Reading as Resistance
I want to make an argument that sounds dramatic but that I believe is literally true: in the contemporary moment, reading books is an act of resistance.
Not metaphorically. Actually.
Here is my reasoning.
The Infrastructure of Distraction
The systems that govern most of our information environment — social media, news apps, recommendation algorithms — are optimized for engagement. And engagement, we have learned, is not the same as understanding.
Engagement is often the enemy of understanding. Quick takes, outrage cycles, infinite scroll, the gamification of attention — these things are specifically designed to prevent the kind of sustained, reflective, patient encounter with ideas that leads to genuine comprehension.
Reading a book is structurally different. A book asks you to sit with something for hours, days, weeks. It asks you to tolerate confusion. It asks you to return, to re-read, to be changed over time rather than instantly.
What Books Do That Nothing Else Does
Books allow you to inhabit another mind at length. Not a curated persona, not a highlight reel — an actual mind, working through problems in real time, making mistakes and correcting them, following its thinking wherever it leads.
This is rare. And it produces something in readers that other forms of media don't: a kind of cognitive intimacy with other ways of seeing.
I have met more people through books than I ever will in person. I understand more about the texture of experience in other times and places from reading than from any other source.
The Practical Question
How do you actually read more, in an environment designed to prevent it?
The honest answer is: by making it a structural commitment rather than a willpower exercise. The phone in the other room. The book on the pillow. The twenty minutes that belong to reading and nothing else.
It doesn't require heroism. It requires modest structural changes and the willingness to be slightly bored at the beginning before the book catches you.