The public-private line has blurred with an explosion in technology that allows everyone so inclined to be the protagonist or antihero of their own self-created  drama.   It is wonderful and horrible, our new ability to make an electronic version of ourselves available worldwide at any time.   Science fiction.  

And like the best science fiction, it raises moral and ethical questions.   Like exploring the decent boundaries of on-line candor and respect for the privacy of others.

Many of these billions of daily posts are ethically neutral, avatars showing photographs of their lunch, or today’s design in their latte, or pictures taken from the end of their own arms, lips pursed, eyebrow raised, shirt undone.   Timeless rules still apply, provocative photos of beautiful people will always be viewed many more times than the same photos of ordinary looking people.  Things become more complicated with the on-line writings of strangers and people that we know.

From time to time you come across something that really moves or entertains you and think “fuck, this person ought to…”.   What ought this person do?   Have 100,000 followers giving a penny for the blogger’s thoughts every day?  More acclaim from fellow bloggers?  There was not even a word the equivalent of “blogger” until very recently, but like all ubiquitous things, it’s hard to imagine a time without what exists now.  It’s not even an exercise worth much effort.

The unmediated creation of public utterances can lead to hurt feelings.  A celebrity tweets an honest reaction their publicists will earn their money walking back.  A joke comes off as hate speech.  I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if… I try to be a role model… I…  The essence of wit is quickness, a blessing or curse when such things can be sent around the world with a click, without the timing or the wink to insure its proper effect.  

A writer putting out a book, or pounding out a column, would have an editor or publisher who might say “uh, Dave, are you sure you really want to say that about angry people on hair triggers who love guns?”  On-line, on his own weblog, amused at how well he’s made his point, Dave just hits “publish” while still chuckling.  The angry gun lover on a hair-trigger might turn out to be the neighbor in the next apartment who hates the sound of Dave laughing loudly to himself early every morning while writing the posts Dave himself finds so hilarious.  Googling his annoying neighbor he finds Dave’s blog and hurries over, not to congratulate him.  Not so funny, Dave, is it, coming loudly through the bedroom wall when I’m trying to sleep, grinding my teeth with this glock under my pillow, asshole… not quite so adorably witty now, are we?

I am thinking about this privacy business (having refrained from using the word “I” for as long as he could) in connection with something I posted here the other day that is easily seen as an extended self-righteous exercise in publicly airing very soiled laundry.  I thought of it at the time (and much of it still is) as an exercise in laying out several complicated and important lessons I’ve learned recently (and I will pluck those out and distill them for a future post).  Using a hypothetical example from my life, clearly identifiable as a real person, and close friend, however, has the potential to cause hurt and trouble.  Why would anyone but a person not clearly thinking things through risk causing such harm?   A hasty word, like an arrow let loose from the bow, can never be taken back.

“What are you, a fucking detached philosopher living in an extended thought experiment in your own universe of perfect forms?” a friend might ask, “how did you expect her to react, you pathetic, self-absorbed, fucking wannabe wise man?   How wise is someone who embarrasses someone like that in a public forum, even if that public is only a handful of people?  Anyone in the world can read that shit, forward it to anyone else.  I could send her the link while we’re talking right now, from my phone.  And how, reading it, could she not be mortified?  Don’t you think she’s already feeling a little guilty about having promised and failed to help several times running?  You alluded to her pang yourself. You may be irrefutably right in every particular, and wording everything very gently, but you’re wrong to post it publicly.”  

“She has her own compelling version of this story too, don’t forget, and she can justify everything  — you don’t sleep normal hours, don’t knock on doors every day, do nothing to help yourself, don’t follow through on anything, live mainly in your own head, expect others to do heroic work in service of your saintly mission when you yourself mostly dream of the blessed work you’d be honored to do someday when the time is right.  Do you think someone like you is easy to work with?”  

“Yes, you see yourself as a selfless servant with a noble vision, but what do you actually do in the world, besides sit in judgment of people busy accomplishing things?  Sit in judgment in your underwear, mind you, in the middle of the afternoon or the godforsaken hours of the early morning, when it’s dark outside.  At least put on a pair of goddamn pants when you sit in judgment of us, man.” 

Fair points all, if a tad brutal in their one-sidedness.  If you would live by “first, do no harm”, the next thing would be to delete that post.  Outside of the unintended irony of making a long and detailed case against someone who loves you in order to demonstrate that it is better to be soft-spoken and forgiving, even to an asshole, what good purpose could it possibly serve?  You may whisper your irrefutable indictment of an old friend softly, but it’s no less damning for the gentle delivery, and perhaps much more damning.