Emma Cowing: Only a twit naysays tweeting power

Published on Monday 28 March 2011 16:27

BACK IN the second week of February, when Hosni Mubarak had just fallen in Egypt and other north African countries were beginning to show signs of protest, a rumour swept the social networking site Twitter that the internet had been shut down in Algeria.

It wouldn't have been surprising. Mubarak's regime had tried to do something similar the previous month, in an attempt to undermine the millions of young people mobilising their protests via online communication, and Middle Eastern governments were panicking. Intrigued, I tweeted that I hoped it wasn't true. Within 30 seconds two Algerians had replied to me to say no it's not, we're still here, thanks for asking.

This, in a nutshell, is what I love about Twitter. It is direct, honest and, in a world that can seem big, scary and remote, personal.

Twitter has been getting a lot of stick lately. It recently turned five, ancient in social networking terms (MySpace, created in 2003, now resembles an eerie graveyard of broken dreams and links), and has been the target of much derisory commenting after it was announced that MPs can now tweet directly from the chamber during debates.

The naysayers - the latest of whom is the non-tweeting yet curiously megaphonic Janet Street-Porter - seem to think that Twitter could lead directly to the end of civilisation itself. That because an increasing number of people - including two-thirds of MPs - now regularly tweet, human beings will lose the art of conversation, stop appreciating the real world, and slide into mute, technology-driven despair.

I have been tweeting for a year now. I am not prolific, but I try to contribute to the debate. Last year, I followed the general election campaign on Twitter, and tweeted from Fife on election night while chasing the Labour MP for Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath and soon to be ex-prime minister around a sports centre. I can honestly say that I have never felt so well informed about an election campaign(or, if it comes to it, a sports centre) as I followed the thoughts of politicians, journalists and commentators on Twitter as they covered every cough and spit of the election live.

I use Twitter for many reasons: to keep up with the news; to find out what's on next on Radio 4; to be entertained and provoked and moved. Twitter is a gateway to good writing and opinion, as well as an enormous bay window on life. When I log in each morning I get snapshots of the world around us. Margaret Atwood, my favourite writer, talking about extremism. A friend in South Africa saying he's had his visa renewed. A picture of an osprey returning to its nest.

That's not to say, of course, that there isn't a lot of drivel on Twitter.Banal, barely literate teenagers tweeting about Harry Potter and the Twilight series, that strange breed of human that feels the desire to tell you when they're eating their breakfast, what they're eating and how long it will take, not to mention the sort of self-serving celebrity who only ever links to their latest "project".

And sometimes - whisper it - I fall out with Twitter, too. Last week on holiday in Ireland I barely looked at it, and relished the peace and quiet of not constantly having to stay up to the minute or dream up a witty riposte. Did I cancel my account? Of course not. But - and I say this knowing I sound suspiciously like a smoker in denial - I could if I wanted to. Twitter is not essential to my life, but it does greatly enhance it.

Of course Twitter can never replace a handwritten letter, a book or a face-to-face conversation. To suggest otherwise is embarrassingly naive. But as long as humans are alive, they will continue to find new ways to communicate. Viewed in that context, Twitter is merely the latest in a long line of ingenious inventions that started thousands of years ago with smoke signals and cave drawings. And I want to keep reading.