I mean to give grammatical expression to the observation of cultural trends, namely the “becoming ordinary” of the internet. When capitalized, “internet” retains an otherness that cannot speak to the way in which it has become a part of daily existence in so many places in the world.
The present technological moment attracts the thoughts of a great variety of writers and scholars. Academic theologians, pastoral ministers, and theologically inclined scholars of other disciplines are among the voices one finds in the choir of reflection about the internet. These accounts, by and large, reflect the sensibilities of Gaudium et Spes in their earnest attempt to understand the modern world in the light of faith. They pay close attention to the “griefs and anxieties” engendered by our technological milieu, and find some space to laud its contribution to the “joys and hopes” of humanity. The former, however, has tended to dominate theological reflection on the topic to date, and there is surely much in present technological culture calling for critical thought. Theological critique inevitably rests upon theological assumptions, two of which I aim to explicate here. However, we would do well to remember that especially in a culture that is increasingly hostile to outward displays of religiosity, theological critique is always tempted to a certain mentality of entrenchment and defensiveness.
The two theological loci that dominate theological discussion on the topic of the internet are the church (specifically in its local form) and the Incarnation. One must be careful not to divide these two, as it is theologically inappropriate to consider one without the other: Christian ecclesiology is necessarily incarnational, and the doctrine of the Incarnation carries ecclesiological consequences. This reciprocity appears in the theological work examined below. In short, much of what has been said by theologians on this topic has focused on those aspects of the internet which relate to these doctrinal positions. Theologians have appealed to the central doctrine of the Incarnation—God made flesh in Jesus Christ—in order to critique the apparently disembodied character of virtual life. They have appealed to the centrality of the church, especially in its local form, in order to critique virtually mediated social relationships, positing the church as the ideal social institution and mediator of relationships. With so much of our daily lives being mediated virtually, theologians have sought to bring the critical power of the Christian tradition to bear on our technological culture, focusing specifically on what the Incarnation and the church mean for us and our relationship to the internet.
What follows is a discussion of five characteristics of the internet around which theological reflection has clustered: anonymity, vitriol, authority, access, and disembodiment. This five-part taxonomy is necessary but problematic. It is necessary because it reflects the major themes found in theologies of the internet to date. These five aspects provide insight into the theological stakes of the internet itself. It is problematic because none of the authors surveyed here take on all five aspects together as I do here. More often than not, two or more are considered together to make a larger point. I have chosen to separate them in order to tease out commonalities among theologies of the internet. These five aspects reflect the two doctrinal loci above. Each one has serious theological implications for both incarnational and ecclesiological reasons. Although individual theologians have given different arguments and inflections to these characteristics, all of them are grounded in the desire to promote the centrality of the embodied revelation in Jesus Christ, as well as the place of the church as the mediating institution of that revelation for communities of faith.
I focus on more general theological accounts of the internet, spending less time with those which ask questions about the role of technology in specific pastoral situations. One of the primary assumptions of this entire project is that in order to address any of these questions on the pastoral level, we must be willing to examine the theological stakes of whatever technology we find relevant to the church. The same goes for moral evaluations of our online interactions. We have become mired in discussions of pornography, personal distraction via technological gadgets, video game violence, and the like without asking deeper questions about what the internet actually is from a specifically theological point of view. We have been too eager to point out new sins and old sins-done-new that we find online without undertaking any prolonged reflection on how to interpret this technological and cultural moment within the economy of grace. We have begun the task set out in Gaudium et Spes, as we have found and continue to find the anxieties of our age. We have yet to delve deeply into the possibilities of that moment, and to look for moments of hope in the light of the gospel.
The theological work surveyed here is important and worthwhile. It demonstrates the beginning of an effort, as a discipline, to engage in the complex technological culture in which we write, study, and teach. We are only beginning to examine the important theological questions raised by our virtual life together, and the extant theological treatments of the internet demonstrate what doctrines are proving to be most important for these questions.
Anonymity
The internet affords users an unprecedented degree of anonymity for their interpersonal communication and their engagements with content which is mediated by the internet. In terms of the former, one is able to access all kinds of content—images, sounds, videos, etc.—without anyone knowing it has been accessed. One can also produce and distribute content relatively anonymously.1 Interpersonal communication of all kinds online is also done anonymously in many contexts, through the use of handles, screennames, and avatars. This anonymity can be both intentional and unintentional. Sometimes, a user intentionally hides her identity from others or to avoid attaching herself to any piece of content. Other times, the very nature of the medium itself requires that a user’s identity is hidden from others.
“Anonymity,” however, can be a misleading category here. Etymologically, anonymity refers to the state of being without a name. In the case of online interpersonal communication, therefore, most cases of “anonymity” are actually moments of pseudonymity. By appropriating this term from its traditional usage in literature, we get a better sense of what really is at stake in so-called “anonymous” exchanges: disguise. Online anonymity is not entirely about individuals operating without names per se, but about their ability to produce words and images without accountability. For example, users regularly comment on articles or videos online under their real names. Even when an individual uses his real name to post a comment online, he remains anonymous to nearly every person who reads it. The user will never meet the readers in person and though they may attempt to hold him accountable with a counter-comment, the user can simply ignore them or remove himself from the conversation with no real social consequences.
Social consequences are at the very heart of this aspect of the internet. Theorists have found anonymity one of the most important aspects of the internet because it challenges the social constructs which hold our common life together.2 Virtual life is forcing us to reconsider the categories of dialogue, debate, and social interaction itself. What such anonymous (really, pseudonymous) comments lack, however, is the accountability one might find in non-virtual settings. One might argue that the threat of embarrassment, shame, or confrontation looms in non-virtual interpersonal and public interactions, and therefore might alter individual choices. I may not say this comment or present that picture, the argument goes, in “real” life for fear of embarrassment. A classic example is the difference between clicking on a pornographic video online and going to buy a pornographic video in person. The primary difference is that in the latter, I have to risk the reaction of other human beings (the shopkeeper, the passersby) that I do not in the former. A more precise description, then, might be “facelessness,” although the term is less elegant and has less purchase than “anonymity.” Therefore, I retain the term here, fully aware of its imprecision.
This aspect of virtual life is of great interest to theologians, especially from the standpoint of moral theology. If Christian ethics is about how to live well and
