious for any politician. Yet, many political zealots love their dopamine surges when bellying up to the bar in their echo chambers.

When considering these quickie distractions, I’m clearly an outlier. I cotton to history, science, and rational arguments—including those that question my assumptions. A headline confirming what I already know won’t get a second look. The closest I get to a quickie for anything important is poring over articles in the newspaper, most of which are at least five-minutes reads. While I don’t always embark on books as long as Anna Karenina, I typically enjoy them when I do. (Though honestly, Tolstoy could have put Levin’s farming philosophy out to pasture much earlier without losing a thing.)

Of course, I’m not immune to short distractions; I just don’t swipe or click interminably. I’m usually looking for any excuse to exit the platform—maybe I’m hard to please or just picky. Mirroring my lifelong avoidance of habit-forming drugs, I don’t linger in the TikTok neighborhood for fear of becoming a junkie, or worse yet, enjoying the fatuous content. Horrors!

I worry deeply about dopamine addiction among our children, who inhabit a world intolerant of even the slightest delay of gratification. My granddaughters will gladly let YouTube select their next silly monkey video, but they don’t yet have cellphones able to deliver the drugs in seconds. Surely, if they are offered the thrilling amusement park of a great novel, they won’t settle for the backyard swing of cat videos, or the simple slide of doggy ditties. These prospects drive me to distraction! 

Serendipitously, while penning this essay, a New York Times article by Paula Span alerted me to an unexpected finding. Two Texas neuropsychologists wanted to see how technology was affecting those of us who once dialed up America OnLine—to a symphony of beeps, screeches, and static—hoping to hear, “You’ve got mail.”  They found that our digital dalliance is a healthy habit. This is like your dentist suggesting that you should eat more candy, right?  

Jared Benge (U.T.) and Michael Scullin (Baylor) conducted a meta-analysis on studies of digital technology use by oldsters. They crunched the numbers of 57 studies with a total of more than 400,000 participants who were over 50-years-old (average age, 69). Daily use of  computers, smartphones, and/or the internet actually reduced the risk of cognitive impairment and dementia for my digital pioneering generation. Sorry, old fogey technophobes.

There is little question that long hours of screen time for children and adolescents are detrimental in oh, so many ways. Round up the usual suspects: lousy grades, mood swings, vanishing attention spans, and a budding career in screen dependency for these digital natives.  The dentist will never give children the green light to raid the candy dish.

For those of us who grew up on black and white television, addiction is rarer. It may be that grappling with technological complexity is a productive challenge. Even though we curse the most recent software update, we still have to master it, and persisting is a potent mental challenge. Like assembling a jigsaw puzzle or solving an acrostic, studies have long shown the cognitive benefits of these head-scratchers for seniors.

There are other considerations for this favorable correlation. Is it chicken or egg?  Might it be that the more educated and wealthy pensioners—who already enjoy better health and longevity—are more likely to own smartphones and laptops?  Perhaps the calendars, alarms, and other prompts on the pocket wizards compensate for memory loss. Or, maybe the social media platforms enhance relationships when mobility slows. And the researchers caution that just because you get a monthly Social Security check, it doesn’t mean that you can’t overdo it. 

Whatever the reasons for these brain benefits, I speak for seniors everywhere when I gratefully accept them. No matter your age, don’t let your smartphone (or Siri) get the last word. Take a moment to eyeball your own screen habits. Challenge yourself to put the phone down during dinner, swap a scroll for a stroll, or call a friend instead of texting an emoji. Are you the boss of your devices, or are they quietly running the show? If you’re not sure, ask your spouse or a grandchild—they’ll be happy to tell you.

We’re all drinking from the digital bar. The minors should be served Shirley Temples and closely monitored. Adults better pace themselves.  And we seniors—well, we’ll show you how to nurse a cocktail without blacking out.