Technology hates it, but friction has its upside.

For the last 25 years I’ve been working in the moral and spiritual formation of young adults, mostly on campus as part of my work for InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Every day I reflect on the habits that influence our sense of connection and friendship. What I’ve observed is that right now we’re more connected than we’ve ever been.

We’re also lonelier than ever.

One of the biggest achievements of the digital revolution is the elimination of friction. Technology has allowed us to find what, or whom, we seek in a matter of seconds. It never loses its enthusiasm for connecting, for searching or for providing. And it’s cheap. If the 1971 Volkswagen Beetle developed at the same pace the microchip improved, as Intel’s CEO Brian Krzanich pointed out, today’s Beetle would cost 4 cents, go 300,000 miles per hour, and get a million miles per gallon of gas. Digital technologies accelerate through eliminating friction. Friction, as the saying goes, is the enemy.

But what if friction is good for us? The ancient Hebrew origin story seems to think it is. One human alone, even with God’s direct engagement, is ‘not good’ (Genesis 2:18) So God creates an ezer kenegdo, a helper (ezer) to be opposite him (kenegdo), a helper to oppose. It isn’t that the human creature needs help; what he needs is an opposing person, an opposing perspective, an opposing will. Like wooden planks, one can’t stand upright, but two can, if they’re pushing into one another. It’s the opposition — or tension — that enables them to support the other. In this ancient vision of human thriving, we need opposition, tension, and friction.

Recently an acquaintance shared a story about getting separated from her friend Ben while traveling in Europe. He’d missed the Chunnel train. He’d not checked into the youth hostel as they’d planned. Cell phones weren’t common in those days. “I was watching the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, when I heard Ben calling my name,” she says. Ben had found her in a city of over seven million people. “I knew you would be somewhere royal,” he told her.

This story made me wonder whether, if I had to find my daughter in Manhattan, I would be able to do it by knowing what she loves. It’s easy to watch her cell phone dot and know she’s on her way home from school or ballet. It eliminates the need to ask, “Which way do you walk to the train? Why that route? What do you like about it?” There’s a good possibility my teenage daughter might resist or resent such inquiries, and there will be friction in the house. But there’s also a chance for deeper understanding. I worry that frictionless efficiency is replacing relationships with information — It’s easier to know about her than to know her. Is this tradeoff worth it?

It seems counterintuitive to suggest that interpersonal friction is good for us. Many of our holiday get-togethers seem oriented around avoiding conflict or even strained relations. But what if the hot button issues we’re trying to avoid are actually the result of our frictionless information loops? Our digital streams deliver information tailored to our existing preferences and get us out of the habit of interpreting opposing perspectives. It becomes easy to assume those who don’t think like we do are our enemies, when in fact it’s our truest allies who create healthy friction, pushing back on our assumptions and offering alternative points of view.

What if friction is good for us? One human alone, even with God's direct engagement, is 'not good' (Gen. 2:18). So God creates an ezer kenegdo ('an opposite helper') to oppose. (1/3) Share on X

Like wooden planks, one can’t stand upright, but two can, if they’re pushing into one another. It's the opposition — or tension — that enables them to support the other. (2/3) Share on X

It isn’t that the human creature needs help; what he needs is an opposing person, an perspective, and will. In this ancient vision of human thriving, we need the friction of another. (3/3) Share on X

Among the best examples of the power of friction are jokes. The Anglican monk and theologian H. A. Williams observed, “For when I laugh at myself, I accept myself, and when I laugh at others in genuine mirth, I accept them.” Humor requires a shared experience, a shared understanding. But humor also requires a sudden, sometimes forceful, change in perspective. We call it, ‘a punch line’ for a reason.

Singing together is far better at creating connection than streaming music through earphones or over a speaker. Singing together can also be awkward, tiring, and discordant. It’s not effortless. This is good because it requires us to collaborate and resolve the tension. The better people get at singing or making music together, the more they feel connected and part of something bigger.

Digital technology is reshaping our relationships, connecting us like never before. And it’s simultaneously contributing to our loneliness. Perhaps highly personalized AI companion programs have a role to play, but after watching the young people around me, I’m persuaded that we need to recover a vision of human wellbeing that includes a ‘helper to oppose.’ Learning to interpret interpersonal friction as good for us might be the first step. Dealing with friction may help us become a bit more human and a lot more humane. Sometimes the static caused by friction gives us a shock. Other times it makes things stick together.

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Learning to interpret interpersonal friction as good for us may help us become more human and more humane. Sometimes the static caused by friction makes things stick together. Share on X