Deactivating Facebook

I deactivated my Facebook account at the end of April. For a long time, I contemplated leaving Facebook, fully aware of its negative impact on my life and its role as a vortex of attention and time. Despite understanding its algorithms, mechanisms, and the profit-driven motives of companies like Facebook, and even cautioning others about the dangers of constant phone use and obsession with likes, I hesitated to deactivate it. Part of my reluctance stemmed from needing to manage posts on the Socratic Society page, although this consumed only a fraction of my social media time.

Reflecting on reasons to keep Facebook, I could justify its use for staying updated on campus events and connecting with friends. However, each time I logged in, my original intentions were quickly overshadowed by notifications and News Feed distractions, leading to excessive, unintentional browsing.

The decision to deactivate came from a combination of direct and indirect reasons. A friend's deactivation to avoid further contact with someone consumed her thoughts, and her subsequent withdrawal symptoms – emptiness, depression, and craving – intrigued me. My frustration with Facebook also peaked that day when a prospective classmate repeatedly ignored my friend requests.

My dissatisfaction extended to my personal profile. Since unfollowing friends the previous summer, I lost touch with what constituted a "typical" or "popular" profile. My updates were mostly academic, and my profile picture was from Professor Alice Goffman’s ethnography party. Occasionally, I felt compelled to post polished selfies to assert my sexual appeal and social media status. These posts often received rapid attention, influencing how others perceived me on Chinese social media platforms like WeChat.

Deactivating Facebook was more challenging than anticipated, requiring me to specify my reasons. In frustration, I expressed my disdain for Facebook’s exploitation of human psychology for profit. The process was laden with manipulative tactics, showing pictures of friends who would supposedly miss me. Reactivating was simple, but my determination kept me from returning.

Post-deactivation, my experience has been largely positive. My ingrained habit of opening Facebook on my laptop was a reminder of my previous dependency. I noticed an immediate increase in my attention span, enhancing my ability to engage in and enjoy challenging tasks. Writing papers became more manageable, and I experienced a state of flow more easily. This heightened focus also improved my enjoyment of figure skating and piano playing.

Another change was a newfound freedom in self-expression, unencumbered by the need to align with my online persona. This freedom extended to aspects like my clothing style.

Observing people's dependency on electronic devices in various social situations highlighted the absurdity of modern behavior. I questioned the impact of constant distractions on productivity and mental well-being. My discussions with others about technology addiction, particularly in children, further reinforced my concerns about our relationship with devices.

My generation, born in the 1990s, experienced life before the internet’s dominance. This background allowed me to appreciate the value of time spent without digital distractions and to recognize the superficiality of pleasure derived from constant stimulation. My upbringing in China, where phone use in schools was prohibited, contributed to a disciplined and focused educational environment. This contrasted starkly with the addictive nature of digital entertainment, helping me discern the difference between genuine happiness and fleeting pleasure.

Revisiting memories of boredom filled with rich imagination and productivity in a distraction-free environment solidified my understanding of the true value of attention and mental engagement. This realization, coupled with my cultural and educational experiences, enabled me to critically assess the impact of digital technology on my life.