The internet has been feeling more than lackluster these days. From being bombarded with ads, to constantly having our data shuffled around from app to app, the shift to prioritizing convenience over privacy has come back to bite us in the ass. The internet just doesn't feel happy and wholesome like it used to. Community seems to be dwindling and our lifeline feels so directly attached to opening up social media, just to see what others are doing. Many of us rely on updates served to us by the algorithm. Ah, the dreaded algo. It shows you what it wants, when it wants; a roulette of information. Was this posted days ago, maybe weeks? Is it a paid partnership or an ad? Is it actually a suggested post? What about your friend who had a baby, haven't seen much of them lately? Get ready to play… Who's Getting Suppressed By The Algorithm!
When referring to the internet as "dead," I don't just mean in the colloquial way that it's not as fun as it used to be, but rather in recent years, it's become a graveyard of people that don't actually exist. In Vanessa Wingårdh's video essay, The Internet is Dying: AI, Bots, and Human Contact, she discusses that most people responding to posts and online conversations are bots. She goes on to say that bots make half of all internet traffic, with the numbers dropping each year. Anonymous automation is on the rise, and it's incredibly annoying. Humans have been replaced by bot networks, typically run by humans (now, more likely by AI) who manage dozens of accounts, then make the bots communicate to increase the credibility of these individual accounts online. It’s a feedback loop of fake people talking to each other. Scary, right?
Wingårdh refers to the idea of social media platforms as "walled gardens," requiring you to make an account with the website, further locking you in. Now, they have your data and they know what kind of content to show you; it’s your personalized interests at the drop of the hat. You’re tethered to the platform, it's an endless feed of things for you, with the added possibility of succumbing to an ad for a new, cool product you definitely need. Simply put, its all about the Benjamins, baby.
The infinite web has shrunk down to a handful of massive corporations. If we look at the top 20 most visited sites on the internet, all are recognizable. There's no gems–nothing unique. Just the same walled gardens that everyone else is also trapped in, each one demanding sign-ups, serving algorithmic feeds, hiding content behind paywalls. The internet hasn't just gotten smaller, it's a house of mirrors. Every platform reflecting the same engagement tactics, the same rage bait, and the same algorithmic manipulation. A non-user spotted this years ago—they called it. We traded the wild, infinite web for the corporate controlled loop of the same five sides. We're no longer surfing the internet. Instead, we're trapped in their web.
There were once the days of MySpace, when we all impressively taught ourselves to code in a matter of days. I miss when my brain was mushy—the world was my oyster! There was DevianArt, GeoCities, Tumblr, LiveJournal, Xanga, and more. All of these platforms were uniting people from different ages and generations; it was the purest form of the internet. It was The Web. You were free, and it was free.
In an video essay by content creator Mina Le, why is social media not fun anymore?, she dives into how the web simply isn't how it used to be, and explains that we've gotten addicted to platforms that don't bring us joy.
In March 2016, Instagram began switching its feed from chronological to an algorithmic arrangement. Meaning that rather than seeing posts in the order they were published on the site, we were seeing posts based on how well they perform, which was based on the number of likes and comments. Now, our images were literally competing with each other.
In my quest to fight back against the algorithms and carve out a space for myself where I could be creative and build community, I began to look for alternatives. The return to a physical connection is an the obvious first choice. A letter or a phone call, or better yet an in-person hangout, but these options aren't always possible for everyone. In my last essay, I had shared that I was already looking into getting a flip phone (it's always a siren song, i'll tell ya...) and this felt like a natural progression from that. I've also seen the way Gen Z and Gen Alpha are embracing old tech. They've never known a life without phones or internet. Thankfully, I can still remember the internet before endless scroll.
In January 2024, T.M. Brown wrote a piece for the Los Angeles Review of Books, reviewing Kyle Chaka's book, Filterworld: How Algorithms Flattened Culture. Brown begins the essay by mentioning something called "The Mechanical Turk," a concept that frequently pops up in Chaka's book. Brown explains that in 1770, the Hungarian inventor Wolfgang von Kempelen created a device that consisted of a large cabinet with a "turbaned mannequin" sitting in front of a chessboard. The mannequin, meant to impress Empress Maria Theresa, proceeded to open a can of whoop-ass on every single person it played chess with. Of course, almost a century after the mannequin had beat it's first opponent, it was revealed that there was a deceptive chess master hiding inside the cabinet. Shocker! Chaka compares the likeness of the "Mechanical Turk" to our comprehension of the algorithm on a basic level.
We can't always tell the difference between technology working and the illusion of technology working, but the perception may be just as impactful in the end, as the reality.
Being dissatisfied with the current state of the internet has forced me to think about what my life look like sans social media. I know it's possible, but I also can't afford to go cold turkey. I have more than a few connections and internet friends, I enjoy sending memes to my friends and family, and it's a part of what I do for work. So, abandoning my Instagram and running off barefoot and screaming into the woods just isn't plausible for me right now. I hope one day it will be.
In my research, I was met with the idea of "Digital Gardening,” referring to the curation and mindful consumption of media. It seemed that people were actively researching and looking for topics that they liked, and rejecting the recommendations of the algorithm. Another piece of the puzzle within digital gardening is the collection of these digital items. Pictures, essays, music, videos, etc. would be organized into different categories, based on topic. For example, let’s say you've always been interested in sewing, so you start off small by watching sewing tutorials. But during your digging, you stumble across a PDF on the history of sewing and you save that. Then, you find an interview with the worlds most famous sew-er (lol, stay with me here), and all of the sudden you're listening to a TED Talk by them, come across their memoir, and then hear about who they get their inspiration from. Suddenly, a whole new world has opened up. You've followed the thread and created this garden of knowledge for yourself. It's like grad school without the deadline of a thesis or the crippling weight of student debt.
