At 13 years old, I was unstoppable with my first iPod Touch. I viewed the internet through a Clarendon filter: venti Starbucks Frappuccino, boomerangs by the beach and unfiltered, often offensive, tweets. Given the freedom to post whatever, whenever, or at least at the mercy of a good WiFi connection, I was unlikely to hesitate before hitting upload.
By 15, armed with an iPhone, I had become god. School assemblies on cybersecurity and cyberbullying were falling behind, featuring “teen-lingo” that was last typed on a Nokia 3310. I knew not to post anything too reckless. I wasn’t stupid. My classmates and I, clutching clear-cased, rose-gold iPhone SEs, exchanged eyerolls that we, Gen Z, knew better than the adults. When they warned us that “the internet is forever,” we didn’t feel threatened; we felt reassured. With our pristine screens, intact home buttons and headphone jacks, we laughed, echoing: “the internet is forever!”
What we didn’t imagine, at that moment, was our future college friends pulling up embarrassing Musical.ly videos posted over a decade ago or cringing at awkward high school DMs preserved on accounts we would never remember the passwords to.
Now, sitting behind MacBooks in our 20s, we are just tired. Though cancel culture has cooled from its 2020 blaze, many headlines still refer to a “resurfacing” of celebrities' old internet interactions. These are often harmless, like embarrassing photos of Sabrina Carpenter from the 2010s, yet some can lead to mass-boycotting of a public-figure, like old Joji videos or Shane Dawson podcasts. However, the internet archive, in its omnipotence, does not limit its targets to online influencers and pop stars.
More interestingly, digital footprints are increasingly prevalent in politics as Gen Z has started running for public office. This past year, old tweets containing offensive language from NYC Mayor Mamdani’s wife, Rama Duwaji, came to light, resulting in her public apology. Closer to home, a Daily Cardinal article addressed old messages from local politician Bobby Gronert, featuring his apology just hours before the polls opened, begging the question: how will internet culture and records change the game for Gen Z’s political future?
The current generation of Boomer politicians did not have this same experience. Most current politicians will not face the same fate as Duwaji or Gronert, as there will never be a screenshot of their bad choices from the 1970s uploaded and passed around Reddit channels before trending on Twitter. But even if there were, how would it impact their campaign? It seems Trump’s controversial past hasn’t barred him from his current position in the Oval Office.
At the local level, Gronert’s unfortunate exposé supports the idea of the internet changing Gen Z’s attempts to gain experience in local politics. Similar to Gen Z, a young congressman in the ‘70s probably never thought his pick-up lines or demeanor towards women — even perhaps his lack of “enthusiasm and technique” — would hinder his political ambition. However, because Gen Z is so deeply embedded in online spaces where past behavior is easily preserved and resurfaced, it is likely that Gen Z candidates will need to be more careful going forward or be prepared to face records of their past.
Although the Trump “I never said that” method could be used when faced with one's own direct quote, it is certain that as long as social media plays a large role in the scope of U.S. news and politics, it is likely that Gen Z will have more controversies similar to Duwaji or Gronert.
Or maybe the internet will do something that it has built itself in defiance to: let people learn from past mistakes, especially ones made when young, and move on. We have unfortunately learned and re-learned since middle school that the internet is forever, but is it too much to ask our eternal record keeper to forgive and forget?
