You’ve probably seen the meme of Werner Herzog looking at a plastic bag or a penguin and finding something deeply, existentially terrifying about it. That’s his brand. But when he released his Lo and Behold documentary—officially titled Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World—it wasn't just another quirky exploration of the human condition. It was a warning shot fired from the very room where the internet was born.
The film starts at UCLA. Room 3420. It looks like a beige, boring storage closet. But this is the "holy of holies," the place where the first message was sent over the ARPANET in 1969. You’d think the first word sent into the digital ether would be something profound, like "What hath God wrought?" or "One small step." Nope. It was "LO." They were trying to type "LOGIN," but the system crashed after two letters.
It’s almost too perfect. The internet, this massive, world-altering behemoth that dictates your stock portfolio and your dating life, started with a glitch. Herzog loves that.
The Internet’s Fragile Skeleton
Most of us treat the internet like magic. It’s just "the cloud," right? Herzog hates that term. He spends a good chunk of the Lo and Behold documentary reminding us that the internet is physical. It’s wires. It’s glowing tubes. It’s massive cooling fans that sound like a jet engine taking off. He interviews Danny Hillis, a pioneer who reminds us that the internet was built on trust. Back in the day, the "directory" of the internet was basically a physical book of people’s phone numbers.
If you think about it, that’s terrifying.
We’ve built our entire civilization on a foundation that wasn’t designed to be secure. It was designed to be open. Herzog talks to experts like Elon Musk and Lucianne Walkowicz about what happens when—not if—a massive solar flare hits Earth. A Carrington-level event. If the grid goes down, the "connected world" vanishes. No GPS. No digital banking. No way to tell your mom you’re okay. We’d be back to the Stone Age in about 72 hours, give or take. Honestly, seeing Musk talk about the necessity of going to Mars not as a "cool adventure" but as a "backup drive for humanity" hits differently when Herzog is the one asking the questions.
The People Who Can't Live With Wi-Fi
One of the most haunting segments of the Lo and Behold documentary takes us to Green Bank, West Virginia. This is the home of the Robert C. Byrd Green Bank Telescope. Because the telescope is so sensitive it can hear the "whispers" of the universe, there is a literal "Radio Quiet Zone" around it. No cell phones. No Wi-Fi. No microwave ovens.
It’s a sanctuary for people who claim to suffer from electromagnetic hypersensitivity (EHS).
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Whether you believe EHS is a physical ailment or a psychological manifestation doesn't really matter to Herzog. What matters is the human story. You see these people living in the woods, playing banjos, finally free from the "buzz" of modern society. They look like refugees from a future that outpaced them. It makes you wonder if the constant bombardment of signals is doing something to the rest of us that we’re just too distracted to notice yet.
Then there’s the dark side. The Catsouras family story.
I’ll be honest, this part of the film is hard to watch. It’s about "cyber-vollyeurs." After a horrific car accident took the life of their daughter, Nikki, photos of the scene were leaked by first responders and spread like wildfire. The family was harassed. Strangers sent the photos to the parents with taunting messages. Herzog doesn't show the photos. He shows the faces of the survivors. He calls the internet a manifestation of the "Devil" in this context. It’s a stark reminder that while the internet connects us, it also provides a mask for the most depraved parts of human nature.
Can a Robot Have Memories?
Herzog asks the big, weird questions. He asks a room full of researchers at Carnegie Mellon if "the internet dreams of itself." Most of them look at him like he’s crazy. But then he talks to people working on robots that play soccer.
He watches these little mechanical legs kick a ball and asks if the researchers love the robot. They hesitate. One of them basically says, "Yeah, kind of." It’s a glimpse into the blurring lines of consciousness. If we can fall in love with a line of code or a chassis of wires, what does that say about us?
Sebastian Thrun, a giant in the world of AI and self-driving cars, pops up to talk about how machines learn. It’s not like a human learning to drive. When one self-driving car makes a mistake, every self-driving car in the world learns from it instantly. That’s a level of collective intelligence that humans can’t touch. We are individual units. The internet is a hive mind.
Why This Movie Matters in 2026
When the Lo and Behold documentary came out, we were still in the "honeymoon phase" of social media. We thought connectivity was purely a net positive. Today, we’re dealing with deepfakes, algorithmic radicalization, and the mental health crisis linked to constant scrolling. Herzog saw the cracks in the porcelain before the rest of us did.
He doesn't give us a "conclusion" because the story isn't over. The internet is still in its infancy. We are the first generation to live entirely documented lives.
Actionable Insights for the Digital Age
If you’ve watched the film—or even if you’re just thinking about the themes Herzog raised—there are a few ways to navigate this "connected world" without losing your mind.
- Audit your physical dependence. If your internet went out for a week, do you have a way to access cash? Do you have physical maps of your local area? Keep a small "analog backup" for your life.
- Practice "Digital Quiet Time." You don't have to move to West Virginia, but setting a "no-signal" window in your day helps reset your nervous system.
- Verify before you react. The "cyber-vollyeur" phenomenon thrives on impulse. Before sharing a sensational story or image, remember the human cost shown in the Catsouras segment.
- Watch the film on a big screen. Don't watch it on your phone. The irony of watching Herzog’s critique of small-screen obsession on a 6-inch display is too much to bear.
The Lo and Behold documentary remains a masterpiece because it doesn't try to be a tech review. It’s a philosophical inquiry into what it means to be human when our brains are becoming increasingly fused with a global network of silicon and light. Herzog isn't telling us to throw our routers in the trash. He's just asking us to look up from the screen long enough to realize that the person sitting across from us is more complex than any algorithm ever will be.
To truly understand the impact of the film, look for the scenes where Herzog remains silent. He lets the camera linger on a person's face after they've finished talking. In those long, awkward silences, you see the truth: we are lonely, we are brilliant, and we are incredibly vulnerable to the tools we've created.
Next Steps for Deep Diving into Herzog’s Vision:
- Watch "Grizzly Man" to see Herzog’s take on the brutality of nature versus the fragility of human obsession.
- Read "The Shallows" by Nicholas Carr, which provides the scientific data that backs up many of the philosophical fears raised in the documentary.
- Visit the Online Archive of the ARPANET to see the actual logs and documents from the room featured at the start of the film.