The beginning of the 21^st century has been defined by the internet.  We all think we know how it has reshaped human life because we appreciate the apparent advances in communication and information it has brought.  But there is also a darker side to the story of the internet: a paradox of isolation in an increasingly connected world; a world in which the elimination of loneliness has come at the cost of our privacy and individuality, and has somehow left us feeling emptier than before.

‘Surfing the web’ never made any sense to me and is a terrible metaphor, because one cannot surf on a web.  The image of surfing is of great energy, freedom, elation and is a transient process.  Surfing is a fun, quick, simple and occasional activity.  To navigate a web you move between its nodes along their interconnecting lines like a fly along a spider’s web.  The spider weaves the web, adding new connections and nodes in time.  In reality though, we are all spiders travelling inside the web, creating and maintaining connections and nodes for each-other and ourselves.  It’s as if, almost as unconsciously as spiders, we are constructing some sort of global supra-human brain with servers for neurones and fibre optic cables for synapses.  Perhaps as in Isaac Asimov’s short story “The Last Question” our own minds will eventually become one with the internet and each other’s until we find ourselves as one unified consciousness.  This situation is far off, but if it’s possible, probably closer than we imagine, because technology improves exponentially and our brains intuitively predict linearly.  It may even be too far off to be relevant today, but I think this singularity of ultimate connectedness to the point of being one structure, the ultimate sacrifice of individuality and complete removal from familiar physical reality is the mutual destination humans and the internet are on course for.  Although whether we will reach a technology singularity or not is speculative, it is useful to bear this possibility in mind when looking for the effects of the internet on our lives today. 

Helpfully or malevolently, the internet is creeping closer and closer to our brains.  The first computers with access to the internet were in laboratories and offices, making them completely separate from Humans and difficult to access.  The internet then moved in with us at home, but was slow and frustrating and so was only used sparsely.  Broadband then drew us closer and we began to spend more and more time on it as more of us created information to feast on.  Wi-Fi and the laptop untethered the internet from the desk and allowed us to take it with us around our houses and between work and home – emails could be answered at work and then after dinner.  We spent even more time online.  Then came smart phones, fast mobile internet and free public Wi-Fi – the internet had now jumped from the kitchen table into our pocket and was carried in our clothing like a pet rat wherever we moved.  And like a pet, it demanded our attention more and more and even gained our love and affections as we found that scrolling through Facebook and news became almost as pacifying as stroking a pet, and was also unexpectedly addictive.  It’s now as if almost everyone has a pet in their pocket or handbag.  Out at restaurants or around the dinner table, large groups of people are distracted by their needy pets and tend to them unashamedly.  This inevitably disrupts and even blocks conversation between humans, but in reality we’re all petting the same animal.  In the last two years the internet has clambered out of our pockets and along our arms onto our wrists and up onto our faces and now looks us directly in the eye in the form of google glass and virtual reality goggles.  Contact lenses are the next step in augmented reality and if this progression continues then a direct skull implant awaits us.  If we think of how quickly the internet moved from a few offices around the world to directly in front of our eyes then how long will it take before it is literally part of our minds?  If we remember that even the rate of progress is increasing exponentially then it should be possible surprisingly soon.  Whether we actually desire such an intrusion is another question and this may be the most powerful limiting pressure.

It is hard to imagine a life so much lived in the internet which could also be fully lived in the spatial world around us.  I believe this splitting of our time and our lives between the two realities we inhabit is already a lifestyle issue today.  Internet addiction and internet-induced social anxiety are largely unrecognised, but real, and wherever we look, people are distracted and distanced from their immediate surroundings and people.  The more we live in the internet the less we live in reality.  For each of us, and society as a whole, a decision looms over which reality to choose.

