A wire story consists of one voice pitched low and calm and full of institutional gravitas, blissfully unaware of its own biases or the gaping lacunae in its knowledge. Whereas blogs have a different format: Clever teaser headline that has little to do with the actual story, but sets the tone for this blog post. Breezy ad hominem slur containing the link to the entire story. Excerpt of said story, demonstrating its idiocy (or brilliance) Blogauthor’s remarks, varying from dismissive sniffs to a Tolstoi-length rebuttal. Seven comments from people piling on, disagreeing, adding a link, acting stupid, preaching to the choir, accusing choir of being Nazis, etc.
I’d say it’s a throwback to the old newspapers, the days when partisan slants covered everything from the play story to the radio listings, but this is different. The link changes everything. When someone derides or exalts a piece, the link lets you examine the thing itself without interference. TV can’t do that. Radio can’t do that. Newspapers and magazines don’t have the space. My time on the internet resembles eight hours at a coffee shop stocked with every periodical in the world — if someone says “I read something stupid” or “there was this wonderful piece in the Atlantic” then conversation stops while you read the piece and make up your own mind.
James Lileks, The Bleat, 2002-10-10.
May 13, 2021
QotD: Blogging
May 10, 2021
Seventeen years of undetected crime blogging
Last year, I said “Blogging may be a stagnant backwater of the internet these days” but something definitely changed since then as new platforms have blossomed, drawing many “mainstream” writers into blogging. They’re mostly careful not to call it blogging, of course. Mere “blogging” is tired and old-fashioned and so utterly Plebeian, so their shiny new Substack sites can’t be mere “blogs” … but if it walks like a blog and quacks like a blog …
I used to publish annual traffic statistics, but the plug-in I had been using since 2009 blew up spectacularly — knocking the site offline for more than 24 hours — so I no longer have anything like a continuous data series to draw on. Over the last few years, I was regularly clocking in between one and two million “hits” in a year, but as you’d expect a significant portion of those were automated bots rather than actual human beings. Other than visitors who come here from other blogs, most of my traffic these days comes by way of various social media sites like Gab and MeWe. I used to get a fair number of visits from Twitter, but my Twitter traffic has been dwindling down to almost nothing in recent years (perhaps reflecting the decreasing diversity of viewpoints allowed on that platform).
Earlier anniversary postings:
- Sixteenth anniversary
- Fifteenth anniversary
- Fourteenth anniversary
- Thirteenth anniversary
- Twelfth anniversary
- Eleventh anniversary
- Tenth anniversary
- Ninth anniversary
- Eighth anniversary
- Seventh anniversary
- Sixth anniversary
Unfortunately, the first five years of postings — when I was merely a freeloading tenant on Jon P’s site … and eventually consuming some 90+% of his paid bandwidth and storage — aren’t accessible any more, at least I haven’t been able to get access for quite some time:
- (Very belated) Fifth anniversary
- (Premature) Fourth anniversary (a few days later, I welcomed my 150,000th visitor)
- Third anniversary
- (Belated) Second anniversary
- First anniversary
March 11, 2021
Substack is “‘incredibly dangerous and damaging’ to ‘one of the few failsafes against anti-democratic maneuvers'”
At The Line, Matt Gurney discusses Substack in the light of extreme criticism by, among others, UCLA professor of information studies Dr. Sarah T. Roberts:
It wasn’t long ago that Jen Gerson and I wrote damn similar columns within days of each other. She was writing here, at The Line, and I was writing at my personal blog, Code 47. We both discussed Substack, the digital publishing company you’re reading at this very moment — The Line is currently hosted on Substack.
Or, if you prefer, Substack is a “a dangerous direct threat to traditional news media” and “a threat to journalism.”
That is the view of Dr. Sarah T. Roberts, a professor of information studies at UCLA, who unloaded on Substack (and some of those who use it) in a recent Twitter thread. You can read it here, and should, but for our purposes, Roberts argues that Substack is bad because it lets journalists who have come up through the traditional newsroom system bail on it, stop bothering with the trouble of an editor, “cash out” on the reputation they earned in newsrooms, and transform themselves from a “journalist” to that vastly lower order of life, “an opinion writer, at best.” Ouch!
