Friday, July 05, 2013

The Two Webs

There are two dialogs on human behavior (which includes political, economic, and social behavior) taking place on the web. In effect, there are two webs.

One web consists of data on human behavior and commentary about this data. This one connects some folks in academia to folks in policy circles and the private sector around the world. This is Big Data.

The advantages of this mode of inquiry is that it harnesses the power of new media technologies to provide more information to help improve our predictive power when trying to understand something as enormously complex as individual and collective human behavior. Many of the critiques of quantitative study of human behavior were grounded in the fact that studies simply didn't have enough information to predict and explain the variance in behavior. Whereas other sciences (physics, chemistry) had enough information about a system to predict outcomes within that system, social sciences did not. But if we were to assume, for a moment, that a team of researchers had access to every single bit of information about every human thought, feeling, or behavior for thousands of years, then that team's ability to predict human behavior would be comparable, I think, to those in other sciences. With better predictions come better answers to questions: how best to minimize suffering, or the spread of disease, or human's impact on the environment, or whatever.

Of course, this mode of inquiry is not without its flaws (or at least perceived flaws). The collection and analysis of so much data on human behavior is viewed as being exploitative in some way: those collecting the information benefit and those who are the subjects do not. There are privacy issues: privacy is seen as a prerequisite to mental and emotional health as well as a means of maintaining some power over determining the course of your life (the actual value of privacy would be difficult to determine within this purely quantified conversation about human behavior). There is also the fear that someone with enough information about human behavior will be able to manipulate people to suit their ends (but if those collecting and analyzing data discuss findings freely and don't hoard secrets, this critique doesn't make much sense to me). It can easily be abused by people thinking there's a causal relationship when then there is only a correlational one. Statistics, when misused, create the illusion of certainty. Statistics could always be misused, but the more powerful and widespread they become, the more likely misuse might be and the damage that could be done.

You might call this the rational web. It views behaviors and events as probablistic (or it should, anyway) and it takes into account the degree to which outcomes are affected. If, say, it was determined that people's political party identification determined the amount they were paid when controlling for occupation, abilities, etc., you could find an answer to the question of how much difference it made in terms of pay (maybe Republicans make $4000 more on average when controlling for other relevant variables). In fact, there is an expectation that you answer the "how much" question.

The other web consists of rhetoric: emotional appeals to pre-existing, deeply held beliefs about human behavior. The most commonly used technique here is to select a few emotionally charged stories and try to get the audience to empathize with them. As access to the web has increased, it has become easier to find a subject (that is, the individual at the center of the story) whose situation exemplifies the pre-existing beliefs about human behavior held by the author of the story and the intended audience. Its easier to find the emotionally charged stories, the one or 3 or 100 personal stories that, when you look at parts of them the right way, support your pre-existing belief that, say, capitalism or socialism is harmful or that a certain policy does more harm than good. This technique connects some other folks in academia with the public at large, particularly disenfranchise members of the public worldwide.

Here, I think one possible danger of the wide-spread use of this technique might be that the echo chamber effect (where certain factions become less able to take the perspective of others and become more hostile towards others) gets stronger. Confirmation bias runs amok, and fewer people take into account new information in order to make better decisions. Any holder of an opinion, no matter how wacky, can find others supporting their opinion. This social support, this sense that one is not alone in one's beliefs, is essential to the persistence or propagation of an idea or ideology. Even if one is in the minority, all one has to do is draw an analogy to a group that was in the minority that eventually became the majority (the rebelling colonists in early America or civil rights crusaders in the later 1950's) in order to justify one's beliefs.

You might call this the emotional web. Rather than being probablistic, it is principled. It rarely asks the question "how racist is a statement?" or "how much privacy is being sacrificed?" or "how much freedom is the right amount of freedom"? In this way, it seems irreconcilable with the rational web.

You can't easily categorize certain websites as one or the other. Two of my favorite news sites - the New York Times and Slate - have some stories that appeal to statistics and analyses of statistics and other stories (usually editorials) that appeal to emotion by cherry-picking individual stories. In fact, a journalistic standard seems to be to combine the two: start with an individual's story and then zoom out to the larger trend. Hook the audience with emotion and convince their inner skeptic with data.

