Apprehension

My first post on Substack, questioning my future on the platform

When I decided to move my blog to Substack, I did not think that my first post will be yet another expression of …… well, ….. apprehension.
I was full of the hope of new beginnings. Many writers I like and appreciate publishes here, I like the business model, I like the promise of community and the promise of freedom, the promise that this platform will not be marred by woke censorship. Yet, as I started exploring the platform and made my very first comment, I got hit by the harsh reality.

My comment was on this Post:
The Active Voice: Emily Oster is okay with taking heat from the mob, an interview by

Hamish McKenzie

, one of the founders of Substack. My reason to comment was not just the interview itself, but the fact that my last post on my old website was talking about

Emily Oster

and her article in The Atlantic.
Here is my comment.

In a comment to the conversation I shared the link to my own post and asked a question from fellow commenters. I did not have a chance to get an answer to my question, because within hours, comments were turned off on the post by Hannah  of the Substack community team, citing – of course – “community guidelines” as the reason.

The comments were, for sure, overwhelmingly negative. Harsh, but not rude, definitely not more so than the title of the article referring to her critics, including about 90% of the commenters on this interview, as a ‘mob’.
You can read several devastating posts about her right here on Substack, some of which I quoted in my own post (follow the links there).
We could argue the merits of the decision, and there are many I can relate to, but that is not the point of this post.

I believe, because I desperately want to believe, that Chris, Hamish, and Jairaj truly mean what they say on their page about content moderation, but I’m afraid they do not appreciate the scope of the problem. Let me illustrate with another example.

Last season we went to ski to Mont Tremblant as a group of seven people. We rented a cottage through Airbnb close to the North slopes of the hill. It was cheap, but not because we were lucky.
It was a dump, but we did not go there for the accommodation. The skiing and the company were great, but the place was so bad, that it was outright funny.
Falling apart furniture, construction debris in some closets, dangerous electrical wiring (where it worked), peep holes between rooms and I could go on.
It is normal procedure for Airbnb to ask for a review after leaving, so I did write a review in which I described the place as “….looking like your grandmother’s cottage ten years after she died”
It wasn’t a charitable description, but honest. That is how we saw the place. On the host’s request, Airbnb removed it from their site. I did not expect them to do so. Up to that point, I took the review process very seriously, I often made suggestions to the hosts on how they can improve their rental place and never thought that I could be censored. An exchange with Airbnb followed, but eventually gave up understanding that this is a corporate policy. NO BAD REVIEWS. Airbnb wants to project an image of one happy family, a world where no problems exist. Everybody wants to be a Superhost and a Superguest.
On my last stay, even before I left, the host told me that they will give me top rating and will expect the same in return. I was offended by the emotional blackmail. The place was OK, but far from perfect. A B- at best. But that is the world we are living in. We are all supposed to be happy, upbeat, satisfied super-winners, and if we are not, we better damn pretend. Just like the happy pioneers of the communist and fascist propaganda posters.

Which finally leads me to my point. Andy Stern, former head of the SEIU liked to describe his union strategy with a big smile on his face like this:

“First we try the power of persuasion; and if that doesn’t work, we use the persuasion of power”

Take a look at the two pictures above. The left one represents the power of persuasion, the right one the persuasion of power.
The one on the left is how the communists and socialists want to see the world, the one on the right is how conservatives and libertarians fear it will turn out, as it did many times in the past.
Propaganda and censorship are the two faces of the same coin. They are inseparable.

After I left communist Hungary, I had to realize that in 99% of my interactions I was facing a black and white view of communism. Either as the image of cheery happiness or as a dark and ominous threat.
I still have a hard time explaining that it is both and neither.

What we are living with – always – is the possibility of both. ‘Woke’ is the promise, cancel culture is the threat. Again, they are inseparable. Every possible future is both a promise and a threat.

In 2014, Mark Zuckerberg said:
"Some people have asked for a dislike button because they want to say, "That thing isn't good." And that's not something that we think is good for the world. So we're not going to build that." (emphasis mine)

This is even scarier than the threat of Andy Stern. This is what in fact Airbnb is doing.
This is the attitude that created the snowflake generation which grew up with constant affirmation, where everybody was a winner and everybody was entitled to their own opinions and even ‘facts’. (but let me get back to this point a little later)

Which begs for the question: How can we possibly be good, if no one ever tells us when we are bad?
How can we know that we are right if no one ever tells us when we are wrong?

Negative opinions are even more important for a healthy society than positive ones as they are the only ones that can create an impetus for course correction.

A course correction that

Emily Oster

badly needs. Just like Cathy Newman after her Jordan Peterson interview, Emily still cannot see the errors of her ways. They both still refuse to pay attention to their critics who explained countless times where they are wrong. The leitmotiv of the comments on Emily’s position (Let’s just forget about ‘our’ mistakes) is an expectation of some sort of apology; some sort of recognition that she can ‘see’ the people (in the Navi sense), that she understands their points and willing to take some responsibility for her mistakes. The best summary of her position is in her article:

“But most errors were made by people who were working in earnest for the good of society.”

She cannot be blamed for anything, because she meant well. She never apologized, and as long as she is getting helping hands shielding her from criticism, it is unlikely that she ever will.

In the end, Emily Oster and Cathy Newman are just the symptoms of the postmodernist societal rot focused on the positive while shirking away from any kind of criticism and scorn, no matter how well deserved it is.   

I pointed out in F…… nice! Be good!, that we should always be “…compassionate, considerate and polite”, but that does not mean silent.
I did not find anything inappropriate in the comments and absolutely nothing that would justify turning off comments altogether.

So here I am with my first post being critical of a founder of the platform. Do I have any future on it?
I understand the sentiments and drivers behind the standards. I do not want porn, spam and violence either and I wish to have some control over the comments to my own posts, hoping that I will never have to use them. 

Still, I have to ask myself and you as well: Is this post OK? Is the one about Emily? Am I offensive?

I feel very strong apprehension. How should I handle it?

…and while you are contemplating the answer: Welcome to my new Substack! I hope to see you again.

Further reading:
Emily and the House of Terror
F…… nice! Be good!

References

The Active Voice: Emily Oster is okay with taking heat from the mob
Let’s Declare a Pandemic Amnesty - The Atlantic
Substack’s view of content moderation