Quite possibly I’m painting too gloomy a future.  The internet allows us instant access to a vast pool of knowledge and is perhaps the greatest expression of freedom of expression yet realised.  It undoubtedly makes research and communication quicker and easier, and provides opportunities we’d not have without it, even revolutions have been started by the medium governments struggle to stifle.  But perhaps this all comes at a cost.  For every nugget of truth there exists misinformation and sensationalism, conspiracy theories, raw bigotry, cyberbullying, pornography and immoral trading.  As soon as children learn to access the internet a nuclear chain reaction of unregulated and unending stimulation begins.  Getting what you want immediately is desired, but very unhealthy because dopamine is released in the brain too often and in too great a quantity.  We simply aren’t evolving as fast as the technology we create and our brains are already showing signs of being unable to healthily digest the fruits of the internet. 

The simultaneous rise of the internet and depression is probably not coincidental.  There is even a new segment of society in Japan known as Hikikomori; people who completely withdraw from outside life and social interaction, often living in computer games and socialising only with virtual girlfriends and boyfriends.  This shows that life can be almost completely lived in the internet today and this will only become easier in the future. 

I don’t think it’s just social recluses who are effected by absorption in the internet, however.  It may not be obvious what harm constant sharing of one’s life on social media can do to immediate enjoyment of it, but this is a habit which affects many ‘normal’ people.  The fact that many of us will take photographs of food before eating it deeply troubles me.  This is a statement.  We would rather disrupt the moment of anticipation when the waiter or waitress places a steaming dish of beautiful food; the aroma, the heat, the shine of the sauce and the careful presentation put before us as a temptation of imminent pleasure to take out a mobile phone and take several photographs and then share them on Facebook to people who are sitting bored at home and have nothing better to do than look at the food another human being they barely know is about to eat. If they would only put down their phone, pick up a fork and put it in their mouth; by which time the food has cooled, conversation has not been made with the waiter or the company at the restaurant and the gleeful moment portrayed in the photo has been completely disrupted by the uncouth use of a phone at the dinner table, leaving the company with a cold uneasy feeling of dissatisfaction and longing for the visceral moment they so anticipated when booking the restaurant.  The flow of conversation has been disrupted by the internet’s competition for attention and the company devalued by the phone-user’s obvious desire to communicate with everyone else who isn’t in the restaurant.  Subsequently, others at the table will probably become bored with each other and begin to browse Facebook and will, lacking any sense of irony, show the world just how much of a good time they too are having by liking or commenting on the photo of the other person’s food.  We now live in a society where a woman is more embarrassed to breast feed in a restaurant than ignore her child to check her Facebook feed.

Of course, that was a very extreme and ranty example.  But I’ve had the misfortune of being seated near such dystopian tables of airheaded young people as this.  What I’m trying to show is that when we use the internet for certain things it stops adding to life and begins stealing from it.  When our minds are occupied by thoughts of how we will appear online, we are less present in the moment.  In an effort to remember, share and show off our lives we have diluted the feelings in them.  For example, a sunset no longer provokes thoughts of why nature is so beautiful and how lucky we are to be alive and seeing, but instead the thought ‘I better get my camera!  This will make me look spiritual and fulfilled if I put it on Facebook’ fills the void of stunned awe.  We share moments we never really had because we were too busy sharing them, pictures we never saw because we were looking at a phone screen and say things to hundreds of lonely people in 147 characters of ASCII instead of in long phone calls, letters or over a cup of tea and a biscuit. 

If the final end of the internet really does turn out to be a singularity of pure interconnectedness with no individuality, then I think it would be a terrible shame.  If the hive mentality of twitter storms contrasted with the beautiful solitary thoughts of certain humans can be taken as a warning, then we should guard the individual as sacred.  The freedom to think like an individual and to live only through one’s own perspective has produced works of genius no collective body could ever hope to achieve.  We are fundamentally lonely beings.  The line by the songwriter Ben Folds “How does it feel to realise you’re all alone behind your eyes?” really shook me as a ten-year-old boy.  Today it is a comfort.  We are born the masters of our own minds, the only place tyranny cannot enter is the realm of the mind.  We are solitary viewers of the world who like to connect with each other.  The internet makes it too easy to do this in only superficial ways and so, for all its benefits, we must learn how to use the internet more sensibly.  The same applies for the endless media stimulation we can find: the trashy celebrity articles, pornography music and amusing videos – it becomes too much to stomach if abused.  The next challenge for the internet is for it to find a way to cohabit with us, not assimilate us.  Just as when a new drug is discovered, we must learn how to safely use it and in the case of the internet we must make sure we never ever give up our individuality and remain alone behind our eyes.

