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A review by bookph1le
So You've Been Publicly Shamed by Jon Ronson
5.0
Superb. I'm extremely interested in cognitive dissonance, and this book is a study in it--the author even references it at one point. Reading this book goes a little something like this: think about those times when you swelled with pride in your utter conviction in the rightness of your righteous fury and righteous indignation. Now, look at those episodes from another perspective, one in which you reflect on the real cost of the damage your righteous indignation may have caused another human being. Squirm. Repeat. It really makes you rethink grabbing your torch and pitchfork and joining the social media mob.
This one is a must-read.
Ronson starts his book off by recounting a personal story. A group of men who made highfalutin' claims to conducting some sort of social experiment set up a Twitter account using Ronson's name, though they claim they weren't trying to pretend to be him. This account began sending out Tweets that made Ronson fear that his friends and family would mistake them for some alternate universe of himself. He confronted the men on camera, the video was uploaded to YouTube, and commenters promptly began to wage a shame war on the perpetrators that ultimately ended with their taking down the fake Twitter account. Ah, sweet justice. Or was it?
This episode made Ronson begin to wonder what happens to the people on the receiving end of an Internet mob's rage. Through digging into the stories of and conducting interviews with well-know people like disgraced author and journalist Jonah Lehrer and ordinary, previously unknown people like Justine Sacco, Ronson provides a vivid and disturbing picture of what happens to the people on the receiving end of vigilante-style justice and raises interesting philosophical questions about what this means for our larger culture.
I feel like I should slap a big disclaimer here: I am not defending the actions of these people. I'm not taking any positions in this review, other than to point out what I found was the most powerful message of this book: are you so sure this can't happen to you? While it's one thing for the Internet to bring real criminal actions to light and ensure they don't go unpunished, it's another thing for someone who does something stupid or ill-conceived to be subjected to the same scrutiny, isn't it? After all, how many of us can say we've never made a tasteless joke or said something others might construe as offensive because we thought it was "safe" to do so? In this digital age, when we're all trying to express ourselves in 140 characters or less, it's far easier for that message to reach an audience we didn't intend it to reach.
Of course, the counter-argument runs like this: if you didn't want people to see it, you shouldn't have posted it. This is similar to the argument that those female celebrities who took nude photos that were stolen shouldn't have taken the photos in the first place. What is privacy in this day and age? This book's strength is that it not only makes you ponder these questions, it makes you ponder whether the scorched earth campaign waged against people like Justine Sacco is justified. At the end of the day, her life has not only been damaged, but destroyed, and it may remain that way forever, thanks to Google taking and storing everything you've ever said online. Does the punishment really fit the crime?
You'll feel uncomfortable when you read this book, and you should. I know I did. I squirmed as I thought of the times when I jumped on the outrage bandwagon and then moved on with my life without really stopping to wonder what had become of the people on the other end of the outrage. No, I don't have a problem with people--including me--being called out for their bad behavior, but do they deserve to have their lives decimated? Do they deserve for their family and friends to have to worry about being associated with them, for fear that their names might be tainted as well? Do they deserve threats of violence? As Ronson points out, there's a reason why the stocks and pillories were phased out of our system of justice. We ought to be alarmed that they're reappearing because, digital or no, the effects they have are real and lasting.
This one is a must-read.
Ronson starts his book off by recounting a personal story. A group of men who made highfalutin' claims to conducting some sort of social experiment set up a Twitter account using Ronson's name, though they claim they weren't trying to pretend to be him. This account began sending out Tweets that made Ronson fear that his friends and family would mistake them for some alternate universe of himself. He confronted the men on camera, the video was uploaded to YouTube, and commenters promptly began to wage a shame war on the perpetrators that ultimately ended with their taking down the fake Twitter account. Ah, sweet justice. Or was it?
This episode made Ronson begin to wonder what happens to the people on the receiving end of an Internet mob's rage. Through digging into the stories of and conducting interviews with well-know people like disgraced author and journalist Jonah Lehrer and ordinary, previously unknown people like Justine Sacco, Ronson provides a vivid and disturbing picture of what happens to the people on the receiving end of vigilante-style justice and raises interesting philosophical questions about what this means for our larger culture.
I feel like I should slap a big disclaimer here: I am not defending the actions of these people. I'm not taking any positions in this review, other than to point out what I found was the most powerful message of this book: are you so sure this can't happen to you? While it's one thing for the Internet to bring real criminal actions to light and ensure they don't go unpunished, it's another thing for someone who does something stupid or ill-conceived to be subjected to the same scrutiny, isn't it? After all, how many of us can say we've never made a tasteless joke or said something others might construe as offensive because we thought it was "safe" to do so? In this digital age, when we're all trying to express ourselves in 140 characters or less, it's far easier for that message to reach an audience we didn't intend it to reach.
Of course, the counter-argument runs like this: if you didn't want people to see it, you shouldn't have posted it. This is similar to the argument that those female celebrities who took nude photos that were stolen shouldn't have taken the photos in the first place. What is privacy in this day and age? This book's strength is that it not only makes you ponder these questions, it makes you ponder whether the scorched earth campaign waged against people like Justine Sacco is justified. At the end of the day, her life has not only been damaged, but destroyed, and it may remain that way forever, thanks to Google taking and storing everything you've ever said online. Does the punishment really fit the crime?
You'll feel uncomfortable when you read this book, and you should. I know I did. I squirmed as I thought of the times when I jumped on the outrage bandwagon and then moved on with my life without really stopping to wonder what had become of the people on the other end of the outrage. No, I don't have a problem with people--including me--being called out for their bad behavior, but do they deserve to have their lives decimated? Do they deserve for their family and friends to have to worry about being associated with them, for fear that their names might be tainted as well? Do they deserve threats of violence? As Ronson points out, there's a reason why the stocks and pillories were phased out of our system of justice. We ought to be alarmed that they're reappearing because, digital or no, the effects they have are real and lasting.