Escaping Digital Dependency

Reclaiming Presence in a World of Distraction

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Introduction

As certain countries in Europe move toward digital ID laws (creating more barriers to access basic services), a growing group of people is choosing to leave the internet more often. It’s the same group that’s weary of constant advertisements and the quiet exploitation of their attention without consent.

Made up of all generations, these individuals are asking: What happens when I cut my dependency on this convenient way of living? Over the last few years, I’ve come to recognize three areas that begin to reemerge when you sever ties with the internet: Autonomy. Privacy. Presence. These aspects of life return the more you engage in offline activities. They were once a given, part of the basic foundation of daily life, but have become elusive in today’s screen-saturated world.

Today, we take a moment to help you recover these three areas with practical ideas for cultivating a more sustainable pace of life.

Photo by Joshua Hoehne on Unsplash

Autonomy

In a recent paper on Artificial Intelligence, Oxford philosopher Philip Koralus explores a growing tension between our agency, autonomy, and engagement with the digital world. His concern is not just the volume of information we receive, but the way it quietly shapes our ability to think and choose.

As AI systems evolve and flood our lives with constant, curated input, Koralus argues that we begin to lose two essential human capacities: the ability to act (agency) and the ability to remain self-directed (autonomy). When these two fall out of balance, something vital is lost. “Agency without autonomy is empty,” he writes, “and autonomy without agency is impotent.” In other words, it’s not enough to act. We must act from a place of intention. And it’s not enough to be free. We must be free to engage meaningfully with the world around us.

Over the last decade, technology companies have quietly trained us to outsource both judgment and action to frictionless algorithms. Meta, Amazon, Google, and TikTok have built environments where we act on impulse, follow prompts, and accept suggestions before we’ve even asked what we truly desire. Apple Pay, Klarna, and Venmo remove the pause that once made us consider value, turning our pocket machines into spending devices powered by a swipe, a tap, and a blur. The result is the steady erosion of our agency and autonomy.

In these systems, we are consumers on autopilot: fed a diet of convenience and stimulation, primed for purchase, and kept just distracted enough to forget we ever had a choice. When you step out of the cycle, you begin to see it for what it is. But you need distance to do so. The culture of immediacy and entertainment has a way of making us comfortable while leaving deeper questions aside. That’s why distance is our best friend. A weekend without a phone and a reading list, or shutting down the device at 6 p.m. to engage with family, can remind you of what autonomy feels like. It is choosing a world shaped by your priorities instead of theirs.

✅ Action Item: This week, set one intentional boundary with your devices: whether it’s a no-phone evening, a tech-free meal, or a 24-hour digital sabbath. Notice how it changes your sense of agency and jot down what you decide to do.

Photo by Amy Treasure on Unsplash

Privacy

The second area that unfolds when you return offline is privacy. Without the constant broadcast of updates, people no longer keep tabs on your latest happenings or what you had for lunch last week. Stepping away from social media shifts you from someone seeking the approval of others to someone free to live a quieter, more grounded life.

This kind of life doesn’t make you a hermit. It simply means you regain the right to decide what to share, when to share it, and with whom. I think of a friend who sends a Christmas newsletter each year with a family photo. Because they don’t use social media, they aren’t offering a minute‑by‑minute play of their life. Instead, they wait until the end of the year, craft a handwritten letter, and share heartfelt updates with those of us who care.

Carissa Véliz, in Privacy is Power, and Shoshana Zuboff, in The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, both argue that privacy is far more than a personal preference: it is a form of collective power. Each time we surrender data, we surrender influence over our own choices. Protecting privacy, they insist, is how we reclaim both freedom and democracy. Big Tech has built its business model on privacy intrusion, harvesting personal data not only to predict our behavior but to shape it. What is sold as convenience is, in truth, a system designed to erode autonomy and tighten control.

When we step outside of the tech corner, you begin to focus on what we recover. By stepping offline, we recover the ability to narrate our own story on our own terms. We recover the pause between experience and disclosure. And we recover the dignity of choosing an audience rather than being perpetually on display. Privacy, then, is less about retreat and more about authorship. It is the power to reclaim the pen from platforms that would otherwise write our lives for us.

✅ Action Item: This week, choose one story, photo, or update you would normally post online and instead share it intentionally with a smaller circle through a letter, a phone call, or a private message. Notice how it feels to control the audience, the timing, and the meaning of what you share. 

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

Presence

This part is my favorite and the hardest one as well. It is undoubtedly true that the internet is exciting. There’s a website or app for everything, each one curated to tap into our primal desires. Yet, that same excitement often keeps us distant from our loved ones. I know this happens in my life when I choose to play chess online.

The game is harmless in itself, but the cost is subtle: my attention drifts from the people in the room to the moves on a screen. Presence, then, slips away in a quiet trade of seconds and glances. That’s how they make it work. Engineered as a second‑by‑second exchange of time for dopamine, platforms convince us to stay hooked on the screen instead of the world. It’s the slow roll of “the next episode” on Netflix, and suddenly you’ve traded sleep for one more hour you’ll never get back.

Choosing to be present is hard. It’s hard because our brains want the exciting rush of the internet instead of fixing the argument with our spouses. One is easy and satisfying for the moment, the other is hard but it will fix your marriage. To give the gift of undivided attention in a world that constantly fragments it is an act of courage and determination. It signals, to our brains and to those around us, that we are willing to sit in discomfort now for the sake of something better later.

The best part about presence is that it can be practiced anywhere. At the gym, it might mean noticing your breath and form instead of scrolling between sets. In the car, it could be turning off the podcast for a few minutes and actually sitting with your thoughts. At the office, it’s closing the extra tabs and giving a colleague your undivided attention. Presence is portable. It travels with you, and the more you practice it in ordinary spaces, the more natural it becomes when the stakes are high.

✅ Action Item: Choose a “presence zone” for the week. Your car, the gym, the walk in the park. In that space, commit to no multitasking and no digital escape. Simply focus your attention on the moment at hand. Notice how even a few minutes of undivided presence shifts your energy, sharpens your awareness, and deepens your relationships.

Conclusion

Autonomy, privacy, and presence are not extras; they are essentials. The digital world offers convenience, but often at the cost of our agency, our stories, and our attention. Stepping offline, even in small ways, helps us reclaim: the freedom to choose, the power to author our own lives, and the courage to be fully here.

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From 7 Hours to Freedom

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