Trolls, moral outrage and a realignment Free

In the early 1990s, the internet transitioned from a medium used by tech insiders, scientists and the military to a commercialized media system used by nearly everyone. In 1989, Tim Berners-Lee created the World Wide Web, which organized the bits and bytes into a space where information was readily accessed and consumed. There was tremendous optimism that the internet will be a democratizing force in the world. As Berners-Lee (1999) said, “The Web is more a social creation than a technical one. I designed it for human beings to use, and it's an open platform for communication and sharing, empowering people to engage in meaningful dialogue” (p.63). There was a sense that people will now have the power to not only express themselves but also to receive information from many sources and to interact with the creators. The internet will create a digital town hall.

Arendt (1958) talked about the importance of what she called the public realm, where people gather to discuss important concerns. “The public realm, the space of appearance, comes into being wherever men are together in the world and they begin to disclose themselves to each other” (p.199). She taught that this public realm is closely connected to freedom, as in political freedom, “Freedom is the essence of the political; it is in the public realm that men act and speak in such a way that their actions are visible and can be seen by others” (p. 146). This contrasted with the private realm, where money, family and credentials were central. Arendt feared that modernity had taken away this sense of the public and prioritized the private. Early tech enthusiasts imagined the internet to be a digital town hall, or public realm, that could fill this democratic need. Through connecting online, people could prioritize the issues, the concerns and the needs of the population before the political and business class spun the truth to their advantage. Thirty years after its introduction to the public, I think it is safe to say that this digital public realm never materialized, and it is unlikely to do so.

This hope for a digital public realm emerged against a backdrop of a media system dominated by the big three networks. This media system was owned by the wealthy and aimed at attracting wealthy eyeballs to corporate advertisements. There was little room in that information economy for representing the interests of the poor. The couch potatoes had few choices and fewer avenues to respond in ways to make their own voice heard. Thus, when the internet emerged, its promise of being a decentralized networked media system provided hope. It was celebrated as a move away from the big networks, where everyday people would create their own network. Voices that were not given space before would have the opportunity to express themselves to an audience of peers. The era of the couch potato was over because the people themselves would be the media creators and would have a plethora of choices to consume and share information. Democracy was sure to be in good hands, ours.

There was a parallel hope that that democratizing of information would significantly liberate classrooms. As the students' informal curriculum becomes democratized, schools could provide a space to practice the skills necessary for the public realm (Greenhow & Lewin, 2015). The informal curriculum refers to the activities engaged in outside of school that are not “prescribed, orchestrated, or monitored,” yet are educative in that students internalize “the continuous stream of momentary experiences … with varying degrees of awareness, protest, and satisfaction” (McCaslin & Good, 2019, p. 622). As teens spend over seven hours a day of their waking lives online, the internet is a significant part of their informal curriculum.

Arendt (1961) articulated her own crisis in education, “School is by no means the world … it is rather the institution that we interpose between the private domain of home and the world in order to make the transition from the family to the world” (pp. 188–189). On one hand, schools must establish authority and honor tradition, but not to the degree that it makes students unable to respond to a changing reality. “To preserve the world … it must be constantly set right anew. The problem is simply to educate in such a way that a setting–right remains actually possible” (1951, p.210). The crisis she articulates is the crisis between the evolving informal curriculum and the standard school curriculum. Specific to my concern, if our students' informal curriculum is dominated by the proliferation of moral outrage, then how must critical pedagogy adapt to allow them to transform the world?

The utopic projections were not based on the actual experience of discussing social issues online. Godwin's Law (see epigraph) was coined and shared in 1990, just as these promises were being extolled. Those who were having actual experiences engaging in online discussions knew it generated trolling and moral outrage, as opposed to critical dialogue.

