Human beings are knowledge-seeking creatures. Evolutionary biologists explain this phenomenon as associated with our awareness of our own vulnerability and mortality. As such, people are sensitive to the amount of information that they possess or lack at any given moment. Intriguingly, we are bothered by either knowing too much or too little. On the one hand, we risk misapprehending the risks in a situation; something which proved deadly to our primitive ancestors. It was important to know, for instance, what the changing seasons entailed. It was important to know how much flooding by the Nile was necessary for the soil. On the other hand, too much information also proves to be catastrophic. We live in that latter era now, and the paragon of this new electronic obtrusiveness is Zoom.
At this juncture, let me express my sincere gratitude for teleconferencing tools like Zoom. It has enabled us to reconnect across vast distances in real-time. In this bizarre moment in time we are sharing, the most powerful leaders of the world and preschool teachers alike conduct their business on the same platform. It is truly astonishing, and I acknowledge its ingenuity.
However, I believe that we have now flown too close to the sun. There is too much information. Whereas before the pandemic, many of us were keeping it together just enough, we have now tipped over and are unable to maintain energy or focus. We may get by, but we are not flourishing, and this is detrimental. I, for one, find it extremely difficult to focus on Zoom. I know I am not alone in this. Being in law school comes with the belief that we cannot address our own stress, lest we admit a chink in our armour. No amount of emails from faculty or proclamations that were all ‘in this together’ can fully eliminate the internal, unspoken pressure we feel when we strive to appear to others as ‘having it together.’
This level of education requires that students craft a schedule that works for them. No one is checking in on us and there are few things due. Before, the daily routine of arriving at law school – however hellish a commute it may be – was at least a framework within which we operate. We had subroutines that kept us grounded. We knew when it was time to head to the bistro, and we knew where we would stand with friends in the hall during the break in the lecture. Instead, Zoom has now broken the borders within our minds. Zoom is hard. It divorces our daily lectures and seminars from any immediate, tangible significance. Everything, especially the days, is blended into an unintelligible mess. In other words, too much information and too much technological connection has caused our circuits to overload. When that happens to a computer, it shuts off.
I pity our generation. From a young age we have been fed information that is so discouraging it ought to be criminal. We have been told as a fait accompli that our planet is doomed, our system of government is corrupt, and our employment opportunities are grim. Moreover, we are either perpetrators or victims of oppression and violence, and can never hope to properly situate ourselves due to factors beyond our control like our race, sex, or gender identity. There is nothing we can do to remedy these circumstances; or so we are told. These tragedies swirl in our heads, all while we try to establish careers and live our lives in a dignified manner.
This piece is therefore dedicated to any reader who feels foolish or inept. You are not. You are a human being. We are all people who must grapple with preparing for a career. We are investors in that respect. We are all betting that this will pay off. We are just trying to get to the starting line. We chose to have this be the principal focus of our lives; at least for the immediate present. As such, when the thing that consumes nearly all of our days begins to become amorphous, it instills a great sense of dread and panic. Why am I doing this? Do I still want to be a lawyer? Is the loftiness of the profession diminished by the informality and awkwardness of a Zoom call? These are all relevant and meaningful questions. They do not mean that you are incapable or unworthy. They mean only that we have too much to consider; that now, we have too much information.