Explainer
AI - Artificial Intelligence
Culture
Digital
5 min read

How tech harvests our humanity

The second in a three-part series exploring the implications of technology.

James is Canon Missioner at Blackburn Cathedral. He researches technology and theology at Oxford University.

blue cables converge on a server.

In the first article, I painted a picture of the ordinary person using modern technology, for example, social media on a smart phone. I noted that advocates for modern technology seem to have two basic principles: that technology is natural and neutral. In this next article I want to introduce the philosophy of Martin Heidegger and show how he pushes against these two basic principles and invites us to think again about modern technology. Heidegger’s instinct, as a twentieth century philosopher, is to be suspicious that things are not as they seem, he casts his suspicious gaze over modern technology and sees a way of being that technology encourages that exists underneath the technologies that we use every day. 

What Heidegger wants to show us about modern technology is not related to specific concerns about particular technologies but instead a general suspicion about the ‘essence’ of technology, or, you could say, the spirit of technology. He doesn’t want us to immediately jump to pragmatic questions about how to use technology, as if the primary question is how to make any given technology better or more moral. Instead, Heidegger wants us to take modern technology together as a whole and ask, “What is the essence of this?” Heidegger’s contention is that “technology is not an object or set of objects, nor a way of handling objects with tools, but a form of being the world. It is not something we choose to refuse, but the environment in which modern humans come into existence.”

Heidegger argues that underneath any piece of tech that we might use in our day-to-day lives, technology at its core has already completely changed the way that we as a society understand and interact with the world and everything in it. We live in a technological age and as members of a technological society and so we have been shaped by (to use Christian language, we have been ‘discipled’ by) the spirit of the age to see the world around us. Heidegger suggests that we now see the world as broken down into useable bits that can be categorised and reformed to suit our needs. As Mark Wrathall puts it, the essence of technology is to train us to “experience the world as calling on us or drawing us. To transform everything into stock pieces, so that they can be placed into a vast inventory of options.”[2] Growing up in a technological society means that we see the whole world as an Amazon warehouse a place of seemingly limitless options that can be called upon depending on our needs and quickly delivered.  

A piece of technology such as the smartphone points to a wider ‘spirit’ of technology which intends to position everything, even human beings, as replaceable resources within a larger system. 

The central word that Heidegger uses to describe the essence of technology is gestell which is not an easy word to translate into English, but two possible translations would be ‘positionality’, or ‘enframing’. His point is that the essence of technology is to remove objects, people, and things from their natural environment and position them so that they might become useful, a resource, available for our manipulation. When Heidegger says that the essence of technology is gestell he is pointing to the way that modern technology extracts objects from their contexts and turns them into a quarry to the plundered. There are of course obvious ways in which humanity has always extracted resources from the natural world: we have always quarried for energy (coal, oil etc) or chopped down forests for wood. By claiming that the essence of modern technology is gestell, Heidegger wants us to notice that in the modern world, it’s not just quarries or forests that we mine for resources but now anything and everything can be turned from being a singular object in the world into a recourse for extraction. Everything has become what Heidegger calls “standing reserve.”  

Think again of a smartphone, it is just one of the billions of devices that sit on shelves or, having already been purchased, live in someone else’s pocket. Inside each device are thousands of transistors and circuit boards each of which again are stockpiled in warehouses ready to be replaced if needed or used for some other purpose. Your phone is connected to a network of nodes each of which can be replicated or replaced if needed, no node is unique.  Your latest phone has no unique or prize relation to you, it’s just the latest upgrade which will be recycled in a year or two when the next upgrade becomes available. The person from whom you bought the phone is equally replaceable, just a faceless employee completing a set of controlled and pre-arranged tasks that are designed to be completed by anyone and no one in particular. Likewise, you as the consumer are considered to be little more than “standing reserve” by the companies that supply you with your smartphone and access to their networks. One of many millions of nodes in their system that has been analysed so that your preferences can be expertly mapped to the range of services that they provide. Within that system, you are completely replaceable. A piece of technology such as the smartphone points to a wider ‘spirit’ of technology which intends to position everything, even human beings, as replaceable resources within a larger system: “Every item within this standing reserve is reduced to a position, actively waiting to be called on. Heidegger insists this is no judgment on the radio, the internet, or the smartphone user. It is just the way in which the essence of modern technology interacts with humanity… Heidegger provides a diagnosis of our modern age and the way in which we humans have placed ourselves under the sway of modern technology, as a resource standing within a network which seeks, ultimately, to place, represent, and think of every entity as an object within an all-encompassing system.”

Let’s return to the original thought experiment at the start of the first article: a mother playing with her child, who immediately reaches for her phone to capture the moment when her child does something particularly cute. An advocate for modern technology, like Steve Jobs, may look at that interaction and see only the benefit: a mother wanting to remember a beautiful moment with her child extends the capacities of her brain using a digital tool to aid her memory. But Heidegger would be more suspicious, he would look at that moment and argue instead that the essence of technology is to turn everything, even a precious moment with a cute baby, into a resource to be used at a later date. The unique moment of joy and delight between parent and child becomes caught and codified such that it can be found and replayed at will or easily replicated to send to others. At the extreme end of the spectrum are so-called content creators who reduce themselves to just another resource to be harvested on social media. 

So that is Heidegger’s diagnosis of our technological age, in the final article in this series we will consider Heidegger’s solution and consider what a particularly Christian response to Heidegger’s diagnosis might look like. 

Explainer
Attention
Care
Culture
Psychology
5 min read

How to help someone with ADHD to live well

Overstimulation, inner critics, and the quiet power that restores balance
An emoji-style brain divided in two with active emojis one side and calm ones the other.
Nick Jones/Midjourney.ai.