Roberts makes an explicit appeal to her Twitter followers: do not pay for Substack content. Do not write for Substack. (She does carve out exceptions for purely personal blogs on trivial topics.) But Substack as a journalism venture is, in her view, “incredibly dangerous and damaging” to “one of the few failsafes against anti-democratic maneuvers … We really can’t afford to lose [journalism] right now.”
This is my summary of what she said — perhaps she’d quibble with it, which is why I’m encouraging you, all of you, to go read her original thread. Get it in her own words and judge for yourself if I’ve been fair.
Assuming I’ve passed your muster, like, yikes. Where to start?
Roberts is, of course, as entitled to her views as any one, and if she hates Substack with a fiery passion, that’s totally fine. And I think there is some truth to her argument, as Jen and I both noted in our earlier pieces: there no doubt are some people with big profiles, who built those profiles working for traditional newsrooms, who will bail on that job to go make money — maybe lots of money! — on Substack. This is a threat to legacy media organizations, who are more reliant than ever on a few key contributors, who serve not only as click magnets, but also human avatars of an outlet’s brand. Roberts’ argument is on the money here.
But the sum of what she left out of her argument is so gigantic that it practically warrants a Substack of its own.
January 23, 2021
Scott Alexander returns
Having been driven from his original blog due to a doxxing threat from a New York Times reporter, Scott Alexander has resumed his public blogging, this time on Substack:
Welcome to Astral Codex Ten! Some of you are probably veterans of my old blog, Slate Star Codex. Others may be newbies wondering what this is all about.
I’m happy to finally be able to give a clear answer: this is a blog about ṛta.
Ṛta is a Sanskrit word, so ancient that it brushes up against the origin of Indo-European languages. It’s related to English “rationality” and “arithmetic”, but also “art” and “harmony”. And “right”, both in the senses of “natural rights” and “the right answer”. And “order”. And “arete” and “aristos” and all those other Greek words about morality. And “artificial”, as in eg artificial intelligence. More speculatively “reign” and related words about rulership, and “rich” and related words about money.
(also “arthropod”, but insects creep me out so I’ll be skipping this one)
The dictionary defines ṛta as “order”, “truth”, or “rule”, but I think of it as the intersection of all these concepts, a sort of hidden node at the center of art and harmony and rationality and the rest. What are the laws of thought? How do they reveal themselves, at every level, from the flow of electricity through the brain to the flow of money through the global economy? How can we cleave to them more closely, for our own good and the good of generations still to come?
In practice, articles (another ṛta relative!) here tend to focus on reasoning, science, psychiatry, medicine, ethics, genetics, AI, economics and politics. The political posts sometimes stray into choppy waters, and I have immense sympathy for people who are sick of that and prefer to pass.
As with most Substack blogs, it’s a subscriber-supported effort with limited public posts available to non-paying subscribers (like me).
November 21, 2020
“Ah, and so it begins. The problematization of Substack”
Writing — appropriately — on Substack, Jen Gerson outlines her transition from full-time journalist to journalist-subsisting-on-the-crumbs-of-direct-reader-support at The Line:
True story: an ambitious young man with an idea for a startup gave me a ring on the phone. He wanted to start a new platform for writers and journalists; what would it take to encourage a writer like me to abandon the mainstream media and go fully independent? I explained the sort of site that might entice me — a clean and painless user interface, basic word processor, and something to take care of IT and payment back end. I then hung up the phone and thought to myself: “Nice guy. Too bad that idea isn’t going anywhere.”
After all, why would I abandon paying gigs in mainstream journalism for the uncertainty of direct reader support? It was a crazy idea.
Years passed.
Well, this gentleman went off to form a company called, uh, Substack, and after Andrew Sullivan left New York Magazine to reconstitute the Daily Dish under the aegis on this very platform, I was forced to dredge up this gentleman’s email and offer to eat my hat.
Because by then, mainstream media was in a state of financial and moral disarray and it was time for me to do what I would have done three years earlier if I had possessed the foresight — start The Line. In any case, the founder of Substack was very kind and even managed to schedule a call with me, at which point I said: “OK, you were right.”
This was one of the conversations that eventually led to my co-founding this fine newsletter that you are reading now, but in the course of this chat I had to ask another question: “You know they’re going to come after you, right? Are you ready for that?”
