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Technology, like religion, needs humility

Posted in Irshaddering Thoughts on Jun 14, 2010

Right before the first anniversary of the rigged elections in Iran, an eerie calm descended.  Not just on streets once sprayed with the blood of protesters who demanded to know what happened to their votes.

Calm — or is it humility? — also lined the otherwise euphoric alleyways of Twitternation. I’m referring to the God-knows-how-many daily users of Twitter (like me). But unlike me, some of my fellow Twitizens swear that micro-blogging is the best friend of a revolutionary. I know a few these types. They outta get out more.

Then again, if Mohammad doesn’t go to the mountain, you can count on the mountain coming to Mohammad. What I mean is, even if Twitizens don’t grab an actual life, a reality check has already come to them: The UK’s Guardian newspaper splashes cold water on techo-triumphalists by pointing out that the role of Twitter in Iran’s Green Movement has been highly exaggerated.

The Guardian went easier on Facebook, where more than 140 characters can be shared at once. Therefore, substantive exchanges are possible.  I know this because I regularly ask my Facebook community questions about the ethical dimension of current affairs — be it the Gaza flotilla mess, Everybody Draw Mohammad Day, or deepening polarization in U.S. politics.

All, and more, have inspired (ok, incited!) heated debates that nonetheless show how civility and honesty can co-exist.  As moderator of these discussions, my not-so-secret hope is that by keeping expectations high and defenses low, the participants will develop real-world habits of excellence — listening for nuances, breathing even while emoting, and acknowledging where they have more to learn — that can make face-to-face dialogues more constructive, too.

Approached with humility, Facebook is a tool for every educator; one that teaches the educator about how (not what) to communicate as much as the educator wants to teach others about how (not what) to think.

By harnessing Facebook with the values of servant-leadership — leading, that is, by serving — something else has happened. Although only a “virtual” community, my Facebook forum has helped effect “real” change.

Last year, during the heyday of pro-democracy protests in Iran, I told my Facebook fans about “Ali,” my informant in Tehran. (You can understand that I have to use a pseudonym for him.) I informed the Facebookers that Iran’s street-level paramilitary, the Basij, bludgeoned Ali. Not only did he wind up hospitalized but, his sister confided to me, Ali felt utterly demoralized to have been yanked from the action.

His sister asked me to send words of encouragement that she would then pass on to Ali. While I embraced her idea, I went further: I asked my Facebook participants to come up with heartfelt statements about why they love their freedom. Many did and I, in turn, passed their testimonials on to Ali’s sister.

Days later, I followed up with my Facebookers to say that according to Ali’s sister, he conveyed these words to other convalescing  patients in the hospital room through a code that they’d previously crafted. Not a bad collaboration.

In another unexpected opportunity, I invited my Facebook forum to send greetings and prayers to Iranian journalist Jila Baniyaghoob. She’d won a courage award from the International Women’s Media Foundation (IWMF) in October 2009. Precisely because Iran’s regime kept Jila from attending, at the ceremony I introduced her story with a depth of detail that she might have voiced.

Those details moved me — and fed my creative juices. Knowing I could transmit messages to Jila through the IWMF, I gave my Facebook community the chance to tell her that people on the other side of the world care for her immediate security.

For me, among the advantages of a vibrant Facebook family is that we can experiment with varied ways to support flesh-and-blood activist. Obviously, sharing in the struggle for human dignity isn’t a given with social networking sites. It’s the values we bring to them that matter. You can be a violent jihadi and leverage Facebook for mayhem, destruction and death. Or you can be a servant-leader and maximize your i-community’s talents for constructive compassion that translates “on the ground.” Your own humility makes the difference.

Technology, like religion, is at its best not only when we stay humble about its claims, but also when we — its devotees — use it to be of service to others. That’s worth going to the firewall for.

More examples of servant-leadership can be found at cyberdissidents.org.  In particular, I urge you to check out jailed Iranian blogger Ali Behzadian Nejad’s  Ten Rules for Being Human.