How the ghostblogging debate should have been.

The annals of Turning Left Against Traffic consist of one-sided diatribes, not balanced, blow-by-blow reviews of pugilistic contests. So to capture the Great Ghostblogging Debate, I shall offer the most enticing literary technique for presenting two opposing worldviews: the Italian method. In this model, two characters engage in heated conversation moderated by a third. Ghostblogging will be championed in the hypothetical by Casper, ridiculed by Imma and mediated by Sagredo. Bonus points available for identifying those offbeat references. Quiet now, here come the curtains:

* * *
Sagredo: Sir and madam: the issue of the day is ghostblogging—authoring an article for web publication that carries the byline of another person. Where do you stand, Casper?

Casper: Ghostblogging is merely transcription and editing. We speak with the client on some topic, capture the exchange on paper and assemble their ideas for the electronic medium. The finished product includes the client’s name because the client retains authority and ownership.

Sagredo: Do you concur with this definition?

Imma: No. Ghostblogging is ghostwriting, and the primary aim of ghostwriting is deception. Society should not permit fraud. Although we consciously tolerate or fail to detect many of these lies, they are nevertheless reprehensible.

Sagredo: Your positions seem irreconcilably distinct. Casper insists that ghostbloggers work with the named author to generate copy. Imma apparently believes that because the ghostblogger does not publicly share credit, the public is purposely fooled.
Surely, Casper, you do not feel that a ghost sets out to trick readers?

Casper: The suggestion that ghostwriters lie is hurtful and inaccurate. We don’t intend to deceive anyone. Our involvement is irrelevant to the reader, so listing the ghostwriter’s name is a distraction. The purpose of that byline is to show who came up with the published ideas, not who assembled them into coherent sentences for publication.

Imma: But that’s the crucial point. The public does not know the depth of your efforts. Perhaps the client has a broken finger and your job is solely to be a typist, or perhaps you’ve never spoken with the expert and instead researched and wrote the entire piece on your own and merely signed your client’s name and collected your fee.

Casper: I’d never do that!

Sagredo: Decorum, please!

Sagredo: Casper, what Imma seems to propose is that in theory, a ghostwriter could generate a piece with no client interaction and successfully fool the public. Do you agree?

Casper: I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t feel such a practice would be either practical or ethical. It would be far more time consuming to create something purely through research than by just talking to the client. And I do agree that doing so would be wrong, because the named author would have nothing to do with finished product.

Sagredo: Imma, does this mean anything to you?

Imma: Casper and I concur that ghostwriting without engaging the client in conversation is wrong because the client is not actually involved in work attributed to them. I want Casper to explain how much conversation must occur for the ghostblogging process to be ethical.

Casper: I know you’re going to attack this response, but it depends on the client and the topic. At the very least, the client must give the ghostblogger the core ideas that will be used in the post.

Imma: But does that delivery have to occur actively? Would it not be reasonable—under your ethical guidelines—to study their past comments and clippings and work something up that sounds like the client?

Casper: Again in theory, sure. But the client has to approve the piece to reasonably receive credit for the ideas. That safeguard ensures that the ghostwriter isn’t inventing entirely from their own mind.

Sagredo: This is, of course, exactly what speechwriters do for politicians. They crib from past speeches, articles and policy documents. What do you think about that, Imma?

Imma: Actually, I do believe that speechwriting is equivalent to ghostwriting. The practice is widespread and commonly accepted, but just because something is popular does not mean it is right.

Casper: Seriously? Speechwriting is a fantastic example of why ghostwriting is a reasonable and useful activity. You don’t really expect government officials and corporate executives to waste time writing, do you? Plus, it’s likely that these individuals cannot write well. Believe me.

Imma: You’ve just made two provocative claims. First, that writing is a ‘waste of time’, which is a rather dismal view of your chosen profession. And second, you’ve called into question the competence of our leaders. The ability to write well is a fundamental qualification for any professional. If a CEO or a high-level bureaucrat cannot communicate effectively through the written word they do not deserve their such an important role in our society.

Sagredo: Now, let’s be fair Imma. I don’t think Casper meant that writing was a waste of time or that his clients are stupid.

Casper: Yes, what I meant was that writing might be a $50/hour job, but being an executive is a $1,000/hour job. If a CEO spends the entire morning writing a blog post, please let me know so I can avoid buying stock in that company.

Imma: Well, what about the second issue, that anyone who hires a ghostwriter because they can’t write is suspect?

Casper: That’s not fair. Certainly, there are examples of incredibly talented and skilled people with minimal formal training in writing, such as athletes. For their stories to be told, a ghostwriter makes sense. And even highly educated leaders don’t spend as much time writing as I do. I will be more efficient and more effective at writing than even the brightest of my clients.

