A phenomenon which I encounter more and more often, these days, is the case of the secret Gript reader.
The secret Gript reader comes to you via Whatsapp, or a twitter direct message, or sometimes, an encounter at a social event. They always say the same thing, more or less, and it goes something like this: “I enjoy your content. Don’t always agree, but keep up the good work. I’d like to share more of it, but, you know yourself”.
And the truth is, I do know, myself. I know exactly what they are talking about. Because I do the same thing.
There are, on occasion, tweets, or articles I read and would like to share to my social media, but do not. There are even, sometimes, articles I might like to write, and think twice about, because ultimately, to be a writer, or an activist, or any kind of participant in modern online society requires you to think about on which side your bread is buttered.
For example, it is a statement of fact that being seen, in modern Irish society, as an “anti-vaxxer” is and would be harmful not only to a person’s social reputation, but to their job prospects. Less talked about, but equally real, is that amongst some anti-lockdown activists, being seen as pro-vaccine gets you written off as “controlled opposition”, or a “big pharma shill”. That is just one issue.
There are others: if they’re interested in their own self preservation, a rational person in Ireland will not let it be known, in public, if they have views on immigration that come anywhere near the suggestion that immigration is too high. Such a person will never comment, one way or the other, on the transgender issue. A person with pro-life views, at a certain level of Irish society, will keep them quiet and never mention them in polite company.
All of these swords have two edges to them, as well: It would be pointless to ignore the fact that when you are somebody who holds several of the above views, and writes about them, then it is foolish to actively alienate the limited number of friends and supporters you already have.
And so, all of us become, to some extent, dishonest. And even bravery must always come with caveats. Several times over the past year, I have found myself either writing, or saying, the words “I am not an anti-vaxxer, but”.
In my head, of course, this is not a statement about so-called anti-vaxxers, but a statement about me: Pointing out that I have arrived at whatever position it is from a position that is broadly pro-science, and pro-vaccine, or whatever. But in reality, it’s also a shield: Don’t write me off as one of those people, please, just listen for a second.
Modern discourse is filled with sentences like that. “I’m not a climate change denier, but”. “I’m not a pro-lifer, but”. “I’m not a lockdown supporter, but”. “I’m not a Fine Gaeler/Sinn Fein supporter but”. So many of us now feel it necessary to reaffirm our allegiance to one particular tribe, or the other, all the time, that it’s barely even a conscious act any more.
All of these statements amount to apologies for admitting that the other side, terrible and wrong though they generally are, might have a point in this single, limited, instance. You never stray too far from the consensus, think very carefully about how you phrase any dissenting view, try and keep your questions as gentle, and as moderate, and as reasonable, as possible, so as not to expose yourself to charges of potential unsoundness on the issues.
All of this infests journalism in Ireland in particular. From the top to the bottom, the media is filled with people doing their best to never go too far out on the ledge, on any issue, and stick to what their audience, and, if they are really honest, their colleagues and contemporaries, will safely accept.
The problem that this creates is that those who do feel free to speak their minds freely tend to come from one of two castes in society: Those rich enough to never have to worry about being cancelled to begin with, and those poor enough to have nothing to lose. The middle classes, meanwhile, live in the constant knowledge that the safest and wisest thing to do is to keep their mouths shut on any issue of actual importance.
And so, when, last year, we published a story here about a male bodied prisoner with a penchant for rape being moved into a female only prison, it was one of our most widely read, but least shared, pieces of the year. People read it. They dared not, by and large, share it. Not worth the trouble of being thought transphobic. The rest of the media, by and large, did not write about it. Again, it is not worth the trouble of being thought the kind of journalist who would write that kind of thing.
All of this, I think, explains a lot about where we are as a society. Opposition to prevailing policy is not shouted from the mainstream, but from the fringes. That is not because opposition to prevailing policy does not exist, but because it is only from the fringes that it can safely be shouted. If you have a spouse, and two kids, to depend on you, and a job that pays you reasonably well, then it is simply not rational to air an opinion on any matter approaching controversial. And definitely not under your own name.
The impetus for writing this piece, of course, comes from what happened, the other day, to Conor O’Riordan. Conor O’Riordan works for Pfizer. He is, to use the preferred parlance, a “big pharma” guy. He is also, worse again in some people’s eyes, a Fine Gael supporter. He is evidence, if any were needed, that the impulse to silence people does not only come from “the establishment”.
Conor, for several months, has been posting covid data to social media and doing his best to interpret it for the public. He was what some of us might term a “covid optimist”, tending to emphasise the good news over the bad. On Monday, he deleted his account, after his name and job were made public by Sinn Fein supporters on social media. His apparent crime was being reasonably pally with Leo Varadkar and having an account which did not reveal his job title.
Conor, I have no doubt, feared at least a little, for his job. Just the hint of somebody’s name becoming controversial, and their employer’s name being attached, is enough to make them nervous. Only the insane would feel differently.
And there are those willing to use that as a weapon. We now live in an era where people are willing to try and financially ruin each other for the crime of disagreement on a hot button issue. I speak with some personal knowledge here: The same people who tried to ruin Conor this week tried to ruin me, too, before Christmas. Luckily, I fall into the category of people who don’t have to worry about their opinions costing them their job. If I ever get fired, it will be for good old-fashioned incompetence or gross misconduct.
The rot in our discourse did not begin with Conor O’Riordan. It began with George Hook, who was effectively fired from Newstalk for clumsily proffering an opinion with which thousands of his listeners quietly agreed. It continued with Kevin Myers. Recently, we saw an effort to “take out” DCU lecturer Mark Humphries. Not, in any case, for their conduct, but for their opinions.
The rot this causes is not immediately obvious, but it is there, and growing: When the only place from which dissent can safely be shouted is the fringes of society, the fringes will grow. Several people, in the last few months, have remarked to me that they were shocked to see this or that person sharing content from objectively extremist facebook pages. They should not be shocked: There is no other safe space to dissent, and even rational dissent, like that offered by Conor O’Riordan, is punished.
We are growing extremism, every day. I am not sure how this pattern can be stopped, without a collective decision by those of us who oppose both the fringes, and the censors, to just stop being afraid.