Insecure Communications

I read this article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/31/opinion/roger-cohen-the-discretion-of-nicholas-winton.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur&bicmp=AD&bicmlukp=WT.mc_id&bicmst=1409232722000&bicmet=1419773522000&_r=0
in praise of Sir Nicholas Winton, a man who quietly saved hundreds of children from death but never boasted about it. The article notes that this was standard for his age, and that our modern society struggles to comprehend his action, because we live in a world where people self-promote or perish, and communication is easy and expected.
As the article notes, this is a very new thing. Modern communications technology has only emerged in the last couple of decades. It has certainly been possible to send messages instantaneously around the world for over a century; the telephone is a relatively old invention, and the telegraph accomplished something similar before that. But modern communications has made us behave very differently with our instant communications; they are now almost free and readily accessible. That combines poorly with a dramatic shift in culture towards being open, unrestrained and emotionally disinhibited to the point that the boundary between self and other barely exists. We vocalise our every thought, and then have long arguments about why people are so offensive or whether something should have been said at all: the last rearguard action of the idea that perhaps people should think before sharing.
I realise that we could have a long discussion about the benefits and costs of sharing our feelings. Recent evidence has shown that encouraging people to open up about bad events and 'repressed' memories actually seems to cause more harm than good, and that this therapy was perhaps the brainchild of an especially extraverted psychologist who ignored the fact that most people need more privacy and have internal lives. I could admit that many relationships go awry because of poor communication, and that couples are often more forgiving of each other when each others' attitudes are fully explained and understood by both sides.
But I don't want to dredge up every point on either side. I think that if people started to discuss the value of  opening up that would be success enough, because it seems to me that it's highly affected by personality and culture. And not just by over-arching culture, but little sub-cultures, such as within a family or neighbourhood.
This matters a lot to me, because I was raised differently from my peers, and my inclination is not to leap enthusiastically onto new communication innovations, so I'm now even further behind in the 'progress' of modern communications. I was coaxed onto Facebook almost as soon as it was available by my girlfriend of the time, who had come over from the US and already knew of it, and I use Facebook quite a lot. But I use it from my computer, and I mostly share my thoughts on politics and economics, more akin to the subjects that would have been discussed in public 50 years ago, rather than sharing pictures of my dinners and fluffy animals as fleeting diversions.

Modern life revolves around not even Facebook any more, but more instantaneous messaging, such as Twitter, Snapchat and sundry others that I haven't even heard of yet. Communication happens constantly, from people's ever more powerful mobile phones; people walk the streets with their minds on their phones, people chat with their friends in person whilst also having their phone in one hand, keeping others involved at the same time. Should a friend disappear to the loo, the phone will take over for a blessed minute or two of escape from having to sit and think for a moment.
I understand that. I like to fill my time with what I enjoy. I plug myself into podcasts when walking to the supermarket, even though it's only a 5-10 minute walk. But I do miss the thinking time, and I know I'm missing it. Sometimes on journeys I do just sit for a while and let my mind wander; it's very relaxing, rather than focussing on this or that, be it a podcast or a text conversation.
Again, better-qualified people than me have noted that thinking time is beneficial. We use it to process tasks that we put away for another time; we rest and recuperate; we indulge in creativity; we let our minds wander and actually consider some of the things we've encountered, bringing more in-depth and critical thought to bear. The lack of these things can affect a whole society.
But yet again, I'll content myself with noting that this debate exists.

I want to discuss the difference between having the ability and having the obligation. I'm an introvert with a pleasant and extensive internal life. I enjoy talking to other people and I do quite a lot of it. But I grew up in a family where we adhered to some distinctly old-fashioned approaches to life. We mostly sat round the table for meals. I learned only to shake hands with someone the first time I met him or when concluding a business deal, not at every coming or going. My mother called her father once a week on Tuesdays and regarded that as a close relationship; just as I would save up the events of the school day and relate them all at once when I got home, so it was easy to save up the events of the week and discuss them all at once.
When I went away on trips, I took photos with a film camera and when I got back I'd tell my mother the highlights of my trip, but it would be a few days at best before I could show everyone any pictures, if they'd even come out nicely at all.
The pace of life was slower, and that's not necessarily a good thing. It would have been nice to take hundreds of photos, check that they were good when I was taking them, and upload them as soon as I came back so that we could all see them as I talked about things the first time. Although I remembered what I'd done and had a better grasp of the timings and over-arching narrative of my life because of the need to relate it later, freeing up that brain capacity for something else in life might be a good thing.
I only got a mobile phone when I went to university because the college didn't provide landlines in its accommodation and my mother wanted to stay in touch without me needing to waste lots of money on payphones. I only started using the internet when I went to university because we were a bit behind as a family and because I hadn't needed it; I saw my friends at school and arranged to see them at other times in person.
At university I started using e-mails more. Lots of important information was e-mailed and I had a computer in my room. I still met people in the common room and didn't quite understand how they managed to co-ordinate with each other so well. On the other hand it takes a moment to go to the common room, and I used it as a place to relax and meet people, and the few people who cared to meet me knew that they could find me there when I was free. Some people never went there and just met friends without ever getting to know the wider community. I found that a bit insular, and if a quiet person like me found it insular there's clearly something to discuss.
So it was that as everyone else leapt on the mobile phone bandwagon I somehow didn't even notice it passing. And now that everyone is starting to use e-mails again, only on their phones, I find I'm ahead of the pack, because I still use e-mails by spending a lot of time on my computers at home.

