Volpeon ExtraOn microblogging and how it normalizes fascist methods of control.
This is a post I made somewhere else and mostly just pasted below. It therefore repeats some of the points I keep making on this account.
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If we look at our lives outside of social media, we see that we interact with different people in different settings all the time. We chat with coworkers at the office about annoying customers, or talk about personal topics with family members. With very close friends we're willing to talk about personal topics, but only if we're in a more private space rather than, say, a cafe. The standards dictating our behavior change depending on the context: the people involved, our relationship with them, the setting and possibly other factors.
Microblogging is often portrayed as a mirror of society, a global space in which participants organize themselves organically and interact with each other as usual. Want to be part of the furry community? Just follow a bunch of furries. Sounds easy enough, and indeed that's how people use these platforms. And that's a problem because it's all a lie. You follow people as one whole package, but people are rarely all about one topic. You will see anything they post, repost and quote, regardless of whether it's the art they create or a statement about the current political climate. You will see it all in your timeline, and conversely this means that you can never be certain of who is going to see your posts. A post intended for fellow insect enthusiasts may end up in someone's timeline with a phobia of insects, who demands such posts be hidden behind a content warning. The "global town square" is a paradigm of chaos with endlessly clashing standards because it doesn't work at all the way we expect.
And now I can finally get to the crux of this post: I can see how social media normalizes certain aspects of fascism to its users, or at least I can see it very clearly with microblogging.
Communities on these platforms are loosely established by proximity with (i.e. following) other members, which leads to them only being able to exist as monoliths on the network. People use phrases such as "the _ community on Bluesky" or "furry twitter", so they understand that this is the case, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone question the implications: On other platforms or in the outside world, there can be multiple communities for the same subject with varying standards and values. You may withdraw temporarily or join a different community if you don't feel comfortable somewhere. On Bluesky, Twitter et al, this is impossible.
On the one hand, the situation you're placed in as a user feels reminiscent of being the target of surveillance. No matter who my posts are intended for, they're going to be broadcast to anyone, even people I would choose to exclude to avoid unnecessary conflict. If I write about my views on identity which some therians will appreciate and many won't, then the latter will see my posts nonetheless and feel compelled to react. They will voice their displeasure, come up with unfavorable interpretations behind my back, and maybe even show up to tell me how wrong I am. You automatically start to think about how your words might be received by this huge mass of people and maybe choose to remain silent after all.
On the other hand, the reverse is true as well: You get used to the idea that anyone's activity can be seen by you, that you're entitled to have a full view of "your" community, and that opposing undesired views is an act of preserving community values. It's easy to forget that in doing so, you may be part of a repressive majority because you leave the minority no place on the network to just be. And others will consciously take advantage of this dynamic and wield their popularity as a weapon.
#volpeonWrites
This is a post I made somewhere else and mostly just pasted below. It therefore repeats some of the points I keep making on this account.
--
If we look at our lives outside of social media, we see that we interact with different people in different settings all the time. We chat with coworkers at the office about annoying customers, or talk about personal topics with family members. With very close friends we're willing to talk about personal topics, but only if we're in a more private space rather than, say, a cafe. The standards dictating our behavior change depending on the context: the people involved, our relationship with them, the setting and possibly other factors.
Microblogging is often portrayed as a mirror of society, a global space in which participants organize themselves organically and interact with each other as usual. Want to be part of the furry community? Just follow a bunch of furries. Sounds easy enough, and indeed that's how people use these platforms. And that's a problem because it's all a lie. You follow people as one whole package, but people are rarely all about one topic. You will see anything they post, repost and quote, regardless of whether it's the art they create or a statement about the current political climate. You will see it all in your timeline, and conversely this means that you can never be certain of who is going to see your posts. A post intended for fellow insect enthusiasts may end up in someone's timeline with a phobia of insects, who demands such posts be hidden behind a content warning. The "global town square" is a paradigm of chaos with endlessly clashing standards because it doesn't work at all the way we expect.
And now I can finally get to the crux of this post: I can see how social media normalizes certain aspects of fascism to its users, or at least I can see it very clearly with microblogging.
Communities on these platforms are loosely established by proximity with (i.e. following) other members, which leads to them only being able to exist as monoliths on the network. People use phrases such as "the _ community on Bluesky" or "furry twitter", so they understand that this is the case, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone question the implications: On other platforms or in the outside world, there can be multiple communities for the same subject with varying standards and values. You may withdraw temporarily or join a different community if you don't feel comfortable somewhere. On Bluesky, Twitter et al, this is impossible.
On the one hand, the situation you're placed in as a user feels reminiscent of being the target of surveillance. No matter who my posts are intended for, they're going to be broadcast to anyone, even people I would choose to exclude to avoid unnecessary conflict. If I write about my views on identity which some therians will appreciate and many won't, then the latter will see my posts nonetheless and feel compelled to react. They will voice their displeasure, come up with unfavorable interpretations behind my back, and maybe even show up to tell me how wrong I am. You automatically start to think about how your words might be received by this huge mass of people and maybe choose to remain silent after all.
On the other hand, the reverse is true as well: You get used to the idea that anyone's activity can be seen by you, that you're entitled to have a full view of "your" community, and that opposing undesired views is an act of preserving community values. It's easy to forget that in doing so, you may be part of a repressive majority because you leave the minority no place on the network to just be. And others will consciously take advantage of this dynamic and wield their popularity as a weapon.
#volpeonWrites
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