Burning Myself with the Fires of the Hidden Tongue
I am the only one that can see the comments I type out and chose to delete; I am the only one who walks away burned by the fires I lit in my soul.
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For this week, I am writing a more introspective piece on a habit that I’ve had for several years now, which is a habit common to many social media users: typing out a comment or a reply, but opting to delete it instead of publishing it. Ultimately, deciding not to publish an incendiary clap-back is a good and wise thing to do, but as a Twitter native who spends far more time typing and deleting replies than actually publishing content, I’ve noticed that this habit does something unpleasant to me, even if I never fired off the scathing salvo I meticulously crafted. This piece is not prescriptive; I am only describing my own experiences here, and if you can relate, I hope this writing is helpful for you as well.
The Liturgy of a Half-Hearted Keyboard Warrior
Recently, I took all my non-professional social media accounts (namely Twitter and Reddit) off my phone, only keeping access to the three platforms I actively manage right now. My only access to Twitter and Reddit is from my desktop, which stays in my office when I’m not using it. So far, this experiment has been relatively successful; I’ve both reduced the amount of time I’ve spent mindlessly scrolling these two platforms, while increasing the amount of writing and interaction I’ve done as well. It has also increased the number of times I’ve typed out a tweet or reply, only to pull the plug and delete it instead.
My Twitter spheres are numerous, but the sphere I pay attention to the most is the “Christian Twitter” sphere, and I have my ear to the ground on plenty of conservative, liberal, and moderate voices and the conversations they have. Naturally, there are some perspectives and topics I give more attention to than others, because they involve individuals, institutions, interests, and incidents I care about in real life. However, I would by lying if I said I only paid attention to those things. Although my Twitter feed and reply history does not show it, I spend a decent chunk of time paying attention to controversy, drama, and beefs that are unique to Christian Twitter - and a decent chunk of time teetering on the edge of entering the fray.
I am, by nature, a quiet person. Outside of those who know me well and I feel comfortable around, I do not talk much. However, I am always paying close attention to my surroundings and, in my head, commenting and responding to statements and situations unfolding around me. Whether as a fleeting response or a deliberate conscious thought, both have one thing in common; they either stay in my head, or they leave my mouth in some way. No halfsies; no take-backs.
But online is different. Online, there is a “staging ground” in between the thoughts in my head and the words that come out of my mouth. Granted, it is a “staging ground” that only I can see, but it is a place where I can spend as much time as I want working out the thoughts in my head and polishing them into sentences people can understand. But I am, by nature, a quiet person. Outside of those who know me well and I feel comfortable around, I do not talk much - but I love the fact I can play halfsies with the words I really want to say and know I shouldn’t. My Twitter feed and reply history does not show it, but I spend the vast majority of my time on the staging ground for conflict in the various Christian Twitter wars, typing out scathing, incendiary, cold, savage, ruthless, and blistering responses to individuals and institutions responsible for incidents I am interested in - and then I take them all back. Or at least, I pretend to.
Where There is Smoke, There is Fire
In the New Testament book of James, we are given a clear description of the damage our tongues and words can cause:
“How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell” - James 3:5b-6 (ESV)
In the preceding verses, James compares the tongue to a bit that controls a horse, and a rudder that steers a ship. The tongue is not the only part of our biology that contributes to speech, but it is perhaps the most important; it shapes the sounds that form the words we wish to use to communicate our thoughts. As a herald of what is going on in our hearts and minds, the tongue (and the speech it creates) is able to “bridle [the] whole body” (3:2), capable of “[blessing] our Lord and Father, and [cursing] people made in the likeness of God” (3:9). Just as a rudder can guide a ship into port, it can also guide into the rocks; just as a spark lights a fire that cooks our food and keeps us warm, that same spark can burn a forest down. James gives us vivid imagery of what is at stake with our speech, and that once the words leave our minds and fly off our tongue, there are no halfsies, no take-backs.
But online is different. To James and the authors of Scripture, oral communication was the dominant medium of communication: written communication was reservered for the educated and elite, with no backspace keys, white-out, or eraser-tipped lead pencils in sight. Technological revolutions often produced revolutions in speech, and a proliferation of communication often unimaginable in the preceding age; written speech, once seen as immutable and binding once printed, is fluid and unfixed at every stage in an online context. Twitter does not allow you to edit Tweets, but countless other places on the Internet do, and allow for as many halfsies and take-backs as you’d like - and can get away with without being called out.
When I look at my Twitter feed and reply history, I am (generally) pleased with what I find. There is nothing that I read that I regret having written and published. And yet, I am simultaneously aware of all the tweets that I have typed out and never pulled the trigger on; I am aware of the guilt, shame, and regret of knowing I have almost said things that I have no official record of saying. Where does this regret come from? I didn’t actually say those things - I have the record to prove it. However, if I walk into a room and see it burnt to a crisp, I can reasonably conclude a fire occured here; if I am convicted of speech that only I know about, I can reasonably conclude I have not escaped the warnings of James 3, and I have burned myself with the fires of the hidden tongue.
I want to be clear: it is always far, far better to delete an incendiary and scathing comment than it is to publish it. Our social media landscape would be far less hellish if people practiced this more often. One person being affected by a fire is much more preferable to an entire community being destroyed. But, we are kidding ourselves if we think that we can play with fire in the hidden staging ground that online communication afford us and not walk away burned. We may trick ourselves into thinking that the warnings of James 3 only “counts” when we hit “send”, but Scripture makes no allowance for halfsies and take-backs to the curses that come from our mouth; the dress rehersal is not the final play, but there is no final play without the dress rehersal.
I am, by nature, a quiet person. Outside of those who know me well and I feel comfortable around, I do not talk much. And yet, for someone who does not talk much (both in person and online), I bear a disproportionate amount of burns from all the fires I’ve lit in my own soul through the words that never leave the hidden staging ground afforded to me online. Typing and deleting comments and replies is not a neutral experience; it necessarily does something to us. At best, it sharpens our writing as we proofread our work; at worst, James 3 warns of a forest fire and a shipwreck that we will suffer from, regardless if anyone else is on the ship or in the forest with us. My Lord, who paid the penalty for all the fires I’ve ever lit (and countless other sins), would prefer that I not light myself on fire at all, and be free of the pain that comes with it.
Thanks for reading Passing Through Digital Babylon. There will not be a newsletter next week, as I am going to take the week to focus on research for an upcoming addition/expansion to the Digital Babylon framework. I won’t go into too much depth here, but it involves the language of “every nation, language, and people” in the books of Daniel and Revelation, and how the promises of Digital Babylon attempt to imitate the promises of Babylon, the cheap imitation of New Jerusalem and the Kingdom of God. If this was your first time reading the newsletter, please consider subscribing so you can get new pieces delivered straight to your inbox!
Together, we are passing through Digital Babylon.
Austin.