Anonymity breeds cruelty, so put your name to your words

Opinion

Hell hath no fury like a fan whose favourite artist has been scorned.

The critics weighing in on Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department and accompanying The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology — a sprawling 31-song double album that dropped last Friday — are finding that out anew this week as Swifties tend to take umbrage with anything less than a rave.

And the reviews of TTPD haven’t been all raves. In fact, the critical response has been decidedly mixed, though one review in particular stands out: the 3.6-out-of-10 review from Paste, an American digital publication.

It’s positively scathing, but that’s not why it’s an outlier. The review is anonymous.

“Editor’s Note: There is no byline on this review due to how, in 2019 when Paste reviewed Lover, the writer was sent threats of violence from readers who disagreed with the work,” the publication posted on X.

“We care more about the safety of our staff than a name attached to an article.”

Sorry, but attaching your name to your opinion is the job.

Obviously threats of violence are not OK, and it’s true that the way online threats are dealt with leaves much to be desired. But there are many reasons publications do not generally post reviews or columns or any other piece with an opinion without a byline, and it’s not just so we writerly types can have the ego rush of having our names in print.

Bylines are about accountability. They let you, the reader, know that this opinion was written by a real person with a perspective. Bylines are about integrity. They let you, the reader, know that this person stands by their words and is willing to put themselves out there.

This is one of the ways by which we build trust and credibility with you. Even if you disagree with us. Maybe especially if you disagree with us.

Can this be scary? Of course. Even the thickest hides among us are not impervious to the feeling you get when you have to face your inbox after publishing something spicy. And when you’re a reforming people pleaser, it’s especially scary. Like the meme, I sometimes feel like emailing back a photo of a watery-eyed baby lamb and captioning it “This is who you’re yelling at right now.”

Music fans, in particular, are a special breed. To criticize the music they love is to criticize who they are as a person, so yoked are taste and identity. Back when I was still reviewing concerts, someone once phoned me (Phoned me! On the phone!) the next day to yell at me about giving Keith Urban 3.5 stars which, frankly, was already a half-star too many.

This is where the critic can perhaps feel some empathy, however. Culture writers and columnists — or writers whose personality is not only allowed but expected to bleed through onto the page — also know what it’s like to have what they do be inextricably linked with who they are, which is why criticism of our work, too, can feel personal, even when it’s about the work.

So, the most impassioned Swifties are not just defending a billionaire pop star. They are defending themselves.

But the people who take the time to call or email me about my work are able to do so because my name is on it. They know who I am and I, more often than not, know who they are because they contact me using their name. We’re able to have an actual conversation. Sometimes it’s productive. Sometimes it’s not. But the whole enterprise is facilitated by being able to connect directly, person to person. Or indirectly via letters to the editor, which, I’ll note, are not anonymous, either.

What makes comment sections such unproductive cesspools of vitriol is the fact that, so often, people are emboldened by anonymity to be terrible to each other. It’s the anonymity, ironically, that makes things personal. When people have to sign their names, the crticism tends to stick to being about “the work” — though I’ve been surprised at what people elect to send from a company email address.

Some people won’t “get” an album. Some people won’t “get” a review — especially those looking for consensus where none will exist, or to have their own opinions, tastes and preferences reflected perfectly back to them.

But no one, not even your fave, is beyond criticism. And no criticism is beyond criticism, either. After all, what we do is an art, too, one that can be done well or poorly, depending on the eye of the beholder. Either way, we’re all just out here, making our contributions to the world.

It’s brave to put yourself out there. To serve up the softest parts of yourself to people who are sometimes eagerly wielding knives. To own it. To put your name on it.

Whether you like how she does it or not, that’s what Swift does.

jen.zoratti@winnipegfreepress.com