March 07, 2007Blogging: some thoughts on the medium
I have been reading with some interest the
recent discussion about the theological and practical direction of
SharperIron, a discussion that was provoked by my last article and its follow-up comments. I had actually been working on a rough form of this post for a while (much of it was written even before my post about SI and pop music), and this current debate gave me new motivation for finishing it up and publishing it. This post will likely be the first of a pair of articles in which I will attempt to outline my thoughts on how the medium of blogging affects theological discussion.
I wasn't alive when television was new. I wasn't even alive when color TV was new. And, other than the (very) occasional sporting event, I don't watch any TV. So anything that I say about the history of television can be safely ignored by those who know better than I.
It is my understanding that, in the early days of television, people actually tried to use the new technology as a productive tool, rather than as a mindless entertainment box. To the best of my knowledge, those people are either dead or out of work.
Most modern television is rightly condemned as insipid and mindless. In the main, network television aims for the lowest common denominator for its target demographic; the emphasis, of course, must be on
common, because the common denominator is that to which the majority of the people will be drawn, and thus what will attract the most advertising dollars.
This is not to say that the creators of many shows don't have some sort of vision or message to communicate; many are trying to say
something (the value of their message is, of course, debatable). However, those who decide what actually airs must be concerned with the all-determining bottom line; vision and message, whether virtuous or reprehensible, are only nice if they hook viewers.
A necessary result of this is that television has more than an etymological tie to
spectacle. That is to say, the very essence of television is to titillate the senses in some way. Dense, heavy dialogue is always a show-killer; the pace of a program must always drive the viewer to the next commercial interruption.
And the commercials themselves, inasmuch as they are interspersed with the actual programming, trivialize anything that might otherwise resemble serious content. My high school Bible teacher,
T. J. Klapperich, brought this point to my attention. He pointed out the absurdity of radio news, in which the statement, "Two people were shot and killed today," is regularly and unblushingly followed by, "Buy some soap and refinance your home." His point is strengthened if you think about the news coverage immediately following the September 11 attacks: it was commercial-free. While it takes a massive jolt to get their attention anymore, even pagans recognize that advertisement is not compatible with seriousness.
Now, one might argue that, in terms of shoddy content and undeserved popularity, books fare little better than television. Undoubtedly, even a quick scan of the various bestseller lists will provide a treasure trove of triviality and trash; so long as Harlequin remains in business (according to
Wikipedia, they publish 110 new romance novels a month), literature will have more than its fair share of valueless smut.
Here's the difference, though: a book can legitimately be considered great, even if it isn't a bestseller.
I don't believe that the same thing is true of television. Suppose we were to attempt to do a serious TV show. It could, perhaps, be done in an interview format, and the purpose could be to bring great thinkers on the show, people with something worthwhile to say, and to give them a platform for their ideas. And suppose further that our hypothetical show eschews frills and special effects—the whole show is designed to make the ideas the centerpiece.
I have little doubt that our show would develop something of a cult following. Perhaps we'd get enough viewers to carve out a permanent spot on PBS.
But what we'd be producing would be bad television.
I suppose there's a real-life example of the sort of thing I'm talking about: C-SPAN. It is a tool, it has the cult following, but it's also bad TV. It doesn't use the medium of television in a way that makes any sense. It will thus never draw a massive audience. It's as exciting as watching a security camera feed; compelling if something significant is happening, but numbingly mundane otherwise. C-SPAN, for whatever else it is, is bad television.
This concludes my introduction.
Here's the interesting part (I think): blogging, even theological blogging, although it shares a superficial resemblance to books, is more like television than a book in its basic appeal. Allow me to explain.
Obviously, books and blogs share the medium of the written word. But the
distinguishing feature of the blog, as a medium of communication, is the comment or meta feature. The explosive popularity of blogging is very closely tied to the user-generated content model that sites like mySpace and youTube have exploited for substantial profit.
Thus, if the unique feature of the blog is the ability to comment, the greatness of a blog must be at least partially tied to its ability to provoke followup discussion. In order for a blog to be an
excellent blog, it must generate interaction. A blog that doesn't generate comments and discussion is a bad blog, although its content might be outstanding.
(Of course, I recognize that not all blogs allow comments. One of my regular reads, James White's
Pros Apologian, fits this category. However, I concur with the assessment of
Wikipedia: "The ability for readers to leave comments in an interactive format is an important part of most early blogs.")
For instance, consider my friend
Mark Perry's blog. Admittedly, Mark's blog intentionally aims at a narrow audience (the youth group of the church to whom he ministers); however, a brief survey of his posts will be sufficient to point out that his blog doesn't have a chance of attracting a wide readership. Why? His site is almost purely devotional in its content; the posts are mostly summaries of exegetical Bible studies. Although Mark is a brilliant thinker and an engaging writer, he is not intentionally hitting hot-button discussion topics; thus, he gets no comments on the majority of his posts.
Controversy sells; in this case, controversy drives up hit counts. I've found that to be true on my own blog. Almost without exception, my most popular posts have had a specific target, whether that target be a particular theological position or a particular person or, in this most recent case, a particularly popular discussion forum.
What does this mean long-term for the future of the theological blog? Thoughtful blogs, and, perhaps to an even greater degree, thoughtful blogs of a
conservative nature, will always be fringe. By their very nature, conservative things are rarely spectactular. They aren't innovative. They aren't cutting edge.
This is the reason that the whole discussion about whether SI is "left-leaning" is a least a little misleading. Blogging
as a medium favors the novelties and frowns upon the status quo. Therefore, it seems to me that popular blogs will inevitably need to say something (or have people who say things, as in the case of the discussion forums at SI) that challenges existing understandings. Of course, it is sometimes possible that a blog is so conservative that it also challenges the status quo, inasmuch as the status quo evidences an abandonment of traditionally-held values; this is the special niche of
dissidens.
And so, the proposition for this first post is that successful blogs must challenge something in order to generate controversy and discussion. This claim does not provide us with sufficient grounds for evaluating SI in particular, but it does set the stage for my next post, in which I intend to discuss the ways in which I think SI goes about challenging the status quo, and how it tends to drive out conservative arguments.
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