At the turn of the 19C, the English romantic poet, William Wordsworth wrote a sonnet of this title. In his poem, Wordsworth decried the materialism of that age (a time which seems so organic, measured, and simple to us now) and the alienation from nature which were among his frequent themes. He would likely be saddened, but unsurprised, by our current state.
Here in the early 21C, the world is way too much with us. The “world” of which Wordsworth warned comprised overlapping spheres of affairs, commerce, and “society.” He wasn’t (particularly) talking about the “world” in the sense of globalization or the intrusiveness of technology (whether a telephone ringing or the comments of “Alexa” or “Siri”). Rather, his focus was on the attitudes of the emerging bourgeoisie of late Georgian England. You could say it was a critique of capitalism, avant le lettre.
That spectre is still with us of course. In spades.
However, I take the phrase in a broader and more direct sense. The noise of the world, whether of news, sports, or popular culture, is hemming us in. Yes, this noise exacerbates our distancing from nature (or even a walk in that nature-imitator, the “park”). Its insistence (and not just sonic loudness) crowds out our peace of mind. The newspapers of Wordsworth’s time have blossomed/mushroomed/metastasized into streaming, “social,” and other “media” to such a degree that we must make a sustained effort to escape them. On top of the noise and ubiquity, however, are the aggressive demands for our attention (born of advertising/consumer marketing and sharpened by the overdramatization and hyperbolization of language).
Beyond the incessant clamor of memes and items to be purchased, lies the disorientation of the material world wrought be technology. Wordsworth wrote before the “industrial revolution” had much broad impact on English (much less global) living and working patterns. The Luddites were still a decade in the future for him. But for us, “disruption” is standard. We have not digested the globalization of commerce of the late 20C. The information/robot/AI revolution is, hauntingly, still in its infancy. We’ve gone from Cronkite to cable TV to far more than 500 channels in less than fifty years. We adapt our lives to our appliances. What we work on, how we work and, indeed, why we work are new in every decade.
Families, the traditional bastion of social stability, spin apart geographically; transportation and communications make it seemingly easier to maintain those ties that used to be “in the flesh.” Careers, another mode of continuity, face pressure from the “gig economy,” portable pensions, and job-hunting apps.
There is much freedom and choice in all this; benefits not to be sneezed at. Nor is it useful to imagine a prior world as some pre-lapsarian idyll. But there is a cost; real, if hard to grasp.
Social changes, too, have brought many gains; chipping away at millennia of social injustice. Relationships—whether personal, social, or commercial—are more complex and dynamic. Embedded expectations of who people are and how to relate to them are upset.
All this takes some getting used to, plus there is so much and the pace of change has accelerated so greatly, that it can easily seem overwhelming. This is what I mean by “the world is too much with us.” It is manifest in psychological distress, drug use, political animosity, dis-tethering of established patterns, disorientation, and nihilism. Some seek to reject modernity (or at least the parts of it they fixate upon). Some despair. Some are uncertain. Some disconnect.
Social fabrics are eroding; which would be challenging enough if their weaknesses did not undermine the possibility of political action necessary to even try to wrestle with all this (and the climate crisis, too). Indeed, there is mutually-reinforcing cycle of lack of confidence in joint social/political action and the inability of societies/governments to figure out what to do.
This is hardly a uniquely American problem. It can be seen across the “West” and, in different configurations, among those societies for which modernity is only partial.
Despite Wordsworth’s warning, what we are facing is new, at least in degree. The increased quantity of stress has changed the quality and, as shown in all manner of physical (e.g. polar ice melting) and social (e.g. from discontent to revolution) phenomena, there are discontinuities of response/tipping points.
My point in all this is not to join those in despair/nihilism. Instead, it is to highlight the fundamental and interrelated nature of what we are facing. Superficial and symptomatic solutions (including any number of “normal” political/policy proposals) will only get us so far. Indeed, I don’t hold out too much hope for “macro” solutions; whether governmental or social.
Rather, the best defense against the world being too much with me is to fortify myself and figure out what is really essential in me and work to reject the worldly intrusions/distractions on my attentions and actions. It means managing myself in my slurping from the firehose of media—political, entertainment, gossip. It means constructing activities (hobbies?) that are meaningful to me. It means engaging with other people on a regular, extensive, and substantive basis. It means tamping down “appetites” of whatever variety (not just food/drink). It means centering on myself without being arrogant and greedy. As the old Sufi story says (in the broadest and calmest way): “If I need enough, and want little enough, I shall have delicious food.”
