As a youth in the 1980s, I spent rather too much of my time marching through the streets of various British cities chanting 'Maggie! Maggie! Maggie! Out! Out! Out!'. I was an officer for my local NUS and for all my passion, I suspect my whooping and hollering made little difference to the Prime Minister's reign. However, it was at least an outlet for my callow militancy. The only outlet, to be honest.
And so, yesterday, Margaret Hilda Thatcher (nee Roberts) really did take her leave of us, dying from a stroke in the Ritz Hotel.
Perhaps inevitably, all the wounds, divisions and bitterness from her time in charge rushed back to the surface. Not in me, particularly, but certainly in many whose hatred and animosity had laid dormant for two decades, until this key moment unleashed them once again. Only this time, there is a mouthpiece so much more sophisticated than a yell in the cold air. This time there is Twitter.
And so, yesterday, Margaret Hilda Thatcher (nee Roberts) really did take her leave of us, dying from a stroke in the Ritz Hotel.
Perhaps inevitably, all the wounds, divisions and bitterness from her time in charge rushed back to the surface. Not in me, particularly, but certainly in many whose hatred and animosity had laid dormant for two decades, until this key moment unleashed them once again. Only this time, there is a mouthpiece so much more sophisticated than a yell in the cold air. This time there is Twitter.
I didn't receive the news of Thatcher's demise via Twitter. I was about to go into a marketing event and one of the organisers told me. But I did immediately check Twitter for confirmation. To say this social media platform is now my primary news source is something of an understatement. By the time I reached home, my timeline was crammed with Mrs. T themed comments. Some were intelligent, others factual - but the majority, by some distance, were highly opinionated and not at all pleasant.
Of course, this didn't surprise me. If Thatcher had a talent, it was for enflaming emotions. But it did make me ponder the nature of Twitter.
It's arguable that Twitter (and to an extent Facebook), is the pre-eminent media of our time. But it differs from traditional media in that enables users to react to the news it carries in real time and, most importantly, unfettered. In the past, broadcast opinion has been the preserve of paid journalists, politicians and other chattering heads. The views of the common man and woman were restricted to dinner tables and public houses. But that was then and this is now. Today, the lid is off the box, the genie out of the bottle - we're all media commentators now.
So where is this new-found freedom taking us? On one hand, it has had an astonishing democratising effect. Holding those with power to account has never been easier, and their more dubious views can be unearthed almost any citizen with a mobile phone. Witness the demolition of Aiden Burley MP, who merrily tweeted that the universally popular opening ceremony of the recent Olympic Games was too 'multi-cultural'. In an instant he was slapped down for his rash outburst. Not by his party, his boss or his fellow MPs, but by everybody watching his messages directly or on re-tweets. It's hard to deny this is a technological people power in action. In fact, it's a wonder it hasn't been banned.
Then again, an open door through which the random musings of a million minds can rush isn't always going to be pretty. When the news of Margaret Thatcher's death filtered through (a process which took seconds), did her opponents run into the streets to declare their delight? Or telephone family and friends in celebration? Well, some may have, but many more took to Twitter. Quite what they thought had been changed by the expiration of an elderly woman with dementia, I can't be sure - but it's clear they were grateful to have a mouthpiece through which to sound off.
And there's the rub. There's something in the nature of Twitter that tears away people's inhibitions, encouraging them to say things they'd hesitate to express in other circumstances. And anonymity cannot be the sole explanation, as a surprising number of Twitter folk are very open about their identity. I'd suggest that Twitter users draw a certain confidence, even arrogance, from the fact they are in a world purpose-built for strong opinion. After all, you have to do something with those 140 characters, so strong sentiment is almost expected.
As social media gives a voice to anyone and everyone, we can't afford to be disturbed by the comments we read. Pleas for restraint or good taste are futile as they run counter to the Twitter principle. Even if that means an outpouring of joy at the end of a human life.
Of course, this didn't surprise me. If Thatcher had a talent, it was for enflaming emotions. But it did make me ponder the nature of Twitter.
It's arguable that Twitter (and to an extent Facebook), is the pre-eminent media of our time. But it differs from traditional media in that enables users to react to the news it carries in real time and, most importantly, unfettered. In the past, broadcast opinion has been the preserve of paid journalists, politicians and other chattering heads. The views of the common man and woman were restricted to dinner tables and public houses. But that was then and this is now. Today, the lid is off the box, the genie out of the bottle - we're all media commentators now.
So where is this new-found freedom taking us? On one hand, it has had an astonishing democratising effect. Holding those with power to account has never been easier, and their more dubious views can be unearthed almost any citizen with a mobile phone. Witness the demolition of Aiden Burley MP, who merrily tweeted that the universally popular opening ceremony of the recent Olympic Games was too 'multi-cultural'. In an instant he was slapped down for his rash outburst. Not by his party, his boss or his fellow MPs, but by everybody watching his messages directly or on re-tweets. It's hard to deny this is a technological people power in action. In fact, it's a wonder it hasn't been banned.
Then again, an open door through which the random musings of a million minds can rush isn't always going to be pretty. When the news of Margaret Thatcher's death filtered through (a process which took seconds), did her opponents run into the streets to declare their delight? Or telephone family and friends in celebration? Well, some may have, but many more took to Twitter. Quite what they thought had been changed by the expiration of an elderly woman with dementia, I can't be sure - but it's clear they were grateful to have a mouthpiece through which to sound off.
And there's the rub. There's something in the nature of Twitter that tears away people's inhibitions, encouraging them to say things they'd hesitate to express in other circumstances. And anonymity cannot be the sole explanation, as a surprising number of Twitter folk are very open about their identity. I'd suggest that Twitter users draw a certain confidence, even arrogance, from the fact they are in a world purpose-built for strong opinion. After all, you have to do something with those 140 characters, so strong sentiment is almost expected.
As social media gives a voice to anyone and everyone, we can't afford to be disturbed by the comments we read. Pleas for restraint or good taste are futile as they run counter to the Twitter principle. Even if that means an outpouring of joy at the end of a human life.
