Of Smart Phones and Emotional Safety: A Reflection on iGen

Guest Blog by Robert Brenneman, Assoc. Prof. of Sociology at Saint Michael’s College, VT

Not long ago I had a conversation with my 11-year-old son, Nico, that surprised even me. He had recently begun his first year of middle school in the local public school system and was considering the option of attending an after-school program centered on Lego building, something which he loves to do in his free time. But there was just one problem—staying late meant he would have to ride the elementary school bus home instead of the middle school bus. Of course, this was not to his liking, but not for the reasons I expected. “I like the middle school bus ‘coz it’s quiet,” he said. Huh? I was stumped. Whoever heard of a bus filled with sixth, seventh and eighth graders that’s “quiet”?! Not me.  “Yeah,” he went on, “On the middle school bus everyone’s on their phones and no one bothers me.” Nico is growing up iGen.

In her book iGen, Psychologist and San Diego State University Professor Jean Twenge writes about a generational shift that is changing what it means to be a teenager and young adult today. The lengthy sub-title of her book pretty much gives away the punchline: iGen: Why Today’s Super-Connected Kids Are Growing up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy—and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood (And What That Means for the Rest of Us). And let me say from the outset, I am smitten. Twenge is a superb writer with a penchant for taking reams of data and helping readers make sense of the patterns within it—while also alerting us to all of the caveats and risks associated with too-sweeping generalizations. In this case, however, Twenge has found some fairly profound cultural shifts that truly demand our attention. For starters, and this will surprise few readers, youth from iGen (a birth cohort that she identifies as having been born from 1995-2012) are more electronically connected than ever. This is, after all, the first generation to have been born after the rise of the commercial internet and which came of age just as smart phones made internet usage, social media, and electronic screens absolutely ubiquitous. Thus, almost all of the trends she identifies—including time spent looking at screens—apply across the board to US youth from all races, ethnicities and economic/educational levels. The trend toward greater time spent on the internet and/or screens correlates with a number of negative outcomes that have spiked rather suddenly. Teen rates of self-reported depression, thoughts of suicide, and loneliness are among the most obvious. But the actual rate of suicide has also increased. Interestingly though, the teen homicide rate has fallen at the same time as the teen suicide rate has risen. And here’s where her argument is, I think, at its most convincing.

Teens of the “iGen” are spending a lot less time actually interacting face-to-face, and a lot more time virtually interacting. One of the upsides to this is that these teens are safer from being physically harmed by others. Rates of rape, alcohol abuse, and teen pregnancy are falling along with the falling homicide rate. But emotional harm seems to have gone in the other direction. For Twenge—and for me since I came to this book fairly convinced of many of these trends already—the single most likely culprit for both the rise in physical safety as well as emotional anxiety and depression, is the rise of smart phones and social media. This is the case, argues Twenge, because a) no other comparable shift in culture and/or the pastimes of teens took place during the same time period (2008-2015) when the shift in outcomes are most pronounced, and because b) there is clear evidence from recent national surveys correlating increasing screen-time with deteriorating mental well-being.

Just as interesting is the fact that time spent in those activities that involve face-to-face interaction correlate with better mental health outcomes. For instance, in one of the many fascinating graphics she provides, the top two activities associated with a lowered “risk of high depressive symptoms” among 10th graders is 1) Engaging in Sports/exercise, and 2) (are you ready for this?) Attending religious services. Coming in third is “In-person social interaction.” What increases the risk of depressive symptoms? According to the same national survey, which is carried out by the University of Michigan’s National Institute on Drug Abuse; TV watching, internet news, and spending time on social networking websites all raise the odds of kids reporting symptoms of depression. According to additional details on her methods webpage (see page 22 in the pdf doc) this positive correlation is true even after controlling for race, class, and time spent interacting in person. In other words, kids who spend lots of time looking at screens are reporting more depression symptoms not just because they’re interacting less in person. The screen time appears to have a negative effect apart from and beyond the “crowd-out effect” of staying in rather than going out. There is a lot more to say about the research here and Twenge is well aware that her thesis is bold and therefore requires lots of data as well as careful explanation of the likely mechanisms at work.

