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." 

For the 2016 Presidential Election and Beyond: Four Lessons from the Roman Republic

Great civilizations have fallen into ruin as a result of their people making bad decisions.  Many Americans, irrespective of generation, are nervous about Tuesday's election for that very reason: fear of making a bad decision.  With our election days away, history can help you think about the election and what it could mean for the future. 

The Roman Republic and American Republic share many traits (update: check this out).  Like ours, Rome's origins were humble.  Romans believed in hard work.  They valued piety and pragmatism.  America's founders looked to the Romans of antiquity for assistance in forging their nascent republic.

Here are four lessons from the Roman Republic that could help you think about American politics.

Policy is more important than politics.  Thundering campaign rallies.  Witty retorts during debates.  These tactics are used to prompt emotional responses, but emotions undermine sound decision-making.  After years of bloody civil war, the Roman Senate was reinstated by the dictator Sulla.  Instead of fixing the Republic, the Senators used emotionally-charged rhetoric to confuse citizens and to pursue their parochial interests.  Politics became more important than governing to such a degree that some citizens believed the Senate, trademark of republican government, was the main obstacle to solving problems.  As the problems grew and Rome drifted from crisis to crisis, the Senate abdicated its fundamental policy-making responsibility and plunged the Republic into further civil war.  The Senators' fixation on politics belied the importance of policy. A set of coherent policies is required to govern effectively, and effective government needs leaders who care more about policy than politics.

Equality under the law creates order and trust.  In any system of self-government, equality under the law brings order to society and creates trust in institutions.  Although the ancient Romans were not known for their philosophy or art like the Greeks, they were tireless administrators.  They developed a system of laws that shaped western civilization and strengthened Rome's institutions.   In times of crisis, Rome's leaders were tested for adherence to the law.  Some leaders chose to pursue their agendas in contradiction of the law, resulting in a breakdown of republican government.  Others insisted in equality under the law and ensured accountability.  Without equality under the law, corruption is allowed to fester.  Corruption breeds contempt and undermines trust.  A lack of trust threatens stability and self-government.

Without virtue and piety, civilizations fall.  In today's information and media environment, opposition research firms are likely to uncover indiscretions made by our potential leaders.  For Millennials contemplating political office, your every Facebook post and intimate thought will be scrutinized.  Just remember this: a leader need not be perfect to have virtue and piety.  For the ancient Romans, virtue and piety were essential characteristics of leaders.  The Romans defined virtue as energetic "manliness" (courageousness).  Piety meant something more than religious adherence - it meant self-restraint, prudence, and a sense of duty to family and nation (the mythical founder of the Latin race was called Pious Aeneas).   Romans believed virtue was the secret of Rome's long success.  A society of virtuous people demands and expects integrity, courage, and selflessness from its leaders.  Greek historian Polyibus lamented that while Greek public officials were apt to steal public funds, the Romans were virtually incorruptible.  Roman virtue sustained a strong and vibrant society, and when virtue waned so did Rome.

Liberty and ignorance are not compatible.  You reap what you sow.  At the height of the Republic, Rome's successes were attributed to the high average capacity and capability of the body politic.  During the final years of the Republic, Rome's success in the Punic Wars resulted in an influx of slave labor.  The new free labor displaced citizens from their jobs and left them idle.  Over time, Rome's once-great citizens became little more than paupers.  Since the citizen-pauper had a vote, they required placation by means of increasingly extravagant festivals, games, and government-provided goods.  As these citizens became addicted to the public dole, they also became increasingly ignorant of the affairs of state.  Such ignorance made them vulnerable to any charismatic demagogue who promised to solve problems and provide ever greater benefits.  As Rome's attention was fixated on bread and circuses, their Republic disintegrated.  Rome's first Emperor, Octavian, stripped the Comitia, which was an assembly of the people, of its power.  The most important lesson from the Roman Republic is that liberty and ignorance are incompatible.  The Roman Republic collapsed because its citizens became ignorant, indifferent, and idle.  They became subjects to be ruled instead of citizens to be governed by their consent.   They fell victim to the promises of a demagogue because they were too ignorant to mount a defense and take action.

In sum, ignorance is a threat to republican government; the rule of law and virtuous leaders are necessary for order and trust; and society is threatened when politics are more important than policy.

A key task for the Millennial generation is to educate our children in civics so that they, in turn, can make informed decisions.  Rome did not fall in a day.  Instead, the Roman Republic unraveled over a period of decades.  We, and our children, can still arrest and potentially reverse the trends eroding our own republic.

Civic education does not mean all Americans should develop expertise in esoteric issues such as global trade policy.  Instead, civic education sharpens the understanding of the tasks and tools of governance.  It helps people to grasp the complexity and enormity of the challenges we face.  It safeguards against those who would seek to dupe them by empty rhetoric and promises.

