The Past #
Back in the mid to late 2000s, a new form of online communication started to emerge. As someone who had previously spent some time on traditional message boards, I wasn’t particularly excited. Primarily because — not long before that particular step of evolution in communicating over the internet — I’d already experienced what appeared to be the limits of human interactions in tight digital spaces with a group of people calling themselves a community. Don’t get me wrong, though. It was great. At first.
We were a small group of people, all extremely knowledgeable and passionate about music (think High Fidelity kinda nerds). That particular trait served as the foundation for the formation of our exclusive little online community. And we had things to share! Naturally, we didn’t limit ourselves to music either. Philosophy, technology, art, literature…all sorts of interests were present. Distributed across no more than a dozen people.
Over time, however, a bit of a conundrum began to surface: on top of serving as sources of inspiration for one another, we were all creators with our own sources and quirks. Everyone was curious, explored their own corner of the world and, ultimately, built their own mind space. And, as time went on, there seemed to have been less and less space for the rest of the group. Personally, I don’t think it was because of a lack of care for anything that was not transformed in our own minds to be shared with others. Or that the quality of our fellow community members’ creations had waned. Thinking back, to this day I remain impressed with what that community was able to build. For the short amount of time it existed.
In my view, there were two main challenges that we were unable to overcome as a group, with the first one being time. There was just not enough of it. Can’t spend an ungodly amount of time doing all this research and writing articles while simultaneously keeping up with the output of a dozen other people. Case in point: once, I had spent quite a bit of time writing a piece, only to publish it within an hour or two before another community member would publish his work. In the end, neither of those articles were discussed as each one would take some time to be read and processed. Of course, you might argue that this was due to the exclusive nature of the group and, from today’s perspective, I’d partially agree because a more open forum wasn’t the solution either (as I’ll briefly expand on in the next paragraph). However, I do like to think if each one of us had had our own website, it would’ve been a different story.
The second challenge was rather inconspicuous, yet extremely powerful: we simply kept evolving. And, let’s be honest, we were craving change. Some of us started to explore other, more open message boards and, in the process, became diluted in a sea of countless voices producing low-effort content. Not everyone is curious nor has the drive to do what it takes when it comes to both research and the especially laborious task that is putting our thoughts and feelings into words. At the same time, we opened up our forum to one or two new people, also contributing to a change in dynamics. In short, things had changed and we slowly started heading in different directions.
As for me, it seemed a bit like the end of an era. On the surface it might even be appropriate to use the phrase all good things must come to an end. But more importantly, there was something to be learned from that experience. And I wanted to take a moment to think. Just a brief one as I quickly ended up being busy exploring technology (nerding out with Linux), transitioning from philosophy to applied linguistics as well as reading lots about behavioral and experimental psychology. And, as I’d eventually find out, those things somehow didn’t seem to be compatible with what we now simply call social media.
Incidentally, a little while after those adventures on more traditional message boards, I received — one day and out of the blue — a “friend request” in my inbox. It was from someone I knew and redirected me to a website called Facebook. So I’d spend a couple of weeks checking it out and, within that short amount of time, I would end up with over one hundred “friends” — which seemed highly suspicious! To say the least. If I recall correctly, at the time I probably knew around five people in total. And even that might be a bit of a stretch.
At any rate, there I was, sitting in front of the computer, squinting and trying to figure out who my latest new friend in that profile picture was. But I guess that didn’t matter much as some of these people very likely had no idea who I was either — nor would they have cared. Just another entry on their friends’ list. I mean, my chosen alias was Arthur Schopenhauer. Who’d befriend a guy like that? And I doubt anyone familiar with the name would’ve confused me with the philosopher himself.
Long story short, after a few weeks I ended that social media experiment, never to return again.
Confused Shepherds #
With social media being like massive meadows for the sheep to graze on, I occasionally like to pay attention to (aspiring) shepherds. There are many different types: intellectual, spiritual, political, fashionable, subversive, tolerant, intolerant, inclusive, exclusive and so on. With possible combinations of several of these traits. And every group type of sheep has a matching type of shepherd — who loves to count sheep. The more the merrier. Personally, that’d put me to sleep, but I guess shepherds on the web get a bit of a dopamine rush as those numbers increase.
That being said, at the end of the day the sheep are grateful. A leader — someone with a vision — will tend to their thirst for safety; their hunger for convenience. A hero — an idol — will shine a guiding light to conquer that darkness and incertitude of the night in an effort to uncover a path to follow. A map to the Elysian Fields. The sheep are on their way.
Unlike actual sheep, however, the metaphorical ones can be unforgiving if their shepherd fails to meet their expectations. You see, on the internet it’s the shepherds that get thrown to the wolves. The sheep mostly don’t have to worry about those predators. Because sheep and wolves are one and the same. Though, on occasion — or more specifically, after a misstep — they cannibalize one of their own. So choose your words carefully, dear shepherd/sheep.
Anyway, there’s no shortage of shepherds. In other words, in that relationship the sheep have the upper hand hoof. It’s a game where those who desperately want to be heard and seen keep begging the sheep to let them become their next shepherd. And once they do, they’ll have to fear the sheep turned wolves.
