A small war broke out among some of the law students who have enjoyed some recognition, at least amongst some of the younger lawyers, in the blawgosphere and on twitter.  The direct combatants are Huma Rashid, who writes The Reasonably Prudent Law Student, and does a (paid?) column for Carolyn Elefant on lawyer fashion at My Shingle, and Laura McWilliams, who blogs at Really? Law?, who fancies herself a feminist and advocate for women against domestic violence. 

The gist of the battle stems from comments left at Huma’s blog by someone purporting to be Laura, but who Laura’s sister (yet another blogger) explains is a hacker,  Huma accepts that Laura didn’t post racist comments to her blog, but recoils from Laura’s reaction to her anger as being “hate speech.” 

Much of this could be easily passed off as immaturity and typical narcissism, as otherwise natural online allies are at each other’s throats, certain that they’re more entitled than the other to be pissed off.  But Huma relates a part of the tale of woe/angst that transcends the particular battle.

At some point Laura, in justification of calling Huma’s statements hate speech, apparently told Huma that she should have known better than to believe that she would write racist comments:

As for the “you should have known it wasn’t me” argument, I’m afraid I should not have. In the words of the great Michael Scott, what part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

We do not know each other. We do not go to school together, we are not in constant contact, we don’t know anything about each other. Twitter and Facebook and our blogs just allow us to fool ourselves into thinking we do. I do not know anything about you, Laura, except that you are a law student, you’re very intense when it comes to studying law, and you’re passionate about women’s rights and committed to the fight against domestic violence.

You don’t know anything about me except that I’m a Muslim, a law student with a near-rabid interest in Labor law, an animal lover, and that I love steaks, root beer, cigars, and training dogs.

This lays a very harsh reality on the line.  When it’s all about hugs and kisses, or more to the point, the hope and expectation that some online pal will refer some business our way, we engage in the fantasy that we’re all close friends and colleagues.  It’s easy to do when there’s nothing at stake, and we all wrap ourselves in the dream of either personal gain or substitute relationships to fill the void of our corporeal existence.

But we don’t really know each other.  No matter what the social media gurus say, we are not close, dear friends.  This is the most superficial of connections, wholly lacking in depth and substance.  We see only the public face, the carefully crafted internet persona, the image of who we want to be.  This ain’t real, guys, any more than the happy man in the used car commercial really loves us.

It’s easy to hug and kiss, to support and coddle, to give constant pats on the back for pats in return.  When a dispute arises, however, it becomes painfully clear that this is a charade.  Now for the really bad news.  You aren’t as wonderful as your twitter-pals say, and they couldn’t care less whether you exist or not.  You are a transitory diversion, one of the many voices in the dark with whom to play when it’s convenient or serves their interest.  Aside from that, you don’t exist.  When they turn off their computer, you go blank just like the screen.

I read a fairly good number of blawgs, written by a cross-section of lawyers.  Some impress me with their content.  Others make me certain that I wouldn’t refer my mother-in-law as a last resort.  There are a fairly large number of blawg posts that leave me with the clear belief that their authors are not good lawyers.  There are a smaller, but not inconsequential, number that inform me that their authors are incompetent.  A few strike me as dangerous.

No doubt some may feel the same way about me, and that’s good, as others should view everything, and everyone, critically.  Otherwise, mediocrity thrives and excellence dies.  To the extent that online culture has any virtue, it depends on meritocracy.  There is no future in a blawgosphere of meaningless, self-promotional drivel.

Those who are either incapable of, or lack the desire to, create anything of value will be angered by this.  They’ve bought into the social media lie that all one needs to do is “authentically engage” while feigning interest in others to win friends and find wealth and success.  Just read the insipid comments and twits applauding mediocrity; people will demean themselves to no end to maintain the fiction of online friendship.  Until, as Huma points out, a problem arises, at which point it becomes brutally clear how superficial and inconsequential the relationship is.

And there’s another point Huma makes that needs to be heard.

You think calling someone a bigot for making bigoted remarks is hate speech? You think saying ‘fuck you’ counts as hate speech?

News flash: FUCK YOU.

Perhaps, if you really think that, you ought to be told to get fucked more often. Clearly, you’re in dire need of the shock.

It is incredibly shocking, not because we aren’t confronted with people who disagree with us in real life, but because in our digital fantasyland, we’re promised only love and support.  No one tells us we’re ugly or stupid here.  The “authentic engagement” is always happy.  There are fools out there arguing that we must conduct ourselves civilly toward each other, by which they mean invariably positive.  Nary a bad word toward others.

No one likes to be the recipient of Huma’s news flash, but it needs to be said.  And it needs to be said often enough that all the little teacups can take a licking and keep on ticking.  Some days, people say nice things to you.  Some days, people say mean things to you.  Some people will like you.  Some will hate you.  Some won’t care about you at all.  That’s how real life works.  

From the mouths of babes.