Last week, a grim headline from
Fox News caught my eye: "'Neck Breaking' Google Search Performed on Missing Florida Toddler's Family
Computer."
The story is about missing 3-year-old Caylee Anthony, whose mother is currently awaiting trial for allegedly killing her daughter. Besides "neck breaking," other terms that appear
in the Google search history of the Anthony family home computer: "household weapons," "peroxide," "acetone," "alcohol," and "shovels," as well as a search on how to make chloroform. Understandably,
Mom Casey's cell phone has also been thoroughly investigated, producing similarly damning evidence: she calls herself "the worst mother," and calls Caylee "a little snothead."
This is not a
political or legal column; it is a column about search, and search is why I'm telling this story. Here is what I want you to tell me, in all honesty and in the comments: when you read the first two
paragraphs, did you form an opinion as to the relative guilt of the mother?
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Does anyone doubt that who we are is reflected in what we search for? Troll through my search history for the past
couple of weeks, and you'll know that I'm engaged, that I had IT problems, that I was house-hunting, that I'm interested in virtual worlds for kids.
But wait. I don't have any kids. Why would
a grown person look at sites like Stardollz and Club Penguin with no pitter-patter of little feet awaiting her at home?
The answer is that I'm involved in a start-up in that space, but the
point is that searches only hint at what's really going on.
John Battelle described the "Database of Intentions," referring to the idea that our collective thoughts, dreams, hopes, and fears
have become visible through our search activity. Now that keyword-based search has been all but mastered, the next Holy Grail is disambiguating searcher intent. But are we ready to be disambiguated?
For example, how many of you parents have ever called your child a little snothead? My friend Caroline -- a wonderful, full-time mother to three gorgeous kids -- regularly calls her children
"ratbags," while smiling in exasperation and wiping their grimy faces.
How many of you have ever said something that could be taken out of context? Ever complained about a mate or a boss in a
way that you wouldn't want them to hear?
Please note that I am not arguing a case on behalf of Casey Anthony -- everything I know about the case came from that one article. What I am saying
is that our newfound ability to monitor and revisit our every action, no matter how intimate, compels us to have a new understanding.
Actually, we need two new understandings: one having to
do with our own behavior, and one having to do with how we judge others.
You know that saying, "Integrity is what you do when you don't think anyone's looking"? I believe in that, and I hope
people live by it, but there's a new paradigm on the block: Integrity no longer matters. You have to do the right thing because someone is always looking, and even if they're not, they can go back and
review the records.
And since our ability to be seen incorporates our ability to see others, we also need to become a bit more cautious in how we judge. Total transparency calls for us to be
vigilant about jumping to conclusions. A search is a hint of curiosity; one query does not a person make.
We have all always lived in glass houses, but suddenly that glass is a lot clearer
and a lot more brittle. Perhaps having our intentions exposed will lead us to more enlightened behavior and more tempered judgments.
Googling our way to Nirvana? It could happen.