Address book beats Facebook every time (From Watford Observer)

Address book beats Facebook every time

2:06pm Monday 27th April 2009

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I have friend who is a whiz at Thai boxing. In fact, she’s so good at the sport that she’s even been told that she’s a possibility for a future British Olympic team.

I’ll just leave you to digest for a moment the fact that even a total sports-duffer like me can number a world-class athlete among the names in her address book, before continuing with a cautionary tale that illustrates why, when it comes to keeping in touch with your mates, something as prosaic as a good, old-fashioned address book beats Facebook hands down.

Returning to my Thai-boxing chum, whose story this is, I have to say that I’ve always thought there was something of the Marvel comic super heroine about Sarah. By day she’s a mild-mannered, softly-spoken employee of one of London’s most charming museums, by night she’s a whirling, gurning, bandana bound banshee, intent on knocking seven bells out of anyone unlucky enough to face her in the ring.

She’s always at great pains to point out that Thai boxing is an art form, more akin to ballet and chess than the brutal, muscle-bound contact sport that leaves contenders with cauliflower ears and wonky noses, but, having seen her in action, I have to say that she’s definitely my companion of choice when walking the mean streets of London after a late night out.

Her boyfriend, Joe, is another talented Thai boxer. He’s also a City banker so you’ll appreciate that just lately the ability to look after himself in a tight corner has come in rather handy.

A couple of weekends ago he was due to take part in an important qualifying fight and my loyal friend excitedly updated her Facebook page on the match morning with the following message: “Sarah knows her boy will be a winner.”

(I should explain that they are both in their late 20s and Facebook looms large in their social lives.)

A little later that morning, one of Sarah’s friends responded with a jokey message that read: “We all know your boy will be a winner, but what does Joe think?”

Now, you might think that this was nothing more than an innocuous and rather feeble gag, but unfortunately, as Sarah discovered, once something like this is posted online for all to see, it develops a life of its own.

Nothing travels faster than bad news, it seems. The internet wires of North London must have been red hot within minutes of that fateful posting as Sarah’s online ‘friends’ debated the true meaning of that second message.

Frankenstein’s Facebook sprang into life and by lunchtime Sarah’s mobile phone (which was turned off in her sports bag) harboured around 10 missed calls from ‘concerned’ friends wondering if she and Joe had split up, and, if so, who was the new mystery man?

Worse still, a couple of Joe’s friends, who were also linked into the site, took it upon themselves to call him and ask what was going on.

“I was furious”, said Sarah. “Luckily it was obviously rubbish, but I was really worried it would affect his fight.”

As it happened, it did indeed affect his fight in that that the bout had to be called off after two rounds when it became clear that Joe’s opponent couldn’t take any more therapeutic angry pummelling. Sarah’s ‘boy’ was indeed the winner.

The episode has had an interesting effect on my friend, who says she is now very wary about what she writes on her Facebook page. “The trouble is,” she explained, “I didn’t really appreciate that when you write something instantly online like that and leave it for all to see, anyone can reply. People reading that reply don’t necessarily know who it’s from. They can’t hear the voice or judge the tone of the words used and the whole thing can blow up into a huge misunderstanding.” She doesn’t blame her friend for those hasty, possibly ill-judged words, but she does feel uncomfortable that such a large number of other ‘friends’ were so quick and so blatantly happy to think the worst.

She is now considering closing her page - although I doubt that she will because Facebook seems to be strangely addictive to anyone under the age of about 35.

For me, the incident just underlined the way that these days the more ways we develop instant, easy, mechanical methods to communicate with each other the harder it is to hear to what people are saying.

Both Facebook and the even more mystifyingly pointless Twitter, are designed to allow people to tell the world what they are doing, without, it seems, ever really wanting to know very much about the world into which they send their great pronouncements.

It’s not really about social networking at all. In fact it’s more about seeing yourself as the hub of a universe that’s hanging on your every word. This is social engagement for the socially deluded.

Having viewed some tweets (I believe that is the correct terminology) on a friend’s gadget, I have to say that the average quality of self-obsessed soundbites flung into the ether by these pathetic Narcissistic souls, is some way below the conversational quality you’d expect from the average toddler.

“Kerry is feeling a bit peckish and is looking for a snacky” - is one astoundingly banal example.

So bl**dy what, Kerry? Why don’t you just go and buy a Mars bar instead of boring the world at large with your mid-morning sugar crisis? Or, better still, why don’t you do some actual work rather than fiddling incessantly with your mobile phone during office hours?

The bitter irony is that although we are all supposed to be connected with each other 24/7 in this brave new world, people have probably never been more isolated. You can kid yourself that you have 200 friends when you survey the rolling acres of your Facebook wall or pick up 20 tweets a minute on your mobile phone, but the harsh truth is that hiding behind a gadget and talking largely to yourself is never going to be a substitute for getting out into the real world and attempting to hold a fully formed conversation with someone who doesn’t need a battery recharger or modem to be switched on.

Just remember, Narcissus eventually became rooted to the spot as he leaned over that pool communing pointlessly with his own reflection. Perhaps in 400 years time the fate of the human race is to evolve into obesely immobile life forms welded to the spot in front of their computers as they twitter endlessly about themselves into a completely indifferent universe?