Since the election we’ve seen countless examples of unhinged, callow, hysterical emoting in which people disappointed in Kamala Harris’ loss have displayed on parts of social media behaviors that, in a more normal society, would bring out the folks with straitjackets.
I accept political dissent; but, as I have argued, this is not normal political dissent. Normal political dissent does not take the form of people bellowing like gored oxen on TikTok before an anonymous world as they shave their heads. I’ve argued that this behavior comes from a deeper, darker place: the sacralization of politics, turning it into an ersatz religion that fills the values void people who have lost their religion feel but refuse to acknowledge for what it is. “That’s me in the corner, losing my religion” is no longer just an R.E.M. song.
To me, the question is the relationship between these displays of narcissistic behavior and social media. On the one hand, I am loath to blame technology for what today might be framed as “abuse of human agency,” (i.e., displays of irresponsible public behavior). On the other hand, such behavior was not commonplace in earlier times, even if political polarization was. People didn’t take instant Polaroid pictures of their meltdowns over Richard Nixon or Ronald Reagan and send them to any and all. So, apart from social media providing a platform—literally, a world stage—does it bear a more causal role in this dysfunctional behavior?
Yes. It’s part of Mark Bauerlein’s masterful analysis, in his The Dumbest Generation, into the new problems emerging from a generation raised on screens.
So, which comes first: the chicken of unhinged behavior or the egg of social media access? Let’s agree: they’re both responsible.
That said, one should probably still err on the side of human accountability: technology may make it easier for people to act stupidly on a mass, even global scale, but it’s still people choosing to act stupidly. My computer didn’t make me do it.
Which brings us back to the question of what has happened to the guardrails that once upon a time protected people in general from acting like idiots in public?
Parents used to inculcate things like “etiquette,” “social expectations,” and “manners.” The Germans have a wonderful word for that whole constellation of things: Kinderstube. And to tell somebody they lack Kinderstube was a powerful insult.
Part of the reason for the decline of Kinderstube is a shift in how we raise children. Tim Carney was on to something when, in Family Unfriendly, he noted our times have shifted from “being a parent”—a noun indicating a reality—to “parenting,” a verb suggestive of a function whose job description is changeable.
And the job description has changed, when we consider the ascendance of what Anastasia Berg and Rachel Wiseman (in What Are Children For?) call “acceptance parenting.” “Acceptance parenting” is rearing a child according to the norms of the dictatorship of relativism; that is, treating nothing as normative but allowing him to “explore” whatever he might think is his stellar “talent,” at least of the moment. Wise and Bergman contrast that to “traditional parenting,” which they describe as drawing on “culture and tradition to set standards relative to which children are to be assessed.”
In other words, traditional parents expect a child to fit at least generally within the “standards” of the society in which he lives. “Acceptance” parents see no such standards as binding—which is why their privileged offspring are acting like waifs on TikTok, Instagram, and other social media platforms.
