I den første tid var Twitter et sted fyldt med en slags radikal skamløshed. Folk indrømmede skamfulde hemmeligheder om sig selv, og andre ville sig, "Gud, sådan er jeg også!" Folk uden en stemme opdagede at de faktisk havde en stemme, og at den var kraftfuld og velformuleret. Hvis en avis trykte en racistisk eller homofobisk klumme, opdagede vi, at vi faktisk kunne gøre ved det. Vi kunne få ram på dem. Vi kunne ramme dem med et våben som vi forstod, men de ikke gjorde -- udskamning på de sociale medier. Annoncører trak deres annoncer fra avisen. Når magtfulde mennesker misbrugte deres privilegier, kunne vi få ram på dem. Det var som en slags demokratisering af domstolene. Hierakierne blev gjort fladere. Vi ville gøre tingene bedre.
In the early days of Twitter, it was like a place of radical de-shaming. People would admit shameful secrets about themselves, and other people would say, "Oh my God, I'm exactly the same." Voiceless people realized that they had a voice, and it was powerful and eloquent. If a newspaper ran some racist or homophobic column, we realized we could do something about it. We could get them. We could hit them with a weapon that we understood but they didn't -- a social media shaming. Advertisers would withdraw their advertising. When powerful people misused their privilege, we were going to get them. This was like the democratization of justice. Hierarchies were being leveled out. We were going to do things better.
Ikke så lang tid efter, fik en vanæret populærvidenskabelig forfatter, Jonah Lehrer -- han var blevet fanget i at plagiere og falsificere citater, og han var opfyldt af skam og fortrydelse, som han fortalte mig. Han fik muligheden for at undskylde offentligt ved et fonds-arrangement. Det her ville være den vigtigste tale i hele hans liv. Måske kunne den vinde ham tilgivelse. Han vidste før han ankom at fonden ville live-streame arrangementet, men hvad han ikke vidste før han ankom var, at de havde opstillet en kæmpe Twitter feed lige ved siden af hans hoved. (Latter) Og endnu en på en skærm som han kunne se.
Soon after that, a disgraced pop science writer called Jonah Lehrer -- he'd been caught plagiarizing and faking quotes, and he was drenched in shame and regret, he told me. And he had the opportunity to publicly apologize at a foundation lunch. This was going to be the most important speech of his life. Maybe it would win him some salvation. He knew before he arrived that the foundation was going to be live-streaming his event, but what he didn't know until he turned up, was that they'd erected a giant screen Twitter feed right next to his head. (Laughter) Another one in a monitor screen in his eye line.
Jeg tror ikke at fonden gjorde det fordi de var uhyrlige. Jeg tror de var uvidende: jeg tror dette var et unikt øjeblik hvor Twitters smukke naivitet kolliderede med den mere og mere rædselsvækkende virkelighed.
I don't think the foundation did this because they were monstrous. I think they were clueless: I think this was a unique moment when the beautiful naivety of Twitter was hitting the increasingly horrific reality.
Og her er nogle af de Tweets der strømmede ind i hans synsfelt mens han forsøgte at undskylde:
And here were some of the Tweets that were cascading into his eye line, as he was trying to apologize:
"Jonah Lehrer, forsøger at være kedelig nok til at vi tilgiver ham." (Latter)
"Jonah Lehrer, boring us into forgiving him." (Laughter)
Og, "Jonah Lehrer har ikke bevist at han er i stand til at føle skam."
And, "Jonah Lehrer has not proven that he is capable of feeling shame."
Dén der må være skrevet af verdens bedste psykiater, som kan se det, på så lille en figur bag en talerstol.
That one must have been written by the best psychiatrist ever, to know that about such a tiny figure behind a lectern.
Og, "Jonah Lehrer er bare en skide sociopat."
And, "Jonah Lehrer is just a frigging sociopath."