In my view, one of the reasons has to do with a desire to evaluate the human behind the output rather than the output itself. Mixed with all those expectations that members of a human society have to have a perfect record in terms of whatever values are upheld by the public mob or the group(s) they so desperately want to be a part of, it isn’t that difficult to see how being a shepherd on the web (or rather trying to be one) can backfire at any moment. These days, we have a word or two to succinctly describe all that, but fundamentally it’s that human beings who merge all their identities (private, professional etc.) become extremely vulnerable as the sheep can now expect perfect adherence to their values by targeting one single identity blob. There’s nowhere to hide anymore as those (aspiring) shepherds can’t benefit from herd immunity anonymity. They were aware, though. After all, the stakes are high: either they have a meaningful impact on that sweet, sweet world they like to think and talk about so much while everyone is showering them with praise and approval — or they (metaphorically) die trying. Apparently, the whole apparatus is rather fragile as all it takes these days is one mistake. A mistake that won’t simply cost our shepherds the loss of a source of income or a bunch of friends who don’t like to hang out with them anymore outside of work. Instead, once branded by the sheep wolves, there’s no turning back: on to the land of ostracism! Both without income and friends. Nor much of anything else. As for the sheep, they’ve replaced the old one already with a new sucker shepherd. And those shepherds who fell from grace create their own band of sheep with their newly appointed shepherd — as the world keeps turning.
To be fair, though, most shepherds are fine. Just chugging along with their gang of sheep on their way to the Elysian Fields. Safe travels!
Of course, it has to be said that running out of shepherds would be bad for the sheep. So it’s not like they come without their own Achilles’ heel. Aimlessness, mental breakdowns and so on. Next thing you know: it’s a stampede. And the previously built shepherd’s hut of cards comes crumbling down. Or, let’s put it this way: can’t have a safety fence without a little gate and someone opening and closing the door to let the sheep in and out. It’s a beautiful co-dependence between master and slave and, as an outsider, you will have difficulties figuring out who’s who in that relationship. After all, sheep, shepherd and wolf are all roles played by the same (versatile) actor: the human.
An Outsider’s Perspective #
In the following years after my decision to stay away from social media — with no desire whatsoever to become a shepherd or to join the ranks of the sheep — I was completely ostracized (not unlike those shepherds who fell from grace). And never invited to a party. Friends and family became former friends and family; nobody would hire me as I had stopped going to church to network with all the business people while the priest was reading from a book with many, many, many pages. And my absence on LinkedIn was the final nail in the coffin. It was a brief, lonely, painful and, quite frankly, miserable existence that ultimately led to my premature death as a homeless person under a bridge that was — not without a pinch of irony — part of the road to nowhere. And then, I woke up, kissed my wife on the forehead (she was still asleep), made and enjoyed my morning coffee and, finally, left for work.
If you’re someone who’s been on social media for a long time and cannot imagine what life must be like on the outside, then let me give you an outsider’s perspective: it’s been great. But it doesn’t come easy and without effort. Or the occasional sacrifice. Nothing of value does. At least, not in my experience.
In one particular aspect, however, I was part of a group of people who were a bit luckier than those who came after us: I was old enough to reject a social media membership before the global mass migration to these platforms occurred. In other words, I never had to fight withdrawal symptoms or some kind of FOMO on my way out. But the pressure to join because millions (billions?) including everyone I know was on them? Not once have I felt that. Not once. That was just never my style.
Incidentally, when I was about twelve years old, I made the decision to never drink alcohol. No reason in particular other than, at the time, it just felt right to stay away from booze. I was mainly laughed at and even my parents couldn’t resist making a comment at my expense:
Son, we’ll revisit that statement once you’re old enough to drink…
Honestly, staying away from alcohol was one of the easier things in my life. In spite of the social pressure — which occasionally turned into an absurd set of attempts to convince me to drink —, I never felt tempted. At times, people would even resort to all sorts of bribery to see that intoxicating fluid being directed toward my liver: from music records (as they knew me as the guy who somehow couldn’t live without those sweet, sweet songs) to actual money (one hundred bucks for a sip of whatever ethanol-based liquid was inside of their glass). They so desperately wanted to see whether they can break my spirit by giving me some of it — and turn me into one of them in the process. Sure, on the surface it seemed to be a fun little game, but in truth it was just sad. And now you might wonder how much it would’ve taken for me to abandon my principles for a moment, but I was left with a different question: why were people prepared to spend their hard-earned cash on stupid shit like that rather than paying me to work on something for the benefit of all of us? By the way, that turned out to be a glimpse into a larger part of my future as a member of the workforce. Compared to other people in my circle, that was the one aspect of my life where I would remain a member of the unlucky ones. Can’t have it all, as they say. Though, I’m still working on it. Constantly reducing my wants and trying to figure out ways to do as much for the needs.
At any rate, while we probably can agree that the dose makes the poison, I had a feeling that social media would evolve into overdose territory with time. Personally, I relied on two indicators to reach that conclusion, though I’m sure there are many others. The first one was when I saw that businesses were popping up on the platform that was supposed to connect people. And the second one was the like button.
In my years browsing the web, I only ever saw one actually useful application scenario for that button: on file sharing platforms to avoid wasting time with fakes. It was conveniently effective. But to rate people’s output from their personal lives and — over time — the people themselves? What a bad idea for mental health! Then again, all I could do was to abstain and shut up. People knew better. And let’s face it: if millions (again: billions?) are doing it, can’t be wrong, can it?
To be fair, not everything on social media seemed to be bad. That was even clear to an outsider like me. People managed to organize and accomplish positive things thanks to being connected. Overall, however, these platforms seem to resemble a hardware store, a pharmacy and a candy shop all wrapped into one with the average visitor being a diabetic with a sweet tooth: you can get to the tools to improve your life as well as the medicine to heal yourself, but on the way to these tools and that medicine you have to traverse a huge candy shop while having difficulties resisting those sweets. And the price for giving in to temptation will end up being astronomical. Not at first, though. Otherwise, not many would have been careless enough to even enter that hybrid (digital) store. Eventually, however, the average visitor is indistinguishable from that junkie in the streets serving as the motivation to put up with a dead-end office job — while being hooked on content displayed on a pocket-sized computer. At least, it doesn’t destroy our mind in a way those opiates or alcohol would, right?