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Blogging, ethics, and moolah

03.11.03 | 15 Comments

Earlier I talked about the conflicts between two pro-globalization movements: globalization-from-above and globalization-from-below. The blogosphere is clearly a protagonist in the globalization-from-below movement. With Google buying Blogger and Dr. Pepper starting a blog, all this could change, of course.

Now that blogging is big time, bloggers are thinking more about what blogging “means.” The Happy Tutor over at Wealth Bondage pointed me to the heart of a blogging symposium on the ethics of blogging, a conversation I had only slightly overhead previously. After reading several excellent posts, the crux of the debate seems to be the commodification of blogging and what that says about questions of authenticity. Is the blogger for real or a poser?

Tom Coates leads a thorough discussion at PlasticBag.org. Blogging is usually free or cheap. But, says Tom, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch, and you pay with the soul of your site – the place you’ve carved out as a place of personal expression becomes yet another platform to sell rich teenagers Nike shoes…” The blogosphere is not free; there are dozens of hidden costs. The only thing in this world that does come perfectly free is sunlight (with a nod to Georges Bataille). And even then you have to be careful about too much of a good thing.

Blogs, democracy, and rules

The Happy Tutor summarizes Tom’s post as thus: “So how do we go from the aesthetics [of blogging] to politics and democracy?” In my mind, though, you can’t easily separate aesthetics from politics. It’s precisely the blosphere’s aethetics–in particular the links, trackbacks, and comments–that align it with the globalization-from-below movement. Like any other “underground movement,” it can and will be commodified. The only question is to what extent. And here we have a choice.

When I moved to Atlanta a couple or three years ago, a cell phone ad featured Martin Luther King, Jr. giving his “I have a dream speech.” Previously I had been under the impression that MLK’s image had not been overly commodified solely out of respect. In Atlanta I learned that it had as much to do with the King family zealously claiming MLK’s persona as its own commodity. It was King’s son who sold permission to use King’s image to the cell phone company. And since then his son has all but disappeared from public life; last I heard, he was “promoted” out of the SCLC. And the King family was publicly chastised in the press for his tacky mistake.

So you can fight back and be successful. But no one person did it: it was the movement as a whole. The same sort of collective decisions (read, “democracy”) will need to be made by the blogging community.

Rebecca’s Pocket provides a helpful set of guidelines for ethical blogging. Drawing heavily on journalistic ethics, Rebecca argues for full disclosure of conflicts of interest and questionable sources. All well and good.

It’s her fourth item that makes me uncomfortable: “Write each entry as if it could not be changed: add to, but do not rewrite, delete, any entry.” Rules of thumb are helpful as just that: rules of thumb. Otherwise, you are venturing into the realm of deonotological, or duty-based, ethics. The problem with deontology is that it’s too rigid to survive in the real world, where things have a nasty habit of not doing as they’re told. Weblogs–by definition–constantly change. Why should individual entries be any different? The case needs to be made.

Rebecca’s approach itself is quite open to real world ambiguity: she is not a hard ass about her proposed guidelines. My concern is that someone else will be. Rebecca’s list is excellent, but any move to make blogs more journalism-like gives me the heeby-jeebies. Facts are great if you’ve got them. But I’m not personally interested in collecting either troll dolls or facts. What will the blogosphere do when the “fact police” start knocking on our doors, demanding fact checkers for our blogs? Web publishing is a different medium than print publishing. It should have a different ethic of attribution too.

Serving blog or mammon?

The Market™ is the amorphous keystone of the currently ascendent global worldview. It sees all, it moves all, it rewards and punishes all. You know what it is, but you can’t nail it down. How will The Market’s™ ideology of globalization-from-above go at gaining control of the blogosphere? Charles Murtaugh provides some clues.

A Yale alum, Murtaugh wonders about labor strife at his alma mater. He links to Corey Robin’s thoughts on the matter:

A year later, graduate students went on strike. I did, too — reluctantly. But on the picket line, something happened to me. As we marched around the freshman quad, an undergraduate yelled out his dorm window, “Get back to work.” For the first time in my life, I felt like a maid. And suddenly I realized that this was how other workers at Yale — in the dining halls, the labs, the offices — routinely felt… Where do they [students] learn such imperial disregard, talking to teachers — and dishwashers and janitors — as if they were personal servants?

With another link, Murtaugh notes that another Yale alum found the premises much cleaner when “the help” was on strike and students took it upon themselves to clean. Murtaugh summarizes his fellow alum’s ironic elitism: “Stupid fuckin’ working class, who needs ’em?” If Yale students took to cleaning as an act of solidarity with striking workers, the irony piles up still more.

Any “takeover” of the blogosphere will be subtle and gradual. The change will come first from individual bloggers’ practices and attitutudes. If there’s a critical mass of like-minded commodified bloggers, “peer pressure” alone could be enough to force the change. Hyped invasions like Dr. Pepper’s are just diversionary tactics.

Global commons or global agora?

Two possible metaphors for the burgeoning blogosphere are “the commons” and “the agora.” If it’s “the commons,” our problems will be along the line of what Jedediah Purdy and others have characterized as the tragedy of the commons. Any New England commons (before they became today’s quaint parks) were public land, available for any purpose whatsoever. Since anyone can use the commons to graze their cattle and provide wood for their stoves, everyone is tempted to take more from the commons than they really need, out of fear that someone else might be taking more than their fair share. Once people start pre-emptively hoarding the resources of the commons, a self-fulfilling prophecy comes into play. Indeed, the commons’ resources are shrinking, and the rush to get yours only accelerates the depletion.

If it’s the agora, we’re dealing with more of a public or farmer’s market. For the ancient Greeks, the agora was where you went to shop, gossip, preach, recreate, and politic. One activity can easily morph into another; in fact, it may be hard to divide them up into neat categories. The key problems for the agora are conflicts between commercial and non-commercial activities and setting appropriate limits to the agora. Which is more important: skateboarding or relaxing lunches for executives? What if the merchants start selling their wares inside the temple court? What if the noise is keeping me up at night?

To get find out which metaphor is more appropriate, bloggers will have to come up with answers to the following questions: Is the blogosphere a place where you can set up shop? What kind of a shop? Can you set up a kiosk? Can you build a superstore? Are you allowed to collect money from a friend? Do you need to seek prior approval? From who? Who enforces these decisions?

It’s been said that where there’s no conflict there’s no interest. There is no pure altruism this side of God, and there needn’t be. The only reason for positing pure altruism is so you can either (a) beat yourself up for not quite getting there or (b) beat someone else up for not quite getting there. Unless someone’s claiming pure altruism on their own behalf, I can’t see how either “beating up” critique is helpful.

Likewise, there is no pure authenticity. Authenticity can easily be manufactured, leaving us with few desirable alternatives. All good bloggers are flaneurs, enjoying the internet equivalent of “people watching” as we stroll about town. Any observations we make about who is real and who is posing are entirely our own.

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