Det der sidste ord er en meget menneskelig ting at gøre, at dehumanisere dem vi gør ondt. Det er fordi vi har lyst til at ødelægge folk, uden at få dårlig samvittighed. Forestil jer hvis dette her var en rigtig domstol, og den anklagede stod i mørket og tiggede for en chance til, mens juryen sad og råbte, "Kedeligt! Sociopat!" (Latter)
That last word is a very human thing to do, to dehumanize the people we hurt. It's because we want to destroy people but not feel bad about it. Imagine if this was an actual court, and the accused was in the dark, begging for another chance, and the jury was yelling out, "Bored! Sociopath!" (Laughter)
Det er sjovt, for når vi ser film og serier om retssager, så plejer vi at identificere os med den godhjertede forsvarsadvokat, men giv os magten, og vi bliver til den mest blodtørstige art dommere.
You know, when we watch courtroom dramas, we tend to identify with the kindhearted defense attorney, but give us the power, and we become like hanging judges.
Magten flytter sig hurtigt. Vi fik ram på Jonah fordi vi så ham som én der havde misbrugt sine privilegier, men på det her tidspunkt lå Jonah ned, og vi blev ved med at sparke, mens vi gratulerede os selv for at slå ham til plukfisk. Og det begyndte at føles mærkeligt tomt når der ikke var et magtfuldt menneske som havde misbrugt deres privilegier, som vi kunne få ram på. En dag uden en god udskamning begyndte at føles som en dag hvor vi bare trillede tommelfingre og trådte vande.
Power shifts fast. We were getting Jonah because he was perceived to have misused his privilege, but Jonah was on the floor then, and we were still kicking, and congratulating ourselves for punching up. And it began to feel weird and empty when there wasn't a powerful person who had misused their privilege that we could get. A day without a shaming began to feel like a day picking fingernails and treading water.
Jeg vil fortælle jer en historie. Den handler om en kvinde ved navn Justine Sacco. Hun var en PR medarbejder fra New York med 170 følgere på Twitter, og hun Tweetede små sarkastiske jokes til dem, som denne her fra et fly fra New York til London: [Mærkelige tysker: Du er på første klasse. Det er 2014. Køb noget deodorant." - Indre monolog mens jeg inhalerer stanken. Takker Gud for medicinalindustrien.] Så klukkede Justine lidt for sig selv, trykkede 'send', og fik ingen svar, og mærkede den tristhed vi alle mærker når internettet ikke komplimenterer os for at være morsomme. (Latter) Mørk stilhed, når internettet ikke svarer os. Og da hun kom til Heathrow, og havde lidt tid tilovers før den sidste del af rejsen, udtænkte hun endnu en lille sarkastisk joke:
Let me tell you a story. It's about a woman called Justine Sacco. She was a PR woman from New York with 170 Twitter followers, and she'd Tweet little acerbic jokes to them, like this one on a plane from New York to London: [Weird German Dude: You're in first class. It's 2014. Get some deodorant." -Inner monologue as inhale BO. Thank god for pharmaceuticals.] So Justine chuckled to herself, and pressed send, and got no replies, and felt that sad feeling that we all feel when the Internet doesn't congratulate us for being funny. (Laughter) Black silence when the Internet doesn't talk back. And then she got to Heathrow, and she had a little time to spare before her final leg, so she thought up another funny little acerbic joke:
[På vej til Afrika. Håber ikke jeg får AIDS. Det var en joke - jeg er jo hvid!]
[Going to Africa. Hope I don't get AIDS. Just kidding. I'm white!]
Og hun klukkede for sig selv, trykkede 'send', steg på flyet, fik ingen svar, slukkede sin telefon, faldt i søvn, vågnede 11 timer senere, tændte sin telefon mens flyet var ved at køre på plads ved gaten, og med det samme var der en besked fra nogen som hun ikke havde talt med siden gymnasiet, hvor der stod "Jeg er så ked af at se hvad der er ved at ske dig." Og derefter endnu en besked fra en af hendes bedste venner; "Ring til mig med det samme. Du er det mest trendene emne i hele verden på Twitter lige nu." (Latter)
And she chuckled to herself, pressed send, got on the plane, got no replies, turned off her phone, fell asleep, woke up 11 hours later, turned on her phone while the plane was taxiing on the runway, and straightaway there was a message from somebody that she hadn't spoken to since high school, that said, "I am so sorry to see what's happening to you." And then another message from a best friend, "You need to call me right now. You are the worldwide number one trending topic on Twitter." (Laughter)
Hvad der var sket var, at en af hendes 170 følgere havde sendt Tweetet til en Gawker journalist, og han retweetede det til sine 15,000 følgere: [Og nu, en sjov joke til juleferien fra IACs PR chef] Det var som et lynnedslag. Et par uger senere snakkede jeg med Gawker journalisten. Jeg emailede ham og spurgte hvordan det føltes, og han skrev "det var herligt." Og så sagde han, "Men jeg er sikker på hun har det fint."
