The Happiness Effect

by Donna Freitas

  On one level, Jack sounds a lot like any kid who feels alienated and frustrated, even angry, by the politics of middle and high school, like someone who feels left out and knows that he doesn’t fit in. But whereas the attempts to fit in by young women like Mae and Hailey turned them into targets, Jack lashed out instead.

  Jack’s comments on Myspace were aggressive enough that his peers complained to their teachers and the principal, and his parents freaked out when they saw what he was posting. Jack thinks people at school must have read what he said and thought, “He seems to be a little bit too mad at school. And because, you know, you’ve got all of these creepy people who say these terrible things about school and then do terrible things,” everyone became concerned. “In reality,” Jack goes on, “I was trying to do this sort of satirical thing, which I thought was satirical, but someone reading that would not probably think that.” As a result of Jack’s posts, the school suspended him, and his father installed a program on the computer that monitored Jack’s every keystroke.

  Now that Jack’s older, he knows better than to sign his name to anything inflammatory, though he tells me that, as an atheist, he enjoys picking fights with religious people on Facebook—elaborate fights that go on and on and that people get upset about. “Sometimes,” he explains, “I’ll read a post, and I will think it is so outrageous that I need to say something, and then I write out a whole argument.” The behavior is nearly compulsive. If someone says something “stupid,” he feels it is necessary to tell them they are “incorrect.” Sometimes, after Jack writes out a very long comment in response to something he thinks is ridiculous, just as he’s about to press “enter,” he thinks better of it, but at other times he can’t resist. He goes on to give me a very long example of the kind of fight he picks. People get really upset when Jack posts this sort of thing, and it’s dismaying to him that so many people can’t handle being confronted about their beliefs and opinions. “So I think [with] things like online trolling,” he says, “you can get mistaken for a troll, even if you’re just trying to do constructive discourse.”

  When I ask Jack to elaborate on getting “mistaken for a troll,” I learn that, in his view, some trolls are good. Jack thinks he is giving social media something it desperately needs, something virtuous. “In some ways, depending on the troll, it could be really good, meaning that I think, to a certain extent, I can be a troll in conversation,” he says. “Now, now don’t mistake what I’m saying. Now there’s the trolls, right? The really, just evil, sick, sadistic, online bigots, and that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the contrarians, right? The people who just argue with you because they can and because they want to find something wrong with what you’re saying, even though they don’t see it. So a troll could just be somebody who’s a devil’s advocate, right? And I think that’s what a good troll is. A good troll is someone who is going to disagree with you for the sake of disagreeing with you, and then just trying to find the flaws of what you’re saying. So I think that you can take something good from trolling, right? Which is something you probably don’t hear very often.” Jack pauses, then backtracks once again. “But the people who just blindly hate or blindly dismiss arguments for no reason, I mean, that’s what more traditional trolling would be in the public mindset these days. I don’t think trolling was always that. I think that trolling has sort of developed over the past, I guess, fifteen years now, where, you know, being a troll could just be posting a funny picture or being a troll could just be purposely evoking a reaction from somebody, but trolling could also be publicly shaming or hating somebody, and that’s not how I always thought about trolling, but nowadays that’s where [trolling is] going.”

  Jack is right: I don’t hear many people talking about “good trolls” or any other kinds of trolls for that matter—in fact, Jack is the only one who espouses such a theory. I’m impressed that he is so honest about it, and as he parses out the types of trolls, from best to worst, Jack’s personal stake in this theory begins to come through. Trolls are not just people who say negative things, Jack emphasizes. Trolls, in many ways, are misunderstood, and by the end of our interview, it is obvious that Jack feels he is a misunderstood troll. He’s just trying to be himself—which is to be argumentative, and to take people to task—and most people, unfortunately, do not find social media to be a good forum for such behavior. They get upset when someone disagrees with them.

  The irony of Jack’s self-understanding, of course, is this: Jack definitely knows that over the years, many people have felt bullied by him, considering him inappropriate, hurtful, and insensitive. But Jack is also a smart guy who likes to argue, and he doesn’t quite understand why he can’t just “be himself” on social media, why there isn’t space for someone like him, and why there is little to no tolerance for the kind of provocative commentary he enjoys so much. And though Jack clearly doesn’t want to be seen as the bad guy, he now knows that to many people, that is exactly who he is. His defense of the different types of trolls is really a defense of himself and his broader identity. The failure of social media to tolerate someone like Jack, to make space for how he’s different from most people (who are all trying to be positive and happy), is incredibly alienating for him. One could argue that the ways people on social media have tried to shut Jack down and close him out is a kind of bullying experience of its own. There isn’t room for someone like Jack, and he knows it. Social media isn’t kind to people who do not conform.

  Jack has changed his ways online. In our interview he talks at length about how he’s learned to keep his real, provocative self hidden, and is careful now about anything attached to his real name. “A sort of whitewashed PC version of me exists online, very purposefully,” he says. “When I was in high school, I didn’t understand that you should only put PC whitewashed versions of yourself online.” The sarcasm and anger he feels about this are evident in his voice. Jack’s social media accounts are now “more of a tool than an identity, I think … it’s a very conscious crafting of what, when you type in my name, I’m going to very, very purposefully put what I want you to see up there.”

