I've been playing with social networks over the past few months, thinking a bit about how a network of cyber-friends compares with friends in real space. One of the most interesting things about these networks is that physical distance disappears completely, which is a part of the point -- we don't have to be together to be together -- but I think what interests me more is the all-or-none-ness of that togetherness. In real life, I have close friends whom I would tell essentially anything, work colleagues whom I would tell certain things, and acquaintances whom I would tell much less. Unless I'm missing something (possible...I haven't really looked under the hood of these applications as much as I'd like), it's hard to make these subtle distinctions on most social networks. There is the capacity to send private messages, but other than that there's no real way to set up different "levels" of friendship***. It's as if my Facebook friends, no matter where they came from, are all in the same room with me, all of the time. And unless I decide to completely seal the vault, my Tweets are available to all who stumble by. At a deep psychological level, I think that's part of the appeal. These networks may be satisfying cravings for something we've lost -- more about that another day. I think there may also be a certain little thrill -- a cybernetic frisson of something like exhibitionism that comes from putting something out there, sometimes something deeply personal, while surrendering control of the audience. I think there are also reasons for an increase in that urge--again perhaps a topic for another day.
For me, these distinctions between different levels of cyber-intimacy have mostly come into sharp relief with family members -- my children in particular. Three of my children have Facebook accounts, but I'm only friends with one of them. I see photos of her with friends at parties. She sees my idiotic status updates. I hardly ever look at her pages (unless I'm worried about her) and what strikes me is how much, when I go there, it feels like days when we were all younger when, struck with the same kind of parental concern, I'd go for a wander through her room. Not prying, opening drawers, reading diaries, but just taking a little tour, looking at the topmost layer, seeing what books she had out, what photos she had been looking at. Getting--essentially--a status update.
Before cyberspace, we managed our connections with people largely by artful arrangement of time, space, and physical walls. Now, with the expression "behind closed doors" becoming less and less meaningful, we seem as though we're all on the way to putting ourselves into a gigantic auditorium where all voices can be heard at the same time, and every awkward moment, panic attack, angry outburst, and pathetic sob can be witnessed by all. Sometimes I think there's something wonderful about that, but I wonder whether we should be spending more time thinking about the electronic equivalents of walls and doors, how they might be made to work in cyberspace not so much to send our kids to their rooms (which is now almost impossible to do anyway), as to actually facilitate human engagement by putting the walls just where and when they're needed.
I don't want to see my kid drinking beer at a club, but it is nice to have another way to find out whether she's ok.
***UPDATE: Now that I've skulked off to my office on a holiday Monday to have a better look at some Facebook features, I stand corrected. In fact, for certain kinds of content on Facebook (photographs for instance) it is possible to tweak exactly who sees your content, so it is theoretically possible to sculpt one's public persona. It's interesting, though, that a brief browse through the photo collections of people I DON'T know suggests to me that this might not be done very often. Interesting that the default condition is to allow photos to be visible to all. What is this saying?
Comments