What had happened is that one of her 170 followers had sent the Tweet to a Gawker journalist, and he retweeted it to his 15,000 followers: [And now, a funny holiday joke from IAC's PR boss] And then it was like a bolt of lightning. A few weeks later, I talked to the Gawker journalist. I emailed him and asked him how it felt, and he said, "It felt delicious." And then he said, "But I'm sure she's fine."
Men hun havde det ikke fint, for mens hun sov, havde Twitter overtaget hendes liv og skilt det ad, ét stykke ad gangen. Først kom filantroperne: [Hvis @JustineSacco's uheldige ord ... generer dig, så gør som jeg og støt @CARE's arbejde i Afrika.] [På grund af ... frastødende, racistiske tweet, donerer jeg til @care idag] Så kom de stærkt oprørte: [... har ingen ord for Justine Saccos forfærdelige, fucking racistiske tweet. Jeg er stærkt oprørt.]
But she wasn't fine, because while she slept, Twitter took control of her life and dismantled it piece by piece. First there were the philanthropists: [If @JustineSacco's unfortunate words ... bother you, join me in supporting @CARE's work in Africa.] [In light of ... disgusting, racist tweet, I'm donating to @care today] Then came the beyond horrified: [... no words for that horribly disgusting racist as fuck tweet from Justine Sacco. I am beyond horrified.]
Var nogle af jer på Twitter den aften? Et par stykker. Overvældede Justine's joke jeres Twitter feeds ligesom den gjorde med min? Det gjorde den med min, og jeg tænkte, som alle andre den aften, "Wow, der er godt nok en der er på røven! En eller andens liv er ved at blive helt forfærdeligt!" Og jeg satte mig op i sengen, og puttede puden bag hovedet, og så tænkte jeg, jeg er ikke helt sikker på, om den joke egentlig var ment racistiskt Måske, istedet for triumferende at prale af sine privilegier, hånede hun den triumferende pral med privilegier. Det er en tradition indenfor comedy, som i South Park eller Colbert eller Randy Newman. Måske var Justine Sacco's fejl simpelthen ikke at være så god til det som Randy Newman. I virkeligheden, da jeg mødte Justine et par uger senere på en bar, var hun helt ødelagt, og jeg bad hende om at forklare joken, og hun sagde, "Når vi bor i USA er vi lidt i en slags bobbel, hvor vi ikke helt ser hvad der sker i den Tredje Verden. Jeg prøvede at lave grin med den bobbel."
Was anybody on Twitter that night? A few of you. Did Justine's joke overwhelm your Twitter feed the way it did mine? It did mine, and I thought what everybody thought that night, which was, "Wow, somebody's screwed! Somebody's life is about to get terrible!" And I sat up in my bed, and I put the pillow behind my head, and then I thought, I'm not entirely sure that joke was intended to be racist. Maybe instead of gleefully flaunting her privilege, she was mocking the gleeful flaunting of privilege. There's a comedy tradition of this, like South Park or Colbert or Randy Newman. Maybe Justine Sacco's crime was not being as good at it as Randy Newman. In fact, when I met Justine a couple of weeks later in a bar, she was just crushed, and I asked her to explain the joke, and she said, "Living in America puts us in a bit of a bubble when it comes to what is going on in the Third World. I was making of fun of that bubble."
En anden kvinde var også på Twitter den aften, Helen Lewis som skriver for New Statesman, hun anmeldte min bog om offentlig udskamning, og skrev at hun den aften Tweetede, "Jeg er ikke sikker på om hendes joke var ment som racistisk," og sagde at det med det samme haglede ned over hende med Tweets hvor der stod "Du er også bare endnu en priviligeret kælling" Og til sin skam, skrev hun, tiede hun, og så stille til, mens Justine's liv blev flået i småstumper.
