Last month, I applied to a
study abroad program in Paris
and had to fill out an application
with an “activities” section.
My heart sank. I got the same
feeling as when a professor,
attempting an icebreaker, asks:
“What do you like to do for fun?”
To be truthful, what I like to do
for fun is send TikToks to my
roommates as they sit right next
to me doing the same, but that
didn’t seem like an acceptable
answer to present to my upper
level psychology course on the
first day.
The
application
question
forced me to ask myself a
question that I sadly had no
immediate answer to: What do
I choose to actively do for fun,
with no social, economic or
otherwise measurable reward
involved?
I used to have hobbies. I used
to play softball and volleyball,
write
poems
and
creative
stories and play guitar and bass.
So what changed?
Answering
this
question
made me sad. I hadn’t realized
how this noticeable lack of
hobbies in my life has made me
feel less fulfilled until I had to
confront it, and now I haven’t
stopped thinking about it.
As it turns out, American
hobbies are a byproduct of the
historical context in which
they were created. During the
Industrial Revolution, as long,
dreadful hours in factory lines
became
more
normalized,
labor unions began forming,
advocating for shorter working
hours and five-day work weeks.
The result was an increase in
free time. People began picking
up hobbies as a way to fill the
hours in between work with
something pleasurable, while
still not wasting the day away.
Additionally,
the
Great
Depression and World War II
in the mid 20th century created
a national landscape of tension
and apprehensiveness. As the
author of an article about “How
Hobbies Infiltrated American
Life” describes, anxiety and
low employment are the perfect
cocktail to ensure a rise in
hobbies.
Not only were hobbies used
to kill time, they also acted
as an escape from whatever
reality plagued the country
or one’s individual anxieties.
COVID-19 is a prime example
of how national and personal
distress led people to find
refuge in kitchen hacks like
whipped coffee and making
sourdough bread. Hobbies give
people a sense of purpose and
enrichment.
Research
even
shows
that
engagement
in
hobbies for personal pleasure
is associated with higher levels
of psychological and physical
health.
As illustrated by the book
“Hobbies:
Leisure
and
the
Culture of Work in America,”
it is clear that in times of
distress, the American public
turns to hobbies as a means
of
“productive
leisure.”
There is a clear oxymoron
here, and it seems that 21st
century capitalism has put an
emphasis on the “productive”
part of hobby creation and
maintenance.
Maybe this is the reason I
don’t have hobbies the way I
used to. I am too busy being
“productive,” keeping myself
busy with other things society
has deemed more beneficial and
important
than
unnecessary
activities of pleasure. I have
a full school schedule, a job
and engage in extracurricular
activities
that
would
look
impressive
on
a
resume.
Hobbies, without any monetary
or
professional
benefit
to
myself, have been put on the
backburner.
It’s not that the activities
I do engage in don’t bring
me joy – they do. But, adding
extrinsic rewards (i.e. money,
good grades, a job interview)
to something that one already
finds
pleasurable
changes
the nature of the activity and
decreases the intrinsic value
from engaging in the activity.
This isn’t to say that my
experience of losing interest in
hobbies as life has gotten busier
is the norm. If someone spent
approximately
ten
minutes
scrolling on TikTok, they would
be bombarded with extremely
talented
painters,
dancers
and bakers, all showing off
their skills in an entertaining,
accessible format. It’s not that
hobbies don’t exist anymore, but
they have become something
to gawk at and commercialize,
rather than something to find
intrinsic,
personal
pleasure
from.
As content creators showcase
their talents and hobbies online,
consumers gobble up this media
with delight. Sometimes just
watching another person engage
in a hobby satisfies the creative
itch that instigates a desire
for hobbies in the first place.
Watching someone crochet a
hat and shirt entertains me to
no end, but doesn’t necessarily
encourage me to engage in a
similar act myself.
The fact is, leisure time
is
spent
very
differently
today than it was even just
two decades ago. In a study
conducted
by
Swedish
researchers that analyzed three
cohorts of young adults from
1990-2011,
they
found
that
there has been a decrease in
time spent on in-person social
interactions, reading and other
offline activities. All the while,
time spent online increased
considerably,
including
activities like watching TV.
Findings
from
the
Pew
Research Center corroborate
this idea, showing that teens
experience less leisure time
than they did a decade or two
ago. Current teens spend more
time on homework and sleeping
than their peers did in the
90s. But, besides those two
activities, the majority of the
former group’s time is spent on
screens.
