It was written by 80-year-old Irishman Jim Logan from his bed in London.

He was wondering how everyone was doing back home and wrote:

“I was born in June 1938 in Lahinch and lived in Crag from age nine to 16, when I emigrated to England. I attended national school in Lahinch and CBS in Ennistymon. It would be great to hear from anyone from that era. I wonder how many of us are left?”

It was published in last Friday’s edition of the paper and subsequently went viral on social media. By Tuesday, Mr Logan, among other things, had been offered a return flight to visit his home place once more.

“I was thrilled to get all the lovely letters, calls and generous offers from home and look forward to reconnecting with long-lost friends,” he said this week.

It is understood that some of the letters Mr Logan received may have included the odd bar of Dairy Milk, perhaps even a Turkish Delight.

The whole affair was a welcome reminder of our humanity. It showed us that social media can be a powerful tool to galvanise kindness into caring action.

Because all too often, social media appeals to our darker side. Abuse has become commonplace. It is now an accepted form of communication.

At the East-Link Toll Bridge in the Dublin Docklands there is a small sign on the window of the cashier’s booth that reads:

“Please do not abuse staff”.

Perhaps the driving examination needs to be updated to test for manners and basic human decorum. Surely adults do not need to be reminded to “not abuse” others. But when there is a screen between you and your victim, abuse can flow freely.

It flows freely because of a simple two-part equation caused by the online disinhibition effect and the use of

dehumanising language.

This week, the President of the United States of America described someone as “that dog” on his personal press release machine, Twitter.

He was referring to his recently fired aide, Omarosa Manigault Newman, who is publishing a memoir about her time

inside the White House.

He also described her as “crazed” and a “crying lowlife”, but the word “dog” is the one to focus in on here.

Ms Newman is of human species, not canine.

Humans are a social species. It goes against our hardwiring to hurt, harm or kill one of our own kind. But we can and we do.

Dehumanising helps to override this hardwiring to do no harm. Dehumanising starts with the language we use.

The Nazis did it.

During the Holocaust, Nazis described Jews as “Untermenschen” - subhumans. Jews were called “rats” and depicted as disease-carrying rodents in all sorts of literature, including children’s books.

When you give a crazed, crying lowlife a break, and give her a job at the White House, I guess it just didn’t work out. Good work by General Kelly for quickly firing that dog!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) August 14, 2018

In the Rwandan genocide, Hutus called Tutsis “cockroaches”.

Michelle Maiese, chair of the philosophy department at Emmanuel College says dehumanisation is a psychological process whereby an “enemy image” is created.

The enemy is seen as inferior, criminal or evil and at the end of the process, any harm done to the person is easily justifiable because they are no longer human.

Donald Trump’s target this week just happened to be a woman, a black woman.

Coincidentally, hate crimes have increased in America in recent times. Last month, the office of the attorney general for the state of California reported that hate crimes had spiked by 44% between 2014 and 2017.

And in 2017 alone, there was a 12.5% increase in these types of crimes in Chicago, Dallas, New York, San Diego and Los Angeles, according to police reports there.

Words matter. There is a consequence to the language we use.

The other part of the abuse equation is the protection that a screen affords to an abuser — the online disinhibition effect. It is a theory by John Suler, a professor of psychology at Rider University. It explains how people act out more intensely online than they would in person.

One of his principles is “dissociative anonymity” or “you don’t know me”, so when you feel anonymous, you feel protected. When you are anonymous you do not have to “own” your behaviour. Another tenet of his theory is “invisibility” or “you can’t see me”.

The internet offers the abuser a shield. Their inhibitions are lowered because they do not have to worry about their body language or tone of voice.

Another key factor is “dissociative imagination” or “it’s just a game.” This is the internet, normal rules of interaction do not apply. You can get away with a lot more in the make-believe world of cyberspace.

Trump is well-versed in the abuser’s two-part equation: coupling the online disinhibition effect with the use of dehumanising language. And it’s rubbing off all around him and moving from online to offline and across borders and international waters.

This abuse is now common in Irish online life too. We saw it here in July with revelations by high-profile social media users detailing the years of targeted abuse they received for simply having the audacity to take up space online. Most users were women.

#Unhinged 8.14.18 pic.twitter.com/PaslQbkWxF

— Omarosa (@OMAROSA) August 9, 2018

Just last week we saw another woman picked apart by the baying mob for being homeless and a mother; being judged and criticised, mocked and condemned. It showed us at our worst.

And then there was Jim Logan calling home from London — showing us at our best. Both scenes played out online, both using the same tools of expression and communication.

But perhaps, the fault is not in social media but in ourselves and all that lies between abuse and respect is a choice: Do I want to harm or to help?