Digital Humanities at Geneseo

The other day I was browsing through a couple of different websites when I stumbled upon this meme.

First off, the quote fits perfectly with our class. Anything involving Thoreau is almost always relevant to what we are talking about everyday. However, there is a whole other reason why this quote, and to be more precise this meme, stood out to me.

For a while I’ve heard various people say that “our” or “my” generation doesn’t have the focus or determination to read a book cover to cover. I’ve heard many people shake their heads in annoyance and mutter how all of the classics are going to waste, since the “kids these days” don’t have the patience to read “good” literature. So many people talk as if the era of the novel is coming to a swift end.

And, in a way, I can see where they are coming from. According to www.theamericanscholar.org, from 1970-2003 the number of men and women studying English literature in the United States of America has dropped from 7.6% to 3.9%, and that number continues to dwindle. The humanities in general are seeing its figures go down compared to the sciences and business.

However, the optimistic side of me has hope. Even though a number of people aren’t deciding to study literature (their loss!), that doesn’t necessarily mean that younger people aren’t being exposed to classic works or writers.

This is where “memes” come in. An Internet meme is, “is an idea, style or action which spreads, often as mimicry, from person to person via the Internet, as with imitating the concept.” We’ve all seen them one way or another.

If you’re anything like me, since the moment you got word of the missing Malaysian airplane, you’ve been checking for updates every spare second you get. There were times when watching the news felt more like viewing an early episode of Lost; jets that big don’t just disappear. At least part of the mystery came to an end today when the Malaysian Prime Minister announced that authorities are “assuming beyond a reasonable doubt” that the plane went down somewhere in the Southern Indian Ocean. Upon reading this I wondered about the families of those who were on the plane, much like I have since first learning of the incident. Are they relieved to have this answer, even if it wasn’t the one they’d hoped for? In this case, is bad news really better than no news?

As I browsed articles for information, this one in particular, it didn’t take long before I read something with immediate shock value. It’s right there in the first sentence: “The families of passengers aboard the missing Malaysia Airlines jet have been sent text messages telling them that the plane has been ‘lost.'”

Text messages?! Seriously?! These people have been in agony for weeks wondering about the fate of their loved ones, and Malaysia Airlines decides to confirm their worst fears via text message? What kind of callous person could have possibly decided that this was a good idea? Yes, informing the families of 239 passengers is a daunting task, but when it’s a disaster of this magnitude, you’d think they would take the time to do it tactfully. According to one article, most of the family members were still located in Kuala Lumpur waiting for information, and yet they received this text message only minutes before the rest of the world got the news. I couldn’t help but think of some of our discussions in class about how technology has the potential to dehumanize us.

When a loved one dies, the news is typically delivered by word of mouth, whether from a doctor, medical professional, or a closer family member. The person delivering the news is able to offer their sympathy and support and can tailor it to the person they’re telling to make it appropriate and easier if possible. Grief is one of the most basic human emotions and we rely on sympathetic, responsive human contact to get us through. Witnesses said they heard screaming and and crying coming from rooms where the families were gathered. At least one person is reported to have fainted upon hearing the news. Communicating information through SMS message, while convenient, is not appropriate for a sensitive situation like this. I understand that the business of Malaysia Airlines is transportation, not grief counseling, and that they are likely much more concerned with bigger media matters, but as human beings they should’ve known better. It is clear from these families’ shock that they still held hope that the passengers would be found alive. Delivering what is possibly the worst news of a person’s life via text message goes against the rules of social courtesy and in my opinion shows a real lack of consideration for others’ feelings. In times like this people need to be united by the all too common experience of losing a loved one. A mass text message is a cold replacement for the warm, sympathetic hug each family member would ideally receive.

As a bit of an afterthought, while I was still mulling over what I wanted to write, I came across this post on the “Portraits of Boston” Facebook page (for those who don’t know, it’s a photo blog much like Humans of New York). Hearing (or reading, rather) what this man had to say about how disconnected we are as humans solidified for me the problem with the text that was sent to the families of the Malaysia Airlines victims. It furthers our culture of disconnection from one another. We hear about how much technology has brought us together, but the connections it fosters are usually fairly shallow. As the man in the picture said, “people are yearning for deep human connection. When we have it, we identify with the person or people. We better connect to each other or we will become more and more dehumanized.”

