In our social media world, is empathy dying?

By Bree Barton

A few weeks ago, my best friend was robbed in a posh Washington, D.C., neighborhood. As she stepped out of her car, a tall young man asked for directions to Connecticut Avenue and then pulled out a knife. ``I don't want to hurt you," he said. ``Just give me your purse." Because he was holding a switchblade to her stomach, she obliged.

What came next was unexpected. ``Is there anything in here you need?" he asked. ``How about your cellphone?"

Startled by the offer, my friend retrieved her phone. Before she could edit herself, she had made another request.

``For the love of God, I'm a writer," she said. ``Please let me keep my computer."

``OK," he said. ``Take it."

The mugger disappeared with the remaining contents of her purse _ laptop charger, lip gloss, 10 bucks in cash. My friend stood cradling her Droid and MacBook, feeling a sense of gratitude that would later enrage her.

I was on my computer helping her cancel credit cards when a Google news flash caught my eye. On Sept. 19, a freshman at Rutgers allegedly used his webcam to secretly tape his roommate's private encounter with another man and broadcast it on the Internet. When the roommate, Tyler Clementi, discovered he had been surreptitiously recorded, he changed his Facebook status to: ``Jumping off the gw bridge sorry." On Sept. 22, Clementi jumped.

Two isolated incidents, right? Not in my book. We live in a world where muggers are conscientious enough to allow victims to keep their most prized technological gadgets, and where privileged 18-year-olds don't understand that secretly recording a sex act and broadcasting it virally is a gross invasion of privacy ― one that ultimately led to a young man's death.

Welcome to life in 2010. We've never been more connected to the people around us. We've never been more disconnected, either.

The past several years have yielded countless articles on the short- and long-term effects of today's technologies. Clifford Nass, a communications professor at Stanford, told The New York Times that our heavy dependence on technology diminishes empathy by limiting how much people truly engage with one another. ``The way we become more human is by paying attention to each other," he says. ``It shows how much you care." For Nass, technology represents a fragmentation that does not reflect favorably on our evolution as human beings.

In a spring 2010 study at the University of Maryland, 200 unnamed students were asked to refrain from using electronic media for 24 hours. The results of the experiment were revealing. One student reported feeling "alone and secluded from my life. Although I go to a school with thousands of students, the fact that I was not able to communicate with anyone via technology was almost unbearable."

But posting a Tweet or updating a Facebook status isn't real engagement. It's narcissism masquerading as connection. The anonymity of the Internet drives a wedge between our true self and our virtual persona, enabling us to disassociate from the consequences our actions have on others.

I sincerely doubt that Dharun Ravi, the Rutgers freshman being charged with invasion of privacy, ever intended for Clementi to kill himself. My guess is that he wasn't really thinking about it. Judging by Ravi's snarky Tweet on Sept. 19, he probably thought posting a live feed of his roommate's sex life was a clever way to get some laughs. Who knew cyber-harassment could wreak real-life devastation?

As for the man who mugged my friend, perhaps it was empathy that prevented him from taking her laptop and cellphone. But if that's how empathy has evolved in the 21st century, I think it's safe to say we're facing a serious disconnect.

Bree Barton is a freelance writer in Los Angeles.