 This book, however, is not narrowly focused on the screens and social media. It is a broad and deep analysis of the iGen. Anyone working with youth, including teachers, pastors, counselors or college professors like myself will find this book to be a valuable read. For instance, she also pays a lot of attention to a rise in a culture of individualism, especially in a chapter called “Irreligious: Losing My Religion (and Spirituality).” She reports that although for decades American sociologists have pointed out that Americans have remained far more religious than their European counterparts, that is starting to change and, if iGen is any indicator, is likely to change a lot more quickly soon. The reasons for this are multiple, and in this chapter as well as others, smart phones and social media do not receive as much attention perhaps because the rise of hyperindividualism—a key cultural shift contributing to young people’s skittishness around anything religious—was already in place well before the appearance of the iphone.

Another chapter I appreciated is called “Insulated but Not Intrinsic: More Safety and Less Community.” There she examines some of the trends that have been getting attention in the wider media recently, including the rise of “safe spaces” which many iGen-ers seem to demand as a kind of human right. Twenge agrees with certain other public intellectuals like Jonathan Haidt who worry that many college students have interpreted the right to safety as involving the guarantee that they will be protected from encountering people whose opinions might offend them. Her argument is that, compared with earlier generations, iGen-ers have learned to “play it safe”—staying at home instead of going out, waiting longer to get their drivers’ license, and, in some cases, putting off or even avoiding the party scene. At the same time, they have grown accustomed to avoiding encounters with people whose views are different from their own, since that might lead to hurt feelings or emotional discomfort. Put differently, Twenge believes that the desire for safety among iGen-ers has expanded beyond physical safety (access to which has indeed improved in a number of ways) to include a desire for “emotional safety” understood as freedom from having to come into contact with people who disagree with me. After all, this is a generation that has noticeably less experience (compared with Gen-X’ers and Boomers) navigating the messiness of real face-to-face encounters. Live social interaction can be difficult and scary for them, the more so when it involves people with whom they disagree.

As I mentioned above, I had a strongly positive reaction to Twenge’s book. In fact, I had the distinct impression at times that I was reading a work by a sociologist, rather than a psychologist. Not that psychologists can’t be brilliant (or sociologists dull and naïve)—many are. But it is profoundly refreshing to read work by a psychologist who excels at making the link between broader cultural and social changes, and the “choices” made by individuals who inhabit those cultural and social spaces.

Of course, the cultural changes ushered in largely by the spread of a technology do not just impact “choices” made. They impact the reality that we, and especially iGen-ers, live in and must deal with. My son Nico does not yet have a phone, but since most of his bus-riding peers do, he will be increasingly “left alone” if not “left out” by his generation the longer he goes without one. And this leads to the agonizing decision that will be made by many Gen-X parents like me—when will we have to buy the kids a phone? One more reason to think carefully and strategically about the social circles that envelope your kids. They matter now more than ever.

I first met Bob Brenneman in 1996 when he was serving with Mennonite Central Committee in Guatemala. Our friendship and conversations—theological, sociological, and personal—have continued and deepened over the years. A detective could find many of his “fingerprints” on my Discipleship and Ethics course, including, but not limited to: conversation with him about the first version of the course led to changes in the syllabus, I borrowed the one-day tech fast assignment from him, he pointed me to the material I use on inequality, and in recent years his book, Homies and Hermanos, is a text in the class. I am very pleased he agreed to write this blog for the website. Check out more of his blogs at: www.homiesandhermanosbook.wordpress.com

Let's Talk About Sin

“When is last time you used the word ‘sin’ in a conversation?” I recently began a sermon with that question. My assumption was that for many, myself included, it had been awhile. Why? In part, in a society in which tolerance is the supreme virtue, it is not appropriate to talk about sins. But why, even in some churches is the word avoided?

