now presenting: a rant.

Part One: The Crusades

The Crusades were a series of “holy wars'' between 1095 and 1291 that were initiated, supported, and sometimes directed by the Latin Christian Church. A misunderstanding I had prior to researching this topic was that The Crusades began as the result of religious panic. However, the truth is it was largely Roman nationalistic pride masquerading as religious zealotry. Roman citizens were required to fight for their country, and at this time the Romans in Byzantine had been under growing pressure from the expanding Seljuk kingdom. The Peace and Truce of God movement, led by the Catholic Church had managed to greatly reduce fighting in the area, but with growing pressure on their national identity, the Romans turned to the doctrine of ‘holy’ or ‘just’ war proposed by 4th Century theologian, Saint Augustine. In his doctrine, he proposed that while ‘aggressive war’ was sinful, war could be justified if it was proclaimed by a legitimate authority, was defensive or for the recovery of land, and without excessive violence. So, when the Seljuk’s seized Jerusalem and pilgrims from Byzantine reported the oppression of Christians, the Byzantines used this as justification for retaliation and declared the First Crusade as a war justified by God and supported by the Church. Several more Crusades followed, spurred on by imperialism shrouded in the mystery of preserving and ‘taking back the holy land’.

This is truly confusing, as the holy land had not gone anywhere.

A lot of the Crusades were utter failures, with the only lasting impact being mass destruction, loss of lives, and the propagation of a religious battle between Christians and Muslims.

Consensus stands that there are parallels to be drawn from the crusades to the current political climate in Palestine as well as the right-wing and extremist beliefs that Christianity and Islam are at odds, religious and demographic threats to each other, further fueling the belief that there is justification for violence in the name of God.

It is worth noting that: it is the people, the ones who will be forced to fight and suffer, that hold on tight to this religious licence. For them, that was the true battle, the true purpose of The Crusades. This makes them easy to direct by the larger system, the same larger system that is driven not by religious belief but imperialism. They are people, doing violence to other people, in the name of God and Good.

Anyway. This essay is about social media.

Breathe. The rant is just starting.

Part Two: Social Media!

Like it or not, if you're reading this, chances are social media is practically inseparable from the fabric of your being. You might have your favourite ones as well as a few rules around using it, but ultimately it is critical to how we conduct business, relationships, and global communication. If you were to lose your Instagram or Twitter or Snapchat account, you would undoubtedly feel like a small part of you died. It might seem silly - you can always make a new account and just start again. But the distress you'd feel, that little death, is psychologically real. We have been so tightly bound to social media and the internet, that our brains can no longer cleanly discern the world under your screen as fake. Despite it being separate from your being, the things that happen online are real. You can't see them, but the people are real. The emotions you feel when you read an irritating tweet or see a cute cat are real. As such, your social media is as much you, as your arm or head or leg is - even if you're mysterious and never post pictures of yourself.

This, in my opinion, is not inherently terrible. I have met amazing people and received amazing opportunities through Twitter. It is nice that I have a place where I experience relationships more passively, when the troubles get bad and I don't leave my room for days. 

But problems start to arise when we consider that social media is not an altruistic project. Servers and cables cost money, and so the platforms had to figure out how to recoup that money. Maybe, they could even make some profit!

Listening to Frances Haugen’s testimony against Facebook is terrifying, not because she reveals that big tech companies care more about profit than people. That much is par for the course. We live in hell after all. It's terrifying because of the way in which she painfully describes how machine learning algorithms are curating social media experiences that are psychologically dangerous, while appearing benign and natural. Frances used to work in Facebook as a Product Manager in the Civic Integrity team. She took this job after someone in her life was radicalised by misinformation. Obviously, she strongly believed that social media platforms had a big responsibility to create spaces that do not commercialise communication. So after Facebook dissolved their civic integrity team following the 2020 elections, she said fuck you very much and became a whistleblower. She’s an absolute badass. She didn’t stop there too - she went on to tackle big tech across the world, and is still fighting hard to create legislation that forces tech companies to take content moderation seriously. Thanks to her commitment to never working in silicon valley again, we now understand a little more about how social media algorithms work.

