Facebook or Face-to-Face?

(originally published as a “Scholarly Musing” Constant Contact email for NBSI)

Due to some recent blood work that indicated I was heading in the direction of diabetes, a nutritionist put me on a 3-month meal plan to “reset” my insulin. Without going into great detail, I appreciate the “good sense” of this plan because in the 2.5 weeks I’ve been on it, I haven’t felt deprived. In the past, I’ve tried various diets where the “no-no” list was so drastic it overwhelmed most of my waking thoughts to the point where I’d ultimately go overboard with everything else. I’d feel deprived of  … something  (food? calories? fats?) so I’d desperately try to fill that void with anything, even though on some level I knew those substitutes were ultimately “empty calories.” Oh, they might have temporarily satisfied my addictive cravings for sugar, salt and fat but they hadn’t nourished me in a healthy way. In fact, they’d only tended to create ever-stronger cravings, usually for the very things that weren’t capable of truly sating my appetite. 

It’s kind of like the proverbial castaway stuck on a little lifeboat in the middle of the ocean with no provisions. She’s dying of thirst and surrounded by water … water that would do no good to drink. But she’s REALLY thirsty. Maybe just a little water … so she takes a sip, and the cool wetness is so refreshing she’s able to overlook the salty taste. And because she is so parched, perhaps it even satisfies her … temporarily. But before long, due to the salt content in the water, she realizes she’s now even more thirsty than before. She knows she shouldn’t drink the water, that it’s not really going to help fill the “void” inside, but she just can’t help herself. So, she again laps up the ocean water, making her thirst even more ravenous … and on and on it goes. You see the problem; it’s a frantic, unfulfilling spiral.

This “drinking the ocean” metaphor is one I’ve used for years now to describe what I see as the potential downside of modern technology, social media in particular. And studies have started to be published now that, in one way or another, verify that premise. One of the most intriguing is the work done by MIT professor Sherry Turkle. She’s written a number of books over the last several decades based on research she’s done exploring the connection between technology and humanity. In the early days, her conclusions were much more celebratory and embracing of the inherent potential ever-advancing technology promised. (She was, after all, situated at the Massachusetts Institute of TECHNOLOGY, the very “belly of the beast,” so to speak!) 

Her continued research over the years, however, has revealed that too much of a good thing has become a bad thing. A couple of decades ago, we plugged in but then we unplugged. Not so anymore. We stay plugged in for most of our waking hours now. And this new behavior has consequences. Her most recent book, Alone Together, is a cautionary tale. Interviews she has conducted with hundreds of people (of all ages and demographics) indicate a growing population that has lost the ability to be truly intimate (sleeping with your laptop, iPad or cell phone doesn’t count!), beginning with our lack of conversation skills (and by this she means eyeball-to-eyeball conversations). 

And yet we hate being alone. So we reach out—via texts, tweets, and emails—in an attempt to fill that void we feel inside, but ultimately it’s only a temporary fix … at best. We think we’re connecting, and on one level we are, but it’s not the kind of connection that a living, breathing human really craves—or needs—to thrive. So, our thirst for intimacy drives us back for more (technological) connections, which ultimately fail to truly satisfy our needs, which then tempts us back for even more technological companionship, which … you see the problem. It’s drinking the ocean all over again. [You can view her TED talk on the subject here: http://www.ted.com/talks/sherry_turkle_alone_together.html]

Turkle is not saying technology is evil nor is she advocating that we not use it. I’m not either. Heck, I LOVE my smartphone, and having information about anything at my fingertips, and the ability to Skype with loved ones miles, states, or an ocean away. I even devoted three years of my life to obtaining a doctorate that largely focused on communicating in a digital age. So, I’m no Luddite. I think this is a really exciting time to be alive! AND … we need to proceed cautiously, with our eyes wide open, fully conscious and aware of the seductive, addictive, and “empty caloric” qualities of technology that tempt us at every turn. For instance, we should recognize as a problem the phenomenon of being in the presence of an actual person but feeling the need to “converse” via text with someone who isn’t there. [This and other new “realities” were explored recently in a fascinating experiment at Towson University where students were asked to give up their cell phones for 4 hours—just 4 hours!—and then reflect upon the experience. Read about their anxiety, anger and fear here: http://magazine.towson.edu/?p=598.]

Turkle observes that technology has begun to change not only our behavior, it’s changed who we are. I’ve noticed that with myself. Back in the days before answering machines, the phone would ring and I’d experience a little surge of excitement. Yes, sometimes the caller was someone I didn’t particularly want to talk to but on the whole, as an extrovert living alone, the chance to connect with another person thrilled me. When answering machines first came out this seemed even better because you never had to miss someone’s efforts to reach out to you. But it wasn’t long before I learned that I could now screen my calls. I could sit right next to the ringing phone and not pick up until I heard the voice leaving a message and if it were someone I was willing to talk to, I’d quickly answer the phone and make an excuse (“Uh … I was in the bathroom!”) for why I hadn’t picked up sooner. 