You know, another woman on Twitter that night, a New Statesman writer Helen Lewis, she reviewed my book on public shaming and wrote that she Tweeted that night, "I'm not sure that her joke was intended to be racist," and she said straightaway she got a fury of Tweets saying, "Well, you're just a privileged bitch, too." And so to her shame, she wrote, she shut up and watched as Justine's life got torn apart.
Det begyndte at blive mere ubehageligt: [Man burde anmelde den luder @JustineSacco] Så kom opfordringerne til at få hende fyret. [Held og lykke med jobjagten i det nye år. #BliverFyret] Tusinder af mennesker på hele kloden besluttede at det var deres pligt at få hende fyret. [@JustineSacco din karrieres sidste tweet. #Fortjent] Virksomheder involverede sig, og forsøgte at sælge deres produkter på baggrund af Justine's udslettelse: [Næste gang du vil tweete noget dumt før du flyver, så vær sikker på du stiger på et @Gogo fly!] (Latter)
It started to get darker: [Everyone go report this cunt @JustineSacco] Then came the calls for her to be fired. [Good luck with the job hunt in the new year. #GettingFired] Thousands of people around the world decided it was their duty to get her fired. [@JustineSacco last tweet of your career. #SorryNotSorry Corporations got involved, hoping to sell their products on the back of Justine's annihilation: [Next time you plan to tweet something stupid before you take off, make sure you are getting on a @Gogo flight!] (Laughter)
En masse virksomheder tjente rigtig godt den aften. Altså, Justine's navn blev normalt Googlet 40 gange om måneden. Den måned, mellem den 20. December indtil slutningen af December, blev hendes navn Googlet 1.220.000 gange. Og en internet-økonom fortalte mig, at det betød en fortjeneste for Google på et sted mellem 120.000 dollars og 468.000 dollars på Justines udslettelse, hvorimod de af os der stod for den egentlige udskamning... vi fik ingenting. (Latter) Vi var som ubetalte udskamnings-praktikanter hos Google. (Latter)
A lot of companies were making good money that night. You know, Justine's name was normally Googled 40 times a month. That month, between December the 20th and the end of December, her name was Googled 1,220,000 times. And one Internet economist told me that that meant that Google made somewhere between 120,000 dollars and 468,000 dollars from Justine's annihilation, whereas those of us doing the actual shaming -- we got nothing. (Laughter) We were like unpaid shaming interns for Google. (Laughter)
Og så kom troldene: [Jeg håber egentlig at Justine Sacco faktisk får aids? lol] En anden skrev, "En eller enden med HIV burde voldtage kællingen, så kan vi finde ud af om hendes hudfarve beskytter hende mod AIDS." Og den person fik en fribillet. Den person var der ikke nogen der gjorde noget ved. Vi var alle sammen så begejstrede over at knuse Justine, og vores udskamnings-hjerner er så ensporede, at vi ikke også kunne håndtere at skulle knuse en eller anden som angreb Justine på en upassende måde. Justine forenede virkelig en del forskellige grupper den aften, fra filantroper til "voldtag kællingen." [@JustineSacco jeg håber du bliver fyret! Tomhjernede kælling... Fortæl endelig
And then came the trolls: [I'm actually kind of hoping Justine Sacco gets aids? lol] Somebody else on that wrote, "Somebody HIV-positive should rape this bitch and then we'll find out if her skin color protects her from AIDS." And that person got a free pass. Nobody went after that person. We were all so excited about destroying Justine, and our shaming brains are so simple-minded, that we couldn't also handle destroying somebody who was inappropriately destroying Justine. Justine was really uniting a lot of disparate groups that night, from philanthropists to "rape the bitch." [@JustineSacco I hope you get fired! You demented bitch...
