How screens have rewired our brains | Monocle
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02/25
Put pen to paper


Experienced typists write more quickly and efficiently on digital devices than by hand. The technology also helps them to edit, structure, organise and distribute their work. That’s why tapping away on keyboards is usurping the act of putting pen to paper. Handwriting, some say, is withering as though it were a neglected plant or dying out like an endangered species. Its survival can only be ensured through care. But is it something that we must protect – and, if so, why? Even analogue nostalgists surely accept that cultural practices can lose their importance and value over time. We would all rather be operated on with a laser beam than a hand axe.

Handwriting’s decline can be dated back to the mid-1870s, when US gun manufacturer Remington launched the first commercially successful mechanical typewriter. Its benefits were clear – it allowed people to write letters more quickly and legibly – but warnings about the decline of culture and morality followed almost immediately. One sceptic even criticised the technology for threatening masculinity by replacing the pen as a “symbol of male intellectual creation” with a machine. But progress marched on unhindered. “Today we write more for private and professional reasons than ever before,” says Zürich-based linguist Andi Gredig. “We just do it less often with pen and paper.” People still rely on pens, mainly for notes, to-do lists and greeting cards, “as well as for signatures, which are still necessary in many official and legal contexts”, says Gredig. However, they’re less often used for long, coherent texts.

That is unlikely to change. In Switzerland, where I live, primary schools are paying less attention to handwriting than ever before. Calligraphy lessons have long been abandoned and handwriting is no longer assessed. Decoration has ceased to be a priority: the Swiss basic script, which can be written quickly and is designed for clarity, has replaced ornate cursive script in all German-speaking Swiss cantons. Their curriculum, meanwhile, simply requires that pupils “learn to write legibly and fluently in their own handwriting”.

Beat Schwendimann, the head of education at an umbrella organisation of teachers in Switzerland, thinks that this is enough. “Teaching time is limited,” he says. “The range of subjects taught is broader than it used to be, when it consisted of reading, writing and mathematics.” When pupils write at school, it’s no longer exclusively in German or on paper. “They still write by hand but they mostly use a computer or a tablet, as will be the case in their professional lives.”

Finland has received top marks from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s Programme for International Student Assessment, which evaluates educational systems by measuring 15-year-olds’ scholastic performance. In 2016, the country caused a stir when it relegated handwriting in schools in favour of computer skills in order to prepare pupils for the digital world.

“Writing is one of the most complex skills of the human hand,” says Heinz von Niederhäusern, a retired psychomotor therapist from Zürich. “Handwriting is as individual as a fingerprint and deeply personal.” Though its appearance can be greatly affected by the situation of the writer, Von Niederhäusern doubts that one can accurately assess a person’s character from it. In the 1970s, however, graphologists attempted to do just that, as part of the recruitment process for companies – even though graphological reports don’t meet scientific standards.

“Writing is not only a product of cultural evolution but also its driving force,” says Von Niederhäusern. The Sumerians began using cuneiform script and the Egyptians came up with hieroglyphs more than 5,000 years ago. With the advent of the first writing systems, complex societies emerged that recorded their laws and rules. The Phoenicians developed an alphabet with 22 consonants in about 1200 bce. The Greeks adopted it, added vowels, improved its legibility and made writing more precise. This development expanded their communication options and promoted abstract thinking. The Romans then adapted the Greek alphabet and created the Latin one, and spread it throughout their vast empire. It still forms the basis of our writing today.

Medieval monks copied religious and scientific texts, preserving knowledge and promoting intellectual development. Influenced by the ideas of the Enlightenment, public schools that systematically taught reading and writing emerged in Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries. “The extent to which writing and thinking are interrelated is shown by the fact that in some of these schools only reading was taught, not writing,” says Von Niederhäusern. “The authorities considered the latter to be too subversive.”

With the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in the mid-15th century, writing shifted to mechanical processes, which made it easier for people to access written material. Such developments didn’t diminish the magic of writing by hand – that is, until typewriters revolutionised everyday office life and, more recently, smartphones reimagined most other forms of communication.

Von Niederhäusern’s thumb and index finger grasp a pen and hold it like tweezers. The middle finger acts as a support, while the ring and little fingers are slightly curled up to help hold the pen. Joints bend and stretch; a dance begins. With gentle pressure, the wrist performs a pendulum movement inwards, then outwards. The hand and forearm move to the right. Eighteen small and 15 long muscles, 16 joints from the wrist to the shoulder and 24 bones are involved in this seemingly simple task.

