To be honest I haven't been involved in the down and dirty business of political work, the attempts at coalition building, the interminable meetings, the small but real accomplishments, for years. My work like that pretty much stopped once I went off to graduate school in 1989. And even though I work for a lgbt advocacy organization these days, I don't think of myself as a political activist any more. I'm more of a problem solver and analyst, occasional writer.
Before that though, I lived in Seattle and was an active member of the lgbt (mainly lesbian) community. I served on non-profit boards. I worked with the local black nationalist caucus as a tutor and helped to produce a couple of radio shows. I was a member of Tilth, involved with the natural foods movement in the Pacific Northwest largely because of my job in a owner-operated natural foods warehouse. That latter also meant that for years I spent every Thursday afternoon in management meetings with the whole staff. That could mean more than 15 women. That meant really bad and really good meetings and I learned a lot from doing all of this.
So how does this relate to the recent online incidents?
The same dynamics are in play. The same engaged and creative energies. The same self-regarding, destructive bullshit. How does this all change when we're individuals typing away at keyboards scattered across the globe rather than staring at each other across a too-small or too-large room?
One important factor is the nature of web-reading. Most people read blogs for entertaining content. I know, I know. There are a number of studies that show that many people, especially those under forty or so, are getting their news from the internet. But tell me that they don't read it as entertaining information. There are lots of people proud to get their news from John Stewart. He's a funny, clever man, but he's no journalist and would be the first to tell you so. People reading different websites, especially blogs, are looking for information, but they are also looking for something to distract them at work, during their commute, at home. That has meant, and continues to mean, that performance is more highly regarded than content.
Also, in the interactive comments of blog threads, participants are also rewarded for their performances. This is why trolls cause blogs to rack up huge comment counts, even though everyone (except the terminally naive) knows that trolls are not about to change their minds about anything. But a snappy, cogent, or brutal put-down of a troll will get a writer a whole chorus of virtual, verbal pats on the back.
And those pats feel good.
I've gotten the same nice glow when I've posted a comment and someone noticed it. It's human. We want to be noticed. We want to be liked. And one of the easiest ways to do this online is to savage someone. Another way to be noticed is to write a post full of emotion. It's as though a nakedly emotional post will get adherents because the emotional current makes the content feel "realer" to a reader.
Put three posts side by side. Make A a calmly argued, logically structured, even beautiful essay. Make B a full on emotional diatribe, making sure to keep it somewhat coherent. It can't read as flat-out insane. Make C a sardonic, clever piece of wordplay that manages to make any opponents look like fools. How will they rank? Well based on my experience C will get the most attention, B next and A will come in a sorry last.
Maybe I'm cynical, but I don't think I'm wrong.
What does this have to do with online political work? Well, take an audience that's predisposed to regard the medium as entertainment and primed with the dynamics I've described and it's a recipe for disaster. The behaviors that lead to the worst real-world meetings are the following:
- Rigidity
- Insecurity
- Loud, Obstinate Ignorance
- Concealed Motives
- Poor Faith Arguments
- Unexamined Motives
But thinking through your own reactions takes training and it takes time. And time is at a premium in a online discussion. This is another factor that can make online collaborative work so difficult, if not impossible. In the real world, it takes ages to work out a coalition, especially if you're bringing together people who haven't worked together before, who have reason to distrust each other. But in an online discussion, you have to hit it quick or the moment will have passed you by. That wonderful thing you were going to say loses its context and relevance. It will disappear without an answer, without an echo, without a sound. So there's every incentive to type fast, to type first thing that comes to mind, to type the words that will have the greatest impact.
You could type something perfect, but the odds are against it.
You'll probably type what you feel not what you could have thought if you had a day or so. You'll probably type out of your reactions rather than your principles. And you'll type for your audience, wanting to please, instruct, anger, enlighten, and entertain.
You're going to give a performance.
But a lot of political activism is not performance (though you'll hardly know it in an election year). Coalitions depend on discussions to make decisions that everyone can live with (and this doesn't have to mean concessions). It's carrying out the tasks that have to get done. It's doing all of this because something real is at stake.
Online, the stakes are not so clear. The stakeholders are a shifting, amorphous crowd of mainly strangers. Maybe we do such a poor job of this because, really, there's nothing to lose.