hele verden at du vil have ubeskyttet sex i Afrika.] Det er altid værre for kvinder end mænd. Til mænd er det: "Vi får dig fyret." Når kvinder bliver angrebet, så er det
Just let the world know you're planning to ride bare back while in Africa.] Women always have it worse than men. When a man gets shamed, it's, "I'm going to get you fired." When a woman gets shamed, it's,
"Jeg får dig fyret og voldtaget og hakker din livmoder ud." Og så blev Justines arbejdsgiver involveret: [IAC om @JustineSacco tweet: Dette er en skændig, krænkende udtalelse. Ansatte er i øjeblikket utilgængelig på et internationalt fly.] Og da ændredes vreden til begejstring [Det eneste jeg ønsker mig til jul er at se @JustineSacco's ansigt når flyet lander og hun checker sin inbox/voicemail. #fyret] [Wow, @justinesacco kommer til at have det værste tænde-telefonen-øjeblik nogensinde når hendes fly lander.] [Snart kan vi se hende @JustineSacco kællingen blive fyret. LIVE. Før hun selv VED at hun bliver fyret.] Det vi havde her, var en skøn fortællings-struktur. Vi vidste noget som Justine ikke gjorde. Kan I forestille jer noget, mindre retfærdigt end det? Justine sov ombord på et fly, ude af stand til at give en forklaring, og hendes manglende mulighed var en kæmpe del af morskaben. Den aften på Twitter var vi som treårige der kravler mod en pistol. En eller anden fandt ud af præcis hvilket fly hun var på, så de linkede til en flight tracker hjemmeside. [British Airways Fly 43 Til Tiden - ankommer om 1t 34min] Et hashtag begyndte at trende verden rundt: #erJustineLandetEndnu? [det er lidt vildt at se nogen selvdestruere uden de overhovedet er klar over det. #erJustineLandetEndnu] [Seriøst. Jeg vil egentlig bare hjem i seng, men alle på baren er SUPER vilde med #erJustineLandetEndnu. Kan ikke se væk. Kan ikke tage afsted.] [#erJustineLandetEndnu er muligvis det bedste der er sket for min fredag aften.] [Er der ikke nogen i Cape Town der kan tage til lufthavnen og tweete hendes ankomst? Kom nu, twitter! Gerne billeder.] Og ved I hvad? Det var der såmænd. [@JustineSacco ER nu landet i Cape Town International. Og hvis I gerne vil vide hvordan man ser ud når man lige har opdaget at man er blevet revet i småstykker pga en misforstået venstreorienteret joke, ikke af trolde, men af venlige mennesker som dig og mig, så ser det sådan her ud:
"I'm going to get you fired and raped and cut out your uterus." And then Justine's employers got involved: [IAC on @JustineSacco tweet: This is an outrageous, offensive comment. Employee in question currently unreachable on an intl flight.] And that's when the anger turned to excitement: [All I want for Christmas is to see @JustineSacco's face when her plane lands and she checks her inbox/voicemail. #fired] [Oh man, @justinesacco is going to have the most painful phone-turning-on moment ever when her plane lands.] [We are about to watch this @JustineSacco bitch get fired. In REAL time. Before she even KNOWS she's getting fired.] What we had was a delightful narrative arc. We knew something that Justine didn't. Can you think of anything less judicial than this? Justine was asleep on a plane and unable to explain herself, and her inability was a huge part of the hilarity. On Twitter that night, we were like toddlers crawling towards a gun. Somebody worked out exactly which plane she was on, so they linked to a flight tracker website. [British Airways Flight 43 On-time - arrives in 1 hour 34 minutes] A hashtag began trending worldwide: # hasJustineLandedYet? [It is kinda wild to see someone self-destruct without them even being aware of it. #hasJustineLandedYet] [Seriously. I just want to go home to go to bed, but everyone at the bar is SO into #HasJustineLandedYet. Can't look away. Can't leave.] [#HasJustineLandedYet may be the best thing to happen to my Friday night.] [Is no one in Cape Town going to the airport to tweet her arrival? Come on, twitter! I'd like pictures] And guess what? Yes there was. [@JustineSacco HAS in fact landed at Cape Town international. And if you want to know what it looks like to discover that you've just been torn to shreds because of a misconstrued liberal joke, not by trolls, but by nice people like us, this is what it looks like:
