At the risk of bad taste, it occurs to me that Baby P and the BNP have several things in common. They both consist of the same number of syllables, share first and last letters, and have the word ‘evil’ used in relation to them most days of the week.

 

But where the internet is concerned, these subjects highlight two opposite ends of the spectrum. One of them has exposed the uncontrollable pitfalls of web 2.0, while the other has exposed itself to the net’s democratic triumphs.

 

Over the past couple of weeks, the horrifying story of Baby P has permeated everything from tabloid headlines to chat shows, and web traffic has been no different.

 

But it’s that ‘traffic’ element that separates the internet from the rest. Whereas TV and newspapers mainly act as engines that drive such stories on, web 2.0 goes beyond this by also offering an outlet for whatever a story provokes.

 

While tabloids busied themselves prising ever more sickening details from the tragedy, this networked Britain of ours, stoked with moral outrage, sought to vent that fury with a vigilante quest to publish the names of Baby P’s killers.

 

In doing so those responsible broke a controversial but crucial court order, and thus undermined the very legal system they slated for protecting child killers.

 

Information, once controlled even in the fullest democracy by a select few, is now the weapon of the masses. The law is trampled in the face of this lawless cyberspace; as the Telegraph’s Shane Richmond pointed out, current legislation will not survive web 2.0 – and many in media agree.

 

The terrifying point is: what law comes in its place? In light of such cases as the above, a full and open net democracy seems unworkable, leaving the alternative of a fascist web state, where IP addresses are ruthlessly hunted down until every court order-breaking blogger is locked up for long enough to deter even the angriest of Sun readers.

 

Yet while it may be ushering in fascism with one hand, the web is stamping on its head with the other.

 

BNP councillor Richard Barnbrook caused something of a stir a few months ago when he began blogging on My Telegraph – that paper’s pioneering attempt to make its readers feel younger.

 

The Guardian was particularly scathing in its reaction, but missed the mark entirely – ironically sounding more like the reactionary stereotype of the Telegraph we know and love.

 

The BNP, as with the Nazis before them, are at their most dangerous when they have control over information, able to keep those niggling bits of racism in their agenda quiet while championing their patriotic wholesomeness.

 

By exposing his agenda to the networked masses, Barnbrook exposed the BNP to the other, better side of web democracy: enlightened fascist-bashing.

 

Amidst the two-way and very congested road of 2.0, Barnbrook’s rhetoric is either crowded out or occasionally subject to being pulled apart. His ridiculous voice is silenced, save for the sporadic flushing sound whenever he receives a comment.

 

If the powers that be tried to crush the sort of networking, however misguided, that led to the Baby P names being published, then they would also crush our ability to steamroll the worst facets of society like Barnbrook and his BNP.

 

The internet is now too large, too unchained, and too powerful to tame. Regrettably then, it must be the system that bends to the people.

 

How? Good question.