For this post I wanted to focus on a more personal viewpoint on connecting reading with technology.  I grew up relishing the concept of a book. From the feel of the pages, to the smell of a freshly printed novel.  I savored every chance I got to flip the page.  Each turn of the page was an accomplishment in my eyes. I was making my way, that much closer to the ending of the novel.  I had linked the idea of books always having a binding.  There was no other way.

It was not until landing a job at my public library did I start to embrace the relationship between books and technology.  I was quickly introduced to the most popular section of our library.  The audio book layer. Watching the differing ages of patrons that checked out audio books sparked my curiosity.  We even had books on tape for young children to help with the introduction to literacy. People were getting excited more frequently about reading because of this intermixed connection with technology.

My judgment kept me from realizing what advantages technology introduced to young children.  Though it is pleasurable to hold onto a hard copy of a book and mark it with the questions and ideas that arise, technology has introduced convenience to adults on the go and has increased the starting age of having children comprehending and reciting words on a page.

I wanted to discuss any indifference’s people might have had while first embracing the concept of using technology to read books. I still lack the companion of a Kindle or Nook and do not see one in my near future, but this class has defiantly warmed and opened my mind to different viewpoints on the advantages we have been blessed with by the new technology that swarms us.

This is a revolutionary concept as “technology has reinvigorated an art form instead of crushing it”.

Technology is sparking peoples interest in books and getting more people to start reading and developing excitement in what they are engaging themselves in. We are starting to uncover the fact that more people are starting to relish in listening comprehension in addition to visual. What are your thoughts on Audio books, Kindles or ibooks? Were you accepting in the combination of technology and text? Did it spark a new found admiration in reading? Did it hinder a previous admiration?

I just got very excited about a New Yorker blog post I stumbled across. The writer, Casey N. Cep, is specifically addressing the “National Day of Unplugging,” in which participants spent a day without technology, and posted photos of themselves holding signs about what they did with that free time. She dismisses the idea that this movement is truly meaningful, and cited different ways in which technology enhances our lives, and why attempts to “escape” it are ultimately unsustainable.

Citing statistics regarding relationships forged online or the Pope’s perspective on the validity of online identities, Cep argues that the concept of a “real” world versus a “virtual” one is an inaccurate binary. She believes that, in its essence, turning off technology is just an extension of the age-old journey to find a “core” and escape “the hustle and bustle of life.” Here’s one quote I found particularly provocative:

“But how quickly the digital age turned into the age of technological anxiety, with our beloved devices becoming something to fear, not enjoy. What sex was for the Puritans, technology has become for us. We’ve focussed our collective anxiety on digital excess, and reconnecting with the ‘real’ world around us represents one effort to control it.”

I do understand this sense that technology is out of control, and needs to be somehow regulated to curb a feeling of over-excess. I’ve felt it myself sometimes when I’m sitting with facebook, twitter, my email, a homework assignment, some syllabuses, etc. etc. open on different windows and tabs on my laptop; my eyes start to blur, and I begin to day-dream about how simple everything would be if only technology would just go away.

Cep has an alternative solution in her article. Instead of an over-excess of technology, or rigid nonexistence, we should consider ways to make technology work for us. How can technology function in ways that aren’t overwhelming and socially isolating? How can people be in front of screens and still be healthy and happy? She says, “[b]ut let’s not mistake such experiments in asceticism for a sustainable way of life. For most of us, the modern world is full of gadgets and electronics, and we’d do better to reflect on how we can live there than to pretend we can live elsewhere.” Taking a break from technology is never forever; people participating in the National Day of Unplugging have no intention of going off the grid. So what’s a sustainable, practical way technology can be improved as a permanent fixture of everyday life?

I recently had a conversation with my mom about this. She was saying that while watching tv with me, it feels like we’re doing something together. Like, I’m watching tv, she’s watching tv, we’re watching tv together, almost as if there are three people in a room all having a conversation. However, in the case of laptops or phones, it feels like I’m communicating with the screen while she’s trying to communicate with me. Three participants, but no well-rounded conversation. This may be because of the nature of internet-related activities vs. television viewing (the former active, the latter passive), or it could be the ergonomic superiority of one over the other.

If so, how can a computer screen be enhanced or tweaked to become a better fixture in living rooms, dining rooms, etc? How can it have better manners (excuse my cheesy personification) and not hog or interrupt social interactions? It’s not unreasonable for us to desire these improvements, but it is unreasonable for us to assume they can’t be made.

Of course, decisions about technology usage are subject to personal preference and need. But, specifically referring to the use of technology in literary studies, I think proactive, optimistic attempts and improvement are certainly more useful than rejection and denial. Keep in mind that if the Pope has 3.81 million followers on twitter, there’s definitely no turning back from the digital age we live in!

