Connected Technologies are Leaving Our Seniors Behind

One of my pandemic projects has been editing a video series of oral history interviews we did with local seniors in my community. Last week, I finished the first video in the series. The original plan, pre-pandemic, was to unveil the video as a special event at a local theater, with the participants attending. Obviously, given our current reality, we had to change our plans.

We, like the rest of the world, moved our event online. As I started working through the logistics of this, I quickly realized something: Our seniors are on the other side of a wide and rapidly growing chasm. Yes, our society is digitally connected in ways we never were before, but those connections are not designed for the elderly. In fact, if you were looking for something that seems to be deliberately designed to disadvantage a segment of our population, it would be hard to find a better example than Internet connection and the elderly.

I have to admit, for much of the past year, I have been pretty focused on what I have sacrificed because of the pandemic. But I am still a pretty connected person. I can Zoom and have a virtual visit with my friends. If I wonder how my daughters are doing, I can instantly text them. If I miss their faces, I can FaceTime them. 

I have taken on the projects I’ve been able to do thanks to the privilege of being wired into the virtual world.   I can even go on a virtual bike ride with my friends through the streets of London, courtesy of Zwift.

Yes, I have given up things, but I have also been able find digital substitutes for many of those things. I’m not going to say it’s been perfect, but it’s certainly been passable.

My stepdad, who is turning 86, has been able to do none of those things. He is in a long-term care home in Alberta, Canada. His only daily social connections consist of brief interactions with staff during mealtime and when they check his blood sugar levels and give him his medication. All the activities that used to give him a chance to socialize are gone. Imagine life for him, where his sum total of connection is probably less than 30 minutes a day. And, on most days, none of that connecting is done with the people he loves.

Up until last week, family couldn’t even visit him. He was locked down due to an outbreak at his home. For my dad, there were no virtual substitutes available. He is not wired in any way for digital connection. If anyone has paid the social price of this pandemic, it’s been my dad and people like the seniors I interviewed, for whom I was desperately trying to find a way for them just to watch a 13-minute video that they had starred in.

A recent study by mobile technology manufacturer Ericsson looked specifically at the relationship between technology and seniors during the pandemic. The study focused on what the company termed the “young-old” seniors, those aged 65-74. They didn’t deal with “middle-old” (aged 75-85) or “oldest-old” (86 plus) because — well, probably because Ericsson couldn’t find enough who were connected to act as a representative sample.

But they did find that even the “young old” were falling behind in their ability to stay connected thanks to COVID-19. These are people who have owned smartphones for at least a decade, many of whom had to use computers and technology in their jobs. Up until a year ago, they were closing the technology gap with younger generations. Then, last March, they started to fall behind.

They were still using the internet, but younger people were using it even more. And, as they got older, they were finding it increasingly daunting to adopt new platforms and technology. They didn’t have the same access to “family tech support” of children or grandchildren to help get them over the learning curve. They were sticking to the things they knew how to do as the rest of the world surged forward and started living their lives in a digital landscape.

But this was not the group that was part of my video project. My experience had been with the “middle old” and “oldest old.” Half fell into the “middle old” group and half fell into the “oldest old” group. Of the eight seniors I was dealing with, only two had emails. If the “young old” are being left behind by technology, these people were never in the race to begin with. As the world was forced to reset to an online reality, these people were never given the option. They were stranded in a world suddenly disconnected from everything they knew and loved.

Predictably, the Ericsson study proposes smartphones as the solution for many of the problems of the pandemic, giving seniors more connection, more confidence and more capabilities. If only they got connected, the study says, life will be better.

But that’s not a solution with legs. It won’t go the distance. And to understand why, we just have to look at the two age cohorts the study didn’t focus on, the “middle old” and the “oldest old.”

Perhaps the hardest hit have been the “oldest old,” who have sacrificed both physical and digital connection, as this Journals of Gerontologyarticle notes.   Four from my group lived in long-term care facilities. Many of these were locked down at some point due to local outbreaks within the facility. Suddenly, that family support they required to connect with their family and friends was no longer available. The technological tools  that we take for granted — which we were able to slot in to take the place of things we were losing — were unimaginable to them. They were literally sentenced to solitary confinement.

A recent study from Germany found that only 3% of those living in long-term care facilities used an internet-connected device. A lot of the time, cognitive declines, even when they’re mild, can make trying to use technology an exercise in frustration.

When my dad went into his long-term care home, my sister and I gave him one of our old phones so he could stay connected. We set everything up and did receive a few experimental texts from him. But soon, it just became too confusing and frustrating for him to use without our constant help. He played solitaire on it for a while, then it ended up in a drawer somewhere. We didn’t push the issue. It just wasn’t the right fit.

But it’s not just my dad who struggled with technology. Even if an aging population starts out as reasonably proficient users, it can be overwhelming to keep up with new hardware, new operating systems and new security requirements. I’m not even “young old” yet, and I’ve worked with technology all my life. I owned a digital marketing company, for heaven’s sake. And even for me, it sometimes seems like a full-time job staying on top of the constant stream of updates and new things to learn and troubleshoot. As connected technology leaps forward, it does not seem unduly concerned that it’s leaving the most vulnerable segment of our population behind.

COVID-19 has pushed us into a virtual world where connection is not just a luxury, but a condition of survival. We need to connect to live. That is especially true for our seniors, who have had all the connections they relied on taken from them. We can’t leave them behind. Connected technology can no longer ignore them.

