I still log into Plurk daily, but I visit less and frankly, haven’t started a plurk in days.
Over the past few weeks, I have had some of the worst experiences on Plurk relating to politics since I joined and became a fan. Look at the URL of this site! “Plurkaholics”, for god’s sakes.
It wasn’t something anybody “did to me”. I wasn’t attacked or flamed or scammed or stalked. I know those things have happened, or rumored to have happened, to other plurkers. There is always a risk and danger when engaging in any online conversations, whether because you can become deeply emotionally involved or because you can hide behind a mask of anonymity. It’s a natural “participation hazard”, if you will.
I like thoughtful discussions. I may have a reputation on plurk as someone who causes too much thinking because of the questions I have asked, and sometimes it can be problematic because many want to use plurk as a break from boredom or for lighthearted bantering. I embraced plurk because I believed that, unlike twitter, plurk is conducive to deep discussions, and creates selective pressure to increase participation from those interested in connecting beyond the superficial.
What turned me off Plurk was the slew of political one-liners and links to articles that have hit my timeline in weeks leading up to the election. I found that one of two things have happened when someone put this type of plurk on my timeline. Either a flurry of responses in agreement to the summary conclusions suggested by the article or the witty commentary added by the plurker, or a voice of dissent to the topic.
In case of agreement, the nature of “conversation” quickly assumes a tone that can best be described as “gleeful mockery and disgusted condemnation of anyone who would be stupid enough to even belong to that party”.
In the case of disagreement, the conversation degenerates into name-calling or mutual pinging of “gleeful mockery and disgusted condemnation of anyone who would be stupid enough to even belong to that party”. Some of the plurks were downright nasty and mean.
At one point over the past few weeks, I went online to to look up the political party % composition of the US. As of 2004, there were 39,337,282 registered Democrats and 30,593,698 registered Republicans in the U.S. To me, there are slightly more Democrats in the US than Republicans, but it’s not as if we’re talking about a fringe party (yes, there are those) candidate running for the President.
I was profoundly disappointed with the continual onslaught of soundbites not inviting to any discussion (because the plurker weren’t asking a question, but instead, stating an opinion or casting a judgment on the political party and people affiliated). I thought Plurk was different from Twitter in that the user interface allowed some form of discussion or conversation. But apparently not, where politics are concerned.
I was dismayed that people whose plurks were generally warm, kind, friendly and helpful became judgmental and mocking during weeks leading up to the election. Although I currently belong to neither major party (at least, not anymore), I found myself tempted – and caved in – to bouts of self-defense because I felt attacked for disagreeing or presenting an alternative view shared by many millions of people. I knew the numbers, and therefore I knew that it was superficial for a person to conclude that almost half of the U.S. citizens were idiots. But that was the sentiment that came across in the past few weeks.
The argument that these Plurkers were only criticizing the politicians and not the people supporting the party of the politicians is impotent. It’s like calling your baby ugly and then pointing out that you shouldn’t be so upset because YOU weren’t being called ugly, your baby was. The truth is, political affiliations are born of deep seated belief and has a slice of one’s own identity.
I’m a centrist. I have found that there is a disproportionate % of people on Twitter and Plurk who are very far away from the center. I’m increasingly finding Plurk to be a noisy, bustling, and a place I don’t really belong.