On Reframing Political Arguments

A small news article in The Atlantic suggests reframing political arguments for greater impact on social media. The idea is that when communicating with someone on the other side of the ideological divide, we should present our arguments in a way that is more inclusive of their morals and values. These recommendations come with the caveat that if we cannot do this, we should consider getting off social media. This may seem straightforward to a reasonable person, and for many currently on social media, it aligns with an effort to be nice, understanding, and inclusive. It also encourages individuals to recognize their own prejudices.

So, who is The Atlantic addressing here? Do social media users—including nearly everyone outside of Europe and those of European descent or ethnically non-white—really need another Western liberal newspaper to dictate their moral agenda? While The Atlantic is welcome to contribute to the global conversation about online behavior, it should avoid framing the discussion around exclusions.

It's already challenging to navigate a sea of bot-generated responses fueled by wealthy individuals using technology to drown out dissenting opinions. We don’t need another corporate entity attempting to dictate how everyone—who already feels pressured about their opinions—should behave online and in public. For those indifferent to social media opinions, such suggestions are meaningless. It raises the question of what The Atlantic hopes to achieve with these suggestions, especially in a political and social climate that is increasingly critical of mainstream legacy news organizations for their past lies and misrepresentations. Telling readers to get off social media doesn’t seem helpful.

Or is this what is meant by "fake news"? I'm uncertain, but the decision to engage or disengage online should be personal, not something a struggling newspaper—competing for relevance in a social media-driven landscape—should dictate. Isn’t that the point we should all recognize regarding our online participation? Regardless of our previous notions of “like-minded” communities, we now have the opportunity to engage in vibrant conversations across a vast network of diverse opinions.

Despite ongoing debates around post-humanism and materialism, social media is not the monolith of like-mindedness that some would prefer. Telling others they are unwelcome in a "playground" of many resembles the behavior of a bully who seeks to silence dissent, not out of genuine disagreement, but to maintain a facade of authority. This exclusion reinforces the very issues our online presence aims to address: a world dominated by a powerful minority that prizes exclusivity.

The value in striving for a different conversation lies in how we articulate and engage with ideas. Social media should not be an exclusive forum; rather, it should embrace all voices. Whether the conversation is ultimately good or bad for us is secondary. Exclusion does not foster change; it narrows discussions and empowers those who wish to silence others.

In a world where some attempt to control online narratives, it’s essential to remember that your voice matters. You are doing something right if you find yourself opposing the silence imposed by the powerful. Fear begets fear, but many are conditioned to believe that acting against injustice is a sign of fear. I struggle to understand The Atlantic's motivations for suggesting that readers retreat from social media, especially when such a reaction may stem from feeling bullied itself.

Some views on photography

I'm interested in exploring a different type of photography and in a dynamic critique of photography as a machine for cultural production. 

I start from the idea that photography, despite its historical form as a method for producing a particular kind of social truth, has also created one type of universe, one type of view of ourselves, that, while externally humanist in its application, has now also enshrined in that process a rigid view of all of reality. 

With its recent coupling to the internet both commercially and creatively, and as the most likely form of expressing ourselves online, it has also morphed itself into the quintessential machine for reflecting a view of our inner selves as part of the everyday. 

What appears to be lacking, however, is a critique of these limitations and how that rigidity can be manipulated to produce manufactured versions of consent and conformity via the familiarity of likeness.