It is natural for us to conflate the People’s Republic of China with China as a whole – after all, the overwhelming majority of the world’s Chinese continue to live under communist rule.  In this light, the upcoming Taiwanese presidential election offers a tantalising glimpse of an alternative road to modernity and political liberalization for China. One of the most bizarre legacies of the Cold War – the creation of two separate governments each claiming sovereignty over the entirety of the other’s territory – has also proven to be a remarkably successful experiment in democratisation.

Separated from mainland China since 1949, Taiwan has long been ruled by the Kuomintang (KMT) with the exception of an interlude from 2000-2008 when the presidency passed to Chen Shui-Bian of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). Yet the KMT is widely seen as out-of-touch with popular aspirations for asserting and defending Taiwanese autonomy politically, economically, and culturally. A week ahead of the election, the DPP maintains a 26 point lead in the presidential election and a 13 point lead in the legislative race. For the first time in the island’s history, the KMT looks set to lose control of the Legislative Yuan (from 2000-2008, it had relied on the centre-right New People’s Party for a majority). Part of this probably reflects a natural desire for change after 8 years of KMT rule under President Ma, who came to power amidst a wave of popular expectations in 2008 only to founder amidst furious student protests. Beyond voter fatigue however, the continued erosion in support for the KMT reflects confusion as to what it genuinely stands for beyond encouraging closer relationships with mainland China. Given the latter’s abysmal record on human rights, it is scarcely surprising that many voters are deeply skeptical of eventual ‘reunification’ with the mainland. Whilst a unilateral declaration of Taiwanese independence would risk military conflict with China, the DPP’s Tsai Ing-Wen has declared her support for maintaining the status quo whilst simultaneously keeping the mainland at arm’s length.

A veteran commentator of Taiwanese politics recently attacked the KMT for complacency, arrogance, and an obstinate refusal to face political reality. That might be unduly harsh, but it is difficult to see why the party initially nominated a fervent advocate of deepening cross-straits relationship at a time of unprecedented popular resentment and fear of Beijing. A large part of the KMT’s problems stem from the rising aspirations and assertiveness of well-educated students and professionals. Despite its ethnic homogeneity, Taiwan has long been divided between its native inhabitants (defined as the descendants of those who resided on the island prior to 1945) and the roughly 15% of the population who can trace their descent to the Nationalist refugees who arrived after the end of the Chinese Civil War. The latter are widely perceived as ‘carpet-baggers’ by the Taiwanese majority and memories of Nationalist repression in the 1940s and 1950s remain deeply divisive. Not surprisingly, the DPP has long drawn its support from the Taiwanese (as opposed to Mandarin) speaking population, and it is not uncommon for members of such groups to draw unfavourable comparisons between the Nationalists and the Japanese colonial government which preceded it. Ever since Taiwan’s political transition in the early 1990s, the widening social and cultural gap between it and the mainland has led to a surge of interest in rediscovering and inventing an ‘authentic’ Taiwanese identity amongst the younger generations. As a party that for historical, political, social, and ideological reasons has long been associated with the mainland, the KMT has fared badly out of this process.

The anti-mainland sentiments articulated by the student protestors who dominated the ‘Sunflower movement’ in 2014 are not unique to Taiwan. They can also be heard amongst the pro-democracy activists of Hong Kong (who have long had close ties with Taiwanese dissidents, academics, and politicians) and, to a somewhat lesser degree, in Singapore as well. In this case, proximity has indeed bred contempt. Yet it would be deeply inaccurate and inappropriate to liken such rhetoric to those employed by UKIP, the Front National, and other anti-immigrant movements in Western Europe. For one thing, ‘nativism’ in East Asia tends to be strongest amongst the young and the socially liberal, neither of which is associated with Nigel Farage. More importantly though, such sentiments reflect a genuinely deep-seated fear of rising Chinese power in those societies most vulnerable to communist penetration and influence. Whatever the results of next week’s Taiwanese elections, this reality will not disappear from East Asian politics any time soon.

