A few weeks back I saw Andrew Keen debate on BookTV. During the debate, I felt that he came across as arrogant and elitist. I’m not sure why, then, I chose to pick up his book, The Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet is Killing Our Culture. Perhaps it was the small, unintimidating size of the book. Perhaps it was my insatiable interest in the internet. Perhaps its just my curiousity getting the best of me.

Regardless of the motivation, I’m glad I read the book. Unlike the debate, reading Keen convinced me that many of his arguments deserve a fair hearing. Though few are brave enough to admit it, the new wired world we live in is not all sunshine and roses. There are deep, dark, and murky waters that we should be wary of. Keen’s book is a great introduction to some of the dangers we face as a culture in the new digital age.

He states that his book is a “polemic about the destructive impact of the digital revolution on our culture, economy, and values” (1). Put bluntly, Keen views the vast majority of the internet to be “ignorance meets egoism meets bad taste meets mob rule” (1). (For those ready to quit reading at this point, just think of MySpace and many blogs you read and ask yourself, “Whether I like it or not, does Keen’s description generally apply?”)

Keen’s awakening occurred during a Web 2.0 conference in Silicon Valley that had one rule: “no spectators, only participants.” “The camp was run on open-source, Wikipedia-style participatory principles—which meant that everyone talked a lot, and there was no one in charge” (13). The revolutionary possibilities and potential of “democratization” were lauded with great vigor. However, as Keen listened, he began to see how “the great seduction” of Web 2.0 is nothing but a smokescreen.

The Web 2.0 revolution has peddled the promise of bringing more truth to more people—more depth of information, more global perspective, more unbiased opinion from dispassionate observers. But this is all a smokescreen. What the Web 2.0 revolution is really delivering is superficial observations of the world around us rather than deep analysis, shrill opinion rather than considered judgment. The information business is being transformed by the Internet into the sheer noise of a hundred million bloggers all simultaneously talking about themselves. (16)

The radical democratization of all things does not bring greater clarity but greater distortation to all things, most notably, truth. Keen expresses concern about “the blurring, obfuscation, and even disappearance of truth” (16). He laments a Web 2.0 world consisting of a flattened, self-created, “on-demand, personalized version [of the world] that reflects our own individual myopia” (16). This myopia is no better illustrated than in Time magazine’s choice for the 2006 Person of the Year: YOU! What does it mean to be “person of the year” when everyone and anyone qualifies? This radical democratization may seem fair and equal, but it does not reward excellence, give proper credit to experts, or applaud courage. It is myopic, narcissistic, and value-less. The navel-gazing hits full stride in social-networking sites such as Myspace and Facebook which are little more than “shrines for the cult of self-broadcasting … tabula rasas of our individual desires and identities” (7).

Keen directly challenges Chris Anderson’s The Long Tail which celebrates the flattening of culture where “infinite shelf space for infinite products” gives “everyone infinite choice” (29). He points out the glaring hole in Anderson’s argument: “Anderson assumes that raw talent is as infinite as the shelf space at Amazon or eBay. But while there may be infinite typewriters, there is a scarcity of talent, expertise, experience, and mastery in any given field” (29-30).

Clearly, not every song, book, poem, video is noteworthy, or even good, for that matter. The fact that talent is not equally doled out or equally honed is proof that not everything is of equal value. “Talent, as ever, is a limited resource, the needle in today’s digital haystack. You won’t find the talented, trained individual shipwrecked in his pajamas behind a computer, churning out inane blog postings or anonymous movie reviews. Nurturing talent requires work, capital, expertise, investment” (30).

Like Rosseau’s “noble savage,” radical democratization puts forth the myth of the “noble amateur” – the innocent, inexperienced, non-expert who, strangely enough, knows more than the experts. But this is nothing more than a myth – a Web 2.0 participatory fantasy. Though it may seem “fair” to allow everyone equal voice on a matter, the fact is that not everyone is qualified to speak as an expert. People are experts for a reason. Indepth knowledge involves a considerable investment of time and resources. If “everyone has equal voice, the words of the wise man count for no more than the mutterings of a fool” (30). With the loss of expert opinion, we lose the benefit of experience, wisdom, and skill. What we gain with Web 2.0 is not a greater amount of expert perspectives, but an avalanche of amateur noise that none of us have the time or energy to wade through.

The division of labor in contemporary society demands that we specialize in something – we cannot all be experts on everything. Keen writes, “The reality is that we now live in a highly specialized society, where excellence is rewarded and where professionals receive years of training to properly do their jobs, whether as doctors or journalists, environmental scientists or clothing designers” (38). This effort and experience should be respected and rewarded. But Web 2.0 does not respect nor reward experience or effort.

