The Naked Generation

We write about everything. We capture it in photos and on video, and we share the links with online acquaintances known only by their login handle. It is too early in the social networking phenomenon to declare whether this practice is beneficial or not. What is undeniable, however, is that we live in a transparent age right now.

A map of digital identity. (source: Fred Cavazza)

Anonymity is one of the pillars of online communication. The ability to become someone else, mask some part of yourself, or lurk in the shadows increases paths to participation. The dark side of anonymity is irresponsibility, and we have already witnessed other social networks tackle Jon Swift problems by censoring their own communities to strengthen legitimacy. Even as we collectively accumulate personal profile pages that express our real identities, however, there are initiatives emphasizing anonymous disclosures. The Experience Project is designed around anonymity, asking members of the two-year-old community to connect through their experiences rather than extending existing social circles. In the end, though, this approach is about lowering barriers for people who could not otherwise participate in discussions. The impact of what is shared is dependent on the relationships we form with the identities we assign to ourselves and others.

The consequence of self-disclosure centers around the resilience of information.

Twitter, a microblogging service that exploded to a million members in about a year, uses the SMS constraint of 140 characters to lower the barriers to entry for potential authors. It is much easier to conceive of sharing a simple sentence or two than several paragraphs. The custom nature of the personal information stream (everyone can decide whose content they want to follow) implies a sense of control. However, the reality of Twitter is that the content is public. Even with private streams—where a member can require a mutual handshake before someone else can see their posts—the act of sharing content with anyone exponentially increases the likelihood that information will reach a public audience. The age of the intelligent web is here, and innocuous posts made in a semi-protected context one day can give rise to unexpected revelations in the future.

This has implications on future career paths, as comments in a Web Worker Daily article last September attest. Tim O’Reilly expects a Web 2.0 backlash and a return to private data. Perhaps. At the start of the year, Duncan Riley published a poll asking, should some things remain private in the age of lifestreaming. The nature of that flawed question led to a predictable response—less than 10% of respondents said “No”—and false evidence that we disclose too much about ourselves. A more relevant line of questioning would be what kinds of information should be private, for ourselves and from others.

Being naked isn’t only about what you publish online. Dartmouth’s Alice Mathias wrote in a New York Times op-ed piece last fall that the only privacy setting in Facebook that mattered to her friends was the one revealing if they are logged in. She speculated that the ability to search anonymously is significantly more important than remaining anonymous when other people search: “If our ability to privately search is ever jeopardized, Facebook will turn into a ghost town.”

Rob May had another take on the professional cost of social networking. Using the life of economist and political scientist Joseph Schumpeter as an illustration, May observed:

The web makes it easier than ever to connect with new people, but the flip side is that it also keeps us connected to people from earlier times… people who may not understand or support our goals. Is it possible that in some instances, social networks hold us back? In earlier times students could go away to school and carve their own path, but now with old friends judging every move we make, are we likely to be less unique, less aggressive, and perhaps not live up to our creative potential?

Molly Holzschlag prefers the term authenticity to transparency, criticizing the later as implying a reality that may not be present. There is some degree of self-censorship that goes into any interaction with the world, be it this blog, my Twitter account, or a conversation I have on campus. Throughout it all, I aim for authenticity. My own hypothesis is that greater transparency leads to more empathic censorship, not decisions to omit based on fear or power. Being open requires more awareness of our networks, which leads to a higher consciousness about communication.

Keeping track of locals depends on accurate self-disclosure.

My interest in Twitter revolves largely around microblogging as a conduit for strengthening local community. I routinely seek out Bloomington-area authors, adding them to a master list in the Hoosier Twitosphere and following many of them. Sometimes, it is reciprocated and our social circles join. We inspire each other through this ambient connection, planting the seeds of more meaningful relationships capable of addressing business, emotional and intellectual needs. None of this is possible without a transparent culture willing to share something as small but significant as their location.

The value of local connections cannot be underestimated. The impact of transparency is routinely exhibited on Homeless Man Speaks, a blog about a man experiencing homelessness in Toronto, as transcribed by a neighbor:

So, of course, the guy gets out of the car, of course he’s pissed at me, and I’m telling you, he’s six-foot-something and he’s got biceps that could crack walnuts. So he looks at down me and says: ‘I know you. You’re homelessmanspeaks.com.’

Small steps. The journey begins by gaining awareness of those around you.

What information do you keep private? What should others keep private?