The Attention We Are Losing

I am struggling with this one. Big time.

And I see my daughter going through the same thing, although she doesn't think it's a struggle. I write less. I watch more.

My addiction to gadgets is, quite honestly, appalling to me. I can sit in front of my laptop with the very clear intention of writing, reviewing or researching something—and somehow end up doom-scrolling on my phone. Sometimes, I don't even remember why I picked up the phone in the first place.

Our attention is getting fragmented. There is absolutely no denying it.

Digital environments are designed to compete for it, notifications, infinite scrolling, autoplay, recommendations, alerts… We scroll, switch, click, swipe and repeat. And somewhere along the way, sustained attention has become a skill.

That is where I think analog life matters.

Reading a physical book. Writing in a notebook. Painting, sketching or colouring. Gardening. Cooking. Walking. Playing on the ground with friends. Volunteering. Sitting with someone without reaching for a phone.

These activities don't constantly compete for our attention. They ask us to give our attention. And that simple act is incredibly powerful.

Because what looks like an old-fashioned activity may actually be training some of the most important skills we need for the 21st century: flexibility, initiative, productivity, leadership and social skills.

Writing by hand asks us to slow down and organise our thoughts.

Playing a game with others asks us to negotiate, adapt and collaborate. Cooking asks us to plan, improvise and follow through. Gardening teaches patience and responsibility. Volunteering asks us to move beyond ourselves and engage with the world around us. None of these are just analog activities.

They are practice grounds for life.

And perhaps that is what makes them even more relevant as we look towards the 22nd century. The next generation will grow up alongside AI, automation and technologies we haven't even imagined yet. They will need deep adaptability, the ability to work meaningfully with AI, and a sense of systemic responsibility towards our planet and society.

But here's the paradox: The more powerful our technology becomes, the more important our human capabilities may become.

Attention. Judgment. Curiosity. Empathy. Initiative. Collaboration. Adaptability. The ability to be present.

And these aren't skills we can download. They are built through experience. Which brings me back to us as parents. If you aren't reading, don't expect your child to pick up a book. If you aren't writing, perhaps don't complain that "children are losing the touch of writing."

If you aren't stepping away from your screen, don't expect them to instinctively know when to step away from theirs. Children don't just learn what we tell them. They learn what they see us value.

So perhaps the question isn't whether we should return to an analog life. We can't. And I don't think we should.

The question is: What parts of analog life are worth deliberately carrying forward?

Because maybe the skills we build through them today are precisely the ones that will help us stay human tomorrow.