Breaking up is hard to do

For quite some time now I've been thinking that it's time for us to call it quits, but I kept pushing the thought away. After all we've been together a long time--about 10 years now. And like so many long-term couples, I've grown accustomed to your features, you almost make the day begin.

I found you as I was getting ready to leave Japan and return to live in the US. You were like a lifeline to my past and bridge to my future. You helped me find others from my past--old friends and former colleagues and students--in this world of lost emails and phone numbers. When I made new friends, you were involved then too. Over time, you took on even more roles. You became my de facto social secretary. You gave me a nudge when friends were having a birthday, kept me current with births, marriages and deaths, the slow but sure growth of friends' children, reminded me of upcoming events I was interested in, helped me stay current with favorite groups and organizations, amused me when all I really needed that day was a funny cat or dog video. You made life not only more efficient and organized but interesting as well. I came to rely on you for news stories too, via links posted by friends. And you didn't charge me a cent! I thank you for that, I really do. I'm going to miss all of those things, truly.

Things have changed, though. The first time I really understood that there was a price to be paid for all of this service. You had sold my data to third parties without my knowledge. And even worse, it became apparent that your lax controls had allowed bad actors to influence the 2016 U.S. presidential election, leading to an unexpected outcome, tragic for me and so many others. Earlier this year, your chief representative Mark Zuckerberg, apologized to Congress. He promised to do better. He said his team had been "slow" to see the threats and was now taking steps to remedy problems. I believed you, perhaps mostly because I wanted to. I rationalized it all by saying that there are no secrets that can't be found on the Internet, regardless of whether one was partnered with you or not.

Then last week--another jolt. I watched the two-part Frontline program, The Facebook Dilemma. It was then that I realized that "slow" was a euphemism for "refused to listen". People in the Middle East, The Philippines, The Ukraine, and Myanmar, had tried to tell you--repeatedly. Tried to tell you that fake accounts were flooding users' pages, exploiting fears, and the worst elements of tribalism. People died because of this. You could even say it led to genocide and the subversion of peoples' movements for justice.

Were any significant controls attempted during those years, Mark? That's unclear from the program, but what is clear is that the problems continue. Steps have been taken, I learned. More checkers around the globe, fluent in local languages, for example. Yet, chillingly, one of your current representatives said flatly that the problem cannot be solved, not at the scale your organization operates. It can only be contained.

In all fairness, I have to look at my own role in this relationship--my readiness to take shortcuts. I've been spending way too much time scrolling through stories--stories I usually soon forget because there are so many. Some say you designed it this way as an addictive process. But I'll let that go for now, as this paragraph is about me. The fact is I willingly let you take charge of things for me, and now I'm about to be on my own again. I'm looking forward to that, actually. To making better connections with friends--beyond "like" or "sad" or "angry". I plan to reactivate this blog, dormant since January, as a place for exploring ideas and sharing stories about my past, present and future. I hope any of you who wish to connect with me this way will subscribe or check in from time to time. You can use this encrypted link: https://kathyintransition.blogspot.com.

As for Facebook, I'll keep my account open for awhile. You, my friends, can send a personal message about the best way to stay in touch with you, if you wish. At some point, I plan to deactivate and then delete the account. Apparently the latter is not easy to do. (For a step-by-step guide, go to this link.)

I look forward to keeping in touch with you, my Facebook friends--and to doing something interesting with the 10+ hours I formerly spent every week scrolling through the Facebook screen.