Hijacked Breakups

Cross-posted by request from the D/s Academy blog. Thanks, Alisha!

We’ve all seen it. A D/s couple are struggling or breaking up, there’s a question of abuse, people jump in to rescue the abusee and drive the abuser outta here. Looks righteous. But wait a minute, what’s really happening? Could this be hurting the very couple it’s meant to protect?

To talk about this phenomenon we need to look at a couple of things: the culture of fear, and the nature of proof. It has been said that “fear is the adrenaline of our time,” and in your authors’ experience this is becoming ever more true. Both RL and SL have developed a culture of fear, encouraged in RL by the media and in SL by the endless discussions of red flags, predators, abusers and sociopaths. Fear sells even better than sex. And nothing proves the need for fear better than finding a predator in our midst.

How do we prove our predators? In RL there is forensics. In SL there is. . . hearsay. In your authors’ experience, here in SL it is almost impossible to prove or disprove anything. People can and do easily escape responsibility for their actions. The dark flip side is that people can easily be held responsible for actions they did not do, and have little to no recourse.

In SL, the only fact that’s knowable about a breakup is the observation that the couple, at least in those avatars, is no longer together. It is compassionate and reasonable to assume that both parties to the breakup are suffering. But we have all seen it go further than that. Allegations of misconduct or abuse are made, either by the principles or by someone listening to their stories. Vague “proofs” may be presented. Listeners form conclusions based on indirect subjective evidence (tone of voice, consistence of story etc.) A set of unprovable allegations magically transforms into actionable facts in the minds of friends and strangers alike. A community of caring individuals sprouts pitchforks and torches and becomes a mob.

Why does this happen? There is a great deal of historical precedent in RL, and your authors would argue that the SL drivers are no different. The uncomfortable energy of fear can be discharged by locating and attacking an enemy “out there.” A mob supports its members to take emotion-based action without critical thought, and shields individuals from consequence. As witnessed by such TV programs as Jerry Springer, other people’s problems can be enjoyed as a blood sport. For Dom/mes, there can be the ego boost of dragon slaying, and the validation of being identified as on the Good Dom/me side of the fence. For subs, there may be reliving of a past victim role through another’s experience, projecting their own past feelings into the current situation. For both Dom/mes and subs, there can be the transference of past wrongs in their histories and the opportunity to get revenge by proxy.

The overt intention of the mob is to “help,” but is this helpful to our hurting community members? Much is made in D/s of the healing power of being seen. Many of us bring RL traumas and instabilities to our SL relationships, hidden behind the sparkle of our avatars. Pain is individual, its roots and depth unknowable in SL. Your authors hold that what most fracturing couples need is cooler heads, compassion, tolerance, eventual resolution, and in some cases solid pressure for RL help. The mob, however, is no longer about the individuals, nor about their reality. The mob needs the couple’s pain! It perpetuates and feeds upon suffering, perceived injustice, the need for intervention; the righteous glow achieved by condemning others, rescuing victims and slaying dragons.

Yes, there ARE predators and sociopaths out there, drawn to SL and other online venues by the lack of consequence and the limits of proof. There is abuse, people who successfully trap others in mind games or physical situations. Prudence and awareness are essential when engaging one’s RL self on any level in SL.

That said, your authors would argue that the vast majority of relationship breakups are just breakups, between people who like all of us are struggling with their own demons and having ordinary problems. Around their individual nidus of personal pain the community crystallizes its own agenda. Like sin and the Yom Kippur goat, the fears of the community are placed upon the heads of the couple, and a wilderness of polarization and projection opens around them at the moment when each of them likely most needs a sane and caring shelter.

We like to think we are rallying to support each other, to help our hurting friends heal, but who does this dynamic described really serve? What needs are actually being met? And the most disturbing question: in such situations could we in the community end up being the very thing we fear: Predators?!

your authors are Ryn Hax and Meadow Theas