Supporters (and opponents) of Trump and Brexit alike are similar in the vigour with which they support their cause in the face of expert options to the contrary and sometimes even in the face of plain simple facts. Why? And why now?
Disparity of conviction
It would be untrue to say there aren’t arguments in favour of either. There surely are cases to be made for support of Trump over Clinton or for a UK outside the EU. But the debates are more finely balanced than the behaviour of the participants justifies. The absence of clarity in the facts and potential outcomes is not reflected in the clear-cut belief each camp has of its correctness.
Has this always been the case with politics? It is the essence of tribalism long established but it goes beyond belonging. Could it be that social media has, rather than just letting such unfounded but deep-seated passions become visible, actually caused them?
Rivertown
Imagine a town before mass communication. It has a river running through it, right down the middle. On one side there are fields which need irrigation to grow crops and the folk who work the land live on that side. On the other side are prime fishing spots and a water mill. The folk living on this side need the river in full flow to sustain their livelihood.
There’s a conflict here. To divert the water onto the fields or not? Everybody in the town has an opinion and once a year there’s a meeting about it where some kind of compromise is reached and everybody goes home equally unhappy but some crops are grown, some fish are caught, some flour is milled. Nobody staves.
Facescroll
Then one day a kid on the riverbank throws a stone over the water and shouts “Hey you, you stole my fish”, and another kid picks up the stone and lobs it back hitting somebody on the forehead. Ouch! That might have been the end of it – there have been stones thrown before – but today of all days, Facescroll arrives. These are talkative kids and they immediately PM their friends on both sides of the river and the next day there are stone throwing crowds come to see what will happen.
It not long before stone throwing is a regular thing, a group activity and the talk of the town. The riverbank becomes a dangerous place to be: after the stones come spears and then bows and arrows. There’s no relief at home or at work: with a buzz and a beep each person is mentally back on the bank, pebble in hand. Another point is scored, another win, another loss. The perpetual reminders mean the fight itself supplants the original issue.
There are no new people here. There is no new conflict. All that’s changed is how they’re (how we’re) thinking about things.
The difference
It is social media that has turned everybody with a phone into one of those townsperson with a ready rock or a spear.
There is a distinct qualitative difference in the effect events have on groups. The amplifying affect of an in-group discussion is a positive feedback loop that promotes incidents beyond their intrinsic importance given them an existence independent of their cause.
There’s a distinct qualitative difference in the way groups are formed. Individuals can form opinion-defined groups which reach a critical mass despite geographic sparsity. Each individual can participate in multiple groups.
The separation of daily reality and the online world means that “the fight” is gamified. That is to say, the rewards are points, likes, and follows, not actual palpable progress. The means has supplanted the end.
Being shot
It’s stupid. It’s clearly ineffectual. Shouting at people on Twitter will not change the world; scoring twenty more followed won’t save the NHS.
But encumbered as we are with the zeal of the convert we need to justify our own actions lest we be found wrong. Why are we getting up every morning and polishing our armour, sharpening our arrows, hammering insignia into our shield. It doesn’t makes sense but we’re doing it now and to stop would admit that we’ve been duped.
So in truth we’re all less like the thrower than the thrown. Once set in motion, changing direction seems impossible.
Our online selves have been weaponised and we’re not archers but the arrows.