I have been an insider in one of the widely reported news item in my country, and it was a news item I would under normal circumstances take at face value, since it's politics and it's the people I support, or at least did, if not for their unequivocal support for something that I know to be not true, but reported as if, for political purposes. If I wouldn't be familiar with the details I would be inclined to believe what is reported myself.<p>It's not that I have been unaware that such bias can occur, I catch inaccuracies all the time when it comes to my own profession. I however realize that politics created a blind spot for me, along with social media, which I now increasingly rely on for news, because it's fast, and there are no nuances, like in a longer analysis, and because it's social. There is nothing like being surrounded by people who agree with you and support you in your outrage or virtue signalling, comfortably outmatching any potential detractors. Upvotes and downvotes clearly tell what's right and what's wrong, there is no uncertainty. I'm on the right side and feel good about it.<p>I can now see the effects of this on myself. I think I used to be more thoughtful, more interesting. I spoke when I had something to contribute. Not to be right. Not to have my ego satisfied. Not to pretend that I'm something that I'm not. Not to be a part of the mob. I used to think, write and read more. I used to be more creative. I used to have a richer inner life.<p>My father have died today. We weren't close. He made many mistakes in his life. He maneuvered himself into a pit of darkness, finding comfort in hate and manipulation, then mediocrity, hiding from those he wronged. He was as smart as they come, but had no empathy, to the point of psychopathy. His parents taught him that the world is his, but his pathology was too severe to help with that. He failed both as a politician and a businessman. He made many enemies. He abused his children, psychologically, physically, he beat them and starved them, kept them locked into the car for hours, for years, while doing business or cheating on his wife. He was a force to be reckoned with, the coldest and scariest, then suddenly warm with big promises. Four children had to reckon with him. One a doctor, severely alcoholic, often cruel. One with bulimia and Stockholm syndrome. Two with self-harm for a long time.<p>With this colorful background it should be clear why I don't like the type of person social media tends to create. I made this post, because I think there is an important lesson here, one I'm not quite able to elegantly express, but it goes something like this. The internet is a wonderful tool, but it can also change us for the worst. 90% of my activity on social media is a waste of time. It doesn't contribute to my life, on the contrary. Worst it doesn't contribute to your life. I would like to do that instead. Let's do that instead. Life is short. Let's make it better.<p>The news item was about my father, he died a hero. The local police made a mistake arresting him, which made him a political figure, a symbol of resistance against a tyrannical government. Celebrated by the media, he gained momentary international fame not long ago, with country leaders calling him on the phone to ensure him of their support. Now he is dead, and big, lofty political speeches are ahead about the man who couldn't ever hide who he is, except for one last time, if for a moment.