This is one gap we need to build a bridge over.

The Academics of Bullsh*t

“One of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit. Everyone knows this. Each of us contributes his share. But we tend to take the situation for granted.”—

from On Bullshit,” an essay by philosopher Henry Frankfurt.

Would it surprise you to know that I have found not one, but two academic studies on organizational bullshit? And I mean that non-euphemistically. The word “bullshit” is actually in the title of both studies. I B.S. you not.

In fact, organizational bullshit has become a legitimate field of study. Academics are being paid to dig into it — so to speak. There are likely bullshit grants, bullshit labs, bullshit theories, bullshit paradigms and bullshit courses. There are definitely bullshit professors.  There is even an OBPS — the Organization Bullshit Perception Scale — a way to academically measure bullshit in a company.

Many years ago, when I was in the twilight of my time with the search agency I had founded, I had had enough of the bullshit I was being buried under, shoveled there by the company that had acquired us. I was drowning in it. So I vented right here, on MediaPost. I dared you to imagine what it would be like to actually do business without bullshit getting in the way.

My words fell on deaf ears. Bullshit has proliferated since that time. It has been enshrined up and down our social, business and governmental hierarchies, becoming part of our “new” organizational normal. It has picked up new labels, like “fake news” and “alternate facts.” It has proven more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. And it is this dangerous because we are ignoring it, which is legitimizing it.

Henry Frankfurt defined the concept and set it apart from lying. Liars know the truth and are trying to hide it. Bullshitters don’t care if what they say is true or false. They only care if their listener is persuaded. That’s as good a working definition of the last four years as any I’ve heard.

But at least one study indicates bullshit may have a social modality — acceptable in some contexts, but corrosive in others. Marketing, for example, is highlighted by the authors as an industry built on a foundation of bullshit:

“advertising and public relations agencies and consultants are likely to be ‘full of It,’ and in some cases even make the production of bullshit an important pillar of their business.”

In these studies, researchers speculate that bullshit might actually serve a purpose in organizations. It may allow for strategic motivation before there is an actual strategy in place. This brand of bullshit is otherwise known as “blue-sky thinking” or “out-of-the-box thinking.”

But if this is true, there is a very narrow window indeed where this type of bullshit could be considered beneficial. The minute there are facts to deal with, they should be dealt with. But the problem is that the facts never quite measure up to the vision of the bullshit. Once you open the door to allowing bullshit, it becomes self-perpetuating.

I grew up in the country. I know how hard it is to get rid of bullshit.

The previous example is what I would call strategic bullshit — a way to “grease the wheels” and get the corporate machine moving. But it often leads directly to operational bullshit — which is toxic to an organization, serving to “gum up the gears” and prevent anything real and meaningful from happening. This was the type of bullshit that was burying me back in 2013 when I wrote that first column. It’s also the type of bullshit that is paralyzing us today.

According to the academic research into bullshit, when we’re faced with it, we have four ways to respond: exit, voice, loyalty or neglect. Exit means we try to escape from the bullshit. Loyalty means we wallow in it, spreading it wider and thicker. Neglect means we just ignore it. And Voice means we stand up to the bullshit and confront it.  I’m guessing you’ve already found yourself in one of those four categories.

Here’s the thing. As marketers and communicators, we have to face the cold, ugly truth of our ongoing relationship with bullshit. We all have to deal with it. It’s the nature of our industry.

But how do we deal with it? Most times, in most situations, it’s just easier to escape or ignore it. Sometimes it may serve our purpose to jump on the bullshit bandwagon and spread it. But given the overwhelming evidence of where bullshit has led us in the recent past, we all should be finding our voice to call bullshit on bullshit.

Missing the Mundane

I realize something: I miss the mundane.

Somewhere along the line, mundanity got a bad rap. It became a synonym for boring. But it actually means worldly. It refers to the things you experience when you’re out in the world.

And I miss that — a lot.

There is a lot of stuff that happens when we’re living our lives that we don’t give enough credit to: Petting a dog being taken for a walk. A little flirting with another human we find attractive. Doing some people-watching while we eat our bagel in a mall’s food court. Random situational humor that plays itself out on the sidewalk in front of us. Discovering that the person cutting your hair is also a Monty Python fan. Snippets of conversation — either ones we’re participating in, or ones we overhear while we wait for the bus. Running into an old acquaintance. Even being able to smile at a stranger and have them smile back at you.

The mundane is built of all those hundreds of little, inconsequential social exchanges that happen daily in a normal world that we ordinarily wouldn’t give a second thought to.

And sometimes, serendipitously, we luck upon the holy grail of mundanity — that random “thing” that makes our day.

These are the things we live for. And now, almost all of these things have been stripped from our lives.

I didn’t realize I missed them because I never assigned any importance to them. If I did a signal-to-noise ratio analysis of my life, all these things would fall in the latter category. Most of the time, I wasn’t even fully aware that they were occurring. But I now realize when you add them all up, they’re actually a big part of what I’m missing the most. And I’ve realized that because I’ve been forced to subtract them — one by one — from my life.

I have found that the mundane isn’t boring. It’s the opposite — the seasoning that adds a little flavor to my day-to-day existence.

For the past 10 months, I thought the problem was that I was missing the big things: travel, visiting loved ones, big social gatherings. And I do miss those things. But those things are the tentpoles – the infrequent, yet consequential things that we tend to hang our happiness on. We failed to realize that in between those tentpoles, there is also the fabric of everyday life that has also been eliminated.

