The belief that humanity is getting dumber isn’t new. In 1967, Charles Bukowski described the feeling as living among “men without eyes, men without voices… men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideals.”

Even in the first and second centuries AD, the Roman poet Juvenal lamented that people had become shallow and easily distracted: “They reveal their anxiety for two things only: Bread and circuses.”

It’s easy to blame smartphones, the internet, and junk food, but I believe a deeper issue underpins the news and memes about our collective shortening attention spans and the so-called death of reading and thinking.

In the 1980s, the moral philosopher James Flynn identified a phenomenon, later termed the "Flynn Effect," where average IQ scores steadily increased over generations. For example, if we compared IQ test results from a group of Baby Boomers (born 1946–1964) tested at age 20 with those of Millennials (born 1981–1996) tested at the same age, we can expect Millennials’ scores to be noticeably higher. To be clear, this doesn't mean that Millennials are inherently smarter or more capable than Baby Boomers, but that a difference in IQ scores exists favoring the younger generation.

Flynn attributed this to changes in thinking from concrete, practical reasoning to more abstract and systematic thinking. Unlike earlier generations, who processed the world through hands-on experiences, modern individuals are trained to think hypothetically and “[take] the hypothetical seriously, that is, [wonder] about what might have been rather than what is.”

To illustrate, Flynn refers to Alexander Luria's studies of individuals in pre-scientific societies, where formal education and exposure to abstract reasoning were minimal. Luria found that people in these environments often rejected hypothetical questions because they viewed them as irrelevant to their daily lives. When asked what crows and fish have in common, for example, one respondent rejected grouping them as animals, reasoning instead that, “I can eat a fish, but I can’t eat a crow.” Another, presented with the statement, “There are no camels in Germany. Hamburg is a city in Germany. Are there camels in Hamburg?” insisted that if Hamburg was a large enough village, camels may be found there, because the individual has always lived in villages with camels. Flynn extends this point by reflecting on his own family. During the civil rights movement of the 1950s, Flynn recalled challenging his father’s racial biases by asking, “How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and were Black?” His father, an Irish-American born in 1885 and who left formal schooling at age 12, dismissed the question as absurd, responding, “Who have you ever known who woke up in the morning and turned Black?” Flynn explained that earlier generations were deeply rooted in the concrete realities of their time, treating moral and cultural norms as fixed truths rather than principles that could be reimagined or universalized.

This contrasts sharply with later generations, where 80% of Americans had a high school diploma by 2012, compared to just 9% in 1910. The rise of knowledge work has also increased the demand for abstract reasoning.

But now, a reversal of this trend has appeared. Between 2006 and 2018, cognitive ability scores declined in verbal reasoning, abstract problem-solving, and spatial skills.

While they didn’t examine why exactly this decline happened, the study’s authors said there is no shortage of theories in the scientific community, including poor nutrition, worsening health, media exposures, and changes to education. Then, of course, there was the pandemic, which is credited for more negative dips in people’s cognitive functions.

I do think the above factors played roles in humanity’s declining intellect. But why are these things happening especially in the age of information?

Why do modern humans, despite being better educated and more informed than their great-grandparents, increasingly fall victim to fake news? Is it the abundance of information that ends up overwhelming rather than enlightening us? Is it the speed at which information spreads, which is why present media (both traditional and independent) prioritizes emotion and sensationalism over accuracy and nuance?

The beginnings of a compelling perspective surfaced as I re-read Jack London’s 1909 novel, Martin Eden, which is about a proletarian autodidact struggling to become a writer.

In one scene, Martin works at a hotel laundry alongside his co-worker, Joe, pressing hundreds of shirts each day. The job is relentless, starting just after six in the morning and sometimes stretching until midnight as Martin and Joe race to keep up with the endless stream of shirts.

“All Martin's consciousness was concentrated in the work. Ceaselessly active, head and hand, an intelligent machine, all that constituted him a man was devoted to furnishing that intelligence. There was no room in his brain for the universe and its mighty problems…”

At that point, Martin, a former sailor who had taught himself to read and write, took the laundry job to make ends meet. He planned to write and submit short stories to publications after his shift and on the weekends.

But on his days off, instead of writing, Martin finds himself too exhausted to do anything but sleep. Within weeks, Martin begins joining his co-worker Joe, drinking on the weekends to cope. After three months of this, Martin “saw, in clear illumination, the beast he was making of himself − not by the drink, but by the work. The drink was an effect, not a cause. It followed inevitably upon the work, as the night follows upon the day.”

Joe, in his inebriated stupor, often retold Martin a story. It was about that one time Joe contracted typhoid fever. For two months and a half, Joe was confined in the hospital and he didn’t need to work. “It was beautiful,” Joe reminisced. “I never wanted to drink when I was in hospital. Funny, ain't it?”

Martin eventually developed the theory that the working class didn’t drink excessively because they were lazy or alcoholic (as respectable, upper-middle-class society believed), but because alcohol was their only coping mechanism from the mental numbness and exhaustion of industrial labor.

Modern science tells us that there are genetic and psychological factors to alcoholism, so it’s not exclusively caused by one’s work (or environment). But I think Martin’s theory holds water, especially when one looks at today’s average worker.

By “average worker”—I mean anyone who can’t afford to stop working, even if (and especially if) they hate their jobs.