Trolling has become synonymous with many forms of antisocial online behavior: silly pranks, incessant harassment, psychopathic rants and state-hired agents manipulating populations. These behaviors may have different intent and impact, but they share similar characteristics: anonymity, emotional detachment and the responses they engender, to include shame, confusion and anger. In some instances, these cultural logics are relatively harmless and comical. But in other instances, these cultural logics are utilized for insulting, demeaning and dangerous ends. The similarities may suggest that there is an underlying social logic online that trolling reveals.

Research on trolls dates to the 1980s, where several instances were recorded on Usenet groups. Usenet was a catalog of message boards where individuals could anonymously message with others around common interests. Comic book fans, gardeners and those sharing political interests could find each other and share their enthusiasm for a given topic. An early use of the term “troll” showed up in the phrase, “trolling for newbies.” This referred to the practice of bringing up a topic that was exhaustively discussed previously and watching the new members jump on the subject like red meat. It was amusing to the troll and irritating to others. In this sense of the word, “troll” is related to the fishing technique, as opposed to the little magical creature that lives under a bridge.

Some Usenet groups were set up to discuss concerns for marginalized groups, and these boards were special targets of trolls. Herring, Job-Sluder, Scheckler, and Barab (2002) focused their research on one case of trolling in a feminist Usenet message board. They review several examples where feminist message boards dealt with harassment from trolls who would incessantly type antifeminist messages. These posts disrupted the conversations that the group was attempting to foster. The troll sat between the tension of free speech and the opportunity to have spaces that center the experiences of marginalized groups. Herring et al. delineated several categories of troll harassment: outward manifestations of sincerity, flame bait and attempts to provoke futile argument through willful misinterpretation of another's point.

In the case they analyzed, they also took note of the responses to the troll. Some would leave the group. Some wanted others to voluntarily ignore the troll. Some attempted to debate and insult the troll. Some wanted to ban the troll, but this was done with mixed feelings about being “isolationist, censorious, or admitting female weakness (an interpretation repeatedly articulated by [the troll]” (2002, p. 377). No matter what tactic was used, the troll always won (Sierra, 2014). By abandoning the space, the troll won. By ignoring them, the troll escalated attacks. And, by fighting back, they took up emotional and mental energy. The only effective response was to establish rules for engagement, monitor posts for violators and ban those who do not follow the group's protocols. Moral outrage was an obvious response to the bad behavior of the troll, and the only effective response was to discuss these matters in a walled garden. The only proper response was to create a tribe.

Some of today's criticisms of the right and the left can be seen in this case study. If we loosely associate the troll with the right and those who wanted to discuss feminism with the left, we can see how perceptions of the right being authoritarian, cruel and intolerant toward those who are on the margins of society can be justified. The left are often criticized for identifying and policing those who do not share their values. In the case of the feminist message board, one can understand the moral outrage and the response to eliminate this type of interaction from the group. But, at what point does this appropriate response to a specific situation seep too far into our informal curriculum and into our identities? As we spend more of our time and energies online, when and where do we listen to ideological differences with humility and openness? Where do we confront difference and feel free to be a distinct individual in the public realm, as Arendt advocated?

Usenet users were a relatively small group, but as the internet grew and social media sites proliferated, these types of interactions spread. Many of these dynamics metastasized through the social body, and it is now commonplace to talk about how the internet has created filter bubbles and has fractured our polity. I refer to these early examples of trolling to show the extent at which these epistemological and affective patterns are baked into the medium itself. Before cookies and advanced algorithms there was an exchange of emotions that encouraged tribalization.

Burke and Briggs (2002) teach that one media system does not replace another, but a dominant new media influences older ones. The invention of the printing press did not make speeches obsolete, and the invention of television did not make printing presses vanish. However, a new medium alters and reshapes older media's place in the social context. The legacy media must adapt their content, their form and their relationship with their audience to stay relevant. Since the increase in engagement with social media, other media have adapted to the emotional exchanges that have proven to be effective online. Today, our cable news and newspaper outlets seek niche markets and feed them stories that affirm their audience's pre-existing biases. These days, filter bubbles, triggering moral outrage and flaming those who disagree have extended well beyond social media.

