I’m willing to bet that most people view comment sections as toxic pits of vomit and despair. If you ever want to destroy your faith in humanity, visit the comments section of any article about any divisive topic. The stench of rotting feces is enough to drop an elephant.
It wasn’t always like this. Before the Internet, there was a public shame and humility that we all shared as a collective. If someone were to take the venom of a comments section out into the public sphere, that person would be shunned as a vulgar rage monster. When you are at a store, at a restaurant, or even walking down the street, there is a social contract that binds you to a reasonable composure. You might think some less-than-wholesome thoughts, but you never vocalize them. Only assholes and crazy people do that.
This is why I often say that the Internet is simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to humanity. It opened the floodgates of information, allowing people to self-educate beyond their tiny worlds and connect with others across the globe. But on the flip side, it also gave a megaphone to the batshit crazies who would otherwise yell at the walls of filthy basements. Over the course of a few short years, these fuckwits tainted an otherwise reliable index of information.
And so, the toxic combination of anonymity, armchair bravery, and unrestrained ignorance turned comment sections into hate-spewing platforms where the core topic is irrelevant. These days, it doesn’t even matter what the article is about. It could be a recipe for blackened catfish and the comments section will be loaded with racism, sexism, and the latest conspiracy theories. The entire point was lost. The art of conversation died. The loons took over the asylum and turned commentary into an all-caps pissing contest.
And that’s just the crazies. I haven’t even mentioned the trolls and spammers yet. These professional griefers plague the online world and are the bane of content providers. As one such provider, I spent way too much time trying to keep these fuckers in check. For every one comment I approved as relevant to the content, I denied 100 trolls, bots, and spammers (and I wish that was an exaggeration). It was a soul-sucking time sink that bottomed out the cost-benefit ratio. Thus, I decided to disabled comments across my entire network.
From a selfish standpoint, I just wanted to mitigate headaches and stop rolling my eyes every five minutes. From a practical standpoint, I realized that comments as a whole have been shifting from source content to social media. Serious readers prefer sharing articles with friends, which in turn spark reasonable discussions on their platforms of choice. And should those discussions warrant my input, then the participants will reach out to me directly. I think that’s a much better way to engage an audience (as well as maintain sanity).
Thus, I have abandoned comments, both as a reader and a writer. They are not worth the time, effort, and bottles of aspirin. As the old adage goes … don’t feed the trolls.