Weddings, ticks and blogs

April 25, 2002 “What do weddings, the Super Bowl, presidential inaugurations, graduation ceremonies and political rallies… have in common?” asks Virginia Postrel in today’s New York Times.

These events help solve what game theorists call the “coordination problem” that results when players do not share a common understanding of a situation, or, if they do know the same things, don’t realize that they share this understanding.

Thus the importance of the events highlighted by Postrel: each allows you to make sure that “other people know what you know and that you know that they know that you know.” The events establish a common knowledge that serves as a bedrock for future interactions. In other words, these events put everyone on the same page.

Economist Michael Suk-Young Chwe has stressed the role of public rituals in economic behavior, notes Postrel. Chwe’s theory helps explain the premium value of advertising at “common knowledge events.” Products or services like computer programs or stylish tennis shoes, whose success depends on widespread simultaneous adoption by a self-concious community, do well to advertise at the Super Bowl, while privately consumed goods (like batteries or pizzas) don’t. Postrel continues:

Conversely, advertising to large markets where audience members are unaware of each other isn’t as valuable. The lack of common knowledge may explain, for instance, why a high-traffic Web site like Yahoo still has trouble getting the sort of ad dollars a TV show with the same audience would draw. Because Yahoo users are unaware of each other and may in fact be looking at different parts of the site, Yahoo doesn’t generate common knowledge.

A community of bloggers seems a perfect “common knowledge event.” Smaller than the Super Bowl but bigger than a wedding party, bloggers refract information through a transparent public space, and each participating blogger is aware of what her peers know. I hope Postrel, an accomplished blogger, takes a stab at connecting these dots, at least on her own blog.

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Doctor Weevil recently floated a meme — what’s the best analogy for the relationship between blogger & journalist? (Via John Hiler.) Weevil offered tick/sheep, remora/shark, gadfly/horse (a nod to Socrates), and toothcleaning bird/crocodile.

In the comments section, other bloggers suggested pairs like darts/boards, referrers/webpages and jesters/kings. I particularly liked Ed Murray’s “apples/oranges.” But most of the analogies belittle blogs, so I’ll turn the relationship upside down and offer these pairs to express the blogs/journalism dualism —

piranhas/peccary

cake/crumb

knife/spoon

Lincoln/Nixon

Journalism (as promulgated in J-schools) isn’t “more real,” “older,” “more legitimate,” “bigger” or “truer” than blogging. On the contrary, it’s journalism that is the derivative, the inbred offshoot of old and durable species of human interaction — talk, gossip, information trading, story telling, oration and theatre — while blogging is the healthy descendant of the old, natural stock.

Blogging is bigger than Journalism. John Scalzi’s useful recent number crunching ignored the impact blogging has on the lives of its producers/consumers. For both writer and reader, blogging works better than Journalism because, as with all natural communication, there’s instant feedback between audience and creator, whether through log files, reactions in other blogs, or opinion aggregators like Metafilter, Blogdex and Daypop.

It is a rare publication that receives more than a handful of letters to the editor per issue. Last week, Matt Welch., 2500-visitor-a-day blogger, told me he gets 30 e-mails daily from readers. Over three decades, the tale of Woodward and Bernstein inspired hundreds of people to try journalism. In just six months, the daily example set by Glenn Reynolds has inspired hundreds of new bloggers.

Force = Mass X Acceleration. Blogs are gaining both M and A, Journalism is gaining neither.

Henry Copeland in Paris, France.

Billions of ants do it, why don’t the French?

April 16, 2002 Last November, I bought a notebook. I’m on my third now. Each notebook has 80 sheets, is 4.5 by 3.25 inches and fills up in about six or seven weeks. I last used a notebook like this when I was in fifth grade. Yes, my notebook is not searchable or easily synched with Outlook. The ink smears, the pages wrinkle, the binding frays. I love it.