If it was someone I didn’t want to talk to, however, I now had the luxury of postponing the voice-to-voice encounter. And when I did return the call, I often found myself hoping that they wouldn’t even be home so I could simply leave the needed information on their answering machine, avoiding conversation altogether. Better yet, in a year or so, I had email capabilities so even if someone initially called me, leaving a message, I could respond through email, eliminating the chance that they might be home and I’d have to talk with them if I called. Now, my smartphone identifies the caller on the first ring, making it even easier to screen my calls, which I find myself doing more and more (even with people I like!). What’s more, texting questions and information has pretty much become my default mode of communication now because talking on the phone is so … involved. 

What’s happened to me? I’m still an extrovert living alone but the thrill of getting a phone call has been replaced by annoyance and an almost “avoid voice-to-voice connection at all costs” mentality. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to be an extrovert! And, for me, that’s almost like forgetting how to be human.

Speaking of which, it should really come as no surprise that callous, and sometimes even inhumane (i.e. cyber bullying), behavior has thrived with advances in technological communication. Peruse most any website that offers a “Comments,” “Feedback,” or “Review” section and it won’t be long before you find the “conversation” devolving into catty remarks, at best, and sometimes downright abusive and completely inappropriate comments at worst. Even this phenomenon, Online Disinhibition Effect, has been studied (and has its own Wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Online_disinhibition_effect). The basic premise is that it’s safer to be mean from a distance. According to the site: “The general feeling is that the average internet user would not make such comments or behave in such ways if not for the invisible smokescreen that online usernames and anonymity provide. According to Norman H. Holland, “people regress,” when communicating online, because, among other reasons, the physical distance from other users and the inability to interpret body language and physical reactions results in a lack of direct feedback.”

A good friend of mine (we’ll call her Evelyn) recently got bullied on Facebook. A pretty minor misunderstanding had occurred at work with a co-worker (we’ll call her Melinda). As far as Evelyn was concerned, it was over and done with once she left the office. Imagine her surprise—and horror—therefore, when she realized it was far from over. Not being on Facebook herself, it was a different co-worker who mentioned to her that Melinda had vented about the incident on her Facebook page and it had taken on a life of its own with people not connected at all with the incident making extremely troubling, inappropriate and slanderous judgments on Evelyn, and Melinda allowing it to continue. 

I won’t go into all the sordid details here but, other than the fact that Evelyn felt like she was reliving junior high (not a pleasant experience for most!), her main take away from it all was how easy (and potentially toxic and dangerous) it is to bully from a distance. If Melinda had been forced to confront Evelyn face-to-face with her concerns, they probably could have had a civil conversation about it and worked through this minor issue like adults. But by going home and blurting out her unease on Facebook, she took Evelyn—the one and only person who should have been in the conversation—out of the conversation, resulting in the creation of a ridiculous situation that went up the chain of command to the VP of the department.

Currently one of my favorite comedians is Louis C.K. Yes, he frequently drops the “f” bomb and for some reason feels the need to mention masturbation an awful lot (as Maggie Smith’s character, The Dowager Countess, once said on Downton Abbey, “Vulgarity is no substitute for wit.”) but if you can get past that, he’s truly a modern-day prophet. If you’re not familiar with him, I highly recommend you take time to sit in front of the computer (yes, I’m aware of the irony!) and watch some of his work. Here is one that directly applies (the first 53 seconds, anyway) to the face-to-face bullying explored above:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HbYScltf1c

We’re getting ready to begin a new liturgical year. It’s the season where we anticipate the coming of the Prince of Peace. That’s one of the ways we refer to Jesus … but I wonder how much weight that moniker holds in comparison to the many other titles we use for him? As someone who frequently wears peace sign earrings, I at least try to give more than lip service to this understanding of Jesus. So, I actually think a lot about war and conflict (thus, the reflections on bullying above). 

Have you ever thought about how the tactics of war have changed over the millennia, and how they’ve developed exponentially in the last century? Back when our only real weapons were clubs, sharp rocks and our own fists, we basically had to get close enough to see the “whites of the eyes” of our enemy to do any harm. Now this obviously didn’t stop people from being barbaric, but it took a lot more warm bodies to make an impact that way. And I have to think that the residual effect on those who survived was much more gruesome because actually seeing, hearing, touching and smelling the people they killed made the experience way more “up close and personal.” Only the strongest (or most warped!) of constitutions wouldn’t be affected by that.

