Data Doomsday: Drowning in an Ocean of Digital Debris

Katja Hollaar
6 min readJan 25, 2024

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How our obsession with mindless content creation, storage and consumption has flooded cyberspace with useless debris

In an age where the pursuit of passive income collides with an insatiable appetite for content, the Internet has transformed into an overwhelming abyss of information, leaving us gasping for meaning in its polluted waters. As we grapple with the deluge of generated garbage and incessant ads, the psychological toll of this trend looms like a dark cloud over our digital existence.

the sea of digital garbage

I still vividly remember the early days of the internet — a sprinkling of websites with pixelated graphics, the sluggish dial-up tone, waiting minutes for a simple web page to load. Yet in the blink of an eye, we’ve become overwhelmed by immense digital debris drifting aimlessly through cyberspace.

The irony of our data deluge is that it emerged from isolation. As human connections fray in the age of mobility and career priorities, we flocked online to socialize. We chased digital surrogates — the quantified evidence that someone, somewhere heard us. More digital friends and followers pleased the primal social need for belonging. Every like and comment sparked a dopamine rush, proof we existed.

Yet as the crowds grew massive, shouts into the digital abyss increasingly went ignored. And so up went the volume — more posts, more shares, an endless quest to cut through the noise. Meanwhile, tech giants quietly stockpiled our data trails, packaging ‘engagement’ into revenue.

The social void yawned wider. Online shopping, streaming and mindless scrolling swelled the digital landfills, even as our restraint and reason ebbed away. Living life through the lens of cameras and screens, no longer in the moment. Until one day, we suddenly found ourselves drowning — our humanity buried under an avalanche of digital debris never meant for human eyes.

This is the story of our obsession gone unchecked. How innocuous needs elongated into endless server farms emitting metric tons of carbon as we sleepwalk down the path of data doomsday…

Every second, these data centers, powering our online lives, consume enough energy to light cities, burning through fossil fuels to store an ever-expanding glut of digital detritus. Exabytes (that’s BILLIONS of gigabytes) of data about our clicks, views, purchases and playlists. AI-generated pictures, stickers, templates, videos, ebooks sold through online marketplaces. Businesses auto-posting spammy advertisements and machine-made content to manufacture revenue. The relentless push to generate content for profit has birthed an online landscape teetering on the brink of insanity. The sheer volume of mindless content bombardment not only numbs our senses but erodes our ability to discern valuable information. The psychological damage inflicted by this constant assault on our attention is a silent epidemic, leaving us craving a lifeboat of sanity in a storm of digital chaos.

server farms stretching out to horizon

The rate at which data is generated and stored is staggering. In the constant stream of data, it’s estimated that over 2.5 quintillion bytes of data (that’s 10 raised to the power of 18!) are created every day globally. This includes text, images, videos, and various other forms of digital content. The Internet’s colossal data centers, hidden behind the glossy facade of the virtual realm, serve as the ominous mausoleums of our digital lives. Giant server farms are scattered across the globe, their environmental impact shrouded in secrecy. And there have been periodic upsurges of panic about whether the capacity of data centers is enough to meet the increasing demand for data storage.

The gargantuan data centers sustaining our insatiable digital appetite come at an astronomical environmental cost. Researchers estimate that these data centers, consuming enormous amounts of energy, currently produce up to 1% of global greenhouse gas emissions — a number that could surpass the airline industry by mid-century. The energy consumed by these behemoths rivals the carbon footprint of entire countries (in 2023, data centers are reported to have consumed 3% of the world’s total electricity). Data centers also consume huge amounts of water, primarily through cooling processes to prevent overheating. Between 20 and 50 million metric tons of e-waste are created each year. These centers contribute to an environmental dystopia that mirrors the chaos of our digital landscape.

They have to be located somewhere, and they require very large amounts of land. The largest windmill park in the world, for example, was constructed in 2018 in The Netherlands to power one of the biggest data centers in the world (made by and for Microsoft) with the claim that this park contributes to Microsoft’s commitment to sustainability and reducing their carbon footprint. A 5,017 square-meter area is dedicated solely for this digital farm with the capacity of 180 megawatts. The electricity generated by the park would be enough for 400,000 households, but the citizens in the neighborhood get zero watt!

The dystopian irony is stark — as we chase passive income and engage in mindless scrolling, we unwittingly contribute to an environmental catastrophe. The excesses of the online world, fueled by our insatiable desire for content and profit, threaten the delicate balance we seek with the natural environment. To ignore this interdependence is to play a dangerous game with the future of our planet.

How can one be heard in the cacophony of data garbage?

The exponential growth of data raises concerns about how to effectively sift through the noise and extract valuable information. The data floodgates of TikTok videos, lifestyle vlogs, influencers unpacking and unboxing their sponsored goodies, remain wide open. Artists, musicians and writers are forced to wage an algorithmic war for attention, fighting against waves of machine-made “competitors” that flood the plethora of online platforms with content faster than any human could. Photographers see their works copied and sold as AI-generated NFTs, with no way to stem the theft. Is this the future — drowning amongst relentless digital debris as faceless corporations and algorithms hog the profits?

I don’t claim to have the solutions in the face of this digital tsunami. But perhaps we need to step back and reflect on our complicity in this system overload. Do we truly need to publish yet another instagram story, reel, TikTok video or sticker pack to be mindlessly created and added to the pixelated landfill? Should we be more conscious of what we click, view, and store to help stem this toxic data tide? My plea is that we acknowledge the impact of our digital behaviors on both our mental well-being and the planet and recognize a desperate need for introspection. Because at this rate, we risk becoming numb to the real damage and burgeoning waste. And our ability to find meaning and connection risks being washed away in the raging digital torrent.

digital post-apocalypse

I recognize the irony that this very article, once published, will likely be stored on servers in some data center halfway across the world. And every view and click will incrementally add to the energy consumption and digital pollution I decry. I’m not calling for us all to wipe the slate clean or abandon the internet altogether. The connectivity and access to information it provides is invaluable. But perhaps it’s time for more conscious digital citizenship. We can start by being more mindful of what we create and consume online. Tiny actions, multiplied by billions of users, could gradually trim the tidal wave of digital debris crashing upon our virtual shores. If we managed to cure the ozone hole by curbing aerosols, not banning them entirely, we can create more cyberspace room to breathe rather than suffocating it with datasmog — if we collectively moderate our digital diets. Otherwise the internet might slowly choke into oblivion beneath pixelated plastic waste as far as the eye can see.

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Katja Hollaar

Wildlife photographer from The Netherlands moved to Costa Rica and sharing experiences and inspiration about sustainable living off the grid