When was the last time I bought something online without reading all the 1- and 3-star reviews?
When was the last time I didn’t watch a video review of a movie or TV show to either confirm what I thought about it, or to “tell me” what to think about it?
When was the last time I followed a recipe as written before reading the comments to see other people’s hacks or modifications?
When was the last time I formed an opinion about a current event without first checking at least three articles or the commentary of someone I “trust”?
Am I losing the ability to think critically?
Once recently, Bob caught me giving him my “review” of a breakfast sandwich I had ordered at our favorite after-Mass joint (Incidentally, we call this “second Church” because we’re usually surrounded by our fellow parishioners after 7:30 Mass). I was a little surprised and laughed it off at the time, but I have been thinking that he had a point. We live in a funny time where we are influenced, but we’re also influencers. And I am not saying I hate it, but I am saying: what the heck.
As a person who has been in marketing and communications for my whole professional career, I have watched this develop (and then snowball) over time. I actually told agency clients that all reviews were good reviews (yes, even the bad ones) and that there was data to support the idea that buyers actually trusted reviews more than brands. Back in those days, this was a pretty new idea.
It made sense to me as a consumer, too, so I went all in. I love that pretty much every online store I visit has reviews that you can scan, sort, and read. I love seeing videos or photos included in the reviews. I have posted many Amazon reviews myself. After all, why not help people out? My reviews were considered so helpful on Amazon that I was selected to be a part of the “Vine” program—they offer me items for free in exchange for an honest review. (I don’t go crazy with this for two reasons: a lot of what they offer me is stuff I don’t need or want, and you are subject to income tax based on the retail value of the stuff. So I keep it way under $600 in a year so I don’t get dinged. Just a hot tip in case you get recruited.)
This thing goes beyond just shopping, though. I already fessed up to some of it. I often find myself wondering: what do I think about that? What do I think about this Scripture reading? I’ll check to see what Bishop Barron says about it. What do I think about this new show on Hulu? I’ll look for some videos on YouTube. What do I think I should be doing to stay healthy and fit as a something-something-age person? I’ll go check on Pinterest.
Saved videos. Pinned recipes. Followed Instagrams. Substack subscriptions. All to support me in forming my opinions about everything.
How did we used to do it pre-internet?
Do you remember the Ren and Stimpy Show? It was an edgy animated series from the 90s. Even though it was really not a show for kids, it was on Nickelodeon. Anyway, I watched all of the 51 episodes (multiple times), and I liked it. I liked the premise, the characters, the edginess, and the irreverence. I even came up with a kind of personality system based on the show’s characters, with at least four distinct types that seemed to apply to everyone I knew. I had friends who also appreciated the series. I guess you could call this “influence,” but it would not have affected my own thoughts about the series if my friends hadn’t liked it. I didn’t need anyone else’s opinion on the show, the writing, or the animation style. I didn’t need someone to explain the endings to me. I saw something artistic in it, some good writing, and it was funny as hell.
Now, that entire concept seems a little odd to me. Knowing I liked something completely independently of what others thought about it? The hell, you say.
That’s just one example. There are others.
I confidently purchased and wore men’s jeans back in the day. And I didn’t have to consult with a single celebrity stylist. I had movies in my top 10 list that were critically panned. It was not a badge of anything; I just liked them. I read books based on the back cover copy alone. Gasp! And worse, I had my own thoughts and feelings about the stories, the writing, the characters… without input from anyone.
In my small circle of friends (the same ones that liked Ren and Stimpy, too), we got and gave feedback and input on things—fashion, culture, entertainment, religion—you name it, we probably talked about it. It was helpful to have people who agreed with me on some things, but also incredibly helpful to have people who disagreed with me on others. It actually made me think more critically about why I had the opinions I had and made me think about how to verbalize my reasons why. It wasn’t just “that” I liked Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles, but I could talk about my reasons for reading it multiple times.
I think a reason we have begun to move toward a “centralized opinion system” is that it is a kind of group promise that we won’t get burned. And I get that. It’s true that if I had read some reviews more carefully I may not have bought those items and had to return them. Then again, I would have returned that one pair of shoes because they were uncomfortable and ill-fitting anyway, not because someone told me that they would be. But yes, I may have been spared the disappointment.
Aside from online purchases, I think all the other platforms we surround ourselves with are part of this same shift. It’s as if we would rather know what a YouTube reviewer thinks about the latest Marvel series than watch it ourselves and try to decide: Is this good? Is this bad? Do I like it? In one sense, that reviewer can save you hours of (potentially mind-numbing) TV viewing. In another, you don’t get a chance to formulate your own ideas about it. You save yourself the pain—or the pleasure—of trusting in your own judgment.
If you’re waiting for me to get to the part where I tell you how to break out of this or “fix it,” that’s not going to happen. For the simple reason that I’m still in the big fat middle of figuring this out myself. The centralized opinion system is baked into everything everywhere now. So it’s probably not as simple as just breaking the habit of looking at online reviews (although that could be a step in the right direction).
One recent experience keeps coming back to me that could be a clue to rediscovering my capacity to trust my gut. There have been a few new movies on streaming that I have caught, two in particular that were very popular and up for awards. One I watched and immediately liked. Although it was perhaps not a mega-hit, it appealed to me. It took me back to some films I enjoyed from my past. It had a story that resonated with me. The characters were well-developed, and the acting was genuine. Another movie that was making a lot more waves and getting a lot more attention, I watched and instantly hated it. I thought that it sacrificed good storytelling for cheap shocks, and that seemed lazy to me.
But out of curiosity, after forming my own opinions about each of these films, I went online to just take a peek. The movie I liked some reviewers appreciated. But most didn’t love it as much. They had their reasons why. Nothing they said changed my thoughts on the movie, and in fact, I will probably watch it again (I’ve already seen it a couple of times). By contrast, the movie I hated, everyone online positively gushed over. For one hot second, I thought: something must be wrong with me.
Then I woke up. Nothing they said about that movie changed my thoughts about it. More than that, I am able to give concrete reasons why I didn’t like it. I was fine.
I plan to keep exploring this in my own life. If you can relate to being drawn into this opinion culture, maybe we can explore it together. Maybe we’ll agree. Maybe we won’t. But maybe we can reclaim a little of that feeling we had when we were able to discuss opinions with friends—unfiltered and unafraid.
Don’t forget to give this thumbs up, five stars, and tell your friends!
*That was a joke. Do with this what you will; it is totally your prerogative.
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