The Thin Ice of Modern Life

We live in democratised version of the tall poppy syndrome? A world in which the moody mob rules.

If you should go skating
On the thin ice of modern life
Dragging behind you the silent reproach
Of a million tear-stained eyes
Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice
Appears under your feet
You slip out of your depth and out of your mind
With your fear flowing out from behind you
As you claw the thin ice  
 

Pink Floyd, The Thin Ice, The Wall, 1979 

I find reading the comments in online news articles difficult. Similarly, I need help comprehending the mind behind the sharp, extreme and poisonous opinions offered on social media. Yet, I know the people who hold and express these views live in my community. What is it about our modern life where we feel the need to express such extreme and often puerile views?  

Is it a democratised version of the tall poppy syndrome? A world in which the moody mob rules. The Russian author Alexander Pushkin, commenting on the indecent curiosity with which people were trying to obtain information about the private life of the poet Byron, captured some of this feeling: 

The mob reads the confessions and notes etc., so avidly because in their baseness they rejoice at the humiliations of the high and the weaknesses of the mighty. Upon discovering any kind of vileness they are delighted. He’s little like us! He’s vile like us! You lie, scoundrels: he is little and vile, but differently, not like you. 

It seems today's mob sentiment does not limit itself to laying low the high and mighty anymore—anyone is considered fair game. Three recent news articles followed in quick succession while I was contemplating this post.

In the first, Richard Flanagan reflected on how Australia’s literary circuit had become hostage to social media sentiments: 'Is it to be the case that Australian writers’ festivals will abandon any writer once social media turns against them? And what if the mob have it wrong?' 

In the second, Cricket Australia's public policy and government relations manager was sacked for tweeting about Tasmanian politics.

In the third, a well-regarded National Rugby League referee (Matt Cecchin) cited the 'noise' of social media as central to his decision to leave his job. Cecchin told of how he had received 'hundreds and hundreds of death threats' after he refereed the Tonga-England World Cup semi-final. The New Zealand Police and Australian Federal Police became involved as security for his family was raised as a concern.

The sentiment of the indiscriminate and anonymous mob threatens and rules. But this is a description, not an explanation.  

Like others, I wonder whether the anonymity of the internet gives people the opportunity to express views in ways they would not if they found themselves in that person's presence. (Although politicians and ex-politicians seem to be a growing cohort, that is an obvious exception to this hypothesis. And, their behaviour in all this is profoundly influential.)

We all have become more critical, demanding and entitled in our views. However, the absence of a relationship seems to create the space for this behaviour. This is the thin ice on which we are all skating. 

Relationship assumes continuity of contact through time. We live in communities bound by relationships. In these communities, our behaviour has history and consequences. An observation by Albert Camus best captures this sentiment: 

Human relationships always help us carry on because they presuppose further developments and a future—and because we live as if our only task is to have relationships with people. 

We live as if our only task is to have relationships with people. I must exercise restraint, demonstrate empathy, and show tolerance to sustain a relationship. Camus was a strong critic of leaping to extremes—of taking extreme positions to justify our sense of how the world works or how we would like it to work.  

Our hypercritical behaviour seems to assume there are no ongoing relationships, consequences for words, or effects of words on others. It assumes no relationship. Cloaked in anonymity, the individual has absolute primacy. This is at odds with the values of community: respect, restraint and prudence. In a positive community, extremes are moderated by social norms developed through interaction.  

Interactions have ‘criticism’ as a feature of our developing relationships. Criticism is an evaluation with the aim of improving. Criticism seeks to improve and develop and is a natural part of relationships and communities. Ultimately, criticism is a technique for arriving at shared meaning and understanding.   

In our commodified and flattened world, restraint, empathy and tolerance are not central to our behaviour. I prefer a different future. The present is a little depressing. 

Notes 

I am not as well-read as I have led you to believe. The Pushkin quote and its context can be found in Simon Leys excellent collection of essays, ‘The Hall of Uselessness’.

Richard Flanagan, I didn't want to write this, but the courage to listen to different ideas is vanishing. 

Samantha Maiden, Cricket Australia sacks worker over series of tweets about abortion.

Andrew Webster, Death threats and ongoing criticism force Cecchin to quit the NRL