Last week I began reading Is the Internet Changing the Way We Think?, a collection of essays by various thinkers, assembled and edited by John Brockman. The subtitle is The Net's Impact on Our Minds and Future. The list of contributors is impressive and the topics explored quite vast.
This blog post was stimulated by June Cohen, director of media, TED Conference, TED Talks. As you might expect, Cohen introduces an idea I had never considered but which so thoroughly resonated with my own observations that it's a wonder I'd never considered it this way before.
When I read the text of June Cohen's TED Talk, it not only struck me as original but also seemed profoundly astute. The title above was taken from the title of her TED Talk: The Rise of Social Media Is Really a Reprise.
In the early days of the Web, when I worked at HotWired, I thought mainly about the new. We were of the future, those of us in that San Francisco loft-champions of new media, new tools, new thinking. But lately I've been thinking more about the old--about those aspects of human character and cognition that remain unchanged by time and technology. Over the past two decades, I've watched as the Internet changed the way we think and changed the way we live. But it hasn't changed us fundamentally. In fact, it may be returning us to the intensely social animals we evolved to be. (EdNote: emphases mine)
When you take the long view-when you look at the Internet on an evolutionary timeline-everything we consider "old media" is actually very new. Books and newspapers became common only in the last two hundred years, radio and film in the last hundred, TV in the last fifty. If all of human history were compressed into a single twenty-four-hour day, media as we now know them emerged in the last two minutes before midnight.
Before that, for the vast majority of human history, all media were social media. Media were what happened between people. Whether you think of the proverbial campfire, around which group rituals were performed and mythologies passed on, or of simple everyday interactions (teaching, gossiping, making music, making each other laugh), media were participatory.
The point, she concludes, is that what we’re witnessing now isn’t a fresh phenomenon. It’s not a groundbreaking surge in human potential, nor the collapse of thoughtful discussion, but instead a return to a more typical historical state. For a short time in the twentieth century, "media" was seen as content crafted by professionals for passive consumption by the masses. Together, we’ve been moving away from that concept.
Is this part of the reason I've generally found television so off-putting since my junior year in high school?
Humans are innate storytellers, she says, and media have long served as the connective tissue binding our communities. However, in the twentieth century, mass media became so overwhelmingly one-sided that they crowded out other forms of engagement. The allure of television was so captivating, immersive, and isolating that it eroded older, interactive traditions like storytelling, music creation, and even family meals. While TV built a global audience, it dismantled the sense of village life in the process.
Then came the Internet. As soon as this technology emerged, we instinctively started rebuilding the types of content and communities we’re naturally drawn to. Content creation no longer required a multi-million dollar studio. YouTube video was a snap to produce and upload for sharing.
Our ancestors thrived in tight-knit tribes, staying close to friends and keeping their children even closer. They rapidly shared critical, sometimes life-saving information and gathered around fires for rituals and storytelling that strengthened their bonds. Today, we see these same instincts at play. The first thing many of us do with new communication tools is reconnect with our tribe—sending photo emails to our parents or watching our grandchildren via private photo and video catalogs as they grow from infants to maturity.
The upside to social media is that it's accessible and (mostly) easy as pie.
* * * Cue the ominous background transition music * * *
I went to a Tate Lecture at McFarlin at SMU featuring journalist Soledad O'Brien. I really like her and watched her on NBC and CNN many years ago. Anyhow, I was sitting in the 3rd balcony because I bought a General Admission ticket. It was terrible up there. I had a nice seat picked out and a few seconds before it started, a lady with a high hairdo sat in front of me so I moved. But I didn't know the lady down from her and now to the side of me on the lower row was going to be playing a game on her phone the whole night. Well, I shut her down by asking her to dim her phone or turn it off thank you. She did. Then a man in front of her had his going but he was reading about Soledad and turned it off pretty quickly. Then another lady kept checking her phone the whole lecture, but at least she had dimmed hers and was just quickly checking. Then when the lecture was over but the question and answer session was beginning, many people got up and left. I guess that's ok but I think it is in poor taste. During the questions (the lights were up), that first lady had dimmed her phone but was scrolling FB. LOL. I enjoyed the lecture but will pay for a decent ticket on the floor next time. My take is that people are addicted to their phones and are rude. But we all knew that. I just am surprised time and time again for some reason. --Denise Costello*
*Denise Costello is a connoisseur of the arts and literature, and an authority in all things Hemingway
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