[Rebecca Miller]

(Sorry this is so late) but I liked your post, Allison. I think when you say that to consider your privilege when reading digital media actually gestures at a greater idea. There are certain skills we are taught to instinctually use as English majors/humanists. One is to close read; you can’t make an argument without direct reference to the text you’re speaking of, which means you need to read at the level of word choice. Basically, we’re taught to be careful. And that methodology of “carefulness” is incredibly powerful. It means that readers, writers and texts communicate with each other with a knowledge of the power of words and ideas, and a sense of responsibility towards each other (not that a text can feel responsible to someone, but it can be responsible towards someone, and is part of this semiotic triangle of communication).

Now, what if we as a society recognized that this methodology of care/carefulness, employed by humanists in the close reading of texts, but also by scientists in conducting experiments, mathematicians in crunching numbers, etc. is a societal value we should be instilling and emphasizing? Couldn’t this help us towards a future of learning without racism, prejudice, sexism, etc. inhibiting us, even as these sentiments sometimes control us? Maybe this is an area in which we need to value humanistic methods and strategies more as possible solutions to solve societal problems, and need to talk in an interdisciplinary way. Like, share semiotics and paratext, but also careful measurements and the concept of variables, to all work together towards an ability to close-read each other and our world better.

[Rebecca Miller]

I’d like to respond briefly to the conversation about how nowadays, we often “believe anything negative anyone has to say about white people.” It’s interesting to consider how our digital paratext plays a role in that idea’s dispersion. We tend to think of the digital world as a space for marginalized people to organize and talk back to their oppressors. But, consider the spread of #BlackLivesMatter. It seems like hashtags are powerful tools that may even end up villianizing white people, not emphasizing that #AllLivesMatter too. However, consider the paratextual condition of twitter. It was created by white men. They wrote the code to create the site, and decided that hashtags could be used to “tag” your tweet, categorize it, or even color it in a certain light. You can’t escape from the fact that anything you write on twitter has paratext that was decided for you by white men. And, this is true for basically every social media site (Facebook, Instagram, etc.) This hegemony of paratext, which constricts the length of what you say, determines which images you post “violate community standards,” and even the background design around what you said, is then used to say something subversive. It’s using constrictions artistically. So what we perceive as overwhelming anti-white media is actually just minor pushes back against a system that is still controlled by white men. If you are aware of #BlackLivesMatter, that’s only because a white controlled space “allowed” that message to be spread. Basically my point is: white people are NOT being oppressed by images, text, or videos on the internet. They/we/I still control the paratext. Be careful not to mistake talking back and artistically maneuvering an oppressive system to make your voice heard as reverse racism. And, consider how the impression that white people are being oppressed was decided for you by digital paratext, or being unaccustomed to hearing white people severely and systemically criticized.

[Rebecca Miller]

To add to the discussion here, as well as the discussion in class, I would like to chime in that there is more in determining literary merit and/or what literature is than just author intent or audience reception. For example, there’s authorial identity, as well as something a little more wishy-washy, kind of a level of aesthetic skill. So, my personal journal, which may say something like “Woke up, had cereal, watched TV” probably wouldn’t be considered literature. For one, I’m not a famous or historically important person. Second, it’s clear that I have no journal writing skill, meaning that I didn’t say anything innovative, I have no “talent,” and I put little effort or time into what I wrote. These aren’t the best ways to consider literary validity, but they are real and often true.

BUT I also think it’s important to consider that even if we consider something “not literature,” that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re saying it’s unimportant. Like, a grocery list I write today may not be important in a literature sense, but maybe a cultural anthropologist would think it’s highly interesting. So, even if as literary people we find that our interests and skills don’t align with a certain text, that job may still be done by someone in another discipline. So, claiming the literariness of something can be dismissive, or it can channel text into another space that can make more use of it and value it more.

[Rebecca Miller]

I think our tendency towards recognizing individualism and kind of “big figures” in any accomplishment stems from our capitalistic ideas of ownership. We want recognition for our work! After all, if that doesn’t happen, how can we be assured we’ll be paid? Digital humanities is complicating that framework. Say a project is crowdsourced, and there’s honestly no one to recognize for the work. The work still got done, but the transaction of money or status for work didn’t happen. As Catherine pointed out, “Mass participation has the advantage of being able to, in many cases, reach a wider audience,” meaning the work done can be massive and incredibly valuable. And, Aran pointed out that in the case of huge projects, rising in prevalence in our digital age, one person wouldn’t be able to accomplish the task. So, is it okay for us to use crowdsource methods more and more? Or, would that be unwise because it would give people no possibility for recognition or money for doing work, and so threaten our economic system? Just some rhetorical questions this thread got me thinking about 🙂

[Rebecca Miller]

I really like the argument Melissa made about this question; the tension is no longer only between practical learning and book learning nowadays, but is perhaps tri-fold between practical learning, traditional book learning and non-traditional book learning (learning to “succeed on the internet or by using some sort of digital interface”). I think learning (which is a complicated term in and of itself) using digital tools combines the skill-set knowledge of physical learning with the factual or ideological knowledge gained by reading. Web-design, for example, requires a practical set of skills but also a certain amount of literacy, both linguistic and digital. Also, don’t forget that most digital learning is relatively free. A student wouldn’t need to run their parents into debt in order to learn if he/she could watch a how-to youtube video on the subject. Maybe digital learning is a marriage that would please Thoreau, and also equalizes access to education. Thank you for complicating Thoreau’s binary Melissa!

[Rebecca Miller]

I liked this original question, as well as your response that “media has made it very easy for us to access any knowledge or questions we wish to know.” The distinction you seem to be making is between knowledge and wisdom; we possess the former, the ancient philosophers possessed the latter. Maybe the huge wealth of knowledge available to us via the internet has made us less able to critically think for ourselves, or problem-solve effectively. But maybe there are other skills we have gained, such as how to prioritize information better, or how to be more open to a lot of ideas or points of view presented to us at once. Do you think these skills are worth the loss in personal problem-solving ability?

[Rebecca Miller]

To elaborate on my last post, I noticed connections between Jason Farman’s article “The Myth of the Disconnected Life” and Thoreau’s ideas about how words and tools should influence day-to-day lives. He of course advocates the close and careful reading of the classics in “Reading,” I would argue so that people color their current lives with the wisdom of old people, places, and times. In “Sounds” he perhaps more specifically addresses the palimpsest of this idea, saying, ‘…for I lived like the Puri Indians, of whom it is said that “for yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by pointing backward for yesterday, forward for to-morrow, and overhead for the passing day.”’ He is living a day-to-day life that isn’t rooted firmly in the present, but looks backward to past experiences and forward to new ones; in short, he thinks while he works. I ask how this is different than what Farman describes when he mentions <i>[murmur]</i>, a project that lets you explore the history of places you visit, such as buildings, streets, or landmarks. The type of technology we have today, which tends be of the “always-on” persuasion (here’s looking at you smartphones) achieves this same goal. We can live in the past, present, and future, with access to each only a google search away. I wonder if Thoreau would approve.

[Author]

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