What the Microblogging Explosion Means and Why Twitter is Addictive

I can't say I have mastered it, but I am warming up to Twitter, a technology that I had been skeptical about at first.   It really is pretty counterintuitive, the idea that we need more interruptions and noise, and that people might care about the 140 character pulses of our thoughts and lives; but there you have it, there is no denying the legs of microblogging phenomenon.

An article in this past Sunday's NY Times magazine by Clive Thompson – I'm So Totally, Digitally Close to You – does a good job of explaining the allure of microblogging  (and other feed technologies such as Facebook updates) and what this means in a broader context.

He described something called ambient awareness:

Social scientists have a name for this sort
of incessant online contact. They call it “ambient awareness.” It is,
they say, very much like being physically near someone and picking up
on his mood through the little things he does — body language, sighs,
stray comments — out of the corner of your eye…

This is the paradox of ambient awareness. Each little update — each
individual bit of social information — is insignificant on its own,
even supremely mundane. But taken together, over time, the little
snippets coalesce into a surprisingly sophisticated portrait of your
friends’ and family members’ lives… This was never before possible, because in the
real world, no friend would bother to call
you up and detail the sandwiches she was eating. 

In terms of broader social context, Thompson writes:

You could also regard the growing popularity of online awareness as a
reaction to social isolation, the modern American disconnectedness that
Robert Putnam explored in his book “Bowling Alone.”

One of the most interesting passages describes the Dunbar number – the maximum number of social relationships each of us can maintain.  The number has been pegged to be 150, confirmed by studies.  Yet social networking and microblogging technologies would seem to amplify our Dunbar numbers.  How can we support all of these relationships? 

Here the article gets really interesting as it explores close vs. weak ties, the former being made up of close friends and family.  Regarding weak ties, Thompson recalls his discussions with the people he says are most aggressively social online:

But where their sociality had truly exploded was in their “weak ties” —
loose acquaintances, people they knew less well. It might be someone
they met at a conference, or someone from high school who recently
“friended” them on Facebook, or somebody from last year’s holiday
party. In their pre-Internet lives, these sorts of acquaintances would
have quickly faded from their attention. But when one of these
far-flung people suddenly posts a personal note to your feed, it is
essentially a reminder that they exist…

Sociologists
have long found that “weak ties” greatly expand your ability to solve
problems. For example, if you’re looking for a job and ask your
friends, they won’t be much help; they’re too similar to you, and thus
probably won’t have any leads that you don’t already have yourself.
Remote acquaintances will be much more useful, because they’re farther
afield, yet still socially intimate enough to want to help you out.
Many avid Twitter users — the ones who fire off witty posts hourly and
wind up with thousands of intrigued followers — explicitly milk this
dynamic for all it’s worth, using their large online followings as a
way to quickly answer almost any question.

Thompson also explores what this means for our public images:

This is a common complaint I heard, particularly from people in
their 20s who were in college when Facebook appeared and have never
lived as adults without online awareness. For them, participation isn’t
optional. If you don’t dive in, other people will define who you are.
So you constantly stream your pictures, your thoughts, your
relationship status and what you’re doing — right now! — if only to
ensure the virtual version of you is accurate, or at least the one you
want to present to the world.
This is the ultimate effect of the new awareness: It brings back the
dynamics of small-town life, where everybody knows your business.