Insane and Anonymous

Yeah, yeah. I write for a newspaper. I understand. I’ve been writing for this particular paper for nearly seventeen years. Someone asked me what I liked about writing for a newspaper and I didn’t have an answer that I could put into words. Go figure. I, a writer, was at a loss for words. It happens. I figured I’d get back to her about it and never did. This coolish, overcast Sunday morning the answer came to me. I write to say things other people can’t or won’t say—things people want to say. So, today I’ll say what others aren’t saying. This morning LOML and I were having a coffee on the side porch (our version of a sunrise salutation) and we spoke of online commenters. Most newspapers have an online version of their publication and, logically, offer readers space to comment on the content. We spoke of how almost instantly gratifying is it to post comments on other people’s opinions. It’s a rush to have a public voice. A whole lot of people who comment online have got a lot of “issues”, obviously.

I may sound like a bit of an “old fart”, because I am, but after reading some of the online comments posted today in The Star I know the time has come to “get back to the land”. I’m not heading out on a trek to Yasgur’s Farm, by the way. But I am tired of uninspired, sophomoric, moronic comments made to online posts. I’m talking about the angry, hate-filled and uninformed gibberish some folks post with regard to news columns, and social media posts. Being obtuse has almost become an obligation for some readers. In the olden days, if a person felt as if they had to comment on something published in a newspaper, the person had to find their pen, some note paper, an envelope and a stamp. Old school letter writing was how a person dealt with columns and opinions they didn’t like. A letter was written to the Editor, the envelope was addressed, a big old lick and stick of the postage stamp and off y’all headed to the post box. If you were lucky, and your note had merit, and you’d included the title of the article that caused you angst and you made sure the Editor knew who you were and how to get in touch with you, your comments might be published on the Editorial page for the whole world to read within a week to ten days. Let me rephrase some of that last bit about the whole world to “for the purchasers/subscribers” of that publication to read. If the readers happened to remember that column with which you found umbrage then you had yourself a group of maybe two people who gave a good gosh darn. Your letter, if published, was edited for your potentially offensive comments and spelling errors. Often the writer forgot to check the paper every, single day to see if they were going to have a moment of fame. Sometimes a friend or neighbour or sibling would call to say “I seen you in the paper. What was that all about?”.

And here I am. I’m tired of the backlash, the venom, the vitriol and the unnecessary baloney from people who don’t take the time to thoroughly read or understand a media post (I have been guilty of this in the past.) Sometimes an online commenter chooses anonymity to inflict pain on others and to protect themselves from people just like themselves. According to one poll company, approximately twenty-five per cent of online commenters choose to do so anonymously. Theoretically, when a person hides their identity the normal behavioural constraints fly out the window. Anonymity seems to encourage impolite, uncivil, offensive and unsociable commenting. We’ve all seen it happen. Curiously, anonymity also encourages people to engage in the conversation and add to the dialogue. Hmmm. Mr. McLuhan wasn’t wrong when he spoke of the medium and the message. The medium may change, but people do not. Hmm, again.

So, what’s my point? I do have one. When will I stop being offended by uninformed, childish, sometimes vulgar comments made online? I suppose I’ll never stop being offended, but I have a choice, don’t I? I could stop reading the posts and comments or grow a thicker candy coating or I could make a game of it by anonymously posting insane, irrelevant rejoinders.

Yeah, that’s the ticket. Insane and anonymous. Or I could join a rock and roll band.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca