The timeline featured in Tuesday’s lecture graphically reminds us that our relationship with language has traveled through time. Just as our economies have evolved, our use of language has too. For centuries, we have used language to discover truth—with a capital or lowercase “t.” Socrates promoted the use of questions as a truth-discovery tool. Yet, now we arrive at truth by amassing information.
We may still ask questions as we navigate through jungles of information. But, Socrates encouraged questions within—discovering the innate knowledge we inherited at birth. Now, we comb through external knowledge, hoping to explore the information generated by a variety of truth-tellers.
In our readings this week, we learn that Edward Tyrell Channing, a Boylston Professor from 1819 to 1851, recognized the revolutionary role of information in modern rhetoric. Information, he theorized, helped to create informed audiences, nurtured individual thoughts and opinions, and opened up the American market place of ideas. I don’t know enough of the history of composition to know if his thoughts were a turning point, but this idea is certainly interesting to contemplate in our current day crowded by information.
Our ability to connect with information changed dramatically over the last century. Over an entire lifetime, people, at the turn of the 20th century, absorbed the same amount information that can currently be found in a single issue of the Sunday New York Times. Developments over the last 100 years in mass media created new technological ways to explore and share information. The most recent, of course, is the Internet. The Internet, whether with a capital or lowercase “i,” has created a world where information is infinite.
As a student and writer who is often required to research, this access to information is fantastic. Consider the ability to read literary theory using Google books—no trips to the library, no clunky theoretical tome. Despite obstacles like China’s censorship of Google and America’s persisting digital divide, this abundance of information has mostly broken through barriers and provided access to new and greater audiences.
With all that in mind, infinite and immediate information has created interesting side effects that impact writing. A glut of the information market (remember supply and demand) has decreased the value of information. People now believe (remember Google books) that information should be free. While free information is certainly nice to have, it is also responsible for the demise of institutions like the print newspaper. Who wants a cumbersome mound of ink-smudged paper filled with annoying ads and inserts, when you can easily read any newspaper in the world—or your favorite niche blogger—from your laptop? Yet, trained writers are paid to investigate and write these same stories read for free online. To continue paying these writers, newspapers struggle unsuccessfully to find new ways to charge readers for using their web-based news. (Just this morning, the New York Times announced its intentions to charge for frequent access to articles on its web site. Something, I predict will fail.) In his book Free, author Chris Anderson forecasts a world populated by many more writers who mostly are unpaid. He suggests that current paid writing positions will quickly evolve into part-time gigs that are either paid or not.
As some of us pursue the profession of writing, we may be entering a world that will no longer pay us to perform our craft. And, as we witnessed in class on Tuesday, access to literacy and education revolutionized the world. Will global access to information and the rise of everyday writers do the same? Has it already?
We may still ask questions as we navigate through jungles of information. But, Socrates encouraged questions within—discovering the innate knowledge we inherited at birth. Now, we comb through external knowledge, hoping to explore the information generated by a variety of truth-tellers.In our readings this week, we learn that Edward Tyrell Channing, a Boylston Professor from 1819 to 1851, recognized the revolutionary role of information in modern rhetoric. Information, he theorized, helped to create informed audiences, nurtured individual thoughts and opinions, and opened up the American market place of ideas. I don’t know enough of the history of composition to know if his thoughts were a turning point, but this idea is certainly interesting to contemplate in our current day crowded by information.
Our ability to connect with information changed dramatically over the last century. Over an entire lifetime, people, at the turn of the 20th century, absorbed the same amount information that can currently be found in a single issue of the Sunday New York Times. Developments over the last 100 years in mass media created new technological ways to explore and share information. The most recent, of course, is the Internet. The Internet, whether with a capital or lowercase “i,” has created a world where information is infinite.
As a student and writer who is often required to research, this access to information is fantastic. Consider the ability to read literary theory using Google books—no trips to the library, no clunky theoretical tome. Despite obstacles like China’s censorship of Google and America’s persisting digital divide, this abundance of information has mostly broken through barriers and provided access to new and greater audiences.
With all that in mind, infinite and immediate information has created interesting side effects that impact writing. A glut of the information market (remember supply and demand) has decreased the value of information. People now believe (remember Google books) that information should be free. While free information is certainly nice to have, it is also responsible for the demise of institutions like the print newspaper. Who wants a cumbersome mound of ink-smudged paper filled with annoying ads and inserts, when you can easily read any newspaper in the world—or your favorite niche blogger—from your laptop? Yet, trained writers are paid to investigate and write these same stories read for free online. To continue paying these writers, newspapers struggle unsuccessfully to find new ways to charge readers for using their web-based news. (Just this morning, the New York Times announced its intentions to charge for frequent access to articles on its web site. Something, I predict will fail.) In his book Free, author Chris Anderson forecasts a world populated by many more writers who mostly are unpaid. He suggests that current paid writing positions will quickly evolve into part-time gigs that are either paid or not.
As some of us pursue the profession of writing, we may be entering a world that will no longer pay us to perform our craft. And, as we witnessed in class on Tuesday, access to literacy and education revolutionized the world. Will global access to information and the rise of everyday writers do the same? Has it already?
Excellent topic! I definitely think the global access to unlimited information has changed and will continue to change the world, though I think we're only beginning to understand what that change will mean. Trying to educate oneself is a case in point. How much of the information we have access to is accurate? (Wikipedia.) How much is skewed by a certain viewpoint? With more information available, more time and research is necessary. There is no end to the information, so where do you end your research? I literally get stressed out about the endlessly available information. But I would complain endlessly if it were to suddenly end! :)
ReplyDeleteI agree, Erin. Sometimes I feel like information is hurtled at us, invading our space -- information pollution. If we hold true to Milton's "marketplace of ideas," in this thick swarm of information, then only the best and truest ideas will rise to the top. Wikipedia seems based on this concept. While it certainly isn't perfect--or anything close to perfect, it is interesting to see this ideal in practice. Yet, at the same time, I wished people wouldn't use it for academic research!
ReplyDeleteAgain, we are back to the basic argument of ancient rhetoric. Who do you trust? Who is the "good man"? How do you make an informed decision when there are so many glib arguments out each-many proponents of opposing views? Timeless questions presented to us through thousands of generations. Ultimately, it is up to the individual to make conclusions based on legitimate information. An almost impossible task in any age but one particularly impossible in this age of information overload. I wonder where we go from here?
ReplyDeleteDoesn't the beginning of "ammassing" information begin with a question, which leads to another question? Instead of being asked by others, we can now ask these questions of ourselves and if we don't know, we have resources.
ReplyDeleteWhat happened if Socrates or Plato didn't know the answer to a question THEY were asked?
Information informs composition as a subject and the themes that the writer embraces just as technology affects not only methods of communication but the art of writing, as much as speech patterns and cultural constructs.
ReplyDelete