[... Hun har forklædt sig med solbriller] Så hvad fik os til at gøre sådan? Jeg tror nogle virkeligt var berørte, men for mange andre, tror jeg, er Twitter dybest set en gensidig skulderklapnings-maskine. Vi omgiver os med mennesker med de samme holdninger som os, og vi bifalder hinandens meninger, og det er en rigtig dejlig følelse. Og hvis nogen kommer i vejen for det, så jager vi dem på flugt. Og ved I, hvad det er det er det modsatte af? Det er det modsatte af demokrati. Vi ville gerne vise, at vi bekymrede os om folk der døde af AIDS i Afrika. Vores ønske om at blive set som medfølende var det, der ledte os til denne dybt ufølsomme handling. Som Meghan O'Gieblyn skrev i The Boston Review,
[... She's decided to wear sunnies as a disguise.] So why did we do it? I think some people were genuinely upset, but I think for other people, it's because Twitter is basically a mutual approval machine. We surround ourselves with people who feel the same way we do, and we approve each other, and that's a really good feeling. And if somebody gets in the way, we screen them out. And do you know what that's the opposite of? It's the opposite of democracy. We wanted to show that we cared about people dying of AIDS in Africa. Our desire to be seen to be compassionate is what led us to commit this profoundly un-compassionate act. As Meghan O'Gieblyn wrote in the Boston Review,
"Dette er ikke social retfærdighed, det er et velbehageligt alternativ." De sidste tre år har jeg rejst verden rundt for at møde mennesker som Justine Sacco -- og tro mig, der er mange som Justine Sacco. Der kommer flere hver dag. Og vi vil gerne tro på at de har det fint, men det har de altså ikke. De mennesker jeg mødte var lemlæstede. De fortalte mig om depression, om angst og søvnløshed, om selvmordstanker. En kvinde jeg snakkede med, der også havde fortalt en uheldig joke, Hun holdt sig hjemme i halvandet år. Før det havde hun arbejdet med voksne med indlæringsvanskeligheder,
"This isn't social justice. It's a cathartic alternative." For the past three years, I've been going around the world meeting people like Justine Sacco -- and believe me, there's a lot of people like Justine Sacco. There's more every day. And we want to think they're fine, but they're not fine. The people I met were mangled. They talked to me about depression, and anxiety and insomnia and suicidal thoughts. One woman I talked to, who also told a joke that landed badly, she stayed home for a year and a half. Before that, she worked with adults with learning difficulties,
og var vist rigtig god til sit arbejde. Justine blev fyret, selvfølgelig, fordi de sociale medier krævede det. Men det var værre end som så. Hun var ved at miste sig selv. Hun vågnede midt om natten, uden at kunne huske hvem hun var. Hun blev fået ram på, fordi hun blev set som en der havde misbrugt sine privilegier. Og det er selvfølgelig en meget bedre ting at angribe folk for end det vi plejede, som for eksempel at få børn udenfor ægteskabet. Men konceptet "misbrug af privilegier" er ved at blive en fribillet til at måtte sønderrive stort set hvem vi vil. Udtrykket mister sin betydning, og det får os til at miste vores evne til empati,
and was apparently really good at her job. Justine was fired, of course, because social media demanded it. But it was worse than that. She was losing herself. She was waking up in the middle of the night, forgetting who she was. She was got because she was perceived to have misused her privilege. And of course, that's a much better thing to get people for than the things we used to get people for, like having children out of wedlock. But the phrase "misuse of privilege" is becoming a free pass to tear apart pretty much anybody we choose to. It's becoming a devalued term, and it's making us lose our capacity for empathy
og evne til at skelne mellem vigtige og ligegyldige forseelser. Justine havde 170 Twitter følgere, så før det kunne fungere måtte hun fiktionaliseres. Rygtet spredte sig at hun var datter af minedrifts-milliardæren Desmond Sacco. [Lad jer ikke narre af #JustineSacco hendes far er en sydafrikansk mine-milliardær. Hun er ikke ked af det. Og det er hendes far heller ikke.] Jeg troede faktisk det var sandt, indtil jeg mødte Justine på en bar, og spurgte ind til hendes milliardær-far,
and for distinguishing between serious and unserious transgressions. Justine had 170 Twitter followers, and so to make it work, she had to be fictionalized. Word got around that she was the daughter the mining billionaire Desmond Sacco. [Let us not be fooled by #JustineSacco her father is a SA mining billionaire. She's not sorry. And neither is her father.] I thought that was true about Justine,
og hun sagde, "Min far sælger tæpper." Og jeg tænker tilbage på tiden i starten med Twitter, da folk indrømmede skamfulde hemmeligheder om sig selv og andre sagde, "Gud, sådan er jeg også." I dag er jagten gået ind på andres skamfulde hemmeligheder. Du kan leve et godt, etisk liv, men en dårlig formulering i et Tweet kan overskygge det hele,
until I met her at a bar, and I asked her about her billionaire father, and she said, "My father sells carpets." And I think back on the early days of Twitter, when people would admit shameful secrets about themselves, and other people would say, "Oh my God, I'm exactly the same." These days, the hunt is on for people's shameful secrets. You can lead a good, ethical life,
og blive et fingerpeg om din skjulte indre ondskab. Måske er der to slags mennesker i verden: Dem der sætter mennesker over ideologi, og dem, som sætter ideologi over mennesker. Jeg sætter mennesker over ideologi, men lige nu er ideologerne ved at vinde, og de er ved at skabe en scene med kunstigt højspændte dramaer, hvor alle enten er en skinnende helt eller en kvalmende forbryder, selvom vi jo godt ved, at sådan er vores medmennesker ikke. Sandheden er at vi er kloge og dumme; sandheden er, at vi er gråzoner. Det fantastiske ved de sociale medier er, at de gav en stemme til mennesker, der ikke plejede at have en, men nu er vi ved at skabe et overvågningssamfund,
but some bad phraseology in a Tweet can overwhelm it all, become a clue to your secret inner evil. Maybe there's two types of people in the world: those people who favor humans over ideology, and those people who favor ideology over humans. I favor humans over ideology, but right now, the ideologues are winning, and they're creating a stage for constant artificial high dramas where everybody's either a magnificent hero or a sickening villain, even though we know that's not true about our fellow humans. What's true is that we are clever and stupid; what's true is that we're grey areas. The great thing about social media was how it gave a voice to voiceless people, but we're now creating a surveillance society,
hvor den bedste måde at overleve på, er igen ikke at have nogen stemme.
where the smartest way to survive is to go back to being voiceless.
Lad os lade være med det.
Let's not do that.
Mange tak.
Thank you.
(Bifald)
(Applause)
Bruno Giussani: Mange tak, Jon.
Bruno Giussani: Thank you, Jon.
Jon Ronson: Tak, Bruno. BG: Bliv lige et øjeblik. Det der slår mig ved Justine's historie er også, at hvis man googler hendes navn i dag, så dækker denne her historie de første 100 siders søgeresultater -- der er ikke andet om hende. I din bog nævner du en anden historie, om et andet offer der faktisk hyrede et firma til at ændre på det her, og ved at lave blogs og lægge hyggelige, harmløse historier ud om hendes katte og ferier og den slags, så fik de fjernet historien fra de første par siders Google søgeresultater, men det holdt ikke længe. Et par uger senere bevægede den sig tilbage til toppen af resultaterne.
Jon Ronson: Thanks, Bruno. BG: Don't go away. What strikes me about Justine's story is also the fact that if you Google her name today, this story covers the first 100 pages of Google results -- there is nothing else about her. In your book, you mention another story of another victim who actually got taken on by a reputation management firm, and by creating blogs and posting nice, innocuous stories about her love for cats and holidays and stuff, managed to get the story off the first couple pages of Google results, but it didn't last long. A couple of weeks later, they started creeping back up to the top result.
