Learning to navigate in a sea of information

Learning to navigate in a sea of information

Photo by Blake Cheek on Unsplash

Originally published 15 September 1997

All sum­mer we fol­lowed the Mars Pathfind­er mis­sion on the Internet.

We saw the pic­tures and exam­ined the data beamed backed from Mars, almost as quick­ly as they were avail­able to the sci­en­tists at mis­sion control.

These were not pho­tographs and data fil­tered through the media, but the orig­i­nal infor­ma­tion — every pix­el, every num­ber, every geo­log­i­cal and mete­o­ro­log­i­cal obser­va­tion from the Red Planet.

And more. We had fre­quent­ly updat­ed analy­ses by NASA sci­en­tists. Explana­to­ry ani­ma­tions. Dia­grams and graphs. Com­men­tary from the news media. And a vast amount of opin­ion from Ordi­nary Joes expressed on pri­vate web sites.

We also read about joke con­spir­a­cy the­o­ries, the “pic­tures NASA did­n’t want us to see.” The face of Christ on a Mar­t­ian rock. A fly­ing saucer in the Mar­t­ian atmos­phere. A Mar­t­ian Big­foot walk­ing around in the Mar­t­ian dust.

Some of these joke web pages were as graph­i­cal­ly real­is­tic and as con­vinc­ing­ly con­struct­ed as the offi­cial NASA web site.

All of this infor­ma­tion, real and bogus, was avail­able to any­one on the plan­et with a com­put­er and access to a tele­phone line.

What was true for Pathfind­er is true of every oth­er field of human endeav­or. A few key­strokes will bring into our homes news­pa­pers of record and the rav­ings of mad­men, works of art by the great mas­ters and by Sun­day painters, Shake­speare’s plays and the scrib­bles of the per­son next door, stock mar­ket wis­dom and mon­ey-goug­ing scams, sci­ence and pseu­do­science — a vast unsort­ed sea of infor­ma­tion and opin­ion, some valu­able, some off the wall.

The essence of the Inter­net is its glo­ri­ous intel­lec­tu­al promis­cu­ous­ness. No gate­keep­ers stand between sources and con­sumers of information.

We have entered the Age of Unfil­tered Information.

Pre­vi­ous­ly, we obtained infor­ma­tion from books, mag­a­zines, news­pa­pers, radio, tele­vi­sion, libraries, and schools. Edi­tors, librar­i­ans, and teach­ers decid­ed what infor­ma­tion is “true,” “legit­i­mate,” “use­ful” or “appro­pri­ate.”

This had cer­tain advan­tages. We were saved from drown­ing in a sea of super­flu­ous infor­ma­tion. We were instruct­ed by those who are wis­er and bet­ter edu­cat­ed than our­selves. Our soci­ety gath­ered a sta­bi­liz­ing degree of cohesiveness.

By con­trast, the Inter­net is a gate flung wide open. The loony web pages of civil­ian mili­tias are as read­i­ly acces­si­ble as the web pages of a Nobel prize-win­ning peace­mak­er. The web pages of the Inter­na­tion­al UFO Muse­um and Research Cen­ter have equal stand­ing with the web pages of the Amer­i­can Asso­ci­a­tion for the Advance­ment of Science.

This all-inclu­sive anar­chy can be exhil­a­rat­ing, lib­er­at­ing, fun. For the first time in his­to­ry, indi­vid­u­als can inter­act with the world of infor­ma­tion with­out the con­straints of offi­cial gatekeepers.

This Inter­net rev­o­lu­tion has enor­mous impli­ca­tions for edu­ca­tion, and the soon­er we face them the bet­ter. The schools are fast becom­ing obso­lete as pur­vey­ors of facts; facts come flood­ing from our com­put­ers faster than we can assim­i­late them. What the schools must now pro­vide — and quick­ly! — are skills of crit­i­cal thinking.

Our chil­dren must learn to become their own gatekeepers.

How does one fil­ter the infor­ma­tion that gush­es from the net? How does one dis­tin­guish infor­ma­tion that has the back­ing of a broad base of edu­cat­ed opin­ion from fringe or crack­pot infor­ma­tion? In which web pages can we place our trust with­out the risk of get­ting burned?

Let’s say a kid in a sci­ence class does a net search for “cold fusion.” She gets 5,000 hits, more infor­ma­tion than she could have obtained in a dozen years of teach­ers and books. How­ev­er, these hits range the gamut from respectable sci­en­tif­ic research to the inco­her­ent thoughts of per­pet­u­al motion cranks. And to make things more con­fus­ing, some of the goofi­er opin­ions are found on the glitzi­er web pages. How does the stu­dent sep­a­rate the wheat from the chaff?

Anoth­er stu­dent finds his way to the classy home page of the Insti­tute for Cre­ation Research in Cal­i­for­nia. He notes that the insti­tute has a fac­ul­ty with Ph.Ds, a grad­u­ate pro­gram, a Sci­ence Edu­ca­tion Cen­ter, even a list of ideas for sci­ence fair projects — all the trap­pings of real sci­ence. How is the stu­dent to know that the Insti­tute for Cre­ation Research has pari­ah sta­tus with­in the pro­fes­sion­al sci­en­tif­ic community?

The Inter­net is like a vast mar­ket­place of ideas where every pur­vey­or has the same size stall. Some stalls are decked out with neon and flash­ing lights; oth­ers are shab­by and drab. Some stall keep­ers promise the world; oth­ers offer only mod­est help­ings of “fact.” Where does one shop?

Does it mat­ter? Yes. A vig­or­ous mar­ket­place of ideas is healthy, but a soci­ety needs a cer­tain degree of shared faith if it is not to dis­in­te­grate into anar­chy. If all ideas in the mar­ket­place are equal, then no ideas will tru­ly matter.

If we are to live in a soci­ety with­out infor­ma­tion gate­keep­ers, we must edu­cate our chil­dren to be open-mind­ed but skep­ti­cal, tol­er­ant of diver­si­ty but pas­sion­ate about truth, respect­ful of received opin­ion but equipped with tried-and-true crit­i­cal skills of his­to­ry, rhetoric, log­ic, sta­tis­tics, and the exper­i­men­tal method.

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