I've been thinking about this topic
since the day after the election when I had an FB exchange with a
life-long friend (really, friends since pre-K) and it's really got me
questioning some things. Here's what happened in a nutshell. She
posted a politically-charged post, and I disagreed, saying that I
didn't think her comparison was appropriate. She then defended her
original post. That was about the end of the political part though as
she next stated that she didn't post her opinions because she wanted
an argument. Her husband joined in, saying that opinions need not be
argued. I quickly came back with an opinion of my own: that opinions
absolutely need to be argued. My friend then asked why I
hadn't learned my lesson from the last time we'd argued on FB some
months ago: that we need to “agree to disagree.” That was the
gist of it -from my perspective anyway.
During his lunch break, my husband
agreed with my stance. He said that every responsible citizen has a
duty to challenge opinions that are extreme or potentially harmful. I
agreed. By the time he came home from work late that afternoon though,
he'd changed his mind. “You violated Facebook etiquette,” he told
me. “On Facebook, you only respond if you are in agreement with the
original post.” “But why?!”, I asked, pretty worked-up by this
point. “If she didn't want to argue, she could have just never
responded to my comment!” “No,” he said, “because by that
time you'd put her into a position in which she felt that she HAD to
defend her original post.” A little light then turned on somewhere
deep in my brain. Oh.
What is it about Facebook? Most of us
would never walk into a room full of our friends and say, “Anyone
who voted for [fill in the blank] must have an IQ of 30 or lower.”
Because, what if one of our friends had, in fact, voted for the
particular candidate? Somehow though, walking into a virtual room
full of friends and making this same comment seems acceptable. (By
the way, this was not my friend's comment -hers was much less
insulting- this was just another post that I saw floating around on
FB the day after the election.) Should it be acceptable? Maybe in
anonymous message rooms where you can masquerade as “2Hot4U243,”
but on Facebook? I tend to think not. I tend to now think that on
Facebook, it's just too personal.
What then, is the roll of debate? In
general? In social networking? These are questions too big for me to
answer, but I do have a couple of thoughts. First, my FB offense
stemmed from my difficulty in accepting that many people who enjoy
boldly posting their opinions do not actually welcome a civil debate.
Rather, they are surprised, annoyed or even feel attacked by such a
response. Even acknowledging that many people do indeed feel and
react this way, I had a hard time...being OK with that. Again, the transformative power of FB. In a face-to-face interaction, if I was getting the vibe that my friend wanted me to drop something, I would drop it pretty quickly. I would be sensitive to her body language and other cues. I would be more concerned about her emotions and more aware of the effects of my words. But that's just it isn't it? FB strips so much of this away.
Another blow was realizing that many of these people who do not want to debate may not understand -or, worse, may misunderstand- MY reasons for welcoming and encouraging debate. A friend of my friend suggested that I was doing it to get attention and to prove my superiority. Another friend of my friend quoted the Book of Mormon scripture about the spirit of contention being of the devil. That really gave me pause. Certainly there is a distinction between being filled with contention and enjoying a debate. But that's not the point. The point is that I would hope people wouldn't make these sort of assumptions about me and that I should, therefore, not make assumptions about their reasons for NOT wanting to debate. For instance, my own husband avoids posting or stating opinionated comments because he doesn't like the constant second-guessing of yourself that follows. Others would simply rather spend their time doing something else. My friend's reasoning seemed to be that debate was pointless; We would never convince each other of anything anyway, so why bother?
Another blow was realizing that many of these people who do not want to debate may not understand -or, worse, may misunderstand- MY reasons for welcoming and encouraging debate. A friend of my friend suggested that I was doing it to get attention and to prove my superiority. Another friend of my friend quoted the Book of Mormon scripture about the spirit of contention being of the devil. That really gave me pause. Certainly there is a distinction between being filled with contention and enjoying a debate. But that's not the point. The point is that I would hope people wouldn't make these sort of assumptions about me and that I should, therefore, not make assumptions about their reasons for NOT wanting to debate. For instance, my own husband avoids posting or stating opinionated comments because he doesn't like the constant second-guessing of yourself that follows. Others would simply rather spend their time doing something else. My friend's reasoning seemed to be that debate was pointless; We would never convince each other of anything anyway, so why bother?
I would be lying if I said that I
didn't enjoy the competitive element of debate or that feeling of
satisfaction that you get when you put a period at the end of a
well-articulated thought. But my friend's reasoning made one basic,
incorrect assumption. I do not debate primarily because I want to
change YOUR opinion; I debate because I want to shape, challenge, and
develop my OWN opinions. With some exceptions, I do not view my
opinions (particularly my political ones) as the solid and
unchangeable pillars that will loyally guide me though the remainder
of my life; They are based on my current knowledge, experience, and
feelings and are, therefore, subject to change. I want to discover my
own biases -my own oversights; I want to question and define my own
current opinions, and I have found that the best way to do this is
through defending and describing them and listening while others do the same. Why not write my opinions in a
journal? you might ask. Or just read a bunch of factual reports or
journalistic articles? Because, while these things would be good, I
do not believe that they can replace the power or effectiveness of a
live debate -particularly with someone you know, love, or respect.
It's when my sister-in-law explains how her experiences working in a
clinic opened her eyes to a whole host of issues that I hadn't even
considered. It's when my brother tells about how his first-hand
interactions with others led to a change of heart on a particularly
sensitive topic. It's when a FB friend calmly explains why they feel
the way they do. These are the things you remember. These are the
things that open up your heart and mind to whole new possibilities.
Second, I do believe there is a time to
“call it quits” --when feelings are getting hurt, someone
specifically requests it, relationships are being damaged, or if it
just gets too late to think straight anymore (mind you, I do not
always abide by this conviction nearly as well as I should). However,
just because you have decided to call a truce on a particular topic
or discussion, writing that person off from all future debate,
discussion, and compromise seems like a mistake to me; It's an easy
enough one to make though in the current political climate (“Oh
you're a republican/democrat?...We're done talking”). How can this
be a good attitude on Facebook or in Washington? In fact, this
extreme polarization along party lines is an issue that concerns me
more than the fiscal cliff, more than our broken healthcare system (and
that's saying something), more than almost any modern-day political
issue. Because, let me wax idyllic here, if we could come together in
open, honest, respectful and heart-felt discussion and compromise
-acknowledging that we don't know it all and need each others' ideas-
I like to think we could work through most any problem. I like to
think that.