The Strange Magnetism of Virtual Fisticuffs

What happens when a fairly obscure writer for religious and conservative magazines and websites picks a fight with a Christian YouTube celebrity with over 200,000 followers? I can tell you from personal experience, and though the encounter was far less hostile than I anticipated, it confirmed suspicions I’ve had about social-media discourse and religious-celebrity culture.

This past Lent I came across an article about Lizzie Estella Reezay, a prominent YouTube personality who had announced her conversion from evangelical Protestantism to Catholicism. Intrigued, I watched some of her videos (her channel is called “LizziesAnswers”). Amid the emojis and general emotiveness, I perceived some errors and half-truths. Her followers seemed unaware of this, instead lauding her as the next great Catholic evangelist. So I wrote an article for a small religious webzine that was half critique, half admonition. Though I welcomed Lizzie into the Church, I was admittedly a little antagonistic, my language at times a bit harsh.

Weeks went by without any response. I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. Months later, a friend directed me back to Lizzie’s YouTube channel, where I discovered a new video she had posted devoted entirely to my article. She poked fun at it, even performing a “dramatic reading” of excerpts. Though she accused me of misrepresenting her and taking her out of context, she also praised my writing and acknowledged that some of my cautions and concerns were legitimate. She promised to make changes to her channel. Whatever minor mockery she made of me and my article, I considered this a “win.”

But I was disconcerted by the hundreds of comments her fans had posted to her video. Some accused me of jealousy, self-righteousness, judgmentalism, and being “butt hurt” — whatever that means. Others called my article ugly, unwelcoming, and offensive. And despite Lizzie’s praise of my writing, some derided my other work as obnoxious. More perplexing were the many commenters who urged their heroine to ignore “attacks” from young Protestant “know-it-alls” with little life experience. (News flash: I’m a Catholic, and I have some life experience as a husband, father of three, and Afghan War veteran.) This Internet chatter underscores my first apprehension: Social media often fails to facilitate civilized discourse and too easily traffics in misrepresentations of information.

The many criticisms Lizzie’s fans leveled against me were in direct opposition to her own comments, which were more or less fair, and often gracious and charitable. The barbs and misportrayals seem a fulfillment of Marshall McLuhan’s insight that “the medium is the message”: The intrinsic clickbait character of social media — with its emphasis on eye-catching, abridged, and “trending” topics — fosters an intellectual culture long on controversy and short on patience. Consider another example from the video: Its title refers to my article as a “hate letter lol jk,” which means Lizzie does not consider it hateful. Yet plenty of Lizzie’s followers subsequently labeled me a “hater.” The sarcasm of this playful jab is lost in the world of YouTube, and it unintentionally incited a multiplicity of attacks on my character.

A strange, perhaps unforeseen consequence of relativism and pluralism in the West is a growing incompetence regarding criticism. This is particularly evident in online discourse, nauseating either in its vapid, unreflective positivity or its obnoxious, infantile put downs and pontification. Netizens oscillate between extremes, taking great offense at any critique of a person or his positions and carelessly dispensing aggressive ad hominems at perceived foes. Few seem to understand, let alone apply, Aristotle’s golden mean, that virtuous middle ground that allows one to criticize in charity.

Pope Francis’s apostolic exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate (2018) speaks exactly to this:

Christians too can be caught up in networks of verbal violence through the internet and the various forums of digital communication. Even in Catholic media, limits can be overstepped, defamation and slander can become commonplace, and all ethical standards and respect for the good name of others can be abandoned. The result is a dangerous dichotomy, since things can be said there that would be unacceptable in public discourse, and people look to compensate for their own discontent by lashing out at others. It is striking that at times, in claiming to uphold the other commandments, they completely ignore the eighth, which forbids bearing false witness or lying, and ruthlessly vilify others. Here we see how the unguarded tongue, set on fire by hell, sets all things ablaze. (no. 115)

The Internet and social media provide unprecedented opportunities to communicate with others about religion, politics, and just about everything else. But it is inherently anonymous and atomizing, a shoddy replica of true human interaction. We should be clear about its limitations and avoid grasping to emulate the latest ephemeral fashion. Otherwise we submit to a paradigm in which we become, as political scholar Patrick J. Deneen put it, “increasingly separate, autonomous, nonrelational selves…defined by our liberty, but insecure, powerless, afraid, and alone” (Why Liberalism Failed, 2018). If we do appropriate such tools, we must counteract their dehumanizing tendencies with more prayer, more patience, and more charity.