Imma: I see your point, Casper, but those analogies don’t survive analysis. When athletes or celebrities publish books, there’s always the name of the supporting writer in smaller letters on the front cover. That’s not ghostwriting, that’s just co-writing. Why can’t you do the same for your blog posts?

Casper: Those are whole books! We’re just talking about blog posts. These are a few hundred words tossed onto a website, not masterpieces to be stored for all eternity at the Library of Congress.
Sagredo: These are great discussions, but we’ve wandered far beyond the topic at hand. We’re here to talk about ghostblogging, not speeches or biographies. The online medium seems crucial to this discussion. Does the fact that ghostblogging happens on the Internet make a difference?
Casper: No.
Imma: No.
Sagredo: I did not expect that. If it’s not the channel which matters, perhaps it is the motivation. Why do you or do you not ghostblog?

Casper: I am a ghostblogger because it’s a great way to help brilliant, busy people share their message online. My clients want to publish their ideas, but between the challenge of a well-crafted sentence, the eccentricities of English grammar and the technical know-how needed to publish on the web, it’s simply easier to work with me. Everyone wins, especially their readers.

Imma: I refuse to use a ghostblogger because I don’t want my audience to question the source of my ideas. If Robert Frost had quietly outsourced writing poetry to an apprentice, the world would revolt upon discovery. We generally assume that a byline honestly represents the person who wrote those words.
Casper: Again, ghostwriters don’t do that!

Imma: But I can’t tell! You might be entirely honest, having thoroughly discussed ideas with your client and submitted your final version for his approval. Or, you might have produced some copy entirely on your own and slapped his name on the front. Since the ghost is invisible and prides himself that he can’t be detected, I will likely never know that you existed and can never know if you behaved in a way I would approve. Ghostblogging is fraud.

Casper: Like anything else, you just have to have a certain amount of trust. Sure, the ghostblogger could complete an entire post without ever talking to their client, but that technique is not going to last. It’s simply not possible to produce believable copy indefinitely. Eventually, readers will catch on to the fact that the ghost is doing all of the work and go elsewhere.

Sagredo: That’s really what this debate is all about: public perception. If a ghostwriter includes their own name as a co-author, the reader might dismiss the piece. If the ghostwriter is not listed and the reader determines the person receiving the credit was not substantially involved, they will likely feel deceived. Do you agree?

Imma: Yes, on both counts. If I want to read about How to Get Rich, I’d much rather hear directly from Donald Trump rather than from Donald Trump and someone named Meredith McIver. Who knows how many of Trump’s ideas are in a book which he couldn’t be bothered to write without a named co-author? And if McIver instead took extra cash to have her name removed from the cover, I would be enraged. Attribution to a secondary, no-name writer diminishes the value of a work, but not as much as finding out later that this person was kept secret!

Casper: I agree with the first claim but for different reasons than Imma. Adding the ghostwriter’s name as a co-author does diminish the value of the work, but not because it implies the lead author is lazy or incompetent. Rather, adding this name confuses the reader. (Am I supposed to know the name Meredith McIver before buying this book?) The work is by Donald Trump and about the life of Donald Trump: ideally, anyone else involved should be pushed to the acknowledgments section.

As for the latter statement, I do not believe that readers will riot in the streets if they “discover” a ghostwriter was involved. People are smart. They know that most professional content is created by professional writers.

Sagredo: I think we’re at a standstill. Either including the ghostwriters name would make the author less credible, or it would merely confuse and distract the reader. Ghostwriting is all about perception.

Imma: The practical implementation of ethics in any field is completely about perception. Violence is wrong, except in a predefined context like sports or self-defense. False attribution is wrong, but society has grown to accept the practice in specific contexts.

Casper: And I think this is a case where the content is more important than who was involved. After all, if we are ethically obligated to list the ghostwriter, are we also obligated to state the name of the editor? Do we need to credit all of their English teachers as well as Strunk & White and Merriam & Webster?

Imma: That’s a good point. I think that ghostwriters should self-identify, but it’s clearly silly to note the name of the editor who fixed a spliced comma or a misspelled word.

Sagredo: So what is the conclusion here? what have we learned?

Imma: I feel ghostblogging is wrong because I feel deceived when I discover the presence of a ghost. But clearly, not all people feel this way, and in many contexts regarding ghostwriting, most people simply don’t care.

This seems like intellectual laziness to me, but that’s the way it is.

Casper: I feel that ghostblogging is really about helping clients to spread their word. People understand that content on the Internet is often created by professionals. Writing is like making sausage; just because you enjoy the final product doesn’t mean you need to watch it being produced. While some readers might be surprised to learn who was involved in creating a piece, I don’t think most people will feel betrayed.

Sagredo: I suppose that in the final analysis, it depends not only on the audience but on the content. If a personal blogger uses a ghost, people might be upset to find out that the mom isn’t really blogging about changing diapers but has some expert doing it for her. Contrariwise, everyone assumes that CEOs and politicians never write their own speeches and postings.