Fox News was perhaps the first cable news outlet to feed biased narratives to a niche audience. This occurred in parallel with the commercialization of the internet. Roger Ailes, president and founder of Fox News, famously said, “People don't want to be informed, they want to feel informed.” This model did not stop with Fox News. It has spread across ideologies and even influences our esteemed news institutions. Consider this quote from Klein (2020), New York Times columnist formerly with BuzzFeed,

Like Ailes, Klein wants his audience to feel their identity bolstered by reading his columns. This is not about seeing something from a new angle or being challenged with a contradictory, yet informed, position. It is about identifying who you are and who you are not through information. Today, there are very few news outlets, online or otherwise, that do not try to move people with “moral-emotional” (Brady, Wills, Jost, Tucker, & Van Bavel, 2017) language to incite a deep connection to the information. Even our most serious news institutions have been drawn into the game of trolling, and moral outrage is at the center of this dynamic (Orlowski, 2020).

The use of “moral-emotional” language to incite a pre-rational and tribal response has proliferated across our media system and our politics. It has not only impacted our informal curriculum, but it has also impacted classrooms, as schools have been the location and target of many of these moral-emotional debates. Schools are often criticized for engaging in “radical left indoctrination” (Ladd, 2023). In response, divisive concept bills, banning books from school libraries and the elimination of diversity, equity and inclusion programs have become realities in many districts. Discussing controversial ideas is now fraught with danger. Through connecting the early trolling on Usenet message boards to the larger fracturing of our polity today, we better understand what the internet has wrought, the evolving realignment and the challenges of educating trolls.

In his critique, Purpel (1999) challenged the Enlightenment ideal of universal truth attained through reason. In 1979, Lyotard observed that the grand narratives put forth by science and reason were no longer compelling. “The grand narrative has lost its credibility” (p.37), particularly with the promise to emancipate human beings. Rather, truth was understood locally, in smaller communities where different cultures, traditions, experiences and epistemologies held sway. Distilled to the level of experience, the postmodernists affirm that we think not only with our minds, but with our physical bodies situated in a complex social context. This context includes cultural artifacts left from history, media tools at our disposal, engagements with people whom we have access and educational institutions that struggle through these tensions. “There is no such fully autonomous faculty of reason separate from and independent of bodily capacities such as perception and movement” (Lakoff and Johnson, p.17). This is one of the essential mistakes that early internet enthusiasts made, they imagined a “civilization of the Mind in Cyberspace” (Barlow, 1996) where bodies and identities would no longer be important and ideas would be central. The growing tribalization contradicts these assumptions, and the moral outrage that so easily courses through our bodies as we engage online just affirms its centrality.

The project of universal truth has certainly not been a project supported by the digital networks, yet it is one that is being placed on educators to distribute through standards and high-stakes tests. Why are politicians narrowing schools' curricula in a time of unbound information? There are two emotional-intellectual moves that one can make given the insight that there is no grand narrative. One can humbly assume that the truth they are working with is contingent, situated, fraught with assumptions, and open to change given new circumstances and insights. This move would support preparation for the public realm, where different interpretations could be discussed and debated. The other option is that one can lean into their own conception of truth and attempt to impress that conception into the world with organized numbers of people, rhetoric, institutions and, all the while, cast aspersions on those who disagree. The realignment in politics and education in the past twenty years stresses the latter.

Critical pedagogy seeks to transform the world, and thus we must decide how to respond pedagogically. Inciting moral outrage in the current context seems to align with the current culture that is fracturing our polity. Cultural transformation demands large coalitions, and thus it is crucial that we find spaces where we can confront information skeptically and speak to differences in an open and curious fashion. If critical pedagogues created such a space, it would present an alternative path to the informal curriculum of trolling.

