Twits, communities and the question of the source

Twitter is a really interesting little service, one which somewhat inexplicably captured my attention and hasn’t let go of it for more than a year. (This is my account but leave your expectations in the lobby.)

One particular reason I’m interested in it is that Twitter, and similar micro-blogging services such as Jaiku seem to be a place where exposure to “unplanned and unwanted experience”,  so important to Sunstein, abounds. Often, people follow the updates of several thousand fellow Twitterers, or just check out the public timeline or Twittervision, to take a(n admittedly very limited and brief) glimpse of “what’s going on all over the world.” Given the brevity of messages and the overall format, casually reading Twitter is like catching a few words from thousands of conversations while wandering about in a busy and packed street. And if something interesting catches your ear, you immediately can investigate it further, reply to the sender of the message, or click on the link they provided.

The hunger for scoops

In this article Dainel Okrent, the public editor (readers’ representative) of The New York Times analyzes how the venerable newspaper could, for a long time, present flawed coverage of the alleged weapons of mass destruction Iraq was supposed to have in 2003. Importantly, Okrent emphasizes the role of the editors here (as opposed to the field journalists), and lists arguments such as the hunger for scoops and the “front-page syndrome.”

I find it ironic that the link originally was posted in a comment to an item by Andrew Keen, once again throwing (this time in support of yet another piece) some generalizing punches towards the internet, or rather its unreliability and uncertainty.

The cult of the amateur – part 2.

I thought it would be interesting to see what Andrew Keen’s views are on social news sites; in fact I try to dissect here the relevant passages (pp92-96) from chapter 3 – “Truth and lies” in his book I mentioned so many times already.

Keen does not distinguish between social news and social bookmarking sites. I guess you could argue for the conceptualization of putting these sites into the same basket, but I for one prefer not to, because of their different purposes and methods of use. I think that a deeper analysis should be mindful of these differences, even though the principle – aggregating and filtering previously available content – is admittedly the same in both cases.

According to Keen, this principle “cannot be relied upon to keep us informed.” (I think what he really means is that it should not be relied upon.)

When our individual intentions are left to the wisdom of the crowd, our access to information becomes narrowed, and as a result, our view of the world and our perception of truth becomes dangerously distorted. (p94)

The cult of the amateur

“Shrewdly argued,” says the New York Times about Andrew Keen’s “The Cult of the Amateur” – and I couldn’t disagree more.

To me, the book read like a big huge warning sign or exclamation mark, pointing at the perceived damage the internet is inflicting on established culture industries and – seemingly oddly – on established moral standards. Its statements are indeed eyebrow-raising and powerful, but often also rather blunt, and relying on partly or fully flawed arguments.

The principal idea of the book is this: today, anyone can use the internet as a tool of either mass or interpersonal communication, regardless of whether they posess any kind of expertise or moral responsibility. The results: an armada of at best mediocre, unreliable content, from authors of highly questionable credibility; the total disrespect for intellectual property rights (leading to the collapse of eg. the established movie and music industries); moral standards undermined; and a society where everyone is spying on everyone else (because they can and are encouraged by the – deteriorating – media).

Today’s internet is likened to an infinite number of monkeys (however good intentioned they are, they are still monkeys), typing on an infinite number of typerwriters.