“All our life, so far as it has definite form, is but a mass of habits,” wrote the psychologist William James.
I think that may be as true online as it is in real life. We tend to do things in a fairly regular pattern; log onto email first, check the news, browse social media, read blogs, get outraged.
Some days I am amazed at how much potent vitriol gets spewed all over the Internet. (Other days I’m just used to it.)
One of the strangest of online habits may be when people repeatedly get upset with the same bloggers and websites, and exclaim their feelings in the comments section and on social media. It’s as if they are going into McDonald’s every day and complaining about all the fast food that’s in there.
The upside of websites you find horrible is that you don’t have to read them.
Nor do you have to follow people that make you mad on Twitter or Facebook.
That is, unless there’s a tiny part of you that loves the outrage; that’s just waiting, poised, for that one stupid pastor to tweet something horrible; for that popular blogger to post something worth getting upset over.
Somewhere I’ve confessed to this particular online vice–checking out a website that I never agree with just to see what looney arguments they’re making these days so I can spend a little time making counterarguments in my own head and possibly even stewing over how misogynist/unChristian/graceless/unjust that person or group seems to be.
I’ve just finished reading the really excellent book The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business by Charles Duhigg and I’m more convinced than ever that outrage in the blogosphere is an addictive habit. Duhigg explains the science of habit as lucidly as I imagine it can be explained.
Basically, habits have three steps:
- Cue: “a trigger that tells your brain to go into automatic mode and which habit to use”
- Routine: “can be physical, mental, or emotional”
- Reward: “helps your brain figure out if this particular loop is worth remembering for the future”
“Over time,” Duhigg writes, “this loop–cue, routine, reward; cue, routine, reward–becomes more and more automatic. The cue and reward become intertwined until a powerful sense of anticipation and craving emerges.”
It seems to me that outrage on the Internet is a habit that falls neatly into this three-step process, and possibly looks something like this:
Much the same thing goes for the actual act of angry/inflammatory commenting (or tweeting):
Have you ever been in a church or other group with a person (or people) who seem to crave conflict–who are seemingly always on the prowl for a new controversy; who seem unhappy, bored, and restless if things are too peaceful and too quiet? Have you ever encountered a person who seemed to get enjoyment from provoking other people?
Do you remember being told to ignore the person bullying you, because they’re just looking to get a rise out of you, and if you ignore them, they’ll eventually stop? That’s because whomever was advising you discerned (probably quite rightly) that the person bothering you was just looking for trouble–or at least, for some kind of response.
Developing an addiction to Internet outrage is probably pretty similar to that, and it is probably exacerbated by the addictive nature of social stimulation on the Internet itself. Consider the following bit from Duhigg’s book:
“When a computer chimes or a smartphone vibrates with a new message, the brain starts anticipating the momentary distraction that opening an email provides. That expectation, if unsatisfied, can build until a meeting is filled with antsy executives checking their buzzing BlackBerrys under the table, even if they know it’s probably only their latest fantasy football results.”
Why do you think that if you’ve got open tabs on Facebook and Twitter on your computer, a little number pops up in the tab to tell you how many ‘notifications’ or tweets you’ve missed? As I was typing the previous sentence, a little icon in the corner of the WordPress toolbar blinked to remind me that there are comments or other bloggerly notifications I haven’t yet seen. Because we homo sapiens just love novelty, we can’t help but click over to see what’s new or what we’ve missed, even though we know it’s just as likely to be some spammy bit o’ nothing as it is to be something that’s actually worth our time.
Combine that addiction-to-the-new with a little bit of energizing conflict or debate and you have a pretty potent brew.
(And I think indignation over whatever outrageous thing has just aired on television is just one variety of this habit.)
But as Duhigg’s book makes clear, “habits aren’t destiny.” They can be changed, often simply by noticing how the pattern of habit (cue-routine-response) works and by noticing what we’re craving and what actually satisfies it.
Before you end up aimlessly roaming the Internet and getting outraged over what So-and-So is saying over on That There far-left or far-right or Reformed or Baptist or Whatever blog so that you can comment and tweet angrily about it, stop and ask yourself:
If what you’re looking for is some good human interaction why not try…
If what you’re looking for is some good intellectual stimulation, why not try…
(And I realize almost any book can be controversial. I’m just trying to say that if you’re trying to get out of outrage mode, reaching for Mark Driscoll’s or John Piper’s or Rob Bell’s latest–or whatever book is inflammatory in your circles–is not a great move. Try ‘controversial’ books like To Kill a Mockingbird instead.)
There’s the old joke about a guy who has lost his keys and is searching for them under the streetlight.
“Is this where you dropped them?” the policeman asks (very reasonably.)
“No, I dropped them way over there,” says the man, pointing into the dark distance.
“Then why are you looking over here?” the policeman asks (with understandable confusion.)
“Because the light’s so much better over here.”
If you find yourself addicted to Internet outrage–even as an observer–it might be good to ask what, exactly, you’re wishing you could shine some light on. And whatever that may be, I do hope you find it via a more peaceful path.
