Haunted by history

There is no denying that our society is in the middle of an onslaught of technological innovation, much of which is focused on allowing individuals to be connected to online networks as often as possible. In the past month smartphones, like the iPhone 4S and the Galaxy S2, and tablets from Samsung and Sony have been released, with the iPad 3 on the horizon. These devices rely on their abilities to connect to the internet at any time from any place to entice customers. Our growing addiction to this supposed luxury poses scary thoughts about the future, as a comprehensive online history of most individuals will be accessible to the diligent forager. If the present shows politicians, businessmen, professors, et al. under extreme scrutiny for limited unearthed information from their past, one can only imagine the magnifying glass under which many of us will be in 10 or 20 years. The idea implies an interesting dynamic: those who have the control to avoid the internet, who don’t need constant connection, will have a sudden upper hand.

The most obvious problems that might arise from our generation’s addiction to the internet are those related to social networks, most prominently Facebook. There exists a fundamental dilemma for the standard social network user, which is weighing the superficial social benefits of a robust online profile in the present with the potential career detriments that it might cause in the future. We all crave social internet currency—photos, comments, Facebook “likes,” retweets, links, posts, etc.—because we assume they translate into reality and prove popularity on some level. That is, we like to show that yes, we were there, and yes, we talked to that cute girl, and yes, we sipped on unknown but guessable beverages out of red cups in a dark room. Yet in the future, we cannot know how much the wealth of documentation—a picture of someone smoking a joint, a politically incorrect wall post—will haunt us in a job interview, in a background check, in an election. For those who avoid the likes of Facebook, Twitter, and other social networks, or restrict their consumption of them, this threat does not exist.

One might argue there isn’t a threat to begin with: President Obama seems to have weathered the residual doubts due to his exposed indiscretions? If he can admit to doing cocaine, what harm can, say, a little beer do? Perhaps none. But that is not where the real danger lies anyway, as the treachery of social networks is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The frightening reality is that essentially every move you make on the internet is being recorded somewhere where it can be excavated at a later date. We like to think of online profiles as colorful pages with several pictures and some vacuous chat boxes, but your real digital personality is a thorough summary of every website you visit, every email you send, and every file you download. As long as there is the motivation to uncover this information at some point, which there will be if you grow up to be a person of interest, there will be the means to do so. That means that your actions, from the innocuous ones like buying a backpack on Amazon to the disreputable ones like visiting a pornography website, are at your detractors’ disposal.

The final result of this dynamic might be negligible for two reasons. Firstly, history has shown that often we are forgiven for previous lapses in judgment or behavior. Besides the aforementioned Obama situation, the previous president George W. Bush survived his admitted battle with alcoholism and substance abuse. Secondly, we might create a level playing field where everyone’s exposed online past is mutually neutralizing. In these cases, the internet doesn’t seem to be so dangerous after all. But the unnerving converse is also quite possible. Recall Senator John Kerry’s campaign in 2004: If a single photograph of him windsurfing could undermine his likability, what might dozens of pictures, hundreds of emails, and thousands of visited websites do to you?

In the end, this consequence is ultimately not such a tragedy, as we will be left to support those who were not only able to avoid the temptation of social networks, but didn’t really consider the worldwide web that interesting of a space. Essentially, men and women who didn’t idolize the internet through the growing list of computers, tablets, smartphones would suddenly appear as the purest of all. Those people might very well be the ones we’d like in charge anyway: maybe the kid who opted to go for a walk or read a book deserves more of a chance than his peers who spent hours idly tapping away at keyboards and vapidly surfing online.

Walker Harrison is a Columbia College sophomore majoring in mathematics. He plays for the baseball team and writes for The Fed. Tough Guise runs alternate Wednesdays.