Trigger and content warnings are useful. I have previously likened them to the warnings you see before a film or on the box of a video game — a simple statement of what the media contains. In some cases, they can act more like abstracts or preambles to longer pieces of writing. For a piece of media, art or content that has been produced and is available to a larger audience, it is relatively easy and trouble-free to explain what material may cause distress or recollections of trauma. They are an effective preventive measure.
Yet, what causes trauma, anxiety or a range of other negative emotional effects in a person can be more difficult to recognize. For example, a close friend of mine suffered a severe anxiety related disorder following a discussion on the importance of family during a seminar at university. As a queer man, who at the time had a somewhat distance relationship to his own parents, the sudden realization that he may not have such a support network as he grew older caused a severe response. For another friend, it was the sharing of images from a protest — images many of us would celebrate and not think twice about sharing on social networks — that caused a response that to this day he struggles to explain. I am sure we can all think of certain topics and issues which do not fall under the standard categorizations of trigger and content warnings that cause us or our friends a severe and perhaps sometimes uncontrollable emotional response.
These topics and issues present themselves differently in dialogue between two or more people. Dialogue is fluid and meandering. It can begin with a simple proposition before traversing down several trajectories. It can slowly unravel a subject, bringing certain material to the forefront or it can rapidly change to a new subject. In such situations, the use of trigger and content warnings is ill-suited and ineffective. While we can potentially identify clear examples of trauma or anxiety inducing subjects (such as violence) and give a warning, there is a potentially endless list of subjects which could cause a response ranging from emotional discomfort to a severe breakdown.
We therefore need to think about moving past a strict categorization of subjects and contents and begin thinking about how we can actively moderate our own behaviour and dialogue. Not to enforce new structures, but to become truly reflexive in our approach to engaging with others. It is worth thinking about how feminist ethics first emerged in academia. Participants in dialogue were encouraged to think about their own and each others identities, backgrounds, experiences and positions. In doing so, they could begin to discuss topics that had previously been outside of the realm of academia and be more open about the role their own emotions play in their work. Such an approach extended to their writing and became more common place in social sciences.
We need to begin to think about how we can be more reflexive in the ways in which we communicate. This is perhaps a need to shift from moderation to modulation of our dialogue. We change our language, we think about how and why we were bringing such a subject up and we consider what and how others arrived at their position. When we are told a subject may cause distress, we can actively negotiate the terms by which we continue to discuss it or choose to cease the dialogue.
There is also a risk that by enforcing categorizations of material and language, we create a set of rules that those with power can easily abide by and use. It is perhaps worth thinking about the ways in which political candidates can use progressive language having historically (or to this day) supported policies which are regressive. More importantly, it is worth considering how such language can be used without the author or speaker ever being reflexive or open to dialogue with others.
And of course, language is fluid. Its meaning differs between subjects and changes over time. Similarly, the terms by which we discuss different subjects vary between places, people and time. While we may be able to define and categorize a set of warnings today, who is to say they will be useful in the future? Is it worth us actively affirming such structures or thinking more about our day to day behaviour and how we engage in the moment? It is perhaps worth thinking about how the parameters by which we discuss gender and sexuality have changed over the past fifty years — especially how we discuss gender today and how trans issues have increasingly emerged in popular culture. Regretfully, new forms of conservatism have also emerged — especially from those who were once at the forefront of progressive and politics in the seventies and eighties. To this day, they enforce categorizations and structures which appeared emancipatory but as time progressed became exclusionary, harmful and ultimately regressive. Such is the risk of an ‘emancipatory’ politics that is not reflexive or fluid.
I do not wish to suggest that we should rid ourselves of trigger and content warnings. Nor do I wish to undermine the motivations of those who use them. But we need to think about their limitations and the dangers of extending them to active dialogue and upholding them in ways that go beyond being a preventive measures. We risk transforming them into rigid, unmovable categorizations and structures that obstruct truly reflexive experiences.
