Why I Quit Facebook

I quit Facebook recently for the third time. The previous two attempts failed dismally. The first one after around 4 months, the second after just a couple of days. This time though, I’m off that “life-giving and life-taking elixir” (as Irvine Welsh described heroin in Trainspotting) for good. The comparison, I believe, is apt. Facebook (as a shorthand for social media generally) has replaced religion as the “opiate of the masses”.

One lunchtime, with no malice aforethought, I simply de-activated my account. In reality, deactivation is little more than logging out. I’m only a username and password away from re-activation. But I’ve disappeared to the Facebook world. “Where’s the fella gone, he was here a minute ago”, my friends will cry. “He does the same in pubs”, they might add.

But why did I do it? I’ll try and explain in more detail, but basically it came down to this. For me, Facebook was more negative than positive. That’s the most important point and I want to remember it clearly in case I weaken, as I surely will, and decide to return to the fold.

I almost did just that within 24 hours. During the football, Martin Tyler described Chelsea’s David Luiz as “the bushy-haired Brazilian”. I thought of a great comment (you can probably guess it) which might have garnered any number of “likes”. I came very close to re-activating but manly fought off the impulse settling instead to simply share the comment (verbally, like they used to do in the olden-times) with my wife who laughed tolerantly. It wasn’t a “like” though and I felt cheated.

When you deactivate, Facebook asks you for a reason. It presents you with a list including:

My account was hacked.

I don’t feel safe on Facebook.

This is temporary, I’ll be back.

Other.

I selected Other and left the Please Explain Further box empty, considering it to be insolence of the first water. But then when I confirmed, it demurred:

Please select a reason for deactivating. If you choose "Other", please explain your reason.

So polite enough (two pleases if you please!) but firm with it. Unless you choose one of our reasons you must – MUST – extrapolate on your own. I was in no mood for extrapolation (I wanted out while my nerve held firm) so I unclicked Other and selected I spend too much time on Facebook. This is probably true, although “too much” is clearly subjective. I was spending around an hour a day. I also could also have happily stood over any of the following:

I don’t find Facebook useful.
I don’t understand how to use Facebook.
Facebook is boring.

The latter option, sadly (like the idiotic Carlos Tevez – who is off to Disneyland for the summer, rather than the World Cup in Brazil), being unavailable for selection.

Now I’m back in real life. The offline world you might say. And I’ve been listening to the new Eels album lots (twice). I think it’s fabulous, a thing of great beauty. I recommend it to you. So it occurred to me to share this insight. Ah but no Facebook! I can’t share my news about the new Eels album being a thing of great and fabulous beauty. And if I can’t share it, is it really beautifully fabulous?

It’s like the philosophical thought experiment:

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

A Facebook version of this might be:

If I cook a plate of “Linguine a la Vongole” and I don’t post a picture of it on Facebook, does it taste good?

Yes of course it does, it tastes brilliant (assuming I cooked it) but, given the number of pictures of plates of food shared on Facebook, you might think otherwise, or at least that sharing the picture was as important as actually cooking and eating the food. And some pictures are so good (airbrushed to within an inch of their life godammit!) you wonder if the meal has gone stone cold before the diner has deigned to eat it. Of course the picture could have been uploaded post-prandially, as it were, but I’ll bet it wasn’t.  Uploading that foody image is, by some distance, top of the Facebook user’s to-do list and if it didn’t get done now, well, it might not get done at all and then what? A bloody good meal wasted that’s what.

I believe this mind-set, this need to share almost as a validation of life’s everyday events, is common to many Facebook users and is, not to put too fine a point on it, a modern curse. Nothing can simply be enjoyed in the present. Not only must it be shared, it must be shared via an excellent photograph, with effects and borders and a jocose bon mot to accompany it. The good news is, as someone who successfully quit Facebook for 4 whole months, I can confirm that the mood passes. If you can stay clean for a couple of weeks, you lose this unhealthy compulsion and start to breathe easy again.

At base, Facebook, if it’s about anything at all, is about mild boasting. Most people don’t do this in an overt “Look at me, isn’t my life great” kind of way. But, of course, everyone likes to paint a positive picture of themselves, and Facebook provides a perfect platform for this without letting pesky light in on the magic. Hey, I might be a 45 year-old functioning alcoholic with a dead-end job but I still listen to cool music like The Eels and, look, I made this lamb tagine. From scratch!

