Back then I was in my late teens and early twenties; and I had developed a case of\u00a0militant atheism<\/em>.<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t pretty.<\/p>\n For the most part, my life looked normal. But once I stepped inside an internet chatroom: look out.<\/em>\u00a0 As a relatively newly converted atheist, I was ready to take on the power structures that had oppressed my people for centuries.<\/p>\n It turns out, I was also facing what I would later find out was clinical depression. So I was unhappy. But, as an atheist, I thought perhaps that unhappiness was due to historical oppression from Christians.<\/p>\n So I, often with some friends, burst into chatrooms with Christians to tell them all how wrong they were about things; to challenge them, to disrupt their cozy afternoons. We would test their knowledge of religious history, insult them a bit here and there if they didn\u2019t respond, and play the victim if they met our rudeness with their own.<\/p>\n We maybe thought we were doing the world a favor. And we were right \u2013 facts checked \u2013 or were \u201conly asking questions.\u201d<\/p>\n But eventually it became clear: we were being jerks.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure if the mid-Bush to late-Obama years saw an actual decrease in online jerky behavior, or if my Buddhist<\/a> practice, grad school, and travels just took my mind elsewhere. But it seems to have returned in full force.<\/strong><\/p>\n Earlier this month, Zaid Jilani and Jeremy Adam Smith wrote for UC Berkeley\u2019s Greater Good blog on What\u2019s Driving Political Violence in America?<\/a>\u00a0They cite a paper by Lilliana Mason and Nathan Kalmoe called \u201cLethal Mass Partisanship<\/a>,\u201d writing:<\/p>\n With data from two different national surveys, they found that 24 percent of Republicans and 17 percent of Democrats believe that it is occasionally acceptable to send threatening messages to public officials. Fifteen percent of Republicans and 20 percent of Democrats agree that the country would be better if large numbers of opposing partisans in the public today \u201cjust died,\u201d which the authors call a \u201cshockingly brutal sentiment.\u201d Nine percent of both Democrats and Republicans agree that violence would be acceptable if their opponents won the 2020 presidential election.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n And, perhaps surprisingly to many, they found that \u201cDemographic categories such as gender, age, and education didn\u2019t matter. Contrary to what some liberals might expect, in these surveys positive feelings towards President Trump didn\u2019t predict more violent attitudes.\u201d<\/p>\n One key trait that united violent attitudes was strong identification with a party. As people make their party more and more a factor of their identity, they become more deeply embedded in \u2018othering\u2019 those on the outside.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n This helps explain my fervor as a new atheist. It became\u00a0who I was<\/em>.<\/p>\n It also explains one of the reasons for my falling out: constant in-fighting. As my friends and I fell down the rabbit-hole of deeply identifying with our positions, we found differences in one another intolerable. Agnostics, once on our side<\/em>, were cast out as failures. Anyone espousing anything remotely \u201cspiritual\u201d was subject to quick attack. And then there were those who suggested, \u201chey, maybe we\u2019re going too far here?\u201d and were similarly told off.<\/p>\n On the philosophy blog Daily<\/em>\u00a0Nous<\/em>, Justin Weinberg wrote last month about a number of philosophers stepping off of twitter<\/a> due to the declining level of discourse there. He cites the words of Kate Manne of Cornell who writes, \u201cI will deactivate my twitter account shortly. Thank you so much to all of you who keep fighting. I just can\u2019t anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n Similarly, Brian Earp of Yale\/Oxford writes, \u201cFolks, I think I\u2019ll step away from twitter for a while. The norms of accepted discourse even among academics seem to allow for a degree of meanspiritedness, mockery, point scoring, snideness, etc it\u2019s taken its toll. I\u2019ve met a lot of really kind people on here. Wish you all well\u201d.<\/p>\n And this brings us back to today, where I\u2019ve seen a relatively sharp rise in netizen nastiness. Not only toward the \u2018other side\u2019 but also a fair amount of intense internal fighting. Many friends have written or talked about just leaving social media altogether.