Discussion: So you’ve been publicly shamed

I remember when we first got dial-up. I used to race down the stairs on weekend mornings and boot up our old computer. It would tingle a little as it turned on, as if shedding static cobwebs. I’d carefully remove the ethernet clip from the phone, pressing down the plastic top firmly and not letting go until I nestled it into the back of the computer. Knowing I’d have to remove it when my parents woke up, I’d load up seven chapters of whatever Fictionpress book  I was reading and settle in. Back then the internet was unexplored territory. Commercials with rippling text– y’know the late 90s when the text sometimes looked like it was made of slime?– would warn parents to watch their kids. People from all around the world would connect, comfortable in their anonymity. Anyone could do anything!

Then it transformed from unknown to the best tool known to man. The internet solved everything, or so the predominant wisdom at the time went. I remember those heady tech-utopian days when hate rhetoric seemed relegated to a dark corner that barely invaded our collective peripheral vision. There were no articles about how dictatorships could use the internet to reinforce their hold on nations or put out so much content it became difficult to wade through it and separate fact and fiction. There were no think pieces on how the internet village separated us into further categories– the internet was solely a means to freedom and education. It was the universal village! We could talk to anyone in the world.

Nowadays we don’t think of the internet as one big party. We even have internet specific terms for groups, and some of the groups have peeled themselves from internet forums to begin affecting our conversations, and policy, in real life.Perhaps the one holdover from the old unexplored days is the notion that “the internet is forever,” something even more terrifying when we consider what the shifting alliances or group loyalty on the internet can do to people’s lives. One tweet, one blogpost, one video gone viral and you’re an international joke, sometimes luckily and sometimes not. No doubt, not every viral bit stems from naivete or poor wording. There’s a certain thrill to the schadenfreude of watching the bully get punished, but what about the person who stumbles? And what happens afterward?

Jon Ronson’s book So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed examines exactly that. In it, he speaks with several people who’ve experienced public shaming for online, or sometimes offline, errors. Like many of us, Ronson had participated in an online dragging before.  Getting credit for a witty riposte or covering your relief you avoided censure with a sheen of schadenfreude when someone else falls into the same pitfall. He remembered when the internet made us all Davids against the Goliath of corporations*. How public shaming could punish the deserving. But what happens when the person we’re ostracizing or shaming has a face?

My third year of college I enrolled in a course on Public Policy. Among other books, we were assigned “How we Choose” by Jonah Lerner. I loved the book, in a sea of dense academic texts “How we choose” offered learning wrapped in effortless diversion.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that Lerner had been famously disgraced by a journalist with a deep love for Bob Dylan.  In a flash, Lerner went from pop science superstar to pariah. Michael, the journalist? He gained little money and little recognition for his investigative work.

Over the course of the book, Ronson met many times with Jonah Lehrer. He talked with him about shame, fear, depression and, later, about how Lehrer nurtured hope for a chance at redemption. Then, he was offered that chance: A speech at a well-known journalism conference. But when he appeared at the conference, still shaky and half-filled with loathing, he wasn’t just giving a speech to a small room. The entire world was watching. And the room? They were watching the world react on Twitter from a screen right next to  Lehrer’s head.  By and large, Twitter was not forgiving.

As I read about the backlash, I couldn’t help but remember an article I’d read some time back about this phenomenon.  The article, titled “Exiting the Vampire’s Castle” was British writer Mark Fisher’s lament about online culture. I can’t say I agreed completely with his propositions, but So You’ve been Publicly Shamed re-etched one idea in particular from Fisher’s article:”The Vampires’ Castle specialises in propagating guilt. It is driven by a priest’s desire to excommunicate and condemn, an academic-pedant’s desire to be the first to be seen to spot a mistake, and a hipster’s desire to be one of the in-crowd.” A chill descended upon me as I read this. I’d never be brave enough to admit I’d seen this.

I’d watched this happen when Carve the Mark, the latest book from Veronica Roth came out. The book community divided over Carve the Mark.  ARC readers reported racist tropes and, after reading their reviews, a number of members called for a boycott and declared consumers of the book racist. Another group disagreed.  They asserted that simply reading did not equate to virulent racism**. They accused the first group of a form of social censorship.

A member of the first group, LL McKinney pointed out that customers drive the market. If we support books with harmful representation and ignore more diverse voices, we’ll continue getting the same narratives over and over again. She added the publishing industry, even as it embraces “diversity” still gives space to predominantly white authors.  Eventually, the author broke her silence to rebut some of the claims. The language of the warlike group wasn’t based on North African/Middle Eastern languages but on Romanian and Hungarian. They also weren’t universally dark skinned.  Francina Simone entered the conversation  with an amazing  video dissuading people from grouping people together without examining actions and literature.  Simone spoke at length about her concern with the discourse surrounding Roth and book reading. Not only did the conversation move quickly away from the art in question, but it also took a great deal of time from promoting better books.