Here in the early 21C, the world is way too much with us. The “world” of which Wordsworth warned comprised overlapping spheres of affairs, commerce, and “society.” He wasn’t (particularly) talking about the “world” in the sense of globalization or the intrusiveness of technology (whether a telephone ringing or the comments of “Alexa” or “Siri”). Rather, his focus was on the attitudes of the emerging bourgeoisie of late Georgian England. You could say it was a critique of capitalism, avant le lettre.
That spectre is still with us of course. In spades.
However, I take the phrase in a broader and more direct sense. The noise of the world, whether of news, sports, or popular culture, is hemming us in. Yes, this noise exacerbates our distancing from nature (or even a walk in that nature-imitator, the “park”). Its insistence (and not just sonic loudness) crowds out our peace of mind. The newspapers of Wordsworth’s time have blossomed/mushroomed/metastasized into streaming, “social,” and other “media” to such a degree that we must make a sustained effort to escape them. On top of the noise and ubiquity, however, are the aggressive demands for our attention (born of advertising/consumer marketing and sharpened by the overdramatization and hyperbolization of language).
Beyond the incessant clamor of memes and items to be purchased, lies the disorientation of the material world wrought be technology. Wordsworth wrote before the “industrial revolution” had much broad impact on English (much less global) living and working patterns. The Luddites were still a decade in the future for him. But for us, “disruption” is standard. We have not digested the globalization of commerce of the late 20C. The information/robot/AI revolution is, hauntingly, still in its infancy. We’ve gone from Cronkite to cable TV to far more than 500 channels in less than fifty years. We adapt our lives to our appliances. What we work on, how we work and, indeed, why we work are new in every decade.
Families, the traditional bastion of social stability, spin apart geographically; transportation and communications make it seemingly easier to maintain those ties that used to be “in the flesh.” Careers, another mode of continuity, face pressure from the “gig economy,” portable pensions, and job-hunting apps.
There is much freedom and choice in all this; benefits not to be sneezed at. Nor is it useful to imagine a prior world as some pre-lapsarian idyll. But there is a cost; real, if hard to grasp.
Social changes, too, have brought many gains; chipping away at millennia of social injustice. Relationships—whether personal, social, or commercial—are more complex and dynamic. Embedded expectations of who people are and how to relate to them are upset.
All this takes some getting used to, plus there is so much and the pace of change has accelerated so greatly, that it can easily seem overwhelming. This is what I mean by “the world is too much with us.” It is manifest in psychological distress, drug use, political animosity, dis-tethering of established patterns, disorientation, and nihilism. Some seek to reject modernity (or at least the parts of it they fixate upon). Some despair. Some are uncertain. Some disconnect.
Social fabrics are eroding; which would be challenging enough if their weaknesses did not undermine the possibility of political action necessary to even try to wrestle with all this (and the climate crisis, too). Indeed, there is mutually-reinforcing cycle of lack of confidence in joint social/political action and the inability of societies/governments to figure out what to do.
This is hardly a uniquely American problem. It can be seen across the “West” and, in different configurations, among those societies for which modernity is only partial.
Despite Wordsworth’s warning, what we are facing is new, at least in degree. The increased quantity of stress has changed the quality and, as shown in all manner of physical (e.g. polar ice melting) and social (e.g. from discontent to revolution) phenomena, there are discontinuities of response/tipping points.
My point in all this is not to join those in despair/nihilism. Instead, it is to highlight the fundamental and interrelated nature of what we are facing. Superficial and symptomatic solutions (including any number of “normal” political/policy proposals) will only get us so far. Indeed, I don’t hold out too much hope for “macro” solutions; whether governmental or social.
Rather, the best defense against the world being too much with me is to fortify myself and figure out what is really essential in me and work to reject the worldly intrusions/distractions on my attentions and actions. It means managing myself in my slurping from the firehose of media—political, entertainment, gossip. It means constructing activities (hobbies?) that are meaningful to me. It means engaging with other people on a regular, extensive, and substantive basis. It means tamping down “appetites” of whatever variety (not just food/drink). It means centering on myself without being arrogant and greedy. As the old Sufi story says (in the broadest and calmest way): “If I need enough, and want little enough, I shall have delicious food.”
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