This week’s headlines about ADHD in the UK paint a troubling picture. NHS England commissioned an ADHD Taskforce which has warned that waiting lists for assessment and support are “unacceptably long”, with services buckling under the pressure of rising demand. In some areas, including Coventry and Warwickshire, NHS boards have even paused new adult referrals to prioritise children. Charities are already preparing legal challenges. 

Among the Taskforce’s key recommendations is a call for general practitioners to take on a bigger role. Rather than referring every suspected case to specialist services, GPs are to receive training to recognise and manage ADHD within primary care – a shift intended to relieve the enormous strain on the system. But this raises a human question as well as a policy one: while people wait (often for months or even years) what can families and friends do to help? And might some of these strategies reduce the need for crisis-level specialist support in the first place? 

Around  five per cent of the population is thought to have ADHD, though the true figure may be higher. Rising diagnosis rates have prompted some scepticism: are we simply getting better at recognising the condition, or is something new happening in our overstimulated modern world? 

Psychiatrists Edward Hallowell and John Ratey suggest that many of us now live in an attention environment that mimics ADHD. They call this phenomenon VAST: Variable Attention Stimulus Trait. VAST is not a disorder, and it is not “ADHD lite”; rather, it’s a product of neuroplasticity, i.e., the brain’s capacity to adapt to its environment. ADHD, by contrast, is neurodevelopmental – it is part of how a person’s brain is wired from the start. ADHD can’t be “undone” – nor would many want it to be. ADHD is a way of being that entails many strengths as well as struggles, as I have written about before. But where there are struggles, both ADHD and VAST respond to similar strategies for living well. 

Hallowell and Ratey describe the brain as operating through a set of overlapping neural networks. Two of these, the Task Positive Network and the Default Mode Network, play a key role in attention and focus. The Task Positive Network switches on when we’re engaged in a clear, structured activity: writing an email, cooking dinner, solving a problem. When it’s active, we’re absorbed and unselfconscious. The Default Mode Network, by contrast, takes over when we’re not focused on a specific task. It’s the realm of daydreaming, reflection, and big-picture thinking – reviewing what we’ve done, imagining what comes next. 

For most people, the brain glides between these two states smoothly. But in today’s hyperconnected, screen-saturated culture, many of us – especially those with VAST – flicker between them too quickly, never giving our Default Mode Network enough time to process what has just happened. The result is stress, restlessness, and mental exhaustion. 

In ADHD, though, the problem is different and deeper. Brain scans suggest that both networks may be running simultaneously, and the Default Mode Network in particular has a knack for interrupting. Imagine trying to finish a task while a running commentary in your head constantly questions its worth, urgency, or achievability. That’s the ADHD experience: the Default Mode’s chatter makes tasks hard both to start and to finish. 

But the Default Mode Network isn’t all bad. It can be a source of creativity, moral reflection, and meaning. It’s the voice that tells you a task matters, that something is worth your effort. Hallowell and Ratey liken it to the classic “angel and devil” on your shoulders – but the devil often shouts louder. That’s partly because the human brain is wired to prioritise threat. We remember criticism more vividly than praise, and replay social embarrassments more easily than successes. For people with ADHD, this negativity bias can be overwhelming. As Hallowell and Ratey put it: 

“People who have ADHD or VAST are particularly prone to head towards gloom and doom in their minds because they have stored up in their memory banks a lifetime of failure, disappointment, shame, and frustration. Life has taught them to expect the worst.” 

This relentless inner critic drives many ADHDers to self-soothe – ideally through human connection, but too often through less healthy means: food, alcohol, drugs, or risky behaviours. Statistically, people with ADHD are ten times more likely to develop an addiction, and their average lifespan is at least 13 years shorter than that of the general population. 

So how can friends and family help? Is there a way to interrupt the drive to self-medicate in self-destructive ways? The answer, remarkably, is so ancient and simple as to almost seem facile: it is love. 

When the Default Mode Network first hits upon a negative self-judgement, its instinct is to reach outward – to seek comfort and belonging. If connection is unavailable, the “devil voice” finds substitutes in addictive or numbing behaviours. But when real, safe relationships are present, they act as a protective buffer. Studies show that people with ADHD who experience strong, consistent love from partners, friends and family have lower addiction rates, better health, and longer lives. 

Of course, loving someone with ADHD can sometimes demand extra patience. Your ADHD friend or family member is likely to be the most creative, empathetic, and generous person you know, yet also the one who forgets your birthday, arrives late, or leaves your message unanswered. None of this is intentional neglect; it is the Default Mode’s interference – the whisper that says, “They probably don’t like me that much anyway.” Understanding this dynamic transforms frustration into compassion. It helps us see that behind the missed text is someone fighting an invisible cognitive tug-of-war – a loved one who needs reassurance, not reprimand. 

Even for those without ADHD, our era of constant notifications and information overload is training our brains toward VAST-like patterns. We’re pulled between self-judgment and self-justification, between doing and ruminating, with little space for rest. Learning to quiet the inner critic and nurture connection is good for all of us. 

When we tune into the gentler side of our Default Mode Network – the voice that says “You are valuable to the people around you” – mistakes lose their sting, and perfection ceases to be the price of self-worth. 

The NHS may take years to fully resolve its ADHD backlog. But in the meantime, there is meaningful work that families, friends, and communities can do. We can offer the connection that helps quiet the inner storm by being the person who reaches out, forgives the lateness, and replies with warmth even when the other couldn’t. 

This may not shorten the waiting list, but it could lengthen lives. For the millions with ADHD, and the millions more living with VAST, love is not a sentimental afterthought – it is the neurological antidote to despair. 

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