All weekend, I've been inundated via email, Twitter, the submission page and more, from people all pointing me to musician Dan Bull's brilliant musical "open letter" to Lily Allen in response to the whole kerfuffle last week concerning Lily Allen's decision to speak out against musicians who said they disagreed with plans to kick file sharers off the internet. I wasn't sure if it was worth posting, because I began to feel like some might view it as piling on -- and the purpose here was never to drag anyone down or abuse anyone. I thought I had been clear about that in each and every one of my posts -- and, for the most part, all of the conversations and discussions I'd seen on the topic were quite reasonable and fair. My posts never attacked Ms. Allen, but tried to raise the level of discourse, asking her to respond to certain questions -- and at the same time highlight how her position was, in fact, a bit hypocritical, seeing as she had been doing many of the same things that she said were destroying the industry.

And yet, with Ms. Allen shutting down the blog, and claiming it was because of "abuse," some people have started accusing me of "bullying" Ms. Allen. An IP lawyer in our comments insists that I am somehow bullying her in simply asking questions. One recording industry lawyer accused me of "leading" my "internet army" of "hackers" to "attack" any artist who agreed with Allen (what?!?). Then there was the major publication that claimed that Techdirt was upset about Allen copying our blog post and that we had "suddenly discovered the power of copyright." Apparently reading comprehension isn't a strong point there, seeing as we made no copyright claim at all, were happy that she copied our post, and merely used it as a teaching moment to show why everything wasn't nearly as clear cut as Ms. Allen believed. Suddenly, just because Ms. Allen cried "abuse," despite no evidence of any actual abuse, her supporters started assuming that it must be me who was doing the "abusing."

The whole thing has become rather insane, frankly. But I'm not afraid to respond to folks who raise reasonable questions. I don't shut down and hide when someone brings up points that weren't addressed. Ms. Allen kicked this whole thing off and claimed she was just trying to start a discussion. And we responded, by pointing out the inconsistencies in her position. That wasn't an attack. Plenty of people who first jump into a debate on copyright or file sharing don't fully understand the issues -- and the best way to help them get past those initial misconceptions is to ask important questions, and highlight how the issue is a lot more complex than it may appear at first blush. The fact that Ms. Allen was distributing others' copyrighted music on her own, and used that to help build her popularity -- while now claiming that the same activity by others was destroying the opportunity for new artists made little sense -- and the double standard seemed worth calling out. And, despite her deleting her blog, some actually saved many of the comments on her blog. And, again, they don't show "abuse," but thoughtful, reasoned argument along these lines -- none of which Ms. Allen has responded to as of yet. That post, by the way, also highlights numerous factual errors in Ms. Allen's earlier responses.

So, yes, I'm going to post this video, because I think it's great (and catchy) and because I think it does further the conversation, just not in the direction that Ms. Allen intended. It's from a fan of Ms. Allen's work, and is endearing, not attacking. It's entertaining. It's free... and it got me to go and buy Dan Bull's first album, even though he's offering it up for free, too. Ms. Allen wanted a conversation and she claims she wanted more new music. Well, here's both in one shot: This isn't "abuse." This isn't an "attack." This is, as all of my posts on this subject have been, an attempt to get Ms. Allen to actually think through these issues and answer some questions which it appears she has not considered. If reaching her by song is the way to do it, then that would be wonderful. However, I fear that she's decided to declare victory and walk away, rather than address any of the points raised.

While lots of people have picked up on various aspects of the song, the two points that I think are most relevant are pointing out that downloads don't equal sales, so stopping downloads (or kicking people off the internet) doesn't make people pay up. This is a point we've been raising for ages, and no one ever responds. The industry seems to think that magically people will start paying. And yet, there's no evidence of that whatsoever.

