Not What, But How

I still believe that the Internet is a tool. Yes, it allows us to do things differently, more quickly, or more visually, but it still allows us to do what we would have done anway.

In reading for Monday's class discussion, two of the articles --  "News & the news media in the digital age: implications for democracy," by Herbert J. Gans and "Twitter: Microphone for the masses?" by Dhiraj Murthy -- they both made me think back to a very unrelated event: My  mother's only comment to me on Facebook. Ever.

While I'm sure the goal was to think of lofty ideas about technology helping foster democracy around the world, or giving a voice to millions who would have otherwise had no way to publish their ideas, I think about how technology hasn't really eaffected (edit: it's the end of the semester, give a blogger a break) how I communicate. And then I began to ponder if it every would change how anyone communicated.

What sparked this was my mom's only post ever onto my Facebook status. She's not at all too sure about Facebook, accidentally signing up through both her work and home email addresses (but we worked that out over Christmas break one year). So to my surprise one Veteran's Day where I posted a little shout out to all my veteran friends and spouse, out of nowhere mom chimes in and says not to forget "your dad's brother, Harry, who served in the Air Force." Wow. Well, one: I never met my "dad's brother, Harry." He was killed when my father was only 12. Secondly, how in the world did my mother decide that that was the day to finally login to Facebook and start reading her newsfeed?

(Side note: I was going to track down this post and put a screen shot of it here, but with the horrid new Facebook timeline, I can't find it. So instead, you get this picture of my cat Lou. More on him later.)

So while I'm now armed with a Twitter feed where, in 140 characters, I can spread news, thoughts, ideas, and my musings, it doesn't really provide me the opportunity to do something or say something I wouldn't have said before. And while I agree that it does give a platform for people who  need to make political statements or news events known, it doesn't give them the impetus - that's what we're born with and comes from a much  more human source. Twitter doesn't give a voice as much as it gives a microphone to the masses. The same goes for Facebook. I don't post anything I wouldn't say to most friends just because I'm armed with an Internet connection, it just allows me to more easily interact with a group who is  geographically diverse.

My mother's post proved to me that our intentions and inclinations as human communicators likely won't change with the medium. No matter what story I was telling, Ma would be sure to pipe in with an element she thought I was missing, or elaborate on a family connection I didn't explain fully. Even in her one foray into Facebook Newsfeed-land, she responded as she would have if we were in the same room.

Facebook has done one thing for me -- it's helped point out my failings as a pet owner. Lou had to have a tooth pulled on Friday, something I feel that I should have noticed a few weeks ago. By looking through Facebook pictures on Friday while he was at the vet, his always-present snaggle tooth was shorter than what I noticed Thursday night, which prompted the early morning vet run. In Facebook pictures, I had evidence that I was an unobservant pet owner. Lou's fine now. He's getting his medicine, kitty "advil," and a lot of soft treats. Thank you, Facebook. Thanks for allowing us to pass along guilt - be it in the form of motherly asides or pet-owner failures.

A Lawrence by Any Other Name

Score one for Amanda.

After living with a computer-inclined person for more than 12 years now, the knowledge I had on the subject has always taken a back seat to the more capable hands of Lawrence, "Larry" the Computer Guy. It's not that I'm not technically inclined, I'm just not -as- technically inclined as some. So, as ducks go to water and I drift toward the creative, so Larry drifts toward bits of code and hardware.

But today, my friends, while armed with "Remix," by Lawrence Lessig, I found out something the "computer smart-one" didn't already know. Mind you, it was something that could be classified as trivia, but still: I knew how Apache got its name first in my household (see page 164 if I've piqued your interest). Sometimes it's the small victories that keep us going.

Let me change gears slightly from self-congratulating mode.

Never before had I thought about copyright laws for so long. It's been the big assumption of a lot of my life, professionally speaking: Make sure you have permission to run that photo, to run that story, to run that image. Granted, I was working at a newspaper, so a lot of Lessig's ideas don't necessarily apply since we were for-profit. The future I could imagine with Lessig's proposals to overhaul our current system actually inspires me. The lightbulb on the creative side of my brain lit up when reading this book -- yes, people should be able to share and create in the spirit of culture rather than the spirit of capitalism. For once in this semester, I'm actually optimistic about the effect ideas coming from this book could have.

Culture, technology, ideas -- these all grow from sharing and communicating. Innocentive knows that more minds and contributions are better than fewer, and they have proven results. Their results have actually brought good changes to the world, so why not apply that same mode of thinking to books, music, and art?


Mind you, there's still that tiny voice in the back of my brain telling me why greed and end result of profit will get in the way, but it's a smaller and softer voice than what my kindred spirit Evgeny Morosov stirred. I remember how angry and litigious Metallica became at the height of the Napster scandal in the mid-2000s. That's certainly going to happen again.

But I think to Lessig's example of Harry Potter. By letting kids (or anyone, really) take clips, artwork, etc from the books, the brand became more valuable.  It was shared as much as it was embraced by its audience. This could happen to any creative endeavor, if it's worth sharing. Yes, there will always be the issue of compensation, but I believe people will pay for the good stuff.  Misters Hammett and Hetfield, I never stole your music. And there was a good reason for that.