<\/p>\n Others are seeking ways to nudge the \u2018system\u2019 in a compassionate<\/em> direction. Here are three suggestions:<\/p>\n This comes from Justin Weinberg\u2019s article<\/a>:<\/p>\n This month Buddhistdoor View published an excellent editorial addressing the problem of\u00a0Netizen Nastiness<\/em><\/a> (which is where I\u2019m borrowing the phrase in my own title from). First, recognize that \u2018trolls\u2019 go after easy targets. Sometimes that is vulnerable people, sometimes it\u2019s celebrities or academics who feel a responsibility to respond. Sometimes it\u2019s just \u2018nice people\u2019:<\/p>\n As the Internet has become more central in our everyday lives, confrontational comments on discussion forums have become more and more common. Trolls send targeted insults and threats to (easy targets?) vulnerable people, celebrities, and public figures.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Second, see the \u2018trolls\u2019 for who they are: perhaps wounded individuals themselves, perhaps harbouring trauma from their past, perhaps depressed. This doesn\u2019t excuse their actions, but it helps us understand and respond more with concern than a desire to retaliate.<\/p>\n There is also the need to keep sight of the subjectivity of the insulter, even if they have lost sight of ours. People lash out because of something that has happened, perhaps deep in the past. We may never know what that was. As our columnist\u00a0Shveitta Sharma has argued, \u201cA person in pain is capable of sharing only pain. The trolls also need our empathy, as they are truly hurting. They have no way of expressing their pain except through making others experience the same pain. The next time you encounter a nasty comment, know that it was written by someone in extreme pain; send them love and compassion in return.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n I floated the idea last week on facebook of treating my facebook timeline like my front porch<\/strong>: seeing all friends (and even the public often enough) as welcome to stop by and, if you want, to leave comments. But, as it\u2019s my porch and comments stick around, I might remove some here or there to keep up the aesthetic.<\/p>\n Sometimes I might enjoy some spirited debate on the page (porch), \u201cKamala\/Beto 2020!\u201d<\/p>\n Other times I aim to spur discussion on a particular topic and will remove off-topic comments or spurious nitpicking. Often I will remove on-topic comments that come across as \u2018toss away\u2019 negativity or snideness or meanspiritedness.<\/p>\n Most importantly, I want people to know not to take it personally. Maybe I\u2019m feeling a bit triggered myself (I\u2019ve certainly responded to some comments on social media unkindly, and I regret that knowing that I could have just walked away). Perhaps I\u2019m also concerned about you and don\u2019t want to feed your apparent anger or reactivity. Perhaps I just feel like we\u2019re not engaging on a realistic person-to-person level, as is so common on social media. As Gesshin Greenwood wrote last month<\/a>, \u201cSocial media is a great way to access and spread information, but it is rarely an effective way to engage in sensitive political or personal discussions.\u201d<\/p>\n Lastly, for the rare person who insists on confrontation, there is \u2018blocking\u2019. This is setting boundaries; something that convert Buddhists and academics can be bad at in our attempts to be \u201copen to all new ideas\u201d and compassionate to all. Remember, we must be compassionate to ourselves first. And often, blocking out one or two of the loud, confrontational people in a room or forum helps allow the quieter, kinder voices to find their place.<\/p>\n My plan for now is this: I\u2019ll stay online, stay engaged, stay compassionate, keep practicing radical vulnerability online<\/a> (another of Gesshin Greenwood\u2019s suggestions). But I\u2019ll curate conversations on my social media. And I\u2019ll respect others who do so as well, asking myself when I comment on other people\u2019s posts: is this helpful, true, kind, and timely?<\/p>\n Do you find benefit in this? Remember the internet of the late \u201990s and early 2000s? Before Facebook, before Twitter? Back then I was in my late teens and early twenties; and I had developed a case of\u00a0militant atheism. It wasn\u2019t pretty. For the most part, my life looked normal. But once I stepped inside an internet chatroom: look out.\u00a0 As […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":118,"featured_media":8304,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,3,27,28],"tags":[84,753,750],"class_list":["post-8301","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-academia","category-happiness","category-politics","category-technology","tag-compassion","tag-right-speech","tag-social-media"],"yoast_head":"\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/83\/2018\/11\/andre-hunter-350301-unsplash.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nSocial Media in an age of Trump<\/h2>\n
Over-Identification<\/h3>\n
Right Speech: Compassionate Social Media Use<\/h2>\n
Number One: rules of engagement<\/h3>\n
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Number Two: see it as it is<\/h3>\n
Number Three: know thyself and set boundaries<\/h3>\n
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