I was assigned a peculiar task by my editor: explore the concept that internet trolls are the modern-day philosophers. My initial reaction was to scoff and dismiss it as another wild goose chase. But as a devotee of gonzo, I took the challenge head-on, ready to dive into the seedy underbelly of the internet and philosophical thought.
My first stop was the philosophy department of a prestigious university. I was to meet with a group of philosophy students who had graciously agreed to share their thoughts on the matter. I arrived on campus, an alien in the land of academia, armed with nothing but a notepad, a recorder, and a flask of bourbon.
As I walked into the dimly lit room, a group of students huddled around a table looked up. They were the typical philosophy lot: a mix of scruffy beards, thick-rimmed glasses, and an air of intellectual superiority. I introduced myself and got straight to the point.
“So, trolls as modern philosophers. What do you think?” I asked, taking a swig from my flask.
They exchanged glances, and one of them, a tall guy with a Nietzsche t-shirt, spoke up. “It’s an interesting idea. Trolls, in a way, challenge societal norms and provoke thought, much like the ancient Cynics.”
The Cynics, I knew, were a group of philosophers in ancient Greece who rejected conventional desires for wealth, power, and fame, instead advocating for a life lived in accordance with nature. Their most famous member, Diogenes, was known for his sharp wit and disregard for social etiquette. He once wandered around Athens with a lantern, claiming to be looking for an honest man. He never found one.
“How so?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Well, think about it. Trolls disrupt the status quo. They force people to confront their own beliefs and biases. It’s a form of social critique, even if it’s wrapped in sarcasm and hostility,” he explained.
Another student chimed in. “The anonymity of the internet allows trolls to say things that people might be too afraid to say in person. In that sense, they’re like the court jesters of the digital age, speaking truth to power.”
I nodded, scribbling furiously in my notepad. It made a twisted kind of sense. Trolls, with their abrasive and often offensive behavior, were indeed poking at the soft underbelly of societal norms, much like the Cynics of old.
But I needed more. I needed to see these modern philosophers in action. So, I dove headfirst into the belly of the beast: the internet. I spent hours trawling through forums, social media, and comment sections, observing the trolls in their natural habitat.
One of the most infamous places was a subreddit known for its trolling. The users there were a mix of the bizarre, the offensive, and the downright absurd. I created an account and started engaging, posing questions, and provoking responses.
“What’s the point of all this?” I asked in a thread dedicated to a particularly nasty troll job.
“Point? There’s no point. That’s the point,” came the reply. It was classic cynicism, rejecting the notion that there needed to be a higher purpose to their actions. They trolled because they could, because it was a way to rebel against the sanitized, politically correct norms of modern society.
I reached out to a particularly notorious troll, who agreed to an interview under the condition of anonymity. We met in a dingy bar, the kind of place where the drinks are cheap and the conversation cheaper.
“Why do you do it?” I asked, leaning in close to hear over the din of the bar.
He shrugged. “Why not? People take themselves too seriously. It’s fun to knock them down a peg. Plus, it gets people talking, thinking. You’d be surprised how many debates start because of a good troll.”
It was the same sentiment I’d heard from the philosophy students. Disruption as a means of provoking thought. I realized that in their own twisted way, trolls were engaging in a form of modern-day cynicism, using the internet as their public square.
The connection became clearer the more I thought about it. The Cynics of ancient Greece and the trolls of today both use humor, sarcasm, and outright rudeness to challenge societal norms. They expose the absurdities of the human condition, forcing people to confront uncomfortable truths.
But there’s a darker side to this modern cynicism. While the Cynics aimed to live virtuous lives free from societal constraints, trolls often revel in the chaos they create. The anonymity of the internet can lead to a lack of accountability, resulting in harm and harassment.
I brought this up with the philosophy students during a follow-up meeting. “Is there a line that shouldn’t be crossed?”
“Absolutely,” said one student. “Cynicism can be a tool for enlightenment, but it can also be destructive. The key is intention. Are you provoking thought, or just being cruel?”
It was a fine line, one that many trolls seemed to cross without a second thought. The power of anonymity can corrupt, turning a philosophical exercise into a weapon of malice.
As I wrapped up my investigation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d only scratched the surface. Trolls as modern philosophers was an idea that seemed both ridiculous and profound. They disrupt, provoke, and challenge, much like the Cynics of old. But they also risk devolving into mere bullies, losing the philosophical edge that makes their actions meaningful.
By the end of my journey, it was clear that the idea held some truth, but with a big "if." Trolls could be the modern philosophers we need, but only if they use their antics to make us think, question norms, and reveal uncomfortable truths. Otherwise, they're just adding to the noise.
The night before my interview with the philosophy students, I decided to take a trip of a different kind. In the spirit of gonzo journalism, I gathered a few friends, and we embarked on a psychedelic journey, a pre-ritual to open our minds. We took the plunge with a few tabs of LSD, hoping to see the world through a different lens. As the colors swirled and reality bent around us, we discussed everything from the meaning of life to the absurdity of the internet.
At one point, we found ourselves laughing uncontrollably at the idea of trolls as modern philosophers. It seemed ridiculous and profound all at once. The walls of the room seemed to breathe with us as we debated the ethics of trolling and the nature of truth. By the time the trip began to wane, I felt an odd sense of clarity, a readiness to dive into the chaos of the internet with a fresh perspective.
The next day, as I walked away from the campus and logged off the forums, I saw trolls in a new light. They weren't just pests; they were potential provocateurs, like a modern Diogenes showing us our own absurdity. The internet, much like ancient Athens, is full of contradictions and moments of brilliance. Maybe, just maybe, trolls are the philosophers we deserve in this digital age.