It’s not just that we don’t have them. It’s also that we’ve tried to substitute other things for them. And those other things may be making it worse. Things like social media and way too much time spent looking at the news. Bingeing on Netflix. Forcing ourselves into awkward online Zoom encounters just because it seems like the thing to do. A suddenly developed desire to learn Portuguese, or how to bake sourdough bread.

It’s not that all these things are bad. It’s just that they’re different from what we used to consider normal — and by doing them, it reinforces the gap that lies between then and now. They add to that gnawing discontent we have with our new forced coping mechanisms.

The mundane has always leavened our lives. But now, we’ve swapped the living of our lives for being entertained — and whether it’s the news or the new show we’re bingeing, entertainment has to be overplayed. It is nothing but peaks and valleys, with no middle ground. When we actually do the living, rather than the watching, we spend the vast majority of our time in that middle ground — the mundane, which is our emotional reprieve.

I’ve also noticed my social muscles have atrophied over the past several months due to lack of exercise. It’s been ages since I’ve had to make small talk. Every encounter now — as infrequent as they are — seems awkward. Either I’m overeager, like a puppy that’s been left alone in a house all day, or I’m just not in any mood to palaver.  

Finally, it’s these everyday mundane encounters that used to give me anecdotal evidence that not all people were awful. Every day I used to see examples of small kindnesses, unexpected generosity and just plain common courtesy. Yes, there were also counterpoints to all of these, but it almost always netted out to the good. It used to reaffirm my faith in people on a daily basis.

With that source of reaffirmation gone, I have to rely on the news and social media. And — given what those two things are — I know I will only see the extremes of human nature. It’s my “angel and asshole” theory : That we all lie on a bell curve somewhere between the two, and our current situation will push us from the center closer to those two extremes. You also know that the news and social media are going to be biased towards the “asshole” end of the spectrum.

There’s a lot to be said for the mundane — and I have. So I’ll just wrap up with my hope that my life — and yours — will become a little more mundane in the not-too-distant future.

Happy New Year?

“Speaking of the happy new year, I wonder if any year ever had less chance of being happy. It’s as though the whole race were indulging in a kind of species introversion — as though we looked inward on our neuroses. And the thing we see isn’t very pretty… So we go into this happy new year, knowing that our species has learned nothing, can, as a race, learn nothing — that the experience of ten thousand years has made no impression on the instincts of the million years that preceded.”

That sentiment, relevant as it is to today, was not written about 2021. It was actually written 80 years ago — in 1941 — by none other than John Steinbeck.

John was feeling a little down. I’m sure we can all relate.

It’s pretty easy to say that we have hopefully put the worst year ever behind us. I don’t know about your news feed, but mine has been like a never-ending bus tour of Dante’s 7 Circles of Hell — and I’m sitting next to the life insurance salesman from Des Moines who decided to have a Caesar salad for lunch.

An online essay by Umair Haque kind of summed up 2020 for me: “The Year of the Idiot.” In it, Haque doesn’t pull any punches,

“It was the year that a pandemic searched the ocean of human stupidity, and found, to its gleeful delight, that it appeared to be bottomless. 2020 was the year that idiots wrecked our societies.”

In case you’re not catching the drift yet, Haque goes on to say, “The average person is a massive, gigantic, malicious, selfish idiot.”

Yeah. That pretty much covers it.

Or does it? Were our societies wrecked? Is the average person truly that shitty? Is the world a vast, soul sucking, rotten-cabbage-reeking dumpster fire? Or is it just the lens we’re looking through?

If you search hard enough, you can find those who are looking through a different lens — one that happens to be backed by statistical evidence rather than what bubbles to the top of our newsfeed. One of those people is Ola Rosling. He’s carrying on the mission of his late father, Hans Rosling, who was working on the book “Factfulness” when he passed away in 2017. Bill Gates called it “one of the most educational books I’ve ever read.” And Bill reads a lot of books!

Believe it or not, if you remove a global pandemic from the equation (which, admittedly, is a whole new scale of awful) the world may actually be in better shape than it was 12 months ago. And even if you throw the pandemic into the mix, there are some glimmers of silver peeking through the clouds.

Here are some things you may have missed in your news feed:

Wild polio was eradicated from Africa. That’s big news. It’s a massive achievement that had its to-do box ticked last August. And I’m betting you never heard about it.

Also, the medical and scientific world has never before mobilized and worked together on a project like the new COVID mRNA vaccines now rolling out. Again, this is a huge step forward that will have far reaching impacts on healthcare in the future. But that’s not what the news is talking about.

Here’s another thing. At long last, it looks like the world may finally be ready to start tearing apart the layers that hide systemic racism. What we’re learning is that it may not be the idiots  — and, granted, there are many, many idiots — who are the biggest problem. It may be people like me, who have unknowingly perpetuated the system and are finally beginning to see the endemic bias baked into our culture.

These are just three big steps forward that happened in 2020. There are others. We just aren’t talking about them.

We always look on the dark side. We’re a “glass half-empty” species. That’s what Rosling’s book is about: our tendency to skip over the facts to rush to the worst possible view of things. We need no help in that regard — but we get it anyway from the news business, which, run by humans and aimed at humans, amplifies our proclivity for pessimism.

I’m as glad as anyone to see 2020 in my rear-view mirror. But I am carrying something of that year forward with me: a resolution to spend more time looking for facts and relying less on media “spun” for profit to understand the state of the world.

