The Seven Characters of Social Media Politics

Conventional wisdom says to avoid public discussion of politics, sports, and religion, especially at bars—unless you enjoy bar fights.  Everything posted online is public information, but social media feeds are rife with political content. 

Many people use social media to assert the absolute rightness of a position or agitate friends and families on political matters.  In some cases, the political posts elicit an exchange of comments, which can devolve into the online version of a bar fight.  Trading blows on Facebook over politics can result in a loss of friendships, both online and in the real world.

Reasonable people would agree that social media political posts are not a just cause for ending a relationship.  As the online generation, Millennials are also responsible for adapting these new tools to create productive dialogue.  So in the spirit of preserving relationships—and some level of genuine political discourse—here are the seven emerging archetypes of people posting about politics on social media so you know who to look out for and avoid becoming.
 
The Waylon Smithers. Waylon Smithers is the loyal and sycophantic aide to the primary antagonist Mr. Burns of the Simpsons.  Smithers loves Mr. Burns.  He is the consummate "yes man."  On social media, Smithers is easy to identify by his political posts.  Turn on any cable news channel, listen to the various pundits, and then watch your social media feed for regurgitation.  What Smithers lacks in critical thinking skills he compensates for by enthusiastically reposting partisan media articles.  If two Smithers from opposing political teams engage in comment battle on Facebook, you might as well turn off your computer for at least 24 hours.  If you do not, you risk the collateral damage of bold text and exclamation points.  Besides, the conversation won’t be going anywhere new.

The Don Quixote.  Don Quixote read books about chivalry, obsessed over knighthood, and set off on a delusional adventure to change the world and win the love of an imaginary woman.  The Don Quixote of social media also wants to change the world, but instead of changing the world, he changes his Facebook profile picture.  He uses lots of #hashtags to tilt at those windmills.  He even uploads videos of himself doing inexplicable activities of no consequence to the cause he professes to support.  True, he is raising your awareness, along with your blood pressure.  But what is the relationship between his hashtagging and the outcomes in the real world?  If you see someone proliferating posts to achieve a sense of purpose and political impact—with little indication of any real world follow up— then maybe you've got a delusional Don Quixote.

The Meg Griffin. In the Fox show Family Guy, Meg Griffin is the oldest child of Peter and Louis Griffin.  She is despised by other characters.  No matter what Meg does, she is just wrong and out of touch with reality.  On social media, Meg Griffin posts about the dangers of allowing extraterrestrials to donate to political campaigns in the United States.  Her posts cite questionable sources alleging that smoking marijuana increases intellectual capacity and calls upon the Congress to decriminalize, for the children's sake.  She posts about how Trump is either a divine figure who will save the world or a demon who will end it.  Either way, when Meg's posts show up in your feed, keep scrolling.  

The Holden Caulfield.  Whiny. Pampered. Rebellious without a cause.  The protagonist and narrator of J.D. Salinger's the Catcher in the Rye is perhaps the most annoying character in literature.  Holden is a true intellectual, but everyone else is phony.  On social media, Holden thinks posting memes from libertarian Facebook pages makes him brooding and deep.  He posts esoteric articles and asks cryptic questions. He is both naïve of the mechanics of politics and resentful of the "establishment."  He responds to others' posts with pages and pages of valiantly intelligent, mostly irrelevant text.  Worst of all, he complains.  Holden may be a compelling literary figure, but you definitely do not want to hang out with him.

The Negan.  Negan is the new villain in AMC’s the Walking Dead. He says and does whatever he wants.  He is in charge and will use violence to control you.  On Facebook, the Negans post highly inappropriate and offensive content.  You wonder if your safety is at risk if you disagree.  He wants you and his 83 other Facebook friends to understand that political correctness is real in America and he will not be muzzled.  He makes you cringe and realize he validates Meg Griffin's fears.  You sometimes wonder if the FBI is monitoring him.
 
