Welcome to The Middle Way Society

The Middle Way Society was founded to promote the study and practice of The Middle Way. The Middle Way is the idea that we make better judgements by avoiding fixed beliefs and being open to practical experience. We challenge unhelpful distinctions between facts and values, reason and emotion, religion and secularism or arts and sciences. Though our name is inspired by some of the insights of the Buddha, we are independent of Buddhism or any other religion. We seek to promote and support integrative practice, overcoming conflict of all kinds.

Patrons: Iain McGilchrist and Stephen Batchelor

Five Years of the Middle Way Society

The Middle Way Society is now five years old! It had its first origins in a retreat where five people got together for five days in my house in Malvern, in late August 2013. Those five people had got to know each other in the context of secular Buddhism. On that retreat, as well as us all practising together, I tried to share some of the ideas about the Middle Way as a framework for thinking, ethics and practice that I had been developing since the late 1990’s. Barry Daniel describes his experience of this retreat here.  At the end of it I proposed the founding of the society, and it was agreed.

The society aims to support the development both of the idea of the Middle Way as a principle of judgement, and of the practice of the Middle Way. These two aspects of the work of the society are thoroughly interdependent, though the former is more distinct from what other organisations are doing. We are not aiming to create a new religious group, but rather a support group that is compatible with a Middle Way interpretation of any religious (or philosophical, political, scientific, or other) tradition.

The first post on this website was a simple welcome put up on 8th Sept 2013. Since then there have been 140 podcasts, hundreds of blogs (the majority by me, but also by Jim Champion, Rich Flanagan, Peter Goble and others), 32 book reviews, further audio-visual material including a set of 30 introductory videos to Middle Way Philosophy, and a number of other pages intended to introduce Middle Way Philosophy. But the website is not the only focus of the society’s activities. We have held 14 retreats so far at various venues around England, led by me, Nina Davies and Barry Daniel. We also have an ongoing Skype discussion group and a Skype meditation group. We have an active YouTube channel, with more than 1200 subscribers, a Facebook page where quotations and helpful links are frequently posted, and an active Twitter account.

The society has grown slowly during these 5 years, and of course, like any organization, had some setbacks and difficulties. However, its wider influence has probably grown more swiftly than its actual membership. Many of the podcasts have been with relatively well known people (for instance Stephen Batchelor, Iain McGilchrist, Daniel Siegel, Sangharakshita, Daniel Goleman, Don Cupitt, Karen Armstrong, Jonathan Porritt, Ed Catmull, Stephen Jenkinson) and this has helped us to make connections between their areas of interest and the Middle Way, which sits in between them all. If a few thousand more people have heard of the Middle Way and might possibly consider it as a genuine option, when it wasn’t previously on their agendas at all, then I feel we have achieved something.

I am proud of what we have achieved in five years, even though it has sometimes felt like slow going. But there is a long, long way to go before a significant number of people even start to think of the Middle Way as a viable option. There are many individuals and movements that use the Middle Way implicitly in certain areas of belief or practice, but so far very few indeed that use it explicitly and recognise its potential. The thing we need most is more live events that help to develop a sense of community, where people are able to engage in more depth with what the Middle Way might mean for their lives. We also need more people to join the society and play a more active role in making effective live events happen.

The rest of this post gives some testimonies from three other people who have been closely involved with the society: Julian Adkins, Peter Goble and Susan Averbach.

Robert M. Ellis (Malvern, UK)

The metaphor of a middle way is used widely and so, perhaps like all of us, I have been exposed to it in different contexts for most of my life.  However, it became more philosophically meaningful for me in the course of attending secular Buddhist retreats and reading related books – especially those by Stephen Batchelor. These teachings related to charting a middle way through life were much more than a benign appeal to moderation in all things, but rather a pragmatic response to radical scepticism about we can know with certainty and what that even means.

Having been a casualty of religious dogmatism at a very personal level, this is what I needed to enable me to continue to engage with a tradition I found meaningful and yet of which I was also deeply suspicious – and remain so.