These algorithms have a simple directive: to maintain your attention as long as possible. That's how you get advertisers to give you the big bucks. An algorithm is the closest thing you can get to cold logic, and in its wisdom it rightfully realised that the things that generate the most attention are intensely emotional. Programs do not and cannot care about your well-being, so you'll continue to get recommended as much stimulating content as you ask for, attempting to keep you in a heightened state. You will be shoved down rabbit holes, deeper and deeper, until you're fully assimilated into a content bucket and categorised. Then it repeats the same strategy for everyone else.

The end result is, social media has become a slot machine. An addictive cycle of content™ designed to trigger strong emotions so you stare at your screen longer, all so they can show you several ads for things you definitely should buy.

Take a deep breath in. Take a deep breath out. Unclench your jaw.

Part Three: Capitalism, Performance, and Discourse

“[Neoliberalism requires] the trope of individual responsibility as motivating discourse.”

Loïc Wacquant, 2012

“Collaboration is the driving force of human ingenuity. And as we discussed, the cultural construct of lone artistic genius is a historical construct.”

Alexander Avila, 2023

Fact: The impetus for the creation of the internet, and eventually the creation of social media services, was a desire for seamless global communication. 

Certainly, that is what speaking to any researcher that worked on building this complex network of fibre optics, servers, and cables would reveal. 

Often, when taking a retroactive look at mankind’s ingenuity, we default to the view that innovation is forged in silos, outside the influence of greater communal, societal and economic pressures. I speculate that we do this for two reasons. 

(1), It is a natural reaction to capitalism. The concept of community, the idea that things are better achieved through altruistic collaboration is naturally at odds with late-stage capitalism. There is less time for communal effort, for commitment to a cause and dream, when you have to pay rent. When you have to look out for you. You, under capitalism, is the only thing that matters. And we're surrounded by examples - the Bezoses, and Musks and Zuckerbergs - individual geniuses that carved giant industries into public consciousness. The people we should aim to be. And so, when we think about innovation, we think about individuals and not the communities behind them or the milieu that informed their growth. 

(2) I also understand it as a form of cope. We, as people with dreams, understand what it means to incubate an idea, tend to it carefully, pour our energy and time into it, until it is ready to be presented to the world. And we believe that when it is good enough and it is released into the world, we’ll be rightly lauded for our genius. Of course, our skill will be instantly recognised. We will become household names like the greats. We have romanticised the neoliberal dream of merit. We reminisce to the examples we’ve been given, the times when artists were artists and Michelangelo carved the Statue of David. Or we invoke Tesla’s name - the patron saint for scientists with big ideas, yearning for recognition for their efforts. 

Ultimately, this approach to sterilising achievement, washing off the factors that played a part, is reductive because it prevents us from understanding the extent to which capital has historically dictated what is valuable. Michelangelo was paid 400 florins ($400,000 in 2022) for the Statue of David and 3,000 ducats (approximately $600,000 in gold in 2021) because Florence in the 15th and 16th century deeply valued artistic beauty. Tesla’s dream of wireless and free transmission of energy was crushed when he ran out of funding - he was an inventor at a time that incentivised patent races and the ‘first to market’ craze as proof of an idea’s validity. He famously derided the famous industrialists at the time as “ignorant, unimaginative people, consumed by self-interest.”

So to correct the ‘fact’ mentioned earlier, I think the creation of the internet can better be understood as (1) scientists working on a dream of uniting the world with a global communication system and (2) the businesses that fund those scientists searching for the best way to profit from this new technology. And (2) supersedes (1). It is not a coincidence that the dot com bubble burst seven years and a month after the Internet became public domain in April, 1993.

Thus it is not surprising that the objective of social media is first to make money, and then maybe support communication. 

And so this begs the question, what is our role on social media if it's objective is to yield income? 

The answer is simple. We are to become performers. All you can really do on the internet is perform. The human experience is largely unremarkable and mundane, but that does not make for good content. It does not generate clicks. Performance, however, with its heightened nature in the extremes, is really good at pulling attention and creating engagement. It keeps the algorithm spinning. 

