The new Dutch courage of social media

"Gentlemen, take your positions" were often some of the last words heard by 18th and 19th century disputants just before their disagreements were permanently settled by a ball of deadly lead.  Dueling with a loaded pistol was the last resort in settling a dispute among gentlemen and gave some consolation to the injury of a besmirched reputation or tarnished honor. According to the Smithsonian Magazine, even George Washington was nearly involved in one, "The story, as Parson Weems tells it, is that in 1754 a strapping young militia officer named George Washington argued with a smaller man, one William Payne, who made up for the disparity in size by knocking Washington down with a stick. It was the kind of affront that, among a certain class of Virginia gentlemen, almost invariably called for a duel. That must have been what Payne was expecting when Washington summoned him to a tavern the following day. Instead, he found the colonel at a table with a decanter of wine and two glasses. Washington apologized for the quarrel and the two men shook hands. Whether or not this actually happened—and some biographers believe that it did—is almost beside the point. Weems’ intention was to reveal Washington as he imagined him: a figure of profound self-assurance capable of keeping an overheated argument from turning into something far worse. At a time in America when the code of the duel was becoming a law unto itself, such restraint was not always apparent."

Today, a couple centuries later, we consider ourselves infinitely more civilized, preferring instead to sully each other's reputations and spread disparaging comments and lies from behind the safety of a Facebook or Twitter account. "Take that," we say as we plunge our electronic epithets deep into the boundless ether of the Internet with nary a worry or second thought about the long-term consequences to ourselves or others. We are the new warriors that approach the battlefield of personal contact remotely and without body armor. Spurred on by a politically-correct climate, campus safe zones and a complicit media we feel comfortable in lashing out at people who disagree with us from our computer or smartphone. No battlefield medics needed here, for there is no spilt blood. The only wounds requiring attention are those of our online reputations. Without the ability to confront one another, personally, we are resigned to sending rebuttals through the protagonist's medium. We cannot swat our opponent with our coat sleeve hanky and then choose pistols or swords, so the contest then becomes one of who can scream the loudest in print or mobilize the most Twitter followers to flood the zone with 'likes.'

Those of us who grew up in an America that didn't fear personal intercourse are disheartened to say the least by the new Dutch courage of the (un)social media. It is 30,000 ft. warfare, not hand-to-hand combat. Our enemy's face is protected by a hash tag and our fight is fought in darkness. We see no cuts or bruises and are incapable of feeling remorse (even if we wanted to) after landing a staggering blow to the body. Instead, we employ exclamation points, upper case letters, bold print and the occasional expletive to replace jabs and uppercuts.

This is not courageous; it is cowardly. Had we our opponents standing nose-to-nose with us or at least in the same room would we dare be so provocative or callous? Would our tone be as combative and antagonistic, and would our words be selected for total and immediate destruction? I doubt it, because most civilized men listen to their instincts instead of their testosterone and choose a different tack when they find themselves in potentially explosive situations. Not so with social media. There are no holds barred, no illegal punches. Everything is allowed. Attack a person's veracity, their motives or their family. Nothing is out of bounds, and if you're ever criticized for your criticism, say that they had it coming and you were just doing your duty to the 'community.'

It's time to engage our opponents, personally, but first we must come out from under the cover of our mother's skirts and leave Facebook and Twitter to lesser men and women.

Stephan Helgesen is a retired U.S. diplomat, now author and political strategist. He has written over 600 articles and six books on politics, economics and social trends. He can be reached at stephan@stephanhelgesen.com