  He might finally be toeing the line. But he’s not happy about it.

  IAN: TAKING PLEASURE FROM OTHERS’ PAIN

  When Ian struts—and I mean struts—into the room, I realize that our conversation is probably going to be a little different than the ones I’ve had so far at his prestigious university. The vast majority of students I’ve met are serious, studious, dedicated, thoughtful, and rather sweet, the kind of young woman or man you’d imagine might attend a top-notch academic institution such as this. But Ian has swagger, and he also has the look of a stereotypical frat boy, complete with a bit of a beer gut sticking out from underneath his T-shirt. Sure, his majors (physics and applied math) are as demanding as those of his peers. But while his fellow students are thoughtful, reflective, occasionally socially awkward individuals, Ian seems like a guy who will say just about anything, including something potentially offensive, and then laugh it off like it’s no big deal.

  In other words, Ian seems to lack a certain level of self-awareness or, at the very least, isn’t self-conscious about how he comes across to other people. He’s the same Ian who opined so colorfully about women’s propensity to take far too many selfies and share far too often.

  Soon after we start talking, I learn that Ian actually is a frat boy—he’s a junior now, but he started pledging a frat a mere two weeks into his first year of college. He absolutely loves being in a fraternity and speaks at length about all the amazing people he’s met because of it. It’s also clear that Ian is just as serious about his studies—he’s thrived academically and loves being surrounded by smart people. Then Ian tells me that he’s an Eagle Scout and is still heavily involved in the Boy Scouts. “I work with a Boy Scout troop,” he says. “I’m very involved. I might become an assistant scoutmaster, but I have to go through some training. It’s a little bit of basic first aid, but also certain things li
ke boundaries. So they like call it risk zones, so you know what to recognize if a kid, you know, is being bullied or something.”

  So Ian is getting trained in how to respond to bullying—it’s one of the first topics he raises.

  Ian goes on to talk about his hopes for the future—to be a good father, to have “a house big enough that can handle [his] hobbies,” to have a “project car” in the garage, a workshop there, too, and a place for his model trains. Ian loves model trains and lights up while talking about them. As Ian continues to discuss these things, he loses that swagger and frat boy–type attitude, seeming more like a sweet, excited kid who loves his majors and is thrilled by studying. But the swagger returns when the topic shifts to social media.

  Ian rolls his eyes about all the embarrassing things that people put up on Facebook when they’re in middle school and high school—and he’s no exception. “Any sort of true candidness that people can pull out on you can be embarrassing, you know?” Ian is referring to the kind of self-revealing posts that younger kids put up, especially ones that reveal their enthusiasm or lack of social savvy. I press Ian about why he thinks people shouldn’t be candid. “We all know people online who embarrass themselves,” he explains. “And half the reason we all go on Facebook, I think, is for the glimmer of hope to see, like, somebody’s engaged now, or, you know, they go on these political rants or something, and it’s just some finger-licking good gossip that you get, you know? My friend is from Arizona, and he comes from a little, little town, and he shows us the silly things that some of the people from his very, very small town—you know, not many people ever get out of the town—post on Facebook. Some of them are hilariously open, like taking a picture of their parole ticket and posting it on Facebook … or being friends with their probation officer, you know, saying they’re going to go smoke some weed or something… . I think there’s obviously a certain filter that you want to put up.”

  That people should have a “certain filter” online sounds reasonable, and I believe most people would be at least a little shocked by some of the things Ian describes. But the it’s the way Ian discusses these things that is remarkable. He is positively gleeful. He knows he is superior to these people, and he loves the feeling. As Ian mentions how “half the reason we all go on Facebook” is to find that “finger-licking good gossip,” he gives off the impression that he just can’t wait for someone to do something stupid; the moment they do, he’s there, whooping and cheering and laughing at someone else’s shame.

  As our interview continues, Ian’s harsh attitude becomes even more evident. I press him on whether he thinks the primary reason people go on Facebook is to look for gossip, and he tries to backtrack, but then he completely undermines his effort.

  “I don’t think it’s necessarily that I’m trying to make fun of people or anything like that,” he says at first. “But there is absolutely an element where it’s like, you know, if there was a girl my age who’s just had a baby or something, and she’s posting about how excited she is, all of us are clearly like, ‘This is so clearly not what she was looking to do … .and I’m like, ‘That’s not true. You’re lying through your teeth about [being excited].’ And I don’t know what the adjective would be, but in a sort of primal way, it’s kind of, you know, it’s exciting. It’s kind of, like, ‘Ooooh!’ you know? A little bit of theater going on before me.” Ian pauses a moment and points out that he is capable of enjoying the positive stuff, too. “Then, you know, you got other uplifting [posts] where I see someone who just became a firefighter that I knew who struggled a lot in high school and stuff.” Ian pauses again. “I wouldn’t say I’m malicious in what I look for in Facebook or something, but you know, it’s almost like television, where sometimes you watch your favorite sports team and hope they do well, and sometimes, you know, you turn on a reality show and just hope to see, you know, something silly happen, or something that is a little surreal to you.”

