The Internet Takes the Amazon

But is public outrage misplaced?

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There’s a remarkable story in the New York Times this week. Remote Indigenous villages in the Amazon have recently been connected to the Internet, thanks to new Starlink satellites. The Marubo people have long lived in communal huts along the Ituí River. Their communities are spread hundreds of miles apart, and some can take a week to reach.

They have not lived in complete isolation; the story describes villagers who own cellphones for taking pictures or communicating when they visit cities. Some have lived outside the Amazon, even holding corporate jobs before choosing to return to the forest. The tribes requested Starlink, petitioning Congress and eventually connecting with a private American donor to fund the installation.

Not surprisingly, the arrival of the Internet 9 months ago has had a profound effect. Some things are good, like connecting with family in faraway places, educational opportunities, and being able to make emergency calls for potentially fatal snake bites. But these conveniences come at a cost.

One woman, 73-year-old Tsianama Marubo, told reporter Jack Nicas, “When it arrived, everyone was happy. But now, things have gotten worse.”

She was kneading jenipapo berries to make a black body paint and wearing ropes of jewelry made from snail shells. Lately, the youth had become less interested in making such dyes and jewelry, she said. “Young people have gotten lazy because of the internet,” she said. “They’re learning the ways of the white people.” Then she paused and added, “But please don’t take our internet away.”

In the accompanying photos, phones glow like fireflies in the darkness as solitary individuals scroll on their devices at night. They show young girls in traditional body paint huddled over newly formed Facebook and Instagram accounts. They said they like talking to strangers online. One father said his three sons are now playing first-person shooter games, which worries him.

One Marubo leader said families are so distracted by their devices, they’re not talking anymore. And young men are sharing pornography in group chats, “a stunning development for a culture that frowns on kissing in public.” An elder said they’re seeing more aggressive sexual behaviours.

Tribe leaders have implemented time limits in response to the all-consuming addictive nature of the Internet—2 hours in the morning, 5 hours at night, all day Sunday. This was necessary because, otherwise, work didn’t happen. As one man said, “It changed the routine so much that it was detrimental. In the village, if you don’t hunt, fish and plant, you don’t eat.”

Outrage and Optimism

As always, when I read a controversial story, I scroll through the comments. Most consisted of indignant outrage. “This is colonization by another name.” “Bring them hospitals, vaccines, antibiotics, books—but not cellphones.” “The casual destruction of something beautiful.”

A few were optimistic. “This will be a positive change for the community if well managed… They asked for the Internet. They should be able to make the best of it.”

This is an unsolvable debate. People will always be split between two camps—one that laments the “despoiling” of those living in what we like to imagine as a paradise frozen in time, and one that insists these tribes have the right to access and enjoy the same things we do, and who are we to deprive them, especially if they’re asking for it?

I don’t have an answer. This is a deeply complex issue that is not black-and-white.

I am not anti-tech. I am not a Luddite. I am leery of romanticizing a bygone, pre-Internet time when we couldn’t find phone numbers or business names, had to mail letters and wait for responses that sometimes never came, and were forced to travel for jobs that required a daily physical presence. The Internet has enabled my entire career as a writer and editor, and it lets me work from home while raising my family in a small town, which I love.

So, I tend to feel a bit uncomfortable with the idea that others should be deprived of a technology that has benefited me so greatly. But I also recognize that it’s a powerful, potentially harmful technology that must be used with great care to avoid it undermining many of the good things in life.

What About Our Own ‘Tribe’?

What I can’t stop thinking about in relation to this Amazon story, however, is how Western readers’ reactions to it highlight our own society’s astoundingly hypocritical relationship with technology. Comments reveal that we recognize what excessive screen time has done to us—and we do not wish that upon the Marubo tribe—but then we act helpless when it comes to ourselves. We throw up our hands and describe it as inevitable, unavoidable, irreversible.

If we believe unlimited Internet access and screen time to be so wrong and so detrimental, then why aren’t we adjusting course at home?

