Irish Independent

Sorry, Facebook, you went too far this time

- Liz Kearney

I’VE just taken a quick peek at my Facebook account, halfexpect­ing it to have turned overnight into a tumbleweed­strewn wasteland in the wake of the Cambridge Analytica revelation­s.

But in fact it looks the same as it always does. Rather than vanishing like puffs of smoke in a bid to preserve their online privacy, all of my Facebook friends appear to be still present and correct, and my feed is filled with its usual random assortment of cat memes, heated abortion debates and charity fundraisin­g appeals, punctuated by ads for Ikea.

And appalled though I am by the news that political agencies have been liberally harvesting Facebook users’ data with a view to influencin­g voters and election outcomes, it turns out I’m not appalled enough to actually do anything about it either.

I haven’t actually deleted my account or anything radical like that, mainly because, well, I couldn’t be bothered and then also because it all seems to be really complicate­d and timeconsum­ing.

But if I’m really so horrified by the Facebook scandal – and the details are truly chilling – then why am I so apathetic when it comes to striking back?

I know in my heart the sensible thing to do is to opt out of the service (and many people are surely doing just that as I type) but it seems sort of pointless.

The Cambridge Analytica story is definitely extremely sinister, but it also seems very remote to the average user.

If we primarily use Facebook to share holiday snaps with friends then do we really care that the tech companies are trawling through them?

We already know that what we share online is far from secure, even where it is supposed to be protected.

But most of us believe we’re leading generally unremarkab­le, uninterest­ing lives, so why would anybody bother? There couldn’t be a hacker in the world bored enough to feign interest in photos of your latest Mediterran­ean cruise, could there? Even when we learn that our personal details – like where we went to college, or where we work, or what Facebook posts we’ve liked – could be used to target us with politicall­y motivated advertisin­g, strangely, it doesn’t feel that personally threatenin­g.

After all, we’re surrounded by advertisin­g all the time. And we probably believe we are not so easily swayed as to vote a certain way because something popped up on our timeline one Thursday afternoon.

We like to think we are informed consumers and voters. And it’s been common knowledge this type of data-mining has been going on at some level prior to the ‘Observer’s revelation­s.

For several years political campaigns around the world have been praised for being clued in to social media and using digital technology to galvanise activists and voters. Privacy’s a funny thing. Once it’s been eroded bit by bit and in little ways that seem hardly noticeable at the time, it seems to matter less. Even the moment I realised my computer was probably listening to me, after subjects I’d discussed verbally but never online started appearing in ads on my timeline, I was only briefly shocked.

It didn’t seem so bad after a while. Hey, I reasoned, if my computer’s listening to me, well at least someone is, right?

And yet. This does feel like a tipping point for even the laziest online citizen like me. Facebook’s tumbling share price suggests the market knows people are going to start running scared from the site.

I don’t believe the tech revolution – and in particular social media – has brought much that is genuinely good to my life. Useful, yes, but not truly enriching.

Facebook certainly adds little of value given that I’ve already seen all the cat memes in the world. Now if someone could just delete the damn thing for me, I’d be very happy with that.

Let royals eat cake

ROYAL-WATCHERS will have noted with interest that Prince Harry and his bride-to-be Meghan Markle have dispensed with the traditiona­l fruit cake for their wedding day.

I can’t say I blame them. Let’s face it, fruit cake is not really cake at all, but a densely packed, indestruct­ible, denture-threatenin­g ode to times past.

Growing up, the Christmas fruit cake would usually last until about August, which was a clear sign noone actually liked it and was only eating it when they’d run out of other more palatable options.

Meghan and Harry won’t have that problem – they’ve gone for a truly delicious-sounding lemon and elderflowe­r cake which will no doubt be scoffed in seconds.

Easter avocado

JUST when you think we’re long past peak avocado, the humble green fruit demonstrat­es its power to keep on givin’.

Posh British supermarke­t Waitrose is rushing to restock its sold-out avocado-shaped Easter egg, a chocolate confection designed to look like one half of an avocado fruit, with a chocolate shell, green flesh and an inner lump of dark chocolate that resembles a stone.

Meanwhile, Tesco is pushing its new Zilla egg avocados: mini versions of the fruit sold in an egg box. Is there no end to the appeal of this Millennial favourite?

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 ??  ?? Cambridge Analytica whistleblo­wer Christophe­r Wylie’s revelation­s have sent tremors through Facebook. Photo: Jack Taylor/Getty Images
Cambridge Analytica whistleblo­wer Christophe­r Wylie’s revelation­s have sent tremors through Facebook. Photo: Jack Taylor/Getty Images
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