I keep coming back to the question I find myself asking more and more as I scroll through social media: Has anyone actually read the attachment before commenting?
I feel like I write about it often. The prevalence of this is just so glaring, and I often think the answer is a very big, very loud, “NO.”
We have become a sound bite society. We read the headline, maybe only the first sentence, look at the photograph, and then immediately decide what we think. Better yet, we decide what someone else must have meant, even if the information directly in front of us says otherwise. Then comes the comment.
Sometimes it is thoughtful. Sometimes it adds something useful to the conversation. Sometimes it is laced with vitriol. A lot of the time, it is obvious that the person commenting did not read the original post, much less the attached information.
‘There is a difference between disagreeing with something you have read and reacting to something you have not.‘
The flooding over the past few weeks in West Virginia offered a pretty astonishing example.
As severe weather and flooding affected communities, the Governor’s social media posts became a place for people to share information, express concern, ask questions and, quite appropriately, offer encouragement to those dealing with dangerous conditions. The state is still dealing with the aftermath of severe flooding that began earlier this summer, and the Governor announced that the State of Emergency was being extended in several counties as recovery continues.
Yet mixed among the legitimate questions and concerns were comments that seemed to have almost nothing to do with the post, like so many we all have seen.
Some people wanted to talk about roads. Others wanted to talk about taxes. Someone was angry about a completely unrelated political issue. Some like to dictate how people should vote. Someone else apparently wanted to settle an argument that had been brewing for months. There were complaints about a whole myriad of topics that made my head explode.
Then, my personal favorites, the comments that made you wonder whether the person had even looked at the photograph, much less read the words underneath it. We have all seen posts about flooding somehow turn into arguments about national politics.
A warning about dangerous weather becomes an opportunity to criticize a political opponent. A message about helping people becomes a debate over who deserves credit.
At some point, one has to wonder: What happened to reading the information before responding to it?
I understand disagreement. I spent seven terms in the Legislature. I have been on the receiving end of criticism, and I have certainly had my share of opinions. Politics is supposed to involve disagreement. Democracy requires it. What it does not require is being uninformed.
There is a difference between disagreeing with something you have read and reacting to something you have not. There is also a difference between asking a legitimate question and making an accusation based on an assumption. Those distinctions seem to be disappearing. The venom, viciousness, and hate are just dripping from some of the words.
Social media has made everyone a publisher, commentator, and instant expert. The problem is that the speed at which we can respond has outpaced the amount of time we are willing to spend understanding what we are responding to. We have traded context for convenience. We have traded curiosity for certainty.
‘We do not have to agree. We do not even have to like the person delivering the message.‘
Most troubling of all, we have begun treating being first as more important than being right. Think about how crazy that sounds. I see it all over the place.
If someone handed you a three-page document in person, you would probably read it before arguing with it. If someone gave you a letter explaining a situation, you would not read the first paragraph, throw it on the table, and announce what the other two pages said.
Yet that is essentially what we do online. We see a post. We form an opinion. We type. Sometimes we do all three in less than 30 seconds. And if the person who made the comment differs from the person reading in any school of thought, it can be an all-out attack.
There is nothing wrong with having strong opinions. There is nothing wrong with questioning elected officials. There is nothing wrong with holding government accountable. In fact, those things are important.
But accountability requires information. If we want our elected officials to be informed before making decisions, shouldn’t we hold ourselves to the same standard before making accusations?
The state’s most recent flooding should have been a reminder of what actually matters when water rises, roads close and families are worried. West Virginia has experienced devastating floods throughout its history, from the Ohio River flood of 1937 to the many catastrophic floods I remember: 1991, 2004, and 2025. Our geography makes flooding a recurring and sometimes deadly threat. People have died.
Those moments should bring out the best in us.
Neighbors checking on neighbors. People sharing accurate information. First responders doing their jobs. Utility workers working through difficult conditions. Volunteers helping families clean up and get what they need. Government officials communicating what people need to know.
Instead, we too often turn the comment section into another political battlefield. Maybe the next time we see a post from someone we disagree with, we should pause. Read the attachment. Read the entire post. Look at the facts. Ask whether the information actually says what we think it says.
Then, if we still disagree, have at it, tactfully. There is no need to go on a diatribe not even related to the original topic. That is what informed disagreement looks like.
We do not have to agree. We do not even have to like the person delivering the message. We simply ought to know what we are talking about before we start talking.
The irony is that most people would probably tell you they want more civility, more honesty, and more meaningful political discussion. Maybe the first step is remarkably simple. Maybe the lesson is to read before you react. It might not make the internet nearly as entertaining.
It might, however, make the conversation a whole lot smarter.
