A phatic expression is “one whose only function is to perform a social task, as opposed to conveying information.” Examples include “How are you?”, “You’re welcome,” and “Aren’t you glad the Bush years are almost over?”
On Facebook, phatic is king. This is the place for pithy “status updates,” not lengthy confessions or intellectual posing. If writing on your friend’s wall is too big a commitment of verbal resources, try “poking” her. The digital poke reduces communication to the gentle jab of a small child in search of snacks or a monolingual American seeking directions on the Paris Metro.
On Facebook, birthdays are the new Christmas. After all, the birthday belongs to YOU, the gal with the profile and the home page, but the new database intimacy allows all your friends (and almost-friends, along with Rachel Ray’s diet team) to wish you a happy B-day without the sticky inconvenience of postage stamps or floral food. And we’re not just talking one-on-one well-wishing: Group cards are the Facebook equivalent of those office docs that fill up with scribbles (you know, phatic ones) from everyone with a cubicle and a ball point pen.
Sounds awful, doesn’t it? Worst than texting, even? Maybe not. I find a certain comfort in the the silent swarm of phatic messages that bounce from one wall to another in the Facebook universe. If I want a deeper exchange, I can write an email, using resources right on my friend’s page. And an email coming from Facebook is less likely to get deleted.
My daughter Hannah, age 12, enjoys teaching me the ins and outs of Facebook. (She thinks it’s cute that Mothership, as I am now called, has to fire up her Facebook page before making breakfast.) And, as Hannah’s Facebook Friend, I get to see all the groups that my teenager is joining on line. They range from the sublime (“Million Strong Against Newly Passed Proposition 8”) to the ridiculous (“Cats with Sunglasses”).
So go ahead — poke me! On Facebook, you can’t be too phat.
— Julia Lupton · 2008-11-26
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THE BOOK