I’m proud to have played an intern-sized part in Slate‘s marvelous feature on the internet’s outrage economy and the controversies that had us fuming – and clicking away – in 2014. Slate editor Julia Turner:
Over the past decade or so, outrage has become the default mode for politicians, pundits, critics and, with the rise of social media, the rest of us. When something outrageous happens—when a posh London block installs anti-homeless spikes, or when Khloé Kardashian wears a Native American headdress, or, for that matter, when we read the horrifying details in the Senate’s torture report—it’s easy to anticipate the cycle that follows: anger, sarcasm, recrimination, piling on; defenses and counterattacks; anger at the anger, disdain for the outraged; sometimes, an apology … and on to the next. Twitter and Facebook make it easier than ever to participate from home. And the same cycle occurs regardless of the gravity of the offense, which can make each outrage feel forgettable, replaceable. The bottomlessness of our rage has a numbing effect.
And The Awl editor Choire Sicha:
We used to yell at the TV but it couldn’t hear us. Finally someone can. So you turn to all the people next to you, all the friends and followers, and you are typing and then you are hitting send, post, tweet, submit.
…You are speaking, first, into the echo chamber of your friends. But not everyone is in your silo. And so then some stranger is mad at you; then some friend is noticeably silent. You are blocked or you are yelled at. Spiraling conversations come from realms unexpected and unwanted. You are embarrassed, or you are angrier, defensive or passive-aggressive, or laughing at them all. It is a rush of emotion that stretches long but is only an instant. Then, with a slithery zip, the moment is sealed shut.
It’s all almost as exhausting to participate in as it is to think about, but if you’re in the mood, the essay series is worth perusing, as is Slate’s comprehensive, soon-to-be-365-day calendar of the things we let ourselves get upset about this year. What made us mad on my birthday, November 2nd? Lena Dunham’s memoir. Oh yeah! I remember that….