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

Entrenched Prejudices taking the form of Patriotism

What a great way to celebrate the Independence Day? I am bemused, apparently owing to the wide exposure of emotional experiences hitherto seemed innocuous. Delve a little deep into the acquaintance with idea "patriotism", one will invariably be granted with an uncalled inquisition, one gets to stare at a disconcerting vacuum. Why do we brand ourselves with nations that are a mere collection of geographically propelled, culturally augmented, self aggrandizing people? Answer is elusive to many for the reasons best known to them hitherto for their own good are turning skeptical now. Man whom the evolutionists assert shares a common ancestor with chimps and gibbons, naturally after parting his ways with his cousins (chimps, gibbons) choose to retain a comprehensive emotional, physiological and mental disposition. Man, if he ever chooses to embark on a space ship that supposedly travels back in time is bound to diminish his self esteem owing to his impromptu urge to track his ance...

Pressure Cooker

Daubing the top of wicks, one by one, with drops of kerosene, J proceeded to rest her newly bought Hawkins pressure cooker on the stove. “Now, you wait for the whistle” said the wealthy neighbouring lady who assisted J that morning with the cooker. With an assumed indifference, J waited for the whistle to lift its bottom over the lid and dance in merry. The kerosene stove, she was told won’t do justice to the cooker; she needed a proper gas stove with sleek finish and hollowed eyes that spewed blue flames with the turn of a switch. The kerosene stove with its twelve tongues brocaded over the epithelial layer of its throat, strung into a circle, served her family since the time of marriage. Her son squatted beside her, giggled and found it amusing as J rubbed his cheeks with her hands warmed before the many tongued stove. In the forlorn house under the wooden roof that leaked, between the pale brown walls that flaked, over the grey rugged tiles that cracked, mother and son lent their t...

The moth that covered my face!

My dog came prancing and dancing towards me, I started petting him almost impulsively, took his ears and rolled them over his head hither and thither, stroked his forehead, he was enjoying my attention blushingly perhaps, and he leant his head downwards and was swaying around to get the most of affection. And, suddenly he leapt forward with his hind legs brushing my knee cap, I looked over and he was merrily teasing a moth which apparently fell over on its back and was trying desperately to climb back into a more modest stand. Well, anatomically speaking, the moth had a curved back, smooth with shiny plate like outer skin that extended from front to rear forming quite an armour. It had tiny legs, it was just too hard to find out how many though, drawn so close to the body in a twisted tangled mess, it looked as if, the insect was bothering perhaps a little too much about its legs. On any other occasion, the moth would have leisurely entertained me with its physical theatrics, but this...