The assertion of an 'internet death' is repeated quite often, although previously, in August 2010, Wired published a cover declaring the demise of the Net. As noted in The History of the Web, critics, including Rob Besiczu, pointed out that the graph used for this statement only showed an increase in the internet's share of the total volume, not an actual decline in usage.
However, this time, according to Wired, those who mourn may have grounds, and the problem goes beyond mere traffic. Wired returns to the topic, presenting new material based on the book by journalist and technologist John Vest titled The Internet Will Die, and So Will You. The main complaint is that the positive aspects of the Net no longer outweigh the amount of useless content.
The problem lies not in the infrastructure, as the cables function normally, but in the user experience itself. One expert notes: 'Any rational observer can admit that the current version of the Net—and the social structure woven within it—does not match what people initially expected.'
When searching for a simple cooking instruction, a user might receive a four-thousand-word memoir about someone's grandmother, three automatic videos, and a banner with numerous options. When browsing a feed, the user is offered content designed to hold attention, not the content they were looking for. Cory Doctorow has named this slow decay 'enshittification,' which is an accurate description of the situation.
Furthermore, there is the issue of 'slop.' Thanks to artificial intelligence, machine-generated content has become so cheap that content farms can publish materials faster than a person can type 'I'm not interested.' There is also a fringe theory of a dead internet, suggesting the Net primarily consists of automated accounts communicating with each other. Although the strong version of this theory is considered conspiratorial, evidence supporting a milder version is accumulating.
Wired references a cybersecurity firm's study showing that AI agents now exceed the number of human users, as their traffic has increased by approximately eightyfold by 2025. Bots have stopped being mere guests and have begun taking control of the process.
Another aspect is the business model. Wired notes that Oxford University Press named 'rage bait' word of the year in December after its usage increased by about threefold. This indicates that outrage generates profit, and AI allows scammers to produce it in huge quantities.
John Vest's arguments become particularly interesting. He believes the Net is far more fragile than it appears. His book begins by describing a 2001 railway accident in the Baltimore tunnel that damaged the cables transmitting internet traffic and slowed connections across the US. The problem of 'link rot' is also present.
Wired cites two examples from Vest: approximately one in four links in New York Times articles from 1996 to mid-2019 is no longer working, and a Pew report found that over half of Wikipedia entries contain at least one broken link. Thus, humanity's permanent archive is becoming a strategy of decaying content.
Vest gives a personal example: his teenage anime fan page is still active and filled with spam because he lost access to the account needed to delete it. His university blog lost a year due to an unpaid domain account. Vest's conclusion, according to Wired, is that the concept of permanence is a myth, and useless content tends to outlive monuments.
The reason this should be allowed to happen is that the bloated, ad-saturated, algorithm-driven version of the Net is dying, and no one should try to resuscitate it. Instead, attention should be paid to what is growing in the 'cracks'—newsletters landing in inboxes without algorithmic approval; forums managed by passionate people genuinely interested, for example, in vintage fishing videos; group chats that serve as the last functioning town square in South Africa and have better moderation than most multi-billion dollar platforms.
According to Vest, content also thrives in unnoticed corners: obscure YouTube videos watched by almost no one, and web poetry journals distributed out of love rather than for money. The pattern is simple: meaning is best preserved where there is no financial gain.
A small 'dip' for all this junk won't hurt. It is worth turning off content factories for a few hours and seeing who notices. Most likely, the lights will remain on in the places that truly matter.
In conclusion, for publishers, the decision is to stop writing for the algorithm and start writing for the person on the other side of that algorithm. One must have a unique voice, cover real events, and write in a browser with a specific purpose. If the entire strategy boils down to being one of the links in search results, the inevitable funeral of the internet is guaranteed, and you will be on the guest list.