So, what explains the shift in voting patterns we see between 2008 and 2024? Not coincidentally, the iPhone was introduced in 2007, which amplified our time online exponentially. In the era of the big networks, there were a few grand narratives, sourced from the government and distributed through the corporate channels. Niebuhr (1932) called them “necessary illusions,” as complex societies needed simple messages to create cohesion and stability. Intellectuals could then critique these narratives by ascertaining the contradictions and determining who benefits and suffers from these simple framings of world events. In our now networked media landscape, this approach does not work, as numerous and layered narratives and interpretations come at us without shared reference points and without knowledge of author or intent. It can be exhausting de-bunking insane readings of the world without knowing if we are dialoguing with a serious conversant, a troll or even an AI bot. In this environment, tracing the historical source of the ideas, the interests it serves, or challenging logical fallacies seems like a waste of time. It is easier to close off from ideas and people with whom we disagree. It is easier to create a tribe and find solace in a surrounding that is familiar and trustworthy. As Sunstein (2017) warns, each bubble moves to its extreme, and moral outrage at others is inevitable. Reaching across ideological boundaries to build larger coalitions seems fruitless, at best, and dangerous, at worst.

The forces tugging at the tensions of group identity and the openness to dialogue have caused some surprising shifting of our political narratives. While attitudes toward race and gender grab the headlines, it is other issues, like the role of experts, free speech, election integrity and COVID narratives, that better explain this realignment. On these cultural touchpoints, the Democrats are perceived to be the party that polices and defends the status quo. The Democrats have lost faith in individuals' abilities to ascertain a complex political, economic and social reality. Rather than advocating for people to read and think for themselves, the phrase “do your own research” has become synonymous with getting lost in a conspiracy hole (Harris, 2015). In other words, stop trolling around the internet and listen to the experts – be a couch potato. The emphasis on trust in institutions, national news and experts does not align well with the current informal curriculum.

In Manufacturing Consent, Herman and Chomsky (1988) critiqued the idea that democracy requires experts to interpret reality for the governed. Rather, they affirmed that democracy requires that people hear from a variety of opinions and from a wide representation of subject positions. Chomsky even defended the right to very distasteful political speech. In 1980, he wrote, “It is precisely in the case of horrendous ideas that the right of free expression must be most vigorously defended.” This sounds out of step with our current landscape. There are very bad actors using moral outrage to lead groups into dangerous positions. The progressive realignment on this core principle of free expression is clear. The idea of managing and manipulating public opinion has more sway in the current environment.

In 2006, the documentary Hacking Democracy investigated voting irregularities in the 2000 and 2004 elections when George W. Bush won. It was progressives that were questioning the integrity of handing our elections to private internet companies. Today, any mention of potential fraud in our election system is considered support for Donald Trump. Intellectual honesty would lead us to be very concerned about our elections when our votes are counted with private code. And, yet, the narrative has been commandeered by Trump, and progressives have been cornered into a tribal and oppositional response.

Several discourses around COVID-19 also seemed to be tribal in nature as well. Mapping the discourse of belief in science onto the pandemic response resulted in little scrutiny by Democrats of official claims of virus origination, the efficacy of masks in public and the side effects of the vaccine. Questioning pharmaceutical and official state directives was the purview of the left not long ago. These are just a few examples of realigning discourses that exemplify how Democrats have become the party that defends and polices the status quo.