The Captain Ahab.  Captain Ahab was a monomaniacal whale-hunter whose single-minded obsession led to his death.  On Facebook, the Captain Ahabs are easy to recognize.  NASA might have discovered life on Mars, but Ahab is posting about his white wale.  No matter how one uses facts and reasoning to demonstrate Ahab's folly, he cannot entertain new information.  He cannot see the bigger picture.  He is obsessed with his political issue and that's all there is to him.  You ignore him and move on.

The Most Interesting Man in the World.  "I don't always post about politics, but when I do, I post a 25,000 word prattling manifesto that I’ve contemplated for days."  Is he a genius? Or is he a hermit with a manifesto?  You can't be sure because you physically could not last beyond page 4.  You regretted clicking the “see more” expansion window.  How did you think that because he never posts about politics, he would emanate political profundity? Thanks, interesting man, and we appreciate your joining the conversation.  You should not always post, but when you do, maybe spend more time contemplating and offer something of value.

There you have it.  The seven archetypes of political posters on social media.  Sadly, these characters are proliferating.  So how do we move ahead?   

It is surprising that meaningful political dialogue on social media is not occurring.  Social media exposes people to new ideas and creates an opportunity for dialogue among people who do not share geography, political beliefs, or biographical traits.  When coupled with instant access to the amassed knowledge of humankind (aka Google) for fact-checking, how could social media not be improving empathy, increasing openness to new ideas, and creating a common appreciation of key challenges and potential solutions?  

What's worse is that social media may be having the opposite effect.  As Tobias Rose-Stockwell argues, technology is reducing the ability to feel empathy toward other people and their views.  This is significant. 

What explains social media's failure to improve political dialogue?  There must be something specific about social media and its relationship to political discourse that explains the emergence of these archetypes.  Perhaps the structure of social media compels us to care more about image curation than substantive contributions.  Maybe people today are more inclined to use politics as a means to validate how they feel with like-minded people rather than an area for meaningful debate with opposing views. 

What is clear is that a lack of genuine cross-partisan dialogue encourages the adoption of an unhelpful and potentially dangerous idea that political rivals are irreconcilable enemies.  In the aftermath of elections, common emotions on social media have included elation, gloating, indignation, confusion, surprise, anger, and—perhaps most disconcertingly-- genuine fear.
 
If Millennials seek to maximize the potential of social media as a platform to increase political dialogue and understanding, maybe we can set the example with our political posts.  In the real world, we can reach out to people with whom we disagree with the objective of improving our understanding of issues.  We should not be Pollyannaish, but at least for our own benefit, we can learn something through an earnest approach toward dialogue.

History may have also have lessons in the use of media for political purposes.  In order for the United States to adopt the Constitution as law, the States had to ratify it.  Two camps emerged: the Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison; and the anti-Federalists, led by Patrick Henry, John Williams, George Clinton, and Robert Yates (among others).  In an effort to persuade citizens of the merits of their view, both camps published a series of essays in newspapers.  Dubbed the "Federalist papers" and "anti-Federalist" papers, these essays resulted in the both the ratification of the Constitution and inclusion of a key concession in the Bill of the Rights.

The authors of the federalist papers and anti-federalist papers thought deeply—not only about their positions, but also about those of their opponents.  They acknowledged the complexity of the issue and the potential merits in their rhetorical opponent's approach.  The authors used emotion and pushed buttons like most politicians, but they had respect for the reader's intelligence. They made reasoned arguments and directly engaged the ideas of the other side, unlike the archetypes above.

If you were to take an action as a result of this article, consider engaging someone with whom you disagree and learn one new perspective.  As you do, please keep in mind that having a productive dialogue means realizing that (mostly) the other side is not dumb. 

If you can think of other archetypes of the social media political poster or have a theory on why social media is not better suited to discourse, please post in the comments below.  If you would like to write a piece for the blog on this or any other civic-related topic, please say so!

A future post will explore lessons for social media posting from the process of ratifying the U.S. Constitution in a piece called "What Would Publius Post."