And so we all become performers, individual crusaders, united by the shared beliefs of whatever faction we pledge allegiance. We have our personal steadfast beliefs, and thanks to social media, we can locate those for whom those beliefs are shared. But more importantly, we can also see those for whom our beliefs are evil. And as individuals in this system, we have the responsibility to combat opposing viewpoints. Society is corrupt and it is our singular job to fix it. Not the government, not financial institutions, not tech companies. It all falls on us to tackle societal rot. But capitalism demands we do it alone, in silos. You can't go to work everyday and still have energy for much else. So you login and play your part by engaging in discourse.

The term discourse typically refers to debate. Online, however, the term has been abstracted into ideological screaming matches, clapbacks, callouts, and other forms of trending engagement that spread topics across the internet, viral, a virus, infecting more and more people with the same fervent sense of duty. We keep the algorithm spinning because we want to do what seems right to us, and the only tools we have are a keypad and an internet connection.

Breathe. Touch some grass. Come back in five minutes. It’ll still be here.

Part Four: The Human Condition, or The System is Broken and We All Want to Fix It

In an article for The Paris Review titled ‘What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men’, Claire Dederer wrote this masterpiece:

“In everyday deed and thought, I’m a decent-enough human. But I’m something else as well, something vaguely resembling a, well, monster. The Victorians understood this feeling; it’s why they gave us the stark bifurcations of Dorian Gray, of Jekyll and Hyde. I suppose this is the human condition, this sneaking suspicion of our own badness. It lies at the heart of our fascination with people who do awful things. Something in us—in me—chimes to that awfulness, recognizes it in myself, is horrified by that recognition, and then thrills to the drama of loudly denouncing the monster in question.

The psychic theater [sic] of the public condemnation of monsters can be seen as a kind of elaborate misdirection: nothing to see here. I’m no monster. Meanwhile, hey, you might want to take a closer look at that guy over there.”

This thought, expertly composed by Claire, is one I have had bouncing around my head for years, like a DVD logo on an idle CRT. While I can not speak for everyone, I contend that this latent fear of our own potential badness is something that plagues most. 

I am terrified of offending. I love people and I love humanity and I love doing good in people's lives. I want to be seen as a person who respects and does right by others. So the idea that I could be bad is an enduring anxiety. I very often revisit my actions to consider their effects. I re-examine my own biases often, both inherited and groomed. I take as many active steps as I can to ensure people can see what I stand for and understand that I am always striving to be a good and more understanding person. In fact, I second-guessed every line in this essay, frantically, to avoid unintentional harm in some way that I can not foresee.

And so I can see how easy it is to participate in the public theatre of condemnation to both indicate my politics and shield the parts of myself I'm unsure about, lest I too sin.

I can only imagine, if this is true for my political alignment, then I suspect it rings true for my theoretical opponents. Perhaps, before they called me a filthy commie or soylib, they briefly flirted with the idea that I was not evil. Perhaps, it even crossed their minds that I am just a person that under different circumstances, they would quite like. But, to them, giving into this momentary thought would be a dog whistle. It would ultimately attract the ire of their like minded peers. They would be seen as a monster that turned their back on their own community. And so they'll call me whatever name they chose, to say “Look over here at this person we don't agree with!”

The only bi-partisan truth is that everyone thinks society is crumbling. The most common bi-partisan lie is that we should all be able to agree on the solution. And so we argue incessantly online, valiantly fighting to rid the world of its evil, one hoping to overcome the other, or at least shout louder.

Breathe. We’re almost done.

Part Five: Patient Conversation for Want of Revolution or What I'm Talking About When I Talk About Community

“Injecting venom into your online interaction does not help you support the victim, nor does it help take power away from the accused. All it does is stress YOU out.”

Unpoetic Justice, 2023

“Our pop-cultural hellscape co-opted the language of social justice and re-directed it towards politically ineffective, personal, pseudo-spiritual awakenings.”

