Good to Know
Knowledge—we have been fascinated with it since antiquity. Know thyself,
admonished the oracle of Delphi. In the Age of Enlightenment, questioning
myths became not only okay, but noble—the foundation of liberty, tolerance,
progress. Science and philosophy flourished. Religious dogma was
challenged with the simple slogan “Dare to know.”
More than anything else, we want to know. We want to be sure our spouse
still loves us. That our child is safe. Anybody with kids knows the universe
collapses to your child, and nothing more, when he or she is ailing. When the
kid wakes up with a fever or breaks out in hives, we must know, “Will my
universe, my kid, be okay?” The logical part of the brain, the cerebrum, is
able to (mostly) calm the reptilian fear brain with facts.
Google answers every question. Our pagan ancestors lived mostly with
mysteries. God heard your prayers but didn’t answer many of them. If God
did speak to you, it meant you were hearing voices, a red flag in any
psychological assessment. Most religious people feel watched over, but still
don’t (always) know what to do. Unlike our ancestors, we are able to find
safety in facts. Our questions are answered immediately, our rest assured.
How to detect carbon monoxide? Here are five ways. Google even highlights
the top answer—here’s what you need to know, in big type, in case you’re
freaking out right now.
Our first instinct is survival. God was meant to provide safety, but only to
those who were righteous and denied all their desires. History is replete with
believers who begged, fasted, and beat themselves with sticks to implore God
for protection and answers. “Is another tribe preparing to attack us?” the
oracle at Perperikon would be asked as she poured wine over hot stone.
“Who’s our greatest enemy?” It was harder to determine North Korea’s
nuclear head count back then. Now we just type it into the search field.
Prayer
Science has looked for God, or a higher intelligence. Over the last century,
there have been numerous well-funded efforts to scan the universe for radio
emissions that might register life, for example, the Search for ExtraTerrestrial
Intelligence (SETI). Carl Sagan cogently compared this effort to a prayer:
lifting your gaze to the heavens, sending up data, and waiting for a response
from a more intelligent being. We hope that this super being can capture,
process, and return an answer.
In the midst of the AIDS crisis, psychiatrist Elisabeth Targ, of the
University of California San Francisco, invited psychic healers from as far as
1,500 miles away to pray for ten subjects, each with advanced AIDS. The
control group, also ten people, received no prayers from the healers. The
results were astonishing and published in the
Western Journal of Medicine
.
During the six-month study four subjects died, all from the control group. Dr.
Targ did a follow-up study that also showed a statistically significant
difference in the levels of CD4+ between test and control groups.
Tragically, Dr. Targ died soon after publishing her research. She was just
forty and had been diagnosed with glioblastoma only four months before. She
died in furtherance of her research, surrounded by chaos—a cacophony of
instructions from shamans, Lakota Sun Dancers, and Russian psychics. After
her death, her research didn’t hold up to additional scrutiny. Further
examination revealed the four patients who died in the original study were
the oldest of the twenty subjects. The effectiveness of prayer, the additional
scrutiny determined, remains a matter of opinion.
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Prayers to Google, however, are answered. It offers knowledge to
everyone, despite background or educational level—if you have a
smartphone (88 percent of consumers)
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or an internet connection (40
percent),
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you can have any question answered. If you want to witness a
small part of the staggering diversity of questions asked of Google in real
time, go to
google.com/about
and scroll down to “What the world is
searching for now.”
Three and a half billion times each day human beings turn their gaze not
upward but downward to their screen. We won’t be judged for asking the
wrong question. Sheer ignorance is welcome—“What is Brexit?” “When is
fever dangerous?” Or plain curiosity: “Best tacos in Austin.” And we pour
out the deepest questions of our heart to our modern-day god: “Why is he not
calling me back?” “How do you know if you should get a divorce?”
And answers, mysteriously, appear. Google’s algorithms, a work of divine
intervention in the eyes of most of us, summon compilations of useful
information. The Mountain View search firm answers the questions that
plague us, trivial and profound, easing our suffering. Its search results are our
benediction: “Go. Take your newfound knowledge and live a better life.”
Trust
Apple is considered the most innovative company in the world.
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Amazon,
the most reputable (whatever that means).
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Facebook is thought of as the
best firm to work for.
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But the trust we place in Google is unrivaled.
One sense in which Google is our modern god is that it knows our deepest
secrets. It’s clairvoyant, keeping a tally of our thoughts and intentions. With
our queries, we confess things to Google that we wouldn’t share with our
priest, rabbi, mother, best friend, or doctor. Whether it’s stalking an old
girlfriend, figuring out what caused your rash, or looking up if you have an
unhealthy fetish or are just really into feet—we confide in Google at a level
and frequency that would scare off any friend, no matter how understanding.
We place immense trust in the mechanism. About one in six Google
queries are questions that have never been asked before.
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What other
institution—professional or clergy—has so much credibility and trust that
people bring their previously unanswerable questions to them? What guru is
so wise that he inspired so many original questions?
Google bolsters its godlike pose by denoting clearly which search results
are organic and which are paid. This boosts confidence in its search, since it
seems to be untethered from the marketplace. The result is that Google’s
scriptures—its search returns—represent for many a stream of unrivaled
veracity. Yet Google gets to have it both ways: organic search preserves
neutrality, while paid content allows ad revenue. And no one complains.
God is seen as having no agenda when answering queries. He is
omnipotent and impartial, loving all his children equally. Google’s organic
search gives out information that is fair and impartial, with no judgment on
who or where you are. Organic search results are based only on relevance to
your search terms. Search Engine Optimization can help your site get picked
up and appear higher in the list, but SEO is still free and based on relevance.
Consumers trust organic results. We love this impartiality and click on
organic results more often than ads. The difference is Google makes money
exacting a toll from anybody (Nespresso, Long Beach Nissan, or Keds) that
wants to eavesdrop on our hopes, dreams, and worries and present us with
ideas on how to address them.
Just as there were personal computers before Apple, online booksellers
before Amazon, and social networks before Facebook, there were also search
engines before Google. Just Ask Jeeves or Overture. Similarly, just as one or
two seemingly minor product features separated the other Four from their
packs and turned them into world conquerors—Jobs’s design and Wozniak’s
architecture for the Apple II; the rating and review system for Amazon;
photos at Facebook—at Google the defining factors were the elegantly
simple homepage and the fact that advertisers weren’t allowed to influence
search results (organic search).
Neither feature may seem important two decades later, but at the time, they
were a revelation. They’ve gone a long way to creating trust. Google’s
colorful, uncluttered home page said to even the most neophyte web surfer:
“Go for it. Type in anything you want to know. There’s no trick involved and
no expertise required. We’ll take care of
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