Er det en umulig kamp? Jon Ronson: Altså, jeg tror det allerbedste vi kan gøre når man ser denne her slags uretfærdige eller tvivlsomme udskamning, det er at sige fra, for jeg tror at det værste der skete for Justine var at ingen støttede hende -- som om alle var imod hende, og det er dybt traumatiserende, at få at vide af ti tusinder af mennesker, at man bare skal forsvinde. Men hvis en udskamning sker, men med en masse blandede stemmer, som i et demokrati hvor folk diskuterer, så tror jeg det er mindre skadeligt. Jeg tror, at det er vejen frem, men det er svært, for hvis du forsvarer en eller anden,
Is this a totally lost battle? Jon Ronson: You know, I think the very best thing we can do, if you see a kind of unfair or an ambiguous shaming, is to speak up, because I think the worst thing that happened to Justine was that nobody supported her -- like, everyone was against her, and that is profoundly traumatizing, to be told by tens of thousands of people that you need to get out. But if a shaming happens and there's a babble of voices, like in a democracy, where people are discussing it, I think that's much less damaging. So I think that's the way forward, but it's hard, because if you do stand up for somebody,
kan det blive rigtig ubehageligt. BG: Lad os så snakke om din erfaring, for du sagde jo fra, ved at skrive denne bog. Forresten, så er den obligatorisk læsning for alle, okay? Du sagde fra, fordi bogen faktisk flytter fokus til dem der laver udskamningerne.
it's incredibly unpleasant. BG: So let's talk about your experience, because you stood up by writing this book. By the way, it's mandatory reading for everybody, okay? You stood up because the book actually puts the spotlight on shamers.
Og jeg går ud fra du ikke kun fik gode reaktioner på Twitter. JR: Nej, der var nogle der ikke var så begejstrede. (Latter) Altså, man vil jo ikke kun fokusere -- masser af mennesker forstod, og var rigtig venlige omkring bogen. Men ja, de sidste 30 år har jeg skrevet historier om magtmisbrug, og når jeg snakker om de magtfulde mennesker i millitæret, eller i medicinal-industrien, så er der lutter applaus. Men så snart jeg siger, "Nu er vi dem, der misbruger vores magt,"
And I assume you didn't only have friendly reactions on Twitter. JR: It didn't go down that well with some people. (Laughter) I mean, you don't want to just concentrate -- because lots of people understood, and were really nice about the book. But yeah, for 30 years I've been writing stories about abuses of power, and when I say the powerful people over there in the military, or in the pharmaceutical industry, everybody applauds me. As soon as I say, "We are the powerful people abusing our power now,"
så får jeg reaktioner såsom, "Du er sikkert også en racist." BG: Så altså forleden -- igår -- hvor var vi ude og spise, så var der to diskussioner igang samtidig. På den ene side snakkede du med folkene omkring bordet -- og det var en god, konstruktiv diskussion. På den anden side, hver gang du tændte din telefon,
I get people saying, "Well you must be a racist too." BG: So the other night -- yesterday -- we were at dinner, and there were two discussions going on. On one side you were talking with people around the table -- and that was a nice, constructive discussion. On the other, every time you turned to your phone,
kom denne her syndflod af fornærmelser. JR: Ja-- sådan var det i aftes. Vi havde en slags TED middag i aftes. Vi snakkede, og det var fint og dejligt, og jeg besluttede mig for at tjekke Twitter. Og nogen havde skrevet, "Du støtter hvidt overherredømme." Og så gik jeg tilbage, og havde en god snak med en eller anden, og så tjekkede jeg Twitter igen, og nogen havde skrevet at selve min eksistens gjorde verden til et værre sted. Min ven Adam Curtis siger at måske er internettet som en John Carpenter film fra 1980erne, hvor på et eller andet tidspunkt begynder alle at råbe og skrige af hinanden, og skyde på hinanden, og så på et tidspunkt flygter alle til et sikrere sted,
there is this deluge of insults. JR: Yeah. This happened last night. We had like a TED dinner last night. We were chatting and it was lovely and nice, and I decided to check Twitter. Somebody said, "You are a white supremacist." And then I went back and had a nice conversation with somebody, and then I went back to Twitter, somebody said my very existence made the world a worse place. My friend Adam Curtis says that maybe the Internet is like a John Carpenter movie from the 1980s, when eventually everyone will start screaming at each other and shooting each other, and then eventually everybody would flee to somewhere safer,
og jeg er begyndt at tænke at det kunne være en god idé.
and I'm starting to think of that as a really nice option.
BG: Jon, mange tak. JR: Og tak til dig, Bruno. (Bifald)
BG: Jon, thank you. JR: Thank you, Bruno. (Applause)