As we consume media, we have to remember that good news is just not as profitable as bad news. We need to broaden our view to find the facts. Hans Rosling warned us, “Forming your worldview by relying on the media would be like forming your view about me by looking only at a picture of my foot.”

Yes, 2020 was bad, but it was also good. And because there are forces that swing the pendulum both ways, many of the things that were good may not have happened without the bad. In the same letter in which Steinbeck expressed his pessimism about 1941, he went on to say this:

“Not that I have lost any hope. All the goodness and the heroisms will rise up again, then be cut down again and rise up. It isn’t that the evil thing wins — it never will — but that it doesn’t die. I don’t know why we should expect it to. It seems fairly obvious that two sides of a mirror are required before one has a mirror, that two forces are necessary in man before he is man.”

There are two sides to every story, even when it’s a horror story like 2020.

Have More People Become More Awful?

Is it just me, or do people seem a little more awful lately? There seems to be a little more ignorance in the world, a little less compassion, a little more bullying and a lot less courtesy.

Maybe it’s just me.

It’s been a while since I’ve checked in with eternal optimist Steven Pinker.  The Harvard psychologist is probably the best-known proponent of the argument that the world is consistently trending towards being a better place.  According to Pinker, we are less bigoted, less homophobic, less misogynist and less violent. At least, that’s what he felt pre-COVID lockdown. As I said, I haven’t checked in with him lately, but I suspect he would say the long-term trends haven’t appreciably changed. Maybe we’re just going through a blip.

Why, then, does the world seem to be going to hell in a hand cart?  Why do people — at least some people — seem so awful?

I think it’s important to remember that our brain likes to play tricks on us. It’s in a never-ending quest to connect cause and effect. Sometimes, to do so, the brain jumps to conclusions. Unfortunately, it is aided in this unfortunate tendency by a couple of accomplices — namely news reporting and social media. Even if the world isn’t getting shittier, it certainly seems to be. 

Let me give you one example. In my local town, an anti-masking rally was recently held at a nearby shopping mall. Local news outlets jumped on it, with pictures and video of non-masked, non-socially distanced protesters carrying signs and chanting about our decline into Communism and how their rights were being violated.

What a bunch of boneheads — right? That was certainly the consensus in my social media circle. How could people care so little about the health and safety of their community? Why are they so awful?

But when you take the time to unpack this a bit, you realize that everyone is probably overplaying their hands. I don’t have exact numbers, but I don’t think there were more than 30 or 40 protestors at the rally. The population of my city is about 150,000. These protestors represented .03% of the total population. 

Let’s say for every person at the rally, there were 10 that felt the same way but weren’t there. That’s still less than 1%. Even if you multiplied the number of protesters by 100, it would still be just 3% of my community. We’re still talking about a tiny fraction of all the people who live in my city. 

But both the news media and my social media feed have ensured that these people are highly visible. And because they are, our brain likes to use that small and very visible sample and extrapolate it to the world in general. It’s called availability bias, a cognitive shortcut where the brain uses whatever’s easy to grab to create our understanding of the world.

But availability bias is nothing new. Our brains have always done this. So, what’s different about now?

Here, we have to understand that the current reality may be leading us into another “mind-trap.” A 2018 study from Harvard introduced something called “prevalence-induced concept change,” which gives us a better understanding of how the brain focuses on signals in a field of noise. 

Basically, when signals of bad things become less common, the brain works harder to find them. We expand our definition of what is “bad” to include more examples so we can feel more successful in finding them.

I’m probably stretching beyond the limits of the original study here, but could this same thing be happening now? Are we all super-attuned to any hint of what we see as antisocial behavior so we can jump on it? 

If this is the case, again social media is largely to blame. It’s another example of our current toxic mix of dog whistlecancel culturevirtue signaling, pseudo-reality that is being driven by social media. 

That’s two possible things that are happening. But if we add one more, it becomes a perfect storm of perceived awfulness. 

In a normal world, we all have different definitions of the ethical signals we’re paying attention to. What you are focused on right now in your balancing of what is right and wrong is probably different from what I’m currently focused on. I may be thinking about gun control while you’re thinking about reducing your carbon footprint.

But now, we’re all thinking about the same thing: surviving a pandemic. And this isn’t just some theoretical mind exercise. This is something that surrounds us, affecting us every single day. When it comes to this topic, our nerves have been rubbed raw and our patience has run out. 

Worst of all, we feel helpless. There seems to be nothing we can do to edge the world toward being a less awful place. Behaviors that in another reality and on another topic would have never crossed our radar now have us enraged. And, when we’re enraged, we do the one thing we can do: We share our rage on social media. Unfortunately, by doing so, we’re not part of the solution. We are just pouring fuel on the fire.

Yes, some people probably are awful. But are they more awful than they were this time last year? I don’t think so. I also can’t believe that the essential moral balance of our society has collectively nosedived in the last several months. 

What I do believe is that we are living in a time where we’re facing new challenges in how we perceive the world. Now, more than ever before, we’re on the lookout for what we believe to be awful. And if we’re looking for it, we’re sure to find it.

Why Technology May Not Save Us

We are a clever race. We’re not as smart as we think we are, but we are pretty damn smart. We are the only race who has managed to forcibly shift the eternal cycles of nature for our own benefit. We have bent the world to our will. And look how that’s turning out for us.

