(I’ll be back with another Catholic artist interview next month. This month, I’d like to explain a bit about my own concerns regarding social media – particularly for Catholics.)
We talk a lot in the world about the compulsion to stop and scroll. The way smartphones pull us out of the world and into those obsessive behaviors. Studies show that smartphones have an addictive effect on our behavior and that social media in particular is designed to create an addictive response.
Those are evils, and they cause real damage to us as individuals, as well as to our collective society. But the dangers of social media don’t end there – Alongside all those more obvious evils is the explosion of online gurus, influencers, and the culture of attack they inspire.
A New Issue Every Day
People love to be incited to anger. We love the novelty of offense. In each era there’s something to focus on and a way to stir up our frustrations with our fellow men. The constant drip of rage offered by social media and bloggers has turned this common failing into a compulsion. No one is off limits, and the language of rage is often childishly unchecked.
Of course, bitter accusations and defenses have been a part of our written life for centuries. But previously, the layers of time between writing and reading – a time often entrusted to editors – gave everyone time to calm down a bit (at least, in theory).
One recent controversy surrounds Fr. Ripperger. Now, I’m not going to dive into all the articles calling Father Ripperger “heterodox … dangerous,” and “disobedient.” I’m also not going to break down all the defenses of Father, most of which, unfortunately, rely heavily on ad hominem attacks and immature language. Instead, I’ll skim over some of the aspects of the argument that stood out to me and use them to reflect on a better way to engage online.
Enter Father Ripperger
A friend introduced me to Fr. Chad Ripperger’s podcast years ago, when I was still looking for something engaging to listen to online. I found him interesting and insightful. I listened off and on for a year or so. Read a few of his books, and had some interesting conversations with friends about his ideas and approaches.
I appreciated Fr. Ripperger’s gentle tone of voice and low-key humor. I didn’t agree with all of his ideas, but I enjoyed his presentation. His recorded lectures gave me the impression that he was a devout man with a dry, affectionate personality and a deep interest in the activity of demons in the world.
But, social media is a trap. Priests as well as laity fall into it easily – in fact, it’s designed to lure us all in if we’re not careful. It all starts small and then – intentionally or not, can grow to guru status with scores of eager acolytes. Fans who say of Fr. Ripperger, “He’s our Gandalf” or refer to him almost formally as “Wise and Confident Father” and heap abuse on anyone who criticizes him illustrate the problem of the blind trust influencer culture creates.
Ad Hominems and Anonymous Friends
Unfortunately, an unthoughtful defense implies unthinking adoration. That one of Father Ripperger’s fans attempts to defend him with schoolyard language, “Shut up … I don’t want to hear from the weirdos … criticizing a nice guy,” should be embarrassing. Commenters like that damage our ability to offer real, healthy critique because they lower the discussion to childish insults and banal commendations.
On the flip side, Fr. Ripperger’s critics are bogging themselves down in the hyperbolized language of fear. In Mike Lewis’ article on One Peter Five, this language is at a fever pitch. He writes that Fr. Ripperger is full of dangerous, demeaning views that are causing harm in extreme ways.
Lewis’ article is full of the language of social media “junk science … conspiracy theories … deception” – along with that most ubiquitous social media attacks – the appeal to an unnamed, but highly competent “friend,” who says in this case that “Fr. Chad Ripperger is … a stupid person’s idea of a smart person.”
The author’s unnamed friend fills an essential role in social media arguments: the need to say something offensive without risk. Lewis can quote “a friend,” lay out his credentials “with a PhD in philosophy” and then write something nasty with no need to support it.
These two different attacks display the heart of the issue regarding serious conversations on social media: uncontrolled emotionalism. It’s not that I don’t share some of Melody Lyons concerns about Father Ripperger’s willingness to pass along demonic insights. Of course I don’t actually want to know what Satan thinks about the Blessed Virgin Mary. If Christ hasn’t chosen to reveal which demons were originally supposed to surround which saints, I’d rather not know than hear about it from the devil.