The second point is sarcastic, but is really a good one. Dan Bull jokes that using the same logic of people who think that stopping piracy (as if that's possible) will make people buy more music, perhaps we should ban CDs, because (according to this logic) "then people would have to pay to see bands for real." There's a huge disconnect here. The people who think that blocking activity online (and, remember, study after study after study has shown that "pirates" end up spending a lot more on music) will drive more of some other buying activity have no sense of economic history.

Taking away what fans want to do doesn't drive them to paying you more money. It drives them towards others who actually treat fans right. Like Dan Bull.

It's no secret that we've got some serious problems with the way the old school scientific journals work -- basically locking up scientific research rather than really living up to their mandate to spread scientific knowledge. Stephen alerts us to a separate issue with traditional journal publications: how they handle the followup discussion. There's a great blog post at Scienceblogs, that compares two separate journal articles where readers felt that the results were falsified in some way (despite being peer reviewed). In one, the scientist had to go to hell and back just to get the editors publish a comment questioning the original article. In the second, even though the article was published in a journal, an outside blog post and its comments became an impromptu forum to question the data in the article -- with many scientists conducting the same experiment themselves and posting the results (including photos) in real-time.

The second one is obviously a lot more of the way research should work these days, though it shouldn't all be hidden in a separate site's comments. If journals are serious about advancing knowledge, rather than locking it up, why not give up on the obviously faulty simple peer review process, and open up the content so that knowledgeable people can input their own thoughts in comments directly on the article in question? Isn't that what knowledge exchange is supposed to be about?

A few months back, I wrote about how important the conversation here on Techdirt is for the overall site. The blog posts here (and the discussion starters in the Insight Community) are conversation starters. They're to get a topic and a point of view out there, and kick off a further discussion that we can all learn from. This still upsets plenty of people who want to pigeonhole us into being "journalists" who need to act in a certain way, and it's interesting to note that the pigeonholing seems to go the other direction as well: many old school journalists hate the idea of being a part of the conversation. They see things like "comments" as something to avoid or to wade into only at your own risk. Many refuse to read or respond to comments.

But that's a huge problem, considering the business those news organizations are actually in: bringing together a community whose attention they can then sell in some manner. If the folks who bring the community in then neglect that community, that community is going to go elsewhere. The disdain many journalists seem to have towards their community shows through.

However, I've had trouble getting across to some just how much value conversation really adds. Yet, Fred Wilson just pointed me to a fascinating post about an experimental schooling method, whereby students who were doing well in certain classes no longer needed to attend the class. This may sound counterintuitive, but what happened was that a group of students simply taught each other the curriculum, and then spent more time learning other subjects as well. And, in teaching each other, they discovered that they learned much more themselves:

Now our independent study group was a remarkable group of non-conformists, whose marks -- on tests we didn't attend classes for or study for -- were so high that some wondered aloud if we were somehow cheating. My grades had climbed into the low 90% range, and this included English where such marks were rare -- especially for someone whose grades had soared almost 30 points in a few months of 'independent' study. The fact is that my peers had done what no English teacher had been able to do -- inspire me to read and write voraciously, and show me how my writing could be improved. My writing, at best marginal six months earlier, was being published in the school literary journal. On one occasion, a poem of mine I read aloud in class (one of the few occasions I actually attended a class that year) produced a spontaneous ovation from my classmates.

The Grade 12 final examinations in those days were set and marked by a province-wide board, so universities could judge who the best students were without having to consider differences between schools. Our independent study group, a handful of students from just one high school, won most of the province-wide scholarships that year. I received the award for the highest combined score in English and Mathematics in the province -- an almost unheard-of 94%.

While I didn't go through a program like that, some of my own experiences have been similar. In college, I was four semesters deep in statistics class before I took a job tutoring stats, and then eventually teaching an intro college class in statistics, and it wasn't until I tutored others and (finally) taught that class that I really understood many of the concepts that I'd supposedly "learned" in class. In class, I did quite well, but it was because I'd learned how to get by and solve problems. In actually teaching others, I was forced to really understand the subject so that I could actually answer the questions that came up.