For the last 10,000 years our cleverness has set us apart from all other species on earth. For the last 1000 years, the pace of that cleverness has accelerated. In the last 100 years, it has been advancing at breakneck speed. Our tools and ingenuity have dramatically reshaped our lives. our everyday is full of stuff we couldn’t imagine just a few short decades ago.

That’s a trend that’s hard to ignore. And because of that, we could be excused for thinking the same may be true going forward. When it comes to thinking about technology, we tend to do so from a glass half full perspective. It’s worked for us in the past. It will work for us in the future. There is no problem too big that our own technological prowess cannot solve.

But maybe it won’t. Maybe – just maybe – we’re dealing with another type of problem now to which technology is not well suited as a solution. And here are 3 reasons why.

The Unintended Consequences Problem

Technology solutions focus on the proximate rather than the distal – which is a fancy way of saying that technology always deals with the task at hand. Being technology, these solutions usually come from an engineer’s perspective, and engineers don’t do well with nuance. Complicated they can deal with. Complexity is another matter.

I wrote about this before when I wondered why tech companies tend to be confused by ethics. It’s because ethics falls into a category of problems known as a wicked problem. Racial injustice is another wicked problem. So is climate change. All of these things are complex and messy. Their dependence on collective human behavior makes them so. Engineers don’t like wicked problems, because they are by definition concretely non-solvable. They are also hotbeds of unintended consequences.

In Collapse, anthropologist Jared Diamond’s 2005 exploration of failed societies, past and present, Diamond notes that when we look forward, we tend to cling to technology as a way to dodge impending doom. But he notes, “underlying this expression of faith is the implicit assumption that, from tomorrow onwards, technology will function primarily to solve existing problems and will cease to create new problems.”

And there’s the rub. For every proximate solution it provides, technology has a nasty habit of unleashing scads of unintended new problems. Internal combustion engines, mechanized agriculture and social media come to mind immediately as just three examples. The more complex the context of the problem, the more likely it is that the solution will come with unintended consequences.

The 90 Day Problem

Going hand in hand with the unintended consequence problem is the 90 Day problem. This is a port-over from the corporate world, where management tends to focus on problems that can be solved in 90 days. This comes from a human desire to link cause and effect. It’s why we have to-do lists. We like to get shit done.

Some of the problems we’re dealing with now – like climate change – won’t be solved in 90 days. They won’t be solved in 90 weeks or even 90 months. Being wicked problems, they will probably never be solved completely. If we’re very, very, very lucky and we start acting immediately and with unprecedented effort, we might be seeing some significant progress in 90 years.

This is the inconvenient truth of these problems. The consequences are impacting us today but the payoff for tackling them is – even if we do it correctly – sometime far in the future, possibly beyond the horizon of our own lifetimes. We humans don’t do well with those kinds of timelines.

The Alfred E. Neuman Problem

The final problem with relying on technology is that we think of it as a silver bullet. The alternative is a huge amount of personal sacrifice and effort with no guarantee of success. So, it’s easier just to put our faith in technology and say, “What, Me Worry?” like Mad Magazine mascot Alfred E. Neuman. It’s much easier to shift the onus for us surviving our own future to some nameless, faceless geek somewhere who’s working their way towards their “Eureka” moment.

While that may be convenient and reassuring, it’s not very realistic. I believe the past few years – and certainly the past few months – have shown us that all of us have to make some very significant changes in our lives and be prepared to rethink what we thought our future might be. At the very least, it means voting for leadership committed to fixing problems rather than ignoring them in favor of the status quo.

I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t think technology is going to save our ass this time.

Hope’s Not Dead, It’s Just been Handed Down

It’s been interesting writing this column in the last 4 months. In fact, it’s been interesting writing it for the last 4 years. And I use the word “interesting” as a euphemism. It’s been many things: gut-wrenching, frustrating, maddening and head-scratching. Many times – most times – the writing of this has made me profoundly sad and despairing of our future. It has made me question my own beliefs. But yes, in a macabre sense, it has been interesting.

I call myself a humanist. I believe in the essential goodness of humans, collectively and on the average. I believe we are the agents of our own fate. I believe there are ups and downs in our stewardship of our future, but over the longer term, we will trend in the right direction.

I still am trying to believe in these things. But I have to tell you, it’s getting really hard.

I’m sure it’s not just me. Over the years, this column – Media Insider – has morphed into the most freeform of Mediapost’s columns. The rotating stable of writers, including myself, really has a carte blanche to write about whatever happens to be on our mind. That’s why I was drawn to it. I’m not actively involved in any aspect of the industry anymore, so I really can’t provide any relevant commentary on things like Search, Mobile, TV or the agency world. But I do have many opinions about many things. And this column seemed to be the best place to talk about them.

What really fascinates me is the intersection between human behavior and technology. And so, most of my columns unpack some aspect of that intersection. In the beginning, it seemed that technology was dovetailing nicely with my belief in human goodness. Then things started to go off the track. In the past four years, this derailment has accelerated. In the past four months, it’s been like watching a train wreck.

The writers of Media Insider have all done our best to chronicle what the f*ck is going on. Today I looked back at our collective work over the past 4 months. I couldn’t help thinking that it was like trying to write at the micro level about what happens when a table is upended in the middle of dinner. Yes, I can report that the pepper shaker is still next to the salt shaker. But the bigger story is that everything is skidding down the table to the abyss beyond the edge.

