Anonymous Courage

Anonymous Courage

Those who are regular readers of my blog would have noted that in a mildly entertaining turn of events, a supposedly anonymous interlocutor has been responding to my recent posts with admirable enthusiasm, apparently operating under the assumption that anonymity has rendered him unrecognizable . It is a charming belief. One almost hesitates to disturb it. Because, in truth, the identity is not particularly difficult to discern. The patterns are familiar, the voice is consistent, and the performance - how shall one put this -lacks the subtlety required for a convincing disguise. And just to make the exercise even more efficient, I have already been generous enough to identify the author as male, thereby eliminating roughly half the possible candidates in one polite stroke. One imagines the remaining pool is now feeling slightly uncomfortable. Out of courtesy, I have chosen not to identify him. There is a certain generosity in allowing someone the comfort of their chosen cover. After all, if anonymity is what they need to feel safe enough to participate, one can indulge the coward. Cowardice, like any other condition, deserves a measure of understanding. But it is worth noting that anonymity is rarely as secure as it feels. The very act of speaking reveals more than the speaker intends. The digital world has done many wonderful things - connected continents, collapsed time zones, democratized information - and, quite unintentionally, handed cowards the most efficient tool they have ever had: anonymity. It is a remarkable invention when you think about it. No name, no ownership, no consequence - just a steady stream of commentary that floats in, performs its little act, and disappears before anyone can ask the obvious question: who exactly is speaking? Anonymity, in this sense, has become the preferred costume of those who have narratives but lack the courage to attach themselves to them. It allows for the full range of intellectual performance - ad hominem attacks, carefully assembled straw arguments, the occasional attempt at sophistication by using translator to use a different language - without the burden of accountability. Ownership of a narrative requires a certain willingness to stand behind it, to defend it, to live with its implications. That, as it turns out, is asking for too ambitious for people who are far more comfortable performing outrage than owning it. The irony, of course, is that anonymity is far less effective than its practitioners imagine. Voices have patterns. Language has habits. Narratives repeat themselves with surprising consistency. Context leaks through even the most carefully constructed disguise. The anonymous speaker believes he is invisible, but to those who are paying attention, the narrative is often quite clear. It is a bit like watching someone hide behind a curtain while leaving their shoes visible. The effort is noted. The success is questionable. And so the anonymous voice continues, confident in its delusion of invisibility, unaware that recognition has already occurred. It is, in its own way, a rather endearing performance. One can only assume that eventually the realization will arrive - either through self-awareness or through the gentle intervention of others - that anonymity is not a shield so much as a temporary illusion. Because in the end, narratives have a way of attaching themselves to their owners. And those who listen carefully are rarely fooled for very long. And to my "anonymous" coastal interlocutor I remind you of the song by Nancy Sinatra where she says, "These boots are made for walkin'/And that's just what they'll do/One of these days, these boots are gonna walk all over you"