I’m hooked on the web ...but how I mourn a simpler age

THIRTY years ago, Tim Berners-Lee first submitted his proposal for an ‘ information management system’ to his boss at CERN, the nuclear research centre.

It was a blueprint for sharing data to improve research outcomes. ‘Vague, but exciting . . .’ was the response.

Not since the boss of Western Union turned down Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone patent as ‘little more than a toy’, can such a game-changing invention have met with such an underwhelming response. But then, I doubt whether anyone — not even Berners-Lee himself — could have predicted just how revolutionary his idea would turn out to be.

It was, of course, the worldwide web, a digital revolution that has shrunk the world to the size of a microchip while simultaneously broadening horizons for billions.

A concept which was initially inconceivable even to a nuclear physicist has, in the space of just three decades, changed humanity for good. The internet is up there with the printing press — which it is fast making redundant.

In fact, so many of the great inventions of the last century have been, if not totally superseded then in some way assimilated, by the internet.

It now governs the way we watch TV, listen to the radio, communicate with our loved ones. It has revolutionised the world of work and changed the way we shop.

It even influences how and with whom we fall in love. It is all- seeing, all- encompassing, allconquering. And it has us in its thrall.

What started out as a clever idea for data sharing has, in an astonishingly short period of time, infiltrated every aspect of our lives, so much so we can barely imagine existence without it.

Millennials and teenagers consider it a basic human right. In parts of the world where you can’t even find running water you can get Wi-Fi. Such are the many and varied benefits it brings that very few would seriously question the wisdom of its existence.

I’m no Luddite. I appreciate all the advantages that the internet has brought us.

And while I recognise it has downsides, too — data breaches, fake news, online pornography, bullying and so on — I still think that, on balance, I would rather have it than not.

Still, there is something about the way we have come to rely so swiftly and so completely on the web that worries me — just as it worries its creator, Berners-Lee, who warned this week that his creation has now become a space for ‘those who spread hatred’.

It’s not just the obvious stuff, such as trolling and intimidation; it’s to do with our approach to life which, it seems to me, was far richer and more complete before so much of the human experience migrated into cyberspace.

Sure, you couldn’t spend hours arguing with complete strangers on Twitter, or WhatsApp your sister in Australia. But somehow none of those things were necessary. Life was no less fulfilling for not posting your holiday snaps on Instagram.

I’d go so far as to say that it was absolutely fine. Quite nice, actually. Full of simple pleasures, such as getting lost and ending up somewhere unexpected, or reading an actual book instead of just Googling the plot. OR

INTERACTING with people face-toface, as opposed to via a keyboard, or rushing home to watch your favourite TV show instead of just getting it on iPlayer.

I miss that world, that analogue existence, where ideas and opinions had nuance and context, instead of being plucked from the web and flung around like grenades. I miss the fact that you could stop the world at your front door, leave behind the bullies and the deadlines — and just be.

That world is lost. Not only to those like me, who can remember it and miss it. But also to the next generation, who will never know what it feels like to enjoy a piece of avocado on toast without posting a picture online, or sit on a beach without taking a selfie — or just to experience life without the whole of the world passing judgment.