He said Substack is, indeed, committed to serving its community of writers — provided they aren’t spreading hate or disinformation, of course — but I suspect the company is only beginning to gain a glimpse of the test ahead.
When I read the Columbia Journalism Review‘s piece “The Substackerati“, released this week, my first response was: “Ah, and so it begins. The problematization of Substack.”
July 18, 2020
Andrew Sullivan and New York magazine part company “amicably”
In his final column for New York, Andrew Sullivan announces he’s going back to blogging and stop making employees there feel unsafe:
The good news is that my last column in this space is not about “cancel culture.” Well, almost. I agree with some of the critics that it’s a little nuts to say I’ve just been “canceled,” sent into oblivion and exile for some alleged sin. I haven’t. I’m just no longer going to be writing for a magazine that has every right to hire and fire anyone it wants when it comes to the content of what it wants to publish.
The quality of my work does not appear to be the problem. I have a long essay in the coming print magazine on how plagues change societies, after all. I have written some of the most widely read essays in the history of the magazine, and my column has been popular with readers. And I have no complaints about my interaction with the wonderful editors and fact-checkers here — and, in fact, am deeply grateful for their extraordinary talent, skill, and compassion. I’ve been in the office maybe a handful of times over four years, and so there’s no question of anyone mistreating me or vice versa. In fact, I’ve been proud and happy to be a part of this venture.
What has happened, I think, is relatively simple: A critical mass of the staff and management at New York Magazine and Vox Media no longer want to associate with me, and, in a time of ever tightening budgets, I’m a luxury item they don’t want to afford. And that’s entirely their prerogative. They seem to believe, and this is increasingly the orthodoxy in mainstream media, that any writer not actively committed to critical theory in questions of race, gender, sexual orientation, and gender identity is actively, physically harming co-workers merely by existing in the same virtual space. Actually attacking, and even mocking, critical theory’s ideas and methods, as I have done continually in this space, is therefore out of sync with the values of Vox Media. That, to the best of my understanding, is why I’m out of here.
Two years ago, I wrote that we all live on campus now. That is an understatement. In academia, a tiny fraction of professors and administrators have not yet bent the knee to the woke program — and those few left are being purged. The latest study of Harvard University faculty, for example, finds that only 1.46 percent call themselves conservative. But that’s probably higher than the proportion of journalists who call themselves conservative at the New York Times or CNN or New York Magazine. And maybe it’s worth pointing out that “conservative” in my case means that I have passionately opposed Donald J. Trump and pioneered marriage equality, that I support legalized drugs, criminal-justice reform, more redistribution of wealth, aggressive action against climate change, police reform, a realist foreign policy, and laws to protect transgender people from discrimination. I was one of the first journalists in established media to come out. I was a major and early supporter of Barack Obama. I intend to vote for Biden in November.
It seems to me that if this conservatism is so foul that many of my peers are embarrassed to be working at the same magazine, then I have no idea what version of conservatism could ever be tolerated. And that’s fine. We have freedom of association in this country, and if the mainstream media want to cut ties with even moderate anti-Trump conservatives, because they won’t bend the knee to critical theory’s version of reality, that’s their prerogative. It may even win them more readers, at least temporarily. But this is less of a systemic problem than in the past, because the web has massively eroded the power of gatekeepers to suppress and control speech. I was among the first to recognize this potential for individual freedom of speech, and helped pioneer individual online media, specifically blogging, 20 years ago.
And this is where I’m now headed.
May 10, 2020
Quotulatiousness at sixteen
Blogging may be a stagnant backwater of the internet these days, but some of us have been polluting the pool with our blog posts for a long time … sixteen years in my particular case. I used to publish annual traffic figures, but the statistics plug-in I had been using since 2009 blew up spectacularly and I no longer have anything like a continuous series to point to. Over the last few years, I was regularly clocking in between one and two million “hits” in a year, but a significant portion of those were bots rather than actual human beings. As the years have gone by, I’ve actually written less and less for the blog, as the effort involved didn’t seem to generate much interest or reaction (the regular visitors to my comment section are a very small, select, elite crew … thanks, guys!)
