Distractions are not a new phenomenon. While young people today may be experiencing them in novel ways through the digital world, the struggle to focus is hardly unique to the 21st century. In late 19th-century Britain, the sheer volume of postal deliveries – up to twelve a day in London – created a level of distraction comparable to today’s digital deluge. Archives reveal a rapid-fire exchange of letters, detailing plans made and broken within a single day, showcasing a level of constant communication that belies our assumptions about the pre-digital era. The notion of a less distracted past is a misconception; historical letters, often filled with ink blots and frantic pen strokes, testify to the busy lives of even those considered leisured.
The current concern surrounding the “cognitive crisis” of the digital age, and the anxieties felt for younger generations, are certainly valid. This very concern prompted the founding of the Centre for Attention Studies. Rose Horowitch’s article in *The Atlantic*, highlighting college students struggling to focus on even a sonnet, underscores these anxieties. The shift in many US schools towards shorter texts for easier testing reflects a prioritization of readily assessed skills over sustained engagement with complex material.
However, placing our current anxieties within a broader historical context reveals a recurring narrative of declining attention spans. The belief in a golden age of unwavering focus is challenged by evidence from previous eras. The 18th-century symphony, for instance, wasn’t designed for the rapt attention we often associate with classical music today. Similarly, medieval monks, lacking smartphones, still grappled with the “demon of distraction,” Titivillus. Even in the early 20th century, Ezra Pound linked the shift from poetry to prose to a reader’s diminished capacity for sustained attention.
Jonathan Bate’s concerns about university students struggling with long-form novels highlight potential consequences: weakened concentration, impaired critical thinking, and negative impacts on mental well-being. While Bate laments the decline in students’ ability to read multiple Dickens novels in a week, it’s worth noting the sheer volume of text involved—a feat requiring considerable time, even for a cursory reading, leaving little room for in-depth analysis or enjoyment.
Horowitch’s analysis offers a more nuanced perspective, suggesting a shift in consumption habits rather than a universal decline in reading ability. Students may not reject long-form texts entirely, but may choose other forms of media, mirroring the rise in audiobook popularity. This suggests a change in priorities rather than a deficit in attention. Perhaps what we perceive as an attention crisis is, in part, a generational shift in preferences, with the 19th-century novel potentially becoming as arduous for some younger readers as the 18th-century novel was for previous generations.
This doesn’t imply complacency. Understanding the implications of our shifting attention economies is crucial, particularly regarding the distribution of benefits and losses. The emphasis on information-processing skills in education raises questions about potential trade-offs with empathy and the ability to connect with diverse perspectives through imaginative literature.
Fundamentally, we need to reassess our understanding of attention itself. “Unifocal attention,” while important, isn’t the only mode of attention, as demonstrated by experiments like the “Invisible Gorilla Experiment.” A more diffuse focus can offer different cognitive benefits. Perhaps younger generations are developing new forms of attention, such as those required for rapid messaging, concise social media communication, or the complex engagement with video games, which might offer advantages we are yet to fully appreciate.
While acknowledging very real problems within contemporary attention economies, it’s crucial to approach the issue with a historical perspective and openness to new possibilities. History can illuminate ways to adapt the presentation and engagement with long-form culture. Furthermore, it’s vital to consider the potential of emergent attention practices that might contribute to individual and societal well-being.