In addition to this, time spent
by teens in other activities such
as socializing and enjoying
extracurriculars has declined,
reaching barely over an hour
a day. With screens readily
available to entertain, captivate
and
distract,
the
drive
to
spend this limited leisure time
creating and actively doing
instead
of
consuming
has
become less appealing.
Even though we know that
hobbies provide immeasurable
color to our lives and actually
contain health benefits, they
are harder to maintain in a
society that values productivity
and money-making.
In an article advocating for
the importance of hobbies in
the 21st century, a section is
dedicated to how easy it is to
turn a hobby into a career. But,
doesn’t that defeat the purpose
of hobbies in the first place?
Hobbies, at their essence and
origin, were an escape from
work. Using the incentive of
a career as a reason to adopt a
hobby shows just how much
the meaning and purpose of
hobbies has changed.
At the same time, if social
clout
or
monetary
rewards
are
incentivizing
people
to
maintain and showcase their
hobbies, I can’t claim that this
is necessarily a bad thing. If
anything, I applaud and admire
people who create careers based
on activities they truly enjoy.
Work should be enjoyable, but I
wonder if once a hobby becomes
“work,” can it still be classified
as a hobby?
It
can’t
be
deliberately
concluded that in an age of
technology and productivity,
hobbies
have
completely
fallen to the wayside. But,
they have shifted from their
original purpose as personally-
motivated,
anxiety-quenchers
and free-time-fillers.
Obviously,
we
live
in
a
completely
different
society
than
the
19th
century
Industrial Revolution, and the
way we spend our leisure time
has changed and adapted with
it. As long as we keep creating
and continue to find pleasure in
these activities (whether we get
paid for them or not), hobbies
will remain an essential lifeline
for those bogged down with
work and the sad realities of our
modern world.
So, to answer the question on
my study abroad application, I
guess writing about the collapse
of
genuine,
intrinsically
motivated hobbies is what I
“do for fun”...in addition to
watching TikToks with my
friends.
Around every online corner,
someone is trying to sell you
something. Advertisements for
Grammarly play before, during
and
after
YouTube
videos.
Online shopping ads show up
on social media, streaming
platforms and message boards.
These ads intrude our casual
web browsing and interrupt
our
scrolls
through
news
articles. Just now, I couldn’t
look up a synonym for ‘intrude’
without
seeing
an
ad
for
children’s Zyrtec — and I don’t
have allergies nor do I have a
kid.
Online ads are everywhere,
but the fact that they subtract
a couple seconds of my time
has
always
been
a
minor
inconvenience. For most of
my life, I dismissed these ads
as a normal part of existing
half of any given day in front
of a screen. But recently I’ve
grown a little more skeptical.
When I see a Zyrtec ad, I’m left
wondering why I was shown
their product.
If I’m browsing the web,
and I click the little ‘x’ to
close out a pop-up ad, Google
replaces the image with two
links: ‘Stop seeing this ad’ and
‘Why this ad?’ This second
link opens a new tab in which
Google explains that the ad
was selected based off of “(My)
activity on Google on this
device.”
This sounds innocuous — at
least Google would like you to
think so.
I think of ads on television as
veering into manipulative, but
that’s different. Online ads are
just there in the background.
So what’s the issue?
Well, Google is keeping tabs
on our online presences. Many
of us take this notion in stride,
swallowing our discomfort in
exchange for the regular use of
our technology, but I want to
know exactly how the so-called
“Tracking Industry ‘’ came
to be — especially because it
might be on its way out.
In April of 2021, Apple
introduced a pop-up window
to their products in which
users can “Ask App not to
Track” their personal data. At
first, I barely bat an eye at the
release of this new feature. But
now I realize it has massive
implications for the future of
the internet.
But before I looked to the
internet’s future, I had to
understand the past. I’m old
enough to have grown up
alongside the internet, but
young enough to have never
questioned
why
and
how
it’s always been there. To
understand how the free online
services I use, such as Google,
are paid for, I dug into the story
of the internet’s origins.
There is no singular answer
as to who invented the internet
as we know it today. Many
individuals
contributed
to
the technology that we are
presently familiar with as ‘the
web.’ Starting in 1966, The
United States Department of
Defense funded the Advanced
Research
Projects
Agency
Network, or ARPANET, which
was one of the technological
building blocks for the modern
internet. Using this technology,
information could be securely
transferred between computers
at Pentagon-funded research
labs.
