Who do you
What do you trust
Those are two questions
people have asked themselves since people with sufficiently large brains evolved
enough to ask questions. Our social fabric and political institutions rely
largely on trust. If you need to verify every statement, word, intention, motive
for reliability, truthfulness, and integrity, you will need to get up much
earlier every day and be prepared to accomplish much less even though you have
The problem is our brains
are large enough to ask the right questions, but not large enough from getting
fooled a great deal of the time. The gap between asking the right questions and
relying on the wrong information has grown in cyberspace.
There’s no need to pretend
that the analogue world was a fortress of trust, integrity, and honesty. Our
species has a long history of cheats, free riders, charlatans, and con
Holden Caulfield, J.D.
Salinger’s immortal teenager in The
Catcher in the Rye, hated ‘phonies’ who were ‘fakes’ by another name. Holden
was a product of the 1940s and 1950s. Fakes are sometimes good. Like in an
American style football game, the quarterback who fakes handing off the football
to the full back, pulls back and throws to the wide receiver for a winning
touchdown. That quarterback is a hero. The football hero’s use of the fake is
celebrated, rewarded and glorified.
Mostly thought, we
understand that ‘fakes’ like in antiques, smiles, and Gucci handbags carry
disapproval, social punishment, and possible criminal charges. Like Holden, we
think of these people and their fakes as phonies. We don’t much like phonies
anymore than Holden did.
So what is behind the
‘fake’ in cyberspace? The beauty of capitalism is the ability of wily
entrepreneurs to spot and exploit market demands. The New York Times has an article on how
entertainers, actors, musicians, politicians and authors who wish for others to
judge them as successful and popular have been into the marketplace to buy fake
Has there ever been a time
when the demand for status has suffered a recession or depression? If you find
such a time and place, please get back to me. Otherwise, I am proceeding in this
essay on the assumption that the graph for status demand shows a universal
upward trend. What makes entrepreneurs rich is, they don’t fight this flaw in
human nature, they find a way to make money from it.
It is a rough and tough
digital and analogue marketplace where everyone wants to be ‘liked’ and everyone
is looking for an edge or shortcut to stardom, election, or a bestseller. There
is the hard way—luck plays a factor—where the person relies on achieving
recognition and success through talent, creativity, hard work, and timing. We
live in the big easy. Why not leap over the others trying to do exactly what you
are doing but seem to be gaining more recognition and buy a couple of plane
loads of new passengers who arrive at your personal airport.
Watch them file off the
plane, smiling, waving, telling the world how much they love and admire you and
hang on your every 140-word plug of your latest gig, sale, book, blog,
appearance, or that nice salad you had for lunch.
All of those Twitter
followers—the statistics are there in public for all to see— admire you. They
want to support you as a special, talented genius. They can’t wait to buy what
you have to offer, tell their friends about how they bought everything you
produce, and write glowing reviews and tweets about you as if every day is Oscar
night and you won in five separate categories but couldn’t accept as you were in
Stockholm receiving a Nobel Prize.
If you want to increase
the number of people who follow you on Twitter, you can go to a place and buy
new followers. At fiverr you can shell
out $5 for 1,000. There are according to the NYT article many such sites.
Cyberspace has evolved an entire market based on fakery. The ecology of
Cyberspace has always been swimming with sharks. Until recently no one knew how
many of the sharks were fake. In the case of many ‘celebrity’ personalities, it
seems the aquarium they’ve created, if the fakes are stripped out, reveals a
couple of minnows hugging the glass at the far end, hiding behind a fake rock.
You can now check out that aquarium by going to a website called Faker Status People to expose
the empty aquarium—or so it claims.
Holden Caulfield, that
perpetual teenager warned us about the phonies. We need to update Holden’s
world, our world, with the idea that digital worlds are filled with those who
wish to ‘game’ the system; they see a zero sum game, and will pay any amount, do
anything, write or say anything, that builds the illusory aquarium and invites
you in to see the glory of their achievement.
Cyberspace has made every
one of us a private detective. You need to search and verify claims. Your
default should be skeptical and leery of big claims and numbers. Routinely use
and update tools online to verify claims and numbers before you believe the
number of fans online are real fans.
Assume there is a vast
digital cemetery of ghost fans who haunt you screen and urge you to see a film,
buy a book, watch a comic, or listen to a singer or band. We live in the land of
ghosts in the machine (Arthur Koestler died too soon to witness his prediction).
Only with one difference: ghosts were, by tradition, once people. Online large
numbers of the fake followers were more likely bots than real people. Bots,
zombies or ghosts, the fake Twitter followers are marching across your screen,
and pretending to be alive.
You are Vincent Calvino.
Look out for the ambush. Watch out for the conmen. Finding what is popular and
good has never been easy as it is often lost in the haze and noise of a busy
marketplace. There are no shortcuts. No one will look out for you
The same applies to
status—those who seek shortcuts are ultimately exposed for their fakery. The
peacock having lost its feathers is a strangely lonely, pathetic, naked bird. No
one wants to mate with a loser. That is the message. Peacock feathers fall in a
cyberspace rainstorm as we call the bluff. All eyes turn to watch the sky turn
colorful, thick with beautiful fake feathers, like a good Gabriel García
Márquez’s novel, knowing we will never look at the sky quite the same way