Social Media and SocietyEdited by Tamara Fynaardt

Capitalizing on the Internet

Joel Anderson ’02 lives in Massachusetts and teaches at Smith College and the University of Hartford; this fall his class Total Noise: Going Deaf in the Information Age was named a Hot College Course by thedailybeast.com.

Remember when using the Internet meant no one else in your house could use the phone? Remember when your computer contained less memory than today’s coffeemakers and loading even a modest-sized graphic was like watching a window shade being pulled down your screen by an arthritic hand? Of course, you didn’t mind because the Information Age had arrived, and everything was about to be possible.

Well, from where I’m sitting (in a café, surrounded by the blue glow of laptops) there are at least two ironies of the Information Age. The first is that one of its effects has been a decline in vetted news: Journalists are out of work, and print news agencies are fiscally broke. That’s unfortunate for anyone who believes being a responsible participant in American democracy requires access to reliable information about what is actually going on across our nation.

A corollary to this first irony is that a lot of information is still out there; I just have to do some industrious sifting, sorting and hyper-nuanced Googling to make sense of it—assuming I don’t want to just go ahead and take Glenn Beck’s or Keith Olbermann’s word for it.

Which brings me to the second irony of the Information Age: The technological tools I can use to figure out whether or not lowering taxes might jumpstart the economy (enabling informed citizenship and voting) are the same tools I use to watch YouTube videos, read celebrity gossip, and tweet my friends for movie recommendations.

And at the end of a long day, chances are deciphering the U.S. tax code and figuring out how it affects GDP is not even within a high-powered telescope’s view of watching some dude fail to execute a backflip on YouTube. It just isn’t—most of the time, anyway.

So to make time for all the Information Age has to offer, I might simply resort to the comfortable dogmatism of the TV Right or the TV Left, choosing the sound bite that supports what I originally thought anyway.

We were promised a brave, new world, but instead we’ve settled for just a bigger version of the planet that already exists behind our eyelids. There’s an “I” in Internet, after all, and it’s
capitalized.

Social Media and the Masses

Dr. Eileen (Ringnalda ’96) Barron is the Utah communications and public involvement manager for Parsons Brinckerhoff, an international engineering firm. A blogger and tweeter, she tracks industry trends in social media use and also teaches communications at Utah Valley University.

In mass media like newspapers, radio and television, the term “gatekeepers” refers to those who decide what is published or given air time; historically, mass media gatekeepers are a relatively small number of people, like producers or editors.

Social media revolutionize the gatekeeper role, enabling information seekers to be their own information gatekeepers. You decide who you want to hear from by clicking on links of interest, visiting recommended websites, and participating in online chats or discussions of value to you.

We’ll still turn to mass media to meet certain information and entertainment needs, but social media’s customizable information facilitates a new kind of interaction with the larger world—one, I believe, that is earning its place alongside other media formats in our multimedia society.

Ski Tweets

David Harding ’90 is a senior writer and constituent response manager for “Family Talk with Dr. James Dobson,” available online at myfamilytalk.com.

While driving to work recently, enjoying the golden aspens beneath Pike’s Peak, I caught part of an advertisement for a ski resort proclaiming itself “the most wired ski resort in Colorado!” and offering to “alert you when your friends hit the slopes!”

Alert me when my friends hit the slopes?! It’s annoying enough that wherever I go, all I see are the tops of people’s heads because eyes are glued to handhelds that have to be checked during meetings, while shopping, at the theatre, in church or even behind the wheel. But on the slopes? We’re talking Colorado skiing. Look at that view! Watch out for that tree!!

It’s true: We’re obsessed with being connected. Online networks like Facebook satisfy a primal desire we have to be part of the group. They also satisfy our yearning to be heard: “On my way to work. Fifth red light in a row!” invariably receives a sympathetic “Too bad! Happened to me yesterday.” Someone feels my pain.

