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Facebook and the End of the Masquerade
Jun. 15th, 2010 12:11 pmI've been dwelling over this perceived Facebook intrusion for some time. Just now, I realized that there's a historical analog to this privacy invasion -- the masquerade.
It's hard to imagine for you or I, I'm sure, the social pressures a truly hierarchical society must face just to maintain itself. In the Baroque Cycle, there's a great passage where the King of Russia visits his cousin in a nearby kingdom, but rather than trigger all the protocols a state visit would entail, he simply comes with a mask on and asks his queen cousin to introduce him to everyone by a pseudonym.
And everyone acknowledges him as such. Everyone in the story, each character, is quite aware they are talking to the King of Russia, that much is clear. But no one dare call lie to either the Queen -- their hostess -- or the King. They are, after all, royalty, and are entitled to a bit of privacy and calm.
That's when I finally got the importance of the masquerade, a dance where everyone comes masked. Sure, sure, people can pretend they don't know each other and have fun chatting with "total" strangers. But in all the movies where a masquerade was being held, the masks themselves where just covering for the eyes and not much else. Surely, I thought as a kid, no one is fooled by that flimsy pretense of a disguise. And no one can be truly surprised when midnight comes and traditionally everyone removes their masks.
But that's not the point.
In a monarchy of old, no one can just walk up to the King or the Queen or the Duke or whatever and just chat. It happens here, in this country, but not there. If, however, everyone pretends that everyone else is anonymous, then the monarchs might be able to break free of the protocols that, quite frankly, must make life pretty damned dull on a regular basis. They might be able to grab some ass and, with the facade in place, expect that their ass might be playfully grabbed in return.
That's why masks must be, no doubt, such a large part of the Mardi Gras tradition. I'm told that in most predominantly Catholic countries, just about every offense shy of murder and torture is forgiven during carnival. When masked, inhibitions should fall as quickly as the beads, lest one harbor regrets after Ash Wednesday that last all the way to Easter.
And that's what Facebook is doing so very wrong. By mining our hard drives and keystrokes, by peeking into our cookie cache and histories, they are trying to end the internet masquerade long before midnight. Since they can end privacy, they think that perhaps privacy should be ended. Heck, read some of the comments about the end of privacy the CEO has made:
No, that isn't what you are doing at all. You are "innovating and updating" to reflect what you assume the current norms are -- which is a flimsy projection of what you, Mr. Zuckerberg, wish those norms to be -- not what they actually are. You, someone who appears to be blind to privacy concerns shared by most of us on the planet, are letting the privacy-clueless shenanigans of teenagers and older nerds guide your unilateral decisions regarding the privacy default settings of adults, people who just want to dance and mingle on-line in anonymous peace.
To dredge up another analogy, think of most Westerners visiting places where nudity is common, like Japanese public baths. I believe the saying there goes along the lines of, "Nudity is seen, but not watched." I've been to nude baths and beaches, and have experienced the early dissonance, followed by an acceptance. Shouting, "Nice rack, grandma!" with a well-hooted "Woo!" goes over like the proverbial turd in the punchbowl.
Facebook, you are the turd in the punchbowl, the adolescent who pops wood on the nude beach, the chatterbox at the monastery during mass. It isn't twelve AM yet, Facebook, and if I get my druthers we will never hear on-line the chimes at midnight. Quit pretending to know what time it is.
It's hard to imagine for you or I, I'm sure, the social pressures a truly hierarchical society must face just to maintain itself. In the Baroque Cycle, there's a great passage where the King of Russia visits his cousin in a nearby kingdom, but rather than trigger all the protocols a state visit would entail, he simply comes with a mask on and asks his queen cousin to introduce him to everyone by a pseudonym.
And everyone acknowledges him as such. Everyone in the story, each character, is quite aware they are talking to the King of Russia, that much is clear. But no one dare call lie to either the Queen -- their hostess -- or the King. They are, after all, royalty, and are entitled to a bit of privacy and calm.
That's when I finally got the importance of the masquerade, a dance where everyone comes masked. Sure, sure, people can pretend they don't know each other and have fun chatting with "total" strangers. But in all the movies where a masquerade was being held, the masks themselves where just covering for the eyes and not much else. Surely, I thought as a kid, no one is fooled by that flimsy pretense of a disguise. And no one can be truly surprised when midnight comes and traditionally everyone removes their masks.
But that's not the point.
In a monarchy of old, no one can just walk up to the King or the Queen or the Duke or whatever and just chat. It happens here, in this country, but not there. If, however, everyone pretends that everyone else is anonymous, then the monarchs might be able to break free of the protocols that, quite frankly, must make life pretty damned dull on a regular basis. They might be able to grab some ass and, with the facade in place, expect that their ass might be playfully grabbed in return.
That's why masks must be, no doubt, such a large part of the Mardi Gras tradition. I'm told that in most predominantly Catholic countries, just about every offense shy of murder and torture is forgiven during carnival. When masked, inhibitions should fall as quickly as the beads, lest one harbor regrets after Ash Wednesday that last all the way to Easter.
And that's what Facebook is doing so very wrong. By mining our hard drives and keystrokes, by peeking into our cookie cache and histories, they are trying to end the internet masquerade long before midnight. Since they can end privacy, they think that perhaps privacy should be ended. Heck, read some of the comments about the end of privacy the CEO has made:
"It is interesting to looking back...when we got started just in my dorm room at Harvard, the question that a lot of people asked is why would I want to put any information on the Internet at all...people have really gotten comfortable not only sharing more information, and different kinds, but more openly with more people, and that social norm is just something that’s evolved over time," the CEO told the audience. "We view it as our role in the system to constantly be kind of innovating and updating what our system is to reflect what the current social norms are.”
No, that isn't what you are doing at all. You are "innovating and updating" to reflect what you assume the current norms are -- which is a flimsy projection of what you, Mr. Zuckerberg, wish those norms to be -- not what they actually are. You, someone who appears to be blind to privacy concerns shared by most of us on the planet, are letting the privacy-clueless shenanigans of teenagers and older nerds guide your unilateral decisions regarding the privacy default settings of adults, people who just want to dance and mingle on-line in anonymous peace.
To dredge up another analogy, think of most Westerners visiting places where nudity is common, like Japanese public baths. I believe the saying there goes along the lines of, "Nudity is seen, but not watched." I've been to nude baths and beaches, and have experienced the early dissonance, followed by an acceptance. Shouting, "Nice rack, grandma!" with a well-hooted "Woo!" goes over like the proverbial turd in the punchbowl.
Facebook, you are the turd in the punchbowl, the adolescent who pops wood on the nude beach, the chatterbox at the monastery during mass. It isn't twelve AM yet, Facebook, and if I get my druthers we will never hear on-line the chimes at midnight. Quit pretending to know what time it is.