Virality is in.
What was once 15 Minutes of Fame is now something far more timeless.
Ever since the early days of YouTube, making it big on the Internet has meant instant recognition. Today, it’s an obsession.
We can’t help ourselves. We want to be known, to be popular. It only takes one lasting visual —one that’s accessible by billions of people in an instant — for us to achieve that goal.
So, we trip over ourselves to star in creative moments. We do outlandish and embarrassing things on camera to build our global name. We master the art of the Meme and the GIF — two terms only geeks knew of 15 years ago — in order to plaster our face on them in head-turning ways.
Since virality is our golden ticket to instant stardom, sacrificing our dignity for an eternity in the sun seems worthwhile.
But it cuts both ways. Are we really ready to live with that double edge?
I’m not talking about the consequences of being eternally known as the person who screwed up an exercise ball trick. Or as one of the soldiers who gave a monkey a loaded AK-47. (For the love of God, do not try this. Ever.)
Those infamous videos are the result of poor decisions. As far as I’m concerned, the people who humiliated themselves in them can reap what they sow.
No, I’m talking about the Pandora’s Box our viral obsession unleashes.
You see, our continual quest to stoke our ego has turned virality into an untamed beast. We can now go viral at any time, even when we’re not looking to. And if we’re caught in a moment of misfortune with cameras rolling, we could end up wearing that unwanted humiliation like a scarlet letter for the rest of our lives.
Consider Dr. David Dao. If you don’t recognize that name, you’re part of the problem. Dr. Dao is the man you saw being yanked out of his seat and violently dragged off of a United Airlines plane so that other extra airline employees could take his seat. You saw it because another passenger posted a harrowing video of the ordeal on Twitter, a video that immediately went viral.
This incident led to universal outrage. United’s stock prices took a beating, and they stand to lose hundreds of millions of dollars in future business because of their tarnished reputation. The longstanding procedure of overbooking flights — by both United and its rival airlines — has also come into question.
But, do you know what wasn’t discussed? How all of this would affect Dr. Dao.
Sure, there were the musings of how much money he would stand to gain from an upcoming lawsuit against United Airlines. There was the press conference, where Dao’s lawyer claimed Dao was more terrified as he was being dragged off that flight in Chicago than he was when he fled Saigon in 1975. There was some journalistic muckraking in regards to his troubled past.
What there wasn’t was compassion for the man’s predicament as a victim of virality.
Now, maybe I’m more empathetic than most, but I feel that’s not right. No amount of money from United’s coffers will ever reconcile Dr. Dao’s unwanted moment of fame. He will be known for the rest of the life as the bloodied man being dragged down the aisle of a plane by airport police as passengers watch in horror.
His chances of making a more dignified name for himself are ruined.
Dr. Dao most assuredly didn’t want any of this. He just wanted to make it back to Louisville and get on with his life.
Thanks to a callous bout of misfortune, a smartphone video camera and a societal thirst for virality, he will never have that chance.
That’s a damned shame.
So, let this be a lesson. One that teaches us to be cognizant of the cost of our viral obsession. One that illustrates the point that virality can not only improve lives, but also ruin them.
For while it’s easier than ever for us to connect and build a name for ourselves in the era we live in, we must understand that this rising tide does not lift all boats.
Proceed with caution.