I am not on Facebook but that doesn't mean I'm a Luddite. Quite the opposite; I enjoy embracing new technology.

Max Pollak and Freemantle, where I began my broking career and which, in part, is the origin of the broking operation at which I am currently employed, was the first firm in South Africa to use a random-access computer, way back in the '60s.

Keen to learn more about computers after I finished my formal studies, I completed a two-year diploma at Wits that taught me, among other things, to programme in COBOL.

For years I was a member of IT committees at the JSE that were responsible for shaping policy. Even now, I am occupied promoting the use of highly sophisticated international trading architectures that permit customers to buy shares on all the major markets.

Owning an iPad, a Kindle and a Blackberry has changed my life, opening an Aladdin's cave of business and leisure material that was formerly out of reach. Besides, these techno-gadgets connect me to my office when I'm travelling, allowing me access to mail and other important information in those fruitless hours spent trapped in the plane or mooching around airport lounges.

But, with nowhere near enough time to come close to keeping abreast of the daily flow of corporate and economic news, or to respond proficiently to the gush of e-mails in my inbox, I have neither the energy nor the motivation to update my personal page on Facebook, letting people I hardly know, or haven't seen since bar mitzvah lessons with Max Walhaus, that my granddaughter passed her ballet exam or that my wife, after 40 years of marriage, has finally managed to make chicken soup like my late mom's.

Of course, that's an age thing. I am very close to my immediate family and the few friends that I have, and I prefer to make regular contact with them by phone.

Yet I recognise that, for the whimsical youth, who are constantly searching for the social equivalent of the God particle, Facebook provides a valuable way to stay in touch with the latest trends and to correspond effortlessly with friends, both near and far. They share photos of their holidays and exchange views on everything from must-see videos on YouTube to restaurants best avoided.

Though, in fairness, Facebook has moved beyond its purely social function and has become a powerful platform from which to promote innovative products and contemporary thoughts.

Political strategists attribute much of Barack Obama's success in the 2008 US presidential election to his intelligent use of social networking sites to convey his policies to youthful voters.

Activists in last year's uprisings in North Africa and the Middle East, as well the leaders of the Occupy Wall Street movement, were easily able to mobilise their followers by persistently posting bulletins on various pages on Facebook.

Virtually every large corporation, from Coca Cola to Dow Chemicals, maintains a page on which it can update its stakeholders about interesting developments.

Facebook's popularity is an extraordinary achievement. In less than 10 years the network has attracted a community of users roughly equal to the population of India, and its owners are in the process of monetising its reach.

Facebook is going public shortly, with analysts placing a value on the operation of between $75-billion and $100-billion. At present, the business earns revenue of about $3.7-billion a year from advertising, but it hopes to increase this significantly from related activities, though at this stage its strategy is rather hazy.

With these moves Facebook will lose a big chunk of its hipness. Apart from founder Mark Zuckerberg and his legion of close associates, it's not Facebook's hordes of cool supporters who stand to gain millions from the initial public offering, but the unhip members of the Evil Empire that will score handsomely. Last year Wall Street's Goldman Sachs raised money for Facebook, placing cheap shares with its clients, and investment banker Morgan Stanley will earn exorbitant fees for arranging the flotation.

That's not my biggest gripe. Social networking sites were created to promote online dialogue and discussion, but the effort required to update one's page continually and respond to unremitting feedback loops forces users into astonishing anti-social behaviour. Guests at dinner tables incessantly check their smart phones for mail, participants in meetings disregard proceedings to reply to messages, and employees sit zombie-like at their desks scanning their phones for hours on end for postings from friends and family.

There is probably little we can do to alter the trend other than look forward to a life in which we make virtual love on our smart phones, meet friends and family on social pages and transact our business dealings on iPads from the comfort of our lounge.