Civics also help people to understand how government actually functions.  The development of law, policy, and budgets and the associated constraints can be mundane, but they are the vehicles of action.

Most importantly, civics allow people to appreciate the virtues and personality traits necessary for political leaders to be successful.  They must know what it means for leaders to have power and to use the levers of government for the common good while sustaining and strengthening a free and open society.

If challenges become more dire and citizens become more ignorant to the workings of government, they may be tempted to give leaders extralegal authority and power.  But power must be tempered by virtue, and the citizens who put leaders into power in tempestuous times must not be ignorant.  These are the key lessons of the Roman Republic.  And America's founders understood what T.S. Eliot would say in the 20th century: "So far as we inherit the civilization of Europe, we are still citizens of Rome". 

Famously, Benjamin Franklin told the American people after the Constitutional Convention that, "you have a republic, if you can keep it." The Romans could not.

Let us not follow in their footsteps.

This post draws heavily from American scholar Russell Kirk, who taught us to ponder the permanent things: history and human nature.  Kirk's "The Roots of American Order" formed the basis of many of the ideas and analysis contained herein.  Further source material included Cary and Scullard's "A History of Rome."

On Participation Trophies

A few years back, I attended a mandatory training course on leadership. The instructor discussed strategies for engaging with and managing employees. We learned about the importance of organizational skills, ethics, technical competence, and transparency. The course was mostly pedestrian, but the discussion on diversity turned out to be interesting.

The class tackled difficult and controversial gender, race, sexual orientation, and religious issues. As an aspiring manager, it was the type of frank and candid conversation I needed to help navigate modern social issues in the workplace. I walked away with several actionable leadership lessons and was feeling as if the course was worth it. That is until we reached the part on generational diversity.

The discourse on generational issues was different than the discourse on other aspects of diversity. It was clear that stereotypes were permissible. The instructor hailed the greatest generation as those who defeated the Nazis and ushered in a post-war boom. The Baby Boomers are natural leaders and stoic innovators. They made America great. Then, we discussed the independent Generation X, the latchkey kids. Finally, we learned about the Millennials.

The class full of Boomers agreed that Millennials are the worst generation. The Boomers believe that the Millennials typify our country's problems. America is in decline because it is weak, self-absorbed, overly-sensitive, and unable to focus. Lazy Millennials prefer to hang out in their parents' basement and play video games instead of getting a high-paying job.

As we were leaving the class, a Boomer asked if I had ever received a participation trophy. A participation trophy is given to children just for showing up and being a member of a team. Nothing particularly remarkable or praiseworthy is required.

I tried to demur, but he would not let it go. I finally admitted that I had received participation trophies. In a moment of triumph, he proceeded to inform me that those participation trophies are causing the downfall of the Republic.

Generational ridicule is fairly commonplace for Millennials. The linkage between trophies and the collapse of republican government, however, was new. I started to wonder.

Children do not buy themselves trophies. They are given trophies. But by whom?

When I asked the Boomers who bought Millennials these nation-toppling trophies, they were slow to realize the truth. As much as they enjoyed teasing Millennials over participation trophies, it was they, the Boomers, who invented them.

That's right. The Boomers gave their children participation trophies. The Boomers taught the Millennials that they are each unique, talented, and special. Then, as those children grew up and entered the work force, the Boomers criticized them for the traits they had bestowed.

The story of the participation trophy has become a symbol of the systemic and moral failings of my lifetime. It is a tongue-in-cheek example of the real problems caused -- but in some cases not even recognized -- by that group of Americans born between 1946-1965.

The Baby Boomers have occupied positions of leadership in business, academia, government, and media since the 1990s. During the last 25 years, the Boomers have presided over the debasing of the office of the President in the 1990s; a costly interventionist foreign policy in the 2000s; the greatest economic calamity since the Great Depression in 2008; and a series of far-reaching and hyper-partisan legislative initiatives in the 2010s.

The Boomers have pilfered the national coffers to the tune of $18 trillion of debt with minimal improvements to infrastructure, politicized the need to protect our environment, and driven up the cost of college education by 300 percent since 1995. They have created the conditions in which America is fracturing along class, religious, racial, and geographic lines.

All is not lost. The Baby Boomers are beginning to enter their twilight years and it is time for a new generation to lead. The U.S. Census Bureau estimated in June 2015 that millennials number 83.1 million people, surpassing the baby boomers at 75.4 million people. For the first time in 2016, Millennials also made up a larger portion of voters than any other generation. This is good news for America.

It is time for Millennials to lead.

Failure will not earn us a participation trophy. Failure will earn us a place alongside history's great civilizations, which fell into decline and vanished.

Game on.