Alexander Avila, 2023

It is very well known that the United States handled the AIDs Crisis in the 80s terribly. By the end of 1984, the virus had infected around 7,700 people and killed over 3,500. Yet, despite this real and present danger, US President and Neoliberalism personified, Ronald Reagan did not address the crisis until 1984. The Centre for Disease Centre, dawdled even worse, finally developing an AIDS prevention plan, spearheaded by epidemiologist Dr. Donald Francis. Washington rejected it. Donald, a fucking hero, would eventually recount that Dr. John Bennett, the CDC's central coordinator for AIDS and the AIDS Task Force chairman, told him: "Don, they rejected the plan. They said, 'Look pretty and do as little as you can.'"

This story has always appalled me. The government’s callous indifference was a weeping sore. People died, many not understanding the disease that took their lives, while those elected to do something twiddled their thumbs. They were shielding themselves in the mysteries of holiness and propriety and righteousness, shaking their heads while the gays died. Some called it divine punishment. And when the heat of protests lit a fire under the administration and someone did TRY to do something about it, they turned and said ‘Look pretty and do as little as you can.’

Look pretty and do as little as you can.

People flooded the streets demanding help, support, vengeance, for blood that did not need to be spilt. And Washington, in response, told the people trying to do something about it - Look pretty and do as little as you can.

Look pretty. Be pretty. Look like you’re doing something. Let them believe you. Let them see your performance of empathy, the tears you wipe when you visit the umpteenth exhibition by a dying artist mourning the dead. Shout in support when Larry Kramer climbs on stage and screams “PLAGUE! WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING PLAGUE”. But don’t you dare actually do anything. Don’t you dare stop performing. Don’t you dare side with the community.

Earlier, I mentioned the concept of community being at odds with late-stage capitalism. There's no place more exemplary of this than social media. We've already discussed how social media works - the dopamine-fueled gamification of our addled attention spans and souls in order to generate clicks. And it is well understood that what gets the most attention online is offensive or nonsensical content. 

Case in point: Elon started giving cheques for tweets and Twitter quickly devolved into a cesspool filled with intentionally inflammatory content and clickbait. Well, more than it already was. 

Engagement has never meant useful discussion. Even before Elon started giving out cheques worth a single drunk night on UberEats, the search for social capital by performers had made it a useless buzzword to everyone but advertisers. All it means is a fraction of your attention span, that second it takes for you to click, read, vex, and then reply. 

If you're funny or biting or eloquent enough, your own interaction grows legs, drawing others to contribute their attention spans, like flies settling on a rotting carcass.

This is not communication. In fact, it is completely antithetical to communication. Communication is centred on the principle that both parties, regardless of outcome, have effectively understood each other. I argue that no true communication can happen on a platform wherein you (1) are the product, (2) are limited in language and freedom of expression, (3) are uncertain if the person you're addressing is being sincere, (4) do not know anything about this person's identity, story, or background, and (5) are unsure if it even is a real person (Thanks OpenAI! I hate it!). 

Engaging in this sort of inflammatory discourse is empty performance. It is yelling into a void, listening for echoes, and being offended when you hear none.

Have you ever engaged with someone who seemed intentionally stubborn, delving into prolonged arguments when you sincerely believe the truth to be apparent? 

If you have, let me ask you this. Would you beat up a child because they've done something wrong?

There’s an anecdote from a CJ the X video essay (honestly, just binge their channel), in which they mention: when dealing with a petulant child, the answer is not to shout or fight. All this tells the child is that the way they’re acting is worth a reaction. Your response should be more sincere, confronting the child with the simple understanding that what they, a human being, is doing to you, another human being, is not okay and needs to stop.

In his two hour evisceration of Bo Burnham’s Inside, CJ the X maintained the idea that the truth of the online experience is that someone will think of you as evil, no matter what you believe. I have witnessed this first hand on my timeline, benign tweets spun into longer and longer threads, assuring that someone will eventually be called Hitler, a la Godwin’s law. It is the gradual death of nuance, sincerity, and community in favour of performance and ironic detachment. We have neatly splintered society into factions, each parading its own politics while denouncing everyone else as obviously evil. We are partaking in modern day crusades, driven to righteous frenzy by churches and schools of thought, desperate to rid the internet of all these infidels, these sick people that refuse to be aligned in thought. We are somehow performing the miracle of embracing individuality, accepting that we are to look after ourselves only, while simultaneously deriding individual thought as corrupt and corrupting. 

