In my imagination “The Internet” descended from the deep reaches of the universe and settled upon our planet like a mist. We began to interact with this powerful and mysterious entity without any real understanding of how it was going to effect us, or even if it was going to effect us. Most of us just assumed it was going to make things better, amplifying potential in a good, rather than harmful way.

However, it hasn’t exactly worked out that way. The astonishing gifts we’ve enjoyed have come with tremendous penalties, the primary of which might be a massive, unacknowledged mental health crisis.

I don’t know about you, but I have never seen as many declarations of anxiety and depression in my life as I now see on a regular basis online. It’s not at all uncommon for me to have multiple chat windows open at once, each one a conversation with a friend in crisis. This is highly subjective of course, and that people now have the means and social sanction to communicate their feelings might be something to celebrate, or, as my intuition suggests,  it could be something in the disembodied interactions we’ve been reducing ourselves to that’s causing this articulated spike in mental health problems.

It seems that the more we inhabit the abstracted realm of The Internet, the more certain we become of our beliefs. This is highly ironic to me, because we all know that amidst the spin and swirl of disinformation, fake news and uncanny algorithms, we should be as skeptical of claims to truth and certainty as we’ve ever been.

Take the White Power symbols that have been in the news.

As you may be aware, the symbol that you always thought meant “OK,” might now mean White Power.

This transition took place about a year ago on 4Chan, where it was conceived as a conscious lie. What I mean by that is that it wasn’t a White Power sign. The intent was to take an existing symbol and change it’s meaning, thus confusing the public and media and further eroding the idea of public trust.

Regardless, once this meme was in the blood stream there was no way to know what the use of the symbol meant. Did the person know it was a white power sign? Were they just saying “OK!?” Were they making a joke? Were they communicating racist ideology?

The first instance of this that I saw was of White House Advisor Zina Bash during a Supreme Court confirmation hearing.

Based on this image, people thought she was a White Supremacist.

Bash is of Mexican and Jewish heritage, and this photo that was widely circulated was a high resolution screen capture of a video, so she was in motion, not in a fixed, posed position. Claims that she was communicating a racist message seemed to me ambiguous at best. But people I know, like and respect saw this photograph, and others like it,

as crystal clear evidence of racist intent. Where I saw nothing but ambiguity, they saw none.

It felt like looking at the Neckar’s Cube, like some optical illusion was at play and the mechanics of our brains were prohibiting us from seeing the same thing.

There was simply no consensus on what was real. We were living two different stories when looking at the images. Where I was looking at what was directly in front of me, my friends were looking at circumstance, or perhaps subtext, seeing this single image as part of a much greater and evolving narrative.

Perhaps I am antique in my thinking, but when I see stories like these, I look for a kind of “courtroom proof.” If I have doubt, I am unwilling to prosecute the reputation and livelihood of the person being judged, even if they might still be suspicious to me. Maybe that makes me unwilling to act, and if so that is a sin I will one day have to answer for. Regardless, online a “thing” is true if it has momentum, if it supports the continuance of a passionately held belief, not if it meets some “clinical” standard of proof.

As our shared sense of truth and morality fall away– and disagreement leads to suspicion, if not flat-out contempt– we fearlessly share our certainties, but shamefully keep our uncertainties sheltered within, anxious that we’ll be attacked rather than supported by those whom we would love, and that, well that’s making us all feel a little jumpy and untethered.

It was a cheap, addictive entertainment.

Like Netflix.
Like porn.
Like the buildup to the Super Bowl.

The big event, as far as most media was concerned, was the landfall in Florida. This, it seemed, was the point to which all of our lives were leading, the apocalypse that was sure to prove whatever it was we needed proved. Days, perhaps even weeks before this happened, there was wall to wall coverage promising cataclysm. I learned to fear the “Cone of Uncertainty” and “Life Threatening Winds,” I listened to talking heads as if they were debating some sport, and I watched relentless loops of footage of nature destroying any puny mortal concerns that stood in its path.