But Facebook creates false intimacy. I can connect with old—I mean former—classmates, be their “friend,” and voyeuristically see what they look like, who they married and whether their kids seem normal. I can read their posts and view their photos without offering anything in return (except maybe permission to view my photos, which show I still have my hair, and my wife and kids are adorably photogenic). I can reach through cyberspace and “poke” my friends, but it’s like giving a man-hug, my fingertips barely tapping someone’s back while I avoid any real contact.

Do I really want to be tweeted when my friends hit the slopes? Nah. But for anyone who’s thinking, “Cool! What’s the name of the resort?” I can’t tell you. I tuned out and went back to enjoying
the view.

Simulating the Social

Dr. Bill Swart ’88 is a sociology professor at Augustana College, Sioux Falls. He assigns students to read Robert Putnam’s Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, about society’s decreasing connectedness.

“… [O]ur society is perhaps in the process of putting an end
to the social,of burying the social beneath a simulation of the social …”
Jean Baudrillard, In the Shadow of the Silent Majorities

Evan’s text arrives during English 210: “Diana, you’re so beautiful. I’m thinking about you. I can’t believe we’ve been dating for 1 year, 53 days and 7 hours!”

“He’s so romantic,” she thinks. “How awesome to have a boyfriend who’s always thinking of me.”

Social media. Isn’t it interesting how our understanding of “social” has changed—how we’ve lowered the bar on social interaction? Certainly Facebook, e-mail and texting have expanded the immediacy, efficiency and breadth of our interactions, but haven’t they simultaneously eroded the depth of emotion we experience in our interactions? Evan’s text messages may enable him to share his emotions instantly with Diana, but his digital sweet nothings aren’t quite as sweet—or substantive—as if he had communicated them in person.

Social theorist Slavoj Žižek takes this one step further by suggesting that social media doesn’t just dull our experience of the social, it destroys it altogether. Social media transforms our interaction into “interpassivity” by severing our emotional connections to one another while simultaneously providing a simulation of social life.

Consider “Girlfriend Keeper,” the iPod app that sends automated text messages to your significant other. Diana doesn’t realize that Evan’s electronic endearments have been randomly chosen from thousands of pre-written text messages in Girlfriend Keeper’s database. These virtual love notes transfer the romance to the technology, freeing Evan from any real emotional effort while interpassively simulating romance.

One danger of social media lies in the “poverty of affect” that comes with interpassivity. Žižek cautions that we are becoming so embedded in social media that we’re less capable—and even less willing—to make emotional connections. We choose instead to hide behind our Facebook profiles, carefully sharing “what’s on our mind” one update at a time.

Even more unsettling: If Cooley’s theory of the Looking-Glass Self is right, and we really do see ourselves as we think other people see us, then a culture of social media doesn’t just erode our understanding of one another; also it limits our ability to understand ourselves.

To Friends on Facebook

Anna Bartlett is a Northwestern College junior majoring in English literature and serving as an R.A. in Fern Smith Hall.

Hey, buddy, I’ve noticed you spend an inordinate amount of time staring at a screen. I walk down the hall and see you clicking through someone’s pictures. Two doors down, Carrie is reading someone’s wall post. Why don’t you sign off and chat with each other? Last year one of the wings in Fern held a Facebook fast, and for once, wingmates hung out together in the hallway instead of alone in front of their computers.

Humans are always inventing new technologies for the purpose of increasing efficiency, saving time and expending less effort. But I’d argue that relationships should be neither efficient nor something we wish to spend less time and energy on. There is something rich and gratifying about giving your entire attention to the person in front of you.

So, friend, if you are going to procrastinate, procrastinate by spending time with people on our wing; get to know someone you haven’t talked to very much or reach out to someone who isn’t well known. Think how much better you will feel procrastinating in the name of loving others rather than for the hollow “community” Facebook offers.

Writing in Decline? DSL. (Doesn’t Seem Likely.)

Tom Truesdell ’01 is the director of academic support at Northwestern College. He also teaches writing and is earning a doctorate in composition and teaching English as a second language from Indiana University of Pennsylvania. Truesdell does not have a Facebook page, but he watches the kids while his wife updates hers.

