The Good Place: Why Culture Doesn’t Need to Be Useful
Few things feel as comforting as pressing play on a show after a long day. However, I’ve noticed that many people discuss media in terms of productivity, distraction, or profit, as if the sole value of a story is whether it sells or wastes our time. We talk about art as if it needs to justify itself, as if feeling moved, inspired, or connected isn’t enough. Consuming media isn’t something to feel guilty about, and I’m not saying that because I spent countless hours watching TV. I’m saying that because historically, storytelling, music, and art helped humans make sense of the world.
Media isn’t a guilty pleasure. It’s how we make sense of being human. Culture isn’t an accessory, but how we transmit values, identity, and meaning. Although a long time ago this meant myths, now we have movies and cat memes instead, but the function remains the same. It’s still about connection.
This Is Us (and Our Brains on Story)
This need for connection isn’t just cultural, it’s biological. Our brains are wired to find meaning in stories because, at some level, we become the stories we consume. In psychology, there’s a concept called neural coupling. When two individuals communicate, their brain activity synchronizes, leading to a shared understanding and a stronger connection between them. This also happens when we consume media. Although we know we’re watching something fake, our brain processes these stories as if they were real experiences. Experiencing this strong connection increases generosity, compassion, and trust.
Similarly, fiction enhances empathy and perspective-taking. This last one is often referred to as the theory of mind and describes our ability to understand that other people have their own mental states. This is an essential cognitive skill for social interaction because it enables us to predict and understand other people’s behavior. When we step into the shoes of a flawed hero or a grieving character, we practice emotional understanding in a safe space. In real life, we rarely get such clear access to someone else’s thoughts, but fiction lets us.
Something that also makes a lot of sense, but we never take the time to even consider, is that narratives let us safely explore complex emotions like fear, love, grief, and moral dilemmas. In a way, stories are mental simulations that we can use to practice the complexities of life. This means we don’t have to go through the real thing, but since we still identify with the characters and what they’re going through, we still analyze what we’d do if we were in the same position as them.
Into the Flow-Verse
Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi coined the term flow to refer to the psychological state of total engagement and focus to the point that you lose track of time. People often experience the flow state when there’s a balance between challenge and skill: when something is difficult enough that it demands focus, but not so hard that it’s anxiety-inducing. There are different ways to induce this flow state, but one of the most common ones is when you play games or engage in art. These activities are particularly engaging because they give us constant feedback, a key ingredient in maintaining the flow state. During flow, the prefrontal cortex temporarily quiets down, which explains the loss of self-consciousness and time awareness.
I find everything around this topic fascinating because Csikszentmihalyi’s research shows that people don’t experience the highest levels of happiness when they’re resting, but when they are deeply engaged in something meaningful. That can be playing music, reading, or gaming. It’s interesting to note that “leisure” doesn’t just mean something passive and lazy, but active and fulfilling. Passive distractions like doomscrolling on your phone or background television are a waste of time. The important part is to consume media intentionally while we focus intently on something that challenges us and keeps us active.
Moreover, here’s an argument in favor of video games. In her book Reality is Broken, Jane McGonigal argues that playing games makes us happier because they provide clear goals, feedback, and a clear sense of progress, things that real life doesn’t have. While certain psychological mechanisms featured in games have been used to manipulate people, they can also turn them into powerful tools for learning and motivation. For instance, there are studies suggesting that playing Tetris or The Legend of Zelda is good for our mental health. The key here is to stay away from the most manipulative experiences or the ones that induce anxiety.
Flow is also linked to creativity, motivation, and, more importantly, happiness. Although it’s easy to dismiss media as “escapism”, it also offers deep and restorative concentration. The goal of consuming media isn’t always to escape, but to momentarily avoid daily stressors to recover mentally. What we sometimes describe as “escapism” is one of the few moments we stay fully present. In those moments of full immersion, we aren’t consuming, but participating in the experience of being alive.
