Walking before crawling Oct 30
A few years ago my grandparents got the internet. This was perhaps one of the most traumatic events to happen to them since Rover went into administration.
Being the eldest grandson I was put in charge of explaining the basics to them, which was the first mistake of many. I forgot that all the ingrained nuances of computer use were entirely Greek to them - when I’d suggest opening a new window they would reply that the study was chilly enough as it was.
I hold my hands up and admit to being the world’s worst teacher, and there was certainly no fault on my grandfolks’ side. Besides, it never bothered me that they didn’t know how to do anything too fancy because, I reasoned, they weren’t interested in doing anything too fancy anyway – what is my granddad going to do with Photoshop?
My relatives were done no favours by me going too quickly for them in my narrow-minded way, and it was with this point in mind that I watched rural Welsh types putting together their own little short films.
Immediately, I was impressed. The BBC’s Capture Wales workshops seemed like a noble entreprise producing good results. But then the anecdote about mice being physically put on screens reared its head, and I thought about opening windows.
If, as was implied, the majority of those people who are coming to these workshops are fairly computer illiterate, is teaching them how to make a two-minute film really the most constructive thing to do?
There are fundamental issues to be overcome beforehand, straightforward introductions not just to the joys of Web 2.0 but to computing full-stop. I am all for a nation of multimedia package experts, but first things first - incredibly, the Welsh Assembly has got the right idea.
Moreover, what are people going to do with these new Hollywood skills? I’m guessing the hope is that the minority of participants who do own recording equipment and video editing software will take their abilities further.
But if they haven’t learnt about what they can do with their material, whether it be posting on YouTube or creating slideshows etc, then how much further can they go?
A good point was made in the lecture that so many jobs now require basic computer skills, yet that important point seemed to be undermined by the positive, enjoyable but relatively useless example of giving people a day with a camera.
Bring up the ram Oct 30
There is nothing quite as frightening as being in the crossfire of impetuous youth on one side and shaggy-haired wisdom on the other.
Such was the situation I found myself in as our third Online lecture drew to its interactive close, when Tim, sitting directly in front of me, took exception to exceptional impertinence a few rows back.
The aggressor, as far as I recall, suggested that all this new-fangled technology gumph was being rammed down our throats, and he didn’t seem particularly pleased by it all.
Provoked beyond restraint, Mr Holmes turned, mildly incredulous, and asked quite how exactly anything had been rammed anywhere.
If the student involved had put their point across with a little more grace and a little less juvenility I might have rallied to his side, recalling my own experiences.
I remember a few years ago suddenly not having a life for a few months. I had been going about my business in the same manner as before, yet within a few short weeks I seemed to stop getting invites to parties, or being told about cinema trips with mates, etc. Hugely upsetting, it was.
Then one day someone was good enough to explain why this had happened. When I say explain, I mean this: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU’RE NOT ON FACEBOOK?!”
Being petrified of the unknown, I didn’t immediately heed the call, despite realising that people’s entire social calendar was now being arranged on this bookface thing. But after a few days of outrageous abuse and cajoling from friends, I submitted and jumped into social networking. And I don’t think such pressure is uncommon.
This may sound like me agreeing with he who spoke out against the ram-happy world of technology (and Tim) the other day. But it isn’t.
Thing is, there’s a big difference between feeling overwhelmed by this emerging geekdom and being stubbornly against it.
I was bowled over by the implications, not least whether I’d ever see my friends again, when I joined Facebook, sure. And I’m certainly struggling to get my tiny brain around Twitter and Flickr and all these other rhyming adventures.
But once I got my deer-eyes out of the headlights I began to find my own uses for Facebook until reaching the point when, if anything, I was overwhelming Facebook rather than the other way around.
Yes it’s true that there is a degree of throat-ramming going on, but that is simply the world we live in: TV, internet, advertising, networking, it all permeates our day-to-day lives whether we like, or even realise it or not.
The way to make peace with it all is to sift through the rubbish and mould new platforms and mediums in the way you want them.
Citizens Advice Oct 22
Our guest lecturer last week did a fine job of showing how millions of people will do our careers for free, and I applaud his in-depth albeit top-secret endeavours.
But despite the colourful wonder of those pie charts and the fierce competition of the percentage quiz, it was the populist finale of our session that stayed with me throughout the week.
Perhaps it’s because I’m a gigantic fan of Jews spoofing news, or maybe because my shallow brain responds more eagerly to television than spreadsheet-based graphics.
Either way, the Daily Show clip of Jon Stewart dismantling CCN’s iReport highlighted the crucial division between two types of citizen journalism.
Though not directly targeted by Stewart, it is the free-for-all deregulation of iReport that opens it up to this abuse.