It was against this background that I was introduced to Robert Ellis’s work through Barry Daniel, a mutual friend, and attended the first residential gathering of what has now become the Middle Way Society – generously hosted by Robert himself at his home in Worcestershire.

I hope my reading and involvement since has deepened my appreciation of these ideas and related practices. Indeed, it is my faltering attempts to actually practice a middle way that I value most. I still resist giving a middle way the definite article, although for convenience I often do. Perhaps this is just my own contrary nature, but perhaps it is also my own way of focusing on the metaphor of navigation; a way of proceeding rather than a specific route. As soon as I start thinking that this route is right and another is wrong, I am straight back into that black and white thinking that a middle way of doing things defies.
Of course some routes are better than others, but if I can get along the road without ending up in the ditches on either side, I’m doing okay. If I ever think I know exactly where the centre is, I am probably already in one of those ditches!

Five years since its inception is a wonderful opportunity to say thank you to the Middle Way Society; to Robert; to Barry and all those who have contributed and those who continue to do so. Thank you all.

Julian Adkins (Edinburgh, UK)

The Middle Way has internalised itself in me as a guiding principle in all my relations, with ‘myself’, with ‘other people’, and with the ‘world outside’. I am less at odds with all of ‘those things’, and the ‘connections’ I thought to have made with “every’ ‘thing’ have loosened.

I am generally less anxious and defensive.

I have been a very hard nut to crack. As when cracking a walnut, you can use a metal device, which may destroy the nut and its content, or you can use the flexed thumb as an anvil and the closed fist as a soft mallet, which does the job simply and cleanly, with practice and open-mindedly.

The Middle Way is like the latter approach, I think. But I think we may need to find other ways of sharing it more widely for it to gain traction and utility in an information- and technology-glutted world. The answer(s} elude(s) me, but beckon(s) on the periphery of my consciousness, and I acknowledge it/them.

I recently heard that the Incas knew how to use logs to move great stones, but never invented the wheel (as far as can be known from historical records and artefacts). I feel we may be at that point with the Middle Way, and I hope we are right, and that the penny will drop soon!

Peter Goble (Normandy, France)

Being actively involved with the Middle Way Society, taking classes, hearing podcasts, reading blog posts, and general discussions about middle way approaches to our everyday dilemmas, has changed me for the better. I am more open to various religious practices and thoughts. I am more able to hear points of view that differ from my own, mainly because I realize that my opinions are provisional and based upon my own experience. In avoiding absolutes I am more able to ask the right questions of those who are entrenched in absolutes. If more people learned a middle way approach we’d be less divided and would be able to create a more just and loving society.

One bonus benefit of becoming versed in middle way thought is that I now have a greater appreciation of Judaism, which I think, encourages reflection and debate, especially around biblical narrative. The shared study and analysis of the Bible and commentaries over the centuries has offered a tool that has been and continues to serve an integrative purpose for many, somewhat similar to a middle way approach, in my opinion.

Susan Averbach (San Francisco, US)

Pictures are taken from Middle Way Society Retreats: 1. Walking Retreat in the Lake District 2018, (2) Meaning Retreat at Telscombe, Sussex in 2014.

The MWS Podcast 140: Jeremy Lent and Robert M Ellis on themes arising from ‘The Patterning Instinct’

We are joined today by the author and integrator Jeremy Lent and the chair of the Middle Way Society Robert M Ellis. Jeremy was a recent guest on the podcast when he spoke to us about his book “The Patterning Instinct: A Cultural History of Humanity’s search for Meaning”. Shortly afterwards Robert wrote a review of the book and some of the themes and issues raised in that review will form the basis for our discussion today.


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The MWS Podcast 139: Laura Bridgman on the Inner Critic

Our guest today is Laura Bridgman. Laura was ordained as a Buddhist nun in 1995, and was resident at Amaravati and Chithurst monasteries in the UK for eighteen years until she moved out to live as a solitary nun in 2010. In 2015 Laura left the monastic tradition to pursue the Diamond Heart (Ridhwan) spiritual path alongside her Vipassana practice. She has run several retreats over the last couple of years on the subject of the ‘Inner Critic’ and this will be the topic of our discussion today.


