There is no question that the internet has gotten a lot better since the Coronavirus pandemic began. The NYT Daily Episode about it has been one of the few bright spots of news coverage against an onslaught of grim headlines. Listen and you’ll hear a pastiche of uplifting audio from across the internet. There are virtual happy hours, singalongs with pop stars in pajamas, and Tiger King watch parties. There are experts sharing their knowledge/talent for free in the form of yoga lessons, impromptu concerts, and DJ sets. There’s even online improv.
It almost feels like the clock has been turned back to the ’90s—to a time before the internet became a “feverish, electric, unlivable hell” (to quote Jia Tolentino). But the internet didn’t change overnight. If anything, the surveillance capitalism model that many blame for ruining the web is thriving; when this is all over, there’s no question that companies like Amazon and Facebook will come out ahead. No, the internet didn’t change. We did. But how?
You could just chalk it up to people pulling together in a crisis. It’s happened before (see: WW-II). But this is the first time we’ve faced a crisis of this magnitude while simultaneously plugged into the internet. And what’s particularly fascinating is how Coronavirus has transformed some of the worst ways we’d grown accustomed to using the internet—for the better.
One small example: before, the internet was the perfect breeding ground for in-jokes, which—by definition—leave some people on the outside. But overnight, the internet appears to have transformed into a worldwide common kumbaya of cathartic humor that everyone can understand—from the most Tik Tok tuned-in teenybopper to the least tech-savvy boomer armed with three separate AOL accounts.
And what of the vitriolic shitshow that stands in for political discourse in the United States? Well, it looks like the immediacy of this threat may have forced our regular filter bubbles and echo chambers to converge on more or less the same set of shared facts again. Finally.
Actually, I don’t have a lot of evidence backing up that last claim; it could just be wishful thinking on my part—my own personal desire to fast forward already to the Post-Post Truth Era. So I’ll stick instead to a phenomenon that’s more personal—yet one that’s potentially common to us all as we continue to isolate from one another for the sake of public health.
The (Temporary) Death of FOMO
As someone who’s spent much of the past few years on the road, I am no stranger to loneliness. When you travel, there is companionship so long as you keep moving—so long as you stay on the traveler’s path. But the moment you stop, the moment you stay in one place, you begin to notice the world moving around you, people moving on—without you.
In my loneliest moments on the road, I would turn to the internet. As I scrolled through my newsfeed, seeing all the people having fun thousands of miles away, I was always a heartbeat away from booking a flight and racing back to the familiar. Now, even though I can’t legally move more than 100m of where I’m writing this—I don’t feel such intense feelings of FOMO. Because everyone is miserable. No one’s having fun. Anywhere.
I’m exaggerating a bit. Seriously, you should listen to that Daily episode; it will brighten your day. But FOMO hasn’t disappeared because we haven’t found ways to cope; it’s vanished because of the spirit in which we’re coping. As we clumsily migrate all the things we used to do in-person to the online world, we recognize it’s a sub-par solution. We’d all rather be doing things differently…
The result? The death of FOMO—on both the supply and demand sides of the equation. When everyone is stuck inside their homes, it cuts off the raw material that feeds the FOMO machine. Visually, it also helps that there’s something very dorky about the way everyone looks on a webcam. It does something to keep us all on the same playing field (don’t worry though, there’s help for that!).
But more importantly—on the demand side—when the social landscape is so level, we don’t feel that deep need to benchmark our lives against the lives of of others. Instead of being incessantly drawn to the various barometers of social status that constantly remind us where we stand in the grand pecking order, we can relax. We can revel in the humor and memes of the web like a carefree child playing with their toys. Released from our self-tormenting demons, we turn to the internet for the thing we need the most right now: relief. And nothing more.
Can The Good Times Last?
What’s really behind the death of FOMO is the leveling of lived experience. By that I don’t mean that everyone has or will experience the health or economic fallout of this crisis equally. In fact, the best case scenario would be that we pass through this difficult time with nothing but long periods of idleness and boredom. But that’s not how this is likely to play out.
To the extent that we can find refuge online, however, this informational Eden unfortunately won’t last. When the pandemic subsides, we will leave our houses, and our lived experiences will once again diverge. Jokes will again become ‘inny’. What shared political reality (if any) we have carved out will begin to fall apart. And the FOMO feedback loop will once again churn to life.
In the end, you can’t control the way everyone else uses the internet, but you can control your own usage. I’ve heard a lot of people say that the break in their routine brought on by the virus has made them reassess aspects of their lives that weren’t working for them. There’s no reason you can’t extend that exercise to the way you use the internet.
So remember this moment as one when the internet once again lived up to its promise. And be mindful of that moment to come when it no longer does. And when that happens, maybe unplug and simply savor the simple pleasures we didn’t know we were taking for granted until just a few weeks ago—like going out for a coffee or a beer with a friend. Because the most gratifying part of that experience won’t be the selfie you snap to tell the world you were there. It will be the conversation and connection you share knowing that the world is once again a safe place to simply be.