Reddit (the self-proclaimed “front page of the Internet”) is a website where users can create virtual forums to discuss/ask/post/help/collaborate etc. regarding any topic under the sun. Do you like cute puppies? Visit the Aww subreddit. Curious as to why men have beards and women don’t? The geniuses over at Explainlikeimfive will give you a thorough and easy to understand answer.

One particularly fascinating subreddit is called “IAMA,” where noteworthy people begin a discussion thread entitled, “I am a [insert impressive thing here], ask me anything.” And by ‘noteworthy,’ I mean the threads range from “I am a 9/11 survivor” to “I am Colin Mockery” to “I am a black teen adopted by an all-white family.” Anyone with a (free) reddit account can post a question, and the original poster will respond to the interesting ones. 

Today, Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the World Wide Web, posted on the IAMA subreddit to celebrate the 25th anniversary of his creation. The title reads, “I am Tim Berners-Lee. I invented the WWW 25 years ago and I am concerned and excited about its future. AMA.” 2,700 comments later, the discussion thread now holds not only interesting content from Berners-Lee himself, but insights on the WWW from all around the wide world.

If you have a few minutes, consider perusing this discussion thread. We’ve spoken about the WWW in class, and we’ve certainly spent a lot of time talking about the evolution and future of technology, so I thought this might be of interest.

I hope everyone found something entertaining to do with all this snow!

Co-blogger Katie Allen recently discussed the implications of anonymous comments in public online conversation. But what about when a person’s name is instead associated with a conversation never intended to be public?

Yesterday, Peter Schmidt of The Chronicle of Higher Education covered the story of Rachel Slocum, a non-tenured professor at the University of Wisconson at La Crosse.  Controversy ^[1] over Slocum’s supposedly partisan email to students, which was about how the government shutdown would prevent them from completing their assignments, eventually bought her a public rebuke by her campus’s chancellor. And all of this was over a message that was, at least intended to be, for a private audience: her class.

Here’s my (somewhat dry) response to the controversy:

Someone call Roger Kimball. Oh, wait, Rachel Slocum isn’t even a TENURED radical… MT @Chronicle http://t.co/pjzsjxcGVj

— Gregory Palermo (@gregory_palermo) March 11, 2014

All this TEI, XML, HTML, NFL, TMZ…what?! It’s got my head spinning! Being a kid born in the early 90s, I grew up learning a significant amount about technology as it was invented and introduced to the public. Kind of like when my Dad recollects waiting for the next Superman comic to be released, or how it was basically a national holiday when The Wizard of Oz was on TV in color once a year, many people my age express the same sentiments about their new video games or cell phones. My generation is readily equipped to understand the way these new technologies function.

I used to consider myself to have a leg up on most people in the technology department. My parents both worked at Kodak for the duration of my childhood and into my adolescence, and our household was always a well oiled machine of the latest cameras, PCs, and other gadgets and knick-knacks that we got to test out. I grew up learning that the problem can’t necessarily be fixed with “esc” or “ctrl-alt-del” and how to properly troubleshoot, that backing up your system is important and should be done regularly, and that you can never get enough RAM. During my last three years of college, it’s become clear that all those things are basically common knowledge, and the reality of my knowledge compared to others was usually less…a lot less.

Because where does interaction with technology take place? Freakin’ everywhere! In my little world, desktop computing was the end-all be-all. Now there are smart phones, the endless slew of apple products, eReaders, even touch-screen check ins at the doctor’s office! My set of skills is horridly outdated when put up against all the other possible sets of skills applicable to all of these other things. Only goes to show…there is currently lots to learn, and there always will be more to learn!

As a student of language, I use the analogy “to speak” quite often. I crack the joke “I don’t speak car” to tell someone who tells me they drive a Chevy Equinox Jeep Mazda CR2750 Honda Cavalier that I have no idea what that means or looks like. So, given the above, do I “speak” technology? I wouldn’t say that I’m fluent, but I would hazard that I have a basic command. If I was “dropped there” and had to ask for directions to the nearest train station, I’d make it.

Ok, ok. So enough with the analogies. I ‘get’ technology. Most people my age ‘get’ technology. As far as ‘speaking’ it though, analogies aside, we’ve learned that there is an actual language, of sorts, to this stuff. Hyper text markup language. Extensible markup language. Text encoding. These are all called languages, and they are the language that our technology speaks! It’s fascinating, really.

