Every week or so, it happens: another friend announces that they are leaving the online social world because they can’t take the the hypocrisy anymore. Often, these announcements are on a grand scale: a long post or email that details how they can no longer put up with the fake online interaction and that their real life is suffering from lack of attention. They usually profess an undying love for written mail and phone calls, saying that true friends will keep in touch. Commentors leave touching goodbyes, congratulating them for their brilliant idea and expressing their jealousy of being able to log off.
I call foul. Enough already.
Social media and other so-called evils are exactly not that. Yes, I log in and see John’s magazine-worthy vacation pictures and Mary’s Martha-inspired craft projects. It makes you a little jealous, doesn’t it? But doesn’t it also make you a little jealous when your neighbor pulls up in a brand new car or when your younger sister gets engaged before you do? We don’t need to blame the online world for our jealously—it’s already there. Saying that Facebook, Twitter, or other social media creates a false reality is ignoring the humanity of those with a username. We’re naturally going to present our best side, whether it’s our beautiful children or .
It’s a tool, an item. But people are people, whether on Twitter or not. A few examples:
Nearly two years ago, someone on Twitter asked for someone who had experience with cleft to contact her. I responded and soon was talking to her pregnant sister, who was just told her baby had a cleft lip and palate. It was a pleasure to talk to this woman, to reassure her that her baby would be healthy and healed soon. I wasn’t just talking—this is something I know firsthand. I wish someone had done that for me when Nate was first diagnosed.
On the other hand, the online world can lead to too much information, especially regarding health issues. It may start out as looking for a diagnoses for a headache, but if not checked, you will soon be hiding under your desk convinced you have a cancerous brain tumor. Ask me how I know.
What is the constant is these two scenarios? The internet, of course, but more importantly, the people using it. In the first example, that woman may have gotten help from another source, but it was given to her faster and more efficiently through Twitter. In the second, a non-medical person sifted through every possible diagnosis (made quickly available online) and settled on the one that is most feared. That is the nature of disease, of humanity. People were hypochondriacs long before WebMD.
I’m a fan of the interwebs. I love ‘em all, to varying degrees. It allows me, a stay-at-home-mom who shares one car with her commuting husband, a glimpse into other people’s lives. It’s information, entertainment, and the world at my keyboard. I know that these people will never be as close as my family and friends, but I don’t expect them to be. I see that the gift of the technology is defined by its limitations. As long as I don’t confuse the two, the tool is no longer a curse.
Social media and other evils are reshaping our world, both shrinking its size and expanding our influence. Instead of simply bemoaning the fall of decent society, we would serve ourselves to find where our humanity meets technology, how it helps us and limits us. We are people of our culture, despite our protestation. Perhaps the answer to this brave new world is simply remembering the simplest fact of all: that we are human.