The Truman Show Effect
In those moments of full immersion, we aren’t consuming, but participating in the experience of being alive. But what happens when those moments become our main form of meaning? When the only places we feel truly engaged are fictional? That’s not just about personal escape; it’s cultural substitution. The things that once grounded us (religion, community, even parties) are disappearing, and stories have stepped in to fill the gap. The problem isn’t that those institutions are going away. The problem is that we’re not replacing them with anything worthy, with one exception: media. Media fills the social and emotional gap occupied by those structures. Of course, it’s not always the best replacement since going to church or getting married gave us an excuse to socialize, and consuming media isn’t always social, which leads me to the next point.
Parasocial relationships have emerged. This is when you have a one-sided relationship with a media figure. For instance, some people feel like a YouTuber is their friend because they use a conversational tone and they feel connected to their message. The YouTuber isn’t really aware of that relationship, but for the person on the other end of the screen, they feel like they’re friends. Parasocial relationships come with their own set of problems, such as negative self-comparison or, in extreme cases, stalking. Of course, this is a longer topic than I might explore in a future essay, but for now, let’s stick with the best parts of parasocial relationships: they help us fulfill basic social needs, identity exploration, and promote well-being.
The Pursuit of Happyness Busyness
At some point, we collectively started thinking about rest and leisure as moral failure. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when that happened. Some experts claim that this idea originated during the Protestant Reformation in the 16th and 17th centuries, where idleness became the same as sin. This exacerbated during the Industrial Revolution, where, for the first time in history, time literally became money. All of that led to the hustle culture of the 21st century, which equates worth with constant motion.
To be clear, every new medium (including novels, jazz, television, and video games triggered moral panic. But how we perceive media often depends on societal changes. For instance, the rise of consumer capitalism after WWII made rest not just unproductive, but also unprofitable. This coincided with marketing campaigns that glorified busyness as a marker of success. And here we are, feeling guilty about watching an episode of Seinfeld because it’s not making us any money. In the end, that guilt around media is cultural conditioning, not evidence of waste.
Game of Meaning: The Screen as Our Modern Campfire
In the end, the media is where people gather to share emotions and meaning. We’re storytelling animals. When religion or tradition fades, we fill that need through culture. Stories give us collective experiences, which create the sense of belonging that’s part of the human experience. It once meant gathering around the glow of a fire. It now means watching the finale of a prestige television show or singing in unison at a concert of your favorite band.
Modern myths (superheroes, pop icons, and even shared memes) bind people across backgrounds. These stories serve the same purpose as ancient myths. The Greeks had Zeus and Athena; we have Batman and Beyoncé. Both are ways of expressing our ideals and fears in human form. Regardless of their origin, these characters and icons carry moral and emotional meaning. They teach resilience, courage, identity, and belonging.
We’re all different and have dissimilar personalities and tastes, but when we share that simple thing, we experience something together, and we feel part of something bigger than ourselves. Examples of meaningful cultural events include Avengers: Endgame, Barbie, Oppenheimer, and even The Office. In other words, media becomes a new form of collective memory, a mirror of our shared anxieties and hopes. Now, we have more excuses than ever to be divided, but television, movies, and games connect us globally, creating a shared symbolic world.
If stories once helped us survive the wilderness, today they help us survive ourselves. Which brings me to one last defense: maybe media isn’t just a reflection of life. Maybe it’s one of the few things that still makes life feel meaningful.
Everything Everywhere All at Once: The Case for Embracing Media
Maybe the mistake was thinking that pressing play was an act of passivity. What we call “consumption” is, participation in empathy, imagination, and collective meaning. When we watch, read, or listen, we’re not wasting time; we’re keeping alive the same instinct that once drew us around the fire to tell stories about gods and monsters.
Media develops empathy, identity, and emotional intelligence. It offers symbolic immortality because our stories outlive us. Shared narratives keep us connected in an atomized world, and through them, we remember that being human isn’t about constant motion or measurable productivity. It’s about feeling something real together.
So if culture once began around the campfire, maybe it continues every time we press play. Because in the end, we’re still doing the same thing we’ve always done: telling stories to remember who we are.
