In October of 1992, when the world wide web was just a few years old, and the idea of
streaming terabytes of pornography was just a far-fetched dream, a presidential candidate
had an interesting idea: “I will have a unique mandate... that we're going to inform
the people in detail on the issues, through an electronic town hall, so that they really
know what's going on.”
Ross Perot wasn’t talking about the internet, exactly.
He wanted to use technology to revolutionize democracy.
For instance, televised town halls or debates could allow viewers to chime in with their
phones, Press 1 for agree, 2 for disagree.
Like many others, Perot believed new technology could break down barriers between decision-makers
and the average citizen.
“Now, all these fellows with thousand-dollar suits and alligator shoes running up and down
the halls of Congress that make policy now -- the lobbyists, the PAC guys, the foreign
lobbyists, and what-have-you, they'll be over there in the Smithsonian, you know -- 'Cause
we're gonna get rid of them!”
Perot wasn’t the first to suggest this kind of electronic democracy, and he won’t be
the last.
For those who lamented the corporate-controlled media, or the limited flow of information
in authoritarian regimes, the internet was a godsend.
One Wired article proudly announced that netizens were better informed and more civically engaged
than their unconnected peers.
By 1997, a mere 8.5% of the population was considered “connected.”
But they voted more, had greater trust in democracy, and were more likely to know basic
information - like who the Chief Justice is.
In other words, these connected citizens were a bastion of light in the political ecosystem.
But has this light dimmed?
Was it ever there at all?
Sure, we can now access unprecedented amounts of information, but as you’ve probably guessed
- something is wrong with the internet.
Let’s fast forward to 2010.
young people are doing exactly what futurists predicted: connecting on Twitter and coming
out in the streets to protest oppressive regimes in Egypt, Tunisia, and elsewhere.
The media heralded The Arab Spring as the first social media revolution.
The promise of the internet in action.
Before the internet, political organizing was risky business - stump speeches and flyer
distribution were great ways to end up in jail.
Now, in the age of tweets heard round the world, one can instigate change from the safety
of one’s own home, until your movement is too large to quell.
But despite the praise the internet earned for its role in the Arab Spring, some have
argued that the uprisings prove that the internet can actually stifle politics.
Why?
Because, in Egypt, at least, the real revolution didn’t start until the internet went dark.
On January 28, 2011, after several days of widespread protests, Egyptian President Hosni
Mubarak shut down the country’s internet.
Like, all of it.
Cell phones, too.
"In anticipation of what had been billed as the biggest of four days of rallies, the government
completely shut down the internet in an attempt to stop people from communicating."
One paper argued that the lack of internet intensified revolutionary unrest in three
ways.
It angered those who were otherwise unaware or uninterested in the unrest; it forced more
face-to-face communication; and it decentralized the rebellion - making it even harder to put
down.
Similarly the Iranian revolution of 1978 and 1979 took place only after a news blackout.
Which raises another question: what if exposure to information doesn’t necessarily compel
us to fix injustices, or clamor for a better world, but just makes us more content with
the status quo?
The author was inspired by another paper that looked at East Germans living under Communism
who had access to Western media.
"I understand our gathering today is being broadcast, as well, in the East.
To those listening in East Berlin, a special word."
You might think that seeing a world of freedom would inspire East Germans to detest their
oppressive regime and spur them to rebel.
But it did exactly the opposite.
Eastern Germans with access to Western TV found their life under communism more tolerable
than their peers without it.
TV offered an escape from food lines and state propaganda.
Why fight for a better world when you can just watch one?
Why jump over a shark on water skis, if you can just watch the Fonz do it?
And why participate in politics when you can retweet someone else’s virtue?
In 2014, researchers looked at the “Save Darfur” cause on Facebook.
What they found, at this point, probably won’t surprise you: “The vast majority of Cause
members recruited no one else into the Cause and contributed no money to it -suggesting...
Facebook conjured an illusion of activism rather than facilitating the real thing.”
To be fair, there are counter-examples, like the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, which raised
unprecedented amounts of money to fight the disease.
But entering a credit card number is a lot different than being an engaged citizen - where
problems are a little more complicated than dumping money into research.
And what about our electronic town halls, or the promise, that digital citizens will
be more informed than previous generations?
In 2014, a Pew Research poll claimed that, thanks to the internet, at least people felt
more informed.
But what should we make of “feeling” more informed?
Well, as early as 1996, MIT researchers prophetically declared that the internet ran the risk of
becoming what they referred to as a cyber-Balkans.
Like the countries of the Balkan Peninsula, which became increasingly fragmented and hostile
toward one another, the internet would create insular realities for its users.
In other words, they identified echo chambers 20 years before everyone freaked out about
them.
The point is: access to more information doesn’t necessarily dispel falsehoods, it can amplify
them.
Rather than discrediting flat-earthers, anti-vaxxers, and whatever the hell Goop is, the internet
has helped them thrive.
And for the rest of us, why challenge your own perspectives when you can find sources
that think like you do?
So, what gives?
As one philosopher notes, as we produce more knowledge, what we gain in breadth, we lose
in depth.
Everyone has an opinion, but is never committed to act on it.
Why?
Because of what he considers to be two of the worst calamities of the modern era: anonymity
and the press.
But this philosopher wasn’t talking about the internet or even the modern era because
he died in 1855.
What Soren Kierkegaard identified as problems in the 1800s - anonymity, public opinion,
and armchair intellectualism - have been given mega-steroids in the age of the internet.
Kierkegaard argued the press invited us to become detached spectators, divorcing thought
from action.
Ideas were homogenized as everyone began to read the same sources.
Now we read the same sh*t and hit like and share if we agree - no independent thought
needed.
But before getting too cynical, should we ask: is this the fault of the internet itself?
Or things on it, like Facebook or Logan Paul?
There are tons of examples, some studied, and some not, of the bright side of the internet:
times where the internet helped organize a community, or connect old friends, or let
people explore who they really are.
But rather than looking at specific content, it’s important to understand the modern
internet as a system with a supreme mandate: to produce knowledge.
Specifically, knowledge about you, tailored for you, and often produced by you.
The internet isn’t about what kind of knowledge is produced, it’s concerned with the ever-accelerating
exchange of information in general.
More photos.
More kickstarters.
More video watch time.
It’s a system that cares about scale, not quality, not integrity.
And despite this ever-increasing exchange of information, the internet seems to generate
isolation wherever it goes.
From early internet studies that show users feel more lonely and depressed, on a micro
level, to the balkanization of our political landscape on a macro level.
Whereas internet evangelists thought that access to information would connect people
like never before, it’s managed to do exactly the opposite.
But hey - at least there’s this: