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I remember a surreal moment about twenty years ago, which felt like the beginning of something bad, and it was.
I was at a bowling alley with some friends, and a few people in our group were talking about Facebook. I knew what it was but had no interest in it. Then one of them turned to me and said, “There’s lots of pictures of you on Facebook!”
This kind of stunned me and I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t joined this website but somehow I was one of its features.
A year later all of us were using it. It was exciting at first, because it seemed to give us more access to the people in our lives. We could post photos, make plans, and stay connected to a wider circle of people.
I should note for younger readers that the term “people” at that time only referred to real, physical beings: persons with bodies that walked and drove around and did things. Having friends largely meant physically traveling to the same apartment, bowling alley, restaurant, or movie theater, positioning our bodies amongst each other in this physical space, and interacting using our faces and voices and hearts. The part of your life that consisted of this type of physical activity was called social life.
Social media was meant to facilitate this thing called social life. Facebook’s original purpose was to keep you in touch with people who would otherwise fall out of your social circle, namely people you went to school with.
It didn’t really do that. It mostly became a thing to do on your computer by yourself. Within a few years, social media came to be seen as a sort of processed-food version of social life: convenient, low-quality sustenance that should not make up most of your diet. It still seemed like food though, just crappy food.
I’ve been complaining about social media forever by this point, and so has everyone else. But a recent effort to actively rebuild my social life has revealed something about how these two things relate. Social media isn’t a cheap and inadequate facsimile of social life; it’s its exact opposite. It isn’t worse than social life at fostering personal connection, it undoes personal connection and reverses our social skills.
This is because social media doesn’t really allow you to interact with people. People are living beings with beating hearts and live emotions. Social life has always been about engaging in the immediate physical presence of such beings. Social media avoids exactly that part, while allowing you to exchange information and symbols of approval.
In a real social interaction, you’re entangled with the other person, physically and emotionally, in real time. Eyes are looking, faces are expressing, and emotions are humming, one hundred percent of the time. It’s nothing like browsing content or sending off messages — it’s much more akin to riding a horse. Moment-to-moment care is required. It can take you to all kinds of new places, but it has its hazards. You have to stay alert, watch your footing, and keep your heart open to this other living thing you’re entangled with. Doing it badly can lead to a nasty upset or even physical danger.
Online, you don’t interact with living beings. You interact with filtered bits of data issued by unseen, presumably living beings – messages, pictures, links, memes. Each party communicates like a paranoid medieval king, who sends out heralds to convey his latest position, then raises the drawbridge again.
Real interaction isn’t information exchange. It involves performing a host of specific, right-brained skills, all at once – how to get someone’s attention in a way agreeable to them, how to explore their preferred topic, how to take offense gracefully, where to put your eyes and your body, how to know when to unpack and when to summarize, and a lot more.
It all must be done live, with an audience. The human being is built for this sort of thing, but it still has to be learned by doing. The voice, face, body, and heart can work together the way a competent driver’s hands, feet, and eyes operate the steering wheel, gas pedal, turn signal, and mirror as though they’re one. When it’s really clicking, it’s a beautiful thing.
And none of it resembles in any way what you do when you thumb through an app. Social media is just a kind of solitary data processing game. You can exchange information while staying safe from the delicate challenges of real interaction. You can issue your opinions without the heat of real eyes looking at you. You can feel heard, and engage with “the world,” without ever having to account for the immediate presence of another person’s heart.
I think that’s why social media remains somewhat irresistible to many of us. The human being has powerful cravings for certain social rewards – approval, status, reassurance — but would like to have them without the hazards of real social life. Mucking up a real interaction is painful, and if your skills are poor, improving them is a major trial. Social media walls off all that trouble, while allowing some of the low-level rewards to come through, in the form of likes, stars, hearts, and other fake internet points. You can enjoy these scraps of approval while the wall shields you from the heat and danger of real-time entanglement with another human being.
These platforms now offer filters to make sure only the agreeable bits of other people come through. If someone gets annoying, you can mute them. You can filter out messages containing particular words. The algorithm will learn your intolerances, and show you only the parts of others that require less of your empathy and understanding. It’s no wonder that many people pride themselves on having zero tolerance for differences of political opinion — that degree of intolerance is actually possible now.
I’m sure some people have figured out how to use this technology to aid social life. But I think most of us have ended up using it unwittingly to the exact opposite effect, as protection against social life.
I guess what I’ve discovered, or re-discovered, is that social life was always a matter of physical action. It’s about getting your body into proximity with other bodies, of physically entering the voice- and heart-radius of other people. It involves things like dressing in front of a mirror, finding parking, entering buildings, shaking hands. It’s sitting across from people in living rooms, restaurants, and church basements. This sounds so obvious typing it out, but somehow I forgot for about twenty years.
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