And as the hurricane carved out it’s terrible path, each demolished, little island a grim foreshadowing of what was about to happen to over-populated and under-prepared Florida, the hurricane was simultaneously a prophecy of doom and a trailer for a Hollywood disaster film. Almost giddy, each day the broadcasters revealed– in all its punitive majesty– another verse in this Book of Revelations.

The media, of course, profited from our obsessive fear, and turned the volume up as loud as they could. The more clicks the better, and if it was terror and anxiety that ushered in these clicks, so be it. At one point a rain-soaked reporter, bent and staggering against the elements, conducted an urgent interview with a man who had not evacuated. Clearly the reporter was hoping for some Florida Man archetype to emerge from the scrub, a guy who looked like Kid Rock and was armed with a crossbow and some alligator mace, and wasn’t going to let some “lady storm” tell him what to do.

Instead, the reporter got a genius cardiologist, who with astonishing knowledge, detail and reasoning, explained precisely why it was safe to be exactly where he was. He was calm, too, not a trace of panic to him, and he made the reporter look like the very bad actor he was.

That the media manipulates and distorts news events, or even creates disaster porn, is nothing new. When 9/11 took place I literally could not take my eyes off the tv.

It was the most riveting thing I had ever seen, and it was a rating’s sensation. Now, with all our various technologies even further entrenched, this sense of chaos and anxiety has become a permanent, immobilizing fixture of our lives. The media, desperate to make a buck, feed us all the worst case scenarios, whipping us into a frenzy of panicky, dependent consumption.

My level of excitement had reached such heights that when Hurricane Irma finally struck Florida, I was actually disappointed–like I would be if I saw a movie where the trailers were better than the actual product they were selling.

This is completely perverse and backwards, but there you have it.

It is instructive when you’re caught in the swift currents of one of these types of stories to look up beyond your computer screen and out the window.

Remind yourself that we are actually living in the safest time in history.

( https://www.pri.org/stories/2014-10-23/world-actually-safer-ever-and-heres-data-prove )

Go outside, for surely something beautiful will fall to you.

Me: Are you Nikita?

Woman: No, it’s just my job to hand out these notifications.

Me: Who is Nikita?

Woman: The role is played by Maggie Q.

Me: Maggie Q?

Woman: Yes, it’s her third season in the role. She leads a black ops organization in charge of hunting down rogue spies all over the world. Very thrilling and dramatic!

Me: That sounds like a job with a lot of responsibility. Am I suspected of being a rogue spy?

Woman: Well, I’m not sure, I’d have to ask Nikita.

Me: Could you do that, please. I’m going to have to juggle a few things around if I’m going to be hunted.

To my surprise the woman seemed amused and picked up her phone and called Maggie Q, the actress who plays Nikita.

Woman: Maggie, hi, it’s Janet. I’m just doing a flyer run on the street where we’re going to be shooting on Friday and a man here needs to know if you’re going to be hunting him down as a rogue spy. Yes, I think he must have a past.

Me: Let me speak to her.

Woman: Maggie, he has me hostage. He has spy skills. He’s demanding to speak to you.

The woman then handed me the phone.

Me: Maggie, what sort of assurances can you give me that I won’t be harmed during the shooting of this episode?

Maggie Q: You have full assurances.

Me: I need to know more about what’s going to be shot. I frequently take the dog for a walk and for a spy I’m surprisingly clumsy. Are you going to be kicking people or wielding a sword? I would consider those hazardous activities.

Maggie Q: Mostly, I’ll be looking sultry and intense. My hair will be messy but still sexy and I’ll be forced to point a gun at somebody. My look will suggest it hurts me more than it hurts them.

Me: (Covering the phone and speaking to the woman who was now scratching the ears of our dog, Heidi) She says she might have to kill somebody.

Woman: Well that’s unfortunate. Let me speak with her, maybe I can persuade her to change her mind. (The woman turned her back to me and there was muffled talking.)

Woman: Okay, here’s the deal, Maggie will pass on the killing if you agree to be an extra in a shot, we think an older-dad type walking his little dog down the street might be the perfect illustration of how Nikita keeps the innocent and helpless safe from the dangers of the world. What do you say?

Me: But I’m a rogue spy.

Woman: (Smiling) Oh, no, I’m sorry, but you’re so not.