How do we argue with those who are incapable of argumentation? This is a question I’ve been grappling with for some time. If your child is demanding sweets before dinner, screaming like a banshee and committing various acts of domestic vandalism, you have few options. You might attempt to initiate a debate, outlining the pros and cons of ingesting unhealthy food in advance of a nutritious meal, but this strategy will invariably fail. In the end, you’ll just have to tell the little brat to shut up and do what he’s told. Or, better still, avoid having children in the first place.
Many of us will have experienced something similar on Twitter (or X, if you insist). Something about the platform has the effect of curdling the sweetest Dr Jekylls into the most repugnant of Mr Hydes. And when someone just bleats insults, or mischaracterises your views, or generally cannot engage in good faith, the best thing to do is to block them. You don’t owe anyone your time and attention, and you’ll only drive yourself insane trying to reason with the unreasonable. Most clever adages end up being attributed to Mark Twain whether he wrote them or not, and this one is no exception: “Never wrestle with a pig; you just get dirty and the pig enjoys it”.
One of the best things about withdrawing from Twitter is that I am no longer bombarded by complaints that my blocking people on the platform proves that my commitment to free speech is inauthentic. The typical tactic is to screenshot the cover of my book Free Speech and Why It Matters as a kind of “gotcha” to illustrate my hypocrisy. And while I am grateful for the publicity, it does get rather tedious having to explain this most common and basic of misapprehensions. The podcaster Stephen Knight put it rather succinctly: “Someone implying that being blocked on Twitter is somehow a violation of their free speech is the fastest way you can tell people you don’t understand free speech.” Instead of smugly posting images of my book, perhaps they ought to read it instead.
In a surreal twist, my blocking habits on Twitter recently made the news. Just after Christmas, an article by Pierra Willix was published in the Metro with the headline: “Confusion as GB News presenter who champions ‘free speech’ blocks critics”. In truth, I have never blocked anyone for polite criticism; I welcome it. And while it goes without saying that nobody expects factual accuracy from the Metro, we should be concerned that an individual who aspires to make a living in journalism does not appear to understand the concept of free speech.
Willix has fallen for what Helen Pluckrose and James Lindsay have called “the fallacy of demanding to be heard”. They make the point that just as freedom of religion incorporates freedom from religion, the right to speak and listen also entails the right not to speak and listen. If you’ve ever received an unwelcome phone call and hung up, you have not impeded on the caller’s rights. If you choose not to read my books, I cannot claim to have been censored. If you block someone on social media, all it means is that you’re not interested in what they’ve got to say. I’ve been blocked by hundreds of people online and, although this clearly reflects poorly on their taste and judgement, my freedom of speech remains intact.
Permit me to suggest a workable rule of thumb when it comes to blocking online. Just imagine if someone came up to you on the street and exclaimed: “You’re an evil ugly Nazi and you should be thrown into a live volcano”. (I’m paraphrasing one of my more disgruntled critics.) Now what would you do in that situation? Would you…
Stop for a moment and say: “Goodness, that’s an interesting point of view. Let’s discuss that a little more, shall we? Perhaps over a glass of crème de menthe?”
Walk away.
If you opt for the latter, that’s the equivalent of the block on social media. Blocking is not censorship. It’s the difference between choosing to cover one’s own ears or forcibly stopping someone else’s mouth.
There are many other good reasons to block. I generally block those who throw insults, post threats or libel, assume bad faith, or those who tell me that they know what I am secretly thinking. These amateur telepaths are remarkably common on social media. Total strangers have variously informed me that I am a men’s rights activist, a white nationalist, a Tory voter and a raging homophobe. All of these happen to be the precise opposite of the truth, but since my detractors speak with the certainty of Old Testament prophets, their lies tend to gain traction. I’ve even been told that I’m being funded by “dark money”. This money must be very dark indeed, given that I have never actually seen any of it.
If one wishes to avoid being drawn into endless arguments with these fantasists, many of whom seem to believe that the promotion of liberal values is some kind of “far-right dog-whistle”, blocking is a sensible option. But even if you were to block someone on a whim – for overusing emojis, or being a Sagittarius, or because they can’t spell “parallelogram” – this would be your prerogative. I have started blocking those who claim that blocking is a threat to their free speech. Not that I’m intolerant of the intellectually challenged, it’s just that I prefer to keep them off my timeline. Call it quality control.
Another option is to mute the worst offenders, but of course this does leave you open to malicious campaigns of mass reporting. In addition, there is a certain species of online troll that feels no compunction in posting libellous tweets wherever possible. Although muting them means that you will never have to see it, they are still able to use your tweets as a springboard to defame and smear. Why give them the satisfaction?
In the midst of pile-ons, I have been known to block the most sociopathic offenders and all of their followers. This instantaneously has the effect of curbing the swarm; a clipping of the winged monkeys, if you will. Of course, this does inevitably result in a degree of friendly fire, and I am always happy to unblock those who have been caught up in the melee. It’s an imperfect situation, but once you have reached a certain number of followers, Twitter becomes unsustainable without weeding out the more bizarre and abusive users. (In other words: if I’ve blocked you by accident, don’t take it personally.)
Being in favour of free speech doesn’t mean you want to listen to what every single maniac or numbskull has to say. It means that you don’t want anyone to be censored. Far from being a threat to free speech, the block function on social media is a guarantee of free speech. It means that each individual user gets to decide for themselves what they read. It means we don’t require big tech overlords, or those sinister Silicon Valley “Trust and Safety Councils”, to decide what’s best for us and ban those accounts deemed to be “offensive” or “unsafe”.
That said, we need to wary of the “echo chamber” phenomenon. I’ve never understood those who only wish to hear their own opinions repeated back to them. How can you possibly develop your ideas if you don’t leave yourself open to be challenged? Without humility, we cannot grow, and there is always something we can learn from even our bluntest critics. I have no interest in echo chambers, which is why I go out of my way to engage with those who disagree with me. I read their books and articles, I participate in public debates, I invite them on to my show on GB News. But the idea that Twitter is the best forum for these discussions is absurd.
Somehow, in the quagmire of social media, we have to find a way to restore civility when it comes to our differences. The block function is a useful tool in this regard. We should all be open to persuasion, but that does not mean we should waste our time wrestling with pigs. There is little point in attempting to defend a fictitious version of yourself that your detractors have invented. Instead, reserve your time and energy for those who are still capable of adult discussion. Leave the rest to roar away into the vacuum of cyberspace.
Excellent article. But sometimes I do feel these morons crave a block to RT as some kind of trophy, as a “win” of some kind, and I’m so pig-headed I REFUSE to play their game! Like Ricky Gervais says, “I should’ve left it…..but….” 😁
Like always, superbly written.
Someone doesn't like kids in that one paragraph, and describes an inept parent.
Loved the illustration as well.
One thing comes through... - you care a lot Andrew... And that comes with a price you've described.
If you wrestle with a pig, do it because you enjoy it as well... On your own terms...
Yet I know for all your care, you can be as sharp as any pen in cutting someone down, even while being funny.
Pick your own pigs!
And do it with a smile, life is a bit short for tiresome idiots anyway.
Thanks Andrew