During a recent vacation, I re-read Neil Postman’s classic of media criticism, Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. It’s still remarkably relevant—especially its take on the deluge of disconnected, decontextualized information we all grapple with daily. This deluge is now the context in which all business communication–and arguably all human communication–takes place. And Postman perceived its dangers decades ago, through an analogy with peekaboo.

All Media Are Not Created Equal

First published in 1985, Postman’s classic warns about the impact of television on society. Like Marshall McLuhan before him, Postman argues that the medium through which we convey information fundamentally shapes the message we wind up conveying. Printed books (one medium) convey information and ideas in ways that television, tweets, and Reddit threads (three other media) simply do not. And the medium-constrained information we consume inevitably shapes how we understand the reality it represents.

Sidebar: If you doubt the extent to which “the medium is the message,” try sending an important apology to your wife via text message or submitting your resume by reading it into a voicemail.

In principle, no medium is inherently better than any other. Each conveys information differently and has its own strengths and weaknesses. But Postman makes no bones about the effects he believes “televisual” media have on society: “the content of much of our public discourse,” he says, “has become dangerous nonsense.” 

Because television communicates primarily through fast-moving images, sound bites, and content designed to amuse, the medium emphasizes brevity over depth and sensationalism over nuance. It insists that complex ideas be simplified, leading to superficial understanding of crucial issues—or, worse, bombastic misunderstanding that masquerades as truth. 

Above and beyond all that, television has conjured up what Postman calls “the peekaboo world.”

Now This … and That … And the Other

According to Postman, the rapid growth of electronic media in the 20th century effectively “called into being a new world, where now this event, now that, pops into view for a moment then vanishes again. It is a world without much coherence or sense … a world that is, like the child’s game of peekaboo, entirely self contained.” 

For Postman, nothing typifies this peekaboo world like the newscaster’s phrase “Now … this.” To wit:

With its “Now … This” mentality, the peekaboo world overflows with expression but lacks reflection. It consists of an infinite sequence of information tidbits, of images and soundbites beamed in from anywhere and anywhen, each disconnected from the others and all adding up to … not much.

Fast-Forward to the Multiplatform Peekaboo World

Since Postman published his book, the peekaboo world he worried about has become ever more central to our informational lives. Many of us now accept a digital version of it as natural and even inevitable.

We no longer wait for the nightly newscasters, of course. These days, we carry our televisual feeds in our pockets and peer down at them every few seconds—as the speed of “Now … This” keeps increasing. Meanwhile, the digital media we rely on continue to structure our communications and interactions in ways that largely preclude deep examination and discussion.

The net of this is striking: Much of what we perceive about the world now reaches us through a multiplatform game of informational peekaboo–and we rarely stop to think about the weirdness of this fact.

Played across our phones and other “smart” devices, this perpetual game of peekaboo fundamentally shapes our perception of current events and history, of society and culture, of our colleagues and customers and competitors. It structures nearly everything we see, other than what happens directly in front of our faces, yet it has no underlying logic or rationale. Its driving force is an assortment of competing algorithms, each designed to feed us more of what it thinks we want to see. It doesn’t prioritize accuracy or meaning or truth, just more views.

And we wonder why we feel so uncertain, overwhelmed, and confused.

We have more information than ever at our fingertips. But that is not, it turns out, the same thing as knowing better. On the contrary, when all we have is more information–without context, without clear purpose, without guiding insights–real understanding becomes harder, not easier. And so does anything approaching true communication.

Our Perpetual Peekaboo Predicament

The implication for those of us seeking to communicate is clear: Before we write or say a word, we should presume that everyone we’re trying to reach is already engaged in an all-consuming game of informational peekaboo. Whether they know it or not, the people around us are drowning in an a “Now … This” deluge, just like we are. And part of our job, whether we like it or not, is to help each other manage it. 

We can do that, I’d say, in basically two ways:   

1. Make the most of each peekaboo moment. Recognizing our collective predicament, we can work to capture one another’s attention more thoughtfully and use it more wisely. Typically, that would mean providing quick context and clear direction in all our communications, as well as prioritizing sincerity, simplicity, and even (when possible) silence. As every parent knows, in a game of peekaboo, smiles are every bit as important as sounds. Patience, humility, and deep listening go a long way, too.
    

2. Be clear about when peekaboo just won’t do. None of us alone can stop the “Now … This” deluge, but all of us can understand its serious limitations. We can reckon with the fact that some media just won’t carry some messages, that some topics require lengthy and undistracted engagement, that healthy discussion and debate are rarely built on knee-jerk reactions, and that information alone–without context, clear purpose, and guiding insights–is never enough to solve hard problems. We can then say to one another, “This is no time for playing peekaboo. Let’s get together and really think this through.”

We can even, perhaps, afford each other a bit more grace and space and time for reflection and personal connection. We can worry less about notifications and more about getting to know. In the end, we can only ever hope to persuade the people who take the time to listen to us—and if we want them to listen to us, we will also have to listen to them.

Weekly Word: It’s Weird, Right?

Thanks mainly to Tim Walz, the word “weird” is having a heyday—one that’s tied (weirdly?) to the term’s Shakespearean past.

The modern word "weird" derives from the Old English "wyrd," meaning fate or destiny. Old Norse mythology included "weird sisters" (called Nons) who controlled human destiny.

Shakespeare picked up on the Old Norse nomenclature, using "weird" in Macbeth to describe three witches who can see the future and who recognize that “something wicked this way comes” when they see the play’s title character. (Spoiler alert: In Shakespeare’s play, it isn’t fate that’s wicked; it’s the murderous man. Hmmm … )

In any event, "weird" shifted over time from meaning "fate" to "supernatural" to just plain "strange," arriving at the modern meaning by the 19th century. More recently, the term has evolved further. Especially among younger folks, "weird" can now be used as a compliment, as it's come to mean unique or intriguingly different. Though not, it would seem, in Wisconsin, where people say “weird” is still … well, weird.

The lesson here for current word wielders? Never underestimate the power of a simple, familiar word to cut through—and potentially reframe—a complex debate. Sometimes you need to win an argument by amassing data and working every possible response angle. Other times, the best approach is just to say “That’s weird.”

One-Question Quiz: Eyeballs for Sale

Everyone who’s interested in understanding the forces driving the ongoing explosion in digital information should have a sense of the dollars at stake. So …

What was the total size of the online advertising marketplace in 2023?

A. 1.2 billion dollars

B. 12 billion dollars

C. 122 billion dollars

D. 225 billion dollars

(Scroll down to find the answer).

Startling Stat: Teens and Their Screens

According to research by Common Sense Media, teens spend roughly 8.5 hours per day using digital media.

That doesn’t include homework.

Answer: D. 225 billion dollars - Check it here.