So ghostblogging is neither right or wrong, it’s a long mushy shade of gray. It seems that Casper draws the line at popular opinion. If most people would not be surprised or offended to discover the ghostwriter’s existence, he feels comfortable crafting the piece and keeping his name off of the byline.

Casper: Yup.

Sagredo: But Imma draws the line not by what is popular, but by what she feels is right. According to her view of the world, people ought to stand by their words. By her logic, expressing yourself without attribution and with the hope of remaining eternal undetected is a willful deceit. It’s a lie that may be used to enable people to represent themselves beyond their own intellectual capacities. Ghostblogging, says Imma, is effectively fraud.

Imma: Indeed.

Sagredo: I am no more convinced on the topic of ghostblogging. Rather, I have discovered the philosophies of two people. One is a realist driven by opportunity, the other an idealist driven by scholarship. Either path, unchecked, leads to extremism. The ghostwriter who is lured by wealth or threatened with poverty might produce work without engaging their client. The attributional among us might deny editors the right to repair errant words without equal billing.

Sagredo: I have learned one noble truth: the secret to ghostblogging is finding out what your audience wants. Perhaps they don’t care who fingers are at the keyboard, or perhaps they will come bearing electronic torches and pitchforks if your unnamed author is discovered.

Ghostblogging, and more generally ghostwriting, reminds us that writing is for those who consume words. There may be a business or political advantage to attach a particular phalanx of words to a certain individual, product or brand. Ultimately, though, it is the ideas which matter. No matter who produces the text and how transparent or opaque it’s manufacture, worthwhile constructions shall endure. Ghostwriting is still writing. Our future still depends on what we choose to say.

Read full column at
http://www.robbyslaughter.com/blog/?2010-02-06

Robby Slaughter
Slaughter Development, LLC
317.670.4563
rslaughter@slaughterdevelopment.com

We present myriad objections to blog comments, ranging from reasoned arguments to simple whining. The overarching justification, though, is that blog comments are a case of gilding the lily. Some wondrous and prodigious architects have already built us a glorious hack that not only lets you use eBay to auction off sartorial tragedies but also provides for the most powerful and democratic self-publishing platform in all of human history. With only a whiff of bandwidth and the most paltry of hardware, practically anyone can offer commentary on any topic. We can use blogs to talk about anything, including other blogs. Yet another technology for commentary is redundant.

Technology Stinks

The easiest reason to avoid using something is out of frustration. (Note: I frequently rant about miserable failures in visual, interface and technical design.) Blog comment technology, however, stands out as an exceedingly pathetic segment of the source code of the web. Among the rich tapestry of discourse and the inconceivable diversity of content, commerce and cacophony online, blog comments emerge as squat rectangles stapled to other web pages. They comprise a tower of bland, daisy-chained Post-It™ notes stuck to the bottom rail of everything.

A blog post is an entire canvas, yet we must craft a response while scrunched up inside a tiny box. Each reply is made in isolation, unaware of other comments being typed at the same time on the same topic. Most blog comment systems require yet another username and password. And just like email, blog comments are plagued by spam, so bloggers must fritter away time moderating incoming messages. This punctuated agony is further extended when bloggers leap to their own defense in their own comments. The circle does not end. The center cannot hold.

The most embarrassing aspect of comment technology is best understood through contrast with comparable systems. Writing on a computer is called word processing, a term in use for a mere 39 years. When you produce a document via keyboard and mouse, you don’t just type plain text into form fields. For decades, software has imbued users with god-like control over every imaginable aspect of layout, color, typeface and imagery. We have long enjoyed revision control, collaborative editing and the ability to freely track changes and mark up any part of any document with asides, suggestions or invectives. Yet blog comments rarely offer any of these venerated features. They are hasty scrawls appended to complete works, which makes about as much sense as responding to a moving musical performance with a spontaneous a cappella howled into an long, echoing tube. One form does not befit the other.

Put Up Your Dukes, Mullenweg

Another reason to lament the technology of comments: the software behind Turning Left Against Traffic is home grown (and closed-source out of shame), so someone who makes highly successful open-source blogging software is my nemesis.

Blog comments also ruin the most pervasive and least understood acronym of our times. The U stands for uniform and the R for resource, and thus a web address is supposed to point towards a place which retains its essence and utility for all eternity. Comments often outweigh the original post—like a mob carrying off a random artifact. And the L for location (or more properly, I for identifier) ought to suggest the address form a suitable preview of what the page author intended. Yet URLs that reference blog comments may no longer reflect the tiny minority of words at the top now overshadowed by the barnacle-encrusted hull. That cruft grows ever downward. Your comments haphazardly glued onto my commentary is just bad tech.