During the video, Simone decried tendencies to engage with people making honest mistakes and “trolls” in the same manner. “I want to dismiss that unless you’re being rude and angry about shit, you’re being passive,” Simone continued. Like in the Vampire’s Castle, I watched people launch into defense or attack to gain hearts on twitter from their carefully defined ingroup. Voices who had previously been accepted in the same community who disagreed were immediately jettisoned.*** Time and time again, more attention was given to the first person to spot something wrong,  qualities of virtue were ascribed to those who called for swift punishment, and belonging was gifted to those who went along. The Vampire Castle sucked positivity from the air.

Achieving a balance between acting on positive change and reacting to negative conditions is difficult.  When Jonah Lehrer gave his speech, many people were cynical of his intent. They were concerned that his reentry might affect the validity of the genre as a whole. They were skeptical of his suffering. After all, he was paid for the appearance, and his sometimes questionable word choice elevated instead of humbled him.

Before gave his speech, and before Ronson started investigating thoroughly the stories, and options for redemption of the recently shamed, he relayed Michael and Jonah Lehrer scoop to a theatre director at a party.  Instead of reacting with curiosity or laughter at Lehrer’s fate, the man shivered. “It’s  about the terror, isn’t it?…The terror of being found out.” It was then Ronson, as he inexplicably shivered too, he had a realization. He wrote:

“I had leapt into the middle of the Michael/Jonah story because I admired and identified with Michael.  He personified citizen justice, whereas Jonah represented literary fraud in the pop-science world. he made a  fortune corrupting an already self-indulgent, bloated genre. I still admired Michael. But suddenly, when the theatre director said the words ‘the terror of being found out’, I felt like a door had briefly opened before me, revealing some infinite horror-land filled with millions of scared-stiff Jonahs. How many people had I banished to that land during my thirty years of journalism? How truly nightmarish it must have been to be Jonah Lehrer.”

I can’t say I have any answers about how we should proceed on the internet. I can’t even tell you I know for certain where the lines between Righteous Justice and Vampire Castle begin and end. I can only offer more questions: In this atmosphere, how do people who have made mistakes achieve redemption? Can they? Should they? If so, when?  What does it mean if we create groups force strict in-group/out-group rules?  When anger becomes currency, how do we spend it? Are we the citizen justice or another fraud waiting to be outed?

*How corporations  have learned to use technology now is another topic worth exploring. I shall do my best to resist here since it’s not the point, but just know that I wanted to write about it.
** I should note here that many of the conversations did not consider racism as a matter of degrees but created a dichotomy. Another conversation worth having about how we frame racism and how smaller acts link to larger ones. But, again, off topic.

*** Like Simone, I am not attempting to tone police anyone. Even typing thisI’m afraid of some backlash. I doubt this will get any attention (in the scheme of things I’m not very important), but I still worry. In my time online, I’ve watched people bullied for a less than this. All it takes is one person with a lot of followers to assign new meaning or reframe.  To be clear, I am not attempting to censor anyone who has expressed anger or discomfort while on the internet. I am not asserting dog whistles and other similarly shrouded negative sentiments aren’t shrouded in more acceptable language. My only intention is to express some concern with how dynamics, like the Vampire’s Castle, might encourage us to be cruel, to gloss over nuance or context.

Also, you read all of this?! Holy shit. I’m impressed. Thanks for caring about my tiny blip of word nonsense in the vast ocean of internet entertainment.

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Review: The Underground RailRoad

Colson Whitehead’s novel the Underground Railroad relays the story of a Cora, a slave whose mother is purported to be the first and only slave who escaped to freedom on her plantation. This legacy follows Cora for the entire novel and in some ways is the reason for her escape and for her troubles on the Underground Railroad. Unlike other novels tackling this subject matter, the Underground Railroad is not a network of people hiding behind code words– though the author does include a clever reference to towards the end of the book– but an actual, literal railroad. The consequences of this switch from information network to physical path crop up from time to time throughout the novel. At times, they allow him to switch the focus from Cora’s escape to the culture that pervaded the United States at the time.

Whiteheads’ recount of pre-civil war America is blunt, unwavering and, perhaps, even cynical. This cynicism is most memorably  captured in his motif of darkness. In the beginning of the novel one of the conductors of the railroad tells Cora “If you want to see what this nation is all about, you have to ride the rails. Look outside as you speed through, and you’ll find the true face of America.” It is only later that Cora realizes , through riding rails again and again that the true face of America is the darkness inside them.

As Cora continues her journey North, her understanding that “one might think one’s misfortunes distinct, but the true horror lay in their universality” is only reinforced. The myth of the North outshines its reality. Even characters’ who help Cora have their vices laid bare: perhaps they envision themselves the white savior of what they call a ‘lesser people’; perhaps they  are cowards; perhaps they desire too much, too fast; perhaps they don’t fight at all.

