The Whole World Is Addicted To Outrage

I’ve been thinking on it, and I don’t think we’re addicted to social media. I think we’re addicted to outrage. Somewhere along the way, being mildly annoyed stopped being enough. We now require full emotional combustion before breakfast.

You can wake up in the morning, make a coffee, open your phone and within thirty seconds discover seventeen things you’re supposed to be pissed off about. A celebrity said something stupid. A politician said something stupid (when don’t they?)

Someone was offended by something stupid. Someone else was offended by the people who were offended by the stupid thing. Then another group got offended by them. And now everyone is pissed off. By 8:15am, you haven't even put undies on and you've already mentally fought three wars and told a politician to shut up.

The internet rewards outrage because it is engagement. Nobody shares a post that says, "Well, that's a reasonably balanced point of view." No. They share the one that makes them want to throw their phone through a window.

The algorithms know this. The system isn't broken. The system is working perfectly.

We're the problem.

I watch people online looking for reasons to be angry. Not finding them, they create them. A joke becomes an international incident. A typo becomes evidence of moral collapse. Someone accidentally uses the wrong word and suddenly they're being discussed like they've personally caused the fall of civilisation.

It's exhausting.…

The funny thing is most of us are living ordinary lives. We're walking the dog. Doing the washing. Trying to remember why we walked into the kitchen and standing for two minutes until you remember!

The world has always had problems. Serious ones.

Wars.

Poverty.

Crime.

Disease.

But now we're also expected to be emotionally invested in every minor disagreement occurring on every corner of the planet simultaneously.

No wonder everyone is tired.

We've become outrage collectors.

We gather grievances like other people collect stamps. "I can't believe this happened." "Wait until you hear about this." "Oh, that's nothing. Here's something even worse." The strangest part is how quickly yesterday's outrage disappears.

Remember the thing everyone was furious about three weeks ago? No? Exactly. Neither does anyone else.  Because we've already moved on to the next emergency.

The outrage machine must constantly be fed. Meanwhile, outside, the sun is still shining. People are walking their dogs. Kids are kicking footballs.

Most of life remains stubbornly normal. Maybe that's why outrage sells so well. Normal doesn't generate clicks.

Peace doesn't trend.

Contentment doesn't go viral.

But anger?

Anger is internet gold.

So these days, when the latest global catastrophe appears in my feed and complete strangers demand my immediate emotional participation, I sometimes do something radical.

I put my phone down.

I make a cup of tea.

I pat my dog Sharpie.

I ignore everyone.

And somehow, despite my lack of outrage, the world keeps turning.

Who knew?