Beginning June 1, 2023 (and continuing with a new entry posted here each Thursday) I will be publishing a long and winding essay building an argument (brick by tiny brick) for a global decoupling from social media. It is my conviction that our very survival depends on it. And this series is my earnest attempt to convince you as well. I want to be absolutely transparent. I have no skin in this game, no business relationships of any kind with any of the platforms. Although this first set of entries begins with Facebook, this is not an argument against Facebook specifically but against every single platform that appeals to our human need for connection and exploits that need without concern for the detritus and misery it leaves in its wake. If you find these arguments persuasive I hope you'll keep coming back for more, feeling free to post your thoughts in the comments and share the posts with your friends. It is not lost on me: the irony of asking for help sharing via the platforms a clarion call for all of humanity to reject these very platforms. But tell me, how else is guy with an idea and no marketing budget to get the word out? In the end, long after you and I have said our last goodbye, I'm sure of this: word of mouth will always be the most powerful way for ideas to spread: when one person looks another in the eye and says: "Trust me." Thanks. - RT
A Thousand Cuts Death by Social Media:
Intro to the Experiment
Would my life be more enjoyable without Facebook?
I appreciate that this is not an entirely original question. Still, I’m sure that for each of us it must be, by definition, a very personal one whose arrival cannot be rushed and naturally follows our own internal rhythms.
At the start of 2018, after a few years of dancing with this question I decided to undertake what I imagined to be a most modest unscientific experiment. One guinea pig: me. No random sample. No control group.
For the first seven days of 2018, I abstained (almost entirely; we’ll come back to the two exceptions later) from Facebook. I did so quite intentionally, with no fanfare, no announcements on social media. I felt somehow I needed to make my brief disappearance personal, not political, social or – god forbid – promotional.
I settled on a seven-day hiatus for a couple of reasons. I really approached this as research. I wanted to keep an open mind and simply observe any changes. I wanted to experience both weekdays and weekends so needed at least seven days away but also wanted it to feel utterly manageable for a person who had previously been logging onto the platform between 10 and 20 times a day. It was important to me that this not be framed in my mind as a resolution, but rather, an experiment. I would approach each day with curiosity and skepticism.
The discoveries came quickly and with surprising force.
On Day One I noted at least 25 times throughout the day, an impulse stir within me which I can only describe as “a call to post.” These calls to post took various forms. Some in response to an item I’d read in the newspaper or heard on the radio or seen in the streets. But always the impulse – if I examined it closely – could be traced to the same single root intention.
I have an idea.
Look at my idea.
Isn’t my idea clever?
And by extension, aren’t I?
I know I’m clever. And most of my real friends, family and acquaintances are also pretty clever themselves. We live in a pretty amusing bubble of wit and insight. I’m also pretty sure that they would agree that I am clever. Maybe not as fully so as they themselves, but clever nonetheless. Furthermore, most people in my life, if pressed for an answer would probably acknowledge that they know how much I appreciate their unique wit or point of view. Each is unique in their obsessions, ways of juxtaposing for comic effect, reframing and clever turns of phrase. In the case of those closest to me, I’d bet that show me a clever Facebook post and with 85-90% accuracy I’ll be able to properly attribute it.
So. Back to Day One. There I was swimming in impulses or pulls to post. But instead of acting on them, I simply went about my day. In the rare instance when one of these rose to a level I thought worthy of the interruption, I’d pause my day long enough to jot it down with paper and pen. But mostly, I just let these impulses arrive, amuse me and me alone, and then drift away, imperceptibly into the ether.
So, what happens to an idea that is not immediately posted online to one’s circle? In a way, posting my wit to Facebook is a kind of query. With each post I’m posing (in myriad guises) essentially the same question.
Is this as clever or interesting as I see it to be at this moment?
And the Likes and Shares that follow are my immediate answer.
Yes.
Yes, sort of.
Maybe.
Huh?
Oh boy.
Hell, yeah! etc. etc.
For seven days I had ideas which I kept to myself. As I said, most drifted away. Some, however, lingered or wandered in and out of consciousness, disappearing only to return hours (or days) later having somehow deepened or narrowed or shifted tone. In some cases ideas that had been concise and self-contained and satisfactory as is, somehow surprised me when they returned to consciousness hours later accompanied by uninvited and surprisingly intriguing cousins. And so, where there’d been one blink of an idea, instead I found myself making space for a hodge-podge family of related ideas, linked perhaps by connections I’d not been aware of, connections forged in my unconscious while I’d been tending to unrelated things.
Why should any of this matter?
[to be continued... same time, next week]
