I’m kicking around some ideas about Scott Karp’s post about the Web Content Conservation Movement. I like the idea, but I am having difficulties making sense of its necessity. Underlying the post is a sense that time is limited and that too much information, too many “digital echoes,” as one commenter cleverly termed the repetitive articles proliferating the web in the wake of any significant event or idea, pollutes the internet unnecessarily.
What is the function of the internet? Is it merely another way to read text? If so, it is understandably frustrating not to know how unique each of the thousands of search results are–it’s tempting to skim through them, leading to the frustrating feeling that one is not quite getting any information, in the attempt to get all the information. When a third grade student goes to the library looking for a book on butterflies, no one expects the librarian to pull every book from the shelves which contains significant repetitions of the word “butterfly;” however, that’s the way that search engines on the web function–mine data and return results.
What I’m musing about is whether links, as Karp advocates in his post, will truly solve the perceived problem. They offer the end user several illusions, but whether those are substantiated by actuality seems a bit subjective.
The first illusion is that the author has done his or her background research on the topic, and is familiar with others’ views on the topic under discussion. How many authors link to diverse opinions? How many journalists would link to an article written by a “competitive” paper? How many individuals weigh the merits of more than one location to direct their reader’s “linked” attention? A link has the ability to take the reader away from the current article, so it’s more advantageous to link to foundational material than controversial. That way, the reader returns to the original article, rather than adopting the linked text as a “better source of information.” Links can offer the illusion of ethos without providing substantial content.
The second illusion that can be offered through links is the illusion of totality. Put enough links on a page, and a reader will feel confident that all necessary perspectives, angles, and reactions are accounted for. This effectively limits their curiosity on a topic. Links can provide the illusion of totality, when, in fact, they can severly limit the reader’s perspective on the topic if they are injudiciously, or even maliciously, selected from the available coverage of a topic.
Are we conserving quantity in exchange for its quality? If quantity is the problem, who is most affected by the increasing volume of data on the internet?
Unfortunately, it seems that the most responsible individuals are the most affected–those who want to weigh the totality of perspectives on an issue, present a fair, balanced, and understandable position on a topic or idea. Because of the volume of data, being responsible ekes away at precious time. It’s understandably frustrating, but until filtering software improves, it may be a necessary evil. Reducing the volume of content would reduce one of the ways we can identify significant topics and ideas on the net–quantity of communication on a topic. We know something is relevant and interesting if a lot of people are discussing it. Translating verbal exchanges into text generates a lot of data, but it also provides a valuable digital footprint to trace the evolution of ideas, reactions, perspectives, paradigms, etc.
While it appears advantageous now to pare out repetitive communication, in the end, reinforcement by repition is what we have to work with. There’s a time and a place for Twitter, and there’s a time and a place for James Joyce’s Ulysses. It just seems short-sighted to complain that Joyce should’ve compressed his text to 50 words or less.
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