I suspect that where we are now can be directly traced back to the source of my naïve optimism some years ago. We were giddy about what technology could do, not just for marketing, but for everything about our world. But to use the language of COVID, we had been infected but were still asymptomatic. Inside our culture, the virus of unintended consequences was already at work, replicating itself.

My vague and clung-to hope is that this is just another downswing. And my hope comes from my kids. They are better people than I was at their age: more compassionate, more empathetic and more committed to their beliefs. They have rejected much of the cultural baggage of systemic inequality that I took for granted in my twenties. They are both determined to make a difference, each in their own way. In them, I again have hope for the future.

We love to lump people together into categories and slap labels on them. That is also true for my daughters’ generation. They are often called Generation Z.

Every generation has their angels and assholes. That is also true for Generation Z. But here’s the interesting thing about them. They’re really tough to label. Here’s an excerpt from a recent report on Generation Z from Mckinsey:

“Our study based on the survey reveals four core Gen Z behaviors, all anchored in one element: this generation’s search for truth. Gen Zers value individual expression and avoid labels. They mobilize themselves for a variety of causes. They believe profoundly in the efficacy of dialogue to solve conflicts and improve the world. Finally, they make decisions and relate to institutions in a highly analytical and pragmatic way.”

The other interesting thing about this generation is that they grew up with the technology that seems to be upending the world of every previous generation. They seem – somehow – to have developed a natural immunity to the most harmful effects of social media. Maybe my hope that technology will ultimately make us better people wasn’t wrong, it just had to skip a couple of generations.

I know it’s dangerous to lionize or demonize any group – generational or otherwise – en masse. But after watching the world go to a hell in a handbasket in the hands of those in charge for the last few years, I have no qualms about handing things over to my kids and others of their age.

And we should do it soon, while there is a still a world to hand over.

The Mother of all Mood Swings

How are you doing? 

Yes, you. 

I know how I’m doing — today, anyway. It varies day to day. It depends on the news. It depends on the weather. It depends on Trump’s Twitter stream.

Generally, I’m trying to process the abnormal with the tools I have. I don’t know precisely how you’re doing, but I suspect you’re going through your own processing with your own tools.

I do know one thing. The tools I have are pretty much the same tools you have, at least when we look at them in the broad strokes. It’s one of the surprising things about humans. We all go through some variation of the same process when we deal with life’s big events. 

Take grief and other traumatic life changes. We’re pretty predictable in how we deal with it. So predictable, in fact, that there’s a psychological model with its own acronym for it: DABDA. It’s known as the five stages of grief:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It was first introduced in 1969 by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.  

Noted American neurobiologist and author Robert Sapolsky marvels on the universality of our processing of grief in his book  “The Trouble with Testosterone”:  “Poems, paintings, symphonies by the most creative artists who ever lived, have been born out of mourning… We cry, we rage, we demand that the oceans’ waves stop, that the planets halt their movements in the sky, all because the earth will no longer be graced by the one who sang lullabies as no one else could; yet that, too, is reducible to DABDA. Why should grief be so stereotypical?”

But it’s not just bad stuff we process this way. If you look at how we process any big change, you’ll find there are pretty predictable stages we humans go through.

So why are we so predictable in how we deal with change? In general, these are all variations of the sensemaking cycle, which is how we parse the world around us. We start with a frame — an understanding of what we believe to be true — and we constantly compare this to new information we get from our environment. 

Because we are cognitively energy-efficient, we are reluctant to throw out old frames and adopt new ones, especially when those new ones are being forced upon us. It’s just the way we’re wired. 

But life change is usually a solo journey, and we rely on anchors to help us along the way. We rely on our psychoscapes, the cognitive environments in which our minds typically operate. Friends, families, favorite activities, social diversions: these are the things that we can rely on for an emotional boost, even if only temporarily.

But what if everyone is experiencing trauma at the same time? What if our normal psychoscape is no longer there? What then?

Then we enter the SNAFU zone.

SNAFU is an acronym coined in World War II:  “situation normal, all f*cked up.”  It was used to refer to a situation that is bad, but is also a normal state of affairs. 

We are talking a lot about the new normal. But here’s the thing: The new situation normal is going to be a shit show, guaranteed to be all f*cked up. And it’s going to be that way because everyone  — and I mean everyone — is going to be going through the Mother of all Mood Swings. 

First of all, although the stages of managing change may be somewhat universal, the path we take through them is anything but. Some will get stuck at the denial and anger stage and storm the state legislature with assault weapons demanding a haircut. Some are already at acceptance, trying to navigate through a world that is officially SNAFU. We are all processing the same catalyst of change, but we’re at different places in that process. 

Secondly, the psychological anchors we depend on may not be there for us. When we are going through collective stress, we tend to rely on community. We revert to our evolutionary roots of being natural herders. Without exception, the way humans have always dealt with massive waves of change is to come together with others. And this is where a pandemic that requires social distancing throws a king-sized wrench in the works. We can’t even get a hug to help us through a bad day.

As the levels of our collective stress climb, there are bound to be a lot of WTF moments. Nerves will fray and tempers will flare. We will be walking on eggshells. There will be little patience for perspectives that differ from our own. Societal divides will deepen and widen. The whole world will become moodier than a hormonal teenager. 

Finally, we have all of the above playing out in a media landscape that was already fractured to an unprecedented level going into this. All the many things that are FU in this particular SNAFU will be posted, tweeted, shared and reshared. There will be no escape from it. 

