Skip to main content

Opinions

Well researched articles, tightly constructed, with pieces of fact based observations have always been received with eventless appreciation. Contributors of news, research articles, journals, etc double check each and every phrase; citation of references is done with utmost diligence. Most of the literary geniuses of 20th century were columnists. These men contributed to the radical form of thinking, an unconventional set, in the form of opinions and essays that were not subjected to the endless scrutiny as the news articles were. However, opinions jarred the common man more than the straight forward news. It was, I must presume, the opinions that have given an opportunity for writers and columnists to express something intangible whether portent or otherwise. The essays were critically examined for the writers’ points of view in general, far away from the ricocheting abuse of fact based observations that was home to serious journalism .

This was until web 2.0 exposed the common man to a deluge of opinions, authoritative and otherwise. While the pre 2.0 period has seen a clear demarcation between the general reporting of news and the opinion on those news, post 2.0 period has been a cocktail of news and opinions looping into one another so much so that a clear distinction between teh two has no takers today.

HBR article on “information overload” oversimplifies the situation. Article goes on to claim that information is lost in the rubble that is left in the trail of cacophonous clamour on the web. Common man is confronted with too many opinions; very little time to make up his mind before yet another opinion exposes itself to him amorously. This situation, authors of the article believe, has led to the loss of information.

But, aren’t opinions good? Answer to that question lies in another one. Whose opinions, Yours’ or others’? If one arrives at an opinion all by himself- it will only improve the pool of critical analysis, an improvement on critical grounds. But if one were to be influenced persistently to the point that one renounces thinking and merely accepts one of the opinions, that will be death of critical thinking as we know it.

If we look at the pre and post web 2.0 periods, it becomes clear that in the pre 2.0 period when news were a thing of commonplace, opinions and sharp criticisms on an intellectual plane (in the form of essays) became radical versions, something to distinguish with. Soon the early 20th century news readers moved on to read essays, discuss opinions, columns, etc and garnered themselves with symbols of elitism.

Today, the opposite seems to be happening. With opinions on post web 2.0 period becoming a thing of commonplace, to achieve a self proclaimed intellectual status, individuals are turning towards serious journalism that was a thing of past, an archaic pastime. These individuals are the ones who are besotted with the old times. As for the others who have made their choice to stay on the web amidst the clutter, they just don’t seem to have the time to think and make a choice.

In every generation and time period, there are opinions that represent the minority; this goes on for a while until the tide shifts and minority becomes the majority. It is at a time like this, that another radical thought gains voice, yet another minority. And the cycle repeats. The clamour about “death of information”, “information overload” is but the minority that is slowly gaining popularity. The tide will shift only to shift again, and again, and again.

We all live like crabs in the rise and fall of waves, scuttling towards the shore with all the enthusiasm, only to be tossed down by the flow (majority) and carried back in the ebb (minority). There is no end to this game, there clearly was no beginning. We might make the beach our abode temporarily, drill holes and bury ourselves with sand (gain popularity as radicals, minorities). But we cannot live there in the sand- in the end we shall return into the sea (majority) and let the force of waves toss us hither and thither (majority and minority).

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ground control to Major Wolf…

Major wolf prodded his clawed grimy nail into the console and regally laid back on his plush leather lounge. He lifted himself a little for the leather made a chugging noise as he slid on it. The overhead panel made a noise that was akin to what you hear issuing from a tap (back on planet earth) before water makes its long journey through the pipes and burbles out in the vent. The hot-iron red of the panel glow bothered major so he held his hand up. But this was not going to work. So he reached for the console and pinched a knob clockwise. The red light dimmed and now the inside of his cockpit had the look of a womb so much so that major wolf went to sleep right away. A crackle woke him up. What was it? He looked about him. Major wolf was not the type you woke up in the middle of a dream. He noticed the green agleam on the speaker so he roused himself from the leather lounge and paddled in a daze toward the crackle and making a good fist, thumped on the instrument. The crac...

Sexy Receptionist

Whenever someone asked him what he would do if it was his last night on the Earth he said he would sit and chew his tongue. Of course a reasonable answer would have been to either play loud music or make passionate love to a woman, but he somehow found it inconsistent with his own intellectual curiosities, to be trapped in something so real as drinking costly wine for example. He thought he would spend his time mulling. The prospect of last night affected him deeply. Unlike for many, it was not the night to fritter away. To know that tomorrow does not exist, to know that it was the last night did not rearrange priorities in his mind as it did to his friends and relatives. The apocalypse was announced and pretty soon the last night was upon the planet. He tried, as he imagined he would, to sit and mull, to do nothing more than introspect, to pursue a cosmic dimension of some sort. But he was not alone. There she was, the sexy receptionist he hired only last week. They had to...

Burlusque travesty of Individuality

The things that I have come to own up as mine have all lined up and together, they form a perpetual order of affiliation dragging me towards them. Unwholesome as I am, I subconsciously acquiesce to the ordered death of my personality. The charm is lost; the feathers of gravity that pin me down to an individual are broken, now I am not fixated to the ground. Now I am free, to wander aimlessly, to forget for the rest of the time that I have ever lived so close to the purpose that the vicinity scarred me, left me lacerated. Angered I was, extensively exposed to the cruelty of the impulses. So, I broke the tethers, and I am now aimless, far away from the pillars of impulse and instincts. Far away from the individual that I once was, today, afloat in air, I recall my days and whine suspiciously if my days of glory can ever be recovered. My surroundings are effusive, vibrant and demanding. I relish in the comfort of timelessness, today, I have stooped so low that I am unable to differentiate...