The fact is that the radical democratization of all voices does not lend itself to greater truth or a better life. Though all people are entitled to their own opinion, not every opinion is of equal weight or value. Knowledge, experience, and achievement all matter. Reputations and qualifications have value. “Indeed, what defines ‘the very best minds’ available, whether they are cultural critics or scientific experts, is their ability to go beyond the ‘wisdom’ of the crowd and mainstream public opinion and bestow on us the benefits of their hard-earned knowledge” (44).

It is this effort, experience, and expertise that the cult of the amateur rejects.

Becoming a doctor, a lawyer, a musician, a journalist, or an engineer requires a significant investment of one’s life in education and training, countless auditions or entrance and certifying excims, and commitment to a career of hard work and long hours. A professional writer spends years mastering or refining his or her craft in an effort to be recognized by a seasoned universe of editors, agents, critics, and consumers, as someone worth reading and paying attention to. Those in the movie industry submit to long hours, harried schedules, and insane pressure to create a product that will generate profit in a business in which expenses are high and hits are unpredictable. Can the cult of the noble amateur really expect to bypass all this and do a better job? (63)

We need experts to inform us, not simply to converse with us. A favorite contemporary buzz word is “conversation.” Everyone wants to have a conversation. Few want to listen carefully and critically to expert opinion. People generally denigrate lectures, preaching, and presentations. They aren’t “democratic” enough. Everyone should have equal say. There is nothing wrong with “conversations” but, if we seek to benefit from the expertise and experience of another, it would be better to allow them to lecture, and then invite them to lunch for a conversation. But to demand that every matter be reduced to a “conversation” does not do justice to all avenues of learning. There must be room for learning from those with wisdom and experience, or our conversations will descend to myopic concerns and pooled ignorance. Just sit in on the average “small group” discussion of a biblical passage, and you’ll quickly note the lack of informed opinion that is needed to stimulate accurate reflection on a particular topic.

The “long tail” may allow for an infinite amount of choice, but it is at the expense of any shared culture. “Chris Anderson is right to say the infinite space of the Internet will afford more and more opportunities for niche programming, but the downside is that this will ensure that such niches generate less and less revenue. The more specialized the niche, the narrower the market. The narrower the market, the more shoestring the production budget, which compromises the quality of the programming, further reducing the audience and alienating the advertisers” (32-33). Keen rightly asks, “Where does it end? With a channel for every one of us, in which we cire the solitary broadcaster and the sole audience? This would be democratization on the most fundamental level” (33). He concludes, “What the Web 2.0 gives us is an infinitely fragmented culture in which we are hopelessly lost as to how to focus our attention and spend our limited time” (60).

Web 2.0 is not only dumbing-down discourse and fragmenting our culture, it is also corroding our values. Online gambling, rampant pornography, and the stealing of intellectual property – whether through plagarism, pirating movies, or illegaling downloading music – are the most pervasive activities on the net. “From hypersexed teenagers, to identity thieves, to compulsive gamblers and addicts of all stripes, the moral fabric of our society is being unraveled by Web 2.0. It seduces us into acting on our most deviant instincts emd allows us to succumb to our most destructive vices. And it is corroding and corrupting the values we share as a nation” (163).

The anonymous nature of Web 2.0 increases its danger to real community. “Trust is the very foundation of any community” (80). We interact with others whom we know and trust. This is thrown out the window with Web 2.0. “All this points to a fundamental flaw with our userdriven content. We’re never sure if what we read or see is what it seems. The user-run Internet not only allows, but encourages, the invention of false identity. Yet no one questions why so many of us are determined to hide who we are or what our affiliation is” (79). The anonymity of the internet makes it nearly impossible for us to know if the person our daughter is chatting with is a sexual predator or a peer. The great review we read may be written by an employee of the company who made it. The bad review may have been written by a competitor. People twist and use legitimate means for corrupt purposes.

Radical democratization eclipses truth. What’s popular is not necessarily what’s true. Democracy should not degenerate to mob rule. The wisdom of the crowd is not always the wisest course. “History has proven that the crowd is not often very wise. After all, many unwise ideas—slavery, infanticide. George W. Bush’s war in Iraq, Britney Spears—have been extremely popular with the crowd. This is why the arbiters of truth should be the experts—those who speak from a place of knowledge and authority—not the winners of a popularity contest” (96).

We must be careful with our Web 2.0 culture. For all its benefits, it also contributes to the distortion of truth, the fragmenting of our shared culture, and the corrosion of our values. Keen’s book has caused me to reevaluate everything from my own use of the web to my personal tag line – amateur pastor, hack theologian, and wannabe mystic. In the future, I will need to rethink whether my moniker is accurate or misleading. I am, after all, a professional pastor, a trained ecumenical theologian, and a practicing mystic. The very description I once touted as a provocative and self-denegrating title may actually muddy the waters more than clear them. Hmmm… (to be continued)

Quotes excerpted from The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet is Killing Our Culture - Andrew Keen
© Richard J. Vincent, 2007