So is Facebook boring? I believe yes. At least 95% so. I have, or rather had, around 300 Facebook friends. In real-life, at a push, 15. If I’d shared my insight into the new Eels album, perhaps those 15 would have found it interesting. Some may even have “liked” my post and my heart would have swelled with pride.  Vindication and glory would be mine. The new Eels album would have been confirmed, beyond any reasonable doubt, as fabulously beautiful. However, around 95% of my friends would have found it boring and ignored it. What’s this got to do with dinner or babies or Candy Crush (whatever that is) they might have thought. If they thought anything at all.

All of this is obviously my own opinion and reflects my personal experience. I’m sure plenty people don’t find Facebook in the least boring. Or only a bit boring, say, 25%. More likely they haven’t measured how boring their Facebook is or even thought about it. And that leads into why:

I don’t understand how to use Facebook.

It’s true, if I’d clicked that box it would be at as genuine the one I did pick. You see, I don’t think all this stuff I said earlier about “excellent photograph, with effects and borders and a jocose tagline” really comes into play for many people. They’ll post any old rubbish and wouldn’t dream of spending half an hour crafting the perfect comment. And maybe that’s how Facebook should be used, put it out there, I’m sharing something with you, the quality is irrelevant, this is my experience, I’m telling you about. You can like it (pun intended), or lump it.

The other reason I suspect I don’t really understand how to use Facebook is that I’m sometimes a tad controversial. Hopefully not in an offensive way but I wouldn’t shy away from posting something about divisive issues such as religion, sexuality or the former Glasgow Rangers football club (not to be confused with the current club by that name). Woops, I’ve just been controversial there.

This is probably an attempt to pep up my daily toil and, in some ways, an effort, now that I rarely get out to the pub, to have a cyber-pub conversation where, at least amongst men, being cheeky and irreverent is a la mode. Trust me friends, 

FACEBOOK IS NOT FOR THIS PURPOSE. 

This kind of cheek and nonsense rarely goes down well.  Facebook is about being positive and nice all the time. “If you can’t say something nice don’t say nothing at all” as Thumper’s Mum reproved in Bambi. This is why there’s no “dislike” button.

Let me paint a picture. It’s Friday night, pizza night. My wife and I are having, as is our wont, gin and tonics. The kids are happy pottering about or watching daft programs about performing arts schools in LA on the tablet. Music is blasting from the stereo. It’s the new Eels album. Lovely pizza smells are drifting from the even. It’s blue cheese and red onion. All is well with the world. But is all really well unless Facebook knows about how well it is? As we (or at least I) concluded above there is a piece of the jigsaw missing. We must have validation. I grab my phone and what’s on my mind, Facebook, is the following:

Pizza in the oven, the slightest dribble of tonic in the gin, the new Eels on the stereogram (a thing of great beauty). I love Fridays.

I click “POST”.

Now we have closure. The evening may proceed as before.

Except it can’t, can it? Because now fifteen minutes have passed, the album is over, the glass is half-empty (literally) and...

NOBODY HAS “LIKED” MY POST.

A melancholy sets in. Here I am surrounded by my beautiful family, it’s Friday night, I’m pleasantly tipsy and have pizza and a couple of episodes of “True Detective” ahead of me. But I’m at least 5% depressed because 100% of my Facebook friends, 95% of whom I barely know, have ignored me. It’s now 30 minutes since I posted and still radio silence is maintained. I wouldn’t say I was exactly disgruntled, but I’m far from being gruntled. If it’s dramatic effect you’re after (and I get the distinct impression it is)...

THE NIGHT IS RUINED UTTERLY.

Perhaps Facebook isn’t like this for you.  I certainly hope not. The above scenario only partially reflects any reality for me. I’ve exaggerated for effect. I’m not that sad (honestly). What’s true about it is that, for me, posting on Facebook, both the before and after, is on balance a negative experience. That’s why I packed it in three times, hopefully this time for good. I want a quieter, more pastoral existence.  One where I can head down to the pub with the paper and simply enjoy a pint and a bag of nuts without worrying about whether a photo of a pint and a bag of nuts would look better with a soft or subtle effect or what kind of chemical burn would enhance the shot.

And whether the comment Dinner would garner a few blessed “likes”?