There was a time, not so very long ago when the benefits of digital communication were generally accompanied by cautionary riders. The commentary would range from dire warnings predicting the demise of articulate conversation, social skills, use of complete sentences, accurate spelling . . . all the way to attention spans lasting no longer than fifteen seconds. The images included couples dining out, across the candle-lit table from each other, fixated on their respective phones — at times ‘chatting’ with each other thru’ the ethers, not their shared space. Children were portrayed as increasingly more comfortable with their ‘virtual gang’ — the Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook crew — displacing real, face to face connection. We were becoming a population of social isolates — without really knowing it.

The past week has shifted this disturbing trend, a preference for many, to a global reality, necessity. I ‘attended’ two collegial ‘meetings’ yesterday, ‘joined’ by a half-dozen others — none of us leaving our home offices. For some, it was a novel experience, accustomed to making the challenging commute into city centre and sitting in stuffy conference rooms, briefcases and laptops in tow. We’d chosen to ‘Zoom’ in. Ear buds in place, two monitors arrayed before me, sweat pant-clad, my fellow ‘attendees’ were thumb-nailed across the top of the screen, easily seen and heard (and ‘labelled’ as they spoke). The agendas flowed with documents displayed and decisions made — orderly, efficient. And an abiding sense of ‘being there’ prevailed.

Never a Luddite, I had been one of those cautionary voices. As at home with a word processor as my Waterman, I’d long made the transition from paper and pen. Online newspapers had supplanted digging the Globe and Mail out of the snowbank many years ago. Although I still compose my letters (proof-reading and using properly punctuated, grammatically correct syntax!) — before sending them off, for decades the vehicle has been email, not ‘snail mail’. But I’d always reserved the right to play devil’s advocate railing against the day when one communication platform would fully supplant the comfortable, conventional, ‘civilized’ and social way of sharing. Plays and concerts were intended to be attended. The sounds and energy of a sporting event were as much a part of the experience as the score.

But what if we can’t. . . meet, attend, look into the eyes of the person we’re addressing? The very human need to share does not diminish. The New Yorker link below catalogues the myriad ways in which the operas and symphonies, the ball games and Broadway have overcome empty bleachers and dark theatres embracing online feeds of all stripes to keep us connected — ‘present’ and participating. With the doors to churches closed, the pews empty, and the choirs out of the stalls, the two family church musicians persevered this past weekend, playing from home, conducting choristers in another city in a celebration of Evensong. In Italy, the balconies are still ‘in play’ — just moved outside with the acoustics of a city street replacing curtained theatre walls.

I may have to lighten up a bit on the virtual. Seems to be doing yeoman’s service filling the void — rather than creating one!

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/the-pandemic-is-remaking-what-performance-can-be