So. The past nine months I’ve spent minimally engaged with the Internet. These past few weeks, I’ve gotten back into it to some degree. This process has sharpened a lot of observations of which I was nebulously conscious previously.
Basically, the Internet I interact with has developed a really unpleasant culture. It took nine months of interacting primarily with the culture at my school, which is a very different one (with its own particular unpleasantnesses, of course), to confirm what I’d begun to suspect years ago.
Here are the things I noticed: on the Internet, everything goes on record (with all the attendant temptations of anxiety and uncharitability). Fandom is HUGE, the entertainment we consume dwarfing almost all other topics. We demand that others summon up outrage multiple times a day. Negative responses are overwhelmingly the default (yes, every negative response and call for outrage is given a plausible justification, but they are everywhere). The desire for attention here is remarkably naked, and the content too often accordingly self-absorbed. And there’s a lot of indiscriminate sharing of eroticism without considering whether that’s a good thing for everyone.
All of this makes for a seriously less-than-excellent environment.
I find myself tempted to use that tired line “my friends are amazing people, it’s the big bad Internet.” But here’s the truth: as amazing as so many of you are, each and every one of us contributes in a tiny way to the construction of this unpleasant society, by participating in certain ways and expressing certain things. Self included–I’ve been a largely wholehearted participant until recently. I know that these unpleasant behaviours are not all there is to any of us. But when this is what comes through, regularly, it becomes all any of us can see. Everything online is not offensive. But enough of what all of us post is. I am worn down by it. I didn’t realize just how worn down I’d become until I spent some time away, and discovered that it’s possible to engage in social interactions without having to harden myself.
What’s the conclusion? I don’t know. I can’t pretend any more that I’m okay with the Internet that we, collectively, have created, and I need to do some serious thinking about that. Why does it seem to work for us? What is our behavior getting us? What does all of this imply for me as a participant? As a Christian? I still don’t know those answers. As I spend the next year finishing up my degree and preparing to get back to consistent creativity and blogging, I suspect this is going to be much on my mind. I’d like to talk about it if I can. I’d appreciate your thoughts, too.
Edit: In case anyone is curious, there’s also a discussion ongoing on the LJ version of this post.
I often wonder who “we” is. The vagueness of accepting responsibility on behalf of an entity I refuse to, or cannot, describe, has been drilled into me since childhood (by certain parental figures!) as a figure of speech rather than a mode of action. I think it’s the necessary vagueness about certain aspects of the Internet community that has bothered me and has encouraged me to bow out bit by bit over the last three years.
By necessary vagueness I refer to the Internet’s hugeness and the preference for anonymity (for good and for ill), which in my opinion exagerrates, cartoonlike, what’s already a problem in (American) society: assumption of individual opinion, thought, and accountability into a nameless whole defined only by broad black-and-white categories. Can we define who contributes to online negativity and how? Is obsessively reblogging quips and snapshots from your favorite fandom on your Tumblr very different from consuming media in the way people have done traditionally in the last 70-ish years – seeing a film multiple times in the theater, buying up merchandise, attending conventions? Is there something inherently wrong with devoting oneself to consumption in that way? How about the pervasive eroticism throughout “real-life” society outside the Internet – does the Internet offer another problem or a means to combat it?
“We” or “us” is a party I feel unable to confront. It’s like trying to detonate Mount Everest by yelling at it. What I’d like to find out – and I’m not sure how to yet – is to look into “we” and see “me” and “you” and “you” and “you” and “you” – without everyone having to scream for attention for me to do it.
Those are some interesting points–and some really great questions–and I need to mull them over. One first reaction, though–I’m not sure I entirely agree with your analysis of we/us language. I could, in fact, begin to name the people who contribute to online negativity, and the ways in which they do so (and yes, I am one of them, that is not a hollow “we”). I chose to sacrifice precision for the sake of tact. I don’t want everyone to take responsibility for all the things I’ve observed, and I don’t intend to accept responsibility on their behalf; I do hope that people reading stop and ask themselves, “what is my particular relationship to this structure?” Because we/us is, as you observe, made up of me and you and you and you–and the problems of the aggregate don’t arise out of nowhere, they arise out of particular choices each member makes, at particular times, for which each does bear individual responsibility. That it’s not within my capacity or inclination to name those particulars doesn’t mean they don’t exist. That is and has been the difficulty in discussing all social problems, but doesn’t render such discussions pointless. I can’t detonate Mount Everest by yelling at it. But I can say “hey, anyone who’s listening to me, you and me helped pile up this Mount Everest thing, why and how did we do that? Should we keep doing it?”
I’ve been thinking about this, and agree with you about halfway, and more than likely I’ll be commenting further, but right now I’m just really amused at how many different places this was cross-posted to. :)
…I agonized over that, believe it or not, because on the one hand there’s something ironic about broadcasting everywhere a criticism of attention-seeking, but on the other hand I really want people to read this because I think it deserves saying, even though I unfortunately happen to be the one saying it.
Long comment is looooong.
Basically, the Internet I interact with has developed a really unpleasant culture.
I’m going to see if your observations match mine. For reference, here’s the Internet I interact with.
-Very active on Twitter
-Minimally active but still connected on LiveJournal
-Minimally connected on WordPress
-Lurker on Fark
-Not on Tumblr
-Barely on Facebook
-Yearly citizen of the NaNoWriMo forums
-Regular Runescape player
Here are the things I noticed:
on the Internet, everything goes on record (with all the attendant temptations of anxiety and uncharitability).
