In my last post I determined that
the internet is a culture worthy of recognition
under the definition which Gaudium etSpes provides in chapter 53. At the very least, it is deserving of the
attention of the Vatican due to it’s pervasive nature in the modern world, and
so discussion and analysis of such a culture may prove worthwhile. I also
offered that the internet culture has the means by which intellectual dialogue,
growth, and development of culture might be achieved.
In this post, I discuss whether or
not it actually achieves this aim.
While I firmly stand by my claim
that the internet is a culture in its own right, by and large that culture’s
content stems simply from sharing individual experiences online. Everything
from Snapchat to Twitter to Facebook to Tumblr are largely used as methodical
communication tools by which a person may update personal experiences regularly
and share them efficiently.
This seems natural, of course: we
can much easier note the particulars than we can effectively commentate on
universals, so it makes sense that we would commentate on our daily droll of
life, especially the moments that step outside our daily humdrum.
However, the internet is not simply
a diary. Personal observation alone does not a culture create: it is only
through sharing these experiences with others that a culture is created, and
usually these cultures have a theme. Why? Because when several people share
similar stories, they bond over their shared experiences, and whatever else
they may have in common, to create a community and identity.
If this it true, then it cannot be
denied that the internet culture is largely based around the consumption of culture itself. As this parody of a map of Tumblr so clearly indicates, the
largest groups that have earned some form of identification is the fan culture. Everything from sports to
cooking is included in this expansive subculture, but by far the largest and
most omnipresent is that of the Fiction Fan Culture.
This makes sense of course:
narrative storytelling has always been a common-ground basis of connection
between human beings, as well as an effective and potent means of communicating
cultural traditions, values, and belief systems. The most effective narratives
were of course the ones whose values transcended that particular, distinct
culture, reflecting a much deeper set of universally held beliefs. Narrative
fiction, including everything from Disney to DreamWorks films, Marvel to DC
Comics, BBC’s Sherlock to HBO’s Game of Thrones, Harry Potter to The Fault in
Our Stars, are all stories which explain these transcendent values in a new
and interesting way.
Naturally then, people gravitate
towards these identifiers and groups online. It is far easier to confess to being
a Whovian or Potternerd or even Brony than it is to confess being a Catholic or
Muslim or Jew. Because of the internet’s anonymity, coupled with the fact that
time does not end a conversation, defending or even simply discussing religion
online is such a tiring concept that it prevents people from even daring to
admit their religious beliefs when they can prove controversial.
Given this, it must be acknowledged
that the majority of conversations on the internet are not directed in some aim
to which “man develops and perfects this many bodily and spiritual qualities” (Gaudium et Spes, 53). I am not saying that fan culture is wholly disadvantageous and has no counterpart in reality,
or that fans avert themselves from renewing perceptions
of cultural identities from the underground. After all, as Anais Nin says, “It is
the function of art to renew our perception,” and fan culture largely reviews,
analyzes, and renews those perceptions by extension of participating, quite proactively, in such art.
The fact of the matter is however,
that if bonding over your love of Disney is far easier than bonding over your
spirituality, then a larger portion of your conversation online with your
fellow group will be concerned with that fandom’s subject matter. The internet
fan culture becomes a consumption of culture itself. I may be able to brag that
the greatest use I have made of my 2 years of philosophy classes were analyzing the nature of titans in Attack on Titan, but
the matter remains disconnected from my spirituality and personal growth.
And this
is not simply true of fan culture, either.
The internet itself is a flood of
information; it was previously hailed as “the Information Superhighway” during its first peak of public awareness in
the 1990’s. The problem with this flood of information is that one is so bombarded
with updates on what is happening on by the minute if not by the second, that
reflection on these occurrences is swept by the wayside to make room for more
information to consume. The internet’s ability to gather and re-distribute information,
considered its greatest asset, is also its biggest flaw.
Again, I am not saying that the
internet culture is incapable of producing ideas that are more thought-provoking than the average slew of information, nor is
it impossible to share thoughtful discussion on matters pertinent to this world.
The fact of the matter is simply
this: by and large, internet culture is not concerned with spiritual,
developmental growth in a person, as Gaudium
et Spes desires any culture to be. Like television, the internet’s
superhighway of information has largely been used as the superhighway of entertainment. And shouldn’t the
Vatican be at least mildly concerned with a community that is largely replacing
time that could be devoted to personal growth with mindless entertainment?