Alex Tabisher’s smartphone has (anti) social media

IHAVE acquired a smartphone. This triggered my introduction to the “social media”, which in my mind should be labelled “antisocial media”. The cellphone makes you accessible anywhere and at any time. You feel compelled to answer. Behavioural patterns change in obeisance to this plastic tyrant. Users need to be reminded at solemn occasions to please switch it off.

Dining couples have been seen seated across from one another in restaurants and sending text messages instead of looking into each others’ eyes.

And there is a grimmer visage: you could succumb to the insidious wiles of this little intruder while operating dangerous machinery. It has been the cause of many tragic accidents.

There are some commendable advantages to having a smartphone: portable games, accessible emails, memos on the hoof and so forth. There is a cute partytrick that can save a life. It requires one to punch in a number under the capitalised word ICE (an acronym for In Cases of Emergency). It informs relatives when you are incapacitated.

Another plus is the video function. I am fascinated by the term “it has gone viral”. This refers to video clips that catch the public’s imagination.

Something happens, and within seconds the whole world knows. This is useful for the apprehension of wrongdoers. We become portable CCTV cameras.

There are even enthusiasts who install dash-mounted cellphones in anticipation of road accidents. The information captured could help in the investigations that influence insurance settlements.

Unsavoury behaviour can also be caught and disseminated via this medium.

It underlines a desperate need for a set of protocols to monitor levels of acceptability. The instances where protocol can be broken are legion. Schools, hospitals, closed meetings and so forth.

I once suffered the ignominy of sending a sensitive message to the wrong recipient. I still smart at the indiscretion. But if that “send” button has been pressed, Omar Khayyam smiles.

The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on. Nor all thy piety nor wit shall lure it back or cancel half a line. Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.

My wicked sense of humour tempts me to ask who it is who will avoid singing the words of that uplifting hymn: “His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me.”

And poor Helen has also fallen victim to her own utterances on this fiendish device.

That there might, in fairness to her, be some truth in her belief that not everything from the past was bad, she is guilty of insensitivity.

And the cellphone does not respect sensitivities.

There is a lesson to be learnt from this: self-censorship isn’t always bad, words can hurt.