The denizens of Blogaria are in an uproar about whether the blogger deserves her wages. Doc surveys the goings-on and approves the sudden widespread interest in the ethics of blogging. Dorothea and Mark speak in defense of principled amateurism; Shelley speaks as a consummate professional; Steve happily pursues commercial non-viability, David takes a solemn oath of unprofessional conduct, Mitch added several insightful retrospections, and mountains of us in many different communities are struggling to parse the dos and don’ts in some ethically-intelligible way.
It’s easy to say there’s something dubious about a gazillionaire corporation buying off bloggers for a weekend’s mess of pottage. That, most of us can denoucnce comfortably. But some puzzles persist in the more general discussion of blogging and bucks.
For instance: I preach the gospel week after week, arguably (at least within my particular ideological/theological community) a more important function than blogging—but I unashamedly accept money for preaching. And, again granting the premises of the whole operation, the people who pay me to preach have a tremendous stake in my capacity to compose a sermon uninfluenced by the temptation to curry favor with my employers (or “patrons,” if you prefer). I put a lot of effort into preaching, and I’m pretty good at it. Should I decline payment on principle?
If I’m about as good a blogger as I am a preacher, should I decline payment for the hours I put into composing blogs?
Here’s another conundrum for you: I teach to feed my family and, more importantly, to pay the broadband bill. But teaching (as the Epistle of James notes) carries a tremendous responsibility, since a teacher stands accountable both for her own follies and for the follies she transmits to her students. Is my pedagogical compass thrown off by my being paid? If so, does anyone know where I can submit my pedagogical compass to more effective distortion? I have a college tuition bill to pay.
Doc is an Official Journalist, as is Tom. David must be pretty nearly official, if not as unimpeachably official as others; certainly he appears in the Globe and in Darwin. Should professional journalists not blog (because they’re professionals), leaving the field clear for the unpaid bloggers? Doc gets paid to give talks; David and Chris get paid to give talks. Is David more enthusiastic about IBM because they sent him to China? Not so far as I’ve been able to tell.
Here’s another riddle: I happen to be nuts about Apple computers; have been for years. I’m probably more likely to say foolish, biased things in favor of Apple—without their having laid a cent on the table in front of me—than I would be to flatter someone who wanted me to shill for his new digital identity enterprise solution (I’m; not sure what an “enterprise solution” is, but it sounds like the kind of thing a Software Corp. would try to sell).
I do not agree with Dr. Johnson that “no man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.” Extraordinary writers pour their brilliant gifts into words for our delight and instruction all the time, without receiving a cent for their ardor. (Academic writing can be a lot like that, much of the time—sigh.)
Okay: I should take stock.
In this context, Mitch makes a nice point about the relative importance of trust and brands. He suggests that the nineties’ emphasis on brand-building misses the point that the vital quality is trust. But isn’t it still more complicated? May I not trust the Subaru brand, precisely because their autos show evidence of being highly reliable?
But Mitch’s point holds insofar as he means that a recognizable brand isn’t worth much if it’s synonymous with “untrustworthy.” I will not throw a stone at any particular brand, nor kick one while it’s under indictment for fraudulent business practices, but at that point a recognizable brand might be the last thing you want.
I trust Doc. I try to live and write in ways that make it sensible for you to trust me. I don’t apologize for being paid, nor do I expect others to do without in order to preserve a problematic dispassion from their topics. But—to get us back round to the presenting symptom—if a manufacturer came round to me with a goodie bag and invited me to their hardware pleasure dome, I would (a) almost certainly accept, and (b) write about the trip, and (c) make clear as can be that readers knew what was going on.
That’s no foolproof insulation against bias (I’m a great enough fool to defeat any such insulation you install), but it helps you build the context for knowing how much you trust what I write. And it doesn’t set an arbitrary limit on how I pay for my next change of clothes.
[The whole discussion is good, but the best moment comes when David Weinberger writes, “Blogging about opera is still jazz. ”]
Posted by AKMA at October 16, 2002 11:18 PM | TrackBackWhen I wrote a column about gadgets for a paper, co's like IBM used to send me pretty valuable items - without even an initial call from a PR person. Just flood the mail with stuff. The system seems to presume that bribery works.
when you say:
"if a manufacturer came round to me with a goodie bag and invited me to their hardware pleasure dome, I would (a) almost certainly accept"
my initial thought is, this is exactly why PR and marketing have prospered. If you (well, not you, but one) were to be inundated with various trinkets and paid tix to events at locations unprepossessing and exotic, you would have to choose which to attend to. It begins to get complicated, all that explaining, to your readers and yourself. If you don't write about a $150 gadget, do you send it back at yr own expense? sell it on eBay? Soon you're calling in Arthur Andersen to audit the accounting of your reasons, pretexts, and influences, and secretly hoping they're as corrupt as everyone says they are. ;)
Posted by: Tom at October 17, 2002 09:02 AMThis whole discussion needs a large dose of the philosophy of Michael Polanyi. In Personal Knowledge , Polanyi shows that the entire structure of knowing is personal. Knowledge is not objective. As Alasdair McIntyre said, ìFacts, like telescopes and wigs for gentlemen, are a 17th century invention.î But knowledge is also not subjective. The ìpersonalî for Polanyi has nothing to do with what we typically think of as subjective. When we commit to ourselves to our ideas, or to the ideas we are talking or writing about, they become our ideas; it is only inside this structure of commitment that our thinking transcends subjective attitudes and irritants. We cannot know things much less talk, or write about them, outside of passionate commitments towards them. As Martin Luther said, ìHere I stand, I can do no other.î And our knowing has no meaning unless we are willing to accept our calling and defend our ideas pubicly. What does this mean for Doc? It doesnít mean that he is uncorruptable. But it does mean that he shouldnít worry about going to speak for Microsoft. Instead, it kind of requires that he does speak to them and give an account of his knowledge. The whole idea that he is inevitably comprimised because he took money for his talk is caught up with the idea that objective knowledge is some how obtainable. Doc only stays objective if the ìexpirementî of going to redmond remains ìuntainted.î If Docís knowledge is Docís personal knowledge we shouldnít have any question about whether or not we are hearing Doc on an issue. Whether or not he has sold his soul is a question only he can answer.
Posted by: Trevor Bechtel at October 17, 2002 11:14 AMSomebody's got to send 'Blogging about opera is still jazz.' over to Gary for his Unfamous Quotations project.
Posted by: steve at October 17, 2002 12:33 PM