To weigh in on this whole "Does Facebook make us lonely" debate: one of the most interesting things about technology is the way it can illuminate gaps or problematic evolution in our national psyche. By making it easier for us to relate, social media throws light on the ways in which we don't relate. This is essentially what happened with that lightning-rod Dharun Ravi case, and it's what's happening now with this whole Facebook-and-loneliness conversation.
With Ravi, the most troubling element of his case wasn't the easy availability of potentially invasive technology, it was his lack of knowledge about how to use that technology responsibly, and his even more troubling lack of empathy. (That our schools and institutions seem to have abandoned the promulgation of empathy - one of the basic building blocks of community and civic virtue - is another troubling insight into the structure of American society, particularly at the so-called "successful" levels.)
With Facebook loneliness, though, the problem seems deeper rooted. Stephen Marche, author of the Atlantic cover story "Is Facebook making Us Lonely?" says so outright: "Loneliness is at the American core, a by-product of a long-standing national appetite for independence."
Every lifestyle carries a cost. Loneliness isn't the byproduct of independence, it is the inevitable price (Marche gets to this later on). The great thing about living an independent life is that it teaches each of us the extent of our individual willingness to pay.
Of modern relationships, Marche writes, "We meet fewer people. We gather less. And when we gather, our bonds are less meaningful and less easy." When my house caught fire and I dramatically left Delhi for Mumbai, I moped bitterly about the lack of support from my network in Delhi. But when I asked myself how much time, energy and effort I'd invested in most of my relationships, I drew a telling blank. When I chose to move to Delhi, I decided to leave behind the network of people who had known and nurtured me my entire life. In a moment of extreme loneliness, I discovered - to a certain extent - that the lifestyle I had in Delhi (carefree, full of parties, unencumbered) carried a price that maybe I wasn't always willing to pay. But I also saw that my situation was the result of my own choices, and actually had nothing to do with location. If my relationships were tenuous and poorly defined, it was no one's fault but mine. How and what to invest in others - and in whom to invest - is a lesson we all must learn, usually painfully.
But it remains unclear in Marche's story - and in my mind - how exactly Facebook is related to the rise in American loneliness. Increasing loneliness and the increasing availability of technology are concurrent trends - and certainly, the rise of personal technology has helped seal us off in bubbles of our own creation. I remember an article in Slate a while back that lamented the rise of CD players because they turned public experiences - shared commutes, for example - into private ones, but that suggests that in the absence of consumer electronics we'd spend our commute chatting up and bonding with our fellow passengers. An unlikely premise, honestly.
In a response in the NY Times, psychologist Sherry Turkle hits on something that seems far more right when she says, "We can't get enough of one another if we can use technology to keep one another at distances we can control: not too close, not too far, just right."
A Facebook identity defeats intimacy because it is watertight. Relationships work best - and become closest - in those moments when we lose control of the "selves" we've crafted and realize that despite our weaknesses, we can still be loved. Marche writes, "People who are married are less lonely than single people, one journal article suggests, but only if their spouses are confidantes."
What does it mean to create or cultivate a "confidante"? How is it possible that people can spend years married to someone - theoretically breathing alongside them part of the day and all of the night - and still not feel like they have a "confidante"? A friend of mine once referred to the decision to get married as a "leap of faith in conversation" - which brings us back to Turkle's point. It's not about Facebook, really, but about the nature of what we choose to share with each other. After I moved back to Delhi, some of the people I knew at that time were surprised to discover that I'd left so dramatically - "we would have helped you," some of them said, repeatedly.
Some of the most valuable turning points in my personal relationships have grown out of moments of confidence that were - honestly - unintentional, when a personal weight became just too heavy for me to carry alone. Developing confidantes, I have learned, is a slow and arduous process that involves allowing other people into the very things we hide from our Facebook profiles. It's about abandoning whatever "brands" we've created for ourselves. Developing deep relationships is not something that happens to us magically, it is a process far more intense, complicated and personal than sending a friend request.
Here's another interesting correlation: Marche cites an Australian study, "Facebook users have higher levels of total narcissism, exhibitionism, and leadership than Facebook nonusers."
One of those three things is not - or at least shouldn't be - like the others. If we have abandoned empathy and, in our quest for individuality, lost the ability to talk to, confide in and connect with each other, let's not lay the blame at Facebook's door (login screen?), however convenient that may be. Let's redefine leadership in such a way that it doesn't correlate with narcissism and exhibitionism. Let's award power in society to people who display depth of character and intellect, not just a staggering talent for self-promotion.
