David Emery Online

Modern Grief

4 December 2011

“R.I.P.” – about 3 minutes ago

Last Sunday, at around lunchtime, my Twitter feed spontaneously filled up with tributes to the late Gary Speed. It seems as though he took his own life at the age of 42, which is tragic whatever way you look at it. That kind of instant, mass outpouring of sadness is like a punch in the gut; you can’t help but be effected.

Up until lunchtime yesterday I had no idea who Gary Speed was. Now, I was grieving for him (albeit in only a relatively small way).

This is not a unique experience. In fact, it’s almost becoming a daily experience; if you keep an eye on the trends on Twitter you won’t go to long without seeing one for someone that has died, and the subsequent stream of tweets – of remembrance – that got the term trending.

There’s two angles on to why this is so affecting; social recommendation power and the instant nature of the modern Internet. We’ve long talked about how much more powerful a recommendation from a friend is versus one from a more traditional media source, and the same goes for death – a “R.I.P.” from a friend means so much more then a solemn statement on the 6 o’clock news (“And now, the weather with Carol”). Multiply this by the way this sort of news spreads incredibly quickly and you can be staring at a timeline of tributes that all mean something to you, even if the person they’re about doesn’t.

This last point compounds the loss; this person has died, and I obviously should have already known who they were and why they were worthy of tribute. And now it’s too late. It’s a different kind of loss – and in this context quite selfish, really; but there it is.

In contrast as much as this online social interaction can make you greave about someone you’ve never even heard of, when it’s someone that you do have some form of connection to it can act like a videogame-style combo-multiplier of grief.

There’s no doubt that the death of Steve Jobs was the online world’s Princess Diana moment, but for me on a personal level it had a massive impact. Yes, I’m a big fan of Apple and the products they release (with the notable exception of iTunes Ping, of course), but when you get down to it he was just the CEO of a company that makes gadgets. I’d never met him, nor met anyone that had, but yet on the morning of his death I shed a tear (and I’m not one for grand gestures of emotion).

Twitter was the cause.

Tweet after tweet after tweet of sadness, tributes, simple messages and multi-tweet outpourings added up to a tidal wave of grief. Apple fans and critics, tech geeks and luddites alike. Every single tweet in my timeline about the death of a single man.

Social media – a term I’m not fond of, but at least well understood – is perfect for the rapid dissemination of information, and also for powerful, unique personal recommendations. It is the ultimate distribution medium for sorrow.

Grief begets grief begets grief, in the (tearful) blink of an eye.