Cyber waste

As the more astute among you will surely have noticed by now, I have started writing a blog. However, in the age of trolling and cyber-abuse, I’m perversely fascinated with the concept of who might be reading this column, and what they might think of me as a consequence of my relatively unguarded ramblings.

That’s honestly not as egotistical as it sounds. In recent weeks, online editorials from established journalists like Philip Hensher at the Independent and Suzanne Moore at the New Statesman have triggered avalanches of bile and opprobrium from the serried ranks of the easily offended. Many respondents have demanded the injury, castration and/or murder of said writers, while Moore joined a growing list of public figures who have closed their Twitter accounts in response to viral venom.

I can’t say I agree with the opinions expressed in either of these controversial articles, but to paraphrase Voltaire, I defend their right to voice an opinion. What worries me is how violent people’s reactions can be nowadays, from behind the relative anonymity of their keyboards. Just like road-rage, which usually abates once you step outside the supposed sanctuary of your vehicle, I bet the harpies who howl for a writer’s blood in response to a perceived slight would be rather less feral if they sat down face-to-face, and thrashed it out with a direct discussion. But the internet doesn’t allow for that. You are reading these words from a location I’ve probably never been to and can’t even imagine, which means any criticism I receive is going to be travelling at speed down a one-way street.

The change in the strength of people’s reactions to things they don’t approve of has been rapid, horrifying and predictable in equal measure. Back in the dark ages of the 20th century, individuals like Mary Whitehouse got very easily offended on a regular basis, but they did so in a generally polite way, and they backed up their opinions with real names and postal addresses. They didn’t write anonymous death threats, or adopt a pseudonym before promising to throw acid in the face of those whose opinions they opposed. As people’s anonymity increases, it seems, so does their malevolence, and the internet is a very anonymous place. The freaks come out at nine and it’s twenty to ten, to quote Sebastian Bach (not that one, the other one).

Why does any of this matter? Everyone knows you don’t feed the troll, blocking people on social networking sites is easily done, and if some sad inadequate wants to post a comment below this blog saying they hope I get crabs, their comments reflect worse on them than on me. And yet vitriolic website comments still carry the power to upset – I’d be a hard-skinned individual if I could declare full immunity from the slings and arrows of outrageous forumites.

In truth, I’m not likely to say anything especially contentious on these pages. These blogs will probably become so much cyber waste, littering the hard shoulder of the information superhighway, and being read primarily by people who already know me (hi, sweetheart). But if you do feel inclined to use capital letters and lots of exclamation marks to emphasise your burning loathing of my latest oeuvre (or anything you read online, for that matter), just take a minute to wipe the foam from your lips and consider. Is it really worth the hate?