The Cult of Google?
OK, I admit it. I worship at the church of Google. From smart search to Google Trends to Google Friend Connect to their tireless advancement of search algorithms to the point of artificial intelligence, I am shameless in my admiration of Google and how they have changed the way in which we navigate the web. And yes, I’ve been to the famed cafeteria and had my share of free Synergy teas. And yes, I pray for a job at the mecca that has established a cult-like following. So when an author (a neurologist who specializes in brain/behavioral research) came in for a meeting and chatted about the recently published Atlantic article: “Is Google Making Us Stupid?”, a healthy discourse ensued. We discussed how we’ve changed over the past decade as readers, consumers of culture, and what influence the web has had in the way in which we consume said content and how we interact with others.
Over the past few years, especially in my current work role where it’s imperative that I keep up on the latest web-trends, I’ve found that my behavior has been greatly, and perhaps adversely, affected by the web. I’m constantly wondering: What’s going on with Yahoo? Is twitter a legitimate player? What is the ROI of video? What’s the latest on contextual search? How effective is branding in search versus traditional banner advertising? What’s the next evolution of advertising now that consumers have smartly trained their eye to mostly ignore the noise? How has and how will blogging evolve? Etc, etc, etc. I read news articles, I scan hundreds of blogs making sure I’m familiar with their site so I prepare smart pitches, and possibly make some new friends. I analyze spreadsheets of data. CPM. CTR. and the like. My thinking has taken on a “staccato” quality, where I constantly browsing, pausing, clicking, and I’m irritated by long posts - anything that gives me pause.
This, my friends, is not a good thing.
Because while I’m “in the know” and storing, analyzing and reporting on information and data at a formidable rate, I’m exhausted. Lately, I’ve found it hard to really engage with a book. I have to train myself to turn the television off when I read. I’ve had to force myself to walk a half an hour in the morning, in silence. No iPOD, no distractions, just me and my feet making movement. And while I loathe texting, I prefer email over phone and it’s taking me a while to behave otherwise. I was a long-hand writer, a voracious reader of tomes, a chatty patty on the phone - now I sometimes feel as if I operate much like an efficient machine.
A few moments ago, a coworker and I were discussing the Atlantic article and we talked about how, in meetings, people talk over one another. There is a twitch everywhere. An over-caffeinated buzz. A movement to press on. Make your point. If I don’t care, I’ll carry on a side conversation. What happened to pausing? Listening in a way that you’re not waiting for your turn to speak? Have we forgotten to pause, turn off, relax, engage, really engage? Have we become “power browsers”?
While I thought Carr’s article was smart and well-written, I didn’t necessarily feel I learned anything new, per se, and Google felt was tacked on as a clever positioning in an effort to garner buzz. Incorporating more neurological research would have interesting, as my author talked about studies he conducted where he followed the brain activity and behavior modifications between two users - one a savvy web-user and another user, nascent to the web, and how the later’s brain activity markedly changed after a few days (a few days!!) of using the web. And longer-term studies about how the web affects our physical/mental health might have been more fascinating to read.
Yet, Carr’s pieced sparks conversation and gets us thinking about the web, in general, and how it’s affected our speech, mannerisms, behavior, and interactions with our friends and coworkers.
So while my job involves pounding at the keys and clicking, I’m learning to step away from the computer after hours and as Alex says: do. do. do.
June 12th, 2008 at 12:31 pm
Felicia,
The NOT LISTENING to each other, the TALKING OVER EACH OTHER - it goes way beyond Google - it’s the new society - EVERYONE IS EQUAL in a way not espoused by law. Each person thinks what they have to say is MORE IMPORTANT than anyone else. Each person thinks they can be and do anything they want, because Oprah says so. Each person thinks they have EQUAL talents in theatre, film, t.v., writing, dance, etc. Because the new society embraces the mediocre and it is politically incorrect to tell someone, NO, you don’t have what it takes to do such and such.
Try talking to a government agency these days. They even tell you what words you can’t use: such as stupid. Stupid is the new _______.
They talk over you as a tactic - so you can’t complain and say what it is you want to and need to say.
It is not just Google. It is the whole society.
Nietzsche was so right. The mediocre shall inherit the earth. The herd mentality.
June 12th, 2008 at 9:54 pm
[…] . Beautiful watercolour on how to make Sun Tea. Renegade Health Show. Felicia asks, “Is Google […]
June 13th, 2008 at 10:56 pm
I agree with Nanette - it’s a problem with society as a whole, not just Web users. But it’s a chicken-and-egg question: Are people so impatient and twitchy because of modern technology? Or has technology evolved to reflect modern society?
I think it’s so necessary to occasionally DISconnect, whether it’s a little every day, as with your walks, or in occasional big gulps, like me, next week in Cancun with nothing but a journal, a pen, and a stack of books. This is the first time since 1991 that I will be without TV, radio, phone, newspaper, email — any connection to the outside world. And I’m incredibly nervous about it. What if I miss something? What if a potential business deal comes through email and evaporates for lack of response? What if my kid wants to call me on my cell phone? What if a major earthquake strikes Seattle and swallows my house?
Oh dear. I feel a blog post coming on.
June 14th, 2008 at 9:25 am
My full-blown web addiction conflicts entirely with my quest for stillness, no question about it.