CNN data divides income and voting patterns into fifths, and their numbers show that the most significant change between 2008 and 2024 was between the upper and lower middle classes. Al-Gharbi (2024) uses the term symbolic capitalist that roughly maps onto the upper middle class. The term symbolic capitalist arose from Bourdieu’s (1984) notion of symbolic capital. He defined symbolic capital as, “[That which bestows] a reputation for competence and an image of respectability and honorability that are easily converted into political positions as a local or national notable” (p. 291). Building off this idea, Musa Al-Gharbi defines symbolic capitalist as, “Someone who possesses a high level of symbolic capital, and exerts control over, and extracts profits from, the means of symbolic (re)production” (p.7). They are elites engaged in “nonmanual labor [like] academics, consultants, administrators, journalists, lawyers, people who work in finance and tech and so on” (p.8). These educated workers may believe in their own ability to discern information with a greater filter for dogma and misinformation; however, there is ample research that suggests otherwise. They, too, are vulnerable to propaganda, dogma and tribalism. Loewen (1995) argues that the more educated population is more reliant on the status quo for their identity and wealth. A symbolic capitalist is more likely to believe in government spokespeople, corporate and military leaders, and the mainstream news. Several studies show that symbolic capitalists act even more tribal and more partisan than the uneducated. Joslyn and Haider-Markel (2014) put it this way:

Symbolic capitalists know well that our society is fragmented and separated by filter bubbles, and yet, they believe themselves to be immune from the phenomenon. However, the “moral-emotional” language supersedes the reflective training that education provides. Even though symbolic capitalists are plenty aware of the danger caused by the fragmentation of our polity, their education does not prevent them from acting tribal. This is the moment where Purpel requires us to be reflective, to conjoin our moral outrage with critical questioning.

Below I share a couple of memes I collected off my Facebook timeline from other symbolic capitalist friends. I am often surprised at the callous shots educated people will take on uneducated people in the name of universal truth and justice. Symbolic capitalists are trolls, too.

In Figure 1, (https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=6903269989683920&id=114517875225866&set=a.115969958413991), the people who questioned the efficacy of wearing face masks during COVID are compared with the Ku Klux Klan. This ignores the many African Americans who were skeptical of state medical directives at that time. In Figure 2 (https://www.reddit.com/r/Hasan_Piker/comments/1eides2/nobody_is_treading_on_you_youre_weird/), we see the words “You're Weird” imposed on a flag that is commonly seen in rural America. The phrase refers to the way VP candidate Tim Walz described Donald Trump in 2024. Memes like this are ways that symbolic capitalists strengthen group identity and announce to the world who they are and who they are not. These are not directed toward leaders, but rather they are directed at fellow citizens. These are not nuanced critiques or attempts to understand or persuade. This is trolling. Pure unadulterated trolling. We are all trolls, now.

We are still in the early days of this media transition, and it has been more than a bumpy ride. If television is a sedative, the internet is a stimulant, and shifting from one to the next at breakneck speed has been a challenge. Moral outrage has become ubiquitous throughout our social world, and thus, using it to incite students to care about social justice will only reinforce those cascading impacts we see throughout our digital social lives. Critical pedagogues must get off the moral outrage loop and find ways to humanize others across ideological differences. If we are all trolls now, then I am left with several questions about how to educate ourselves and the next generation. Can we create “safe spaces” that are safe for intellectual disagreement? Can schools help mitigate some of the worst psychosocial impacts that the internet has wrought? Can schools be important places to foster conversations and connections across ideological differences?

I am under no illusions that any suggestion I make here will be easy to implement in our current educational environment dominated by devaluing the humanities, overvaluing STEM and high-stakes testing. Nonetheless, I take heed from Purpel (1999) that it is imperative to give voice to a moral vision. There will be another paradigm shift at some point, and the better we are prepared with a vision that appeals across tribal affiliations, the more likely we are to mobilize a movement that can free us from the current strictures.

First, we must consider the ways the recent attacks on public education are in step and out of step with the digital technologies. While our students' informal digital lives are filled with taking in information that triggers, the educational system has attempted to lock down what is considered legitimate information. In this way, it is out of step. It is not only irrelevant to the informal curriculum of the students, but it is also completely boring in comparison. However, these policies are in step with our digital lives in that they turn behaviors into data and evidence (Zuboff, 2019). The project of learning has been stripped down to rote memorization for easy data collection. Art and music classrooms are being vacated for data rooms. Turning the learning process into data is an extension of what computers do well: they compute.

