I+should+apologise,+Linda+Grant,+Comment+is+free,+Guardian



=I should apologise=

Linda Grant, Comment is free, The Guardian, 13 November 2007
Somewhere, behind the anonymous and strident cacophony of the discussion threads, lies a community waiting to emerge

When Georgina Henry rang me 18 months ago to tell me that the Guardian was launching a group blog, and would I like to contribute, I was lukewarm about the idea.

"You're not going to have comments, are you?" I said.

"Oh, yes, we have to have comments," she replied.

"It'll be a bear pit," I warned her.

"No, no, it will be moderated."

"You wait."

Old skool print media types had no idea what was waiting for them. Instead of the measured tones of the Guardian letters page, a cacophony of voices arose, and many of them were angry, rude, strident, hysterical, bloody-minded and a few were downright batty (I have a Cif cyber-stalker who believes that Tony Blair had John Smith bumped off so he could become prime minister).

Some, like Seth Freedman, with less experience of old-style papers, took to the new medium like a duck to water, giving as good as he got; others, like me, wondered why we had to put up with abuse hurled at us from the anonymous safety of someone else's computer screen. Defenders of the new regime said that this was democracy, you didn't have to be part of the media elite to have your views heard and that the beauty of anonymity was that the arguments had to stand or fall on their own merits. Out of the window with deference to over-paid hacks. Now everyone could have their say and Guardian journalists, politicians - the whole bloody Establishment - would be ridiculed for failures of logic.

Often I would try to imagine the person behind the opinions. Who did we have here? An embittered old Trot with a couple of bad marriages behind him and a tendency to take a drink or two? Or spotty Tory boy, commenting in his bedroom while he was supposed to be studying for his A levels? The problem with Cif was that not only did you not know who someone was, but usually you didn't even know their gender, age, occupation. Was this person commenting on Africa a veteran of the anti-apartheid struggle or a call-centre worker who has read an article on Wikipedia?

But why should it matter? It mattered, I thought, because by turning someone into nothing more than a set of opinions on a screen, you could first depersonalise, then dehumanise and then demonise your opponent. You were battling with vast realms of virtual enemies, whom you could invest with all kinds of evil intent (which is why the accusation "Nazi!" is so popular on the internet). The extrapolation from a few slightly badly chosen words, hurriedly typed, into a whole system of belief became a common sport - "Zionist neocon!", "Loony lefty".

I recounted last week the discovery that the son of my old boss, Tony Hall, turned out to be the frequent commenter known as "ishouldapologise" (in real life Phil Hall). Through him, I was able to regain contact with his parents, two of the most remarkable people I have ever met, who have spent all their lives devoted to Africa and its people, "gypsy journalists" they described themselves. It was a few months before Eve Hall's death from breast cancer, and I wrote [|her obituary] for the Guardian when, two weeks ago, sadly, at the age of 70, she died.

I [|wrote about this experience] last week on Cif and something remarkable happened. After a few comments on the issue of anonymity, suddenly people began to treat each other as people, not sets of ideas. Many offered their condolences to Phil Hall (ishouldapologise); he told them the names of the songs that would be sung at his mother's funeral on Saturday, and people posted Youtube versions. Some said they would light candles. Others began to reveal, painfully, their own experiences of close family deaths, of mothers, of fathers and of children, of their own battles with cancer. The most remarkable were the words of "sapient", in Australia, who wrote:

"This is hard to write even though anonymously ... today 9th Nov is the 20th anniversary of my son's funeral. My son was injured in an accident and lived for ten days. My only question was: 'Has he enough painkiller?' The doctor's answer was: 'We do not know.' He died on the 5th."

This harrowing image has stayed with me. I don't know who "sapient" is, and his or her name is immaterial. Whatever their opinions, I know that this is a person who was suffered a dreadful loss. Would it make any difference if their real name were printed next to it? If this is Jane Smith or Marcel Leland (whoever they are) it makes no difference. And as "sapient" pointed out, it was the anonymity that allowed the memory to be expressed. If anything has convinced me that the anonymity issue is a red herring, this is it.

As the thread gathered pace, people began talking to each other, like - well - people. Recognising that though they might disagree, they had become - well - even a bit fond of each other. They (cough) cared.

Someone suggested a non-virtual meeting of London-based commenters. It's 6pm at All Bar One, Dean Street, Soho, on December 11: "Cif staff and writers also more then welcome ... We will be asking people to check axes and all other weapons at the door though" (and straw men not welcome). So show your faces. You never know, the Zionist neocon may be the one who stands the first round.

On a final note, Phil Hall emailed me last night to say that his dad will be in England over Christmas and he hoped we would be able to all meet up. I haven't seen him since 1971. So, I should apologise. Comment is Free did a good thing.


 * From: http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/linda_grant/2007/11/i_should_apologise.html**

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