One parent’s comment jolted me more than any other: “These [Indigenous] cultures should be protected, not invaded with the same tech that has stymied the developing minds of our young, including my 18-year-old son.” I was tempted to reply, “Worry less about protecting Indigenous cultures, and start protecting your son! That is your most important job.”

I think we like the idea of oases existing in the world that have not been sickened by a digital overdose. We want to believe that reprieve (common sense?) prevails somewhere, even if it’s far away. Why? Perhaps because it absolves us of the responsibility to fix our own illness.

I wonder if there’s a weird subconscious sense that, as long as someone else is “doing it right,” even if that’s a distant Amazonian tribe, there’ll be an example for others to follow and learn from. By extension, we rich, plugged-in, screen-addled Westerners don’t have to be the ones to clean up our act, pull up our socks, reject the uber-convenient technology that is compromising our quality of life, because someone else will carry the torch forward for the next generation.

In a way, we’re passing the buck to the tribes, hoping that they will be the exemplars, the bearers of the message that traditionally disconnected communities are more connected in the ways that really matter. It’s a sneaky way for us to avoid having to do the “dirty” work of reckoning, holding ourselves accountable, and repairing what’s been done.

Instead of railing against the contamination of “pure” Amazonian tribes, why wouldn’t we take this story as a wake-up call to turn inward, look at the “tribe” that exists around us, implement limits, and rebuild what we once had and can have again, maybe with the added bonus of an Internet connection?

This doesn’t mean doing away with the Internet altogether. I say over and over again that I am not anti-tech. This is about recognizing tech’s power and treating it with respect, as a tool, not a toy. But we can effect far more change within our home environments than in some distant rainforest in another hemisphere. We’d do well to redirect our indignation toward repairing what’s been broken here.

Our children here in Canada and the U.S. are just as deserving of a screen-free childhood as the beautiful little girl photographed in the story, Voa Marubo, with her tiny pet monkey. Indeed, these are the children that most of us can help—and so we should.

In the talks I give about digital minimalism, I urge parents to realize that it’s never too late. You can revisit the rules and norms surrounding technology in your home. You can say, “I’m no longer comfortable with this, based on new information I’ve acquired. I want something better for us.”

But this requires confronting our own out-of-control screen time habits, and that’s something few adults are willing to do.

You Might Also Like:

It’s the Adults, Not the Kids
Big Things Don’t Cancel Out Little Things
Yes, Please Talk to My Kid

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Reading Recommendations:

• The Internet Is a Wasteland, So Give Kids Better Places to Go (NYT): A few months old, but I thought this was a great read from Michelle Goldberg, especially when she said, “One of my favorite days of the year is my Brooklyn neighborhood’s block party, when the street is closed to traffic and the kids play in packs, most ignored by their tipsy parents. It demonstrates how the right physical environment can encourage offscreen socializing” (my emphasis). Yes! It’s reminiscent of my post, Bring Back Neighbourliness.

• How a Connecticut middle school won the battle against phones (WP): Finally, a detailed practical strategy for solving the issue of phones in schools, unlike Ontario’s insipid plan for September—and, perhaps most intriguing, honest reactions from students and their parents. As one 14-year-old said, “People thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m going to miss so much.’ You don’t miss anything. Nothing important is happening outside school.”

• The Fine Art of Underscheduling (Slate): “Do what’s truly going to make your family happy,” writes Anna Nordberg. “If that is competitive sports, like it is for many families I know, that is wonderful… And if your kid wants to sit home making houses for stuffed mice out of cardboard, that’s fantastic too. There’s a college essay in there somewhere.”

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In Book News:

A reminder that Childhood Unplugged has been shortlisted for the 2023 Foreword Indies Awards in the Family & Relationships category. The winners will be announced on June 5.

If you’ve read Childhood Unplugged, please leave a review or rating on Amazon! This is enormously helpful to boosting visibility.

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