The Deadly Waterfall in the Instagram Age

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The soaring popularity of this oasis in the Catskill Mountains, lifted by internet fame, has accelerated the problem.

In response, the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation has been implementing new safety features over the past four years.

Forest rangers have struggled to keep the growing crowds safe. They estimate the falls see 100,000 visitors a year, a tenfold increase from a quarter century ago.

Mr. Dawson said he believed social media was responsible. “Just talking to people who come up here, they say, ‘Yeah, we saw this on the internet — we’re trying to find it,’” Mr. Dawson said. “The unfortunate thing is, with those pictures, there’s nothing informing people that you could get seriously hurt here, too.”

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The first social media suicide

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The enterprise of “sending out a message” seems to have given her a renewed sense of energy and purpose. She made a detailed plan, and one that was, as events would show, well conceived. She made it known that she would broadcast some unspecified and sensational event at 4.30pm on 10 May 2016…

Just before 4.30pm, she took her phone, still broadcasting, went out of the house – leaving her cat for the last time – and walked to Égly’s RER station, which took just a few seconds. As she got close, the mood among her followers began to change…

Océane’s death was the first suicide to be broadcast live on today’s social media platforms. During the hours I spent watching her online videos, however, I never got the feeling that she was, in other respects, unusual. I saw traits in her common to a lot of people these days – and possibly to myself, even if they are most pronounced in the young: she was subdued, serious, intermittently funny, distracted by constant electronic tics, slightly unavailable to herself. In so many respects, Océane seemed entirely normal, and I sensed that her online exploit, too, would become more customary over time.

Is Your Digital Life Ready for Your Death?

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You’ve probably thought about what will happen to your finances, your possessions and maybe even your real estate when you die. But what about your Facebook account? Or your hard-drive backups?

For the past two decades, most of us in the modern world have gradually shifted our central living space online. That’s 20-ish years of documenting our real-life experiences while also creating entirely new versions of ourselves in countless places online.

These digital lives are basically immortal, so you may as well figure out while you’re still alive what will happen to them after you’re gone.

There are two main things to consider: What will happen to your accounts and what will happen to the data contained therein. For example, you can give someone authority to delete your Google account and to download all your photos stored there after you die.

Death in the celebrity age

Despite being from 2005, this article is evermore relevant today, as it starts to feel like we’re mourning all of our favourite stars:

Chances are in 15-20 years, someone famous whose work you enjoyed or whom you admired or who had a huge influence on who you are as a person will die each day…and probably even more than one a day. And that’s just you…many other famous people will have died that day who mean something to other people. Will we all just be in a constant state of mourning? Will the NY Times national obituary section swell to 30 pages a day? As members of the human species, we’re used to dealing with the death of people we “know” in amounts in the low hundreds over the course of a lifetime. With higher life expectancies and the increased number of people known to each of us (particularly in the hypernetworked part of the world), how are we going to handle it when several thousand people we know die over the course of our lifetime?

The Art of Condolence

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Offering a written expression of condolence (from the Latin word condolere, to grieve or to suffer with someone) used to be a staple of polite society. “A letter of condolence may be abrupt, badly constructed, ungrammatical — never mind,” advised the 1960 edition of Emily Post. “Grace of expression counts for nothing; sincerity alone is of value.”

But these days, as Facebooking, Snapchatting or simply ignoring friends has become fashionable, the rules of expressing sympathy have become muddied at best, and concealed in an onslaught of emoji at worst. “Sorry about Mom. Sad face, sad face, crying face, heart, heart, unicorn.”