Inseparably linked to the dilemma of social-media discourse is the problem of celebrity culture, which infects even comparatively small religious subcultures. Whenever I’ve critiqued the writings of high-profile Christians, their followers have invariably sped to their defense, attacking me and accusing me of going after players on the “same team.” How dare I criticize other Christians! It is reminiscent of when Catholic apologist and blogger Mark Shea took offense to an article in the NOR that critiqued a book by biblical scholar and celebrity convert Scott Hahn (“Scott Hahn’s Novelties,” June 2004). Reading Shea’s many vitriolic responses, you’d think the author, Edward O’Neill, had questioned the divinity of Jesus or the veracity of the Bible rather than a fallible academic. Even more amazing, Shea admitted he hadn’t bothered to read O’Neill’s article! The fact that it questioned Hahn was enough to set Shea’s tongue ablaze.

Both Acts and Galatians relate the story of St. Paul’s public confrontation with St. Peter in Antioch, a response to the latter’s distancing himself from Gentile converts. In fact, Christian history is littered with battles between members of the faith, be they the spats between St. Augustine and St. Jerome in the fifth century or between Jesuits and Dominicans over predestination in the wake of the Protestant Reformation. Disagreements within Christianity serve to sharpen the faith and the faithful’s intellects, expose erroneous or heretical ideas, and even demonstrate to the world how to argue in charity and good faith. I like to think that the discourse at Called to Communion, an online ecumenical forum with which I am affiliated that seeks to foster dialogue with Reformed Protestants, exemplifies this.

One of the lesser-known decrees of Vatican II is Inter Mirifica, on “The Means of Social Communication,” which offers helpful guidance and warnings that are relevant to our hyper-celebritized, social-media-driven culture. The decree welcomes “technological discoveries” that enable man to communicate “views and teachings of every sort.” Yet, it warns, “men can employ these media contrary to the plan of the Creator and to their own loss.” Particularly, we must consider the “precise manner in which a given medium achieves its effect. For its influence can be so great that men, especially if they are unprepared, can scarcely become aware of it.” How often have we found ourselves drawn into the strange magnetism of unprofitable virtual fisticuffs?

Yes, as the decree states, new forms of media “with the aid of appropriately heightened dramatic effects, can reveal and glorify the grand dimensions of truth and goodness.” Moreover, we may “fully favor those presentations that are outstanding for their moral goodness, their knowledge and their artistic or technical merit.” However, we must avoid “those that may be a cause or occasion of spiritual harm…or that can lead others into danger through base example, or that hinder desirable presentations and promote those that are evil.” Though written 55 years ago, this aptly describes the perils of debate in the digital age.

The admonishments of Inter Mirifica are especially pertinent to those increasingly dependent on social media:

Those who make use of the media of communications, especially the young, should take steps to accustom themselves to moderation and self-control in their regard. They should, moreover, endeavor to deepen their understanding of what they see, hear or read. They should discuss these matters with their teachers and experts, and learn to pass sound judgments on them.

The terms moderation and self-control are not ones we think of as emblematic of social media or celebrity culture, even those of a religious nature. Indeed, in the digital age the number of self-described “teachers and experts” who acquire large cult followings has greatly multiplied. It takes surprisingly little to acquire a fan base in the thousands. In the early years of the Internet’s explosive growth in popularity, Pope St. John Paul II wrote that “the world of mass media also has need of Christ’s redemption” (Il Rapido Sviluppo, “The Rapid Development,” 2005). How much greater that need is today!

The teachings of Francis, John Paul II, and Vatican II are, of course, as applicable to social-media users and celebrities as they are to writers like me. I confess that at times I’ve failed to exemplify the moderation or charity I’m preaching here. Yet I desperately want to avoid participation in what Nathanael Blake called the “digital panopticon,” a system of control that is “ruled as much by mobs as by the overseers,” and is defined by “tribal warfare and scapegoating” (“What’s Scariest: Facebook, Google…or Us?” Public Discourse, May 9). Blake suggests that the best way out is to simply delete our social-media accounts, which is certainly one way to avoid echo chambers in which we confirm our views and belittle our opponents. Yet for those who see the potential for good in the digital means of communication, with their ability to share the truth with a diverse, global audience, we must invite Christ and His redeeming power into every last forum of the Internet. If we don’t, we may all turn out to be “haters.”

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