Earlier anniversary postings:
- Fifteenth anniversary
- Fourteenth anniversary
- Thirteenth anniversary
- Twelfth anniversary
- Eleventh anniversary
- Tenth anniversary
- Ninth anniversary
- Eighth anniversary
- Seventh anniversary
- Sixth anniversary
Unfortunately, the first five years of postings — when I was merely a freeloading tenant on Jon P’s site … and eventually consuming some 90+% of his paid bandwidth and storage — don’t seem to be accessible any more, at least I haven’t been able to get access for quite some time:
- (Very belated) Fifth anniversary
- (Premature) Fourth anniversary (a few days later, I welcomed my 150,000th visitor)
- Third anniversary
- (Belated) Second anniversary
- First anniversary
May 5, 2020
QotD: Social media encourages autistic behaviour
The genetic fallacy, you’ll recall, is the inability to separate the idea from the speaker. Or, if you’re under age 40, it’s simply “communication,” as our public discourse nowadays proceeds in very little other than genetic fallacies. Try it for yourself. We all know what kind of reaction you’ll get in respectable circles if you say “You know, Donald Trump has a point about …”, but you can do it on “our side” of the fence, too. Watch: Obama was right about Race to the Top. No, really: Compared to W’s No Child Left Behind bullshit, pretty much anything short of letting kids be raised by wolves would’ve been better (and hey, even being raised by wolves worked out ok for Romulus and Remus). Even with the qualifier attached, almost everyone on “our side” instinctively bristles — we’ve been so conditioned by the words “Obama” and “race,” especially in close proximity, that we can’t help ourselves. Even I do it.
It’s especially bad for the younger generations who, as I keep arguing, have been effectively autismized (it’s a word) by social media. Twitter, especially, is so constructed that “replies” can come in hours, days, months, years later. Blogs too for that matter — one of the reasons we close the comments here after a few weeks is to prevent drive-by commenters clogging things up trying to re-litigate something from years ago. Modern “communication” must take place in discrete, contextless utterances. That being the case, understanding a statement in context is impossible — I repeat, impossible. So Lenin (or Hitler, or Mao, or William F. Buckley, or the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man) didn’t have a point about ___; because that requires understanding how his point fit into the larger context of his thought, his times, his culture, his world. None of that shit fits into a tweet, so we’re trained to respond to the name — Lenin (etc.) is either a good guy or a bad guy, full stop, so anything he says about anything must be good or bad, automatically.
I hardly need to elaborate on the effect this has on our public culture. If Our Thing really wants to get serious, the first thing any “organization,” no matter how loose, must do is: Ban social media.
Severian, “Education, the Genetic Fallacy, and the Spectrum”, Rotten Chestnuts, 2020-01-27.
January 31, 2020
QotD: The heyday of blogging
Steve H., “Cracking on Crackers”, Hog On Ice, 2005-01-21.
December 21, 2019
QotD: Blogging
Scott Adams, 2004-11-11.
August 4, 2019
Blog housekeeping notes
Sorry to anyone who tried to access the blog on Saturday morning, as it went down hard for about an hour after my WordPress statistics plug-in got holed below the waterline and had to be scuttled. I’ve been using it for several years without a problem, but somehow Saturday was the day it decided to stop working. A reader notified me on one of the social media sites that the blog wasn’t loading and I checked the dashboard to see a long list of fatal errors pop up. It looked like the initial problem was a call to a non-existent function in SQL which then caused a cascade of other uncaught errors and the blog no longer displayed for would-be readers. I switched to the troubleshooting tab and then looked at the details on the CyStats plug-in, and suddenly the answer appeared:
You may have to look really closely to see what the issue is…
I guess I’ll have to do without my old stats package now.
June 29, 2019
QotD: Blogging versus social media
Glenn “Instapundit” Reynolds, The Social Media Upheaval, 2019. (link goes to Althouse, who posted this quote based on the Kindle edition)
June 9, 2019
The blog as a modern “commonplace book”
I’ve been blogging continuously for over fifteen years, but I’ve never found — or even considered — a single unifying theme for the blog. There are consistencies over the years, like the QotD posts, but in general the blog acts as a place for me to note things that interest, excite, or agitate me. After my grandfather died in 1979, I inherited a few of his notebooks, which included scores of lists on all kinds of things … my grandmother said it was all gathered to help with crossword puzzles, but the range of information was much wider than you’d normally find in crosswords. I think, had he lived long enough, my grandfather would have been a dedicated blogger. The blogging world has a lot of blogs like mine, where the blogger notes seemingly random bits of information, and this is far from new: they used to be called “commonplace books“:
Anonymous mid-17th century manuscript containing poems by various authors, in various hands, including Shakespeare’s second sonnet.
