Sociologists, political scientists and historians all confirm the effects of rapid social change. For that matter, most Americans recognize those effects: when the world one inhabits seems different every day, when previous cultural assumptions are being upended daily, widespread disorientation and animus shouldn’t surprise us.
We are at one of those moments in human history when change–especially but certainly not exclusively the almost daily advances in technology–challenge the millions of Americans who grew up with telephones anchored to walls, written messages sent via the post office, and cars that required far more extensive human control.
I am one of the millions of older Americans who watch grandchildren using devices we only dimly understand, and struggle to comprehend the dimensions of–and arguments over–Artificial Intelligence. I’m not one of those who reject these creations out of hand, but I do recognize an uncomfortable fact: we really don’t know how these “advances” are changing human and social behavior.
And that admission brings me to what is perhaps the most pervasive and troubling of these new communication mechanisms: the proliferating social media platforms and the algorithms producing the dopamine that keeps users glued to them.
A recent article in Lincoln Square was appropriately titled, “Life Under a Clicktatorship.”
The article began by noting that the faux “Situation Room” portrayed on Trump’s social media during the Maduro kidnapping had (inadvertently?) shown a screen with X in the background.
With the best intelligence systems in the world at their fingertips, they were checking X in the midst of the mission? Combined with the curtains separating some section of Mar‑A‑Lago from the rest of the President’s resort, the images create an almost surreal air. It felt as if a group of twelve-year-old boys in a basement had been handed control of the most lethal military in history—and were using it to boost their online brands.
The article noted that Trump effectively uses social media to draw attention, reshape norms, and fuel conspiracy theories–in this case, turning “avowed MAGA isolationists into enthusiastic colonial imperialists overnight.” But the challenge we face is, as it insists, far more worrisome and widespread than the single talent of our demented President.
Social media operates like a drug. It feeds us dopamine and rewires our brains’ reward pathways, and those “unhealthy dynamics” are made worse by the anonymity offered and (as the article notes) the fact that “standing out online often demands being awful—channeling negative emotions like anger and outrage, usually based on misinformation or conspiracy theories.”
These characteristics of social media have been shown to have a profound effect on voter behavior. They also affect how policymakers use public power. The author argues–pretty persuasively–that the members of Trump’s administration aren’t just using social media to support their preferred narratives. There is evidence that many of them are deeply addicted to it.
We would be concerned if a senior government official was an alcoholic or drug addict, knowing it could impair judgment and decisionmaking. But we should be equally concerned about Pete Hegseth and Elon Musk’s social media compulsions—just as much as their alcohol or ketamine use, respectively.
The Trump administration is made up of a cabinet of posters. For many, that’s how they won Trump’s attention. The head of the FBI, for example, is a podcaster—that’s his main qualifier for the job.
They view the world through a social media lens in a way that is plausibly corrupting their judgment and undermining their performance.
Thanks to the nature of the current information environment, most Americans occupy information “bubbles.” I certainly do, and I rather imagine most of my subscribers are right in there with me. That said, most ordinary people still don’t spend much time on social media–a fact that motivates those the article dubs “outrage farmers” to compete for followers by engaging in outrage and employing bots programmed to exacerbate division.
Those who spend excessive time online exhibit more and more extreme behaviors in order to keep the dopamine coming. And as the author points out, living in these bubbles distorts reality far more for the rich and powerful, who already have limited contact with ordinary people.
When government officials are addicted to social media, they prioritize pleasing their audiences rather than their constituents.
For instance, the Podcaster/Director of the FBI reportedly fired veteran FBI leaders to curry favor with online critics. USAID was the first federal agency killed by online conspiracy theories—with tragic results.
At a time when Americans are already deeply polarized–social media addiction is deepening our divisions. It’s a problem.
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