Perhaps it is in response to ways sin has been talked about–as if declaring war on pleasure. Or maybe because the ones using the term were self-righteous-finger-pointing-shamers. Or, perhaps because of the way the word “sin” was linked with an image of a judgmental God–“the big eye in the sky,” people left the term behind as they appropriately ran away from that concept of God.

These are understandable reasons for moving away from talking about sin. But, as I asked that Sunday morning, have we moved too far?

What led me to give a sermon exhorting the congregation to talk more about sin? 

Two books had challenged me and came to mind as I read the biblical texts I was asked to preach on.

In Sin and Grace in Christian Counseling: An Integrative Paradigm Mark McMinn describes how he did not talk about sin much, thinking of himself as a grace-oriented counselor. But he began to wonder, can we fully understand or experience grace without a robust understanding of sin?  “A true understanding of grace has also been lost, because it cannot exist without a language of sin. . . Too often we integrationists are minimizing both grace and sin because our psychological vocabulary does not allow for these notions”(19, 22).

David Brooks, a New York Times columnist does not identify as a Christian, but he appears to be exploring the way of Jesus--often quoting Christian writers. Yet, I did not expect him to talk about sin in his book, The Road to Character. But there it is, on page 54. Like McMinn, Brooks advocates for pulling sin language out of the dustbin and using it. “Sin is a necessary piece of our mental furniture because it reminds us that life is a moral affair. . . No matter how hard we strive to replace sin with nonmoral words, like ‘mistake’ or ‘error’ or ‘weakness,’ the most essential parts of life are matters of individual responsibility and moral choice: whether to be brave or cowardly, honest or deceitful, compassionate or callous, faithful or disloyal. . . To banish words like [‘sin,’] ‘virtue,’ ‘character’ . . . and ‘vice’ . . . means we think and talk about these choices less clearly, and thus become increasingly blind to the moral stakes of everyday life” (54).

Later in the book, he reflects on David Chappell’s analysis of the civil rights movement in A Stone of Hope. One stream of the movement had an optimistic view of human nature and believed that through education and appeal to reason people would gradually see that racism is wrong. The other stream, led by Martin Luther King Jr., emerged from the biblical prophetic tradition. King declared, “Instead of assured progress in wisdom and decency, man faces the ever present possibility of swift relapse not merely to animalism, but into such calculated cruelty as no other animal can practice” (146). King's more serious consideration of the human propensity toward sin led him, and those with him, to be more realistic about others, more humble about themselves, more aggressive, and better able to deal with pain, suffering and setbacks.

These authors had me thinking that although bounded group religiosity often talks about sin in harmful ways, the fuzzy group’s alternative of banning the term also is problematic. A centered approach requires talk of sin. For reasons that McMinn and Brooks point to, and because a centered approach requires a sense of turning from something–turning from sin toward the center. Perhaps we can use a different word than “sin,” but we clearly need the concept.

So, propelled by these authors, I decided to preach on sin.

(If I was giving a three-hour class, rather than preaching a sermon or writing a blog, I would take the time to not just talk about “sins,” but also about what leads us to sin. Viewing the root problem as something in our DNA, passed on, according to Augustine, in male semen contributes to the toxic ways of talking about sin listed above–and more. Much better to go with the pre-Augustinian view of understanding the root problem as alienation, broken relationship with God and others. But rather than giving a “lecture” on that I will simply do what I did that Sunday, suggest you read John E. Toews's book, The Story of Original Sin or send me an e-mail and I will send you my lecture notes on these two contrasting views of sin.)

Knowing I would be encouraging listeners to think and talk more about sins I sought to practice what I was going to preach. I did not do very well. I would prayerful reflect over my days: how had I sinned? Not much came to mind. In part I think it is because “the list” view of sins is so deeply embedded in my being. In my youth I would occasionally slip up and then confess my infraction, but in general I steered clear of the sins on the list in my mind—things like lying, cheating, stealing, swearing, drinking, etc.

At a theoretical level I agreed with McMinn and Brooks, and I was working on a sermon advocating the same thing, but personal application was not going well.

