Good­bye Si­lence, my old friend

The Star Early Edition - - OPINION & ANALYSIS -

ELLO Dark­ness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.” That sums up how I feel about Twit­ter. It’s dark but, when you switch on the lights, you see the vast­ness for what it is – an echo cham­ber. You reach for the vol­ume con­trol.

But the sound of si­lence is con­tra­dicted by the ca­coph­ony of the words of the prophets. Much of it is garbage with the in­ter­sper­sion of the odd ed­i­ble leaf or bean. Per­haps the clut­ter is due to its cheap­ness. If talk is cheap, then Twit­ter’s cheaper. You pay your small change and sub­mit your tup­pence-worth. Even where there is rich­ness and depth in Twit­ter, shal­low­ness lurks in silent shad­ows. The trolls are ever present.

With mal­ice, some choose to walk the tweets of cob­ble­stone. Some en­ter in­no­cently but are caught in the whirlpool of in­sult, be­lit­tle­ment and con­dem­na­tion. Even the most fair-minded state­ment gets twisted into fod­der by the witch-hun­ters. Ev­ery straw can be pro­cessed into a poi­son ar­row pierc­ing past and present per­ceived en­e­mies.

Worse, the silent noise from Twit­ter is ap­pro­pri­ated by the in­truder ra­dio, sum­moned by squawk­ing self-seek­ing spokesper­sons of the Of­fended Class to sever the ar­ter­ies of any re­main­ing claim to rea­son­able and con­struc­tive dis­cus­sion.

Good­bye Si­lence, my old friend.

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