My observations mostly match. Mitigating factors are private/direct message systems and anonymity. Anonymity and “real name use” come with two different sets of concerns, mostly uncharitability and anxiety, respectively.
Fandom is HUGE, the entertainment we consume dwarfing almost all other topics.
My observations partially match. My Twitter feed is compiled of people I’ve met through various fandoms, many of them a decade (or more!) ago. For them the fandom elements have died down. I still hear and engage in a lot of fandom squees, but I also hear a lot about work, pets, family, and news. Entertainment tweets tend to be less of the fannish “Thing I’ve seen a hundred times is so great!” and more of the “I’m watching/reading this thing right now, anybody else?” I do not frequent any dedicated fan areas anywhere on the Internet, except places like i09 that support and encourage fandom, but broadly and generally, not of any specific work.
A huge percentage of my Twitter feed is made of writers and artists. Those people are, even in an amateur or part-time capacity, part of the entertainment industry, so entertainment news and critique are a fairly personal part of their interactions.
We demand that others summon up outrage multiple times a day.
I see a lot of calls for outrage from certain elements, and occasional more universal outrage. (I keep a paper diary and like to add in a little note about the Twitter outrage du jour. You know, for posterity.) Occasionally a major outrage event seems mobby, but I continue to argue that that’s a perception based on numbers, not mob rule–that more people than usual are getting annoyed individually. More often, I see little outrage swirls from the people I know to be activists or sympathetic to a certain set of causes. If I wanted to see less outrage, it would be easy to cut out the major generators.
Most of the outrage I see is an expression of personal outrage, not a demand for others to do the same.
Negative responses are overwhelmingly the default (yes, every negative response and call for outrage is given a plausible justification, but they are everywhere).
(I split these up so I can talk about negativity and outrage separately.)
In the amateur-writer circles I run in, the tone is overwhelmingly positive. People are supportive of each other, victories get cheered, and setbacks get sympathy. I’ve seen major negativity a handful of times, mainly in response to:
1) A professional acting outrageously (Scott Adams)
2) An amateur acting with astonishing poor judgement (Jaqueline Howett)
LiveJournal has tended to be whiny in the past, but I get the feeling that more often than not, people go somewhere else to be whiny these days. I don’t know where.
Fark is a cesspool of negativity.
The Twitter complaints I see tend to be rueful #firstworldproblems-type griping, usually with humor. I do tend to unfollow the relentlessly negative.
Entertainment reviews can and do get gleefully negative.
The desire for attention here is remarkably naked, and the content too often accordingly self-absorbed.
I see a ton of this, and of course it’s the one I do the most. I think the shift of individual users from content consumers to content creators makes non-attention-getting behavior nearly impossible, regardless of intent. Congratulating a friend’s achievement does as much to put your name in front of their (and their followers’) eyes as it does to deliver your goodwill. Telling people good news automatically takes the form of tooting your own horn. Anyone sounds self-absorbed if you single out what they say from everything they do, or see, or respond to in a day, which is the model for presenting information in most places now, grouped by creator. To leap ahead to your questions of why it works, why we do it: It works because we *like* to hear about other people, and like to be heard.
And there’s a lot of indiscriminate sharing of eroticism without considering whether that’s a good thing for everyone.
I see different forms of sexual content in different circles. DevArt tends to be deliberately lurid. Fark tends to be deliberately crude. My Twitter feed tends to be either sex-positive (especially among people on Tumblr for some reason), not concerned with sex (at least, not tweeting about it), or vulgar at a Shakespearean level of eloquence. (Okay, that one’s just @ChuckWendig.) Only the DevArt and fannish circles tend toward what I’d call eroticism.
Should we be concerned about what’s a good thing for everyone, or trust them to know it for themselves? The policing of other people’s behavior is not Christianity’s finest legacy. Here I’ll note that, barring Runescape and NaNo, my Internet circles are overwhelmingly adult.
Why does it seem to work for us? What is our behavior getting us? What does all of this imply for me as a participant? As a Christian?
These are good questions.
[Teal deer: maybe you're in the parts of the Internet that don't suit you.]
There is no way I am going to be able to respond to everything you’ve said here–if nothing else, I need time to chew on it. But I have a few thoughts.
I wonder if the biggest difference in our experiences is that I’m very active on Tumblr and you’re not. I… also wonder what that says, that I maybe need to think about. That difference really affects how well I can respond to your points, especially regarding negativity and outrage.
Your comments on the desire for attention are thought-provoking; I don’t have an immediate response, although I think there’s more to be said on the topic. Like I said, I need time to chew on this.
More generally, there’s something that’s beginning to dawn on me as I read through everyone’s responses, both here and on LJ. There’s a general sense amongst commenters of nonconfrontation. One does one’s thing, one filters out what offends, and one keeps one’s peace. I see the appeal; this is one of the norms rendered quasi-necessary by a pluralistic society. But (like so many cultural norms) it’s actually pretty hollow. You remarked on Christianity’s willingness to police others, with disapproval–but every society, everywhere, at every time, polices others. One doesn’t think about it often because a pluralistic society depends on not thinking about it. But I am keenly aware, every time I open my browser, that there are things I must not ever say. I face social opprobrium, should I say those things–exactly as I would if I said certain things in church. The Internet polices its members already–and it seems to me that it’s legitimate to question the terms on which it does so.
That difference really affects how well I can respond to your points, especially regarding negativity and outrage.
Don’t feel the need to respond to all of them! That’s why I noted what circles I run in–if we’re having two different Internet experiences, no point in trying to reconcile them.