What’s most fascinating to me is that I’m capable of using all of this technology without having a good command of the actual technology languages. How’s that! It brings me back to the start of the circle, but with questions. Sure, technology comes second nature to people my age. But these languages sure don’t…is that generational, or will it always be the case? Are there kids in elementary school who are being educated in and on technology, being taught HTML, etc? The technology languages, while they feel foreign to me…are they second nature to the next generation as operating a smart phone is second nature to me?

The Beginning of the End of Online Commenting?

In a recent class discussion, we touched on the topics of censorship, relevancy, equality, and anonymity when thinking about who should have a voice in certain online situations and what they should be allowed to share. USA Today published an article earlier this week called “Online commenting: A right to remain anonymous?“, which addresses some of these issues. The piece talks about how Internet culture has been forced to change in light of the way users are behaving; in the second half of 2013, The Huffington Post opted to ban anonymous comments from its site, and Popular Science surprisingly stopped allowing any form of commenting whatsoever. According to the USA Today article, this shift was in an attempt to “breathe civility back into what many see as the Wild West of the Web.”

But Does Banning or Censoring Comments Solve the Problem?

The short answer to this question is, “not really.” The nature of the Web makes it possible to share and comment on just about anything, whether or not owners, writers, and publishers like it. Similar to how digital versions of literature allow texts to become fluid which enables two-way “communication,” readers who are eager to join into the conversation find commenting to be a useful vehicle. Sites such as Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, and many others allow users to share their opinions on content independent of its original source, and if the commenter is using a screen name that does not connect to their identity, then it’s still relatively anonymous. This post on Reddit discusses why it is unsafe to use one’s actual name online, responding to one user’s question, “When commenting online, why don’t you use your real name?” Though it is clear some people are concerned about Web safety for purposes like identity theft, to me, it seems more likely to be an issue of accountability; when a user leaves a comment anonymously, there is a sort of pseudo-invincibility that occurs, because the user knows that the consequences of whatever they’ve said are almost sure to be limited. So perhaps it is still an issue of safety, but a different kind of safety that protestors, trolls, cyberbullies, and just-plain-rude commenters are worried about.

Pros and Cons of Anonymity and the Effect of Removing Comments

Interestingly, around the same time last year when Popular Science and The Huffington Post so controversially changed their commenting policies, an article came out in The New Yorker called “The Psychology of Online Comments.” This piece deals with “cyberpsychology,” and makes reference to a study done in 2004 in which one researcher coins the term “Online Disinhibition Effect“: “The theory is that the moment you shed your identity the usual constraints on your behavior go, too,” says the New Yorker article. (Four years later, in 2008, another study came out entitled Self-disclosure on the Internet: the effects of anonymity of the self and the other. Admittedly, I haven’t read either of these studies closely, but the fact that they [and probably countless others] exist means that researchers are identifying a measurable phenomenon worth looking into and talking about, because as we have discussed in class, technology shapes people, including their thoughts and behaviors.) The article in The New Yorker goes on to reference a study in which this was found: “Anonymity made a perceptible difference: a full fifty-three per cent of anonymous commenters were uncivil, as opposed to twenty-nine per cent of registered, non-anonymous commenters. Anonymity, Santana concluded, encouraged incivility.”

Despite the notable ramifications of anonymity, the article also mentions some positive effects of being anonymous online, such as increased participation, a greater sense of community identity, and boosts in creative thinking and problem solving. Though face-to-face communication has been found to produce greater “satisfaction,” anonymous online communication allows for greater risk-taking for individuals. Additionally, The New Yorker shows that anonymous comments tend to be taken less seriously, and therefore rarely impact the course of a conversation in terms of changing someone’s initial perceptions. This is probably because it is more difficult to affirm the credibility of an anonymous user.

In many of our discussions about Walden, we identity contemporary issues as being “old wine in new bottles,” because we recognize that many common problems have always existed, but simply look different because of how people and technology have evolved; this situation is no different. The following quote comes from the same article I’ve been discussing from The New Yorker: In a study, “The authors found that the nastier the comments, the more polarized readers became about the contents of the article, a phenomenon they dubbed the ‘nasty effect.’ But the nasty effect isn’t new, or unique to the Internet. Psychologists have long worried about the difference between face-to-face communication and more removed ways of talking – the letter, the telegraph, the phone. Without the traditional trappings of personal communication, like non-verbal cues, context, and tone, comments can become overly impersonal and cold.”