Invariably when I announce I teach writing, someone will use my career confession as an opportunity to lament the degradation of students’ writing skills: “Kids today just do not know how to write,” they’ll say before adding the caveat, “I blame technology. Texting and e-mail are ruining the English language.” 

I probably shouldn’t be surprised by this response. As someone who studies writing, I know people have been lamenting declining writing skills throughout history. In the 17th century, the Royal Society of England endorsed the creation of a National Language Academy to rectify the declining writing and speaking skills of English citizens. Two hundred years later, Harvard University was offering the first college composition courses for “uneducated” rural students.

Interestingly, these examples occurred before e-mail and texting. So for me, the argument that technology has somehow resulted in poor writing is shaky. Instead I echo Denis Baron’s observation that digital technology is simply the latest step in a long line of writing technologies.

Baron points out that the computer’s development into a writing tool parallels the development of the pencil: Like the computer, pencils were not created for writing communication, and like the computer, pencils were initially resisted by educators who believed that student writing would decline if they were allowed to erase and revise.

The truth is, more people are reading and writing today than ever before, and they’re reading and writing more than they ever have. Perhaps students are writing fewer carefully crafted thesis statements, but they are more aware of their audience because they have learned writing an e-mail to Mom is different than commenting on their friend’s Facebook photos.   

Of course, all of this goodwill toward technology is coming from someone who loves reading but refuses to buy a Kindle.

Community Haiku

David Bruxvoort is a Northwestern College sophomore majoring in pre-engineering. He also keeps busy as an R.A. in Colenbrander Hall.

I often ask the guys on my wing: What brought you to Northwestern College? The answer is as varied as the students who attend NWC. However, for many of us, the tight campus community was part of the draw.

Yet even though many students came here to experience a unique sense of community, what I see, walking through the hall as an R.A., is disheartening. On any given night, the men on my wing are on Facebook, texting, following Twitter, using Skype, perusing MySpace, sending e-mails or talking on their cell phones.

Information Age enthusiasts will argue my nightly observations are proof that widespread social media use is indicative of its value. I disagree. A Facebook status update is no substitute for one that is face-to-face.

Connectivity isn’t the same thing as community. Just as the 17 syllables of the haiku I wrote only hint at what I’m trying to express in these four paragraphs, the avenues of communication available to us today—like tweets and Facebook updates—should be supplements, not substitutes, for the personal  contact necessary to build deep and meaningful community.

Social Networking @ Work

Emily (Gosselink ’00) Ford is the associate dean of students at Covenant College in Lookout Mountain, Ga. She’s had a Facebook account since the website was launched in 2004.

As depicted in the recently-released film, The Social Network, Facebook started on college campuses. As someone who spends a lot of time on a college campus, I enjoy observing how social networks like Facebook affect the relationships we seek to develop in residence life. Yes, there are negative aspects of Facebook (Farmville, anyone?), but if used properly, it can be an effective tool in nurturing communication and community.

One of our freshmen was having an especially difficult time transitioning to college this fall. A California native, Julie* hadn’t met anyone on our Georgia campus before arriving. But when she was having a particularly rough time dealing with a situation back home, she felt immediately comfortable going to her R.A., Carrie*, because Carrie had connected with Julie on Facebook during the summer.

In fact, Carrie had used Facebook to start building relationships with all the women on her floor before they arrived on campus. Their Facebook friendships weren’t a replacement for the personal relationships they’re building with each other now, but that initial connection helped Julie and her wingmates feel like they already had a home and a community at Covenant.

Students at Covenant eat meals around tables full of friends, talk through tough issues in class, and live as close as family in our residence halls. But they’re also having conversations by Facebook chat, commenting on each other’s photos and sending invitations to events.

Facebook doesn’t replace community; instead, it broadens it. It helps us stay connected with family and friends across time and place, which makes relationships feel less temporary and transient. It reminds us we’re all part of a larger world—and a life far away does not have to be a life far removed.

*Student names have been changed.

