Carriers of contagion.
con-ta-gion (noun): a disease that is or may be transmitted by direct or indirect contact; the tendency to spread, as of a doctrine, influence, or emotional state; the spread of a behavior pattern, attitude, or emotion from person to person or group to group through suggestion, propaganda, rumor, or imitation.
American Heritage® Dictionary
Ever wonder how half-baked ideas get traction? Ever wonder who passes around the latest panicky rumor?
I know I have. Especially now, as rumors fly and fears abound.
And as the Internet replaces the mass media, the street corner and the kitchen table as a leading source of rumor and half-baked ideas, I wonder about the faces behind the posts, posts that fervently and feverishly recycle an old error or spread a new one, posts that get it earnestly, virulently and completely 180 degrees wrong.
Because those posters invariably "look" normal. They rarely post all in caps. Their messages are hardly ever certifiably THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR! wacko. Their spelling and sentence construction is serviceable, or at least up to the standards of the Internet, suggesting that frequent Internet users really are as educated as the studies say.
Still, we never know who's out there wielding ideas and throwing words against the wall. Is that a slumming Ben Bernanke posting on economic trends incognito, or is it some college freshman showing off buzzwords he found in his Econ 1A textbook? Is it an insider who's been there and done that and, most important, understands what he's been through, or is it some badly spooked nobody?
Faceless anonymity is one of the biggest drawbacks to uncritically absorbing news, information and capital T truth from the Internet. Aside from decent spelling and grammar, posters don't give us any of the usual cues, the ones we use face-to-face to judge credibility. And like any stranger, we don't know their history and baggage, aside from whatever they choose to tell us.
So in the dissemination of ideas, the Internet is truly a level playing field. No one is ever turned away. Everyone gets a chance to speak. Everyone is credible, unless they have a contrary opinion.
But is everyone out there rational? The question is particularly appropriate today, as rumors spread and even understated truths from credible sources sound scary.
A recent experience may throw some light in this dark corner. A neighbor has a roomer who certainly appears credible. He's in his early thirties. He drives a nice car. He has a good job with a major employer. He's been married (and divorced). Before the divorce, he owned his own home. He's active in his church, and has a wide circle of family and friends.
We'll call this paragon "Roomer", pun intended.
Roomer is a happy-go-lucky guy, but a few days ago he comes home beside himself. He tells his landlord, my neighbor, a woman in her 80s with a multitude of infirmities including a bad heart, that THE END IS NEAR! "Our financial system is heading for ruin! We've gotta buy candles and batteries! We need a six months supply of canned food in the garage!"
When I heard this later I wondered if he was gearing up for another Great Depression or another 1906 Earthquake.
What's got our normally cheerful Roomer so riled? His father, who's decided that today would be a good day to put the fear of God in Roomer. "Gee, thanks Dad", you might say, but I think I know where Dad's coming from.
Roomer only looks solid. Roomer has the bells and whistles of maturity—nice car, good job, first divorce under his belt—but Roomer is 33 going on 18. As I've heard my neighbor describe this "good boy" over the past year, it's apparent that Roomer has "issues": commitment "issues", responsibility "issues", maturity "issues". Roomer is the kind of guy who can over-promise and under-deliver and still feel good about himself. Roomer lives for today and figures, if he figures at all, that tomorrow will take care of itself. Not coincidentally, Roomer goes nowhere slowly. Dad sees this lack of forward progress and thinks Roomer needs a swift kick in the pants, which he delivers.
Maybe Dad laid it on a bit thick. Or maybe he really does believe THE END IS NEAR! Or maybe he's figured out, like a lot of people and, for that matter, like a lot of institutions and organizations, that scaring the whee out of people is the best way to get their attention and keep it. Or maybe—and lots of people are like this—he just enjoys seeing that deer-in-the-headlights look.
But Roomer isn't the most mature or sophisticated consumer of half-baked ideas and rumor, so he panics and over-reacts. Roomer gallops off in several directions at once to alert the countryside.
This time the contagion stops with my neighbor, who laughs off Roomer's hysteria, albeit nervously. She's been through the Great Depression, World War II, the Red Scare, riots in the streets, gas lines and all the other excitement life's served up over the past eighty-plus years. Experience! What a wonderful antidote to contagion! It takes a lot to get my neighbor upset.
And what a wealth of experience! But she doesn't share it on the Internet. No, she doesn't even own a computer.
But let's say my neighbor isn't eighty-something, but considerably younger. Let's say my neighbor hasn't known Roomer most of his life, and knows in her heart that Roomer is a decent boy who won't grow up. Let's say she doesn't know Roomer at all, except as a plausible voice in the next cubicle or on the Internet.
Sharing his insights and experience.
I wonder what kind of Internet life Roomer has? Wouldn't it be a panic if Roomer blogged?
"Today I took out the trash and started a panic."