Still, I can see, at the very least, certain blogs that are more emotional or more rational, and it would be interesting to see if certain people gravitated toward either emotional/rhetoric arguments or rational/data-driven ones. Last month, I saw a great paper at the International Communication Association's annual conference by Brian Weeks titled "Partisan enclaves or diverse repertoires? A network approach to the political media environment" that suggested that the self-selection ideological bias (dems watch only MSNBC, repubs watch only Fox News) is a misconception and that personal media repertoires are more diverse, at least ideologically, than many believe. They may be diverse (or rather, balanced) in terms of their emotional or rational content as well. But maybe they are not, in which case we really are two different groups of people having two fundamentally different conversations about human behavior. Definitely an avenue worth exploring.

Tuesday, July 02, 2013

Current-cy

What, exactly, do you lose when you lose the internet? This guy didn't use the Internet for a year. What was he missing, exactly? Why did he want to do this? What was he sick of? Maybe he was sick of the present, the constant present.

Generally, I think its totally unproductive (and all too common in academia) to start talking about high falutin' nebulous concepts like "constant present" without grounding it in actual experience. In fact, this whole idea of constant present-ness came to me when I was reading through my students' last media use journals of the spring semester, in which they reflected on their media use habits and considered ways in which they could change them. So it arose from an observation of others' experiences as well as a consideration of what the absence of  some medium/media would be like.

It occurred to me that most media content is "current" or "present" content. It may not always be "news" in the traditional sense. It may concern what is going on in the lives of our friends or something they are thinking about at that moment.

Take a moment to think about every media experience you had today so far. How much of it would fit into these categories (which, I believe, all refer to or are part of the present)?


  • News
  • Events in people's lives that happened within the past week
  • People's reactions to news events (an extension of news)
  • Reactions to what others are saying about their lives (an extended conversation)
  • TV shows as they air for the first time (like Game of Thrones) and the conversations around them

It appears that a lot of our media use is part of a collective experience of the present or a collective conversation about the present.

What about non-current media experiences: movies that came out years ago, novels or research articles or essays from years ago. Do these make up a smaller portion of our media diets and if so, are we any the poorer for it? What's different about these experiences with media experiences that are not directly connected to the present?

These experiences seem somehow more solitary, and perhaps more intimate, to me. As a reader/viewer/listener, you feel a sense of one-on-one connection with the filmmaker, writer, or characters, even if you can't wait to go online and blog or tweet about it later.

You're also a bit more outside the sway of current social forces. Of course, all of our thoughts and feelings are influenced by current trends in thought and the collective mood of the culture, but when you're experiencing some media message from the past, your thoughts are less of a reflection of everyone else's thoughts at that time. Online, we all talk about the same things at the same time, even if we have different viewpoints about those things; it's agenda setting on a much grander scale, applying not just to news but to all aspects of our lives via social media. Stepping outside the stream of the present that we experience via most of our media diet means striking out on our own to find our own topics of interest.

Maybe having a greater portion of our lives comprised of experiences and conversations of current events has no ill effects in and of itself. Maybe all it does is create a thirst for the past, which we associate with permanence, in contrast with the ethereal, unpredictable, novel stream of the present. Maybe this thirst for the past and permanence drives us toward religion with its ancient roots.

The experience of dipping into the past by seeing a great movie that has no connection to the present, if we do this too often, can be escapism, an attempt to hide in another world because things aren't going well in the real, present world, a way of giving up, disconnecting in the worst sense. But dipping into the past, getting out of sync on purpose, has its place.

This is all the more unexpected because we have greater and greater access to media experiences from the past. It is easier than it has ever been before to dip into the past, our own personal past, or entertainment experiences from the past. And yet we do not do this all that often, I suspect, preferring the virtual company of a conversation about the present. The ability to sample the past and to combine ideas from various eras and places, I think, is just as much a creative act as trying to think of something new.