Higher education trauma aside, I think that one of the most valuable things I learned in grad school was being able to fully throw myself into these rabbit holes. Digital gardening offers a way to organize everything and houses your creative endeavors. What’s thrilling is that it's something that hasn't already been prepacked and served to me with a bow. Yes, hearing a song on a TikTok and getting into an artist's music that way is equally valid, but I think that so much has been lost in the thrill of an organic discovery. And sharing these discoveries with others is also exciting. It's those moments when you ask someone about a niche topic they haven't heard of, and you get the chance to be the first one to tell them. Or maybe even better, they already know about it, and can't wait to tell you about a book or article that they want to share with you. That's what community feels like to me—to really be seen and connect with people in ways that Meta literally could never dream of. They wish though.
In an incredible detailed essay by designer, developer, and anthropologist Maggie Appleton, A Brief History & Ethos of the Digital Garden, she talks about how digital gardening isn't a new concept by any means and can actually be traced back to 1998 by Mark Bernstein, who's own essay, Hypertext Gardens, appeared to be the first recorded mention of the term. Bernstein was part of the "early hypertext crowd," a group of web developers who were trying to figure out how to arrange and present this new way of collecting. Appleton touches on something similar to what I mentioned, that following one theme or personal interest can shift into something greater that allows us to both connect with others and ourselves:
The garden is our counterbalance. Gardens present information in a richly linked landscape that grows slowly over time. Everything is arranged and connected in ways that allow you to explore. Think about the way Wikipedia works when you’re hopping from Bolshevism to Celestial Mechanics to Dunbar’s Number. It’s hyperlinking at it’s best. You get to actively choose which curiosity trail to follow, rather than defaulting to the algorithmically-filtered ephemeral stream. The garden helps us move away from time-bound streams and into contextual knowledge spaces.
This idea of digital gardening had me thinking of where would I could put all these cool discoveries. Although the ethos of digital gardening comes from an anti-performative place (meaning your research is meant for only you), I still wanted to share some of my findings with the world, hoping to connect with others like me. Now enter: The Indie Web. There are quite a few people who want to revive the corners of the internet that allowed us to share all of our findings, and not just the old websites, but the older styles as well. They embrace the analog, the slow loading speed, and the Windows95 aesthetic with big cursors and a limited color palette. The challenge is making something customizable for yourself, within certain limitations. You have to learn to navigate a digital world that was likely before your time, which can be daunting. But it's also a different level of nostalgia—a kind of revival. How can we, in an age when everything is "meant for you" re-learn what we like and what we want?
Real internet communities allow for a different kind of connection. We aren't confined within the rules and regulations of one app. We're just there, on the internet, creating weird stuff to share. Take the concept of a junk drawer: all of the little bits and bobs from your lifetime, the ripped pieces of paper, the McDonald's Happy Meal Toys, the photographs, and receipts you never threw away. Meet: Oopsie Doodle. It's a website that functions as a digital junk drawer. June Doodle from Minnesota created a website where they could share all of the things they've collected on the internet. June has everything from collages, fiber arts, zines, and even a page of collections, which is exactly what it sounds like: scans of all different kinds of found objects. It's an archivists dream come true. If that's not your speed, maybe something that looks more like retro web game will pique your interests. Meet Ribo Zone. When you open the website, you're met with a muted-tone pixel art scene of a laboratory, but move your cursor along each object and they animate, opening to different sections of the website. Find yourself looking at "Drawings for Music" (self-explanatory) or maybe you want to look at the Bug Zone, formerly an Instagram page dedicated to bugs, which now has its own subsection with a log of images and notes. The creator, Loren, a millennial molecular biologist from Connecticut, has created a world in which each link on their site opens up a new and very different portal of their interests. Then we have The 404 City, the blog of an anonymous high school student who has taught themselves to code and simply made a website to share their web design knowledge with the public. And isn’t the sharing of technology and making education accessible what this is all about?
I too, took it upon myself to also try to build a website on my own, and failed miserably. (cue laugh track) Aside from the fact that I greatly underestimated how much work it took to get the bare bones of a working website up and running, I was thankful that the information was readily available. How is it that I was able to find dozens of free links, guides, and detailed YouTube tutorials showing me which apps I needed and what was the best way to start? Many of these self-taught people had created their own coding communities, ones in which they were constantly sharing updates along with new, and more efficient ways to do things.
And here's a list of other cool things I came across:
seven39, a social media site, but it’s only open from 7:39 to 10:39 EST. It’s called 7:39 because that domain name was available. Incredible.
Record Club, a social music network that allows you to discover and share music with friends.
One a Month Club, a directory of creators who connect people with memberships that are all $1 a month. Essentially, it exists to help people with independent projects find supporters who are willing to pay, but without gimmicks for either parties.
SpaceHey, a MySpace dupe.
Good Song Club, a community to share good music recs that you've found on YouTube.
Gossip's Web, a giant directory of handmade webpages, organized by interest.
River, a seemingly very sleek Instagram dupe.
CommonPlace.Day, where people create accounts and can make public entries about random things.
Ooh Directory, a website that has over 2000+ blogs on different topics.
Imgs, a "show and tell for photographers."
City Guesser, a website that shows you video footage and you have to guess the location.
Window Swap, watch people's windows (from INSIDE the house, not outside, lol, it’s consensual).
My final thoughts? I think I’m just happy to admit that the internet can still be fun, and a little weird. But with that, I have to undo my own reliance on algorithms, and stop expecting the web to be so all-knowing. Being in the drivers seat of my own interests has opened me up to a whole new world, reminding me of life when things were just one little discovery after the next. Exploring takes effort and learning new things is, in fact, challenging, which is something I might have forgotten about. Long Live The Indie Web!
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