  I ask Ian about the connection he’s made between social media and reality TV—he’s the first and only person I interview who makes it. “As for Facebook, yeah. If there’s somebody in your hometown who, like, got hit by a car in town or something, it’s kind of like little mindless news that won’t affect me in any way, but it’s just kind of silly things that I can keep up on. So, you know, someone who didn’t get really hurt or anything but, you know, was on a skateboard and got clocked by a car a few weeks ago or something… . It’s just the sort of updates that you don’t really need, but you kind of want.” I sit there, stunned at the callousness he is displaying.

  Ian goes on to elaborate about the voyeuristic aspect of social media, telling me that the best voyeurism is found on anonymous sites. “Some of the most juicy kind of carnal satisfaction I get is from the Facebook pages of [my college’s] Secrets [and another of my college’s anonymous pages],” Ian says. “Every time something kind of scathing comes out, or somebody posts a secret about this or that, even if it starts anonymously, you can see people get into these ridiculous arguments, and, if you’re reading through a hundred comments, [it’s] either because you know this person in real life or you’ve noticed trends in their thoughts from the rest of their postings, and you kind of pick ones to root for in the comments if they’re all going at each other with torches and pitchforks and stuff. So you’ll be like, ‘Oh, this girl, she’s so annoying. Let’s see if they, you know, draw and quarter her here,’ and be like, ‘Ah, she got them on that comment, but let’s see if the next one—Oooh! Oooh!—you know, they got her right back,’ and it’s great.” “I mean,” he adds, “I think people are confusing open discourse with just rudeness,” even though his pleasure in all this rudeness is obvious.

  On the subject of Yik Yak, Ian believes that “it sometimes can pander to the lowest common denominator.” “Sometimes you’ll see some good stuff, and then sometimes you’ll see some just unenlightened shit that’s just annoying,” he says. “I think it’s especially nice to be on the outside of any of the drama. When [Ian names a group of people on campus] are being talked about on Yik Yak, man, I need a cigarette after reading some of those Yik Yaks about them! They were so great! They were hilarious, they were mean, they were nasty! And, you know, everything you want to see in a completely anonymous feed.”

  The more Ian talks about this subject, the more frenzied his speech and the more excited his facial expressions become, his eyes bright with the thrill of it all. I ask Ian if he ever contributes to these anonymous feeds himself. “Yeah, never with anything totally honest, never with anything really inflammatory or anything,” he says. “Because I know that you can really hurt people with that.” Although Ian says he would never post anything so hurtful himself, he loves it when someone else does. “It’s absolutely fun to witness,” he says. “I mean, there’s a certain point where it becomes kind of just like blood sport, and it’s like, ‘Oooh, this is a little too much right now!’ you know, and it certainly crosses a line… . But, I mean, at a certain point, you’ve got to invoke the mercy rule on some issues.” When I ask if he ever cries mercy on behalf of others, he says no. Yik Yak takes care of that on its own because eventually everything on it gets pushed so far down on the feed that no one sees it anymore, and Ian feels that is mercy enough.

  One might argue: Aren’t we all a little like Ian? Is it unfair to judge him? Isn’t at least some of the appeal of social media seeing the ways in which people make fools of themselves or reveal details or aspects of their personality (like arrogance, smugness, cluelessness) that they don’t realize they’re revealing? Whether we’re college students or not, most people on social media can cite at least somebody they know who inspires the train-wreck effect—what they say is so over the top, so conceited, so lacking in self-awareness that it’s difficult to turn away.

  But there is a difference, I think.

  Ian stood out among the students I interviewed as someone who was particularly cruel in the way he took pleasure in the humiliation of others. He could barely contain h
is glee as he gave me example after example of other people’s missteps. Unlike Jack, who may indeed be an Internet troll, Ian does not have the self-awareness and self-critical reflection to realize that trolling might be harmful. Ian is self-righteous about his joy in other people’s pain, and more or less assumes that his attitude is the norm.

  Perhaps it is. Perhaps the majority of the students I interviewed were just better at hiding it. But I doubt it. The majority were young women and men who—while I’m sure may occasionally enjoy some good gossip via social media—had enough experience with life and with personal struggles to feel empathy for others, or at least sympathy for people who had experienced missteps or difficulties on social media. And though studies like that of Sarah Konrath, Edward O’Brien, and Courtney Hsing at the University of Michigan have famously shown that technology is making us—and especially the younger generations—less empathetic (to the tune of 40 percent), I did not sense a lack of empathy or emotional sensitivity in the students I interviewed.4 They may all be presenting themselves as perfect online, which may not seem so empathetic, but in person these young women and men are as open and emotional as ever, and they are suffering under the weight of so much pretending and hiding.

  Ian, however, didn’t seem to have an empathetic bone in his body. This, from a young man with a brilliant mathematical mind, who has aspirations to be a good father, who loves his model trains, is an Eagle Scout, and, ironically, is in training to recognize and respond to the signs of bullying in young people.