Despite having a (small) hand in developing the attention economy—where people became the product—I’ve come to a stark realization: screens are better used as tools. Endless attention to them doesn’t just end badly; it chips away at who we are.
During the dot-com era, I hosted a PBS TV show. We were trying to grab attention in an increasingly noisy world, though “mastering” that art on PBS might be a stretch. Fast forward to today, and I see how the systems we helped build turned into something we couldn’t entirely control. What started as a way to connect, inform, and entertain has evolved into a relentless pursuit of attention, with screens and algorithms demanding more from us than we realize.
The allure of the dopamine loop—those likes, notifications, and endless scrolls—is seductive. But while it offers fleeting satisfaction, it never addresses the deeper restlessness within. The result? A culture that avoids stillness and trades reflection for distraction.
I’ve fallen into this trap myself. Phones buzzing, apps beckoning, the constant pull to engage—it’s a battle I fight daily. But over time, I’ve learned that attention isn’t just a commodity to be spent; it’s a resource to protect. Screens, for all their power, are tools—not replacements for life’s real moments.
I’ve found stillness in places far removed from the glare of a screen. Swimming in the sea, painting, tossing a ball with my kids, gardening, cooking, writing historical fiction, or simply sitting quietly—all of these activities remind me of what’s truly valuable. They center me, fuel my creativity, and make me better at running a media startup by forcing me to focus on what matters.
The truth is, screens are part of our lives. They’re not going anywhere. But the way we use them is entirely up to us. We can choose to let them dominate our attention or reclaim our focus by treating them as tools instead of traps.
Stillness isn’t easy to find in a world that thrives on distraction. It takes effort to resist the pull of the digital, to sit quietly with ourselves, and to remember that life happens beyond the screen. But in those moments, we can rediscover the clarity and peace that the attention economy tries to take from us.
In the end, our greatest battle isn’t with screens—it’s with how we choose to live.