We have always taken sides. I was 16 years old when the miners’ strike started in 1984. It remains one of the most divisive issues in the UK of the last 50 years. It was a confrontation borne out of animosity between unionised labour and the Conservative Government; out of a mutual loathing between Arthur Scargill, President of the National Union of Miners, and Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister. It pitted (see what I did there…) striking miners against those who returned to work. It pitted miners against the police. Some of the hostilities between these groups remain to this day. The strike lasted a year and involved some violent battles on the picket lines. But it was a confrontation limited to the “real world”.
In the modern world of online interactions, we can wade into an issue without too much effort, and with almost unfettered hostility. Whilst there is not too much evidence on us becoming more divided in our beliefs, there is evidence of affective polarisation – of disliking those who are on the opposite side to us a lot more relative to how we like those who are on our side. Social media platforms also make it easier for us to find and engage with information that supports our preconceived ideas. Social media has also amplified the visibility of performative activism, whereby individuals or groups engage in exaggerated expressions of their beliefs. I’m sure you can all think of examples of where extreme views are not necessarily borne out of a deep-seated belief in a particular position but rather as a strategy to gain social capital with online communities.
Moreover, through their algorithmic structures, online platforms encourage and incentivise more extreme and polarised content. The more sensational the content, the greater the attention received. The concept of filter bubbles, or echo chambers, has also been identified as a significant factor contributing to performative extremity online. These are where users are predominantly exposed to information that reinforces their existing beliefs. News channels and social media companies present us with feeds that are consistent with our existing beliefs. Bubbles have been shown to lead to an escalation in the expression of extreme beliefs as a form of in group signalling. This phenomenon is compounded by the anonymity the internet often provides, which reduces social accountability and emboldens more extreme views.
Online behaviours can also spillover into real-world actions. Studies examining the relationship between online hostility and real-life behaviour typically view these forms of incivility acting more as complements for one another rather than as substitutes. In other words, when people are rude online, they are ruder in person, and then ruder still online, and so on. Investigations into cyberbullying demonstrate a correlation between online aggression and similar offline behaviours. But the causal links between online and offline rudeness remain difficult to pinpoint and, in some contexts, online spaces may serve as outlets for aggression that might otherwise manifest in more harmful offline actions, in much the same way as football rivalries can prevent more serious tribal disputes. The point is that online behaviours certainly cannot be automatically used to make inferences about offline actions.
I do wonder how much of the hostility online could be attributable to a “supply side” effect rather than being demand-driven; that is, determined by what people can easily signal about themselves as opposed to that signal being inherently valuable. The signal is almost costless, and it forces the recipient to pay attention to it. It can certainly sometimes feel as if we must have an opinion on everything – and that we must broadcast it to the world. This can then result in people caring about the signal I send about my beliefs not because it is of fundamental value to them but, rather, because its mere presence, at a minimum, forces them to consider its value.
In one way or another, we are all trying to convince ourselves and other people that we are a “good” person. People with “good” reputations benefit in all sorts of ways, from more choice in dating and labour markets, to generally being happier. Our recent dating experiment, which I discussed last week, illustrates just how important tolerance can be in some contexts, but there will be plenty of contexts within which signalling strong, and immoveable, views will benefit you. Passionately wading into an issue shows that you are a stimulating person and of good character to participate and to care. A football fan isn’t going to have many friends if they keep changing allegiances, even amongst those who support their bitter rivals. The first order condition of being a “proper” football fan is that your team never changes. Under. No. Circumstances.
If we’re going to seek to reduce affective polarisation, we need to consider the reputational incentives for people to tolerate – and hate – people with different beliefs. At the risk of ruining any reputation I might have with fellow West Ham fans, I have recently become friends with a Millwall fan. I keep reminding myself that he can’t help it. It can sometimes be helpful to remind ourselves that our beliefs are, at most, only ever fractionally chosen by us. They are determined much more for us by nature, nurture, and norms. And we should always keep in mind that a distribution of beliefs is to be expected in well-functioning societies. Variety is the spice of life and all that, even extending to Millwall fans.