Imagine such satire being aimed at the monitored citizen press published on the BBC’s site; it just wouldn’t have carried the same punch. Since such moderated channels are still dictated by professionals, lampooning them would be as much a swipe at ‘us’ as at ‘them’.
But in fairness to iReport, though its unfiltered approach will inevitably lead to criticism, it is the rest of us - journalists and public alike - that are ultimately in charge of the site’s effect on the world. Without moderation, is iReport any more than a branded message board with newsworthy pretensions? Just because Arsenal’s ground is called the Emirates doesn’t mean the stadium can fly.
The recent Steve Jobs episode highlights this quite clearly. Yes it was a pretty appalling fib regardless of the circumstances. But if it had been written on a geek forum or some Apple-hating rumour mill no one would have taken a blind bit of notice.
As webby consumers it’s up to us to treat what we consume with the appropriate pinch of salt, as paidContent rationally argues. It’s not as if iReport makes any secret of its dubious potential – search it on Google and the first words that appear are ‘Unedited. Unfiltered’ for crying out loud.
But I suppose it’s like celebrity endorsements: stick ‘CNN’ on the home page of something and somehow it becomes more credible.
Identity Crisis Sept 24
How disappointing. Just when you think you’re becoming a scholar rather than a pupil, some horrifying ghost of educations past pops up and beats all lofty pretence out of you.
The last time I had my school photo taken I had a face like an embarrassed moon, and I didn’t seem to be alone today in still being a little camera-shy. But the overriding mood as we queued up for our postgraduate snap seemed to be one of mild suspicion rather than bashfulness.
Not only were we having our photos taken for a second time following a ‘technical problem’, but we had just been hearing as a lecture footnote about how identity theft is a big problem and we should be on guard as to what intimate info we reveal to the web.
It was a point that did seem to set minds racing and tongues wagging. I for one have, like a pillock, given my date of birth hundreds of time to who knows who, and tend to have the same password for every one of my online accounts. Oops, forget I said that.
Luckily I’ve rarely been a victim of crime, administrational or otherwise. There was, however, a brief episode a few years ago.
Returning from a holiday in Holland, I checked my bank statement and noticed two curious withdrawals from the previous week, namely a good few hundred Euros from a bank in Utrecht. I’d been in Amsterdam all week, and although my memory was understandably a little blurred, I was sure I’d been nowhere near Utrecht, 40-odd miles south of the Dutch capital.
No big deal, I assumed. So I called my bank, got hold of a pleasant lady named Julie, began explaining what had happened, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly until I said this: “I was thinking it might be some kind of fraud, or something.”
As soon as I said the f-word, the mood shifted. What followed can only be described as the telephonic equivilant of saying ‘bomb’ at a check-in desk. Julie sprang to life and with something of an edgy gravitas put me through to a place called the ‘Serious Fraud Protection Office’. It was, clearly, serious.
After 15 minutes filled with all manner of security and procedural questions, a man named Simon told me the situation would be investigated and I’d receive word on the outcome within 28 days, finishing with the sentence: “Until then, hold tight… Thanks for your time, Mr Rennison.” So I held on tightly.
Clearly then, identity fraud in all its guises is taken very seriously, and rightly so. But is all this panic overblown, particularly when it comes to the online risk? According to the UK’s Fraud Prevention Service, the CIFAS, although some forms of fraud are rising, victims of identity fraud fell by around 15% in the first half of this year compared with last.
For me, the far more intriguing issue to have been raised so far on this course is not that of online crime against identities, but the identities behind online crime.
The legal abyss of the user-driven worldwide web sounds like one of the biggest challenges awaiting us post-postgrad. Joe Bloggs and his keyboard have the power to upend, discuss and defame everything from court cases to celebrity marriages, with the minimum of judicial risk. And of course, much of the consuming public want defamation; they want contempt; they want what’s naughty.
I’m guessing then the problem for journalists is that as an employee with a desk and a byline, we are more easily open to prosecution, and will thus lack the freedom to produce such juicy stories or comments. Ethically, that’s great. Commercially, it could be damaging.
Instead of the public looking to professionals for their news and gossip, they can turn to the anonymous citizen journo who’s able to spill all the beans, however illicit or illegal they may be.
I don’t see how we can fight fire with fire by trying to bend the rules or strive for loopholes; that would leave us with a world of cutthroat journalistic anarchy.
But I’d like to think that as long as we have quality, we’ll be just fine. As sensational as it can be, faceless journalism can’t engage in the same way. Many consumers want to be able to see a byline and know that, even if we can’t tell them everything, what we do tell is reliable, honest, top banana stuff. Above all, quality is something everyone can identify with.
