By K. A. Laity
As a medievalist, I'm always addressing various myths about the Middle Ages (they did not think the world was flat, get over it), but one of the persistent ones is that monks argued about how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. That would have been frivolous and pointless (not that they didn't argue about theological minutia that we would find equally useless) and they had better things to do.
Medieval monks have been far outdone by their modern counterparts—not, not modern Ecclesiastes, but by fans. The internet has allowed people with peculiar obsessions to get together in order to discuss things of interest to no one else.
And to discuss them obsessively.
When it comes to obsessions, no one has perspective. I was happy enough to come across a blog post in praise of Slim Chipley when I was trying to remember the words to that infuriating jingle from my childhood. I was foolish enough to think I might be the only one to remember The Kids from C.A.P.E.R. but of course there are multiple sites worshipping the memory of this wacky '70s kid show.
It's when you come across things like T. J. Hooker fanfiction that you begin to wonder who these people are, but inconveniently enough, many disguise themselves behind handles that show their obsessiveness but mask their true identities. Part of the performance in these arenas is to give a kind of secret handshake to fellow fans. If you don't recognize freddytheflutefan's name or icon, freddytheflutefan knows you're not part of the tribe.
On the plus side, finding your tribe can be a wonderful feeling and the internet has brought people together who might never have met geographically. My circle of acquaintances stretches across the globe and I am determined to meet many of them face to face. I love feeling part of a global culture.
On the negative side, these tribal identities all too often lead to new boundaries rather than their dissolution. Your tribe becomes the side you fight on, whether it's Arsenal v Man U or Star Wars v Star Trek or Erotica v Romance. The virtual lines are drawn in the sand and the barbs begin to fly, until it escalates into a flame war. The argument shifts from the initial topic ("JarJar Binks is/not the Anti-Christ") and turns to personal attacks along tribal lines. Some people love it and get an adrenaline charge.
Most of us tune out and leave the playing field to the trolls.
When Mattathias Schwarts wrote a NYTimes Magazine piece on the destructive effects of internet trolls, he pinpointed the appeal of this anonymous power:
“'Lulz is watching someone lose their mind at their computer 2,000 miles away while you chat with friends and laugh,' said one ex-troll who, like many people I contacted, refused to disclose his legal identity."
It's that anonymity which allows people to feel safe from harm. While cyber-bullying measures are a common approach to this kind of vitriol, the only real solution is for reasonable people to step up to the plate. If comments on your site get out of hand, step in. If you see someone fanning the flames, don't log off. Speak up.
More importantly, read carefully. How many flame wars start from incomprehension? Poorly written posts are hastily misread. A simple step to fend off flaming is to simply not assume—ask. The speed of the information flow mitigates against that reflection about reading and rhetoric, but it's got to the point where you really do have to be part of the problem or part of the solution.
I'm going back to contemplate how many angels might dance on the head of that pin.
Image via NorthernElectric