Wikimedia Commons.
Commonplace books (or commonplaces) are a way to compile knowledge, usually by writing information into books. They have been kept from antiquity, and were kept particularly during the Renaissance and in the nineteenth century. Such books are essentially scrapbooks filled with items of every kind: recipes, quotes, letters, poems, tables of weights and measures, proverbs, prayers, legal formulas. Commonplaces are used by readers, writers, students, and scholars as an aid for remembering useful concepts or facts. Each one is unique to its creator’s particular interests but they almost always include passages found in other texts, sometimes accompanied by the compiler’s responses. They became significant in Early Modern Europe.
“Commonplace” is a translation of the Latin term locus communis (from Greek tópos koinós, see literary topos) which means “a general or common topic”, such as a statement of proverbial wisdom. In this original sense, commonplace books were collections of such sayings, such as John Milton’s example. Scholars now understand them to include manuscripts in which an individual collects material which have a common theme, such as ethics, or exploring several themes in one volume. Commonplace books are private collections of information, but they are not diaries or travelogues.
In 1685 the English Enlightenment philosopher John Locke wrote a treatise in French on commonplace books, translated into English in 1706 as A New Method of Making Common-Place-Books, “in which techniques for entering proverbs, quotations, ideas, speeches were formulated. Locke gave specific advice on how to arrange material by subject and category, using such key topics as love, politics, or religion. Commonplace books, it must be stressed, are not journals, which are chronological and introspective.”
By the early eighteenth century they had become an information management device in which a note-taker stored quotations, observations and definitions. They were used in private households to collate ethical or informative texts, sometimes alongside recipes or medical formulae. For women, who were excluded from formal higher education, the commonplace book could be a repository of intellectual references. The gentlewoman Elizabeth Lyttelton kept one from the 1670s to 1713 and a typical example was published by Mrs Anna Jameson in 1855, including headings such as Ethical Fragments; Theological; Literature and Art. Commonplace books were used by scientists and other thinkers in the same way that a database might now be used: Carl Linnaeus, for instance, used commonplacing techniques to invent and arrange the nomenclature of his Systema Naturae (which is the basis for the system used by scientists today). The commonplace book was often a lifelong habit: for example the English-Australian artist Georgina McCrae kept a commonplace book from 1828-1865.
May 10, 2019
Fifteen years of Quotulatiousness!
I’m not one of the original wave of bloggers, but I have been keeping this blog going pretty much continuously since 10 May 2004, which I think is pretty good going. If nothing else, I usually have a month of QotD entries scheduled along with daily 2:00am videos, so if I can’t get online for whatever reason, there’s at least a minimum of blog activity for regular visitors. Those visitors seem to be holding to the same rough volume as the last few years: just over 900,000 non-bot hits so far, which points to a likely two million+ hits by the end of December. Not too shabby for a very off-the-beaten-track blog after 15 years.
Earlier anniversary postings:
- Fourteenth anniversary
- Thirteenth anniversary
- Twelfth anniversary
- Eleventh anniversary
- Tenth anniversary
- Ninth anniversary
- Eighth anniversary
- Seventh anniversary
- Sixth anniversary
Unfortunately, the first five years of postings — when I was merely a freeloading tenant on Jon P’s site … and eventually consuming some 90+% of his paid bandwidth and storage — don’t seem to be accessible any more, at least I haven’t been able to get access for quite some time:
January 1, 2019
Blog traffic in 2018
As I try to remember to do every New Year, here’s a snapshot of the blog statistics gathered for me by the CyStats WordPress plug-in from 1 January to mid-morning 31 December (click to embiggenate):
As you can tell if you compare this to last year, CyStats have updated their UI so that relevant bits aren’t quite as easy to screencap.
Overall, the numbers are down a bit from 2017, but I still feel it’s worthwhile to carry on…
