Dissense

The previous discussions conflate two separate but related concerns implicated by the echo-chamber phenomenon: first, that it calcifies political opinions; and second, that it fosters political extremism. I agree with Mr. Goodwin that modern media augment, rather than discourage, engagement with alternative ideas. However, this tale of optimism ignores the protective shroud the Web affords extremist worldviews. Those seeking comfort in Goodwin’s Panglossian perspective on the Internet are unlikely to find solace among the incoherent, racist tirades of YouTube’s comments section or the typo-rdiden annals of Uncle Cletus’s blog about his trip to Cucamonga.

Ideally, the marketplace of ideas serves as an analytic sieve, filtering the rational from the ridiculous, regardless of the source. In reality, though, we tend to patronize our preferred vendors. For minds to be changed, an argument should be compelling, but its purveyor must be credible. And how do idea-consumers evaluate a speaker’s credibility? By ascertaining the degree to which a speaker’s views comport with their own. As open-minded as one claims to be, no one’s views on the alternative minimum tax will change after reading a Washington Post Op-Ed by Osama bin Laden. Persuasion is one part reasoning and ten parts packaging.

But here’s the irony: echo-chambers like the Internet actually facilitate self-questioning, meaningful engagement, and opinion transformation, since each additional agreeable voice presents another opportunity to persuade. Exposed only to documentaries sullied by the odious corpulence of Michael Moore, a right-winger’s views are apt to ossify; but presenting him with Andrew Sullivan’s conservative case for gay marriage may spur introspection. Your average liberal may loathe the unreflective hawkishness of Sean Hannity and his herd of fawning devotees; but perusing the musings of Christopher Hitchens might shift her position on the War in Afghanistan towards that of the irascible Fox pundit. Ultimately, the windbaggery of a few favored television pundits and newspaper editorialists provides fewer chances for conversion than the myriad political lamentations of the Internet. Not every RCP link precipitates a metanoia, but it sure improves the odds.

Yet that’s only half the story. 9/11 conspiracy theories abound; hordes casually speculate on President Obama’s religion and citizenship status. The most conservative Democrat in Congress is now distinctly to the left of the most liberal Republican. Ours is a culture (ideologically) divided against itself.

In many ways, this phenomenon transcends the internet. Few would question the popular public perception that our present political parties persistently pontificate partisan platitudes at an unprecedented progression. But while political polarization may be rooted in complex sociological factors, the Internet only exacerbates matters.

Much of the problem concerns anonymity. Hotgrrl81 unreservedly proclaims what real-world Jennifer Smith dares not whisper. The Web also promotes an unhealthy perception of distance, of “virtuality.” Users perceive the Internet as a world without repercussion. But like real-world one-night stands, these guiltless, vicious political rants spread a virulent disease: an extremist worldview. Whether or not it moderates private opinions, fear of social sanction mollifies public expression.

The Internet’s virtual soapboxes, on the other hand, safely congregate hate-filled whack-jobs. The lone crazy then realizes that he is really but one among a host of crazies, and perceives his own opinions as less aberration than inspiration. In the sanctuary of cyberspace, two is company, three’s a Tea Party.

Interconnectedness expands perspectives, but it does not moderate them. Progress has its costs. And in the end, extremism may prove to be an acceptable, albeit unavoidable, price to pay for ideological diversity.