Thoughts On Social Media and Doubt

It is, of course, old news that social media is no place for most serious discourse. Comment-section or reply fights are often vitriolic, intended to score points with allies who already agree rather than to actively listen to, understand, and counter other perspectives. Algorithms reward certainty, extreme positions, and provocation rather than thoughtfulness, qualification, and mitigation. And mistakes or deliberate misinformation are easier than ever to share publicly but orders of magnitude harder to correct.

I think that most of us, being only human, know and see this much better when we’re looking at accounts that post from perspectives we disagree with. We see outrageous claims or stances from “the other side” and wonder how anyone can believe such extreme garbage. After all, it’s so easy to think of counterexamples, evidence that disproves implied sweeping factual claims, and important ethical principles that contradict the poster’s position.

I also think that, given the affordances of the social-media environment to harass people on- and offline, it makes sense that many people on various sides of various issues have to, for their own protection, assume bad faith and/or malice on the part of anyone who confronts or questions them. The design of most social media makes it very, very easy to waste a lot of someone else’s time while taking barely any of your own, or to find ways to hurt people without investing resources or risking consequences. Of course people are going to be further incentivized to take positions like “if you disagree with me, unfollow, and, by the way, you’re on the side of [extreme terrible thing like abuse, mass murder, enslavement, etc.]” if responders committed to mutual respect and consideration for opponents’ wellbeing are outnumbered by people whose goal is to score rhetorical “points” in public by humiliating, tormenting, and/or angering the loudest voices who disagree with them.

Honestly, it’s easy to buy into your “own side’s” version of the rhetoric that to question a moral position that affects people’s lives is a form of unethical and harmful attack, especially if the position doesn’t affect your own life. I often let myself believe it. Part of that is my own inclination to believe arguments that tell me I’m a bad person more than arguments that tell me I’m good or just not-so-bad; that way, my brain chemicals like to persuade me, I can be sure that I’m not biased by my own ego and/or I can get “ahead” of the emotional pain by forcing myself through the worst version of reality.

The other part is agreeing that, yes, sometimes questioning can be inappropriate. Putting the onus on marginalized communities and/or those suffering violence to justify why they are human beings and deserve to be treated as such is, at best, exhausting for people who already have a lot to shoulder. Insisting that someone prove publicly that they are a person with feelings that matter is an emotional attack! There are many ways to insult or hurt a person with a question, even one posed with the best of intentions.

Nevertheless, the more I think about it, the more I think that because the social-media environment conflates different kinds of questioning and their consequences–and sort of has to, based on how it works!–we lose the valuable ability to question for understanding and mutual arrival at truth.

And, hey, that’s probably the most desirable outcome when using this technology; it’s a hyper-public platform where the potential for harm is just too great! Not to mention that it’s designed to reward attacks in the form of questions–pain and outrage boost “engagement,” and corporate profits love that stuff!

Likewise, there are other environments in which even well intentioned questions on certain matters can be inappropriate. Among other reasons, if a person has no choice but to engage in a particular environment (like a workplace or school), even questions that come from genuine respect and curiosity can levy an emotional toll on someone who finds themselves having to justify their beliefs or explain their experience again and again.

But neither of these cases in which questioning serious matters is inappropriate means that such questions are always inappropriate. On the contrary, if something is serious, doesn’t that make it even more important to understand it fully and clearly? If the consequences are important, doesn’t it make more sense that we should strive to learn what we can and address, not suppress, our doubts?

I had a minor epiphany–a tiny Lite-Brite-size bulb of understanding, let’s say–when I realized that I was treating non-religious ethical assertions in a different way than I was treating religious ones. One of the things that turned me away from some elements of organized religion was its restrictions on questioning key articles of faith. I felt strongly that I can’t be expected to believe such important claims about the world if I’m not allowed to try to justify them to myself.

I still feel that way. But if that’s so, why am I so hard on myself for sometimes wanting to know more before I can agree with ethical or political positions on subjects that are very important to me, like justice and equity? Why am I once again accepting that doubt, in and of itself and not because of the ways I might behave if I have it, is wrong? Sheesh, I’ve even started to think of the social internet as the all-seeing, all-knowing, inherently moral judge–the way I was taught to think of God.

Starting as children, we base our ideology on those of people around us, whether by absorbing them or reacting against them, but we hope that part of adulthood is taking responsibility for how we approach the world. I don’t want to offload my moral decisions onto someone else, or even onto the “whole bunch of someone elses” online discourse makes possible.

I’d like to pivot to thinking of questioning ethical prescriptions not as a transgression but as… well, as being similar to an activity I enjoy: shadowboxing. Like shadowboxing, questioning is most beneficial when we’re willing to challenge ourselves. Like shadowboxing, questioning has to be done mindfully of the people around us, because we can cause harm if we’re careless. And, like shadowboxing, questioning ultimately makes us stronger.

Shadowboxing is also something that we do on our own, with willing partners who have similar goals, or with the help of online resources from people who have purposely posted content aimed at assisting. It’s not something that we need the ability to do everywhere, all the time. Similarly, we don’t need to demand answers from the whole world–we can explore our questions on our own, with those who share our goals and mindset, and/or by looking at the information and opinions others have publicly shared.

Social media is one of the most public forms of public life we have right now, combined with a concentration of platforms across just a few ubiquitous companies that make the whole process difficult to avoid. It’s not the best way public life could be structured, but, even if it were, some things just aren’t appropriate in the public sphere.

That doesn’t mean, though, that what is wrong or harmful in public should never have a place in our private lives.