He does sprinkle strands of hope through the novel. They are often shredded, sometimes even moments after they are delivered. This leads the reader to guard their hope and tamp it down, much like the main character of the novel. I cannot truthfully say that this novel was a hopeful one and I’m not sure I could use the word “enjoy” to describe my experience with this novel. Nevertheless, I recommend it. It is skillfully written.


Plot: 

I actually gasped, exclaimed even, during some parts of the book. Whitehead plays with the readers desire for the main characters’ success. He lulls you into a calm, albeit a tense one, then wrenches any security you felt away from you. In terms of building suspense, Whitehead succeeded, I hovered between anxious and horrified through the entirety of the novel with only one moment of true calm.

The structure of the novel may bother some as he jumps between characters and moves back and forth in time, but it never seemed he did so without reason. In fact, he would often add a new character chapter right before an important event. For someone who is often a character-driven, world-driven reader, this technique worked well for me.

Characters:

Don’t be fooled by the back flap description, there is only one true main character in this story: Cora.  Some have complained that the style of writing, coupled with Cora’s reactions to obstacles, hardships and tragedies, removed them from the story. They  felt unable to sympathize with Cora’s plight because she– or the narrator–  relays events in a distant manner. While I understand their perspective, I didn’t feel bothered by this. On the contrary, I found her reactions realistic and varied. For me, Cora is sustained by a mix of defiance, resilience, bitterness,  regret, desperation, and hope.  Her perceived stoniness is a result of the atrocities she has bore and witness, but it is not all she is.

The villain, Ridgeway, is not the typical story villain. He is to “return escaped slaves”  through a much more sinister form of hatred and racism.  His belief in the order of the world is an almost effortless, lazy acceptance that slavery exists for a reason and the “institution” was infallible. To be sure, Ridgeway hates a number of plantation owners and is disgusted with them. He is aware of the cruelty, he recognizes it and he participates in it. His conversations with Cora are underlined by the specter of “practicality”. He admits the system is cruel, but he actively benefits from it. This, for me at least, was what made him the more terrifying villain. That he found atrocities an acceptable method to achieve personal goals, that he was clever enough to understand it and to find ways to benefit from it. Ultimately, it is his pride that leads to his obsession with Cora not  his desire to protect a system.

A note on other reviews I’ve read: 

Sorry, this is something that has annoyed me about some other reader reviews I’ve read. They have claimed that particular scenes where in black bodies are harmed by doctors  are inaccurate; that they have no basis in history. In fact, they are not inaccurate. Perhaps you could argue they are anachronistic– I’ve only read accounts occurring after the time period the story is written in– but you can not argue that comparable things never happened to black people in the U.S..

3.5 stars to Uprooted by Naomi Novik


Uprooted
is an award winning stand alone fairy tale influenced fantasy novel by Naomi Novik. The story centers on a small village on the edge of an encroaching malevolent wood.  The villagers lived by three rules: Don’t go in the wood, kill those who do before they kill you and, when it gets bad, send for the Dragon.
The Dragon, a cold, distant figure, had lorded over their village for centuries. Though he protected them from the wood, the villagers did not love him. Every ten years he asked only one thing of them: a girl. Every ten years, they obeyed. After ten years, he would release her from the tower, changed.
Agnieszka has grown up knowing her best friend, Kasia, will be chosen by the Dragon. Good, kind, brave Kasia would disappear to the tower and, after she is freed, leave the village for adventure.
The day of the choosing arrives and Agnieszka discovers she was wrong.I’d recommend Uprooted for lovers of fairy tales and classic fantasy.

Plot:
The plot over all was well-structured; the reader could trace almost each event to a clear cause. In other words, the plot made sense. Some have complained that it followed too tried and true a fairy-tale formula; however, I disagreed. The writer noted that the story was influenced by the Polish fairy tales her grandmother told her when she was young, but Uprooted still felt original. It mixed cozy nostalgia, a creep-crawling villain, tragedy and redemption. Most of all, however, Uprooted was a tale of friendship and bravery.
There were a few moments where the story faltered– the world slipped or the character’s relationships felt strained, a scene went on too long– but, overall, I really enjoyed this story.

 World and Writing:

The rules of the world were, mostly, consistent. Naomi Novik’s writing shone the most in this section. The wood felt spine-tinglingly creepy.The wood had a darkness which added a dark undertone reminiscent of Grimm’s fairy tales. And, following in true fairy tale form, The Wood had a lesson; the story a moral.

Characters:

My main complaint with Uprooted lied with Agnieszka’s relationship with the Dragon. Here, the Beauty and the Beast influences were most evident; however, the transition felt much less believable. More on that can be found in the spoiler section.

On the other hand, one of the highlights of the book was Agnieszka’s relationship with her best friend, Kasia. The support they show for each other and the unshakeable bond between them is something I’ve sorely missed in other fantasy novels. Honestly, I would have been more than satisfied if the book focused more on their relationship instead of Agnieszka and the Dragon’s.

Continue reading 3.5 stars to Uprooted by Naomi Novik