Writing: December 2007 Archive Page

In Reason, David Harsanyi reviews The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet Is Killing Our Culture, by Andrew Keen.

"Can a social worker in Des Moines really be considered credible in arguing with a trained physicist over string theory?" he asks, referring to Wikipedia, the online, user created encyclopedia. "Can a car mechanic have as knowledgeable a 'POV' as that of a trained geneticist on the nature of hereditary diseases? Can we trust a religious fundamentalist to know more about the origins of mankind than a PhD in evolutionary biology?"

Well, yes and no. I, of course, have the prerogative to trust whomever I want. In the same way I once gathered my news from The National Inquirer and listened to Art Bell's late-night radio broadcasts for clues to my place in the universe, today I can ferret out similarly useless information webwide.

The more significant point, one that Keen ignores, is that the Web 2.0 explosion has provided me with something I've never had before: access to ongoing discussions between and among trained physicists, trained geneticists, and religious fundamentalists. Laymen as well as experts are now invited to sit in on these conversations. On occasion, the amateurs get it right, triggering dramatic results. Matt Drudge can announce the Monica Lewinsky scandal while Newsweek dithers about publishing it. Or a blog like Little Green Footballs can help catch Dan Rather peddling forged documents about the president's service record. Rather than undermining information, this new access has expanded users' understanding of the world.

I'd like to add just a bit to Harsanyi's defense of the conversational nature of Wikipedia. The social worker who isn't qualified to argue with a trained physicist over string theory can, of course, contribute to an article on social work. But more important, if the social worker asks questions on the string theory discussion page, or even makes bad edits in the article itself, that's a sign that at least one member of the audience doesn't understand the Wikipedia article, and it's a beacon calling for others to fix the problem, making the article more accessible to the social workers of the world, and in the process, improving it.

This is, of course, the very reason why Wikipedia is not a reliable source for college research papers (or even middle-school ones), but quite frankly nobody should turn to any encyclopedia, not even the printed encyclopedias gathering dust on the library shelves, as the final destination of any serious research. (Encyclopedias provide a general overview, putting a topic into a general context, but you won't find original research in any encyclopedia, you'll just find someone's summary of sources that a serious research should really go read first-hand.)


Because the discussion over each article happens transparently, with each mis-step and correction chronicled in the article history page, the enemy of usefulness on the internet is not the nature of the information itself, but rather the naive attitude of a reader who does not approach that information with the proper critical standpoint.  Each year when I explain to freshmen my attitude towards Wikipedia, somebody in the class is shocked to learn that anybody -- anybody -- can edit an article. Recently, one young man said, "They wouldn't let them put it on the internet if it wasn't true!"

I have high praise for the high school teacher who, instead of banning Wikipedia, instead assigns students to read the discussion page of a controversial topic, so that the students who go on to college will arrive with the idea that college is not all about hunting through textbooks or listening to lectures to find the "right answers," but rather that college is an opportunity to learn the skills necessary to succeed in an information-centered world.

A student sent me an e-mail asking for advice on how to write a letter to the editor. I found plenty of web resources that are designed to help volunteers write letters designed to get a particular message out -- that is, Citizens for the Defense of Rutebegas offer specialized tips for how to write letters that raise awareness of the plight of rutebagas.

I wanted something more general. On rhetorica.net I found a good overview of the general form of a persuasive letter.

Letters to the editor should be thought of as bits of a sustained civic conversation. You are not going to change hearts and minds with a single letter. But you might have a chance with several, well-written letters offered over time. Write for the moment. Write for the one point you're making today. Don't write as if you expect to slam-dunk the issue for all time. Ain't going to happen.

[...]

To conclude: You do not have a First Amendment right to be published in your local newspaper. You do, however, have the right to publish your own newspaper, or a blog, or you can stand on a soapbox and speechify to your heart's content.

From the Google Blog, a preview of Google's mashup of Wikipedia and About.com:

The key idea behind the knol project is to highlight authors. Books have authors' names right on the cover, news articles have bylines, scientific articles always have authors -- but somehow the web evolved without a strong standard to keep authors names highlighted. We believe that knowing who wrote what will significantly help users make better use of web content. At the heart, a knol is just a web page; we use the word "knol" as the name of the project and as an instance of an article interchangeably. It is well-organized, nicely presented, and has a distinct look and feel, but it is still just a web page. Google will provide easy-to-use tools for writing, editing, and so on, and it will provide free hosting of the content. Writers only need to write; we'll do the rest.

A knol on a particular topic is meant to be the first thing someone who searches for this topic for the first time will want to read. The goal is for knols to cover all topics, from scientific concepts, to medical information, from geographical and historical, to entertainment, from product information, to how-to-fix-it instructions. Google will not serve as an editor in any way, and will not bless any content. All editorial responsibilities and control will rest with the authors. We hope that knols will include the opinions and points of view of the authors who will put their reputation on the line. Anyone will be free to write. For many topics, there will likely be competing knols on the same subject. Competition of ideas is a good thing.

Blogged as a reference, for the next time I have to introduce students to semiotics (ytmnd.com).

Why does this happen? For some reason, perhaps the oddity of ordering milk from an online bookseller, has attracted a large number of spoof reviews -- Lovecraft, Coleridge, romances, haiku. Here's a bit of Tuscan Whole Milk flash fiction:

This milk was so good, I passed out. When I woke up 3 weeks later, apes ruled the earth. It was crazy. DRINK THIS MILK!

Via BoingBoing, which credits ytmnd.com for the meme.

After watching the children until about 2pm today, I rousted my wife from the bedroom so she could give them a late lunch. While I was fiddling with my blogging templates and sort of puttering around until it was time to go to campus (I'm volunteering to serve dinner to the students during the big "Christmas on the Hill" dinner party), I heard an unusual amount of screaming and thumping upstairs.  Then the screams turned to laughter -- well, my son was laughing, and my wife was trying not to. 

A few minutes later, my five-year-old daughter had stuffed a few toys in a plastic suitcase, and was standing at the front door in her pink coat and Hello Kitty boots, ready to run away.

I asked her where she wanted to go, suggesting that perhaps I could give her a ride.

Her eyes got wide. "You mean you want me to go?"

"Of course I don't want you to go, but you won't get very far on foot, so maybe I could drive you. Were you thinking the train station or the airport?"

While my daughter processed that, my wife explained what had happened.  Both children were misbehaving during lunch, so much so that Mommy had to call Santa. In order to make sure the elves knew who had been naughty, my wife said she would spell their names over the phone.  She spelled Carolyn's name to howls of protest; then, before she got to Peter's name, the phone started beeping to signal the line was dead.

Peter started dancing around the kitchen, saying that God saved him from punishment.

My daughter, whose sense of justice is well-developed enough to know that she and her brother were both being equally naughty, was offended.

I managed to coax her out of her coat and boots by telling her that Peter would write a letter to Santa explaining what happened and asking that he receive the same punishment as Carolyn.  Perhaps if Carolyn also wrote a letter that showed how much she appreciated Peter's selfless act, maybe Mommy and Daddy would be able to make it all work out.