When I first ventured onto the internet two decades ago, I soon learned that a jargon was evolving to describe activity in cyberspace; one term that had been repurposed was the verb to lurk. Originally having a somewhat sinister hue (“to lie in wait, as in ambush”), the word now described the act of visiting a place on the web (or Usenet sites at that time) without leaving evidence of the act, such as a response. This new definition still stands, and aptly describes what most of us do at most of the websites we visit. Indeed, the little counter on my main page is the only sign I have of visitors to my humble outpost, other than notes from a handful of you (always appreciated!) and the other counter showing that my url has been shared a few dozen times (many thanks!). “Lurking” does not apply, however, to another activity which has flourished in recent times; I refer to the act of speaking out (usually with provocative intent) while at the same time disavowing one’s own words.
A generic example of this might be a posting on social media along the lines of “Only true idiots could think that things are fine just as they are. Just saying.” That two-word tagline is the giveaway: with “just saying,” the writer is trying to unring the bell, to say, “Hey, don’t blame me for what you just read, I’m only the guy at the keyboard.” Even more absurd is the opening line sometimes used: “I’m just going to put this out here.” Really? That statement expresses as much commitment as the guy ahead of you at the stoplight who empties his ashtray out the car window.
When “just saying” was becoming more common in writing and even in speech, I brought the phrase to the attention of one of my English classes. Imagine, I said, that you’re at home one peaceful day when suddenly your living room window shatters. When you go outside to investigate, you find your next-door neighbor sitting on his porch holding a rifle. His response when you complain: “I was just shooting.” While it might be harsh to compare words to bullets, the analogy is sound; you are responsible for anything that you “just put out there.” To act otherwise is not only intellectually dishonest, it sends readers the message that you can’t be relied upon for loyalty to your own words, let alone to anything else. And that is a bell that knells loud and long.
To be sure, there are times when someone posts a seemingly innocuous comment and finds that it triggers a flame war. And sometimes an ordinary discussion can escalate into vitriol with just a few responses. But the key here is that a speaker/writer/poster should own their words. I remember once noting to a Facebook friend that a recently posted item directly contradicted one from that same person the previous day. The response was that both were posted for the purpose of sitting back and watching the arguments fly, so to speak. When I then pointed out that that was a textbook case of trolling, the reply was “LOL,” quickly followed by “I don’t know whether you’re joking or not.”
Am I making too much of this? If you’re still reading, you probably don’t think so. And in an election year that has brought discourse to new depths of immaturity and incivility, I feel bound as a functioning 21st-Century human being to strive for verbal integrity and clarity. I’m willing to abide by the social contract of weighing the merits of ideas, rather than the merits of those who espouse them. But having said that, I also keep in mind that ideas originate and grow only through the effort of the people who champion them. Statements are never self-made, and words carry weight only if in turn someone shoulders the words themselves.
This is especially true when the intent is to attack. In the lore of Star Trek, one of the tenets of the Klingon culture is that it is dishonorable to kill without showing your face. The idea is that only a coward attacks with poison rather than, say a knife (or, better, a bat’leth). Likewise, a cloaked warship must make itself visible before firing weapons upon an enemy. Although, in the latter example, it could be simply a technological limitation that is rationalized to look like adherence to the honor code.
So, why do people engage in this stating and disowning of ideas? Aside from the few sociopaths who “want to watch the world burn,” I suspect that most people do this for the same reason as other passive-aggressive action: fear. The concept of being able to affect other people, even to inflict harm, without the risk of harm to oneself is a great temptation, especially to those who otherwise feel disempowered. Think of road rage. Or think (if you must) of the vile, hateful statements that fester in the comment sections of millions of websites. When people can protect themselves with a fake name and avatar, or a ton of glass and steel, they sometimes let their baser natures take control and try to reign supreme for a few miles or a comment thread. And anyone who challenges them risks getting flattened and abandoned for the buzzards. However, most social media (and actual live conversation) prevent the armor of anonymity, and so some people resort to throwing out their words and slamming the door, as it were. As if waiting and accepting feedback for statements takes courage.
Maybe it does. We are afraid, not without cause, that information about us will be retrieved on line somehow and used for nefarious purposes. But fear of exposure though technology didn’t start with the internet. I remember about three decades ago, when a local radio station had recently converted to a listener call-in format, that a show host had to explain patiently to a caller that she did not have a right to, as she put it, “free speech without rebuttal.” She was upset, even shocked, that other people had openly disagreed with what she had to say on some subject, and felt disrespected by those callers and by the radio station itself. It never occurred to her that free speech extends to everyone in all directions.
Living in society is basically difficult, one of many reasons being that it is harder to build bridges than it is to burn them. Literally and figuratively, a certain amount of toughness is necessary for survival. Indeed, in many professions (politics and education come to mind) a thick skin is practically a job requirement. Diplomacy has to be a conscious effort. I’m proud to say that my alma mater, the University of Arizona, is a sponsor of the National Institute for Civil Discourse. The fact that such an organization even needs to exist could be seen as a sad sign of the times. But I prefer to see it as an expression of humanity striving not to eliminate differences, but to acknowledge them while reaching out, finding common ground, and celebrating ideas and the people who express them.
And I’m not just saying that.
#justsaying #trolling #civildiscourse
