It's frosty again...
On difficult online conversations
Good morning. I hope this finds you safe and well. It’s finally frosty in the UK, so I put away the remaining spring flower bulbs and pulled out the warm blankets and hot chocolate. I am working on a project related to the Witcher universe, so the timing is perfect: I spend my evenings working on a geek therapeutics essay, so I am reading about Slavic myths, the feminism of witchcraft, and the liberation of female fantasy characters. I am still a little bit busy at work, but when things are quiet, I will also cook meals from the Witcher books. Literary stories can be healing, and at this time of the working calendar, people are so exhausted that tensions are running quite high. A healthy dose of escapism (I like the word!) allows for a good restoration, balancing out the intensity of human interactions.
This week, I was involved in a few challenging conversations on Facebook groups and noticed that, somehow, we had lost not only the ability to disagree effectively. I personally see a few reasons for it.
First of all, in individualistic societies, every posted comment is viewed primarily from our individual point of view. Even though the comment was public, we assume it was directed specifically at us and - wrongly - expect the person who posted to know everything about us, all our performed identities, our pains and our needs. We tend to expect the author to factor in how we feel about everything instead of taking responsibility for our own emerging emotions. Often, instead of responding, we react. If this were happening offline, we would be in a networking event and expect the speaker to know our life story and our complex personal needs just by looking at our clothes, the name tag and our face (avatar).
Sometimes, we can also fall into an unhealthy competition of victimhood instead of holding and healing our traumas in appropriate spaces. We project our personal suffering on other people’s words, and many algorithms feed that engagement. We end up arguing and building walls instead of connecting.
I also noticed that many social media users do not fully understand how specific channels work. Especially on microblogging and social networking platforms, the common mistake is to expect an author of a short update to set a full context of their post - that’s something that is possible on blogs, in videos, in podcasts, not in a short sentence. On social media and microblogging channels (Facebook, LinkedIn, Mastodon), when we read something upsetting, we need to research the context ourselves - check the author’s bio, Google their name and even ask for clarification before assuming a stand.
In cyberpsychology, we see a correlation between a person’s wellbeing and their follow-up online behaviours. When we are tired, unwell or struggle with mental health, we may disinhibit faster, seek conflict online, escalate it and with those lower levels of regulation, we may end up hurting ourselves even more. So, it’s essential to consider slowing down, taking a breath, sleeping on something before responding, and researching the context before making a judgment. It‘s also vital to heal. We all need healing; our systems need healing, and so does our planet. We could focus our attention and remaining energy on that instead.
I had a lot of healing and re-connecting conversations this week. I also found myself pulled into a toxic one, so I stepped away from it and rested. It will happen to all of us, and those learnings are a journey we need to walk intentionally towards peace of our kind.
Reflection
Today, I invite you to think about online conflict with the intention of preparing to handle it peacefully and constructively.
How do we take in strong online opinions directed at the general public? What emotions do you experience when you see a public statement that is not aligned with your views or touches a strong traumatic experience of yours (systemic or individual)? How do you/can you pause before posting?
How do you react and respond to strong opinions directed at you? How do you feel? How do you react, and how could you respond in a way that de-escalates the tension and honours the human on the other side of the screen? How would you respond if this was happening offline?
How do you handle abuse directed at you? Do you know what options you can use to stand up for yourself, expect allyship and invite apology before pressing the “report” button?
Do you reflect on the quality of the relationship in each online interaction - again, if you were meeting those people offline, would you still consider their words abusive, or would you see them as a result of an upset individual? Would it matter to have this additional information about them?
How do you rest after intense online interactions? Who can you talk to about them? What can you do to soothe and regulate your nervous system and tend to your heart?
(I hope this is helpful. I am intentionally starting the next chapter of this newsletter with an invitation for peace and healing. I wish you a soft Sunday!)