“Open the mouth of Thy servants, Lord, and give them wisdom also, That they may rightly speak Thy Word, Which encourages a devout life, And serves to glorify Thee, Give us a desire for such nourishment, This is our petition.”  -Amish Hymn 

For nearly 40 years now, I’ve been writing about how life online changes and shapes our values and challenges the very meaning of individuality and identity.

I was writing at the birth of the Internet,  and I’m writing now and I plan to be writing about it until I drop.

I’ve written about Internet culture for the New York Times, Wired Magazine, Rolling Stone, for the Freedom Foundation, Wired, in a couple of books, and the last 14 years, on my blog.

I’ve probably gotten a million messages by now of all kinds, and I’m still standing. When I started, I had a very full and thick head of hair.

This interactive culture has taught me a lot, angered me a lot, challenged me a lot. The Internet did not turn out to be the idealistic revolution we thought it might be, but it is a fascinating and profoundly important thing. The way we communicate with each other or don’t is, in many ways, the key to understanding humanity itself.

All said and done, the Internet has been kind to me.

I am thinking about the way we talk to one another a lot this week, thanks to my friend Sue, who is in shock after starting her new blog, a decade or more in the making.

When I was at CBS News, I worked with Sue, then a young producer who quit TV to study music and become a musician.

Life in New York City has been a struggle for her and many reasons, as it is for most musicians. At the time, I thought her heroic. I still think of her that way, although being a freelance musician in New York has never been tougher.

When I started my blog 14 years ago, she messaged me and asked if a blog – not so common then – was something she ought to do. Yes, I said, the blog in the future, especially for us freaks who need to work alone and ourselves.

She flirted with the idea for years, but she was afraid of it; the idea of putting herself out there for her family and everyone else to poke at terrified her.

It was only after the pandemic hit, and she grew desperate and nearly destitute, that she finally caved. She started her blog four months ago and won’t let me link to it because it isn’t “good enough” yet, and there might be a typo or two.

I remember having a different attitude, Dyslexia, typos,  and all.  I was determined to be authentic, not all glossed up.

I just plowed right in. I would polish it up along the way. I’m still polishing, and I don’t have a single regret about starting my blog.

Sue messaged me this week, astonished at some of the flack she saw me taking for writing about my Amish neighbors.

One woman wrote that I was invading their privacy, and it creeped her out. Animal rights people protested that the Amish were cruel to their animals, and I was romanticizing their lives. Others said they were cruel to women and drove their carts recklessly on busy roads.

“Blogging is often voyeuristic,” wrote one woman.”It’s more severe in a case like this where the objects are innocent or unaware (children, a culture that doesn’t read internet texts). Revealing so many details about your own granddaughter violates the Harvard Standards on safely discussing children online. Not clear what you’re trying to show. (The Harvard and other standards also say that amateurs who diagnose people online without seeing them, knowing them,  hearing them, or speaking with them are unethical and irresponsible.)”

But that was enough for my musician friend Sue.

Okay, Sue wrote, I’m not writing on my blog anymore.

“I don’t know how you stand it,” she said. “I couldn’t. It frightens me.” She said she would consider any last words I had on the subject because she was torn – she needed to pay her rent and keep her life. I think she really wants her blog to work.

I was sorry to get her message, as I know a music blog could help Sue publicize and sell her work, which I think is very good. The Internet was supposed to make information free, not batter people into silence.

When one person is afraid to speak their mind, none of us are free.

I told her that she had to get a few things straight in her mind before continuing her blog.  First, I got hundreds of lovely messages about the Amish pieces, online and off,  about my writing about the Amish; this culture fascinates me.

Their simplicity appeals to people in this very complex world. I got much praise.

That needs to be said, and I often forget to say it. My blog gets four million hits a year, and I can’t claim that most people don’t like it or that I am persecuted.

Writing online is like performing in front of a billion people.

As a musician, she knows that some people will like it and some people won’t. I’ve never written a single post that someone didn’t hate for all sorts of reasons, some of which I didn’t even know existed.

