Back in November when all seemed lost I started seeing a quote circulating on the socials. It was wholly attributed to Albert Camus. It offered me comfort, grounding, and hope. It’s a bit long, but worth sharing. I’m sure many of you have already seen it. It inspired me to write an essay in response. I made some progress, UNTIL I did a search to vet the quote. Cue suspenseful music. What I found was that there was only one line that could be attributed to Camus, as indicated here, in bold italics. I thought to myself, “Damn you, Social Media, you almost got me.”
“
My dear, in the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that…In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.” Albert Camus
The Camus snippet noted in bold was excerpted from his 1954 essay, “Return to Tipasa.”
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
The rest of it, with my strikethroughs? Someone else’s words. By the way, please refrain from sharing the above as the work of Camus. Or I’ll come for you in the night with a copy of Bartlett’s tucked under my arm and subject you to a marathon quote-fest. I can read aloud for hours. They’d hate me or love me in the Senate. I can filibuster with the best of them.
I abandoned that essay but didn’t toss it because I had a feeling it might come in handy later. The route was a bit circuitous, it took almost a year, but it led me to a perfect point in time that empowered me to write the essay you’re reading today.
A little background on my history of, let’s call them, verification proclivities:
I know how easy it is to read something on the web and immediately want to share it. In the early days of what would unfold as the Orange Monster’s reign of terror (otherwise known as ROT), I mistakenly shared plenty of memes that were created to get attention, promulgate misdirection and create confusion and upset. My intention was to share what I thought was important information. I fell for the lies, the hoaxes. Then I started seeing what was happening, and I became a Snopes devotee, and a pain in the ass for my friends on the socials. If something smelled bad that sparked my inner skeptic, I was all over it.
I stepped up, and swore myself in, pinning a Truth Sheriff’s badge to my lapel. I called people out for not researching before they posted. If I’d had the power to slap them with enormous fines, delete their posts, and send them to after-school detention ‘til they learned their lesson, I would have, most enthusiastically.
Okay, I was a little self-righteous…and controlling.
I habitually reported the falsehoods to FaceCrap, got no satisfaction but refused to let up. Lately, it’s gotten much worse because now, we’re watching as these outlets of greed and fear become censoring maniacs, though rarely for the greater good. Instead of shutting down the lies, they’re shutting us down, and protecting their asses; I mean assets. That’s right. Those of us who speak truth to power are being silenced.
Social media’s created a massive population of reactors. We’ve learned to push that share button. Are we taking a moment to discern whether what we’re gleefully or angrily putting out into our world contains a shred of truth? We’re so much smarter than that when we’re wearing our thinking caps. So please, just as we did with our pink pussy hats, put the fucker on your head.
We need to vet, to search; preferably avoiding AI in our rush to enlighten. If we don’t vet, we compound the problem. Then, we’re as much to blame as the bad guys. Especially if we have large audiences. It’s our responsibility to take it seriously.
Okay. Deep breath. I’m stepping off my soapbox, at least for a moment or two.
Is it obvious that I have feelings about all this?
In mid-September, I started designing and posting a daily graphic using quotes that inspired me. Some are political, some feminist, all moral. Some of the notes are gentle, many are funny, and some are angry. It’s a fun project for me that blends my curiosity and my love for design.
They’re meant to inspire, to encourage thought and action. They’re meant to spark hope and remind us of our core values. The quotes are served with a side of mischievous resistance. They speak to the iniquities AND inequities that are being perpetrated by the rise of fascism in this country. Our country that has swiftly become unrecognizable.
Thanks to careful research, I’m pretty confident in the accuracy of what I’m sharing. I was reminded to be thorough when I used a quote attributed to Albert Einstein, only to find out after I’d created the artwork and it was ready to go that it wasn’t his. The quote?
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Is that ironic, or what? The first time I heard it was at an est seminar in 1976. Werner Erhard, the founder of est tried to pass it off as his. The second time I heard it was in a 12-step meeting, many years later. When I discovered that Einstein said it, I was thrilled. When I discovered he didn’t say it, I was relieved that I hadn’t posted it yet. I was grateful to be reminded that I’m human, fallible, and sometimes gullible in my desire to do good.
A few days into this project, a friend told me that she was loving the memes I was posting. I cringed inside because for me, memes connote something more basic and more than occasionally inaccurate. And far too often, they’re poorly executed, riddled with typos, misspellings and terrible artwork. And now, there’s AI added to the mix. Talk about cringe. It offends my design aesthetic.
Fine, I admit it. I’m a snob. And yes, dammit, they’re memes. But they’re beautiful memes.
I call them Screaming Me-mes, the name the Germans used for the missiles they launched during WWII. When the bombs flew through the air toward their targets, they made a loud screaming noise. Wow, a weapon that came with a warning, a “Heads up, you’re about to die. Might wanna get out of the way.”
My Screaming Memes aren’t weapons, but they are warnings. They’re gentle nudges, wake-up calls to remember our wisdom, our humor, our hearts. They’re an action against the madness we’re witnessing every day. But I have a weapon, too. My weapon is joy. I refuse to give in to the fear that often lies beneath my surface, begging to take over.
Not happening. I’m love-bombing my world every day. The baddies hate when we do that.
Nine days ago, I saw a note posted by our beloved newcomer,
.Yup. You got it. She posted the faux Camus quote. I couldn’t resist. I called her out, said my piece, and then watched as the note was liked 30,000 times. It was restacked more than 4,000 times. And what we are left with is an example of exponential misinformation transmission (EMT for short). I coined that phrase. Good, huh? Of course, I didn’t get a response from Annie. I didn’t expect to. People with as many followers and subscribers as Anne Lamott rarely linger. They drop their love bombs and flee. I’m sure they have other things to concern themselves with besides kibbitzing with the masses.
This example is tame. Anne Lamott posted with love and care. But what about the harder stuff, the inflammatory news items, the mean memes that get sent around to create an atmosphere of terror and anxiety. We can’t be party to that. We have to stay alert, take that extra few moments to check, to breathe through our reactivity, to consider our actions BEFORE taking action.
The truth is becoming harder to vet. But vet me must. As each day brings more AI nonsense, and the propaganda machines churn out more fabrications, we can no longer trust what we read. Don’t get me started on legacy media and platforms that once felt aligned with more progressive ideas. Corporate tails are tucked between trouser legs, and the once powerful now tremble with fear that they’ll lose their precious fortunes if they don’t fall in line.
We’re writers. We’re readers. We’re citizens of the world. We have a responsibility to verify what we share before we send it out. Sometimes, it’s hard to guarantee accuracy, but we must make the effort.
Our self-esteem demands it. Our freedom depends on it.
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