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Fiddling while the planet burns

The world is burning, burning, burning…. Yes, with greed, hatred and ignorance, as the Buddha pointed out about 2500 years ago in his ‘Fire Sermon’ (also found in T.S. Eliot’s ‘Wasteland’). But it is not just burning ‘metaphorically’. The world is burning quite literally. There are, or recently have been, wildfires in Greece, the US, Canada, Sweden, even Northern England… In 1997, massive fires in Indonesia added 40% to the world’s CO2 emissions. Such fires should add to anyone’s sense of urgency as regards climate change.

What the two kinds of fire have in common is that they are both part of closed feedback loops. The literal fires create more CO2, which adds to the Greenhouse Effect and Global Warming, desiccating the forests and creating more fires. The ‘metaphorical’ fires, on the other hand, burn in our reptilian brains: our striatum (craving) and amygdala (anxiety) create stress responses that interfere with our ability to understand and respond to the complex systemic problems known as ‘global warming’. The more stressed we feel, the more we reach desperately for shortcut absolutisations to contain it or dismiss it, the less adequate our response becomes, and the more we continue to behave in ways that exacerbate the situation – in turn increasing our stress. Runaway climate change could very easily happen inside people’s brains as well as in the world at large.

It is a feature of closed feedback loops that they tend to become ‘runaway’. The self-feeding causal loops create more and more of the same effect, taking us further and further away from any degree of equilibrium or stability. The ways in which the ecosystemic phenomena of the planet are getting caught up in these runaway loops is increasingly understood by those who pay any attention to climate change. We know that the melting ice caps reduce reflectivity of the sun’s radiation back into space, thus accelerating global warming. We also know that melting permafrost releases methane, a potent greenhouse gas that also accelerates the process. Both of these runaway loops are already well under way. We also know that higher CO2 levels acidify the oceans, which in turn reduces their ability to absorb carbon. Those are just the headlines of these complex ecosystemic loop effects. Many of them are well described in this excellent article by David Wallace-Wells.

But the runaway feedback loops are not limited to ecosystemic phenomena. They are also found in our psychological responses to them. Runaway feedback loops are particularly found in the mentally ill, the ideologically possessed, the addicted, the traumatised and the desperate. They are created by responses that our forebears probably developed to deal with short-term crisis situations that can only be resolved by rapid action, like fleeing a predator. But when the ‘predator’ keeps coming again and again without being decisively escaped, we replay the crisis response again and again in our heads. Our behaviour then turns to extremes, because we can only then act in shortcut, desperate ways. We may fight someone other than the source of danger because of a false association. We may deny that there is any danger present, or we may keep fleeing in the wrong direction. We will do anything as long as we feel we are doing something – anything but assessing and responding to the situation adequately. To do that we would have to understand more of its complexity and take long-term action. That would require a more balanced, stable, aware state of mind.

To understand global warming at all requires systemic thinking, in which we don’t restrict ourselves to one type of phenomenon or one way of studying it, but rather try to see all the processes in relation to each other (as far as we can). Nevertheless, many discussions of global warming seem to pay insufficient attention to the ways that the same feedback loops occur in our psychological responses to it. So, I have tried to combine the ecosystems with the psychosystems in this diagram. Like any attempt to represent a complex system, it is bound to leave a lot out. Even the phenomena mentioned will be related to each other in ways that aren’t represented by arrows, and then there will be lots of other phenomena involved that aren’t mentioned. But hopefully it is complex enough to show a variety of important closed feedback loop relationships (and related one-way causal effects), thus raising awareness, without being too complex to understand.

Whilst creating this diagram, I was reflecting on the ways that simply making this range of connections may be sufficient to understand the most important elements of the issue, without the necessity for detailed knowledge of exactly how strong any of these causal relationships are at any one point, or of the detailed evidence for that strength. Of course, that kind of knowledge is desirable, but perhaps the importance of acquiring it is often over-rated. If you focus too much on the evidence for one of these links (say, the causes and extent of the melting ice caps), you may end up building your entire response to global warming on that evidence (which may offer various potentials for disputed interpretation) and losing sight of the larger web of systemic connections that it is part of. However, even if you were to cut out the melting ice caps there are still plenty of other closed feedback loops at work, carrying the potential for serious runaway effects.