In our culture, we understand the drama of “coming out” to the world. It’s scary. A blog, especially an authentic one, is a coming out.

That’s the reality of the online world. There is love, valuable information, and affirmation. There is also hostility, suspicion, presumption, cruelty, conspiracy rage, and rudeness.

Each shapes and informs the other, all are part of the new DNA that shapes our lives and sadly,  our morality, our politics.

When those testy geeks patched together the Internet, they didn’t install manners, respect for privacy, or kindness, into the digital DNA. There is no accountability or consequence for being an asshole online.

There are many rewards for being gentle and generous.

Welcome aboard, Sue, but bring a strong ego, some pride and patience, and a strong sense of identity.

Sometimes, I will try to write the nicest, sweetest, and most affirming things. I mean, how controversial is it to take a photo of an Amish Farmer and his horse with his permission and without showing his face?

Well, very controversial, apparently.

I never ever think of myself as any kind of big shot, but I feel an almost epidemic cynicism or mistrust in this message, they seem to hate sincerity of almost any kind.

Chillingly, this is how many people have come to see both government and the very idea of liberal democracy. It is epidemic in our culture and media.

I told my friend that there would always be praise if she did a good job, and there would always be criticism if she did a good job. And there will always be notice and criticism if you make a mistake, door a poor job, or otherwise screw up. Unlike the people who sometimes message me, I am accountable to many people.

I respect corrections. Nobody really likes criticism, praise is better, but there it is.

Criticism has taught me more than praise. It challenged me to confront my anger and sensitivity, one criticism I have taken seriously. It strengthened my own values and identity since I have to defend them so often.

Writing online, you must learn who you are and who you are not.

The Internet taught me to be civil, to be patient, and to think before replying to people who shoot first and think later.

I took the attitude that all criticism is true to the person offering it, so all criticism should be respected, even when it is vicious or cruel, as it often is.

I saw that I was sometimes hateful and thoughtless in my responses to people. I stopped doing that and even talked to a therapist about it.

I needed to understand it before I could stop it. I am getting there. The Internet has made me a better human being.

I don’t mind arguing, but I don’t care to be hateful.  And I sincerely dislike people who hide behind their computers to hurt people. But my wish is to be better than them, not the same, not worse.

In understanding this, I came to see myself more clearly and honestly.

People should be treated with respect even if they can’t return the favor. I also learned that there are many people out there who love to challenge, but they hate to be challenged.

Respect isn’t surrender.

I told Sue I never let other people tell me what to write or what not to write.  Social media promotes the idea that everybody’s business is ours. I stick by what I write, and she should also stick by her music.

I learned to never argue my beliefs and values online or with strangers.  I learned to delete the harshest and cruelest messages; they don’t deserve to live on my blog and social media pages.  They aren’t worth a nanosecond of my time.

There is no point in transmitting them.

I take responsibility for my pages, on the blog, and social media.

I don’t publish any comment I think is over the top, vicious or dishonest. I didn’t post the comment above about my granddaughter.

I told Sue that she needn’t pretend criticism doesn’t hurt, as many people do. If it hurts, say so and move on.

People ought to know that their words can hurt; many people online forget that they speak to another human being, saying things they would never dare to say to their faces.

My blog and Facebook pages are my home, and I expect people to talk to me in the same way they would speak to me in my house. I am often disappointed.

But the most important thing is that I wanted Sue to understand that I love my blog, I love the form, I love the good and generous people I have met. I won’t ever give up on it.

I will never run away from the freedom to write what I feel and think, even when I am wrong, or make an ass out of myself, or lose control of my anger.

The blog has helped me understand who I am and what kind of a writer I want to be and made it possible for me to continue my writing in a changing world.

I told Sue I hope she continues to work on her blog, speak her mind, make the kind of music she wants to make, sell it online as many musicians are doing.  It can be affirming and empowering. Good people will find her and help her, as they have always fund and helped me.

As to the feedback, I’m learning that everything people say about me is true, at least to them.

There is always something to take from it or to give back. There is always something to learn about them or me.