The advent of arrows, guns, and cannons allowed for a little more distance, so the killing wasn’t quite as personal, and it also increased the potential safety of the perpetrator. Armored tanks, rocket launchers and bombers increased this distance (both geographic and interpersonal) even more. And now we’ve got unmanned drones and missile silos that can hit targets a continent away from the comfort, safety and personally-removed setting of an office. A single person can now wreak much more havoc on a substantially larger population than back when fighting was closer to a 1:1 ratio. This is not to imply that the people pushing those buttons aren’t bothered by the death and destruction they inflict but I’m guessing that’s easier to deal with than hand-to-hand combat. Like Louis C.K. says, (while clutching his stomach as if it aches), “Ooh … that doesn’t feel good to make a person [hurt … by the insult I’ve just said directly to their face].” But when the insult is delivered from the safety of distant where I can’t see the impact of the pain I’m inflicting then the experience is more, “Mmmm … that was fun; I liked that!” (while rubbing his belly as if he’s just eaten a tasty meal).

Deaths due to cyber bullying aside, I’m not trying to equate social media with war. But I do find it interesting that there seems to be a parallel between armed conflict and Internet conflict regarding the increased ease involved in inflicting harm the larger the distance from face-to-face interaction. Please understand: I’m not saying that technology is evil. I just think we need to proceed cautiously and intentionally, not indiscriminately “drinking the Kool-Aid” of each new development simply because it’s available and we can. I would encourage this sort of restraint for anyone, about anything, just because it makes sense for maintaining sanity in the midst of any potentially overwhelming force in life. But I think it’s particularly crucial for Christian storytellers. 

Why Christians? Because of the Incarnation. 

Christmas and Epiphany are about nothing if not the recognition and celebration of God choosing to become human so as to do away with interpersonal distance and meet us face-to-face … literally. Emmanuel—God with us—literally! Because of that, we were shown how to lovingly, compassionately, intimately be in relationship with each other … face-to-face; how to resolve conflict … face-to-face; and how to grieve when our face-to-face interactions led to harm, pain ,or death of another. This sort of intimacy is difficult; it takes time and requires work (much more work, for instance, than the quick, unthinking, responsibility-free click of a button to “like” someone).

Why storytellers? Because storytellers need an audience … literally. In a true storytelling experience, the audience helps to co-create the story. A good teller is constantly picking up on the messages (usually non-verbal, but not always!) the audience is sending back in response to what’s been told so far and adjusting the ensuing telling accordingly. In addition, thanks to the storyteller’s use of eye contact, the audience becomes the various characters in the story, allowing for relationship to happen. Eye contact is intimate; so is storytelling. Watching a video of someone telling a story is OK but it doesn’t come close to the face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, intimate two-way street relationship that is the art of storytelling. 

In a similar vein, with the possible exception of something like Skype, the ever-growing technological temptation is to fool ourselves into thinking we’re truly experiencing life (and relationship and intimacy) through a screen. Again, words of wisdom from Louis C.K.: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSSDeesUUsU

Can technology do amazing things? Of course. Can social media help us find and stay linked with people we might not otherwise? Of Course! If I had the opportunity to go back in time would I choose, instead, to stay right here in 2013 and take advantage of everything the world—including technology—has to offer? OF COURSE!! But maybe* … that doesn’t negate the fact that “All that glitters is not gold.” Maybe … just like with most everything in life, technology should be used in moderation with us controlling it rather than it controlling us. Maybe … if Jesus returned to earth—while he might have a Facebook page and Twitter feed—he’d still prefer interacting with people face-to-face. 

During this season of joy and stress, of anticipation and exhaustion, we biblical storytellers should be more intentional about stepping away from the addictive, impersonal, time-consuming, “empty caloric” screen and making face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball contact with other living, breathing human beings. Each year at this time we raise our expectations for Emmanuel—God with us—to literally, physically, be among us again. Until that happens, however, we are Christ’s body in this world, not a virtual, cyber or avatar body but an actual, real, physical body. As Teresa of Avila said:

 “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”

Here’s to a season of real connection, intimacy and relationship, doing what we can to bring about actual Emmanuel— God (truly!) WITH us.

Tracy is dean of the Academy for Biblical Storytelling, a member of the Network of Biblical Storytellers Scholars’ Seminar and adjunct professor at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, DC and the Ecumenical Institute of Theology in Baltimore.

More food for thought on the ideas presented in this essay:

http://www.ginferrara.com/projects/media-free-week/

http://www.tokensshow.com/disp-054-arthur-boers-interview/

http://blog.sfgate.com/morford/2013/09/24/louis-ck-and-the-bawdy-mystic/
* This “of course, but maybe” concept is another brilliant piece by Louis C.K.: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkjmzEEQUlE