by George Takei
Take, for example, this picture:
Now, imagine an all-feline version of Lord of the Rings, and you can easily see this fellow in the role of Gandalf.
Note the subtlety of the performance here: the epic struggle, the sense of doom, and the bitter knowledge that nothing he can do will alter his fate as he plunges to an epic battle-to-the-death with a
Balrog. Or in his case, the linoleum.
I’ve done some thinking on the matter, and here are a few key points about cats that might help explain their Internet dominance.
Cats fail, epically. By that I mean that cats “go for it” with gusto, then fall flat on their asses, just like the gal in the YouTube sensation “Scarlet Takes A Tumble” (Google this — it’s worth it). There are innumerable clips of cats falling into bathtubs, getting stuck in small places, or leaping at ceiling fans and getting their claws caught to be spun about like a tether ball. It’s like a constant loop from Wipe Out.
Cats are weird. They chase around little red laser lights. They make funny sounds at bugs while their little jaws quiver. And they like to sit in cardboard boxes. If you own a cat, you know what I mean. Put out a cardboard box, and your cat will sit in it.
Cats are fussy. They preen and clean incessantly like the obsessive/compulsive divas they are. They only like their food a certain way. They relieve themselves in boxes, but never while anyone is looking. And they don’t like their routine or environs disturbed. Anyone who has ever tried to drive with a cat in the car knows this.
Cats are snooty. When you come home, even after a long day at work, there’s a good chance your cat will look up at you, then turn away like you’re the help. And like you’ve arrived for work late.
Cats are unpredictable. It is a fine line between the cute, inquisitive and innocent creature resting on our lap and the hissing, spitting and deranged banshee it might become at any moment. This is why we’re trying always to win their love.
There is, of course, a large segment of the population that doesn’t share my appreciation for cats. These individuals are, simply put, not “cat people.” To them, the felis catus is inherently wicked or, at a minimum, demon-possessed. So while some will look at a sweet, serene face, with two placid, profoundly far-away eyes, and see the angelic spirit that the ancient Phoenicians revered, others see nothing but evil incarnate.
Then there’s the particularly curious question of cat grammar. On the Internet, cats are often depicted using “cute” English, with sentences like “I haz a box to pooz in” or “You hates Mondayz, toos?” To the suspicious, this supposedly adorable speech pattern simply furthers the cat’s master plan, in which its owner is lulled into a false sense of quietude, as the cat patiently awaits the day when a decided lack of vigilance permits utter mayhem to ensue, no doubt later blamed upon an unsuspecting dog or small child.
For my part, I’ve always imagined that cats actually talk much more like Stewie or Mr. Burns, pairing a certain diabolical undertone with an overly enlarged sense of power and purpose. When a cat looks up at me, that practiced dismissal so palpable, I often hear one of those voices saying, “Another cat post, George? Really?”
Don’t You Have A Bridge To Go Live Under?
When I first ventured out into the Twitterverse, I had no idea that it was filled with so many monsters. In Internet lingo, these are called “trolls.” Their whole purpose in life is to ruin your good time, or as one friend puts it, to “pee in your Cheerios.”
A troll is an online stalker, of sorts, who ignites passions by posting offensive, inflammatory or, perhaps most annoyingly, off-topic comments to a status update, image, video or story. Trolls are anonymous lurkers on the fringes of the Web, socially maladjusted creatures who, as they say, “have no life.” They crave attention; the bigger the audience, or the more famous the target, the greater the trolls’ delight. Frequently they will perch at their terminals, hurling ad hominem attacks and expletives in ALL CAPS, hoping to bait others into responding.
More seasoned commentators on sites like YouTube will gently remind other community members simply “not to feed the trolls” — it’s our very outrage and emotion that causes them to grow stronger. But all the reminders in the world are usually for naught as, inevitably, some indignant Netizen rises to challenge the troll to an online duel. The Netizen dutifully cites evidence or studies, articulates with reason and logic, and even deploys common sense and an appeal to decency in an attempt to enlighten or transform the troll into an actual human being. The usual response to such efforts goes something like this: “WHY DON’T YOU GO OFF YOURSELF YOU PERVERT QUEER. YOU MAKE ME SICK!!!”
Pardon the troll-ese. In my earlier days spent online, before self-policing communities armed with “report” buttons were common place, trolls could rail and shriek with near impunity. On YouTube, there were legions of them in the comments left under my first few videos. While such posts could be “flagged” as inappropriate or offensive, that did not stop a troll from posting a new comment moments later. And while a troll could be, with some greater effort, banned from posting beneath a video altogether, it was easy enough for the troll to assume a new identity and return to spread his bile across the screen. I say “his” because, in my experience, trolls are mostly male. Indeed, I venture to guess that some of the most vicious trolls are repressed homosexuals, desperate to beat back their inner demons with hyper-exaggerated, outward manifestations of their professed heterosexuality.
Here is what the Internet has largely determined what a “troll” looks like:
At first, I was quite taken aback, one could even say horrified, by what I saw spewing from certain trolls’ keyboards. I thought of all the young people who might be viewing, say, my “It’s OK to be Takei” video, hoping to take heart in the positive message, only to skim through the comments and see so much hate and vitriol directed to them. And so I did my best to flag and delete anything that seemed like mere troll speech to me. I wanted those abusers buried, and buried for good.
But China’s one-time leader, Deng Xiaoping, perhaps said it best: “When you open the window, flies and mosquitoes come in.” He was talking about corruption in a Capitalist system, but the analogy works here as well. The Internet is a place where ideas compete, and bad ideas in particular get shared. There simply is no effective way to censor or limit much of anything. For starters, it would be a full-time job to monitor each and every comment on each and every video or post on each and every site. The better solution, I found, was to let the “marketplace of ideas” place its own values on the opinions expressed. Sure, it was entirely possible a good Netizen’s words would be wasted on a troll, but they still might resonate with others perusing the same string. If passions were so stirred that someone had to say something, perhaps that was not so bad an outcome. Spread effectively, troll shit could indeed fertilize a whole crop of thinkers. Indeed, perhaps that was an unintended benefit — lemonade from the sour lemons as it were.
There was, of course, also the problem of where to draw the line. One fan easily could find an opinion “offensive,” while others would find the very same statement a fundamental tenet of their beliefs. Well-intentioned Christians often found themselves on the defensive on my page if they entered the fray of my comment streams, especially if their church’s teachings against The Gays required them to hate the sin but love the sinner. Other fans would blast them immediately, wondering why they were even on my page at all if they didn’t like gay people. Now, it’s a truism that once religion gets thrown in the mix, it’s nearly impossible to get anyone to agree on anything. And I’m of the firm belief that you can’t change any minds by closing doors; no one can break open the piñata if you ban them from the fiesta. So I decided early on that it would be better to welcome all manner of commentary and opinion across each of my social media platforms, and that I would simply not normally censor or delete as a matter of principle.
There were certain things, however, I have never felt are helpful or valuable to a robus
t discussion. Those include specific uses of hate speech designed to intimidate or denigrate on the basis of race, ethnicity, religion, gender, or sexual orientation — the “suspect classes” identified by our jurisprudence, based on historical patterns of discrimination or immutable characteristics. When such hate speech is directed at other fans, I do delete it and ban the author from returning. I figure, it’s my Facebook page, and I make the rules. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, and those who don’t abide by that basic principle aren’t welcome. Some fans cry “First Amendment” foul, but this misses the point. Facebook is not run by the government, so there aren’t laws against restricting speech, particularly on one’s own page. Besides, Facebook itself has a policy against such speech.
But when hate speech is directed to me on my own page, I more often than not leave it as is. Such speech doesn’t have any power over me. I’ve simply been around too long, and been through too much, to let a few words from an anonymous coward get to me. But I do find that such hate speech serves as a terrific rallying cry for my defenders. I’ll tell you, nothing feels better than to see legions of fans call out a jerk on my behalf.
Apart from the most hateful trollspeak, there is a lesser and more common form of “trolling” where one merely seeks to get a “rise” out of others. I admit, I have designed some of my own posts to have this very effect. I know, for example, that any time I post anything that pits men against women, particularly one that plays upon a stereotype, it will surely create a maelstrom.
Such posts are bound to stir the pot, and I’m always ready to be barraged with emails and comments accusing me of perpetuating stereotypes. People forget that stereotypes aren’t bad because they are always untrue. Stereotypes are bad because they are not always true. If we allow ourselves to judge another based on a stereotype, we have allowed a gross generalization to replace our own thinking. Therein lies the problem.
But if we fail to acknowledge or, God forbid, laugh at a dubious stereotype, then we do ourselves a disservice. I much prefer to identify and open up the discussion of the stereotype than to pretend it doesn’t exist.
My brand of “trolling” thus has almost the exact opposite intent of a traditional troll. I wish to provoke enlightened and spirited discussion, not shut it down. When I turn over a rock and cause the Internet bugs to wiggle, it is to prevent intellectual laziness from taking hold — the very kind of laziness that gives stereotypes power in the marketplace.
Plus, to be honest, it’s just a lot of fun to turn over those rocks and see what is crawling around underneath.
But Enough About Me. What Do YOU Think of Me?
When most people use Facebook or Twitter, they post about their own lives. They put it out there, hoping that others will find their lives compelling enough to follow. Each small victory or triumph matters; each event becomes a gem of a memory. Otherwise, why create status updates at all?
As I mentioned at the beginning of this book, celebrities talk about their lives too. They, or more likely their handlers, often treat social media as just another way to market themselves, as if it were simply a new kind of broadcast media. Their tweets and updates are often creative agency pre-packaged bits about upcoming appearances, performances and whatnot.
While some fans appreciate this information, this really is not a great way to engage them. Only the most die-hard, dutiful fans will like, comment, or retweet what are essentially commercials. And very few friends of those fans will pay such reposts any heed. They know that all that giddiness is just their friends
“fan boying” or “fan girling” out.