However, everyone else has grown up with instant communication at all times. My closest relationship was with my mother, with whom I'd talk once a week. Once a week is my standard; that's what we both found good for a person we loved enormously, found interesting and shared political and economic discussions with. People my age become anxious if they receive no message from a friend in a day or even less. People need instantly to share their emotions, via updates about their activities. If you're feeling good because you bought ice cream, you only feel great if you let everyone else know as well so that they can buoy you up. If you feel bad because you dropped your ice cream, the only way to deal with emotional blow is to seek the support of your friends at once.
It's an extravert's world in which emotions only have meaning when validated by others, and in which self-control and independence are lost. Resilience is achieved not through personal development, but through social networks. I understand that people have different levels of resilience, and not everyone can deal with every blow very well. I was glad of my family and friends when my mother died. I happened to get a call on my phone just a couple of minutes after I'd watched her breaths erratically fade to nothing, and the sequence of calls afterwards was heart-warming. But it was also tiring. I'm an introvert.
So of course as modern communications developed people used them to strengthen social networks and to seek and offer support. But no-one seems to have considered how much support we should outsource to the network. Resilience is something that needs to be practiced in order to develop. You don't magically become able to deal with shocks when they occur if a lost fingernail is a tragedy requiring external help. You don't learn to take pleasure in the simple beauty of things and of merely being alive if you can only conjure up a stunted seed of a positive emotion which needs the nurture of others to grow into something special.
I know that people have been insecure for a long time, and I know that 75% of the population (depending on the estimate) is extraverted. When you're insecure it's good to be able to get validation. It's good to get instant gratification without holding yourself in uncertainty for ages. When you have an insatiable need for more and more social contact you're going to take advantage of things that allow you that contact.
I personally don't think it's healthy. Mobile phones for some people are addictions, and people need the extravert's hit of as much social contact as possible, no matter the quality. It begins to eat into genuine interactions, as face-to-face conversations become only partial so that the participants can continue communicating to the many people who might be hooked on the other end of the invisible network. It's a burden of constant contact that insecure extraverts willingly take on. They no longer have to learn to deal with life or themselves. Whereas I deal with my emotions and the highs and lows of life, and might share them with someone I trust later on when it comes up, it seems that everyone else needs people available to support them on demand. That demand is tiring.
Modern technology has unleashed the built-up need for more and more communication, but not many people have considered whether there is an appropriate level of communication. I was happy with less, and when technology limited us all, I was relatively content. But now technology allows more, some people have raced away. They're entitled to do so, although as I've said I think it might well be unhealthy for them and for society more widely. But as they communicated more and more, people grew accustomed to it and came to expect it, and I resent that.
I don't need to chat all day every day; I don't want to start text conversations when doing something else, and I wouldn't want to even if I had a phone that worked well enough for it to be as fast as typing. Messages are for storing; conversations by voice are for instant communication. If actually talking seems to get things done too quickly, or peters out because there's nothing to say, then the conclusion is that we should stop and talk again later when we have something to say. The constant contact is a demand; it's an obligation to show that you're close to someone, and it's actually quite time-consuming. By failing to deal with life ourselves, and insisting that others are there all the time, we actually ensure that we become more insular at the same time as technology frees us up to be less insular. We're all so isolated in our social bubbles of demanding social engagement that we don't have time for looking out. And as more and more time is demanded by our 'friends', so those people on the outside get less and less.
Modern communications has allowed some people to achieve their dream of constant contact, even for no purpose. For me, communication needs to have purpose. I don't need to hear from people just to feel validated. I miss my friends because our conversations were interesting and I pick up where we left off without thought of how long any break might have been.
Other people seem to think that bonds fade and die if not constantly built. Maybe for them it's true, because they never learned to hold onto things, to remember conversations and interactions for later. But for me the friendships of my youth endure even with people I haven't seen, and will do even if I die without seeing them again. History doesn't change just because it's longer ago.

Modern society was amazed and impressed by Sir Nicholas Winton. He had the internal purpose and drive to do something good, and he knew it was the right thing even without anyone else knowing what he'd done. There is no doubt that when he thought of the lives he'd saved he knew he'd done the right thing... and that was enough. He was a man of principle who didn't need others to confirm his thoughts. He could think for himself.

And although I can only dream of having saved people's lives, I sometimes wish modern society would relate its respect for Sir Nicholas to its disdain for me and work out what it really feels. I have grown up in a different culture and I have different needs in life. A little bit of patience and tolerance would be lovely. Perhaps if I share this online with the social network I'll get it?