Carried in my shirt pocket, the accretion of project notes, shopping lists, to-dos, random insights, bon mots and new phone numbers reminds me who I am, where I’m going, where I’ve been, what I’ve accomplished and what I’ve forgotten. Or, to paraphrase Churchill, we carry notebooks and then they carry us.

So I appreciated Malcolm Gladwell’s recent book review in the New Yorker praising paper. As Gladwell wrote, “paper facilitates a highly specialized cognitive and social process.” Although Gladwell writes not to bury paper but to praise it, he does endorse paper piling. When your spouse/parent/colleague gripes about your multilayered desk, point them to Gladwell:

Piles are living, breathing archives. Over time, they get broken down and resorted, sometimes chronologically and sometimes thematically… the messy desk is not necessarily a sign of disorganization. It may be a sign of complexity: those who deal with many unresolved ideas simultaneously cannot sort and file the papers on their desks, because they haven’t yet sorted and filed the ideas in their head.

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I had lunch two weeks ago with Christophe Ducamp, who has spent the last 18 months jumping up and down trying to inspire France to blog.

With a few exceptions like Christophe, Emmanuelle Richard, Claude Cécile and Olivier Travers, the French don’t blog. News came today that billions of ants march harmoniously from Portofino to Malaga — why can’t the French network spontaneously, which is to say without government subsidy or instruction? It may simply be a lack of network critical mass, or it may be cultural: parents and teachers steep French children in self-restraint, modesty and an aversion to praising oneself or others. (The ultimate praise is “pas mal,” which doesn’t make for good blogrolling.)

Christophe showed up on a huge green BMW motorcycle. While duffers like me drive 110KM/hr in the 10 KM of tunnels that lead under La Defense into Paris, Christophe is one of the guys who roars up behind you like a herd of elephants at 160KM/hr. He turns a rush hour into 20 minutes.

Christophe’s incredibly dynamic and metaphorically adept. Made me feel old. We talked about the rise of the “raconteur” (versus the journalist or PR scribe), “every company will have a blogger,” “all brainworkers will have blogs,” “babillage/babillard”… and most importantly, “creating the new blogging metier.” (I refer to my notebook in recalling our conversation.) I didn’t confirm this, but his rhetoric makes me I suspect Christophe read a lot of science fiction as a child. Which may be true of about 30% of bloggers. I’m in that cohort.

Christophe said he’s 40, and “my generation in France has its head in the trashcan.” I suspect the same is true in the US.

(Speaking of our generation: my wife is deeply amused by my passion for blogging… or more exactly, she’s amused by how weird her peers would think it is if she dared to tell confess. “I can’t imagine what the other mothers would think if I told them you believe in blogs,” she said. She pronounced “blogs” as though she were saying “dragons.” The fathers of our childrens’ friends are notaires, accountants, pharmaceutical execs, Alcatel salesmen, and auto engineers.)

Christophe and I had a great meal, sitting in the spring haze on the wide sidewalk outside a brasserie at the bottom of Avenue Carnot, with the Arc de Triomphe shimmering in the distance.

I ordered duck, then Christophe ordered salad. As the waiter was replying “we don’t have salad,” he was also marking a “2” in his pad beside my order. I could see this, Christophe could not. After a moment’s hesitation, Christophe ordered duck. The waiter said, “I know.”

The roasted duck leg, fries and breuilly were a perfect collision of warm and cold, fat and acid, sinew and soak. France may not yet blog, but it can serve a pleasant meal without breaking a sweat.

Henry Copeland in Paris, France

From Socrates to the Instapundit

April 13, 2002 From what bottomless well does Glenn Reynolds, a full-time law professor, draw Instapundit.com? Is Reynolds really “a giant IBM supercomputer — like the one that beat Kasparov in ’97“?

Reynolds’ CV shows he has always been an idea-geyser.

But I think Reynolds’ blogging also reflects his training as a law student and teacher.