Simply understanding the systemic connections, and the ways in which these causal processes may operate to varying degrees, is enough to raise our awareness, when we realise how much many of them are mutually reinforcing. Many people, however, make the mistake of only thinking about some aspects of these mutually reinforcing loops whilst assuming that everything else will hold steady. This is particularly the case for the psychological (and thus political) effects. When we imagine humans responding to increasing climate change threats in the future, we tend to imagine humans living in the relatively stable, liberal world of Western democracy, where the more highly educated still have a fair amount of influence and there is still a fair degree of consensus between the educated and the powerful. What we need to take into account is that in all probability, the massive instability, widespread trauma, economic collapse and conflict that will be created by global warming will also massively degrade the capacity of human societies to make effective decisions in relation to it.

Central to recognising this is the relationship between absolutisation, bias, polarisation and stress responses that have been closely related to my interests in developing Middle Way Philosophy. The development of the mindfulness movement has made society increasingly aware of the negative effects of stress and the ways it can be counteracted, but not yet sufficiently of the ways that stress interacts with bias and polarisation, and there is very little awareness indeed that absolutisation can be recognised as a factor in all this. However, the more stressed we are, the more we are likely to rely on prefabricated mental shortcuts (absolutisations), rather than slowing down either for more careful conceptual thinking, or to take in more information, or to consider new models or ways of interpreting that information. Our current represented conceptual formulations are likely to be assumed to be enough, however limited the awareness on which they are based. Thus, at the very point when we face a crisis of unparalleled complexity, for which we need the maximum of awareness and reflectiveness, we are likely to start losing it. David Wallace-Wells points out that even the rise of CO2 levels itself directly degrades human cognitive capacity. Even those individuals who retain higher levels of awareness are likely to lose influence, when ever greater numbers of people in society as a whole are going into absolutising mode.

The most frightening thing is that this is no longer just a debatable prediction for the future – it’s happening already. That Brexit and Trump have occurred at the very point in human history when something resembling a halfway adequate worldwide political response to climate change had developed (in the shape of the Paris Agreement), can hardly be a coincidence. Brexit and Trump mark popular revolts against liberalism and the loss of identity and communal security it is perceived as bringing with it. These popular revolts, compared to the establishment consensus liberalism that they have usurped, are more strongly marked by heavy confirmation bias, single cause fallacies, straw men, ad hominem attacks and other such shortcuts. Whilst Brexit is wielded by neo-liberal ideologues who are prepared to use nationalism as a tool of influence, Trump is an endlessly manipulable pawn in the hands of similar ideologues in the US. The nuanced thinking of expert civil servants is being sidelined both in Washington and in London. This revolt is not yet primarily about climate change, but it is certainly directed against the liberal culture that was capable of doing something about climate change, and maintains the short-term interests of those with most to lose from its recognition – the rich. As such, it offers a foretaste of what is likely to follow when climate change strengthens, and when a collapse in food supply and the economy, coupled with increasingly extreme events, create greater panic.

As to when this will happen, it’s crucial to recall the properties of complex systems. Complex systems appear robust up to the point when they suddenly collapse, because their complexity gives them lots of adaptive options for new conditions. But each of these new adaptations adds more complexity and thus more vulnerability to any threat to the basic conditions that keep that whole system going. Thus, we can expect that when food scarcities arise from drought, flooding and other extreme weather events, the complex worldwide trading system will keep compensating by bringing food in from anywhere in the world, as well as finding new sources of food and more economical ways of producing it. However, that system can also suddenly collapse when there is no longer enough food to immediately support the people who maintain the trading systems. At that point, the inventiveness ceases and is replaced by desperate conflict over the remaining resources. When the system goes, it will go quite suddenly, along with all its inter-connecting dependent elements: food, economy, government, social support, security, basic trust and confidence. We may still have faith in that system until the moment it collapses.

