A few people have defriended me on Facebook recently. Before I explain why, a bit of background: I have well over 2000 “friends” on Facebook, ranging from family members to students to blog readers. I’ve been “on” the site for just over three years, and have found it an indispensable tool for keeping in touch with old friends — and for sharing media content (blog posts, videos, articles) that I find useful or interesting. Those of us who have public platforms (even if they are small platforms) are social influencers; it seems sensible to use the platforms we have to promote causes near and dear to our hearts.
Of course, not all of my Facebook friends share my views. I may be a staunch liberal, but I’ve got acquaintances (and loved ones) who span the spectrum from neo-Stalinist to Christian Reconstructionist and almost everything in between. When I post about hot-button issues — as I did in the aftermath of the George Tiller assassination last May, folks whose views are diametrically opposed to my own sometimes feel compelled to weigh in. And things can get very hostile very fast.
Blogging permits anonymity. I happen to blog under my own name; many don’t. Most of my commenters use first names only, or pseudonyms. But my Facebook friends are all real people whose names I know, whose pictures I can see, whose lives (at least online) are open to me as mine is to them. One can’t anonymously “troll” on Facebook as one can on a blog. But rather than turning down the temperature of the discussions, this intimacy makes the political arguments all the more intense. Much of it takes the form of “I cannot believe someone I love and respect can be so obstinately wrong”. The desire to show a “friend” the error of his or her ways is often exponentially greater within a closed social network than it is in the more open world of the blogosphere. I lost four friends on Facebook after I declared Dr. Tiller to be a martyr, and noted my open and unequivocal support for late-term abortion. Emotions ran high all around.
It’s tempting to avoid using Facebook to advance causes. It can just be a site for sharing photos and updates with friends. But I am a political creature. To pretend to be apolitical, to pretend that issues around gender justice and animal rights aren’t central to my being, is to present an entirely false image of who it is that I am. I suspect that a great many people, left and right and in between, would say the same. To paraphrase the good Lord, there ain’t much point in hiding one’s light under a bushel. And so the trick is to be an honest, open, loving, but authentic advocate for one’s deepest beliefs — and to do that advocacy in a way that engages and influences others, while respecting their right to disagree.
My Facebook “wall” is not a freewheeling forum for the discussion of ideas. It is my bulletin board, reflecting my views of the world on which others are free to comment — but not free to denigrate. For example, I noted several times recently my support for the National Network of Abortion Funds, including my contributions to various teams in their annual fundraising bowl-a-thon. I have made it clear that comments like “baby killers!” are unwelcome and unacceptable. I don’t go to the Facebook pages of my right-leaning friends and write “woman-hater!” underneath their posts linking to pro-life sites, after all.
The challenge for those of us who use social networking sites to communicate our personal and political selves (for many of us, those are inextricably woven together) is finding ways to practice integrity and civility in our exchanges with those whom we disagree. In the case of Facebook, because we are interacting primarily with those whom we have chosen as our friends and colleagues, the stakes are much higher than they are on a more anonymous platform. Facebook allows us to discover which of our friends — often much to our astonishment — hold views we consider objectionable or bizarre. To some extent, it’s a regular exercise in cognitive dissonance, as we struggle to reconcile our fondness for a person with our horror at her or his views. I know I give plenty of folks opportunity for just that, both here and on my Facebook page.
We live in a politically-charged era. I am proud of how many of my students are engaged. I am proud of those who fight for the causes I believe in, but I’m also proud of the integrity and passion displayed by those who hold radically different views. Having come of age in the politically apathetic early 1980s, part of the generation known as “Reagan Youth”, I am deeply impressed by the savvy, intensity, and commitment of those born a quarter century later. I am struck, too, by how many young activists do manage to maintain friendships (on Facebook and elsewhere) with partisans on the other side. I am learning much from them.
I “blocked” 2 of my Facebook “friends” from seeing my Wall when they were persistently disruptive when I posted items they disagreed with. However, I didn’t go the extra step of “de-friending” them.
“To some extent, it’s a regular exercise in cognitive dissonance, as we struggle to reconcile our fondness for a person with our horror at her or his views.”
Well said, Hugo. I struggle with this daily on Facebook with friends whose values differ from mine. As long as my friends are respectful, I am tolerant of their freedom of expression, but if someone hijacks my wall to further their own political agenda, I pull in the welcome mat and sweep off the front porch.
Your problem is that there’s not enough Farmville in your life.
I can’t believe I wasn’t the star of this essay.
Unlike many people, my facebook “friends” are actually friends. My list is substantially smaller than 2000! The danger is that because I know everyone so well, I know their weaknesses. I sometimes have to remind myself how important it is to be gracious. When the father of three lets loose with his “the environment is going to implode if we don’t do something” tirade, I have to refrain from asking in a comment why he has three kids and drives 30 minutes to work if he’s SO worried about the earth. On facebook everyone is listening. If you wouldn’t say it at a house party, don’t say it on facebook.
You win, Funt.
I find the problem to be when a disagreement about ‘politics’ is a disagreement about values. For example, if you and I agree that racism is wrong and should end, but we disagree strongly on whether affirmative action is an effective means to reach that end, I would have no problem respectfully disagreeing; we share the underlying values even if we disagree on the political solution embodying those values. If on the other hand you think racism is gone or mostly hurts white people or is even a positive thing, we have nothing further to talk about; our values are anathema.
I don’t have a problem with disrespectful disagreement, even when one disagrees strongly, however I seldom find it.
I agree with Mythago’s observation that a problem exists when a disagreement about politics is a disagreement about values, although it is still possible to have a civil relationship with someone who does hold differing views and even values. I can be more tolerant towards someone if they behave respectfully. If they cannot and behave with rudeness and manipulative agendas then the wall is erected and the door is shut permanently. I’m not interested in Facebook, just don’t have the time or the interest.
For me, Facebook was transformative. Because all of the people in my life who would normally never meet were all suddenly in the same virtual space, I realized I would need to be authentic or at the very least, consistent. That was when I realized that I would finally have to tell my family, my husband’s family and everyone I had met before 2000 that I was no longer a good Baptist wife and a Republican. I found great freedom in coming out of the closet as a the liberal feminist with a bawdy sense of humor and a habit of making friends with highly unconventional people. I stopped trying to be what other people wanted me to be. For me, Facebook was a virtual bra-burning. And the best part is that now my in-laws are no longer vaguely hostile: they now know exactly why they hate me and are no longer afraid to show it.