Itisi

The nebulous ramblings; grammatical & punctuational experiments of a girl born on the fifth of November

Tag: Jan Moir

Thoughts on the regulation of blogging

If you follow the UK news you may have noticed the story about journalist, Rod Liddle, being censured by the Press Complaints Commission (PCC) on the grounds of inaccuracy. Oddly, this story has been spun into something far more wide-ranging by certain elements of the mainstream media (msm), with some publications asking if it should lead to the regulation of blogging. Not entirely sure why, because Liddle is not a blogger, he’s a journalist who sometimes happens to have his work published on a blog. There is a difference.

Anyhow, I’ve been pondering the subject, and here are my thoughts for your perusal; I’d love to know what your thoughts are, so feel free to share them in the comments.

Should blogging be regulated? No. I can understand the arguments for professional bloggers to have an accreditation body, similar to the National Union of Journalists, which would not only provide guidelines but other benefits such as legal protection. However, I strongly disagree with the idea that anyone who sets up on blogspot and posts about what they had for breakfast should be forced to join up. That idea is ludicrous. The wonderful thing about blogging is that it gives everyone a voice, even if they choose to use it to discuss cornflakes.

If casual bloggers were forced to jump through hoops before they were allowed to share their thoughts with the world far fewer would make the effort which would, in effect, stifle free speech for all but those who were prepared to tick boxes, send off subscription fees and abide by guidelines they probably had no say in writing. Of course, this means there will be always be bloggers who go beyond the pale, but the rest of the blogosphere is free to criticise and rebut what they say. And that is how it works: someone says something daft; the rest of us point and laugh.

If anything, compulsory regulation would lead to a more polarised and venomous blogosphere. Most hobbyists would be deterred by the legalese and bureaucracy, leaving only those with extremely strong opinions; the moderate middle ground would not be around to challenge them.

Should bloggers be regulated by the PCC (or similar bodies in other countries)? Absolutely not! The idea that bloggers should be covered by a body set up to control journalists is ridiculous. Just because the two groups have some skills in common does not mean they are the same thing at all. Nurses and doctors share many skills, but if anyone wants to pop over the next Royal College of Nursing conference and suggest nurses should be governed by the General Medical Council … well, I’ll just say good luck with that.

If bloggers are ever regulated it should be by an organisation that comes from within blogging. The msm regularly demonstrate their complete lack of understanding of how the blogosphere works, with most still seeing it as merely an extension of traditional printed media.

There seems to be a mindset that says blogging was populated by bumbling amateurs for the first ten years or so of it’s existence, but now the professionals have deigned to take an interest the bumblers – us – should give up and stick to commenting on their words of wisdom instead. Once again, this is odd. We are the professionals here, whether we’re paid or not. We are the ones who know how it all works, we speak the lingo, we understand the protocol and etiquette.

If you need evidence of their inability to ‘get it’ you only have to look at the number of journos who say things like, ‘I just wrote a blog’, when they mean they wrote a post*. Or, the even greater number who never venture into commentland because they can’t break out of the mindset that tells them they do the speaking and we do the listening. This reluctance to enter into conversation is one of the biggest differences between the journalism and blogging.

So should we allow ourselves to be taken into the fold of journalism? No. Why on earth would we want to tie ourselves to an industry that would always see us as second rate journalists, rather than first class bloggers? Why would we want to be governed by a group who have only a minimal understanding of what we actually do?

Why would bloggers even want to be associated with journalists? The PCC may be basking in praise following their verdict on Rod Liddle, but they didn’t exactly cover themselves in glory when they pronounced on Jan Moir, even though her piece was just as inaccurate**. Of course, there are exceptions, but on the whole journalism is now seen as the realm of politically biased, celebrity obsessed gutter-scrapers, so much so, the question should be reversed. Instead of asking if bloggers should join the ranks of journalists, it would more appropriate if we were encouraging ethical journalists to describe themselves as bloggers. Admittedly, they’d have to deal with the blank looks when they tell people what they do, but they’d be able to hold their heads up knowing no one thinks they make a living by raking through other peoples’ dirty laundry, either literally or metaphorically.

* I’m often tempted to comment saying something like ‘what? A whole blog? In a single morning? You truly are talented’.

** Apart from her nasty insinuations about Stephen Gately, she claimed that, “Healthy and fit 33-year-old men do not just climb into their pyjamas and go to sleep on the sofa, never to wake up again”. The trouble with that is, they do, more often than many people realise. A friend of my brothers died that way aged only 29; it makes me very angry to think anyone could be allowed to dismiss medical evidence in an attempt to use such tragedies to validate their own malice.

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On fish, Jan Moir, superheroes and jammy spoons

Often, if I see subjects I’d like to mention here, I make little notes to refresh my memory when the time comes to write the post. This week I did that, and while most of my scrawlings still make sense, I’m blowed if I know why I jotted down the words ‘jammy spoon’. I’ve been racking my brain all afternoon and I still can’t figure out why I thought you needed to know about such a thing. So, sorry, no jammy spoons for you. However, you do get this:

- From Monday, your blogger will be donning her editorial hat over at eggnchips, so pop over and have a read …. and make sure you subscribe because I want to make a good impression! In fact, you could go further and send (bribes) gifts to the owner in the form of money, expensive watches, cake … especially cake, everyone can be bribed by cake. OK, the cake thing might just be me, but I do hope to see you there!

- I really enjoyed this post from Jo over at Slummy Single Mummy rebutting yet another spite-filled rant from Jan Moir.

In case you didn’t know, Jan now has the right to say pretty much anything she likes, about anyone she likes, as long as she dresses it up as opinion. Hmm. Using the logic of the PPC, I’m awfully tempted to share my opinion of Jan, but that would include such words as ‘bitter, twisted professional bully whose only talent is to be obnoxious’, which would be unkind, so I won’t.

- The Guardian are asking people who their favourite superhero is. Disappointingly,  the poll is a bit small, you can only choose Superman or Batman, both of whom are obviously inferior to Spiderman. Spiderman is, in my opinion, the superhero of choice for all creative geeks. But if you think differently let me know in the comments :-)

- Last night on The Bubble, David Mitchell mentioned an upsetting experience he had with tropical fish. I never thought I’d blog these words, but here goes:  I had an even more distressing experience with tropical fish. Well, not just me, it was a trauma the whole family could share, every time we sat down to watch television.

When we first moved here, we rented a house which came equipped with a tank full of tropical fish. Unfortunately, the previous tenants hadn’t looked after the original fish very well, so the estate agent had restocked the tank. Even more unfortunately, he didn’t know much about fish and brought the wrong sort. In amongst all the pretty, glittery ones, he’d added two big, black shark-like things that proceeded to systematically eat every other fish in the tank. The tank was above the television – yes, I thought that was a bad idea too – so every time we tried to watch a programme, we were transfixed by scenes of fishicide.

It was really, really awful. I’m not joking. It’s very hard to explain to a small child why delightful, little creatures are being torn fin from fin only feet away from the Teletubbies.  And the problem with badly behaved fish is you can’t do much about them – it’s not as if you can build them a kennel or take them to training classes. Instead, I resorted to shouting, ‘No! No! Please stop eating your friends!’, but they didn’t listen.

Anyhoo, eventually all the pretty, little fish were gone, and we were left with their murderers. This was even more disturbing because they developed a habit of coming to the front of the tank and giving us this look, a look that said, ‘one day we’ll get out of here, then you’ll be on the menu’. Just after that we moved.

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