Last night, while enjoying my new monitor a little too late into the night, I surfed my way into an interesting crossroads of ideas. Namely, the apparent conflict of amateurs versus professionals - a topic I visited recently with my post on citizen editors.
At one corner of my web browsing crossroads is Andrew Keen, the controversial author of Cult of the Amateur: How Today’s Internet is Killing Our Culture. Keen happened to be on a local television show last night so I read up about him online. I shouldn’t have to explain what sort of reception he’s received from those of us invested in web2.0 paradigms, tools and trends. And I’d summarize his thesis if his book title didn’t do so already.
At the other corner of the crossroads is Chicago writer Edward McClelland, whose recent feature in Salon - How Oprah ruined the marathon has caused quite a commotion among runners of all stripes. Like Keen, McClelland has a problem with amateurs. In this case, the arrival of wanna-be marathoners - led by celebrities like Oprah - ostensibly degrading the original meaning of the marathon (as an ultimate event for distance runners).
While I regard all of this anxiety about the amateur interesting, I think it conceals another slightly more nuanced debate: that of entitlement v. dues paying.
Paying one’s dues
As a teacher and writer, I have a vested interest in other people’s empowerment through self expression and learning. I also believe in breaking down barriers that unfairly marginalise some while maintaining the interests of the powerful. But I also believe in hard work, high expectations for all and the idea of paying one’s dues.
Writer’s write. And write and write and write. And they read - widely and voraciously. Serious writers learn the rules of composition and pay respect to all those who came before them (like jazz musician Metheny argues) before they innovate. Professional writers commit themselves to these standards in earnest (usually with the help of editors) to earn a living. According to traditional models, publishers, readers, scholars and markets confer authority, status and legacy.
As it is with writing, it is with running. You go out one day, take a few weeks off, then go back to it after sitting around on the couch and expect results. Similarly, jumping into a marathon without any prior interest or training in running is a bit like wanting to attend Le Cordon Bleu without ever having eaten or tasted fine food. This sort of impulse is not about amateurs versus professionals, but basic entitlement and status seeking. These people are motivated by the reward, not the journey involved in achieving that reward.
All of this comes back to the idea of respecting some sort of standard and earning your place according to an investment of work - namely, results-oriented work. This is the part of Keen’s and McClelland’s argument I agree with. But here’s where we differ.
Expert amateurs?
In an age of unprecedented rapid innovation, many of the “experts” are, according to traditional terms, amateurs (though, to be fair, many of these “amateurs” have professional credibility and authority from other fields - academia, media, technology, big business). Visionary or early adopter authority cannot be conferred by traditional means because the degrees or jobs that define their value are equally emergent. Visionaries or early adopters are those who are doing or supporting something at the cutting edge before it has been authorized by the late majority or laggard authorities. Traditionally, their status was conferred by their wealth and willingness to invest. More recently, ordinary citizens are contributing to the diffusion of innovation through their investment of venture participation. These people, however “unqualified” have contributed to the emergence and use of all the tools and trends that we now take for granted. Right now, you are taking part in that innovation simply by reading blogs.
And that brings me back to dues paying. In this new digital economy, we may measure expertise according to the investment, value, originality and quality of one’s participation in an emergent form. In this sense, they are paying dues through some very traditional models of learning, participating and knowledge building - sans payment and academic qualification.
In this context, laying claim to expertise via traditional professional standards is inconsistent with open source and participatory philosophies. Additionally, the emergent (expert) amateur is less likely to debate someone else’s supposed qualification when that status is conferred by participation and communal reciprocity. By far, this is the most democratic expression of expertise to emerge. This paradigm shift produces enormous anxiety for those whose models are located in the past.
The internet is all about new things. Ergo, trying new things - arriving early at the party, has value. I remember all the people who questioned the idea of blogging - many of whom now have blogs. Are these the kinds of people I go to for their insights about the future? No.
To return to the original idea of amateurs v. professionals, I have some questions of my own:
What defines us as something?
What is qualification? Who or what confers it? Why?
How do we establish standards in an emergent form?
What are your definitions of the following terms:
expert, professional, amateur, entitlement
(why)
Related reading: Larry Lessig TED talk “How creativity is being strangled by the law“
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