Thursday, July 16, 2015

Gifts

I have a thing I do on Facebook every year, on my birthday, and this is why I do it. What I do is change the settings so people can't post to my wall, and then I put up a post that asks them to reply and share one memory of me. Doesn't have to be earth-shattering, funny, or a good story; it can be just a sentence long.

My reason for doing it has a lot to do with phatic messages. A phatic message is just a display of politeness; it doesn't convey, or request, any meaningful information. When you see someone you know and you say, "How're you doing?" and they say "Fine," you've exchanged phatics. If you ask "How're you doing?" and the person responds with details about different aspects of her life, then she commits a social mistake, because the proper response is "Fine." "Fine" is even the proper response if she's having a rotten day, because the question is simply a polite, empty ritual, meant to simulate interest and liking even when the asker doesn't really feel either one.

What I worry about is something I'll call "phatic creep," the slow desertification of language where empty politeness shoulders aside meaningful talk. One worrisome example of this is "I'm sorry for your loss." I'm not sure who coined it as the all-purpose condolence, but as you can see, it's enjoyed runaway growth over the past thirty-ish years. And the problem is, condolences shouldn't be empty. Sure, it's difficult and uncomfortable to think up something heartfelt to say to a person who's grieving, but some hard things need to be done well, with no shortcuts, and I count that near the top of the list.

I think this is a symptom of alienation and declining social capital. People who become unaccustomed to interacting in powerful and sincere ways with intimate friends tend to fall back into safe, scripted utterances. Bureaucrats use bureaucrat-ese with their clients, and too often, Christians lapse into church-safe language over taking the risk of speaking directly and dangerously to the situation in front of them. In a healthy culture, with more opportunities for direct interpersonal engagement, people would feel more confident talking through those sorts of issues, but that's not the culture we navigate today, sadly.

There is no steering wheel for culture; instead, there are little habits and little changes that can nudge in one direction or another. I see that birthday wishes on Facebook tend to be just the two words, and sometimes something as whittled down as HBD. Even when the wish has a little more elaboration to it, it's warm and thoughtful, but it doesn't really convey any content or foster real engagement. It's still phatic. So instead, I ask people to offer up a memory just so we both can have a moment of appreciating what we've done, and who we've been to one another. I try to make a point of responding to each reply, either with my reaction to the memory, or with a related memory. Sometimes it's a little extra effort to pull that out of the past, but it's worthwhile.

I started doing this about four years ago, and every year I've really enjoyed reading what people come up with. Some repeat the same stories from previous years, but they're fresh again and ready for retelling after that big a gap. And sometimes it makes for a pretty interesting relational Rorschach test; I think of the relationship we have in one way, but the top-level memory the friend comes up with shows me just how wrong I am. It's not always entirely comfortable, but it's a useful and welcome learning experience.

I'll add, I opted out of present-buying years ago. I decided that for small children, presents are about excitement and magic and a quick remission from discipline, but for adults, presents are about greed. I'm also very difficult to shop for, because I overthink just about every purchase half to death, and when I want something, I go right out and buy it for myself. This memory-sharing has turned out to be a lot more satisfying than possession-swapping. And there's a pretty solid research-based explanation for why that's the case.

I'm not against phatic communication; it certainly has its place and its important function. But phatic communication as a response to meaningful events like painful loss, or milestone events like birthdays, just seems like a squandered opportunity to enjoy and strengthen relationships. And those opportunities are finite, so it's important to make the most of them.

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