Are there no rules online?
Can one just kill anyone virtually?
If there is one thing I am thankful for the e-mail, it is its lack of protocol. Or, maybe it has a new protocol.
The death of letter-writing did not begin with the slow demise of the postal services but with letters that begin with the word “Greetings.” Some even abused the goodwill of this writing tradition by including “Greetings of Peace.”
Growing up when Christmas caroling was not yet within the dominance of the Bureau of Internal Revenue, I was always tasked with writing the Christmas carol letter, the one that begins with “Greetings” or “Peace.” Working in a government corporation, I was surprised that business letters started to have this salutation. Be the letter to an auditor or a complaining customer, it always felt like the Nativity. So much for the rules of business-letter writing; the corporate letters sounded like they were written by the descendants of the Three Magi—without the divinity and fate connected to those Wise Men, without even the wisdom.
Are we not ever thankful when the Internet gave us the e-mail? The norms shifted: Letters were meant to be brisk and quick, perhaps as a response to the dawning of the “Send” command. Touch that key and the world—or a portion of the massive universe of communicators—receives anything you have composed.
Soon, the e-mail underwent evolutions. Chat rooms were set up. We did not simply write; we entered that room and participated in the most awesome, forbidden, unforgettable interactions. Anonymity became sexy. Sex became anonymous and, if you are skilled in the ways of the new words, unanimous. Imagine the varied scenarios. The conjured identity is the key to a new kinship. One could create new, altered identities; one could invent as many identities as possible.
New letters were generated. “U” became universal; acronyms were shaped, many of them without any guide to understanding.
And soon, conversations were established and designed online, without any rule, without any guideline. The idea was that the human groups civilized to a point would bring their own sense of civilization—decorum and dignity, polish and politesse, breeding and bearing—to the untried exchanges and verbal engagement. But that would not be the case. There are irritants online as there are aggravations offline, in the traditional domains of communications.
To address the burden that I have to face everytime I engage with anyone online, I came up with these rules, just for the sake of lightening the heaviness in my heart. In no particular order, here they are:
- The conversations online have been given an appropriate name: thread. Therefore, when you are writing a response to a thread, follow that thread. Do not weave your own. If the thread began with someone promoting a new design for a bag, do not start to talk about apparition. Not only are apparitions different from craft, they are, at best, suspect. If you see a long-lost friend or aunt online, do not greet each other. The thread is not some street corner where you can swap hellos and farewells. There is a PM, which means you can deliver your most private desires and delusions about apparitions and the deluge away from topics on bags and baggage.
- Be consistent. The Internet, for all its technological newness, is a human invention. It can still be affected by the principle, “things you say can come back to haunt you.” Remember what opinions you have posted with regard to certain issues. If you have rallied against the cutting of trees, make sure when your favorite politico makes his stand against it, you do not go around rallying behind this leader. The law of Karma can always transform you into an opinionated tree in the future.
- Do not rain on somebody else’s parade unless you are doing an impersonation of Barbra Streisand. Besides, Streisand impersonators have become so common you can see them everywhere from Youtube to game shows with white mice as mediators. When someone has written a fine, moving essay about gratitude, comment on the essay. In fact, you can even post a constructive criticism of that essay. But, never, ever write lengthily about your own experience and claim that you and the writer share exactly the same situation, because verisimilitude is a trick that belongs inside a magician’s bag. Remember, again, that a thread does not allow you to be a columnist at the expense of another writer. The best thing is to apply as a writer and there write letters to the world that will forever haunt others. When that time comes, you may forget everything about “thread” and, maybe, just maybe, if you do see that word again, it will be in the domain of tailors and seamstresses.
- Be polite. Politeness is always fabulous and glamorous. Cordial and deferential words are like the breath of an angel when around us spew the vile and uncouth phrases from spokesmen and leaders. I have nothing against confrontational statements; they have a place in forums where everyone is given time and space to defend to death perspectives and opinions. We are talking about online talk, the closest we can see and hear and feel the ease of the fleeting, the tenuous and singular grace of the ephemera. Do not destroy the moment.
- Think zen, think Japanese. Cliché as this last idea may be, the Japanese concept of ichigo ichie applies to the beauty of the impermanence in an online meeting. As that old Japanese phrase implies, which literally means “one time, one meeting,” the encounter online is never assured of a repetition, of a certainty that you will meet again, even of the possibility that when you do see each other that you will exchange greetings of words. Make that encounter, that flow of dialogue exemplary and surpassing. Even the samurai warriors, it is said, would unsheathe their swords and leave them at the entrance of the teahouse so they could partake of the tea. The drinking itself was done in a long, careful ceremony because who knows whether, in that period of violent uncertainty, they would never see the same people again.
But if you must use verbal swords or guns, the online forum is not meant for you. You have to go somewhere, perhaps live in this country called the Philippines, where Asia wears a smirk, bloodshed and brutality.
E-mail: titovaliente@yahoo.com.
Image credits: Jimbo Albano