The paycheck and client chasers. The hustlers always needing a side gig on top of their day jobs to afford all their bills. The individuals whose main goal each month is to earn enough to eat, sleep, feed their offspring if they have some, and go out once in a while (or afford enough subscriptions or games to stay in all day). There is no conclusive data that the average worker lives like this, but since the majority of US adults wouldn’t pay for a $1,000 expense from their savings, while 31% of Americans aged 18-59 have no emergency fund, then I think the rough estimation is justified.

Modern work may look different, but its cognitive toll is similar. Today’s workers are drowning in emails, meetings, and digital to-do lists. Even those in knowledge work, whose jobs rely on intelligence and problem-solving, the roles aren’t that different from Martin’s job which is obsessed with quotas, deadlines, and “maximizing shareholder value.”

Most Americans are employed in retail, health and personal care, and general operations roles. Europeans, meanwhile, mostly work in food preparation, personal service, and IT. In developing countries, agriculture and industries like mining and construction dominate the workforce. But in the Philippines, where I’m from, outsourced labor is one of the top options for college-educated workers.

When I turned 18, I joined a call center so I could buy a camera to further my filmmaking dreams. At the time, I was a sophomore in university, in a tiny mountain town, and I became a "Global Sales Specialist" for an international hotel chain. My main job was to convince Americans who called our 1-800 number to book as many rooms at the highest possible price in any of our company’s hotel brands. Because of the time difference, I had to work the night shift. It was good for my classes since that meant I could attend them during the day. But it was bad for my health because my body wasn't designed to stay up all night, five nights a week.

It was one of the highest paying jobs, with great health benefits, that one could get in my city. It was the best employment available, and the irony was hard to ignore. Here I was in university, analyzing Lav Diaz’s 10-hour film, discussing Plato’s The Republic, debating the ethics of modern journalism—yet the best local opportunity for me lay in accommodating a caller looking to book a room for under $160 in New York City, ideally just a few miles from SoHo, and was there any way I could find them free parking? The height of my aspirations at the company was to luck into a call with a tourist group or conference attendees booking ten rooms in a single call. That way, I could hit my daily quota faster and earn a raffle entry for prizes like two bags of Lay’s chips or a slice of pizza, and, maybe, a promotion to a slightly higher-paid, non-call position because talking to 50-80 Americans each night, every night, was making me incredibly sick of the English language.

This is the reality for countless people in typical modern jobs.

Whether it’s the retail worker enduring another Karen, the Fiverr freelancer juggling endless client demands, or the lowly-paid office employee answering emails at midnight, these roles rely heavily on the brain's capacity for problem-solving, but they stunt one’s mental space for personal introspection and growth with the low ceiling of possibility inherent to them. As Flynn posited in his research, people’s cognitive abilities improved because their environment and lifestyle required them to do so. The nature of average jobs does the opposite.

Even AI doesn’t seem to help: Three out of four workers report that AI has reduced their productivity, with most feeling overwhelmed and burned out. The existence of AI tools can also make employers and clients expect workers to analyze larger amounts of data and maintain an ever-increasing pace of productivity. Not to mention the growing argument that over-reliance on AI is lessening our ability to think.

Without the time or energy to ruminate and ideate, people often turn to whatever numbs their fatigue. Like Martin and Joe drinking on their day off, most workers opt to scroll social media, binge Netflix, or play Genshin Impact after a long day’s work, instead of picking up a book or creating art.

I believe the meaning of life is to have a calling or vocation—a deep, purposeful, personal pursuit that aligns with one’s talents, values, and passions—and work towards achieving it. When one successfully pursues their vocation, they live a purposeful life with lasting happiness.

In the absence of or inability to find and pursue a vocation, humans will need to fill that void with something else.

In my call center days, I had colleagues who talked about hobbies they used to have or dreams they’d put on hold. But the demands of work, compounded by the energy-draining night shifts, left all of us with little capacity to revisit those aspirations. It is easy to fall into a routine where rest becomes indistinguishable from escapism, and any effort to pursue something greater seems almost impossible.

This is the case for all average work in all generations. But what makes it especially worse in the information age is the constant connectedness inherent to modern living.

If you were a farmer in the 19th century or, like Martin Eden’s proletarian peers, a factory worker in the 1900s, even if you worked twelve or sixteen hours a day, you could completely disconnect from your job once you “clocked out.” But today, with your phone in hand, your work can be with you from the moment you wake up to the moment you sleep. After sending out emails or “checking” up on various notifications, it's very much natural to fiddle one’s way into Instagram Reels, TikTok, or Substack Notes and spend hours scrolling there without meaning to.

The lack of constant connection to one’s work has at least allowed the uneducated, menial workers of the past centuries to not be as dopamine-addicted as the modern human.

What would it take to build a world where rest, reflection, and dreaming aren’t luxuries we only earn through illness or exhaustion?

The creator economy is often presented as an escape—a way to reclaim control over one’s time and income. But not everyone can be an influencer. Besides, is “influencing” the most sustainable path to fulfillment for the majority of people?

The paradox of the creator economy is that while it offers an alternative to traditional jobs, it often replicates the same numbing pressures. The pursuit of engagement metrics and algorithmic success turns passion into another grind. Worse, creators often need to stay online longer to engage with followers.

During my last months at the call center, I was hospitalized for stress-related issues. For the first time in over a year, I had no work, no school, no obligations. The company health card covered all my expenses and, for a brief period, I was free.

I remember sitting by the hospital window, watching sunlight spill across the white linens of my tiny room, feeling an odd sense of gratitude. Like Joe in Martin Eden, I realized that what made those hospital days “beautiful” wasn’t simply the temporary absence of exhaustion, but also the freedom from mind-numbing cognitive work.