The same is true of posts here. I had learned a lot about the economics of information and innovation in college, and then again working in Silicon Valley. However, the more I wrote about these subjects on Techdirt, the more people challenged different ideas, and got me thinking more deeply about them and how to not just defend my positions (or to change them, if I was convinced otherwise), but to really understand the subjects much more deeply. I've purchased more textbooks (and read them cover to cover) running this blog than I ever did in college or grad school -- and (this is the amazing part) even started recognizing where some of them have made mistakes.

These discussions are like another graduate degree for me, because I constantly have to think, rethink, defend and truly understand the arguments I'm making. It's hard to overstate how incredibly valuable that's been. The fact that many journalists refuse to engage in that sort of conversation actually shows through in their work: they don't want to bother. They like to position themselves as experts, but many don't really understand what they're talking about. Engaging in the conversation may be a lot of work -- and, at times, it can be frustrating or seemingly pointless. But, the massive amount of value I've received from those discussions -- just like the student in the story above -- is almost impossible to quantify. People talk about the importance of ongoing education. That's exactly what these conversations are for me.

The Wall Street Journal has an article exploring an interesting lawsuit in New Jersey, concerning privacy of employee comments in a private forum outside of work. In this case, some workers at a restaurant had set up a private MySpace group where they discussed work, including patrons of the restaurant and their supervisors. It's the typical sort of thing that people always joke about -- in the past, to each other in person, and these days online. The whole thing was private, and a way of joking around/letting off steam -- but, of course, one employee showed a supervisor, who initially laughed it off. However, the news spread up the chain of command, and the employee, who initially revealed the group, was forced to hand over her login to the group, which was used by the restaurant's managers, who then fired the creators of the group. The fired employees claim that the info was accessed illegally, violating wiretapping laws. That may be a difficult claim to substantiate, and could raise questions about what constitutes illegal access to such info (after all, the only reason supervisors found out in the first place was because one employee voluntarily shared the info). Still, it does seem like quite an overreaction to fire the workers because of this group.

A few weeks ago I ended up having a back and forth email conversation with an IP lawyer who... well... disagrees with me on a lot of things. He seemed particularly upset that I didn't go around and ask the experts or go into great detail researching minute side points on what I was writing about (even if those side points had nothing to do with the focus of the story). I explained back to him the same thing I recently explained at The State of the Net conference: Techdirt is not a journalistic endeavor. It's a conversation where I fully expect to get more out of the discussion in the comments and on other sites, than from anything I write personally. That doesn't mean we don't take facts seriously. Getting the story right is important, and we do research the key points concerning what we are discussing, but the useful thing about having this community of smart folks around is that if something is incorrect or if someone disagrees with me, they'll let us know -- and we all learn from it. It's great. The lawyer responded that he was "shocked" and told me that it was my obligation to carefully research every last detail before publishing anything or I had failed to live up to my "obligations."

That's why it's great to see this post by Fred Wilson, discussing the value he gets out of his blog being a giant (brilliant) discussion. In fact, he talks about how he views it as a forum. He even notes how he got trashed in a recent discussion because he didn't get some of the facts right. But that's part of the benefit of a conversation. If I'm talking to someone about an interesting topic, I don't spend hours researching the topic, I bring up what I've heard, express my opinion, and expect them to be able to add to the conversation -- even if it includes correcting factual inaccuracies. Like Fred, that's part of what's so valuable about a community like Fred has built around his site, or that we've gathered here on Techdirt.

Yet, there are still people in the world, like the lawyer above, who fail to understand this. And that includes newspaper publishers as well -- who are so focused on some artificial standard of publishing, that they forget the community part. You can see it in the comments on this post, where an old school newspaper guy lashes out at bloggers and journalists who blog without living up to some mythological standard. As I've said before, it's the community that's the most valuable asset of any news organization -- and part of engaging with that community is recognizing that they have a lot to add to the conversation -- and that means letting them in on the overall thought process. It's not just about delivering them a final work. Getting things right is important -- and I work hard to make sure that what I write is accurate. But I'm confident that if I get something wrong, the community here is quick to step up with a correction (and sometimes an insult) -- and we all learn from it. And that's what makes the conversation worthwhile.

