For 14 years, our generation has stuck with Facebook: invested our hearts and souls in it–while younger generations have largely bailed. For many of us as we’ve aged, Facebook has increasingly become a lifeline to the world. At a stage in our lives when our work and social communities are dissipating and our influencer networks thinning, Facebook is for many the last place we can go to stay connected, to be liked, to be visible, to have a voice. And, too, there’s the sad fact that we entrusted Facebook with so many precious memories that it now holds in its firm grip. Our happiest moments, the graduations of our children and births of our grandchildren, our favorite trips, our old friends—so many of whom are gone. No generation has more to lose than ours should we conclude that with the latest onslaught of nefarious headlines, it’s time to disengage.
When I launched this iteration of my blog a little over a year ago, just following the 2016 election, I understood that the moral landscape had been altered irrevocably, and that there would be occasions to which we would have to arise, sacrifices to be made. Habits that once offered comfortable places to hide would need to be confronted. Inconvenient emotions and intuitions would need to be heeded. And if we succeeded in this, we would be able invest our vital energy into setting things right.
After a year of looking the other way in regards to Facebook and the role they played in the election and other critical world events—not to mention their violation of our individual right to privacy–I am struggling with whether or not to make a heart-rending sacrifice. By the end of this week, I will have decided whether to disable my account—or on the other hand, asking for and incorporating your feedback, I hope to have made at least wary peace with the keeper of so much of my electronic life.
But this blog is not really about Facebook. It’s about how we are to live our lives in these perilous times. For anyone who watches the nightly news, we know that Facebook is just the tip of the iceberg. Our government is flawed to the core, but we still pay our taxes and depend on public transportation. Religious institutions have let us down, from pedophilia to hypocrisy, but many of us still go to church. We want to live moral lives—to walk our talk—but where and how do we draw the line in the sand and still be part of the real world? If we withdraw from Facebook, do we cede our ability to use our voices to make a difference that much more? Do we collude in marginalizing and silencing ourselves at a time when our world needs its wise elders more than ever?
My more mystical friends say it’s all an illusion anyway, and some of them have succeeded in severing ties to the corrupt world on as many levels as possible. But have they merely traded discomfort for complacency? Confused denial with transcendence? Lest they live in close proximity to a pure, fresh-running stream, are they not, too, depending on the local utility to keep their tap water flowing—the same utility that may or may not have looked the other way while lead numbers to the inner city rose? Don’t we have a responsibility to stay engaged?
Some days, all I have to help me cope is my moral outrage. I am outraged that somewhere high up in the silicon towers of Facebook, decisions have been made that give human beings what we need most: a sense of belonging, affirmation and at least the appearance of a voice. Who knew they were all the time simultaneously allowing the system to keep track of every opinion, every like, every indication that we suffered from a particular physical or psychological challenge? A broken heart? The death of a spouse? Loneliness? They give us videos of frolicking baby elephants so cute they make us go weak in the knees—and then they turn us, elephants and all, over into the care of forces who would exploit these very same vulnerabilities, that which is most intimate, most human, for their own ugly purposes. Has everything I’ve loved about my Facebook been little more than a Trojan Horse? How could it be that all along, hidden beneath its beguiling surface, has been the exploitation and manipulation of that which we hold most dear for ends diametrically opposed to our own values and sense of decency?
I believe I am willing to make sacrifices for the greater good—and for the sake of my own self-respect—but give up Facebook? Do I need to wait until Facebook more adequately pleads its case? Pray that justice—the stock market and government oversite committiees-will run their course? Are there ways in which I can use my Facebook presence to do greater good in the long run than to make a point? Meanwhile, do I learn how to live with imperfection—my own as well as society’s—weighing the costs and making the best, if flawed, choices possible? Or is it time for me—for us—to Face(book) the music?
TO COMMENT: Please share your thoughts with me about this blog in the comment section below as it is posted at CarolOrsborn.com.
I will make my decision by Friday and will post it on my Facebook Fierce with Age Fan page.
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