We had a computer room growing up not too different to the one below:
My brother used the computer mostly for instant messaging, and I, mostly for Club Penguin (I mean Encarta, of course). Our 'computer room' still exists, although without the now-defunct computer which once carried its designated purpose.
That nostalgic atmosphere currently permeating online spaces isn't necessarily new. Nostalgia has historically functioned as a constant antithesis in the midst of significant changes in humanity; in this case, counterbalancing the exponential shifts across our intertwined political, social, and technological spheres.
Beyond merely housing the computer and its separate clunky parts, the computer room represented a clear boundary between online and offline worlds which seems missing these days. This extends to TVs and landlines, where the physical separation of devices enabled clearer mental and existential separation. Each device possessed a unique function and served as clearly established means to specific ends.
Early apps functioned similarly, where makers aimed for users to achieve specific ends rather than pursuing ulterior motives such as maximising user engagement. These lines have become increasingly blurred, especially driven by a constant need for unified platforms i.e. 'everything apps' borne from a persistent principal-agent problem between companies' motives and our desires.
Nostalgia isn't a weakness, but rather our desperate (yet suppressed) yearning for a moment in time which we may never experience again. In this case, the nostalgia likely emanates from a lack of agency or input in these rapid, monumental changes. Rather than simply opt-in, I wish we lived in a world where we could utilise democratic principles to not merely accept or reject technological advancements, but determine the extent to which they're implemented. We're regularly praised for our adaptability and resilience, but perhaps we should resist more often. More than anything, I fear the era of boycotts has arrived too late as we're now wholly dependent on not just apps, but the systems underpinning these apps—the normalisation of ads comes to mind.
Perhaps we could benefit from a techno-democratic era where government functions not just as a regulator post-facto, but as a complementary builder in the apps and products which shape humanity for better or worse. The stakes are far too great to be left in the hands of a few.
The 'computer room' may have disappeared, but our need for boundaries around the digital remains as essential as ever.