It's amazing how much people fear what they don't understand. Every few years, there's something new to "fear" online -- and it's often backed up by quotes from clueless "experts" who buy into the fear rather than understanding what's actually happening. When the internet was first becoming mainstream in the 90s, there was the hilariously wrong Rimm Report, which had politicians and the media in a big frenzy about how the internet was just a massive den of porn that needed to be stopped. And, of course, more recently there's been similar attention paid to things like violent video games, despite the lack of evidence of any actual damage done to people playing such games. A few years ago, it was blogs that were evil ("an online lynch mob spouting liberty but spewing lies, libel and invective"), according to Dan Lyons, who at the time worked for Forbes, and later became famous thanks to his blog

Now, it seems that the main target of today's moral panic is the various social networking sites. Obviously, there's been a lot of trumped up complaints about sexual predators on social networks (despite the fact that, as social networks have become more popular the number of sexual offenses against children has been dropping). However, in the last few months, we've been seeing various weak attacks on social networking from a variety of other perspectives -- often clearly written by folks who haven't actually used the sites in question very much.

There was the claim that girls who used Facebook more often were more depressed, with the implication being that Facebook made them depressed, rather than the fact that those who were depressed may have turned to Facebook to talk to people and relieve their depression. Then there was the ridiculously misleading reports last week, implying that social networks could be harmful to your health, though the real story turned out to be a lot more benign.

The latest is a bit of fascinatingly yellow journalism out of the UK, where a reporter found a bunch of "experts" to opine on why Twitter was only home to insecure losers. There are a bunch of hilarious quotes from people who apparently have never even used the service:

"Twittering stems from a lack of identity. It's a constant update of who you are, what you are, where you are. Nobody would Twitter if they had a strong sense of identity." -- clinical psychologist Oliver James

"Using Twitter suggests a level of insecurity whereby, unless people recognise you, you cease to exist. It may stave off insecurity in the short term, but it won't cure it." -- cognitive neuropsychologist Dr David Lewis

"a way of making sure you are permanently connected to somebody and somebody is permanently connected to you, proving that you are alive. It's like when a parent goes into a child's room to check the child is still breathing. It is a giant baby monitor." -- book author Alain de Botton

The author of the article then goes on to whine about how "mundane" messages on Twitter tend to be -- which is reminiscent of the old complaints about bloggers just blogging about their cats. It's pretty clear that none of these folks have ever really used Twitter -- because they all seem to interpret it as being a broadcast mechanism, rather than a conversational one. This isn't to say that Twitter is right for everyone, but most of the people who find value in it, find value in the conversational aspect of it, not that it "broadcasts" mundane facts of their lives. I know that I've used it to become a lot closer to a number of people, because it allows me not to find out what they had for lunch today, but to converse with them more frequently and with much more depth and insight than I would have had the opportunity otherwise. Sometimes, that's because of direct communications via Twitter, but often it's because of connections created because of Twitter -- such as realizing I'm in the same city at the same time as someone else I'd like to meet. There are still plenty of people who hate Twitter, but it's difficult to take seriously people complaining about it when it seems quite clear they've never even bothered to use it.

While there are still some non-believers who continue to insist that there is nothing useful about Twitter, plenty of folks who have jumped in headfirst are finding new ways to make the service more useful every day. Here's a recent example, from E-Media Tidbits, which reports that in the recent "state of the state" speech by Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm, the governor's staff first announced a hashtag to be used in Twitter (MiSOTS), and then had the Govenor's staff adding the high points of the speech to Twitter as they came. But the more interesting part is that this created a real-time public participation and commentary on the speech as it was happening. Plenty of others used the official hashtag to respond to points and discuss what was going on in the speech in real-time, providing a fascinating play-by-play commentary of the address that would have been hard to do in any widespread manner previously (perhaps in a specialized chat room -- but that would have a much smaller number of users). While it doesn't appear that the governor or her staff responded in real-time, it also gave them a very useful look at how people were perceiving the address, and also gave them people they could quickly follow up with in the future. While I'm sure some Twitter doubters will still brush this off as nothing special, the ability to better communicate shouldn't be ignored or underestimated.

