Romanticizing Serendipity
Miriam Meckel defined
serendipity thus:
“Serendipity is involved when we enter a
book store and stumble on a random book that we would have never read, had it
not been in the right place at the perfect time. It is serendipity, when we
browse through a newspaper report and suddenly find ourselves riveted by its
content even though we were neither interested nor familiar with the topic only
minutes ago.”
In the digital age, Google has been
accused of killing serendipity in two ways. First, since it can find whatever
you query for, it inevitably reduced random, aimless browsing that in turn
meant lesser odds of stumbling onto something interesting by accident. Second,
as Google stored more and data about people, it started tailoring its results
based on your past history, to show you what you liked (clicked) in the past.
The latter is what Meckel criticizes the second aspect:
“It’s a life in the rear view mirror. The
algorithms which compute all these recommendations and suggestions for us are
forever stuck in the past, as they base their calculations on our actions in
times foregone. Through the analysis and evaluation of this data, the algorithm
creates a more or less linear projection into the future of all we ever did,
desired and loved…Without serendipity’s intervention, the algorithms we created
may force us into a never-ending time-warp, dwelling forever in the status quo
of our own preferences and desires.”
In more recent time, social networking
sites like Facebook and Twitter face the same criticism. We see what our
friends like, and chances are our friends share our interests and world-view,
so we just keep seeing more and more of what we already like.
Most websites have “Most Popular
Articles” and “Trending Now” lists that display the most popular articles. So
we click on them, which then acts as a positive feedback loop to reinforce the
same lists. That is why Alan Jacobs criticized
social media, because they:
“exacerbate the gap between the
attentional haves and have-nots.”
But c’mon, isn’t all this just romanticizing
the pre-digital past? You had to pay money to read a different newspaper or
magazine than the one you already subscribed to, so were people really reading
a lot of views and topics they didn’t already care about? Which is why I
totally disagree with Jacobs when he urges us to:
“Cultivate your own genuine interests and
don't let them get crowded out by invasive species of popular but bad writing.”
Does popular necessarily mean bad? Or is
that just being snobbish?
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