The Beauty of Being Two-Faced

Julie (Vermeer ’97) Elliott teaches Christian ethics and interdisciplinary studies at Eastern University in St. Davids, Pa. She has written about the faux friendships fostered by reality TV for Christianity Today and in a New York Times “Room for Debate” blog post.

When I was in middle and high school, I often participated in a favorite pastime of teenage girls: scrutinizing one another. We were always on the lookout for fashion and social faux pas. Was her skirt too skimpy? Her hair too poofy? (Given it was the late ’80s, it was never poofy enough.)

Or worst of all: Was she two-faced? Reflecting back, I realize this was not merely a teenage social ethic, but rather, a universal one: A two-faced person is deceitful and hypocritical; she’s resented because she alters her one authentic self depending on her company and context.

But what if there is something right about being two-faced (or three- or four-faced)? While it’s wrong to be dishonest or phony, I’d argue there is something appropriate about shifting our words, tone and gestures according to our intended audience. I project a different persona when I’m teaching than when I’m chatting with my auto mechanic.

The ability to present different faces to different audiences is a key to being a discerning communicator. Unfortunately, it’s just this ability that is inhibited by social networking sites, where people we know from diverse contexts—former classmates, co-workers, distant acquaintances, family members—all converge into one indistinguishable group of “friends.” Whenever I post something online—whether a photo, link or status update—it’s broadcast indiscriminately to all my “friends.”

The problem, of course, is that this information is not filtered or nuanced, as it is in personal encounters. While half my Facebook friends may appreciate my perspective on the proposed cultural center in lower Manhattan (a.k.a. the “Ground Zero Mosque”), the other half may be offended. Although my close friends may like to know if I am frustrated by my job on a given day, my supervisor might not appreciate that tidbit. Online postings lack a specific audience, which leaves me with two imperfect options: Post something substantive and risk offending someone, or post something superficial that neither offends nor enriches anyone.

On Facebook we have only one face for an amorphous audience. Perhaps it’s time to reclaim a more discerning kind of communication that recognizes the inherent complexity of relationships and embraces, in the very best sense of the word, the beauty of being two-faced.

Facebook Friends to the End

Todd Thompson ’85, Lubbock, Texas, is a writer and author of the blog ASliceOfLifeToGo.com. Self-described as “always late to the technology party,” Thompson recently purchased a Droid Incredible and is still unsure whether buying a smart phone was a smart move.

The small world/big world nature of Facebook hit home for me recently when an elderly missionary friend serving in a remote part of Kenya became very sick with a life-threatening kidney ailment. He was transported to a hospital in Nairobi, where he had no support network.

I put out a prayer request on Facebook, asking for help from anyone with connections in Kenya. A Facebook friend I’ve never met personally e-mailed from San Antonio to say she used to live across the street from the Nairobi hospital and a friend was still a physician there. A couple of quick e-mails, and my missionary friend had a physician by his bedside.

Most of us underestimate the potential of these friend-of-a-friend connections. If one has 200 friends—be they Facebook or otherwise—and each of them has 200 friends, you’re one introduction away from 40,000 people.

Most of us wouldn’t know where to start if we wanted to communicate with a quarter-million people, but that’s the networking potential of a fairly average Facebook friend list. Apply that to business, politics or ministry, and you quickly realize the potential to organize, impact and influence.

If Facebook is that powerful a communication tool, how are we using it? Are we using it to connect people for kingdom purposes, share our needs for prayer, encourage one another, and enhance and equip ministries to share the life-changing gospel of Jesus?

The popularity of Facebook illustrates that we want to belong to something bigger than ourselves. That someone would find our status update interesting or care to look at our Colorado vacation photos is indicative of our desire to connect.

Yet I confess that as much as I appreciate the glimpses into my friends’ lives, I also feel a little like I am “on the outside looking in.” I’m thankful I can connect with people far away but sad I don’t live close enough to be more intimately involved in their lives. It makes me look forward to heaven, where relationships won’t be bound by time or place.