Tuesday 17 February 2009

Facebook Farewells

A couple of days ago I heard, via an email list, that someone I knew had died. I almost wrote 'friend of mine', but in truth although we had been acquainted for about twelve years or so we had never met. We belonged to the same society, both belonged to a virtual group of that society, he was the controller (if that's the right word) of the first chat room I ever visited, way back when you had to book a space weeks in advance to arrange an online meeting. He was a follower of this blog, as I was of his. We had many friends in common. And so I do feel that he was a friend, and am saddened by the loss of this man I had never seen. Ironically, we would have met, should have met, in two weeks' time at a real life reunion of our little online community, but it won't happen now.

The news of his death was announced first on Facebook. From there the word went round by email. And I have been brooding darkly about Facebook ever since. He was not the first friend of mine whose death I have learned about by this means. Only a couple of months ago, a man that I did know in real life but had not seen for years because we live in different countries now was killed in an accident. The first I knew of this was when a mutual 'friend' set up an 'RIP' group for him. Earlier last year, something similar happened, not on Facebook this time, when I heard via an email group that a former member of the group had died. It had been some years since she had been an active member, and some of our community didn't know who she was. I was able to post a link to her personal website, which was, of course, still out there in cyberspace.

And this is what concerns me, a little. Lennie and Francis are still listed as 'friends' on my Facebook page. This blog still officially has a 'follower' who will never read it again, and will never again post to his own blog; he only started it a month or so ago. Andrea's home page is still there. So how long does one's virtual presence stay around for? Are we creating a society of ghosts who can be summoned at the click of a mouse? Websites, home pages and even email addresses will, presumably, eventually disappear when they are no longer being paid for, but what about blogs and Facebooks or similar accounts, which are kindly and generously hosted free of charge? And the email lists? Will one in future have an obligation to leave 'unsubscribe and/or delete' instructions along with the list of bank accounts and direct debits to be cancelled?

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