This post was written in reaction to Ralf Herrmann’s semi-withdrawal from Twitter (he now uses it only to post, not read reactions) and his related post here. What Ralf does and doesn’t do on Twitter is obviously his decision, and honestly doesn’t interest me that much in itself. But I’d like to take this episode of what I perceive as a mishandling and misunderstanding of social media as a starting point to note some thoughts that I think need to be public.
Content × comments
Sometimes it’s easy to feel that bit of nostalgia. That longing back to a time when public, medial communication was held in monologues. When publishing was the end of a process: a point when the work was done – one had sorted his thoughts, written his words, presented them neatly.
Now, publishing is a beginning. And perhaps it takes a bit of gazing and good will to see that the dialogue that often ensues is not just noise that sticks to online content like dust does to aging books. What if we think, instead, of commentary as itself part of content? What if we try to see “content” in a wider, common context that we all contribute to – “content” as including the feedback, including the criticism, even the snark and even the questions. (Especially the questions.)
Social media has opened published things to truly public discourse – not just as an option, but as a reality. It has given all of us a voice; and while writing a book perhaps compares to being handed a microphone on a quiet stage (where you, alone, can take your time to make your points in public and convince others that you’re right), Twitter gives you both more and less than that: a megaphone in a potentially global speakers’ corner where others will yell back. That is its challenge and its power. Yes, sometimes the things people yell back are inane, or hurtful, or wrong. But sometimes they’re also smart, and different, and unexpected. And they can make us realize that when we open our mouths, or reach for the keyboard, we may actually not have all the answers yet.
But if we did, why would we even ever communicate?
And if we don’t listen to others, how are we to learn? – As individuals; but mostly, also, as a community.
Threads vs. rhizomes
On Twitter, community is both very present and hard to pinpoint. Yes, unlike web forums with their linear, hierarchically categorized threads, Twitter opens up a gigantic, fuzzy global space of which we all experience subjective subsets. Rather than interacting with an entire, visible conversation, we interact with any of the winding tentacles that grow from a discussion perhaps sprouted elsewhere. This is sometimes impractical and sometimes disorienting. It is also structurally more native to the internet. And more like life.
The move from a hierarchically ordered structure to a partially visible, rhizomatic, organic one is certainly challenging, and it’s scary if your goal is the sort of control that the old publishing models offered. But for those who can let go of that fear, it’s exciting and useful in many ways (and certainly rather the opposite of “retrogressive”).
Talking × listening
All this is hard. We also all have to learn how to not pick up the phone (because nobody is actually “forcing” you to do that). And if social media means that people can no longer be split neatly into Content Creators on one side, and Recipients – Commentators at best – on the other, if those roles no longer exist in their pure form, that means both sides will probably have to adapt to this new medial reality.
Many who see themselves in the old Commentator’s role need to learn how to keep civil in this discourse. Yes, Twitter appears to encourage snark and seemingly-smart one-liners over deep dialogue; yes, people with more visibility on Twitter are often not treated with respect; and no, much of this is not okay. But who is to shape the rules of this new dialogue-space, if not us? How do we shape them, if not through a discourse? And is leaving this discourse behind desirable – or even an option?
On the contrary – and this is mostly what this Ralf episode brings up for me – I think that those who like to see themselves in the old role of Content Creator need to see that listening is part of talking. This is now true more than ever, and perhaps (I hope) irrevocably so. And especially when we use these dialogical media, we can’t very well retrofit them to an older, monological model of communication: Social media is social – obviously, inherently, and beautifully so.
Hi Nina, after having read your post and that of Ralf, I wonder if your opinion would be the same if you have 10,000 followers and as many critics and trolls as he apparently had to deal with. In the end, like you say, it is a personal choice whether or not you feel comfortable investing so much time in communication. And it’s not as if Ralf will no longer learn because he’s not on Twitter, he feels that Twitter just isn’t the right medium for serious discussions. That might mean he will not reach those who do embrace Twitter but I reckon that people who are seriously interested in getting in touch with him, will find the fora he is active on.
So, yes, publishing is no longer an act of one-way communication but the start of a discussion or conversation. But there are so many ways to communicate these days that some choices have to be made, i.e. limit yourself to prevent information overload, until they find a way to hook us up directly into the ‘net and we can all become Borg and know everything, together.
Thanks for posting the blog, food for thought and it’s been ages since I last responded to a blog post; I feel so old-school ;-).