Once upon a time, there was a brief outage on some social media platforms. It got fixed. The end. On the face of it, kind of a boring story.

But the widespread attention given to the blanking of suggests another, perhaps less obvious tale: the one that shows that social media platforms, like the books or newspapers or insert-medium-here of other times in history, matter more than just being entertaining pastimes.

Wait, you mean those posts from that cousin you rarely see, sharing updates from her kids害羞草研究所� lives? That reel from the influencer, introducing you to a culture or bit of knowledge you never knew? That photo collage you put up as a memorial to a loved one whose loss you害羞草研究所檙e grieving? The back-and-forth debate between people on your feed trying to one-up each other on topics that interest you?

Yes. The technologies might be recent. But the things we use them for? That taps into something age-old: Humans are wired to love stories. Telling them. Listening to them. Relating to each other and our communities through them. And, of late, showing them to the world piece by piece through our devices 害羞草研究所� so much so that one of Instagram害羞草研究所檚 primary features is called, simply, 害羞草研究所淪tories.害羞草研究所�

害羞草研究所淥ur narrative capacity is 害羞草研究所� one of the best ways through which we are able to connect with one another,害羞草研究所� says Evynn McFalls, vice president of marketing and brand at the NeuroLeadership Institute, a consultancy that incorporates neuroscience into its corporate work. 害羞草研究所淥ur brains like stories because it makes it easier for us to understand other people, other circumstances.害羞草研究所�

SOCIAL MEDIA AS A COMMUNITY OF STORIES

In his book 害羞草研究所淭he Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human,害羞草研究所� scholar Jonathan Gottschall says this: 害羞草研究所淭he human imperative to make and consume stories runs even more deeply than literature, dreams and fantasy. We are soaked to the bone in story.害羞草研究所�

And in these times, social media is so often where they害羞草研究所檙e told 害羞草研究所� whether in pictures, videos, memes, text threads or mashups of all four. People can get news and information (and OK, yes, misinformation) there, learn and possibly sympathize with others害羞草研究所� plights, see things in ways that help us make sense of the world. We tell our own stories on them, make connections with others that might not exist in any other space.

In many ways, these social spaces are where we do 害羞草研究所渉uman.害羞草研究所�

害羞草研究所淚t害羞草研究所檚 almost impossible for many people, especially in the United States, to think about their lives and communication without thinking about social media,害羞草研究所� says Samuel Woolley, an assistant professor at the University of Texas at Austin害羞草研究所檚 School of Journalism and Media.

So when they害羞草研究所檙e disrupted? Uh-oh. Threads of connection can disappear. Endorphin-generating activities get cut off. Routines 害羞草研究所� for better and for worse 害羞草研究所� are interrupted, and and storytelling hiccup and falter.

害羞草研究所淥utside of the trivial nature of these platforms, they害羞草研究所檝e also really morphed over the last 15 years into an advocacy space,害羞草研究所� says Imani Cheers, associate professor of digital storytelling at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. 害羞草研究所淭hose types of outages can really cause disruption in the passing and service of information.害羞草研究所�

It can also ratchet up the impact if the interruption comes at a moment when communication and information are perceived to be needed the most, Woolley notes: In the United States, the outage corresponded with the moments many were heading to the polls for Super Tuesday.

害羞草研究所淓ven though the recent outage only lasted a handful of hours for most people, it still resulted in a lack of access to the news,害羞草研究所� Woolley says. 害羞草研究所淎nd that害羞草研究所檚 a problem.害羞草研究所�

A CREEPING SENSE OF UNEASE?

After the outages happened Tuesday, Andy Stone, Meta害羞草研究所檚 head of communications, on X, formerly known as Twitter. 害羞草研究所淲e apologize for any inconvenience,害羞草研究所� he wrote. But for some, it was more visceral than simple inconvenience. Their stories and their online lives were at stake.

When Taylor Cole Miller, an assistant professor of communication studies at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, first realized that he wasn害羞草研究所檛 getting into his Facebook account Tuesday, his initial concern was security 害羞草研究所� that he had somehow been hacked.

Shortly afterward came creeping panic: What if he had lost almost two decades of his Facebook existence, including some connections with people he only had over the platform?

害羞草研究所淚 hesitate to say that my life flashed before my eyes, because that害羞草研究所檚 just so overwrought,害羞草研究所� he says. 害羞草研究所淏ut the fact of the matter is that as someone who害羞草研究所檚 been on Facebook for 20 years, a significant amount of my life is archived害羞草研究所� there.

害羞草研究所淢any of the ways that I connect with people is merely through Facebook. What happens if poof, it just goes away really fast? What does that mean for who I am as a person and how I interact with other people?害羞草研究所�

That type of reaction about losing something that害羞草研究所檚 so part of the fabric of one害羞草研究所檚 day speaks to the power of story to connect us, says Melanie Green, a professor in the department of communication at the University of Buffalo. And, not incidentally, to the platforms that amplify those stories.

害羞草研究所淗umans have a need to belong. We害羞草研究所檙e social species, our survival often depends on being part of groups,害羞草研究所� she says. 害羞草研究所淪tories can help us feel that sense of belongingness.害羞草研究所�

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