A feature of old-stick-in-the-mud-ism is to deplore what the world is coming to.
The world has come to social media. I don't deplore it. It's a wonderful thing, to join the ambient reality of another human being's experience of life, to have immediate access to their insights and perceptions, to invite them to join in yours. And I'm old enough to remember that prescient McLuhan phrase about a "global village."
Here we are.
One small problem: We the villagers have lost sight of a community's dearest value and commodity. We've forgotten what it means to be civil.
We use social media as a hedge to hide behind, to launch commentary that exalts those who agree with us, and shames or excoriates those who do not. It's easy to search and find punditry and stats that support our opinions; much harder to convene opposing viewpoints and agendas, and discern common ground.
Today, public discourse is more polarized and rancorous than most Baby Boomers have ever known, yet this democracy was based on our willingness and ability to hold public discourse, whether that occurred in a town square or a Facebook thread.
Without civility, we become not merely savage (eg, the bullying of bus monitor Karen Klein), but accepting of — and inured to — savagery. We adapt and learn to avoid those who disagree or challenge us, right when we could be learning from each other. We reTweet for respect because it's far easier to press the RT icon than to actually practice civility — day-to-day and face-to-face — with that colleague or neighbor who irks us because their beliefs run antithetical to our own.
Glibly we talk about love ("our hearts and prayers go out to..."), about coming together as an American family, and embrace each other at candelight vigils for the dead, but we won't afford each other the most common courtesies in the routine run of a day. (Or, as a friend of mine put it: "Given the guys I work with, sometimes it's like death by douchebag.")
Basic courtesy is a rational act of love — for yourself, your self-respect, as a functional villager. It's an act of love for your fellow villager, your family, your community. So while reTweeting for respect and sharing anti-violence memes on Facebook, why not ramp up a couple other actions?
Hold the door open for someone else. Give up your seat on the subway to someone who maybe needs it more. Don't walk away from the copier with the paper jam you just caused. React to inflammatory behaviors with restraint, not insult or denigration. Understand that someone who disagrees with your opinion likely has an intensely personal experience of the same issue — and that is worth respecting. Choose not to shun, goad, provoke, or even to raise your voice. Articulate your disagreement not with name-calling, but with facts, figures, compassion, and a desire to learn more. If you're active on social media, curate diverse points of view, not merely rallying those who agree with you. Become the example, because we really need good leaders right now.
It takes nothing to be kind. The alternative is far more costly: if July 20 in Aurora, Colorado, taught us anything, it's that the ultimate WMD may be a single human being, existing in isolation, fully alive only when online, twisted by rage and illness.
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