The New York Times finds the Internet, and the business and culture surrounding it, endlessly fascinating. When Marissa Mayer was named CEO of Yahoo last month, the paper devoted more than a dozen pieces to the event, pondering everything from the ramifications of her pregnancy to the depth of the challenges she faces. “Does Facebook Turn People Into Narcissists?” Tara Parker-Pope asked in a Sunday Magazine piece. (No, she reported—narcissists prefer Twitter.) In “Being Addicted to Longing for Something,” Carina Chocano (also in the mag) reported on how everyone she knows goes to digital “mood boards” on Pinterest or Tumblr to escape, perk up, calm down, feel something, distract themselves, and “modulate pleasure and arousal.” Last month, the Times gave front-page treatment to a new reality series about Silicon Valley and the pained reaction of local residents.
But the Times is hardly alone in its Internet fixation. In publications both online and off, business reporters obsessively parse the business strategies and personnel moves of Google and Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Lifestyle reporters breathlessly chronicle the fortunes, mansions, and attire of the digerati. And, perhaps most troubling, the burgeoning corps of human-behavior reporters eagerly weigh the impact of the online world on every aspect of our psyches, making claims that are grand, outlandish, and ultimately unverifiable.
“Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?” The Atlantic inquired on its May cover. Inside, Stephen Marche filled seven pages with McLuhanesque meditations on loneliness and Facebook’s part in spreading it: At a time of “instant and absolute communication, unbounded by limits of time or space,” we “have never been more detached from one another, or lonelier”; “Across the Western world, physicians and nurses have begun to speak openly of an epidemic of loneliness”; “The question of the future is this: Is Facebook part of the separating or the congregating; is it a huddling-together for warmth or a shuffling-away in pain?”; “The history of our use of technology is a history of isolation desired and achieved.” The real danger with Facebook, Marche (finally) concluded,
is not that it allows us to isolate ourselves, but that by mixing our appetite for isolation with our vanity, it threatens to alter the very nature of solitude.
The thought that Facebook might be altering the very nature of solitude is truly terrifying. But it paled before the message of Newsweek’s July 7 cover, “Is the Internet Making Us Crazy?” Drawing on a potpourri of studies, surveys, and expert interviews, Tony Dokoupil argued that the Internet “may be making us not just dumber or lonelier but more depressed, even outright psychotic.” According to one expert, the Web, by fostering obsessions and dependence, “encourages—and even promotes—insanity.” The brains of Internet addicts, it turns out, “look like the brains of drug and alcohol addicts. And don’t kid yourself [who would!]: the gap between an `Internet addict’ and John Q. Public is thin to nonexistent.” As a result, “normal people are breaking down in sad and seemingly new ways.”
These articles typify much of the current writing about the Internet. They offer sweeping speculations about the supposed effects of the wired world on human behavior and social relations, with a patina of authority lent by selective citations from the vast reams of data produced by the burgeoning corps of digital psychologists, computer behavioralists, and loneliness experts. Reading these pieces, the question I came away with was not whether Facebook is making us lonely or whether the Internet is making us crazy but whether the Web is making journalists stupid.
In some cases, the press’s Internet absorption can seriously warp our perception of important events. A good example is the Arab Spring. From the Western coverage, one would have thought that the Internet was the main cause of the Mideast uprisings. On a recent Fresh Air, Terry Gross, interviewing Times Cairo Bureau Chief David Kirkpatrick, casually mentioned “the Facebook revolution.”