I’ve been reading through John T Cacioppo’s incredible book Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection, which apart from making me look like a weirdo on the train, has sparked off a few thoughts about the role of digital social networking tools in the facilitation of social connection. And, more specifically: are they actually a good idea or making things worse?

At the end of his recent RSA talk, Cacioppo was asked what he thought of tools like Twitter (which he’s on as @J_Cacioppo) and Facebook and whether they reduce or increase the risk of loneliness in individuals. His response was basically this: when used if there is no other way to get face-to-face contact, they can be a good thing. When used instead of face-to-face contact, they can be a bad thing. Which, when you put down your Twitter mob pitchfork and really think about it, makes total sense. If for some reason you are unable to meet with friends – say if you’re geographically separated, or housebound for some reason – then contacting them via Twitter and Facebook is better than nothing. But, if you’re using digital social networking tools rather than going out there and meeting with people, then while it may seem like social contact, it isn’t truly satisfying the need we have as a social animal.

Used properly then, they should be used like aperitifs: getting the body ready for more substantial sating. Not like a pre-dinner chocolate bar that fills you up so you don’t want your nutritious supper.

But like most tools, not all people use Twitter and Facebook in the best way. Personally, I definitely use it too much as a substitution for social contact. True, there are tweet-ups and industry events I could attend every so often, but I think everyone can agree that meaningful friendships that blossom from digital introductions are relatively rare for even the most sociable people (I’ve met up with just one of my 400-odd followers, for example).

And it’s the word meaningful that’s important. What’s important to our social fulfilment isn’t the number of connections we make (say having 400 Twitter followers), but the depth of them.

Twitter, Facebook, Bebo and Myspace all reflect our innate desire to create social bonds, but more importantly they make it easy for us to make the same mistakes we always make.

One of the main things people take pride in when they use digital networking tools is the number of followers they have. Yet everyone knows that, in the real world at least, it’s the quality of a friendship that matters, not the number of acquaintances we have. Everyone has felt lonelier in a room full of strangers than they have when they are at home alone. And, in fact, research has shown that perceived subjective loneliness (feeling alone) is far more dangerous than objective loneliness (being alone).

When social anthropologists talk of social groups they talk about bridging (making new connections) and bonding (deepening existing relationships). What’s odd, is that while we know that having numerous meaningless relationships does nothing to alleviate loneliness, most digital networks serve to create new shallow connections more than develop existing ones. And our brains need both.

I’ve started to think of digital social networks like bars. When, as single people, we go to a bar in search of meaningful connection, we tend to get anxious. So we drink to numb any potential feelings of social rejection. But then because everyone is drunk it’s very difficult to create a meaningful connection with someone. So we get frustrated and sometimes aggressive over our feelings of perceived rejection. When you take a step back and consider how counterproductive our actions are when we try to make social connections on a night out, it’s no surprise they often end in tears and violence.

But whereas in bars we drink to help us make initial connections to reduce the pain of any rejection, digital social networks have the same social effect of letting us distance ourselves from the pain of social rejection.

A digital, virtual rejection doesn’t feel as real as one in person. On Twitter I can @ reply a celebrity and if they don’t respond then I can console myself with the likelihood that the other person didn’t see tweet. That way it’s not my fault and doesn’t count as a rejection in the same way a face-to-face rebuffing would.

But likewise, any successful social connection doesn’t feel as satisfying in the digital realm as it does on the street or a party. If I was upset, the last place I’d mention it would be Twitter, as I’d need a friendly shoulder to cry on and physical contact from some I care for and who cares about me.

I love Twitter and Facebook. I’m not blaming the tools for the problems I see, but it’s important to recognise what they can and can’t achieve when used by people. A hammer isn’t inherently evil, but to ignore the damage it can do in the wrong hands is not to diminish the good it can do in responsible hands.

Thanks to the people I follow on Twitter I have found and read more books this year than I had in the previous five years – including the book that encouraged me to write this post. I’ve been introduced to topics I never knew existed, let alone understood. I have expanded the people I have conversations with by hundreds, but I have not found one more person who would answer the phone to me if I was upset. Not met one person who would help me out if I needed money. And that just feels wrong for a tool that is considered as social.

As an information sharing tool, Twitter is unbeatable. But as a tool to stop people feeling lonely, it stinks.