“No other organ of movement is as finely tuned and versatile as the hand,” says Von Niederhäusern. With the slightest uncertainty in movement, a line can become wobbly, the letter might tilt or the image become unclear. By contrast, when someone types the letter A or Z on a computer, all it takes is a finger to press on the corresponding key. Even if you hit the key while you’re tipsy, a perfectly formed letter will appear. The typist’s state of mind leaves no trace on the display but this process won’t inspire an idea that might encourage a typing frenzy. That’s the crux of typing quickly on a keyboard. Your brain’s motor and cognitive processes remain inactive until you begin to type.

Children who write letters by hand remember their appearance more easily. They associate the sound of letters or phonemes with the movement and feeling of the pen scratching on the paper. But even subtle things such as the smell of the cleaning product in their classroom become part of their memory. “This creates a fine-meshed neuronal network in the brain,” says Lutz Jäncke, a neuropsychologist at the University of Zürich. When we write with our right hand, it activates the left half of the brain, where motor skills and language are located. All of the information that is needed for writing converges here. “The communication channels are efficient and the brain processes it so quickly that it can link a lot of other information to it,” says Jäncke. When typing, however, the information has to switch between the two halves of the brain because both hands are involved. This is a process that is prone to disruption, in which a lot of information is lost and “fewer connections are made”.

Jäncke compares the neural network in our brain to a fishing net. The tighter it is, the more it catches. This strengthens memory and enables more unexpected associations. Thus a scent of a cleaning product (or the taste of madeleines dipped in tea) can suddenly be linked to a thought. These fine details become anchored in the memory and encourage imaginative ideas. The slowness of writing by hand promotes this process and enhances our thinking, memory and creativity compared to the speed of typing. “Those who write by hand get more out of their lines and circles,” says Jäncke.

All of this is supported by several studies. One of the best known is by two US psychologists, Pam Müller and Daniel Oppenheimer. In 2014 they investigated how students’ handwritten and digital notes affected their learning. When asked about pure factual knowledge, there was no difference between those who wrote by hand and those who typed. But there was a gap when it came to conceptual knowledge, such as the question of how Japan and Sweden differed in terms of social justice. Those who wrote by hand came out on top. This was because they summarised what they had heard in their own words instead of writing things down word for word. “Our lazy brains, which are reluctant to put in much effort, tempt us to do this when we type on the keyboard,” says Jäncke. Even when laptop users were instructed not to take word-for-word notes, they still did worse in terms of conceptual knowledge than those who wrote by hand. What they typed tended to resemble half-digested ideas – not so conducive to learning or independent thinking.

Finns are no longer focusing solely on typing in schools. They have recognised the benefits of handwriting in class. Many schools now combine handwriting and digital writing to support balanced development. Swiss writer Martin Suter experienced something similar in the 1950s, when his school attempted to “correct” his left-handedness. His teacher gave up after the third lesson. Suter was left feeling unhappy about his handwriting. That’s why he almost exclusively used a keyboard from an early age. He wrote journalistic pieces on ball-head typewriters, advertising slogans on a machine with a correction key, a screenplay on an ibm computer and novels on Apple devices. He produced 13 books, all written in the Courier typeface, which resembles typewriter text. Then his wife was diagnosed with cancer. Accompanying her to her examinations, Suter decided that he wanted to carry less paper with him. So he began to revise the novel that he was working on, Melody, in waiting rooms on a hybrid device – a tablet that combines handwriting with the advantages of the digital world. It converts text written with a pen into type and creates, as Suter says, “a distanced typescript”. After reading Melody, his wife said that it was different from what he usually writes. “It was more relaxed, more like a handwritten letter,” he says. He also wrote crime novel Allmen and Mr Weynfeldt in this way.

What’s special about his tablet is the writing surface, which imitates the feel of paper and can only be used to jot down and manage readable information. There’s no internet browser, freeing him from online distractions so he can concentrate fully on his text. He is currently using the device to finish his next novel, Anger and Love, which will be published in April.

He calls his hybrid writing “unplugged”. Is this the future? If it is, it won’t entirely be about handwriting, typing on a keyboard or a hybrid device. Mixed forms will emerge. Artificial intelligence has already made it possible to dictate words straight into text form. This is even faster than typing but requires “an enormous amount of work from the brain”, says neuropsychologist Jäncke. “Everything that you want to say has to be thought out in advance and structured in its basic outline,” he adds. However, AI can also automatically polish or even complete sentences. And yet, though it’s much slower and more time-consuming to formulate your ideas by hand, anyone who forgoes that old-fashioned process altogether will miss out on the chance to capture those thoughts that flower only when you’re writing them down. — L

A version of this article originally appeared in ‘Neue Zürcher Zeitung’. It was translated by Monocle.

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