I've often quipped, offhand, that the only real solution to the unique sickness that plagues our society is revolution. But revolution is bloody and I'm fundamentally against violence as a tool for change. So what can be done when we need revolutionary change, but are unwilling to draw blood.

An exercise I often conduct with some of my friends is patient, slow conversation. Not discourse. We do not enter conversations with the objective of emerging victorious, converting non-believers, or basking in our shared morality. We instead tackle these big topics, big ideas, in microcosms, shrinking them into easily digestible ideas that better resonate with our shared humanity. Because that's the thing. We all think differently, but we're also all human and a large majority of the time, there exists a fundamental human experience for which all of us, regardless of our politics, can empathise. Over time, we have been able to settle on fundamental human truths that supersede the nitty-gritty details of our politics. These truths are a bedrock for us to build more difficult and more pertinent conversations, without collapsing into accusatory, egotistical, and individualistic behaviour. We have come to understand that some views might not change, but they could soften and that's a start.

Patient conversation is a gateway, an opportunity to deeper and more holistic understanding of not only the issues that plague society, but the people who uncritically engage with these issues. A better understanding of why people default to certain harmful patterns of thinking allows us to then craft solutions that are more effective, more enduring, and better for the unity of society.

Of course, there are people for whom patient conversation is an obstruction. These performers, across political and ideological aisles, are more incentivised by the dopamine rush of engaging in quick-fire online interactions than the slower and more intimate connection they could feel with humanity. They are unrepentant, thoroughly immersed in the faction they’ve sworn allegiance to that they cannot see life for what it is. They are like children with a new toy, loud, obnoxious. They will react to sincerity with hostility, intentionally misunderstand well thought out points, all the while proclaiming themselves a supreme intellect on whatever matter is being discussed. 

My advice to you, when confronted with this, is to logout. You wouldn’t waste time arguing with a child. Why conduct the same exercise willingly online? Why allow the spread of information you find deleterious by engaging in it further? There is a real and full world outside, filled with people you do know. People you can have more patient, more productive conversations with.

This is important because you need to remember that community is important. You are not an individual. No matter how much our manufactured consent to this capitalist, neo-liberal system is forced on you, it is important to remember you are not an individual fighting the collapse of the world alone from behind a screen. You belong to a larger community. There are people for whom your fears are just as real and you will not be able to effect any change until you attempt genuine community powered action powered through patient conversation. The system, and all the parts that make it, are incentivised to produce capital. For that to work, it is key that they convince you that you're an individual striving for that same mythical success that millionaires and billionaires have. You should reject that framing. They're attempting to turn you into a crusader, a zealot engaged in a holy war, while the system churns on. They’re asking you to look pretty and do as little as possible.

The crusades were a failure because the church was inept, yes. But they were also a failure because the evil they sought to rid from the “holy land” did not exist. The evil many lost their lives fighting for were just other people. All violence is what people do to people. Even now, the evils we are attempting to solve by engaging in discourse do not exist on the internet. They exist in real life. There are real problems happening to real people in the real world. Problems in patterns, a mosaic of human suffering caused by systems, the same systems that have us glued to our phones, shouting into the void. 

The problem is what people are doing to people. 

We cannot solve that online. 

You are not an individual. You are more than a phone and an internet connection. Your contribution to society cannot end with speaking out. Your critiques need to be systemic. And the only solution is community and patient conversation.

Amazing things have been achieved through community. Look at Stonewall. Look at Selma. Look at the relentless work done by protesters during the AIDS crisis. I sincerely believe we can do even more.

The crusades were justified not by the bloodshed of innocents, but by the conviction of the attackers. Do you want to be a crusader, performing relentlessly without substance? Or do you want to foster a community that has a chance to build gradual and well informed change?