Any real educational reform must also consider the social context as well. If we are to imagine a liberating curriculum in schools, we must begin by imagining a less manipulative informal curriculum. We must imagine policies that distribute power more equitably across the social body. This means recognizing that IT companies are mind- and behavior-controlling entities and regulating them, as such. Just like we have laws about how far governments and religions can use their powerful influence over people, we must regulate IT companies to protect people from undue influence. The Fourth Amendment of our constitution can provide a useful framework:

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched and the persons or things to be seized.

This was written to prevent arbitrary searches in response to frustrations of British rule in colonial America. In online spaces we are not secure in our persons and effects while companies extract our behavior and data to sell or use for manipulative purposes (Zuboff, 2019). There is no reason for online spaces to forego these same rights to personal privacy guaranteed in the constitution.

To this end, IT monopolies can be converted to public utilities. Monopolies are made when the cost of entry is too high and the distribution of the service or good is cheap (Hindman, 2009). That seems to be the case with online searching and social media. The utility of these platforms is not improving, and the cost of entry is too great for competition. The only part getting more sophisticated is the unnecessary extraction and interpretation of emotional and behavior data. As a public utility, the code would be public and scrutinized by civic and consumer advocates. It would eliminate the manipulative underbelly that pushes the most outrageous content to keep our attention.

While this technology is here to stay, there is no future paradise that will be constructed by learning from a box that is made up of ones and zeroes. Nonetheless, we already see cracks as more no-phone policies are going into effect (Walker, 2024). One important characteristic that schools offer is the presence of bodies. Students and educators with various experiences occupy the same physical space. Sherry Turkle urges us to “reclaim conversation” in all the spheres we inhabit. “Face-to-face conversation is the most human—and humanizing—thing we do” (p.3). In conversation, we must be in the moment and respond to the person in front of us in real time. This enables us to build empathy and refine our thoughts in the face of another. It feels odd to think of an activity as commonplace as conversation and sharing physical space as radical. However, perhaps more unusual is the scarcity of conversation and presence in our current moment. Building curricula around conversation does seem like a productive, if not radical, move now. Obviously, trolling should not be tolerated, but we must model the difference between abuse and disagreement, as internet communication often conflates the two.

More radical is the work of Arlie Hochschild. In 2012, she recognized her progressive bubble in Berkeley, CA, and her response was to seek out the most Republican county in the US to form relationships with people who she does not encounter in her everyday life. She wanted to know their “deep story.” Strangers in their Own Land (2016) focused on her ethnography work in Louisiana. She had to “take her alarm bells off” when they expressed opinions that would be ridiculed in Berkeley, and she strived to “climb the empathy wall.” While the internet is effective at amplifying voices, it does not amplify our ability to listen. When we define people by a set of ideological positions, we reduce them to an object rather than as a dialectical being enmeshed in a social context of experiences and relationships. As our society fragments ideologically and geographically, it is important to seek out human interactions with those we stereotype and those our tribe disparages. I find that her work meets the challenge of the moment in ways that other scholarship does not. We must find ways to immerse our students in difference, particularly immersed in differences that they disparage. A curriculum for trolls encourages connection and engagement across ideological differences to counter the moral outrage and tribalization that occur so easily in digital spaces.

It may sound simple, but connecting with those who think differently may be the most countercultural curriculum critical pedagogy can produce now. Perhaps that is because the simple things are missing from our lives: presence and conversation. The ubiquitous moral outrage is not reducing the suffering but rather exacerbating it. While Purpel saw a lack of moral outrage, at this moment we have a lack of critical thought. We need both to better negotiate the realigning landscape. Perhaps, the response to a couch potato is to incite outrage, but to an internet troll, a more radical curriculum is to encourage connection, presence and communication across ideological differences. We must find humanity in the ideological other with the hope that larger coalitions of multi-ethnic, multi-racial, working-class people can rebuild our broken social systems.