The internet was supposed to be a tool

Now it's where we live. Can we go back?

I wasn’t around when the modern internet was invented. By the time I was old enough to use a computer, the internet was advanced enough to facilitate long Club Penguin and Webkinz sessions, its history boiled down to what we now see in textbooks and (ironically) online. Beyond what I know from dry high school classes and the internet itself, I can’t claim to know what went through the heads of the creators of the worldwide web back in 1983—what they dreamed of, what they feared, what they thought the internet could achieve.

I do know this, though: the internet was supposed to be a tool.

From the time the web was merely a twinkle in the government’s eye, the internet was meant to become something that made everyday life easier. It was designed to allow information that already existed or needed to exist to move quickly from one computer to another. The internet held promise as an expediter, a tool that could take a resource-intensive task and turn it into an effortless one. It was supposed to serve us.

Now it’s where we live.

Globally, internet users—which comprise 66% of the world’s population—spend an average of 6.5 hours online each day, according to digital reference library DataReportal’s 2024 study. While the internet is a nonnegotiable part of paying the bills for many of us, more than a third of that time is spent on social media. That’s right: we’re collectively spending an average of 2 hours and 23 minutes per day scrolling Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, Bluesky, Substack Notes, whatever.

Historically, I’ve heard stats like this and shrugged them off. I don’t spend that much time on social media every day, I argue, so I’m not a part of the problem. But I’ve come to notice that even when I spend, say, only 30 minutes of each day on social media, those 30 minutes are rarely intentional. They seldom serve a specific purpose. And they almost never make me happy.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. People started to Google “social media detox” all the way back in 2005, with the search term hitting an all-time high in 2021 and hovering around that degree of interest ever since. There are research papers galore about how so-called dark patterns (digital experiences engineered to trick or prey on users) and instant gratification keep social media users online far longer than they find satisfying. And I’ve lost track of the number of times my friends and I have lamented the muscle memory that leads us to open apps against our will.

But no matter how much we speak honestly about how our time on the internet isn’t always well-spent, there tends to remain a shared reflex to defend the online spaces we spend it in. Almost every time I talk to someone about spending too much time on social media, that person feels the need to laud social media’s occasional benefits, as if TikTok or Instagram is in the room with us and might be hurt otherwise. Mostly this sounds like Well, I just learn so much on TikTok, but sometimes I get a I made a friend through Instagram though or I discovered a vital part of my identity through Twitter.

Aside from the fact that reinforcing social media’s usefulness is entirely unnecessary—for better or worse, those apps aren’t going anywhere anytime soon—almost no one who talks about social media’s disadvantages is 1) attacking the actual people who use it or 2) advocating for a total social media cleanout. Instead, they’re making the point that as long as social media companies insist on making the least healthy user experiences possible, it might be a good idea to practice using social media with caution and intention.

This has never been clearer to me than it’s been since the 2024 US presidential election.

Like many left-leaning semi-hopefuls, I was confused earlier this month when Trump won the election so decisively. I had been almost certain, based on the things I saw and heard and read, that people were rejecting Trump’s violent and hateful ideology and were preparing, if reluctantly, to vote for Harris. The truth was a hard pill to swallow. Not only were my carefully-curated Instagram, Substack, and even Tumblr experiences keeping me blissfully unaware of how many people were latching onto Trump’s campaign, but social media itself (and its peripherals, like YouTube videos and podcasts) were being used to drag young people further right¹ while sowing the seeds of bigotry, entitlement, and selfishness.² Social media had done me and many of my fellow leftists dirty—twice.

Part of me is tempted to call myself naive for having thought bare-minimum decency would win based largely on what I witnessed online. But mostly I’m accepting my true naivete: that I’m not immune to the alternate realities social media sells us, and neither are the people around me.

In wondering how I can foster a better relationship with social media—which, yes, can be useful some of the time, and is also a requirement for wannabe authors—I’ve thought a lot about how these time-sucking apps fit within the internet’s larger context. Whether you subscribe to the notion that most social media platforms started with good intentions or that they sprouted from purely selfish and capitalistic aims, we can both admit that they are only one facet of the incredibly vast internet. We are both likely tired of the phenomenon that is “creating content” for the internet, as if it’s a ravenous machine that demands to be fed. (Maybe it is, but we are the ones choosing to feed it). We can also probably agree that while social media may have genuinely helped us out a few times, most of the time we spend there isn’t useful or restorative or healthy, and we can both afford to trim the fat, so to speak.

Because just as I’m not alone in lamenting social media’s draining nature, I’m also not alone in craving a radical change. Many of my friends have said that they want to spend far less time online, whether in light of the election results or because of their dwindling self esteem or in general. I’ve seen people post (yes, online, pot calling the kettle black, et cetera) about making an effort to connect with IRL³ communities, whether for their mental health or to reduce screen time or to make long-lasting friends. And with tech CEOs openly praising Trump following his electorial victory, many left-leaning voters are eager to divest their time and attention from those apps as much as possible.

There is joy and freedom and meaningful change to be found offline. And if or when we need them—like, actually need them—the internet and its most time-sucking apps will still be there. We can engage with them more effectively when we view them as tools, not where we live our lives.

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ This beautiful essay by young environmental scientist Morgan Florsheim about the irresponsibility of instilling or perpetuating climate despair.

✰ Cursed Bread by Sophie Mackintosh. This strange little novel does a great job of exploring the ways in which envy and desire intertwine; it’s the perfect late-fall literary read.

✰ A wonderful video chat I had with Auzin Ahmadi, the writer behind Soft Hobbies. It was so nice to sit down with another early-career writer and vent our frustrations about the complexities of this particular pursuit, especially during a week full of writerly rejection. I’m beyond glad to have Auzin in my corner, and if you’re not already familiar with her lovely newsletter, check it out—her dispatches are so friendly and comforting.

✰ Yet another slice of kindness from Loretta I, also delivered last week when I was feeling hella bummed. Loretta left such a thoughtful comment on my Note about experiencing a drop in motivation and hope, and I’ve kept her words in a tab on my phone ever since. “You wouldn’t overwork a torn muscle, right? Why overwork a tired heart, then?”

1. This Variety article, "Joe Rogan and the Fifth Estate: How the Podcaster and a Group of Cable News Exiles Became More Powerful Than Traditional Media,” offers just a taste of how podcasters and other pundits are red-pilling young people.

2. Check out Men Who Hate Women: From Incels to Pickup Artists by Laura Bates to learn more about how misogynist communities are targeting men online.

3. Once I saw someone suggest that we call “real life” the “brickspace,” as the internet is real life but “brickspace” implies something tangible and in-person. I find this adorable and would love to use it, but no one would know what I’m talking about, so if you’re reading this footnote, it’s now your job to help me (and this other person who coined it whom I’ve forgotten) spread the word.