The first person I knew who had a website of his own was a fellow Washington journalist. This was when many journalists were still just getting into email, but the URL for this site quickly circulated around town and around the world. Why? Well, we were all impressed by the technological savvy. But we were absolutely astounded by the solipsism. What on earth had gotten into Joe? This was a modest, soft-spoken and self-effacing fellow, yet his website portrayed him as an egotistical monster.
Or so it seemed at the time. All the elements that struck us as obnoxious eight years ago no longer seem that way. They are now virtually required for any writer's website. The web address, of course, was his name: JoeJournalist.com. It's hard to recapture why that seemed pretentious but it did. Then there was his deadpan list of books he'd written and awards he'd won. And quotes from other journalists about how wonderful he is. It all seemed totally out of character, and immodest. Poor Joe! Had the worldwide web driven him crazy?
If so, we are all crazy now. There is something about the web that brings out the ego monster in everybody. When you write for the web, you open yourself up to breathtakingly vicious vitriol. People wish things on your mother, simply for bearing you, that you wouldn't wish on Hitler. Even in their quieter modes, denizens of the web seem to lug around huge egos and deeply questionable assumptions about how interesting they and their lives might be to others.
This is strange. Anonymity is supposed to be one of the signature qualities of the web. As that dog in the New Yorker cartoon famously says: "On the internet, nobody knows you're a dog." The internet is a place where you can interact with other people and have complete control over how much they know about you. But anonymity does not actually seem to interest many of the web's most devoted users.
The most successful websites seem to be those where people can abandon anonymity and stake their claims as unique individuals. Social networking sites such as MySpace (for which Rupert Murdoch paid $580m last year) are vast celebrations of solipsism. "My interests are music, girls, sports, clothes, cars and ooh did I mention girls," writes Lex, a featured member of MySpace.com. Charming, though slightly less so when it develops that Lex is 23 and includes a picture of his wife. Or is this blonde babe really his wife? You can live a fantasy life on the web, but the vast majority of people on these social networking sites are revealing themselves as honestly as they can.
There's an element of amiable self-parody about a lot of this that makes it bearable. Or is there? It's hard to tell. Surfing aimlessly, I stumbled on WhatsDougDoing.com, which describes itself as "the definitive site for finding out 'What Is Doug Doing?'" Doug himself writes: "So I know what you all are thinking. Doug never updates this!" Doug seems genuinely apologetic about not keeping us up to date on the minutiae of his life. For myself, I'm worried sick that the "grad course and two music history courses" that Doug is taking may not leave him enough time to keep the page totally current. Remember your priorities, Doug, and don't let school get in the way of maintaining your website.
For the ultimate in solipsism, check out twitter.com, a site where you can answer the question, "What are you doing?" At 7:47 am on Monday, for example, Lynda was going to get a glass of cold water. This raises more questions. Did she get it? Was it cold enough? Tragically, we won't know until someone starts a site about what you were doing before what you're doing now. Or a site about what you are going to do after you finish what you're doing now. There could be multiple options. People could vote. Someone call Google. We're rich!
Michael Kinsley