It takes four seconds to hit the water after leaping from San Fransisco’s Golden Gate bridge. For many who take the leap of fate it is, as intended, the last four seconds of their lives. Few survive. One who did is Ken Baldwin, who jumped in 1985. He later recalled thinking during his four-second freefall that, 'I instantly realised that everything in my life I'd thought was unfixable was totally fixable--except for having just jumped.' Now, that is a statement for posterity. That is a statement for Facebook. And it now seems that posterity and Facebook may well be one in the same.
A NZ Herald report this morning says that by the end of the century there will be more dead people on Facebook than living. The Herald is reporting on a claim by University of Massachusetts statistician, Hachem Sadikki, who describes Facebook as the world’s largest digital graveyard. I have no way off disputing Mr Sadikki’s claim, so I accept it. However, initially it made me uncomfortable. I thought it morbid, possibly voyeuristic. But, then I thought: why not?Through Facebook we have the opportunity to leave a little piece of ourselves for posterity—for future generations; our children, their children and their children’s children. It is not morbid. It is a gift. And, after all, generations before us have left diaries for future generations.
Yes, Facebook is more complex than a diary, but even that has merit. Without diminishing the written diary, I feel Facebook provides a greater insight into our daily lives: who we engaged with, who were our “friends”, what we did, how we felt, how stupid (largely, our photos) we could be, what we enjoyed and what we hated. And if we start now with that thought, we can even leave our pithy little sayings to posterity—something I am now doing on Mr Baldwin’s behalf.
Facebook has a policy of not automatically deleting a dead person’s Facebook page. Nor should they. Surely that should be left to the family or friends of the deceased.
But what they (Facebook) can do is allow us to nominate a ‘legacy owner’ who is empowered to keep our Facebook page alive and refreshed long after we are dead—a living dead legacy. Future generations might even want to use the social media site to send back messages to long-dead generations.
The only problem I see with that, is if they get a reply.
A NZ Herald report this morning says that by the end of the century there will be more dead people on Facebook than living. The Herald is reporting on a claim by University of Massachusetts statistician, Hachem Sadikki, who describes Facebook as the world’s largest digital graveyard. I have no way off disputing Mr Sadikki’s claim, so I accept it. However, initially it made me uncomfortable. I thought it morbid, possibly voyeuristic. But, then I thought: why not?Through Facebook we have the opportunity to leave a little piece of ourselves for posterity—for future generations; our children, their children and their children’s children. It is not morbid. It is a gift. And, after all, generations before us have left diaries for future generations.
Yes, Facebook is more complex than a diary, but even that has merit. Without diminishing the written diary, I feel Facebook provides a greater insight into our daily lives: who we engaged with, who were our “friends”, what we did, how we felt, how stupid (largely, our photos) we could be, what we enjoyed and what we hated. And if we start now with that thought, we can even leave our pithy little sayings to posterity—something I am now doing on Mr Baldwin’s behalf.
Facebook has a policy of not automatically deleting a dead person’s Facebook page. Nor should they. Surely that should be left to the family or friends of the deceased.
But what they (Facebook) can do is allow us to nominate a ‘legacy owner’ who is empowered to keep our Facebook page alive and refreshed long after we are dead—a living dead legacy. Future generations might even want to use the social media site to send back messages to long-dead generations.
The only problem I see with that, is if they get a reply.
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