Once upon a time, there was a brief outage on some social media platforms. It got fixed. The end. On the face of it, kind of a boring story.
But the widespread attention given to the blanking of suggests another, perhaps less obvious tale: the one that shows that social media platforms, like the books or newspapers or insert-medium-here of other times in history, matter more than just being entertaining pastimes.
Wait, you mean those posts from that cousin you rarely see, sharing updates from her kids含羞草研究社� lives? That reel from the influencer, introducing you to a culture or bit of knowledge you never knew? That photo collage you put up as a memorial to a loved one whose loss you含羞草研究社檙e grieving? The back-and-forth debate between people on your feed trying to one-up each other on topics that interest you?
Yes. The technologies might be recent. But the things we use them for? That taps into something age-old: Humans are wired to love stories. Telling them. Listening to them. Relating to each other and our communities through them. And, of late, showing them to the world piece by piece through our devices 含羞草研究社� so much so that one of Instagram含羞草研究社檚 primary features is called, simply, 含羞草研究社淪tories.含羞草研究社�
含羞草研究社淥ur narrative capacity is 含羞草研究社� one of the best ways through which we are able to connect with one another,含羞草研究社� says Evynn McFalls, vice president of marketing and brand at the NeuroLeadership Institute, a consultancy that incorporates neuroscience into its corporate work. 含羞草研究社淥ur brains like stories because it makes it easier for us to understand other people, other circumstances.含羞草研究社�
SOCIAL MEDIA AS A COMMUNITY OF STORIES
In his book 含羞草研究社淭he Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human,含羞草研究社� scholar Jonathan Gottschall says this: 含羞草研究社淭he human imperative to make and consume stories runs even more deeply than literature, dreams and fantasy. We are soaked to the bone in story.含羞草研究社�
And in these times, social media is so often where they含羞草研究社檙e told 含羞草研究社� whether in pictures, videos, memes, text threads or mashups of all four. People can get news and information (and OK, yes, misinformation) there, learn and possibly sympathize with others含羞草研究社� plights, see things in ways that help us make sense of the world. We tell our own stories on them, make connections with others that might not exist in any other space.
In many ways, these social spaces are where we do 含羞草研究社渉uman.含羞草研究社�
含羞草研究社淚t含羞草研究社檚 almost impossible for many people, especially in the United States, to think about their lives and communication without thinking about social media,含羞草研究社� says Samuel Woolley, an assistant professor at the University of Texas at Austin含羞草研究社檚 School of Journalism and Media.
So when they含羞草研究社檙e disrupted? Uh-oh. Threads of connection can disappear. Endorphin-generating activities get cut off. Routines 含羞草研究社� for better and for worse 含羞草研究社� are interrupted, and and storytelling hiccup and falter.
含羞草研究社淥utside of the trivial nature of these platforms, they含羞草研究社檝e also really morphed over the last 15 years into an advocacy space,含羞草研究社� says Imani Cheers, associate professor of digital storytelling at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. 含羞草研究社淭hose types of outages can really cause disruption in the passing and service of information.含羞草研究社�
It can also ratchet up the impact if the interruption comes at a moment when communication and information are perceived to be needed the most, Woolley notes: In the United States, the outage corresponded with the moments many were heading to the polls for Super Tuesday.
含羞草研究社淓ven though the recent outage only lasted a handful of hours for most people, it still resulted in a lack of access to the news,含羞草研究社� Woolley says. 含羞草研究社淎nd that含羞草研究社檚 a problem.含羞草研究社�
A CREEPING SENSE OF UNEASE?
After the outages happened Tuesday, Andy Stone, Meta含羞草研究社檚 head of communications, on X, formerly known as Twitter. 含羞草研究社淲e apologize for any inconvenience,含羞草研究社� he wrote. But for some, it was more visceral than simple inconvenience. Their stories and their online lives were at stake.
When Taylor Cole Miller, an assistant professor of communication studies at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, first realized that he wasn含羞草研究社檛 getting into his Facebook account Tuesday, his initial concern was security 含羞草研究社� that he had somehow been hacked.
Shortly afterward came creeping panic: What if he had lost almost two decades of his Facebook existence, including some connections with people he only had over the platform?
含羞草研究社淚 hesitate to say that my life flashed before my eyes, because that含羞草研究社檚 just so overwrought,含羞草研究社� he says. 含羞草研究社淏ut the fact of the matter is that as someone who含羞草研究社檚 been on Facebook for 20 years, a significant amount of my life is archived含羞草研究社� there.
含羞草研究社淢any of the ways that I connect with people is merely through Facebook. What happens if poof, it just goes away really fast? What does that mean for who I am as a person and how I interact with other people?含羞草研究社�
That type of reaction about losing something that含羞草研究社檚 so part of the fabric of one含羞草研究社檚 day speaks to the power of story to connect us, says Melanie Green, a professor in the department of communication at the University of Buffalo. And, not incidentally, to the platforms that amplify those stories.
含羞草研究社淗umans have a need to belong. We含羞草研究社檙e social species, our survival often depends on being part of groups,含羞草研究社� she says. 含羞草研究社淪tories can help us feel that sense of belongingness.含羞草研究社�
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