Call-Out Culture: Technological-Made Intolerance

Call-Out Culture is a term which defines the social phenomenon of publicly denouncing perceived racism, sexism, homophobia, and other forms of bigotry. It is one of the great curses on social media when in a group focussed on political activism, the group’s tenor turns to a massive critique of what others are doing wrong. Months of call-outs results in said group being more about people whining about others than actively exchanging ideas or constructing political actions. While we are ostensibly supposed to be connecting and communicating on these virtual forums, especially in those which we have designed for a fit purpose, we end up feeling anxious about checking in, much less sharing thoughts. We realize over the months of these repeated psychic scenes where the same individuals repeatedly find fault with another person who’s “doing it wrong,” that the group was never about a collective coming together to share ideas, to discuss, or even to listen to others’ thoughts. Ultimately, participation in the group soon becomes about avoiding the group as you write a private message to other members notably absent and they tell you that they don’t feel like contributing for fear of bullying if they don’t answer the way the rest of the group thinks they should. I ask them, “Are you getting sick of the constant call-outs?” The answer is invariably, “Yes.”

It’s at this moment when I miss Fran Lebowitz’ editorial call-outs of tourists in New York City or the sterilization of Times Square because today’s call-out culture remarkably embodies the fury of a religious convert while lacking any type of humor altogether. I am constantly amazed by how people think, for instance, that being part of a discussion group means that everyone must agree on the content or direction of discussions, or worse, that disagreements must turn into battles. I remember the time before the Internet when civil discussions were not only far easier to negotiate, but disagreements were often fun. Instead, today we have the Internet which architecturally protects us from having to confront differing viewpoints to such an extent that we are given tools initially designed to stop harassment, but which are inevitably used to block, mute, and even report. The thought of a virtual system which is used to facilitate our discussions with others, ends up biting us on the ass when what most people really want is not to be challenged and not to think while paradoxically wanting to to always be right and, most of all, to be liked.

I think to Neil Postman’s description of Thoreau’s reaction to the telegraph in The Disappearance of Childhood: “In saying no one knew about the ideas implicit in the telegraph, I am not quite accurate. Thoreau knew. Or so one may surmise. It is alleged that upon being told that through the telegraph a man in Maine could instantly send a message to a man in Texas, Thoreau asked, ‘But what do they have to say to each other?’” And maybe we ought to be asking ourselves this? For Postman’s questions is as much about the materiality of the technology of the telegraph as it is about a social convention where notes would be sent long distance. What did people have to exchange as information in the mid 19th century? And how we can understand today’s conversations online when humans are having fewer social interactions, higher rates of isolation, and a dependence upon media that is supplanting the real life experiences that is important for human growth.

Did call-out culture exist before the Internet? Well, the answer is both yes and no. No, to the extent that you didn’t have waves of thousands of people tweeting to someone, “Bigot!” and tweets that shout down women who are doing feminism wrong. But yes, in that calling out perceived wrongs was, prior to the web, the domain relegated to politicians in speeches, op-ed journalists in columns, and the occasional NGO head or human rights expert in a book. People have decried injustices for many hundred years, but never so focussed and concentrated as in recent years with virtual communications—especially social media. Just as we could send letters to the editor via email in the early 1990s, without going to the post office, today we can write editors on their Twitter or Instagram accounts and we can troll writers for referring to climate change or politicians who want to put sugar taxes on drinks.

The problem is that when you try to have honest discussions with people online, you are taking a huge risk that the person with whom you are exchanging ideas is only a charming interlocutor until the moment that you disagree. At this point, all hell breaks loose and next thing you know you are seeing visions of Glenn Close and the boiled rabbit.

The idea of “groupthink” is widely credited to the social psychologist Irving Janis from Yale University. Janis theorized that groupthink is an organizational dilemma as he analyzed the social dynamics operating within the way governments make specific decisions, using the Bay of Pigs invasion and the Vietnam war as examples. In his 1972 book, Victims of Groupthink: a Psychological Study of Foreign-Policy Decisions and Fiascoes, Janis describes how groupthink maintains a hold on political and even military decisions such that human life and material resources are lost, noting that leaders make poor decisions when in a group setting that does not encourage individual thought. Janis shows how groupthink effects “the deterioration in mental efficiency, reality testing, and moral judgments” as a result of group pressures which shift discussions from exchanges of ideas towards conformity and unanimity. Janis’ notion of groupthink was still distinct from today’s conception since today it is widely understood that people are defenseless against this force of infection by the same opinion. But is this really the case that we have no power to push back?

As I witnessed today online, for daring to disagree with a group of women who were busy dismantling the activism of others, I realized that I was in a group designated for women who were only allowed to agree. The signs were clear: agree or be ostracized. Disagreement meant that you were disparaged with various epithets or more generally bullied and repeaedly. The use of deception and misrepresentation was also openly accepted as the new god of this millennium is not the quest for knowledge, but rather it is the holy grail of “shut the hell up” if you do not agree with those holding the patriarchal line of power. It was quite a scene to witness: a group of alleged feminiss who claim to want to fight “the patriarchy” while your voice was only welcome if you echoed what you were effectively mandated to say. It’s almost as if this brand of feminism were the very patriarchy it sought to undo using the very same means of coercion that was previously exercised by men upon women. If anything, these exchanges were a lesson in understanding the degree to which ego informs much Internet exchange and when people can’t answer an honest question, they flounce.

What virtual chatrooms and private groups afford us is to potentially create dialogue from afar. But in reality what occurs in most all cases I have witnessed in recent years is that online power relations are merely reshuffled, often in terms of class elites who take over the reigns from the “patriarchy” while perfectly re-embodying it. While the discussion might shift slightly, the actual problems of inequality remain: those who occupy positions of power tend to firmly hold onto the class dynamics, those who are ethnic minorities and whose voices were never heard remain unheard (save for a few tokens), and in the end the socially renewed order merely rearranged the deck chairs as the privileged class not only stays the same, but they assume that they own the discourse.

Call-out culture mixed with technological speed and ease has resulted in an era of boring, pompous adults who are as incapable of having a constructive discussion while accepting that other humans are not programmable robots. Everyone is guilty under this Orwellian order of New Speak where dare you mis-speak, you’re isolated from the group, harassed, and mobs set upon you. The technological order of the Internet today has effected a zealotry fueled by people working out personal and psychological issues. Denouncing people is easier than ever as there is never any accountability for the accusers and there is no personal connection made in real live which would otherwise result in apologies and forgiveness.

As zealotry is often fueled by people working out their psychological wounds, the damage done has no limits when executed through social media, lives are crushed. The tribal mentality vanquishes and new members are sought out as older members leave these groups, isolating themselves, while the bullying perseveres as it is the means through which power is established and certain people maintain their brand.

It is easy to see that when we adopt a binary tribal mentality which operates from an us/them perspective, we have reduced complex human beings into simple good versus evil binaries with no sense of humanity, proportion, or reality. Under this model, human life becomes contingent upon a silent nod from humans we don’t actually know and the online pseudo-reality becomes the only measure of one’s happiness. Our collective technological-made intolerance must end, but this can only happen if humans stop living on social media and cease singing to a sycophantic audience of zombies.