From Renegade Blogger to Sociopathic Pond Scum

May 16th, 2012

Back in 2007 I had the temerity to suggest that H-Net’s days might be numbered. That suggestion earned me, among other things, the title “renegade blogger.” Now, it seems, I’ve made the transition to “sociopathic pond scum.” As I told some teenagers last night, I suppose that means I’ve finally arrived on the Internet.

A few samples from the emails I’ve begun receiving in response to Yoni Appelbaum’s article on Atlantic.com about my course Lying About the Past are instructive of the level of “debate” going on in my inbox. I say “debate” because it really isn’t a conversation. Rather, what I’m getting is lots of bile from around the world.

Chris Sherlock of Sydney, Australia writes, “You are nothing more than a vandal, officially sanctioned by the university. This makes you an unmitigated bastard.”

Staton Richardson writes, “You seem a little sociopathic, according to the article. Fix history, don’t make it worse.”

A.S. writes, “Please, stop vandalizing Wikipedia for the sake of vandalizing. What’s the point?”

The lead comment on the Atlantic site reads: “This professor and his brood are pond scum.  They are worse than parasites and deserve all the scorn society has at its disposal.”

And in a very wide-ranging discussion on MetaFilter, an unknown user writes, “Wow, I didn’t know you could major in douchebaggery.”

I’ve been reading these comments and it seems to me on first blush that the two nerves my students and I touched have to do with the general idea of falsifying history for educational purposes (good idea? bad idea?) and the sanctity of Wikipedia issue. Much of the anger directed my way is based on the supposition that my students vandalized Wikipedia this semester–a thing they didn’t do. Their entries, as I wrote yesterday, were 100% true and based entirely on actual historical sources.

Given Appelbaum’s take on the weak nature of Wikipedia’s community, I think it’s worth thinking for a minute about why anything that seems to have sullied the sanctity of Wikipedia would elicit such vitriol?

The other question I’ll be thinking about is the larger question of how the free speech space that is the Internet creates a venue for a relatively low level of discourse. Back in December 2011, Claire Potter wrote a very interesting piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education about the dangers of being a feminist blogger. The issues that Potter grapples with and the level of trollery she faces are obviously much more important/much worse than what’s come across my screen today. But her take on what happens when one’s ideas–controversial ideas–find their way into the wilds of the Internet is, I think, well worth thinking about.

The comments I’ve received (not all were bad) also brought to mind a recent column by the Ombudsman for The Washington Post in which he discussed a new commenting policy at the washingtonpost.com website that will, it is hoped, reduce the trollery there.

Is it a bad idea to limit the speech of the haters? In general, I fall on the side of John Stuart Mill and argue for virtually unfettered freedom of speech. How else can controversial ideas be aired, debated, and refined? On this blog I’ve published a number of comments that have been very sharply worded attacks on me or my ideas. What I have not published are ad hominem attacks on others, leaving it to the haters to find other venues for those thoughts.

For now I’m going to order up some baseball hats that say “Sociopathic Pond Scum.”

[Image source]

Internet Hoaxes and Community Strength

May 15th, 2012

Following the reveal of my students’ hoaxes from this semester, Yoni Appelbaum, a correspondent for The Atlantic, wrote a very interesting piece on the course itself and the lessons we can learn for why the 2008 hoax was more successful (seemingly) than the 2012 hoaxes.

Appelbaum’s piece focuses on the strength or weakness of various forms of Internet communities, arguing that Wikipedia’s community is relatively weak and opaque, while Reddit’s community is quite strong (at least at the sub-Reddit level) and very transparent. Further, Wikipedia’s community is extremely decentralized, while Reddit’s (again, at the sub-Reddit level) is quite centralized. Does that explain why the members of the serial killer sub-Reddit exposed my students’ hoax as a hoax in just 26 minutes? I think it’s an interesting idea and one worth exploring in more detail.

The other thing that I think is interesting is the comment thread on the article, largely because it’s been a while since I was called “pond scum.” A quick review of the 70+ comments just now indicates that about a half to a third of the commenters read the piece carefully and engaged with the issues Appelbaum raises. The other half to two-thirds were either just plain angry that my students created false histories and put them online for two weeks, or that my students had somehow vandalized Wikipedia. A more careful reading of the article indicates, as I wrote yesterday, that one of the ironies of this year’s class was that the Wikipedia entries my students created were 100% true. Two were deleted for lack of sufficient notability, but the third survives (as it should).

There is, to be sure, an important ethical issue to be considered with respect to this course. Were I willing to let my students leave their hoaxes up indefinitely, I believe that would be an ethical lapse. Further, were I willing to let them create hoaxes on any subject (medicine/health care, terrorism, living people were some of the off limits topics), then I think one could argue that we’d crossed the line. But a beer from 1812 or a man who died in the 1920s (and who shows up in no one’s family history on Ancestry.com)? I don’t think there were any real victims here.

I’m going to look forward to the further unrolling of this story over the next few days.

Serial Killers, Beer, and Lies About the Past

May 14th, 2012

The semester being all but over, it is time to reveal the work of my students in the course Lying About the Past that I taught this semester here at George Mason University.