The folks at Warner Music Group insist that their efforts to convince universities to enforce a not-so-voluntary "usage fee" on all students is part of an attempt to start a conversation on new business models. However, they conveniently leave important stakeholders (those who would be forced to shoulder the bill) out of such a conversation, and have still refused to actually participate here in the conversation. So far, their only "participation" was having a PR person send a statement scolding me for daring to raise questions about such a plan. Apparently, the sort of conversation Warner Music wants is one where everyone lines up and agrees with Warner Music.

And, of course, it should surprise no one that the RIAA, where Warner Music has plenty of influence, is still out there filing more lawsuits, even as Warner insists it's turned over a new leaf and is looking for a more reasonable solution. In other words, this isn't a "conversation" at all. It's a protection racket. Warner Music and the other major record labels are just going to keep suing until people agree to hand them a big chunk of money, apparently.

So, Warner Music, if you really want people to believe that you've turned over a new leaf, and that you're interested in a real conversation about new music industry business models, how about you call off the legal dogs and stop filing lawsuits against both individuals and companies and actually participate in a conversation? We're still more than willing to help facilitate such a conversation.

Last week, we broke the story about a presentation being given to various universities about a music "tax" plan. The plan presented wasn't any different from what Jim Griffin (who was hired by Warner to pitch exactly this plan earlier this year) has talked about in the past -- but Warner Music Group was quick to contact us and distance itself from the presentation -- despite the title of the presentation announcing that this was Warner Music Group's plan, and two full slides of "comments from WMG," with one of those slides suggesting people contact Griffin at WMG for more info.

This week, a bunch of news organizations reported on the story -- with some, such as the the Chronicle of Higher Education, just repeating what was already known, while a few added to the story. Wired discovered that the planned name of the organization that would handle the "distribution" of funds would be Choruss. It also found out that EMI and Sony BMG have already signed onto the plan, along with Warner, which initiated it. Universal Music is the major label that's still holding out. Apparently independent labels are able to join up, as well, but the terms aren't at all clear yet.

Portfolio stepped up with its own discussion of the topic, highlighting a key point that I made to the Warner Music rep who called me: this conversation should be public. My conversation with Warner Music was off-the-record at their request, but I tried to defend posting the presentation by noting that this information should be discussed among all the stakeholders, rather than settled in a backroom deal like so many efforts by the recording industry. Otherwise, the parties that are left out of the discussion (generally, consumers) are going to get screwed.

In Jim Griffin's response to my post, he complained that: "At this early stage, many ideas may be discussed and discarded, but efforts to prematurely label or criticize the process only hinder achievement of constructive solutions." I would say back, that, at this early stage, if ideas are being discussed and discarded, why not bring everyone here into the conversation, so that we don't feel like the fix has been put on us after the "finished product" is finally announced from high atop RIAA-mountain? We're more than willing to help, right here on Techdirt.

I'll admit that there are times when I've been known to take up more than my fair share of a conversation. Usually, though, I only realize this after the conversation is over (such as when my wife points it out), though it is something that I try to watch. However, some researchers at MIT are apparently working on devices that can better measure the dynamics of face-to-face conversation and provide direct feedback to the speakers -- such as letting them know when they've been hogging the conversation and when to shut up. As the article link above notes, there really hasn't been much done to regularly analyze and provide biofeedback on conversational techniques and the way that people interact on a regular basis. In the past, it's mostly been limited to people being filmed doing some activity, and then reviewing the film later. Having a better system for monitoring certain actions in real time could be quite useful in getting people to adjust their behavior.