When thinking about whether or not banning comments will truly solve the problem, an interesting note to keep in mind is that in doing so, the idea of “shared reality” becomes lessened, and therefore the interest surrounding that particular content decreases as well. The New Yorker article states, “Take away comments entirely, and you take away some of that shared reality, which is why we often want to share or comment in the first place. We want to believe that others will read and react to our ideas. What the University of Wisconsin-Madison study may ultimately show isn’t the negative power of a comment in itself but, rather, the cumulative effect of a lot of positivity or negativity in one place, a conclusion that is far less revolutionary.” It seems that this sort of “mob mentality” is nothing new, it merely looks different because it’s on a screen. But is it any more or less acceptable this way? Especially relevant to consider is that fact that the members of this cyber mob very well might be hidden behind the shield of anonymity.

But What about My Rights? What about Free Speech?

Coming back now to the USA Today article from this week, one significant debate that is arising out of the comment bans is whether or not it impedes on civil liberties to do so. The article quotes senior staff attorney Matt Zimmerman as saying, “I think (anonymity is) an important legal right that needs to be protected.” Despite this, “Zimmerman acknowledges that there is no legal issue with sites deciding what kind of commenting culture they want to cultivate, and that opportunities for people to contribute anonymously are abundant.” So the right to decide what (if any) types of comments are allowed on a site legally belongs to the people who run the site, a probably obvious point. Of course this opens the door to issues of control and censorship, which is another topic altogether. But what about free speech?

In terms of free speech, limitations exist no matter what the context, and the specific problem with being anonymous is accountability. The Huffington Post defended their decision to remove anonymous comments by saying, “Freedom of expression is given to people who stand up for what they’re saying and who are not hiding behind anonymity.” The Web allows users to wear masks in a way non-digital spaces do not, and if someone is extremely tech-savvy, they can get away with saying almost anything without leaving a trace. For a simple example, digital footprints become muddied when someone uses a public computer in a busy place without any surveillance equipment – this example doesn’t even begin to skim the surface of other methods of covering up one’s identity online. John Wooden once said, “The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is watching.” What about when people are watching, but don’t know who the man is? Can the same be said for him in that situation? If so, does a user still have the right to free speech without the ability to be identified or held accountable for his or her actions in cyberspace? I assume legislation will have to become much more specific about this in the future, especially if issues of diffused responsibility get too out of hand. Or do you think they are already?

We’ve talked a lot about how digital technology affects our interpretation of texts.  We’ve also talked about how it alters the way in which we read texts by changing the medium through which those texts are delivered or on which they are assessed.

But what about changing the actual makeup of the text itself?  Check out this new reading technology called Spritz.  The technology’s developers aim to improve reading speed by making it completely unnecessary for the reader to move his or her eyes from line to line, or even from word to word; each word appears, instead, in a “redicle” (a play on words between ‘red’ and ‘reticle’) in the reader’s field of vision.  In addition, the app centers each word on what Spritz calls its “Optimal Recognition Point” (ORP), which Spritz claims cuts down on the time that takes for the brain to decipher the word.

Spending thirty seconds or so with the demo is certainly an…eye-opening experience (sorry for that one).  This Elite Daily article encapsulates the technology’s efficiency, and the implications of that efficiency, with its headline: “This Insane App Will Allow you to Read Novels in Under 90 Minutes.”  Sounds like a dream come true for anyone taking multiple 300 or 400 level Geneseo English courses.  It’s easy to see how Spritz could prevent fatigue and distraction while reading, since the technology makes reading is less physical work (not to mention, it’s hard for a reader to be distracted by a flashing ad in his or her periphery when the flashing thing is actually the text itself).  Anticipating fears that reading this quickly would prevent readers from actually getting anything out of the text that they’re being presented, Spritz also claims that their technology improves reading comprehension.  The company argues that the time that a reader would usually spend scanning a text with his or her eye is instead spent on processing the content that it conveys.

But what is lost by not having words that are arranged on a page, be that a paper page or digital page?  As English majors, we are aware that the meaning of a text is as much shaped by its form as its content.  Under the Spritz system of reading, poems would lose line breaks and any enjambment.  There seems to be no convenient way, either, to do the returning to previous lines that such enjambment often impels.  And forget about concrete poetry or any other work that relies heavily on graphical codes.  Assuming that the technology is intended for longer pieces of prose that demand (arguably) less attention to sentence-level form, this may not be an issue.  I also wonder, however, how having a constant and electronically-set reading pace will affect the reader’s reception of meter in poetry and prose alike.

Thoughts?