I used to measure intimacy by proximity.

As a student of philosophy, I understood that the basic tenet of man's existence was to find and establish meaning. I found that many philosophies agreed that individuals were decisively unique. Philosophers such as Kierkegaard argued that man is irretrievably isolated, while the French iconoclast Jean-Paul Sartre declared that man sees his fellow human beings as intruders upon the background of his world. If anything has had the power to subvert this opinion and the myriads of literature along the same line, it would have to be the rapid growth in popularity of the Internet with its project to force the global community into intimate quarters. This effort follows from the assumption that a pervasive dialogue which invites the global community into close proximity will help advance social harmony and can bring about positive changes for all involved. Unfortunately, this assumption is classic Capitalist philosophy in its most sinister manifestation. This network effort resembles the geographic expansionism consonant with British Imperialism, which compromised the cultural practices and native ceremonies of less-developed nations that were never intended for public exhibition. Such was the case in the1800's when Africa's "Dark Continent" reputation was perceived as something to be overcome rather than appreciated. And the very darkness of their privacy was forced into the light of public exploitation. This same mentality translates into our current techno-expansionist project.

The idea is that proximity which establishes a degree of distance, whether it is close or far, brings about intimacy. Intimacy is no longer a state of mind but has matured into a billion dollar marketing strategy. The Internet has enjoyed as much success as the God hypothesis, and as we approach the 21st century, it is apparent that this technology will only continue to grow. One might think of the Internet as an underground conventicle, where proletariat sympathizers, sensualists, consumers, and a slew of other dysfunctional entrepreneurs meet to communicate their ideas in a sort of ritualistic exchange. Originally, this technological phenomenon was enlisted for use in the academic and scientific communities. It was a technology that cataloged information and made it accessible through networking systems. But as this technology gained a larger reception, curiosity was ignited, and the Internet graduated into the commercial community. Today it has expanded to include millions of sites, promoting everything from fashion and cosmetic accessories to concert footage and talk radio shows.

As I mentioned earlier, this gross expansion was initiated to take advantage of the need to bring the world together. I think it is important to understand that compression does not entail intimacy. Allow me to explain. We are ready to agree on most levels that for intimacy to flourish it must be practiced in privacy. Forgive me if I sound like Stendhal here, but let us take the case of two lovers. As the lovers entwine their bodies together, as they nurture one another with affectionate displays, they are compressed into a oneness that leads them to believe that they are the only two people in the world. Proximity is abandoned, and the lovers’ individual identities become enmeshed in an indefinable oneness. And intimacy is the result of this new union. Thus, presence is the tooth and nail that hammers intimacy into the floorboard of the human heart. But the idea that technological networking provides the same level of presence leading to intimacy is a common misnomer supported by the millions of commercial and avant-garde sponsors ready to set up camp in this new technological domain. Presence is achieved in a superficial if not virtual way.

This sounds like the same old argument against virtual reality. But it is reality. I am not debating that point. However, it is not presence. I once spoke to a woman who lives in Germany part of the year and spends the other part in Baltimore, Maryland. She explained to me how Americans are so spatially oriented. We hate tailgaters in traffic jams. In the supermarket we look with disapproval upon the person whose cart collides with ours. We even hate the sardine-packed beaches on a well-deserved vacation spree. She went on to explain that in Germany, the natives are more passive towards this kind of behavior. Space is not crucial. At first this sounded like a diatribe against America, but when I reflected on what she said I soon realized our behavior was actually more in favor of the need for true intimacy. It is not surprising that Americans react to proximity as a violation of their intimacy. Because of the lack of oneness in casual encounters they are more than willing to spend two or three hours surfing the Internet. In many cases, this type of encounter becomes a provision for retreat. Recognizing that the consequences for their behavior are rarely enforceable, Americans find that their Internet excursions can be disengaged, detached, and most importantly, anonymous.

What does this all mean? Americans lack presence on the Internet. This is not bad. In fact, it is merely a reaffirmation of our tradition values stemming from our ideas of intimacy. Intimacy is a relationship that cannot be enforced, not by proximity at least. Rather it is the absence of proximity that reveals true intimacy. And as the world stands to assemble itself around the Internet monopoly, we will only suffer the misfortune of false definitions and measures of intimacy that lack the sincerity of presence. So, as the corporate moguls unleash the next wave of upgrades and advancements, and the commercial industry launches more advertising campaigns, full of propaganda that informs us of our need for global intimacy, we will once again be challenged revisit the current technology trends. Our resistance to these techno-innovations must be gauged according to the affect of each presumption used to manipulate our suspicions. As we genuflect before the priests of the techno-scientific community, soon our identities will be submerged into a vacuous anonymity. And our individuality will burn like phosphorus, and cease to burn no more.

Copyright © 1999 Frank S. Palmisano III

Frank S. Palmisano III is the "Poet-in-Residence" at Carver Center for Arts & Technology in Towson, MD. He is a graduate of Towson University and is currently pursuing an M.A. in Philosophy at American University and an M.A. in Theology at St. Mary's Seminary & University. In his leisure time, he also freelances as an entertainment critic for Digital City.