But if we can’t critique Fr. Ripperger’s presentation with charity; if we can’t disagree with Mrs. Lyons’ more emotional language without name-calling; and if we need to fill up articles with exclamation points and the opinions of anonymous friends; then we’re not mature enough to participate in the conversation.
I hope that Fr. Ripperger takes the opportunity to discuss the more reasonable critiques with his bishop, superior, or brother exorcists – instead of simply trusting the affirmation of his fans. I’m sure that Fr. Ripperger has the humility and humor to skip past the childish attacks of his online foes to find the rational critiques in their midst. But honestly, that’s his own business, I’m not his advisor, nor should I be. What about the rest of us?
Step Back
Remember the ’90s, when we’d dial up the computer, read a few articles — taking notes on the neat legal pad our parents kept beside the computer for that purpose? Remember when message boards were more informative than interrogative because few of us were allowed more than 30 minutes online, every other day, and we just didn’t have time for drama? I miss those days.
We can’t go back, not actually; but we can reclaim some of that attitude. We can use the Internet responsibly – not to find out which Catholic failed this time. Not just to vent our anger at liberal Catholics who miss Pope Francis or conservative exorcists who don’t read Harry Potter. The trick is to reclaim our emotions from the algorithm.
Get Off Social Media
Really, I mean it. It’s not healthy. Not for men, not for women. Definitely not for children. If you choose to use a social media platform for something – like looking up crochet videos on YouTube or researching an article you’re writing, keep your purpose in mind. This is not a place to make friends. This is not a place to trust the motives of the content creator. “The best yarn in the world is Doreen’s special wool … who happens to be a sponsor of this show…” is only the most obvious way that influence is bought and sold.
Don’t fall so much in love with any public figure that you’ll take his word on something without question. You don’t really know these people. Remember what we all knew in the ’90s – that not everyone on the Internet is who he claims to be.
Don’t fall for rage-bait. At the end of the day, your participation in the newest drama isn’t necessary. Most of the time, you’re speaking into an echo chamber. Almost no one changes his mind because of something he read on a blog.
I realize that it feels like you’re making a statement. It feels like advocating for or defending the decency of some person or group. But in reality, it’s just catharsis. There is a place for calling out public figures (even priests) in articles. There’s a place for defending those same public figures. Social media is not that place. It’s not designed for intelligent conversation, we keep trying to use it that way, but it never works.
Share Less
We like to think that our personal experiences give weight to our opinions. We like to believe that when we say “I emerged from the influence of the occult…”, other people will connect with us, value our vulnerability, and listen to our experience with understanding and care. In person, that is often the case. I can think of so many moments of openness and honesty, when friends or strangers shared vulnerable memories with me and that honesty opened my mind to their perspective. Online, too often, the reverse is true. It’s often too difficult for online readers to see outside of their own algorithm.
Too often, personal experiences lead to dehumanization, mockery, and bullying. “I don’t need to hear from weirdo-creeps who were in the occult.” Instead of expecting human interaction in an inhuman medium, share less about yourself. Build an argument that doesn’t depend on your own personal experience or struggles. Share those deeper insights with people you can trust and treat the online public as you would strangers on a late-night bus.
Pray
Most importantly, pray for charity. Pray for the blogger or video maker who disgusts you the most. Pray that your own sensitivities don’t get in the way of your good sense. Pray for our priests, particularly those who – for whatever reason – have chosen to live in the harsh blue-glow of social media scrutiny. And pray especially that Christ will help you to see through the cultivated and highly lucrative drama of the online world to the wandering souls on the other side of the screen.
Let’s entrust Fr. Ripperger, all his followers, and all his detractors, to the abundant love of Christ, who understands their hearts and minds better than we ever will. Write and speak about them all with charity when you have to, love silence whenever you can, turn off the computer – and especially the smartphone. It’s spring. Outside my little house the rain is pouring down and the ducks are ecstatic. “The earth is like a child who knows poems by heart,” as the poet Rilke wrote long ago – go out to meet that Child and learn a poem or two – Internet arguments can always wait till spring is over.
