Photo: Heidi Fedak
Two weeks ago, I sat down to watch "The Path to 9-11."
Despite reading countless stories criticizing the show's creation, I thought it wouldn't bother me that portions of the five-hour ABC docudrama had been altered for dramatic effect.
I was wrong.
The evening started out well enough, but before I knew it, I had closed my critical eye and fallen prey to the improvised docudrama. Time and time again, I heard myself saying, "So, that's how that happened," except I had absolutely no idea if that's how it really happened. Without a disclaimer, I had no way of knowing whether that particular television moment was fact or fiction and I didn't have time to read the 9-11 Commission Report to find out.
I feel the same way about Wikipedia. Although the online encyclopedia has wormed its way into popular parlance, I'm not sure I trust it. Because anyone can edit a page (and should be bold about doing so), I don't know what's true and what's not, what's right and what's wrong, what's Colbert-created and what's not. I'm as confused as I was when I watched that docudrama.
Apparently, the Wikimedia Foundation is well aware of Wikipedia's weaknesses. So, in an attempt to be transparent and true, it has put both directions and disclaimers in place. But, much like I don't have time to read the 9-11 Commission Report, I don't have time to wade through Wikipedia's complex array of acronyms in an attempt to determine what's true and what isn't. (My favorite statements from the NPOV page? "User:Stupidmoron does not seem to be a vandal (though hir [sic] name sounds a bit odd for a serious contributor)" and "Who is writting [sic] these articals [sic]; please don't tell me that ‘Marshman or Skybunny' is telling me what to think?")
I'm all for citizen journalism and the marketplace of ideas. And in that vein, Wikipedia is a wonderful social experiment. I'm just not sure I'd use it for anything more serious than the speed of the batmobile. Sorry, Marshman and Skybunny.
Before you download a 400 page report on me with a link, warn me it is a pdf. That way I can avoid it, if I want to. And I generally avoid pdfs.
Actually, it's 585 pages. In the future, I'll include some sort of warning about the PDFs. Any suggestions on how to do that?
Of course one should not link to Wikipedia without critically analyzing an article's content. Nor should one link to a New York Times article without using the same level of scrutiny.
I would argue that Wikipedia has an advantage over most of the mainstream media: footnotes. How often do you read a newspaper article and find unattributed "facts?" A good Wikipedia article contains footnotes to support the authors' claim. Readers are not required to blindly trust the judgment of a reporter.
Generally, a text warning in parenthesis "(pdf)" is one answer, especially the way you link. That is to say, you don't set up your links in text:
"I had no way of knowing whether that particular television moment was fact (pdf)..."
When appropriate you can write the warning into the text:
"I had no way of knowing whether that particular television moment was one of the facts in the 500-page pdf file or..."
While we're on the subject of links...I have to tell you one of my pet peeves... links without meaning or context. And, I'm not talking about the link itself, but the text that is the link you create for readers to click on.
For example, you said
You linked "stories" to a Washington Post article, "ABC's Twisted 'Path to 9/11'."
It makes the link more meaningful if you do it like this
You see how it helps me, the reader decide if I really need (or want) to click on the link. Title tags within your href can also help provide the reader with clues to what or why you're linking to a particular page. (Hold your mouse over my link from above and you'll see I added the story headline to the title tag of the link.)
Ok, enough of my crazy ranting. I just needed to get that out. :)