Unlike the hormonal teenager, we can’t send COVID-19 to its room.

A Lesson Learned from the Lost Generation

“I wasn’t around for Y2K. Was it like this?”

The question was posed to me by a young man named Jeremy – about 18 or 19 – who brought the online order of groceries to my car. He had just been telling me how store employees had been scrambling to stay ahead of items people were starting to hoard so they could post limits to prevent the shelves being stripped bare. On this day, it was bread. He shook his head, unable to wrap it around people’s panic. He was trying to relate it to something that could serve as a baseline.

My initial reaction to his question was to laugh. Y2K was a nothingburger. We panicked, we nervously rang in the New Year of 2000, and then we laughed sheepishly and went on with life.

This is different. On so many levels. I told that to Jeremy. “I have been around for almost 60 years. I have never experienced anything like this before.”

I’ve been thinking about that conversation a lot since. In Jeremy’s short time here on the planet, he probably has never experienced true hardship. But then, neither have I. Not really. Not like what we’re about to experience.

If you were to plot a trendline of my life over the last 6 decades, it would overwhelmingly be up and to the right. Sure, there were blips. But it’s been a pretty damned good 60 years. For me, hardship has been defined by putting off a trip because I couldn’t afford it. Or buying a used car when I wanted a new one. Poor me.

In the writing of this, I tried to find some formula to put magnitude of significance to events like this. I couldn’t find one, so I made my own:

Personal Impact X Number of People Impacted X Duration of Impact

The Pew Research Center asked Americans to rank the most significant events of their lifetimes in 2016. If we just look at those events that were negative, they were 9/11 (by a significant margin), the JFK assassination and the Vietnam War.

But now let’s attempt to quantify the magnitude of significance. When I say personal impact, I’m not talking about emotional impact. I’m talking about material impacts on my life that are directly attributable to the event.

My heart broke on 9/11, just like all of yours. That day would change my perspective on many things. But in real terms, it didn’t shift my life in any significant ways. There was tightened security when I travelled, but that was about it. This in no way minimizes the tragedy of the event. I know it was excruciatingly real for some of you reading this. I’m just putting it in perspective for myself.

This will be different. There is a shit-ton of uncertainty about what lies ahead, but I’m pretty sure all our lives are going to change significantly for the next 18 months to 2 years at least.  And it will impact everyone in the world. The vast majority of us have never been through anything like this before.  But others have. In fact, a whole generation has. Unfortunately, none of them are around to talk to. They were called the Lost Generation.

My Grandfather was part of this generation. Officially, those belonging to the Lost Generation were born between 1883 and 1900. Charles Edward Hotchkiss was born in Herefordshire, England in 1888. He died in Ontario, Canada in 1955, at the age of 67. He was just 8 years older than I am today. Given what we’re going through currently, I stopped to think about what “Charlie” experienced in his lifetime.

In 1910, he boarded the SS Lake Champlain in Liverpool and came to Canada. He was 21. Four years later, he volunteered for service in World War I. In the next 4 years, 9 million soldiers would die, 21 million would be wounded (my grandfather was one of them), 7 million would be left permanently disabled. 10 million civilians also died.

Those numbers are staggering, but an even deadlier and more significant event was just getting started in 1917. Today, we remember it as the Spanish Flu but that is a misnomer. It was called that because early reporting of the severity of the influenza pandemic was censored in wartime Europe for fear that troops would panic and desert. The only country where reporting was somewhat accurate was in neutral Spain, which led to the mistaken notion that the impact was worse there than anywhere else. By the time the epidemic subsided in 1920, somewhere between 50 and 100 million people would die. It had infected 500 million people, a quarter of the world’s population.

This was the reality newly discharged Charlie came back to when he stepped off the boat in Halifax on September 14, 1919. He was 31.

Charlie married my grandmother, Rose, in 1926. Three years later, the world slipped into the Great Depression. Half of all banks in the US failed. Unemployment spiked to 25%. International trade collapsed by 65%. Millions became homeless migrants. And it would continue like this for the next 10 years. In the middle of all this – in 1935 – Charlie and Rose had a baby. It was my father, William Francis Hotchkiss.

When my dad was just 4, World War II started. My grandfather, who was 50, was too old to actively serve but the impact of the war was still immense on Rose, William and Charlie. Over the next 6 years, 100 million people would be directly impacted from more than 30 countries. It is estimated 20 million military personnel and 40 million civilians would die in those 6 years.

These events, any one of which would be staggering to us, were packed into just 3 decades. I tried to imagine myself going through that from 1990 to today. I couldn’t.

Sometimes, when you can’t see forward, it’s helpful to look back. When I did that, I realized we’re a pretty resilient species. The Lost Generation laid the foundation for the world we live in today. They weathered storm after storm after storm. They made it through. They raised families, started businesses and survived.

It will get hard for us. Really hard. It’s a definition of hardship many of us will be dealing with for the first time in our lives. But we go into this with technological and societal advantages the Lost Generation never had or could even dream of. We should be able to do this without falling apart.

We come from good stock.

Want Solid Covid-19 Information? Here is What I've Found

If you’re a statistical “what if” type of person, I can relate. I’ve been doing a lot of that over the last week or two. I’ve found some tools and resources that are heavy on statistical probability and solid information rather than panicked hyperbole or “head in the sand” denial. I thought I’d share them with you.