Good words. And I love your illustrations. They make the post
Stop and try to find out what you’re really looking for – now that’s some of the best advice I’ve ever heard for the internet, Rachel, and it goes for off-line life too.
When I find myself repeatedly outraged or simply unsettled by a blog, I tend to just stop visiting them. A while back I had to stop reading a blog written by a team that really is intelligent and loves God, but their style in the posts and in their responses to commenters was so incendiary that I couldn’t take it any longer. Another blog I recently gave up is actually written by a friend of mine, but it is often written in passive/aggressive judgmental tones and I couldn’t see how to keep reading if it always just made me feel bad (and now she’s pointed out a couple times that I don’t read her blog any more).
I like your suggestions for alternative endeavors. Write nice emails, read something uplifting, etc. I’d add a suggestion: pray, perhaps in thanks to God that you have the opportunity to pray, or for someone you know is going through hard times. That is quite a bit different from internet ire, and puts the focus on God.
I think prayer is also important. Especially praying for the ones that we find it hard to love.
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Love! It is definitely time to kick the habit. Heading to my bookshelf now…Amy
So good and something about the stick figures allowed me to see myself and my actions with more clarity. I’ve realized recently that the more energy I expend reacting, the less I have for my real-life people. All that to say thanks for this post.
Oh and another thing – I just started re-reading To Kill a Mockingbird this weekend. Yay for Scout.
Hey Rachel, Little bit ironic coming from the girl who skewered Donald Miller recently, but hey, I guess it’s hard-earned wisdom.
Joking apart, love your insight and stick figures!
Thanks, Anita. Because I don’t find Donald Miller particularly edifying, I don’t read him. That post was just an effort to defend a friend from a really unfair attack from Don, who seemed not to be able to handle even the merest hint that someone, somewhere disagreed with him.
This is an interesting one – on one hand, I totally agree with you and seeking opposing views in order to be outraged is pointless. On the other hand, I’m aware that I (and others) easily slip into narrow channels of thought by only following and reading things that agree with my pre-formed opinions. Personally, I’m a bit lazy and I don’t enjoy conflict so I generally just avoid unpleasant things or things I disagree with but that does mean that I’m not open to changing my views or even just understanding more of ‘the other side’.
Agreed. It’s important not to just surround ourselves with those with whom we agree. I guess I’m thinking specifically of those who go trolling for disagreement–and believe me, they do exist in large number!
I think what happened to me was, I quit going to church as soon as I got to college. And I started looking into rejoining a less fundamentalist and icky version of church when I had kids. And it was like, so hard to get plugged back into the “christian culture” loop without finding stuff that made me mad. And I felt like I couldn’t just ignore the stuff that made me mad because I needed a good answer to it. And I needed a way to feel like I could separate myself and my identity as a Christian (if indeed I could ever feel comfortable identifying as one again, along side people who made me so uncomfortable) from people and ideas that made me so upset.
Oh, I don’t think it’s necessary or even good to ignore everything that churches and individuals are saying in the name of Jesus. Sometimes a critique, even a harsh critique, is needed–I’ve defended the role of the critic elsewhere. What I’m trying to say is that Internet outrage can become a habit, a habit that’s prone to becoming addictive precisely because it doesn’t quite satisfy what we are actually craving.
Oh, okay. I see the difference. That makes sense. Thanks for clarifying!
Laura, in addition to Rachel’s great insight, I’d add that if you are looking to re-establish your identity as a Christian then you might be headed toward inevitable disappointment. If instead you are eager to identify in Christ, then the other issues won’t be able to hold you back.
Could you help me understand the distinction between “re-establishing my identity as a Christian” and “identifying eagerly in Christ” — sorry if that is a dumb question. like I said. I’m out of practice here.
That’s a great question, Laura. When we enter the family of God, we are made new creations (2 Cor. 5:17) because of who Jesus is and what he has accomplished (Jn. 17:4). None of our identity in that kingdom is based on us establishing anything – let alone establishing an identity in Christ – because Jesus is the one who has already established himself in us (Rom. 8:11) and has reconciled us in himself (Gal. 2:20).
Hope that helps,
The pull to “know” and fear of missing out can be very compelling. But this is a great reminder. Intellectually, I know I’ll be far more enriched reading a great book than tumbling down the rabbit hole of who-said-what.
Yes…I want to be in the know. But you’re so right that it can quickly become a tumble down the rabbit hole…and a rather insular one at that.
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Great post. One question that bothers me though– What if the “reward” you mention in the first cartoon (a sense of superiority) is actually what we are “really looking for”? Sometimes I catch myself reading inflammatory comments I disagree with and congratulating myself: “wow, good thing I know so much more than they do!” or enjoying going over all my smart/morally superior counter arguments in my head. If this is the feeling that we are craving then it won’t necessarily be fed by the other, more useful activities you suggest. I guess in that case we just have to acknowledge this habit as sinful pride and fight against it by doing the things we know are more edifying, even if our “psychological reward” is taken away.