Because my course was larger this time around, the class split into two hoax teams, each of which perpetrated their own historical hoax. Unlike the last time around (the Last American Pirate hoax), the students did not end up hoaxing any history teachers (at least as far as we know). They did, however, manage to hoax more than a few people out there in the wider world…not so many as the perpetrator of the Lincoln Invented Facebook hoax…but more than just a few.

As with the previous incarnation of the course, the students all walked away from the course with a firm belief that research counts and that accepting whatever you find online at first glance is a bad policy. I was really pleased to see that they extended this lesson beyond the Internet to pretty much all historical sources. As one student said to me, from now on she was going to apply the “sniff test” to all her sources..if it smelled slightly fishy, she was going to have to seek corroboration. If all they got out of the class was this one lesson, then it was well worth teaching.

In addition to the lessons learned, I think it’s fair to say that once again, all the students had fun. It’s not often that history students laugh their way through an entire semester (even as they learned a lot).

So what were the hoaxes?

The first was New York City’s First Serial Killer. In this hoax, a woman working on the family history uncovers details that lead her to believe that her great uncle Joe might have been a serial killer back in the 1890s when he was a young man living in New York. To pull this one off, the students created a fictitious person working on the family history, gave her a blog, created two Wikipedia entries (both of which were 100% true, thank you very much), and tried to use Reddit as the place to get the hoax going.

To see what happened, you can go to the serial killer sub-reddit and read how the conversation about the supposed serial killer went. What is fascinating to me is how convinced the redditers became that, while the story of Uncle Joe was false, it was clearly some sort of attempt to start a viral marketing campaign for a new book or movie.

The other very interesting result of the hoax attempt was how the conversation on Reddit quickly turned to the Wikipedia entries as proof that it was a hoax. Sharp-eyed redditers noted the timing and IP addresses of the author/editors of the entries and declared them the result of someone engaged in “sock puppetry.” The irony here is that the students were all real people (not sock puppets of one user) and the entries were entirely true and based on extensive historical research. The entries have since been deleted, but I have saved copies and will be posting them here tomorrow as part of my continuing discussion of this hoax.

The second hoax was the Beer of 1812. In this hoax, a non-existent beer enthusiast (false fact #1) named Harris Thompson was given an old beer recipe (false fact #2) that, it turns out, was from Brown’s Brewery (true fact), the place where the “star spangled banner flag” of 1812 was created by Mary Pickersgill. The students were hoping to hoax the beer lovers of Baltimore by cashing in on the bicentennial of the war of 1812 and the promotion it is getting in Baltimore at the moment.

While the first hoax managed to (initially) convince a number of redditers, this hoax didn’t ever really seem to catch on. One popular local radio DJ wrote it up in his blog, but other than that, there wasn’t a lot of evidence that anyone actually noticed.

A particularly interesting aspect of this particular hoax is that while doing their research, the students noticed that the wall card for the Star Spangled Banner Flag in the National Museum of American History listed the wrong name for the brewery where Pickersgill sewed the flag…they named it for the subsequent owner of the brewery, not Mr. Brown. The students have written to the Museum to inform them of the error.

Tomorrow I’ll write more about what my students learned from the course.

 

 

Global Perspectives on Digital History

March 1st, 2012

Today, my colleagues Peter Haber, Jan Hodel, and I (along with the indispensable help of Dan Ludington) are pleased to announce the launch of Global Perspectives on Digital History, the latest of the PressForward publications from the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media.

Like Digital Humanities Now, Global Perspectives on Digital History aggregates and selects material from our Compendium of the Global Perspectives, drawing from hundreds of venues where high-quality scholarship is likely to appear, including the personal websites of scholars, institutional sites, blogs, and other feeds. It also seeks to discover new material by monitoring Twitter (someone else is going to have to do that for me given my aversion to the whole Twitterverse) and other social media for stories discussed by the community, and by continuously scanning the broader web through generalized and specialized search engines.

Unlike Digital Humanities Now, Global Perspectives on Digital History is focused more on history, rather than on digital humanities in general. This is not to say we won’t be bringing in content from other digital humanities disciplines that seems relevant to our readers’ interests in digital history. But, as much as possible, we will remain more tightly focused on a single discipline. The other big difference in approach with the first of the PressForward publications is that Global Perspectives on Digital History is a multi-lingual publication. Our initial languages are English, German, and French, but we expect to expand soon into other languages. The only thing holding us back at present is a lack of editors to help with the scanning of content in those other languages.

At present we are using the GoogleTranslate plug in for translation. If you have any experience with this plug in you know it is wholly insufficient for what we are about. Over the coming year, we will be exploring other options for machine translation of our content and hope to learn some things worth knowing through that exploration.

Like Digital Humanities Now, we will also be moving toward some traditional publication of content that appears on our site. Whether we use the model currently in use at Digital Humanities Now or something else, still remains to be seen. We are going to watch the development of the open peer review process carefully before deciding on our approach.

At present, we are splitting our coverage of digital history from around the globe between longer “think pieces” that we are tagging as “editor’s choice” content, and briefer entries we are tagging as “short takes.” We suspect we will expand into reviews and other content from around the globe that examines digital history sometime in the near future.

For now, please visit the site and be sure to let us know what you think.