I‘ve lost count of how often I start my blog posts by admitting I haven’t blogged in a while. Long-form blogging seems to be on its way out, but it still holds a unique place in social media—it’s a constant source of guilt, never feeling frequent, good, seen, or shared enough.
Now that’s out of the way, I want to briefly share some thoughts I’ve been mulling over recently. These reflections have been shaped during a period of poor health, marked by fatigue, headaches, and hypertension. Medical issues and the need to prioritise my well-being amidst a barrage of demands have forced me to slow down, a challenge compounded by the pressure to earn a living. While I recognise my relative privilege, navigating this is far from easy.
So, what are these thoughts about? They unavoidably revolve around the pervasive technologies that define our lives today. I’m grappling with the blurred lines between work and non-work, and how our constant connectivity demands a particular way of existing—one that’s outward-facing, where all forms of labour, even emotional, require constant public engagement.
As someone who champions open access in academia, I’m acutely aware of the burden this places on individuals. It’s not just about making work accessible; it aligns with cultural norms that prioritize public visibility over privacy, extroversion over introversion, and stress over calm. Social media, in particular, plays a significant role in shaping our identities, especially for younger generations who’ve never known a world without it. The pressure to be constantly present is overwhelming, blurring the boundaries between our online and offline lives.
The problem lies in our inability to find balance and distance from these technologies. It’s clear that the current landscape, dominated by algorithms and constant exposure, shapes our behavior and norms. This pressure for perpetual engagement is becoming the norm, leaving little room for introspection or privacy. This is a very specific form of technocapitalism that is increasingly defined by opaque algorithms that privilege constant, interactive public exposure (understood in all its different meanings). This requirement of constant interactive public exposure is making this Being Outwardly the norm. Nothing worth it seems to escape its grasp- if it happens, it should exist as content one can and should engage with. Death is the lack of presence, exposure, and engagement.
It is in this context that balancing the inescapable (?) rule of algorithmic appification becomes a question of individual and public health. It is also a question of rights and justice. We must fight for times and spaces to live inwardly, privately, without metrication. This includes times and spaces to work inwardly, quietly, in private; to think and reflect and plan and design and implement until things are ready, without the external or internalised pressure to document it publicly, to announce it, to hype it up, to be out there.
It’s hard to be sure what Simone Weil meant precisely when, in “The Mysticism of Work”, (Gravity and Grace, 1947), she wrote:
Two tasks:
To individualise machinery.
To individualise science (popularization, a people’s university on the Soctratic model for the study of the elements of various trades.”
In the context of that chapter, the fragment seems to point out there is a need to humanise, or personalise, “machinery” and “science”, tools and knowledge, and the latter understood as the university, but not just any unversity, but “a people’s university”. Weil writes in that same chapter that “work makes us pexperience in the most exhausting manner the phenomenon of finality rebounding like a ball; to work in order to eat, to eat in order to work”. I wonder what Weil would have made of today’s “machinery”, particularly those used in universities, but also everywhere else as a means to live and earn a living.
The machinery that we now take for granted as a condition to remain a human being in the world does make us experience finality rebounding like a ball. Life as work; work as life; our avatars as ourselves. It is exhausting because it is not just constant but permanent, and avoiding it or resisting it has consequences; it is directly or indirectly, pragmatically or symbolically penalised. This is why Being Outwardly and Being Burned-Out are both prominent features of today’s discourse. The common thread is the fatigue that follows this constant having to obey. The struggle against this relentless pressure to be outwardly visible is real, and it’s one that many of us grapple with daily. Whether it’s posting on social media or meeting productivity targets, the exhaustion of always having to comply takes its toll.
I think it’s crucial to end on a positive note. I believe we have the power to collectively shape a different equilibrium. It’s not about choosing one extreme over the other; it’s not an either/or situation. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sharing these thoughts here at all. What we need is a balance—a state where we can still be part of something bigger than ourselves, but only through a continuous effort to rediscover the value of living private, inner lives. We must remember that meaningful work happens even when we’re not online. It’s about reclaiming that space for ourselves and nurturing it, even as we navigate the demands of our interconnected world.
Some typos may have remained. This post may be lightly edited following publication and sharing.
Everything is Connected 