' Silver Surfers?'

Victor Keegan writes a weekly column on technology in The Guardian and the following is an edited part of his contribution last week.

‘Silver surfers, defined as internet users over the age of 65, spend more time on the web than any other group, according to the annual report of Ofcom, the communications regulator.
Good. Now let's get rid of them: not the people, the phrase. It is as patronising as it is counterproductive to call someone a silver surfer, conjuring up a picture of granny actually being able to type a few words into Google and then press carriage return all on her own. A lot of today's over-65s, let alone the over-50s, lived through the personal computer revolution of the early 1980s, either actively themselves or through their children. Now, with more time on their hands and in many cases more money, they are the natural beneficiaries of the innovations that are now sweeping the web.

Yet there is still a lot to be done. Over-50s may account for nearly 30% of all time spent online, but they represent 41% of the population. So they are still badly under-represented.
Older people don't want a ghetto created for them that says "If you are old, come here": that would make social isolation from the rest of the world self-fulfilling. They do want to keep up with old friends, but they also want to make contact with other people of whatever age with whom they share a common interest. Age may be something you have in common but it is not a common interest.

Social sites also offer tantalising political opportunities. A third of people eligible to vote are over 55, and they are twice as likely to vote as younger people. Networks that have the potential to attract millions of members who can be contacted instantly, offer a possible solution to the age-old difficulty of organising older people. Think what a debate over the size of the old-age pension would be like if millions of older people formed an online lobby to influence the government, threatening to switch their votes.’

An interesting perspective. But as an ageing computer-user, I resist the idea of being organized! Keegan’s article was followed by over 40 comments, some of which were illuminating and informed and others derisive and foolish. (What is it that makes some people want to post up daft things?!)But there seemed to be agreement that no one wants to be known as a silver surfer. Including me.

(B.R.)

Reflection rather than Anecdote

‘Yes, you’ve told us that one before’ said an understanding group of friends to their oldest member for whom conversation now consists almost entirely of memory and anecdote. He hears a familiar word or reference and it triggers a memory which springs out of its cage, and he is off again on the anecdotal road. (Being rather deaf doesn’t help and that word he thought he heard can sometimes not be the one that was actually said!).

The same sort of thing has happened to me and it’s a trap that all of us who are older too easily fall into. It isn’t just that the past is important to us and often more vividly alive and valuable than the more mundane events of today, though that may be true. Nor is it only because the flow of memory is unstoppable as we trace the years that we have lived through, the people we have known and the places we have been to. Most of all, anecdote is a sort of reassurance that helps us to cope with the present in which we often feel we have little place and relevance. The timelessness of the past can complement that out-of-time feeling we have about today.

I am trying to deal with this (though others may feel unsuccessfully) by stopping the instinctive anecdote in its tracks and asking myself – ‘will this really interest people?’ Itself not an easy question, the problem then arises that by the time you may have decided that this is a story that will be immensely interesting to everyone present, the conversation has moved on to another topic and you have lost your chance. Next time you may be able to make a quicker decision. Whatever happens, risk is involved. The greatest danger of all is to imagine that you can get people’s attention by telling them about your amazing past, compared to your more mundane present. That doesn’t work I find!

What else to do with the great storehouse of memory than open the door and make public the private experience? Well, do it only occasionally and as I say, only when it seems appropriate. The other thing to do perhaps, is just to treasure the memory if it’s a good one and forgive it (or yourself) if it’s a bad one. Older people in some societies are still thought of as repositories of wisdom, but if in this culture that isn’t the case, we can ourselves reflect on the stories of the past and perhaps gain some wisdom for ourselves. And if we have a good friend of the same generation or a younger person who actually wants to know a bit about our personal history, well, that’s a bonus.

B.R.

Taking It Slowly

Published in 1983, Sten Nadolny’s novel ‘The Discovery of Slowness’ is based on the life of the arctic explorer Sir John Franklin and can be read as a hymn of praise to ‘slowness’. We have a copy and I am half way through it. The book has inspired television programmes, experimental films and even an opera. Jurgen Moltmann refers to his compatriot’s novel in his book ‘God for a Secular Society’, which I am also reading at the moment. Moltman says ‘in the moment which is fully and wholly lived we experience eternity. Isn’t the living intensity of a single lived moment more than all the hastening through the times of life in their extensiveness?’ He goes on to say that it may be our suppressed fear of death which makes us so greedy for life. He argues that the individualism of modern life means that we hold on to life as long as we can because when it’s over there’s nothing else, whereas in traditional societies the wider perspective in which people have lived, lives on.

‘Slowness’ - in the original German 'langsamkeit' - is associated with mental disability, but in Nadolny’s hands the idea becomes a powerful asset. The ‘slow’ person can afford to wait and attains victories unimaginable to the people who are always rushing about. Having spent much of my life doing just that but now lacking the work-context or energy to continue doing so, I am trying to learn this hard lesson. I see that Stephen Cottrell, Bishop of Reading, has written a book called ‘Do Nothing to Change Your Life’ in which he says we should all slow down, finding time to sit and think (and make your own bread and grind your own coffee beans, he says).

The advantages of slowness? Physically you might be less likely to stumble, knock things over and lose energy without needing to. You could also emotionally distance yourself from the mad pursuit of pleasure that is such an oppressive symbol of modern culture. There could be time to cherish family and friends as well, and value the modest achievements of your past and explore a few possibilities for the future. For a person of faith, slowness gives space for contemplation and ownership of an interior life free of the conventions of a religion that may be more about appearance than substance.

Most of all slowness could mean acceptance of advancing years not as a burden but as a gift.

B .R.