(This post actually comes from me, Meg Fowler. You can find everything else I yammer about here and here.)
“Scandal is what one half of the world takes pleasure inventing, and the other half in believing.” — Paul Chatfield
It’s no secret that social media runs on the twin engines of boredom and scandal… and that the latter tends to solve the former for many who spend their days “connected.” It’s not a new thing, mind you — early internet communities relied on provocation, rumours and verbal fistfights to keep users coming back for more.
Hell, ALL communities — online or offline — have a tendency to feed off the buzz of drama, and always have. As long as there have been fences to peek over or whisper over or neglect to mend, we’ve had an obsession with what other people are up to… and a desire to share it.
So is it inevitable that every day on the web will continue to evolve as a game of CyberTelephone, where no one checks facts before they whisper into the next person’s ear… and where the crazier the story gets, the more fun we’re all having?
The realist in me says it will, if only because the readership at blogs from Perez Hilton to TMZ to TechCrunch to ValleyWag to Gawker continue to grow without fail — even if half of what they report is ultimately a) easily debunked; b) constantly updated with conflicting stories; c) made public without confirmation; c) painfully biased; and d) agenda-laden.
Not to mention the home of “Trending Topics” and “RTs” and #motrinmoms and #tcot and enough viral activity to rival the swine flu: Twitter.
Twitter loves rumours, scandals, fights, dramas, gossip, freakouts, finger-pointing… really, anything that turns a stream into a bloodbath.
We pass things on without checking to see if they’re true, we engage in “@” battles without a second thought about who might be watching and listening, we speculate wildly about situations where we not only don’t have a horse in the race, but where we’re not even sure that there is a race, we cry foul when something smells even the least bit fishy, and we engage in acts of exposure that would make Larry Flynt blush.
And we’ll love the whole mess the same way we love reality television — except now we can inject ourselves into the story instead of watching it unfold from the sofa.
I know it’s not going to change. In fact, it will only get worse.
Does that mean that you need to be a part of it?
By now, we all know that the things you say about someone on the internet stick with them for a very long time.
Your “hmmm, I wonder?” tweet about someone else’s actions becomes a fact when it springs up on Google, out of context. Your blog post full of “questions” about someone else’s behaviour becomes a permanent fixture on their digital record. Your repeat of a rumour becomes one more nail in someone’s coffin, even if you couldn’t really say why they deserve to be buried.
Even if you’re not prone to care about the impact your words have on others, you may be doing yourself harm in the bargain, too.
Your in-the-moment rant about a co-worker at your job becomes a red flag for your next employer. Your RT of a story that turns out to be baseless turns you into the Twitterer Who Cried Wolf when you actually have something important to share. Your glee in someone else’s misfortune makes you a prime candidate for sharks if your own blood ever reddens the water.
But the most important reason to self edit?
I am more and more convinced every day that what we say about others tells a larger tale about us than it does about them.
When you take liberties with someone else’s life and reputation or engage in public defamation – even as one in a hundred or a thousand or a million people doing the same thing — you reveal your own disdain for truth and grace in the bargain.
So before you dive into the mud with an RT or a hashtag or a blog post or a comment on someone else’s post or a Facebook update, ask yourself a few important questions:
- Do I have any evidence this is true, beyond the viral nature of the rumour?
- Have I looked at both sides of the story?
- What do I stand to gain or lose if I become a voice in this story?
- What does the person I’m talking about stand to gain or lose if I spread it?
- Even if this is “no big deal” right now, does it have the potential to become one?
And if you’re the one about to start the storm or throw “stuff” into the fan…
- Will I feel differently about this in a couple of days, when my blood pressure goes down?
- If I’m joking, are the people who are going to pass it on going to get that I’m kidding? Will the person I’m talking about get that I’m kidding?
- How is this going to reflect on me when everything is said and done?
- Is there a tone I could take that would be more constructive?
- Is there anyone trustworthy I can bounce this off of before I post it?
- Am I being a jerk?
That last question is probably the most important one in the bunch.
It’s a bit of a battle to hold back sometimes, especially when the gossip is especially juicy, or when everyone else is talking about it, or when someone we know is frustrated… or when we’d like nothing better than to go find a bat and “adjust some worldviews.”
But it is never a bad idea to think before you speak, and to consider the impact of your words beyond the next ten seconds or minutes or hours or days.
And not because you have a “brand” to protect, either.
Screw your brand.
Do it because you always have the choice not to be an asshole.
And because grace can go viral, too.