US law schools frequently use the Socratic method to educate students. The teacher doesn’t lecture, but fires questions first at one student, then another. What are the facts? What laws are relevant? If X, what would happen? What do you think?

Like Socrates, the teacher listens closely and questions incessantly. He is a synapse connecting and redirecting ideas among the minds around him. The class’s successive articulations forge a special knowledge. Because each mind has joined in its creation, this knowledge is more potent than anything found in a textbook.

Questions about “historical jurisprudence” or “equitable relief” sound dull. But the best Socratic dialogue can sear a student’s soul. It is unforgettably intoxicating to help distill a cloud of ideas into a few drops of knowledge.

Learning the law without the Socratic dialogue is like reading a menu without eating.

Reynolds graduated in 1985 from the Yale Law School, home of some of the country’s finest Socratic law profs, and today spends his days teaching law at the University of Tennessee. (Judging from a recent photo of him listening to a student, Reynolds is a pussycat compared to Professor Kingsfield, who terrorized and inspired law students in the 1973 movie Paper Chase.)

Bloggers, Reynolds chief among them, are Socrates’ heirs. Like the Socratic dialogue, blogging can sear the soul and distill a cloud of information into a few drops of knowledge. Reading the news without blogging is like reading a menu without eating.

Henry Copeland in Budapest, Hungary

Talk is cheap and so is blogging

April 4, 2002 What is it about blogs that so confuses and concerns newspaper columnists? I think most columnists lack the experiences and conceptual categories to understand “the blog.” Like a one-year-old baby grappling with the idea of other beings, the average newspaperman scribbling about bloggers can describe “the other” only as an ersatz version of himself.

In essence, the bashers complain that blogs don’t measure up to “real” media. The Boston Globe’s recent column In the world of Web logs, talk is cheap regurgitates the list of complaints. Individual blogs don’t appeal to a broad audience. They aren’t serious or objective or edited. They contain meaningless personal details. They can be trite, verbose, incoherent and/or self-aggrandizing.

We all know that none of these traits apply to newspaper columns, ergo, blogs must be bad. In fact, many blogs are so bad, Globe columnist Alex Beam concluded, that the most they can aspire to is being “mocked in a medium that people actually read,” ie the newspaper.

The weblog community has pummeled Beam, and blogging dean Glenn Reynolds does the best job of logging the individual punches. Also, don’t miss pre-publication e-mail exchanges between Beam and Virginia Postrel and James Lileks.

Here’s my own reaction to Beam and anyone else trying to understand blogs: measuring the blog against the newspaper is a waste of time.

For a start, let’s try measuring the blog against other media, ancient and modern.

Blogs compare rather well to an older and more widely used communications tool, talking. Anyone who complains about blogging as sloppy or fruitless might want to take a tape recorder along the next evening out with friends. The next morning, listen to the incoherence, grunting and mumbling that passes for scintillating communication. Not a fair test? As any newspaper reporter can tell you, even the most practiced, coherent and committed spokespeople rewind, elipsize and armwave their way through most points.

Most human verbal communication isn’t rocket science… it’s sloppy, looping, incoherent, and prolix… which is part of its appeal.

Then there’s the telephone. In its early days, “lack of seriousness” was a frequent complaint against telecommunication. As tech scholar Andrew Odlyzko writes:

Sociability was frequently dismissed as idle gossip, and especially in the early days of the telephone, was actively discouraged. For example, a 1909 study of telephone service commissioned by the city of Chicago advocated measured rate service as a way to reduce “useless calls.” Yet the most successful communication technologies, the mail and the telephone, reached their full potential only when they embraced sociability and those “useless calls” as their goal.

So forget about dissing blogs as chit chat. Forget about blasting blogs for unnewspaperness. The new order isn’t just a negation of the old, or a recombination of its components: the new media spawns new features and experiences which are indescribable in the old language. E-mail isn’t just “electronic mail,” it is bccing, subject lines, limitless dribble, forwarded jokes, FLAMING, writing a quick note when you don’t have the energy to engage in a full dialog, sig files. SMS is far more than “short messages sent by mobile telephone,” it’s a whole culture of instant feedback, global simultaneity, crooked thumbs, endorphined beeps announcing news and stimulation.