Access to the ARPANET
grew in 1981 when the National
Science
Foundation
funded
network access for University
computer scientists. At this
point in time, what the NSF
coined the ‘Computer Science
Network’ was still intended
primarily for communication
among
remote
computers.
By 1990, partnerships with
corporations such as IBM and
AT&T began the transition of
ARPANET technology into the
private sector.
Eventually,
what
was
initially a technology intended
for
secure
communication
between computers at different
locations ballooned into one
of the most ubiquitous tools in
human history: the internet.
In 1994, Lou Montulli created
a way for websites to place a
small file on every computer
that visited the site, tracking
their activity. He named this
file the ‘cookie’. The ‘cookie’
turned the average internet
user’s
personal
information
into a resource. Companies
could now take advantage of
internet users’ online activity
to market relevant products to
them. These digital ads were
the rocket fuel that shot the
tech giants we’re familiar with
today — Facebook, Google and
Twitter — to the top of the
digital food chain.
But now, the $350 billion
digital ad industry is on thinner
ice than ever. According to
Sheri Bachstein, global head of
IBM Watson Advertising and
The Weather Company, “With
all the changes happening in
advertising with privacy, and
identifiers and cookies being
eliminated by the big tech
companies, if all your revenue
depends on advertising, that’s
going to be challenging in the
near future.”
It’s remarkable to think that
the internet could undergo
such a dramatic shift. Alphabet,
Google’s
parent
company,
makes more than 80% of its
revenue from advertising.
Then
again,
it’s
not
uncommon
for
companies
who
provide
an
online
service to make their money
independently
of
digital
advertising.
As a University of Michigan
Student, my access to Canvas
plays a significant role in my
success. Fortunately, my data
appears to be in good hands. A
brief inquiry into the Canvas
Privacy Policy reveals that
Instructure, the developer of
Canvas, does not “sell or rent
your personal information to
third parties.” As a Learning
Management Software, Canvas
makes money by charging ‘a
one-time implementation fee
and an annual subscription fee
based on an institution’s total
number of users.’
With personal data becoming
more difficult to justify as a
means to generate revenue for
tech companies, subscription
fees and other charges may
become more commonplace on
the internet. Services such as
YouTube Premium may become
the norm, wherein users pay
a subscription fee in order to
access an ad-free platform,
or otherwise continue to use
YouTube for free in exchange
for constant advertising.
And
there’s
power
in
marketing. Ads become a part
of our collective consciousness.
If I asked someone how much
fifteen minutes could save
me on car insurance, they’d
know.
Nevertheless,
digital
ads might not be as effective
as their creators think — like
that Zyrtec ad I keep coming
back to. I could speculate that
Zyrtec picked up on some
slight indication from one of
my Google searches that I was
looking for allergy medicine.
But the kicker is that I don’t
know
whether
Zyrtec
had
my data or not, and that is
concerning enough.
In theory, the targeting of
ads based on a user’s expressed
interests seems like an efficient
way to get more people to buy
more things. So it would seem
counterintuitive that in 2018
when the New York Times
ended its behavioral targeting
in
Europe,
its
advertising
revenue
did
not
decrease.
Anecdotally,
I
rarely
ever
buy the products that are
advertised digitally to me, even
when they do fit my interests.
But the truth is, this isn’t
about me. It’s about how much
my data will sell for.
In 2014, when Cambridge
Analytica
obtained
the
Facebook
data
of
tens
of
millions
of
users
to
‘sell
psychological
profiles
of
American voters to political
campaigns,’
the
hashtag
#DeleteFacebook
started
trending on Twitter. Herein
lies the problem; When one
online platform violated the
privacy of its users, the public
took to another online platform
to criticize the first one. When
we live our lives ‘chronically
online,’ our data is always at
stake.
Deleting Facebook doesn’t
sound so bad, but deleting the
internet is not an option. The
vast reservoir of information
available to me is like having
a second brain. I’m constantly
one firing of a motor neuron
away from all the information
I need.
So, as wary as I am of
corporations preying on my
data, I’m equally aware that
using the internet requires
individual action on my part
to protect that data. Knowing
which companies I can trust
with my information and which
I cannot make all the difference
for a secure interaction with
the world wide web.
At the end of the day, data
privacy will win me over faster
than any online ad ever could.
Wednesday, October 19, 2022 — 7
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
S T A T E M E N T
CONNOR O’LEARY HERRERAS
Statement Columnist
Digital ads: The struggle between gratuity and privacy
The rise and fall of genuine hobbies
ELLA KOPELMAN
Statement Columnist
Design by Abby Schreck