Just over thirty years after the 1981 riots, in the summer of 2011 the streets of Brixton amongst other areas across England were once again shut down by unrest. Although it is unfair to attribute the causes of these two waves of rioting to one thing alone, suspicion of the police was common to both of them. In areas like Brixton, Tottenham and Birmingham’s Handsworth, rioting in part occurred when large black, Asian and minority ethnic (BAME) communities felt alienated from their local police forces. Arguably, the process of alienation began when these communities felt that their police forces couldn’t engage with their concerns. To an extent, these riots were a reflection of a serious breakdown in trust between the police and the communities that they were meant to be safeguarding.

Yet, how can we talk about relationships of trust between the police and these communities when there are so disproportionately few BAME officers? A recent Guardian freedom of information request has found that in the Thames Valley Policing catchment, in a community that is 15.4 per cent BAME, people from ethnic minority backgrounds make up only 5 per cent of the force. If it sounds bad here in Oxford, under the Metropolitan Police a community that is 40.2 per cent BAME is represented by 11.7 percent of the police. Both forces see disproportionally lower application rates from BAME communities and even less representation in actual appointments. When communities begin to be cut off from the police in these ways, opportunities for dialogue breakdown. A lack of BAME representation in our police forces is a problem for all of us because it represents a severed link between these communities and the people that are meant to be working for them.

When Sir Robert Peel first established the Metropolitan Police in 1829 he did so on the principle of policing by consent. As much as it has evolved since its nineteenth century origins, the concept of policing by consent remains fundamental to how our forces are justified to this day. For policing to be consensual, however, the communities that are policed must feel like their forces are at their service. Communities must understand that the old mantra that the ‘police are the public and the public are the police’ rings true for them. In the spirit of the famous ‘Peelian Principles’, policing can only work for BAME communities when they can trust their voices are being heard. So long as these communities are underrepresented in their local forces, it is difficult to see a more productive relationship emerging.

Perhaps most strikingly in the historical record, the lack of Catholic representation in the Royal Ulster Constabulary of the eighties and nineties shows what this means. Communities put off entry into their police are encouraged to believe in a ‘them’ and ‘us’ relationship with policing. The travesty of underrepresentation in policing is that Peelian notions of consent are eroded. Intolerably, what at first was intended as cooperation for public order becomes the perceived ‘occupation’ of communities by outside forces.

If politicians from Theresa May to Sadiq Khan are agreed that ethnic minority representation in the police force is a problem, their solutions are dramatically different. The question of representation in our police forces is a cross party issue, yet, somehow our politicians seem to be missing the point. Both sides debate about whether the selection process for officers should be amended through rhetoric about ‘affirmative action’, task forces designed to address the problem, or even recruitment quotas assigned to particular forces. More of a problem is that too little emphasis is placed on the underlying problems with policing culture in this country at the moment.

If we are serious about producing more representative police forces, we first need to improve the image of the police in ethnic minority communities. Janet Hills, the new president of the National Black Police Association (NBPA), has noted that one of the main causes of this problem is that confidence in the police in some ethnic minority communities remains shaky. Young people from these communities are not inspired to apply to become Police officers because they don’t see enough evidence that the Police is on their side. Before we can begin to see a change in policing representation, we first need to see a change in the way in which the police are represented to these communities. Affirmative action for the recruitment and promotion of successful BAME officers can only work if first members of BAME communities are convinced that policing works for their benefit.

Ultimately, the first steps towards a more successful and representative police must be recognised as more consultative police forces. If we are serious about improving ethnic minority community representation in the police on grounds of merit, our police forces first need to take into account the findings of the 4 Days in August report produced after the 2011 riots. We need to make sure that our police forces are in better contact with groups and leaders so that they can promote a healthier image of policing in BAME communities. Only when the police are shown to be properly listening to people’s concerns in these communities can we expect more people to want to join the police. Only when there are more BAME candidates for policing positions will affirmative action make a real difference for representation in the police force. In the end, it is only when BAME communities are shown that they have a greater stake in their local police that relationships of trust can be more firmly established.