What Plato Said

We interrupt this post for a Latin phrase: Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who will watch the watchers? Who will guard the guardians? Such questions not only stump overachievers in freshman philosophy courses but also highlight a fundamental weakness of blog comments: moderation requires adjudication. If there are messages that can be inserted and censored, how can anyone know whether the chain of comments reveal the whole truth?

The mere presence of comments breeds suspicion. Letting some people through the gate implies there are others forced to wait outside. Publishing supportive comments suggests that you may have trimmed or entirely rejected some long-winded, thoroughly-researched diatribe. If people can post comments on your blog, people will also wonder if there are other comments from other visitors that mysteriously fail to appear.

Also: sockpuppets. If commentary implies authority and relevance, a blogger can easily generate a few fake personas to serve as an artificial cheerleading squad. Perhaps no self-respecting ethical individual would blather on their own blog using a made-up name, but there is no way for a reader to tell the difference between an earnest comment and a willful deception. At best, enabling blog comments suggests the potential for malfeasance. At worst, your every visitor sees your green pastures as astroturf.

Disparity of Discourse

All writers share the curse of ego. We think we have something to say and thus concoct tasty phrases in hopes of finding thirsty minds. That you can type a few words of encouragement, hatred or profanity does not establish parity in our respective efforts. Blogging is writing, and writing is the craft of words. Commenting is scribbling notes in the electronic margin. Why should I publish the half-hearted work of a few seconds alongside what I labored for hours to produce? To call upon our mutual education at Sesame Street, “One of these things is not like the other.”

Because You’re Loved

Plus, your locally grown, wholly organic edition of Turning Left Against Traffic has all kinds of juicy extras. These include Photoshop hack jobs such as how-to books, award plaques, coin-op car stereos, federal seals, ravenous cellphones and headstones for pink bunnies.

You get interactive educational demos which illustrate programmer incompetence and measure francophilia. There’s amateur musicology and branded versus badges. You get complete holiday parodies and code deconstructions. There’s even the occasional use of propositional logic on corporate groupthink. Plus, a screencast is coming! Can you really produce a commensurate response from the inside of a text-only black rectangle?

Get Your Own Damn Blog

It used to be that the web was an elite space, reserved for those with a stunning combination of erudition and technical wizardry. To post online required not only a complete knowledge of obscure industry acronyms but a split infinitive or spliced comma would generate a debris field of digital scorn. Back then, the web was occupied by a few. No longer are we alone. In the words of Clay Shirky: “Here Comes Everybody.”
Today, anybody can get a blog without any technical knowledge or even a credit card. Why should I give you a broken crayon to mark up one corner of my masterpiece when you can get your own canvas for free? Feel free to comment on my blog, but don’t expect to do it at my blog. Instead, take one minute and ten seconds to a blog of your own (direct link):

Solid Water in Gehenna

One great way to look foolish is to fiendishly cling to a principle and then later sheepishly recant. I might do that. Dave Winer (who has been at this so long that the BBC calls him the “father of blogging”) once explained his perspective on why he did not allow others to write notes on his blog: Comments interfere with the natural expression of the unedited voice of an individual. A few months later, he flip-flopped on the subject and published a statement on his deletion policy. If the protoblogger can change his mind, I can too.

Concluding, Predicting

Since you’ve endured to the bottom of this knowing that you won’t be able to leave a comment, at least allow me to summarize my points. The whole purpose of blogging is for anybody to be able to talk about anything without fear of censorship and without any additional technical limitations. Comments are a weak, unnecessary duplication of this invention, not only because they attract spam, personal attacks and drivel, but especially since making your own blog is easy and free.

As the web continues to trend away from publication and toward conversation, I believe comments will become less prevalent. The worst place to store your ideas is on someone else’s site. The best and safest way to talk is to ensure that you are only responsible for what you say, not for managing scores of messages hanging off your site like shimmering algae.

Finally, we must dismiss the seductive trap that suggests without blog comments there can be no “community.” This claim is nonsense. Human connections do not arise from the method by which we connect, but despite the limitations of that method. That’s why the best conversations happen in the hall after the lecture, why the parody is often more endearing than the original. We must stop obsessing over enabling self-expression via tiny boxes. We must instead have faith that those with something to say will use the most free and uncensored medium of all time to find a way to say it—without anyone’s permission.

Comments limit discourse. They require that we constrain our speech to the pathetic features of their technology and the whims and policies of the host. Start your own blog. Join the conversation. Control what you contribute.

Read the original at: http://www.robbyslaughter.com/blog/?2009-11-28

Robby Slaughter
Slaughter Development, LLC
317.670.4563
rslaughter@slaughterdevelopment.com

Read the rest at: http://www.robbyslaughter.com/blog/?2009-10-26

Robby Slaughter
Slaughter Development, LLC
317.670.4563
rslaughter@slaughterdevelopment.com