In the same way, blogging isn’t a diary, a reading log, a common place book, a collection of newspaper articles or opinion columns. But what is it?

Rather than asking how blogs fail, let’s enumerate what blogs do right. Let’s describe why they inspire so much passion. 500,000 bloggers can’t just be vain, right?

In February, I listed timeliness, willingness to credit others, passion, blogrolling, human interest, chronology, and devotion as the characteristics that make blogs so appealing and useful for readers. But a blog’s power comes also from its benefits to the blogger.

Blogs are a great tool for brainstorming and sharing knowledge. Blogs encourage us to write and think more clearly. Blogs force us to interact (intellectually and physically) with the texts we are reading. Blogs invite others to reward our creative effort with feedback and, sometimes, appreciation. Blogs weave new social networks, introducing us to people with common passions. Blogs disseminate “micro-opinions” that are important for a small audience but would never make it onto a newspaper’s op-ed or letters page. Blogs build a shared history of experience and opinion among friends and acquaintances.

Talk is cheap and so is blogging, which is what makes both such powerful social tools. Blogging confers the bonus benefits of searchability, and temporal and spacial scalability.

But enough comparisons and descriptions. The joy of tennis can’t be described, it must be played.

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To be clear, I don’t see the Internet or blogs or e-mail or SMS or Google as “The” revolution… the revolution began in 1948 with the first stored program computer. Every year since, knowledge storage, computation and communication have become cheaper, to the point that we’ve reached nearly infinite scalability.

Society is still learning to express itself within and through these new tools. For the last half-century, we’ve been slowly evolving our habits, expectations, businesses, life-styles, needs, social interactions and self-conceptions to catch up with the computer revolution. Our social organism is being completely rewired, as it has been by previous major tech revolutions: fire, agriculture, the wheel, the printing press. This rewiring means more nerves, more synapses, more thinking, more engagement. (Although as Ben Sullivan reminds me, we may lose as many synapses as we gain.)

The “blog” is more than the sum of its conceptual constituents. And the “blogosphere” (minted by Bill Quick) is more than the sum of the individuals who blog.

To advance, it is important to call a blog a blog… not an e-journal or a virtual conversation or new journalism or new media or better-than-a-newspaper-column. Use “blog” when you talk about the new experience. And whenever possible, don’t describe blogs, do one.

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Walking around London last week, I got to do lots of browsing in bookstores. I bought Nicholson Baker’s Double Fold, a passionate documentation of the destruction (de-documentation) of newspaper archives and books inside major libraries in the US and Europe. In the latter half of the 20th century, vendors of microfilm vendors (eager to sell their tech) and librarians (eager to clear shelves) propagated the myth that newsprint was fragile and would “turn to dust” by 2000. They filmed and shredded warehouses full or newspapers and books.

In fact, the evidence in their hands proves that a well-stacked newspaper ages little after its first 50 years and may last hundreds, which is more than we can say for microfilm.

There are interesting anecdotes on every page of Baker’s book. My favorite: in the 1850s, the paper-makers’ demand for rags became so frantic that trainloads of Egyptian mummies were dug up, their shrouds shredded and turned into paper.

The scarcity of newsprint (and resultant mummy disrobing) abated when people figured out how to make paper from shredded wood. Baker notes that the great era of American newspapers (Hearst v. Pulitzer) was fueled by cheap wood-pulp newsprint. As wood-pulp technology proliferated, the price of newsprint fell from 12 cents per pound in 1870 to less than 2 cents in 1900… and the mass market for news exploded.

It wasn’t just more of the same. The subject matter became broader, elaborate color illustrations blossomed, and the tone was energized. Something new happened. Buy Baker’s book.

Henry Copeland from Paris, France