Updated Numbers

The one source I’ve been following the longest is Worldometer’s Coronavirus page, which is updated daily.

You can drill down to breakdowns for most countries. I’ve been particularly looking at results in example countries that are ahead of us on the curve: on the plus side: China and South Korea. On the negative side: Italy and Spain. The US has further breakdowns by state. Keep on eye on Washington, which will be soon getting to the point where they’ll see if their efforts at lockdown are being effective. Governor Jay Inslee did a statewide lockdown on March 15, the first state to do so. What we want to see if that starts “bending the curve” in the right direction. We should start to see trends in the next week or so.

One note of caution on looking at these numbers. You have to factor in the ramp up of testing, which will identify many more new cases. While this looks scary, it’s very much a good thing. Increased testing is one of the most important steps in slowing down the spread.

Canadian Specific Numbers

Canada does not have a province by province breakdown on Worldometer. The best site I’ve seen for Canada is from the Globe and Mail.

This tool does offer provincial breakdowns. Again, we want to be watching the daily new case graphs to see if the curve starts to bend. Provinces that were leaders in this regard are the ones that have been hit the hardest: BC, Ontario and Alberta. In BC we’ve been stepping towards total lock down for the last week or so. On Friday, we finally shut all restaurants, so we’re about a week behind Washington State in this regard. Ontario was a little bit ahead of us.

Other Trackers

Bing

If you prefer a map-based interface, other tools you might want to check out are Bing’s Covid Tracker:

Bing has done a nice job here, particularly if you’re in the US. You can drill down to very specific location based tracking if you’re American. It’s less useful for Canadians. I also want to see new case incident rates, which are missing.

Google

New on the scene is Google’s Covid Tracker

To be honest, I was expecting a lot more from Google. I know it’s just been rolled out, but Bing is miles ahead in functionality

Bottom Line

If you want to see what might happen, you need to drill down on locations that were aggressive in implementing lockdowns and see what is happening there on a day by day – new cases and new deaths – basis. Remember, there is a 7 – 14 day incubation period, so you need to factor that in. Social distancing and Shelter at Home strategies will take 2 to 3 weeks to show up on these graphs.

Sound Statistics and Modelling

Tomas Pueyo has done an absolutely stellar job of taking available information and modelling out what we might expect to see. In two posts on Medium, he has knocked it out of the park. If you need some solid statistical arguments why you should keep your ass on your couch, you’ll find it here. The first post came on March 10. It convinced me to “shelter at home”.

(By the way, I’ll be using terms around which there is a lot of confusion currently. See this guide about what these terms mean)

Pueyo, who is the VP of Growth at Course Hero, has basically assembled a team of academics, health authorities and quants to “hack” an approach to saving our collective lives. His original post has been read over 40 million times and has been translated into over 30 languages. The science is sound here. His message is straight forward and urgent: stay the fuck home.

The first post, published March 10, is entitled: Coronavirus: Why You Must Act Now:

The second post from March 19 is called: Coronovirus: The Hammer and The Dance

Neither of these posts are easy reading, but it is essential that you do. Pueyo does get into the weeds on his statistical reasoning, but it’s the best analysis I’ve seen about what we might expect.

Statistical Models

The final resource I’ll point you to are a few statistical models I’ve found that allow you to do some what-if modelling for your own circumstances. By far the best is the Epidemic Calculator on Github:

It looks a little daunting at first, but there are really only a few adjustments you need to make. On the bottom, you can leave almost everything in the default position. The inputs are based on the latest information we have on Covid-19. The one you might want to change is the Population input. Set this for your home country, region or even city if you want.

What you want to change are the two slider controls on the top, the Intervention Threshold and the Rt Factor. These two work together, one the timing of actions and the other the severity of actions. The R factor is the transmission rate (Pueyo talks about this extensively). It appears that Covid currently has an R factor of about 2.2, which means that every infected person will infect 2.2 other people. What we want is to get that under 1. Until we do that, the disease spreads exponentially.

Drag the Intervention slider to see the impact of delaying action. Then adjust the slider to the right to see why staying at home is so important. If anything drove it home for me, this did.

There are other models out there. If you like Canadian Content in your statistical models, there is also this one from Memorial University:

Why is This Important?

The biggest problem with what we’re about to go through is the tendency to either panic or to not be aware of the urgency of the situation. Both can be equally dangerous.

It’s so important to know what might come. We have a couple of significant obstacles in this regard:

The Cause/Effect Gap

First, we are dealing with the incubation lag, that frustrating delay between what we do today and when we begin to see the payoff from it. For me, statistical analysis is the best way to drive that point home. With it, its abundantly clear to see why we need to act now and act aggressively.

The Things We Can’t See

The other problem is underestimating the number of people that are already infected. Remember, some of those infected may never show symptoms but still be contagious. Others will show symptoms at 5 or 6 days but will be contagious before that. You can’t look at the number of confirmed cases in your area and get any feeling of security from that. You can be sure the number of actual infections is much higher. This was the same dangerous path that Italy and Spain went down.

For me this has been a roller coaster ride. I need information – good information that’s grounded in fact based research and reasoning. There is far too much bad information out there. That is why I wanted to share these resources. As near as I can tell, this will give you the best baseline of where we’re at and what we need to do going forward. It is scary shit. So the last thing I’ll leave with are some tips of how to cope when it all gets too much: a conversation with psychologist and mental health expert Dr. Reyman Abdulrehman.