The danger in writing in this vein is that this, also, may contribute to the very same closed feedback loops that the Middle Way is concerned with trying to avoid. When confronted by climate change, the most common response is denial of one kind or another – either theoretical denial or mere denial of practical responsibility. Much publicity about climate change often seems to accentuate this effect. On the other hand, it can also produce extreme positive responses. A friend of mine going back to childhood, Roger Hallam, has recently been involved in hunger striking against the third runway at Heathrow, and is now leading an ‘Extinction Rebellion’. Desperate times, we may feel, justify desperate measures. The trouble is that desperate measures are another form of shortcut – they simply do not work, because of the mental states they have to be pursued in. I greatly agree with everything Roger says about climate change, and even his assessment of the urgency of the situation, but I won’t be joining his rebellion.

By contrast, the Middle Way is not likely to work quickly enough, even if it was much more widely adopted. But the practice of the Middle Way depends on a more or less liberal political context, a tolerant society, and a weight of population that is both well-educated and secure. When we lose these, the chances of practising the Middle Way will become very slim indeed. Yet, despite this, as far as I can see, the Middle Way is our only hope. Extreme lunges tend to be based on rigid ideological assessments of the situation, or alternatively on a single-minded pursuit of the interests of a limited class. Their effect is to create more conflict and add further to our difficulties. Only the capacity to re-assess, adapt and persuade as we go along can possibly help us address this situation, and that depends on awareness, not rebellion. If the conditions for the practice of the Middle Way decay, all we can do is try to build them back up again.

Our sanity in the difficult times to come seems to me to be sustainable only by a feature of human brains that in other times has often served us ill: the shallow optimism of the left hemisphere. Even when Western civilisation is collapsing, we may still keep looking for the next opportunity round the corner. There is always hope, because, unless we are predisposed towards depression, hope is our default setting. It is not based on there being reasons enough for hope. At times, too, that hope may become more integrated, and we may reconnect with a basic contentment arising from our bodies. If we can slow or stop the closed feedback loop in our own brains, perhaps we will be able to live out our lives doing our best, however hopelessly, to maintain the earth.

Sources

There are many sources of information about climate change. David Wallace-Wells’ article, which was one of the catalysts for this one, has a fully referenced version. I’d suggest that his references offer a good place to start when checking on the factuality of any of the (widely accepted) factual assumptions about global warming in this article.

Many of the psychological elements here arise from my own work in Middle Way Philosophy. The relationship between absolutisation, biases and polarisation is particularly explored in Middle Way Philosophy 4: The Integration of Belief. This work synthesizes various other influences that are reviewed on this site, such as Iain McGilchrist’s ‘The Master and his Emissary’ and Daniel Kahneman’s ‘Thinking Fast and Slow’. Paul Gilbert’s ‘The Compassionate Mind’ is a good source on the disruptive effects of the Reptilian brain and how they can be soothed.

On systems theory, I have also recently reviewed an excellent new introduction by Capra and Luisi. This includes some good material on ecosystems, but also puts these in the context of systems theory as a whole.

The diagram was created by me, and may be freely used by others for any educational purpose.

In Defence of, the Much Maligned, Twitter

“For any women who are compelled, against their wishes, to wear a Hijab, I would fully support such a notion [to arrange a #TakeOffYourHijab day in solidarity with the Iran protests]. Similarly, I would not like to see any woman compelled, against her wishes, to remove her Hijab either”.

I tweeted this on 31st December last year, in response to the suggestion by – counter-extremist, author, broadcaster and Founding Chairman of Quilliam – Maajid Nawaz that, what he calls the ‘regressive left’ would not support a Take Off Your Hijab Day, even though they have been vocal in their support of World Hijab Day. It’s an uncontroversial response in what I think was an interesting and important debate (one that had been inspired by the Iranian protests which were ongoing at the time).  However, it’s not the content of this debate that I want to discuss here but what happened next and how it caused me to reflect on my overall experience of Twitter (and online communication in general).

