Posts Tagged 'incel'

Terror and nerd appeal.

When I was sixteen or so, my friends and I self-published a one-off student newspaper to protest, in the mildest and geekiest terms imaginable, censorship of our school’s annual talent show.

If I’d written the paper all by myself, it would have been far more scurrilous; but I enlisted my sober, university-bound friends, who subdued my rabble-rousingest instincts. The paper was anodyne. The administration I’d intended to provoke rightly considered the provocation beneath its notice.

Shortly afterward, I read in the local media that police were seeking a kid who’d been circulating his self-published newsletter at a local high school. Not me: this teen had printed instructions for making bombs. I recall feeling jealous that this heedless radical had succeeded in riling up the authorities where I’d failed.

To be clear, my desire for martyrdom was of the purely non-violent kind. But when a few years later and a thousand miles to the south two greasy, long-haired, trenchcoat-wearing teens pulled off one of the most famous acts of mass violence in American history, I felt an unwelcome pang of identification. Trenchcoats, long hair, and grease had been my exact look; I’d often joked with my nerdy friends about sparking an uprising against the popular kids; in social studies essays I’d quoted approvingly from New Left thinkers on the righteousness of armed revolt.

My information on the Black Panthers and the Weathermen came from books I found at the downtown library. If those books had inspired me to commit acts of terror, I suppose I might have pieced together a plan of attack by consulting the chemistry and military history sections. But to self-radicalize back then would’ve taken a lot of hard studying. Even if I’d gone to the school where that bomb-making pamphlet was passed around, even if by chance a copy had fallen into my hands, if I’d wanted an elaboration of the pamphleteer’s manifesto, or suggestions on whom to target with my bomb, there was nowhere else to go but back to the library.

Human nature hasn’t changed since the nineties. Young men are just as confused, as self-pitying, as full of indignant rage as ever. What’s changed is the technology that allows them to find a philosophical framework, and step-by-step instructions, for acting on their resentments.

***

I’d already written most of the above when I heard about Monday’s van attack in Toronto. Reading the perpetrator’s Facebook post about launching an “Incel Rebellion” to “overthrow all the Chads and Stacys”, I once again felt that unwelcome pang, having indulged in similarly absurdist sloganeering in my high school days.

I don’t mean that under different circumstances I might have wound up piloting a rental van down a crowded sidewalk – though who knows how my teenage morbidity might have evolved under the 21st century pressures of mood-altering pharmaceuticals and online immersion. But I might easily have been one of the trolls celebrating violence in what I believed to be a noble tradition of pitch-black humour. And if some mentally disturbed loner took my facetious posts for a plan of action…hey, it might as easily have been hidden messages from Taylor Swift that set the nutcase off, so my conscience is clear…

My assumption is that these acts of attention-seeking violence will only become more and more frequent. The perpetrators keep innovating cheaper and easier methods of mass destruction; every innovation, once introduced, becomes part of the permanent repertoire. If rental truck attacks continue, new restrictions will be placed on renting vehicles, and the attention-seekers will switch to something else.

Their professed motivations will mutate along similar lines. I doubt the cause of Involuntary Celibacy will ever really take off, because it asks its martyrs to immortalize their sexual hopelessness. To appeal to rage-filled nerds, a cause needs to sublimate that rage into something cool, sexy, and dangerous.

Some causes by definition have limited appeal. In western countries the allure of Islamic extremism was never going to extend much beyond the relatively tiny Muslim community; it’s been possible, barely, for authorities to contain it by keeping tabs on every Muslim who ever shopped online for a pressure cooker. By contrast, white nationalism and (in the United States) black radicalism have millions upon millions of potential recruits: far too many to monitor.

(Black radical terrorism hasn’t received much attention because we don’t really have a mental category for it yet, despite the surge of BLM-inspired attacks on cops a couple years back. But black culture is basically a machine for generating cool, sexy, and dangerous memes. The limiting factor is that any persuasive black radical meme will immediately be appropriated, and rendered uncool, by non-blacks.)

As yet, white nationalism hasn’t evolved a rhetoric as irresistible to white losers as Islamist propaganda has proven to be to Muslim losers. But there are tens of thousands of alt-right geeks out there, larkily churning out memes; eventually they might strike on the secret formula. I expect I’ll recognize it when it arrives: it will be something I would have found cool, sexy, and dangerous, as a sixteen-year-old loser.

M.

In a similar vein of self-critical nostalgia, in March I shared the story of my cowardly interaction with a high school anti-Semite; in February I drew an unflattering parallel between my youthful stint as an indie newspaper editor and my current life as an obscure blogger; and way back in 2003 I gave a full account of that newspaper, “my lamest act of teenage rebellion”. (It appears that at age 27, embarrassingly, I still harboured a grudge against my high school vice-principal.)

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