I make no bones about my intentions on Facebook and other platforms. I’ve got some things I’d like to say about the world, particularly in the area of civil rights, and I’d love it if a lot of people got to hear them. I realize that there just aren’t many folks my age reaching out on the Internet, so I understand that my position comes with a certain level of responsibility.
I also want a lot of people to laugh, or even better, to laugh with me. The world is far too grim a place without some daily guffaws. Some of my favorite fan posts come from regular folks who tell me that they were having a bad day, or going through a rough time, but my page made them laugh, and that helped keep them going. I can’t express how grateful that makes me feel in turn, that I can make a difference, however small, in so many people’s daily lives.
But in all honesty, there’s no way millions of fans, particularly millions of young fans, would bother to get to know me unless I talked about something other than myself and my gigs. There are only so many Star Trek conventions and symphony narrations that anyone can take. Many of the younger fans probably have never even been to a symphony given the cost of tickets. And honestly, I also worry about people knowing exactly where I am or what I’m up to at all hours.
Common sense suggests I shouldn’t tell the world, for example, that I’m out of town with Brad, please come rob our home. Because of this, I’ll usually post any personal pictures well after the fact. It only takes one disturbed “fan” to ruin the party and cost me a lot in lost sleep and added security detail.
So, from the outset, I resisted the urge to fill my page with me, me, me. This wasn’t a hard choice, because much of my life is pretty mundane. I also eschewed attempts to sell copies of my existing book, much to Brad’s initial displeasure.
All kidding aside, it may come as a surprise to many, but peddling a product or service right out of the box doesn’t really work that well as an online strategy. Facebook in particular is a pretty lousy place to sell something, because people really aren’t on Facebook looking to buy. They’re looking to be entertained.
By “entertained” I don’t mean in the traditional sense of television. People on Facebook want to feel connected. In some ways, the experience online is more like live entertainment, akin to being at the theater or in the studio audience of a TV comedy. In addition to the energy you’re taking in from the performer, there’s the unquantifiable connectedness you feel with the audience around you. Facebook is a place, then, not only where you can laugh, wonder or curse at a video or image, but add your own thoughts and share in the thoughts of others immediately, in a kind of collective intelligence.
Yes, I know, it’s hard to say “collective” without thinking of the Borg.
To say simply that content is king when it comes to social media therefore misses half the point. You need content, yes, but it has to reflect the collective sensibilities of the fans, not just the imperatives or tastes of the entertainer. I believe it’s crucial to understand audience aspirations, commonalities and sensitivities, and to deliver the fans what they want. Only then will you have any chance of them giving a rat’s ass about what you have to say.
My Facebook page, you might say then, is basically a place where I post things that my fans like. That sounds simple, but many celebrities and brands have a hard time understanding this. Most people simply don’t care about the 10K race you sponsored. Instead, I’d prefer to put up a picture of a kid running it with prosthetic legs, and make that the focal point of a post.
Few of my posts are truly about me or my opinions. In fact, I’ve found that some fans have taken this principle a bit too far to heart. These fans’ feathers get quite ruffled whenever I happen to post something that relates directly to me, or I should say more specifically, my opinions. There are many examples of this. After the first Presidential debate between Obama and Romney, I posted an image of an armed gang of Muppets, furious that Romney had threatened to cancel Sesame Street, and openly declaring, “Shit just got real.” I found the picture wickedly funny, not only because Elmo, Grover and Cookie Monster were armed with knives, but also because they were paired with such a colorful caption.
I wasn’t prepared for the backlash from Romney supporters, who were more numerous than I’d assumed existed on what is essentially a liberal page. “Why don’t you C-list celebrities keep your opinions to yourselves?” “I liked this page for
its humor, not liking it so much now for its politics.” “Shut up and keep to being funny, Mr. Takei. Don’t be so misinformed.”
Apparently, some fans can’t take a joke if it happens to bash their candidate. But being a person who normally wants to find the common ground beneath our many heels, I was bothered by the comments. There was something highly presumptuous about the criticism. They assumed I was not free to post whatever I wanted to on my own page. For starters, they insisted that it was my job to spend my free time making them laugh, with no thought to my own wants or needs.
I felt the rare need this time to respond, not only to make it clear that I took issue with these presumptions, but also because I knew it would only become worse with what I was about to post. You see, I had been approached earlier by the Obama campaign to record a couple of endorsement videos that encouraged Asian Pacific Islanders and LGBT individuals to get out and vote. I knew that a sizeable and vocal portion of my own fan base held different political beliefs than my own, ranging from Independent to Republican to Libertarian. Many were clearly not fans of the President and were eager to see him defeated. By using my fan page as a bully pulpit, even for a few posts, I was certain to see backlash.
And so I put out a simple and rare personal statement:
I was thrilled to see the response of the fans, with over 147,000 fans clicking like on it and over 10,000 commenting, nearly all positive. The people had spoken: This is George Takei’s page, and he can say whatever he damn well pleases!
