I ended a long-standing personal debate yesterday and quit Facebook, certainly for now and probably for good. The final straw that broke this camel’s back was the decision of Facebook’s owner not to block incendiary posts from one particular user. As I wrote in leaving, it has been the standard in this country for 101 years that you can’t shout “fire” in a crowded theater. What the unnamed, but well known, user posted incited violence, which by any standard is far worse and deserving, even warranting, censorship.
In all likelihood, that same user is likely to seek government-sanctioned censorship of a book to be published by John Bolton said to be critical of him, a double standard by any standard, but this brief post is meant to be about my own incongruity in continuing to post on Facebook for so long.
Facebook has long welcomed all comers, except in countries where it abides by a government’s own censorship. The only true consistency in its motive seems to have be what yields the most revenue. One could largely block offensive rhetoric in one’s own feed, but you knew, at the same time, that the site continued to amplify ignorance, hate, and lies under the guise of promoting free speech.
I was taught growing up to abide by what we called, “Thumper’s Rule,” which came from a line in the film Bambi, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” I have a friend who will tell you I still (mostly) live by that rule, but I know that life is not as simple as that adage. There are moments, I think, when one must speak one’s mind, though with enough humility, intelligence, and thoughtfulness to be understood through whatever anger and hate may color a hearer’s perspective.
Perhaps I should have given up on Facebook’s electronic soapbox long ago. Looking back, I suspect so now. I stayed as long as I did because I wanted to share a smile with old and new friends at times when I felt they might need one, often knowing that I certainly did. I thought I added enough value to be heard over others’ who shouted, less to be heard as to drown out others’ voices. Sometimes though, you have to stand for something, and it felt like it was time to leave; that is, to “say nothing at all.”
This little blog has no followers, as best as I can tell, and perhaps that is for the best. I can be my own small voice crying in the vast wilderness of some virtual cloud, and unlike the voice referenced by Isaiah, I have little to say and less that others care to hear.
As I alluded to above, it’s hard to know when enough is enough, but sometimes you know it is. I wrote a little poem to say something about this some time ago, and I’ll leave you with it.
Enough Is Enough
“He who knows that enough is enough will always have enough.”
Lao Tzu
We often say to leave well enough alone
but then we rarely know it when we see it
We may well say enough
when we’ve had too much
But in search of well enough
we forget that perfect is its truest enemy
You may know its brothers – good and fair –
and its sisters – just and barely
But by any name enough is indeed enough
