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Several years ago, after the election of Trump made political polarization explicit and unavoidable, I remember several think-pieces surfaced on the “Dos,” “Don’ts,” and best practices around blocking or deleting your friends from your social media. The suggestions ranged from blocking to protect yourself in the spirit of self-care, to resisting blocking in the spirit of dialogue and change. At the time, I typically fell into the “block now and ask questions later” camp.  

My reasons for having quick “block hands” on social media were many: decreasing hope in fruitful dialogue on social media platforms (as opposed to over coffee, facilitated sessions, with loved ones, etc.); doubts about prospects of overcoming years of socialization through sound-bites; and my perceptions of the public nature and ill-intent of most social media “conversations.”  

However, I have had a couple experiences recently that are making me re-think some of those reasons, and reflect on my own motivations for blocking others in the past. So, in the spirit of being vulnerable about my shortcomings in this work, I wanted to share some of them with you in this series.  

I should say first, that I believe that we are living through a shift in our social media culture: from followers to (true) friends. While our past has been mostly a chaotic and unintentional gathering of loosely-connected individuals labeled “friends” by Facebook—I believe the future of social media is authentic communities. So, most of my motivation for deleting and blocking people who are divisive or make what I perceive as bad faith entrances into conversations, has stemmed from a desire to tighten my circles to people committed to using social media to organize and educate each other. But my motivations were not, and are not, always so pure. Blocking and deleting people can also be an easy way to prevent critiques, avoid listening to other perspectives, or participate in confirmation bias. I am guilty of all of the above.  

Blocking and deleting people can be an easy way to prevent critiques, avoid listening to other perspectives, or participate in confirmation bias. I am guilty of all of the above.   Share on X

Just recently, I posted about a podcast I was a part of on racism. Someone jumped into the comments with the extremely helpful advice that he hoped I would “tell them about the dangers of having a victim mentality” and my “false narrative of systemic racism.” Of course, I knew who “them” was intended to mean, but I offered a rebuttal by borrowing his own language and responding, “Yes! We should encourage white people to stop playing victim to the effects of racism and start taking responsibility for sustaining white supremacy.” He did not like that. White people were not the victims he was talking about after all. So, I blocked him after his final reply about the U.S. “being the land of opportunity if only people would work harder.” Those are white supremacist talking points that I don’t feel confident about undoing in an Instagram post.  

I still feel that way. But it was a lost opportunity on another level. And I’m learning this through another experience this week that I had speaking at a Unitarian Universalist church on one of the parables of Jesus in relation to white supremacy. In preparing for my talk, I was reminded not only of the power of parables (which have a long history in Jewish spiritual texts), but also how Jesus consistently used them with people who approached him with opposing world views and bad-faith intentions. Even if you don’t look to Jesus as a spiritual guide, he can be a helpful political guide. I think Jesus’ response to those who sought to question and test him, is instructive as an example of better ways to engage with trolls or other followers who oppose us on social media.  

I think Jesus' response to those who sought to question and test him, is instructive as an example of better ways to engage with trolls or other followers who oppose us on social media.   Share on X

A few lessons stand out. First, a reflective question that I often skip in social media interactions (because of my anger or gut-level desire to eliminate unhealthy interactions) is: what are this person’s intentions? Are they genuine in their critique? What are their motivations? What is their starting place? These are useful questions for assessing how, or if, I should respond. The line between those communicating genuine interest and those who are trolling may be finer than I sometimes appreciate. Genuine interest might be expressed in a way that comes across as snarky and derailing.  

What are this person’s intentions? Are they genuine in their critique? What are their motivations? What is their starting place? These are useful questions for assessing how, or if, I should respond. Share on X

Secondly, Jesus used parables to teach to onlookers and his disciples, more than he did to convince the trolls who directly confronted him. This is evident in the many ways the parables ended up addressing questions different from the trolls’ intentions, and instead got to the common theme of Jesus’ work for his friends.  

Thirdly, Jesus’s parables are beautiful in the way that he turns a mirror on his detractor’s deeper assumptions. His Socratic method is a powerful teaching tool that avoids the time-consuming work of educating folks on issues that they feel on an instinctual level but are uninformed about intellectually; this idea specifically addresses my doubts about the potential for transformative education through social media comments. With a simple rhetorical question, Jesus is able to make trolls answer for their own worldview (which many, if they are honest, have not reflected deeply on).  

Given these insights, the work that I haven’t done with my social media followers (many of whom are straight, white, working class men who have been shaped by many of the same social forces as I have), is to resist the easy decision to block and do the harder work of asking more questions, provoking, and using parables to hold a mirror to their assumptions. In the recent example, I could have asked the person how many times he’s posted about “white victim mentality” to point out the hypocrisy in his “colorblind” meritocracy comments. Or, I could have asked for his evidence for why he’s so sure that systemic racism is a “false narrative.”  

I still don’t have a lot of hope for the transformative potential of social media comments, but both of those strategies would have only taken me a few more seconds and just a tad more patience. And maybe they would have spurred some thoughts for the person, or given me further insight into his assumptions. Even if that’s all I got out of the interaction, it might have been worth it. So, to block or not to block is no longer my question. But to prod, provoke or share a parable is—or at least, it’s a part of the work I want to do going forward.