Marche ends his story, "What Facebook has revealed about human nature - and this is not a minor revelation - is that a connection is not the same thing as a bond."
What Marche's article makes me wonder about American society - and this is not a minor question - is why we need a social network to teach us that.
With Ravi, the most troubling element of his case wasn't the easy availability of potentially invasive technology, it was his lack of knowledge about how to use that technology responsibly, and his even more troubling lack of empathy. (That our schools and institutions seem to have abandoned the promulgation of empathy - one of the basic building blocks of community and civic virtue - is another troubling insight into the structure of American society, particularly at the so-called "successful" levels.)
With Facebook loneliness, though, the problem seems deeper rooted. Stephen Marche, author of the Atlantic cover story "Is Facebook making Us Lonely?" says so outright: "Loneliness is at the American core, a by-product of a long-standing national appetite for independence."
Every lifestyle carries a cost. Loneliness isn't the byproduct of independence, it is the inevitable price (Marche gets to this later on). The great thing about living an independent life is that it teaches each of us the extent of our individual willingness to pay.
Of modern relationships, Marche writes, "We meet fewer people. We gather less. And when we gather, our bonds are less meaningful and less easy." When my house caught fire and I dramatically left Delhi for Mumbai, I moped bitterly about the lack of support from my network in Delhi. But when I asked myself how much time, energy and effort I'd invested in most of my relationships, I drew a telling blank. When I chose to move to Delhi, I decided to leave behind the network of people who had known and nurtured me my entire life. In a moment of extreme loneliness, I discovered - to a certain extent - that the lifestyle I had in Delhi (carefree, full of parties, unencumbered) carried a price that maybe I wasn't always willing to pay. But I also saw that my situation was the result of my own choices, and actually had nothing to do with location. If my relationships were tenuous and poorly defined, it was no one's fault but mine. How and what to invest in others - and in whom to invest - is a lesson we all must learn, usually painfully.
But it remains unclear in Marche's story - and in my mind - how exactly Facebook is related to the rise in American loneliness. Increasing loneliness and the increasing availability of technology are concurrent trends - and certainly, the rise of personal technology has helped seal us off in bubbles of our own creation. I remember an article in Slate a while back that lamented the rise of CD players because they turned public experiences - shared commutes, for example - into private ones, but that suggests that in the absence of consumer electronics we'd spend our commute chatting up and bonding with our fellow passengers. An unlikely premise, honestly.
In a response in the NY Times, psychologist Sherry Turkle hits on something that seems far more right when she says, "We can't get enough of one another if we can use technology to keep one another at distances we can control: not too close, not too far, just right."
A Facebook identity defeats intimacy because it is watertight. Relationships work best - and become closest - in those moments when we lose control of the "selves" we've crafted and realize that despite our weaknesses, we can still be loved. Marche writes, "People who are married are less lonely than single people, one journal article suggests, but only if their spouses are confidantes."
What does it mean to create or cultivate a "confidante"? How is it possible that people can spend years married to someone - theoretically breathing alongside them part of the day and all of the night - and still not feel like they have a "confidante"? A friend of mine once referred to the decision to get married as a "leap of faith in conversation" - which brings us back to Turkle's point. It's not about Facebook, really, but about the nature of what we choose to share with each other. After I moved back to Delhi, some of the people I knew at that time were surprised to discover that I'd left so dramatically - "we would have helped you," some of them said, repeatedly.
Some of the most valuable turning points in my personal relationships have grown out of moments of confidence that were - honestly - unintentional, when a personal weight became just too heavy for me to carry alone. Developing confidantes, I have learned, is a slow and arduous process that involves allowing other people into the very things we hide from our Facebook profiles. It's about abandoning whatever "brands" we've created for ourselves. Developing deep relationships is not something that happens to us magically, it is a process far more intense, complicated and personal than sending a friend request.
Here's another interesting correlation: Marche cites an Australian study, "Facebook users have higher levels of total narcissism, exhibitionism, and leadership than Facebook nonusers."
One of those three things is not - or at least shouldn't be - like the others. If we have abandoned empathy and, in our quest for individuality, lost the ability to talk to, confide in and connect with each other, let's not lay the blame at Facebook's door (login screen?), however convenient that may be. Let's redefine leadership in such a way that it doesn't correlate with narcissism and exhibitionism. Let's award power in society to people who display depth of character and intellect, not just a staggering talent for self-promotion.
Marche ends his story, "What Facebook has revealed about human nature - and this is not a minor revelation - is that a connection is not the same thing as a bond."
What Marche's article makes me wonder about American society - and this is not a minor question - is why we need a social network to teach us that.
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