Midway through sermon prep a shift happened when I began crafting my comments on the gospel text for the day—Mark 1:1-8. The word “sins” is in the text. John the Baptist proclaimed “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” The more significant word, the one that stood out to me, was “repentance.” That day, riding my bike home from the seminary, instead of asking “how have I sinned today?” I found myself asking repentance questions: "What are ways I am heading in the wrong direction? Ways I got off track today?"

I asked those questions and as I passed by the county fairgrounds what came to mind was: interruption. I had interrupted others a couple times in the seminary faculty meeting. Interrupting someone was not on my sin list. It would never have come up as an answer to the question: “how have I sinned today?” And, on the other hand it was not a new revelation. I have been working on interrupting less. But in this space of repentance and prayerful openness something new happened. A question came to mind, perhaps by God’s Spirit: “What are you communicating when you interrupt?” I responded, “I communicate that what I have to say is more important than what the other person is saying.” I had an immediate and powerful response. “I do not want to be that kind of person. I repent. I want to change.” What a different experience simply by changing words from "sin" to "repent."

I invite you to let John the Baptist call you to repent just as he called people like us to repent in first century Palestine. But John offers us something more than just some alternative vocabulary for asking the sin question. He prepares the way for someone greater; he points us to Jesus Christ. Someone who also will invite people to repent and offer forgiveness for sins. In fact just a few verses later Jesus proclaims “repent and believe the good news” (v. 15).

What happens when we think about “sins” and “repentance” through the lens of this one John points us to?  Jesus is God incarnate and in Jesus we see the character of the God of nurturing love. Think back to reasons I listed that some of us have moved away from using sin language—scolding, shaming, punitive, lists. Is that Jesus?  

It makes a difference who is talking about sins and repentance: a nurturing caring God, or the big-eye-in- the-sky-God? A nurturing God, like a loving mother or father, still disciplines, still calls for repentance, but it feels significantly different than a shaming, scolding call to turn from sin.

Jesus calls for repentance, challenges us to turn from sin, but it is a call for repentance draped in love.

Let us not simply do what David Brooks does and call for a return to using the language of sin, rather let us use the language of repentance and sin more often, but always bind it to Jesus, wrap it in the nurturing love of God. My experience also points to the importance of working to re-frame the word “sin,” and to use other words to talk about sin.

I was just talking about these contrasting experiences with a student–the sin list vs. a loving God calling me to repent. I realized the first leads me to treat sin like laws and view God like judge or police officer. In my daily life I seek to not break the law. As long as I obey the list of laws the police, the district attorney, and the judge leave me alone. Although in some sense the criminal justice system contributes to my well-being by encouraging me to obey the law, I do not view them as helping me to thrive. I do not expect the police to stop by and give me counsel on how to improve my relationship with my wife or co-workers. I have a very different view of my parents, mentors, pastor, or therapist. Who do you imagine calling you to repent, God as police officer with a list of laws, or God like a mentor, pastor, or therapist? With the sin list mentality the objective is to get God, the police officer, to leave me alone. In contrast, I invite the loving God into my life with hopeful expectation that the call to repent will contribute to a more abundant life.

I will end as I ended the sermon, by suggesting a daily practice you might take up.

Four steps:

1. Focus your mind on an image of God’s nurturing love: perhaps Jesus’ loving gaze, God giving you a maternal hug, a caring shepherd; use an image that works for you.

2. Then, in the security of that love, ask God: what are you calling me to repent from today? Reflect, listen, think back over your day.

3. Confess, repent—make a commitment to change direction.

4. Rest in God’s loving forgiveness.

An important note: Some of you need no exhortation to think daily about your sins and shortcomings. You may need an exhortation to do it less. If that is your situation then the first step is of utmost importance and value.

What might happen if we take up this practice? What might God be lovingly calling you to repent from? What are ways God might be calling you to turn around, change direction?

God loves you, and because God loves you, God calls you to repent, calls you to leave behind attitudes, practices, habits, thoughts, and turn to new ways that will be better for you, for others, for creation.