I’ve had loads of debates and disagreements on Twitter.  These have covered a whole range of subjects and have involved people from a wide range of political backgrounds.  I’ve debated with left-wing Jeremy Corbyn supporters about media bias and Donald Trump supporters about gun control, but the issue of Muslim women wearing head coverings, and the comments that I made about it, seemed to inspire a level of hostility that I hadn’t encountered on Twitter before.  Now, I should say right away that, although it felt abusive at times, what I experienced was still extremely mild compared to what others – notably women – can, and do, experience on a disturbingly regular basis.  Nevertheless, it was still quite shocking and, while I’m not one who takes offence very easily, it became pretty overwhelming.  This was partly because of the frequency with which the criticisms came, but it was more to do with the nature of the onslaught.  My points were largely being ignored in favour of increasingly personal attacks.  Eventually, feeling deflated and tired following twenty-four hours of Twitter exchanges, I muted the conversation (meaning I could only view my own previous posts, but would not see anything else) and reported some of the most abusive participants, thereby bringing my role in the discussion to an end.

This spiral into uncivilised discourse all seems rather predictable.  It’s a common trope to point out the negative and harmful effects of Twitter, and other forms of social media; it is often discussed by the public and widely reported upon by the media.  I don’t want to play down this aspect of social media; it is real, it can have extremely severe consequences and there has not yet, in my opinion, been anyway near enough done to address it – by either the companies involved, various governments, or society in general.  Online bullying, shaming, threats of rape, and the spread of destructive ideologies are just a few examples of a problem for which endless discussion has led to little in the way of meaningful action.  Nonetheless, my experience, as described above, affected me in a way that was as intense and vivid as it was surprising.  My initial weariness passed quite quickly, and what I was left with was the realisation that the overwhelming majority of my experiences on Twitter have been positive.  Sometimes deeply so.

Sure, as I said before, I’ve had lots of debates and arguments that have often felt intense and fractious, but even these have been positive in one way or another.  Even in some of the most impassioned debates, people have been civil and have tended to focus on the points being made, rather than resorting to personal insults.  Inevitably, such encounters have ended with an agreement to disagree and a mutual well-wishing from each party.  To my mind, the point of such arguments is not to change anyone’s mind – the chance of being successful on a platform like Twitter is miniscule – but to allow parties of differing political persuasions and opinions to understand why someone might think differently to them.

While I don’t doubt that there is a problem with some people swaddling themselves in the safety of their carefully constructed echo-chamber, this hasn’t been my experience.  Brexiters and Trump supporters regularly respond to, and challenge, things that I have written – and I’m always pleased when they do.  For my part, I try very hard to stick to a few simple rules that include: never passing comment on personal features and traits, and never ridiculing people for spelling and grammatical errors.  Although, my biggest weakness, I have to admit, is a tendency for sarcasm.  I am frequently sarcastic on Twitter – much more than I am in ‘real life’ – but I do think it serves a useful purpose.  I try not to be sarcastic about the things detailed above; instead, I usually use sarcasm to highlight, what I think, is a logical error in someone’s argument or just to try and be humorous about something frivolous.  What the former often achieves is the provocation of a response, in a way that blandly pointing out a perceived mistake rarely does, meaning that the issues can then be discussed in greater detail.

Of course a large part of Twitter activity doesn’t involve abuse, or politically infused arguments; most of it consists of superficial attempts to provide stimulation of the neurological pleasure receptors:

Post something that you hope is interesting or funny.

Receive a ‘like’.

Experience an instant, but short lived feeling of satisfaction (or not, if your post doesn’t get any response at all).

