Shallow Be My Name

You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t written anything, not in this blog or my “I am Not a Baker” blog for a very, very long time. I don’t really have a good excuse for the latter as I bake all the time. I just don’t write about it. But this blog? This blog is tough to write in times like these. If, like me, you spend any portion of your day watching CNN you know what I’m talking about. Laugh if you must. I have learned a lot from Brianna, Jake, Dana, Laura, Erin, Wilf, Fredrika, Anderson and Kaitlin, not to mention Fareed, John and Harry. Ok. I watch more than a little CNN. I’ve learned that this world has seen better days. That one guy, who’s not even that smart, can upend the world economy at his whim. That a few megalomaniacs (that’s him too) can order people at their behest to kill each other so they can expand their own kingdoms. And while these self-professed kings occupy themselves with their exploits they sit on their proverbial asses while the world and lives around them are literally destroyed by fires and floods. Of course they do send their thoughts and prayers and a few National Guardsmen to help out. Perhaps though not as many as they send to quell the voices of those who protest against their outrageous policies. So you can see how it might be difficult to write a blog about the life of a shallow person amidst all of this tragedy, turmoil and destruction. Which is why I haven’t. And which is why this is not really a shallow blog. It’s just something I want to say. 

So what has brought me here today? Let me take a little foray into my past life to explain. And since I have a rather long past, this could take a minute. I’ll do my best though to make a longish story shortish. Those who know, know that I spent a good deal of my working life online. That’s not so unusual today but I don’t work today. Let me put this in perspective for you. I worked online before anyone really knew what a hyperlink was. And yes, we called them hyperlinks. Those who did know were concerned that being able to jump from one computer screen to another would be confusing and affect people’s ability to concentrate. It is and it does. You could only buy books on Amazon. Google was really new. There was no “voice over internet”. You get the picture. It was a long time ago. But my job was to bring people together to learn. On-line. And as much as I embraced my job, I knew from the get-go that we were not in Kansas anymore. That we had opened a whole new can of worms, a virtual Pandora’s Box (swIdt) that once opened would likely never be closed again. And while my working days are far and away, this week-end, as I settled into my Saturday morning routine, enjoying my yogurt parfait, perusing the business section of the Globe with CNN droning in the background, you know, the usual, my ears perked up when Michael Smerconish arrived with his Saturday morning commentary. Now you will note that there were no “Michaels” in my rather lengthy list of CNN favs, primarily because I have never really listened to Smerconish before. Not sure why. I just haven’t. But this Saturday morning I did. Because he was talking about something I knew a little bit about. And talked about a lot. 

You see Mr. Smerconish was talking about nostalgia. Reminiscing, it would seem, about the best time of his life. It was 1978. Honestly, at this point I wasn’t listening all that carefully (there’s only so much multi-tasking I can handle these days) but it had something to do with saving up a few shekels and going to a bar on the Jersey Shore with his buddies. Beer was 7 for a dollar. Apparently the bartender danced on the tables. Wouldn’t have been the best time of my life but who am I to judge? But then things got interesting and my ears perked up. He began to talk about connection and how people used to get together and do stuff. About how the internet has changed all of that. Rather than being a conduit to bring people closer it has served to tear us apart. Mostly because we no longer do stuff together. In person. He talked about how everything is so divisive now. How we have become isolated from one another. We no longer have the ability to compromise. Political parties have become more extreme. We’ve all picked a side and we’re staying on it. His conclusion. The internet has reshaped our world and the way we interact in it and with each other. And listening to him made me just a little nostalgic too. Not about the bars, although I probably saw a few of those. It reminded me of the times I would curl up in my big chair with books by scholars like Neil Postman and Sherry Turkle who understood that technology is a “Faustian Bargain” (Postman, Technopoly, 1992) and that being together online also meant that you were painfully alone in your room (Turkle, Alone Together, 2011).

So maybe there is a shallow part to this blog. Because this is where I’m going to say “we told you so”. At a Pecha Kucha presentation in 2011. Not to mention a keynote in St. Louis. That’s right. Just short of 15 years ago my colleague Wade (iykyk) and I got up on the stage and much to the chagrin of some in the audience, we talked about how the internet was changing our language, our interactions and our lives. How as we redefine our words we also change our understanding of our world. Think about it. There was a time where community meant attending your place of worship, being active at the PTA, or joining friends for a drink where “everyone knows your name”. But now with all of our social media, you can join an online community where not only do the members not necessarily know your name, they might not even know you are there. Your “network” consists of hundreds, if not thousands of followers on LinkedIn or X (well hopefully not there anymore). Most likely these are people you wouldn’t recognize if you fell over them. And because of Facebook you can have hundreds, if not thousands of “friends”, many of which you wouldn’t even like if you actually got to know them. Which is fine because all you have to do is “unfriend” them.

As I recall, Wade and I spent quite a lot of time thinking and talking about all of this and while we knew our sphere of influence was rather limited, we had hope.  We figured that by understanding the impact of technology on our society, by being conscious and deliberate people (that’s all of us) could drive the use of technology rather than being driven by it. That we could play an active role in what could be. We could shape a future in a world that was congruent with our vision for humanity. And we could realize that while we can have 4000 friends on Facebook, we don’t have to. Sadly, it seems, we were wrong. I know this because 15 years later Michael Smerconish is talking about the same thing as he demonstrates how our lack of connection has impacted us socially, economically and politically. His suggestion for the best way out of this quagmire we find ourselves in? Mingling. Start seeing people in person again. Get back to the bar even though I can guarantee you the beer is no longer 7 for a dollar and most likely non-alcoholic. But go anyway. Maybe don’t ask the bartender to dance on the tables. But go. To the library, the community hall, your local cafe. Anywhere other people go too. Who knows? He could be right. At this point, it can’t hurt to give it a try.