Those who struggle with computers should play Myst. The unusual computer game, one of my favorites, is something of a boot camp in situational awareness. Don't know what you're doing? Great! You're on the right track.
The game drops the player onto an island with little explanation. No checklist is provided. No advice is broadcasted. Even the objective is unexplained. Only through exploration and experimentation do the story and plan begin to form. You're on your own, and yet, somehow, you figure it out.
Not sure how to print a document or sign up for a new service? Look for clues. Keep an eye out for anything that seems related. Press buttons and see what happens. Progress one step at a time, and don't be afraid to retreat from dead ends. Somehow, you'll get there, and you'll learn a great deal along the way. Made a mistake? Those can be undone. Rest assured, you won't be trapped in a book for all eternity.
How does social media drive political polarization? Justin Rosenstein explains in The Social Dilemma:
You look over at the other side, and you start to think, “How can those people be so stupid? Look at all of this information that I'm constantly seeing. How are they not seeing that same information?” And the answer is, they're not seeing that same information.
This is by no means the only way social media drives political polarization. It turns out, showing users gradually more extreme content is also a great way to keep them addicted. More addiction means more screen time, more ad impressions, and ultimately more money for these companies. Still, it's a great place to start when describing the problem. The other side is not seeing what you see. In fact, they're getting a constant stream of information about how wrong you are, and you'll hardly ever see a drop of it yourself.
These days, with entertainment sometimes so blatant in its messaging, about as subtle as a brick to the face, I find the 1982 song Goodnight Saigon by Billy Joel beautifully refreshing. The song describes the experiences of American soldiers in the Vietnam War without making an overtly political statement.
We had no home front
We had no soft soap
They sent us Playboy
They gave us Bob Hope
We dug in deep
And shot on sight
And prayed to Jesus Christ
With all of our might
Rolling Stone music critic Dave Marsh once wrote that the song is “obscene” because it “refuses to take sides.” I dare say he's missing the point. I have an opinion about the Vietnam War, too, but I don't need to hear that opinion parroted back to me. Yes, validation can be immensely gratifying, but no man's land is much more interesting.
This is a slight rewording of something Alex Limi once said during an internal presentation at Mozilla. The point is not about usage, but rather creation. Building something simplistic is easy, but building something simple is hard. The observation stuck with me, and I think it's a great little maxim.
Think about it in product design. Picasa was simplistic, but Instagram is simple. eBay is simplistic, but Facebook Marketplace is simple. IRC is simplistic, but Slack is simple.
To be clear, I'm not saying Picasa, eBay, or IRC are incapable. On the contrary, they're too powerful. I prefer the designs of Instagram, Facebook Marketplace, and Slack for what they can't do. Of course, whether anyone should use Instagram, Facebook, or Slack is another question. Even cigarettes can be thoughtfully designed.
As a rule of thumb, I try not to get worked up about people I haven't met in real life. “Supporters of Political Candidate Want Toast Banned,” a headline might read. Well, I've never met anyone in the real world who wants toast banned. Until I do, I'm not going to worry about it.
Of course it's important to notice and criticize bad ideas before they take hold. At the same time, with social media and the lazy, clickbait journalism it fuels, every bad idea now has a moment in the reactionary spotlight, and most will never affect much. Let's focus on the big problems of the day, the ones we'd notice with or without sensationalism.
One of the trickier aspects of digital life is the constant pressure to opine. To have a strong opinion on a subject, and to share it with the world. It’s literally baked into the design of the most popular platforms… ‘What’s on your mind, Jamie?’ wonders Facebook. Some of the finest minds in the world work extremely hard to encourage you to tell everyone what you’re thinking and feeling. No wonder it’s hard to resist.
[…]
If I am honest, I know very little about most bad things going on in the world. Certainly not enough that sharing my view will inform or educate or enlighten. Yet whenever I see a news report, an urgent need rises up: what shall I say about this? I have a feeling about it – which must be shared! (And ideally in emotionally charged language, since that will receive more interactions).
[…]
What social media has done is to make silence an active – rather than the default – choice. To speak publicly is now so easy that not doing it kind-of-implies you don’t know or don’t care about what’s going on in the world. Who wants to look ignorant or indifferent? And besides, who doesn’t want to appear kind or wise, or morally upstanding in front of others?
But the result is an undirected anger from all sides: frenetic, purposeless, habitual and above all moralising.
I agree. Of course we should criticize wrongdoing, but knee-jerk, impersonal, emotionally-charged reactions are sometimes profoundly counter-productive, and that's precisely what social media selects for. I actually wrote a blog post in August expressing very similar concerns, and I wish I could have quoted Jamie in it.
“You can't connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backwards… Believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well-worn path, and that will make all the difference.”
“If you take on a role that’s beyond your capabilities, you not only disgrace yourself in that one, but you’ve also passed up the role that you were capable of performing well.”
—The Enchiridion of Epictetus, as newly translated by Robin Waterfield in The Complete Works