Despite this apparently shallow cycle, Twitter (and the wider world of internet communication) can be, and frequently is, the source of meaningful personal encounters and opportunities that might not otherwise be possible.  In the spring of last year, I was struggling to find the motivation I needed to finish an assignment.  I was reading the news, making repeated trips to the cupboard for snacks, listening to music, staring into space and, naturally, checking Twitter.  As part of this particularly long bout of procrastination I constructed and posted some frivolous tweets – hoping, of course, for another short-lived hit of dopamine.  One such Tweet was a comment on my current efforts of procrastination alongside a wish to obtain just a small portion of – Art Historian, Oxford University lecturer, author, TV presenter and enthusiastic Tweeter – Dr. Janina Ramirez’s – apparently (as anyone who follows her work will know) endless levels of energy.  These kinds of Tweets rarely get any response at all, so I was surprised when Janina replied.  Although it was a small gesture I was struck by the kindness of it.  I wasn’t commenting on something she was trying to sell, and she didn’t need to respond; I was quite happy throwing Tweets into the, usually unresponsive, abyss.  Instead, I received my sought-after hit and also enjoyed a fresh wave of motivation, with which I was able to complete the assignment (for which I received my highest mark of the previous few years).

Anyway, to take a sharpened cleaver to a rather long story, this simple sharing of Tweets led to my attending the wonderful Gloucester History Festival, where I was able to chat with Janina, who is the President of the festival, along with some of her supporters and friends – a few of whom I had briefly communicated with on Twitter before.  One of the main things that struck, and surprised, me about this experience was how easy it was to speak to those people I had met previously on Twitter.  Although I don’t avoid crowds (I quite enjoy them), I don’t usually feel very comfortable meeting a lot of new people and can be perfectly happy staying in the background, either on my own or with a small group of friends.  On this occasion, however, the joy of meeting people who I’d only known online, and getting on well with them, was quite emotional and even a little overwhelming.  Since then I regularly converse with the people I met there, and now consider them (Janina included) to be friends.  That such meaningful relationships are possible from relatively flippant tweets is a wonder, and stands firmly in opposition to the characterisation of social media as a vacuous and futile cesspit.

My very involvement with the Middle Way Society, and the friendships I’ve made within it, were also made possible through online communication.  If I hadn’t become involved in a debate about the definition of religion on an online forum several years ago then I wouldn’t be writing this, and nor would I have subsequently had so many wonderful opportunities.  My experience of meeting founding members Robert and Barry (at what I thought was a Secular Buddhist UK retreat, but was in fact a kind of committee meeting for a soon-to-be-no-more organisation), was similar to the one I later had in Gloucester.  We’d all been involved in several discussions on the aforementioned forum and, on eventually meeting in person, we seemed to know each other better than I had expected.  Robert, Barry and Peter (who I met at the same time online, but later in person) quickly became dear friends.  Following the ensuing foundation of the Middle Way Society, I was asked if I’d like to join, which – after some hesitation (I’ve always been wary of becoming part of a ‘group’) – I agreed to do, as well as agreeing to become a member of the committee.  This has meant I’ve been able to push myself and achieve things that I never thought I would – like writing blogs, for instance.

There are many problems with Twitter (and social media in general), but there are also many  positives. We are still learning how to use this relatively new form of interaction; we are still immature and naïve.  Even so, I feel confident that we’ll learn how to make use of social media with more maturity and care than we currently do.  Part of the problem is that this new frontier of communication gives the illusion that we are not dealing with embodied human beings, but lines of text generated from an abstract source.  This has the effect of reducing our sense of social responsibility and shielding users from the effects that they have on others.  Social conventions and restrictions can, when implemented wisely, serve as cohesive and stabilising forces.  These have yet to develop fully, or effectively, in cyberspace and it remains difficult to predict what form they will eventually take, but I nonetheless believe that things will get better.  By highlighting and encouraging that which is beneficial, as well as highlighting and challenging that which is harmful, we can begin to negotiate a Middle Way between the extremes of an imagined online utopia on the one hand and an online world that is categorised as a threat to society itself on the other.


You can hear our 2016 podcast about public shaming on social media with, journalist and author, Jon Ronson here.


If you are, or know someone who is, experiencing online abuse then these links provide advice of what you can do:

http://www.stoponlineabuse.org.uk/

https://www.amnesty.org.uk/press-releases/more-quarter-uk-women-experiencing-online-abuse-and-harassment-receive-threats

https://www.vice.com/en_uk/article/bjp8ma/expert-advice-on-how-to-deal-with-online-harassment


All pictures courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and licenced for reuse.