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