Capital Networking

I read an article the other day about Social Capital and social networking. I'd reproduce it here if only I could remember where I'd got it from, but I can't, and so I won't. To some extent, the whole thing made me shudder a little, reminding me of windowless, basement classrooms and monotonal lecturers droning on about social capital, in spurious connection with some tedious passage of Edith Wharton or some other cheerless tract. On the other, it set my mind wandering to my own increasingly and persistently paranoid use of the internet. You see, in between occasional references to De Tocqueville (a sort of gently firm reminder that the author knew what she was talking about) she asserted that social networks are basically jolly good, because they allow us to connect in lots of ways with lots more people, which in turn leads to lots of nice reciprocal behaviour (chatting, "liking", commenting, sharing pictures et cetera) whilst we all bond over shared interests and ideals. She also reckons we're all more confident online, can create online personas etc and present the people we would like to be to the outside world. She's probably right.

I'm not going to talk about social capital. For one thing, this is a blog and not an academic essay; I shall probably get it wrong, and there are people who read this blog who will take pleasure in mocking me for my idiocy. And that is the crux of what I AM going to write about: social media and increased online presence may well have all the positive benefits and happy outcomes beloved of the (slightly smug) columnist, but they in turn come with downsides. Aside from the ever-present danger of being sued (remember this?) there is an ever-present chance/fear of being humiliated, ridiculed, rejected, and simply ignored. In short, the likes of Facebook and Twitter expose one constantly to the threat of public failure.

One good example is the relative ease to humilate people in front of an audience. Social networking sites and even emails are informal yet safely distant. There's no chance the person you're mocking will burst into tears in front of you, or give you the good slap you might well deserve. Even if they retaliate, it's erasable at the touch of a button. In this sense we all have more power than perhaps we can really handle. In turn, it's so instant that it's easy to tap in something without really thinking it over first. Last term a colleague of mine sent a "reply all" email to the whole of our team putting me well and truly in my place (I won't go into the reasons why, which are relatively dull, not to say innocuous). Everyone I know seems to have an example of this happening in a work context: in another instance, a relatively senior staff member sent an email to a friend of mine telling her she had done her job incorrectly. Among the host of people she had copied into this correspondance (and to whom, for the most part, the matter was wholly irrelevant) was my friend's boss. When it turned out that actually the person who'd sent the email was wrong, and not my friend, she sent a terse yet private email to my friend which basically said "You were right after all". She did not, as I believe she should have done, send an email to the various senior people involved the first time around apologising. Ultimately, she could have been accused of trying to destroy my friend's reputation. In fact, Unison now lists copying people into emails in this way as a form of bullying. In my case, I went home, fretted, and sobbed a little on my long-suffering husband. My colleague was probably oblivious to this, and probably didn't intend this to be the outcome, her email most likely being no more than a little strop at the end of a busy day.

And so to Facebook. My husband thinks I am becoming obsessed with the internet, in fact, I am rather constantly afraid of my presence on it backfiring on me. I will readily admit I'm a sensitive person, and take things to heart that should really be shrugged off, and yet I was hurt when a friend mocked me the other day for misunderstanding a joke someone had made, the implication being that I was a bit slow on the uptake. Another friend replied, himself laughing at my stupdity. When I finally rejoined the fray and wrote "aw not fair, you're all teasing me now *goes and hides under rock and cries*" both "Liked" the comment, presumably assuming I too was laughing at myself, and not slowly tearing myself to pieces.

I am, more worryingly, increasingly agonising about how I come across, convincing myself in my more anxious moments that many people simply humour me, and secretly think I'm a complete idiot, bordering on a nuisance that they'd like to shake off if only they could. I worry about why someone likes all the posts everyone else puts on their wall, but not mine; I feel almost offended when I comment on a thread and people reply to all the other posts but seem to be tactfully ignoring mine; I feel pretty peeved when I message someone and they never reply, particularly if I've gone out of my way to say or send something nice or personal to them; I live in terror that someone will expose something I've said or done somewhere public, even though I can't honestly think of anything worth exposing.

In short, social networking and accompanying media have probably not had much of an impact on me in terms of social capital (unless joining a Dean Windass support page and setting up a new Bradford City page which hardly anyone has joined counts) but it has served to emphasise some of the worst and most niggling aspects of self-obsession, introspection and even paranoia.

And now, of course, I'm going to post this and, in doing so, throw myself to the proverbial lions, rendering all I've said above somewhat ironic. So while I go and wring my hands and fret myself into oblivion over yet another Facebook chat which clearly has far more significance for me than for the person with whom I'm chatting I shall leave you with this last intellectual thought: Social Capital my arse.