No comment: the hidden face of feedback

By Fabiola Carletti

There are many names for people who read blog posts but don't comment on them: internet introverts, digital wallflowers, the silent majority...

The CBC's Jim Lebans lists all of these nicknames in his short essay "In defense of lurking." In it, he explains why he doesn't chime in at the end of articles, despite having reasoned opinions.

Of the few comments following his piece, this was the most telling:

But I'd venture to guess that, unlike Lebans, most don't decide not to comment--they probably just don't think to. Others just don't want to: they may have something to say but, all things considered, it's way easier to scroll down and roll out.

The rarest kind of reader, in my experience, is the one who writes something thoughtful, attaches their real name to their statement, fills in their actual email address and maybe even checks back to see if the conversation has moved forward.

But what about the online conversations that happen because of, but outside of, the original blog post?

In my case, most of my feedback comes through Facebook. Sometimes the links I post spark long and complex debates. Often, the people participating don't even know one another and yet manage to engage in very critical yet respectful conversation.

Meanwhile, the original blog post is surrounded by singing crickets.

By way of example, I recently posed a question on this blog: Should reporters be allowed to protect whistleblowers?

If you check the post, you'd think only one person had thoughts on the matter. Well, today I am bolstering the numbers by ousting a few of my Facebook friends.

Their responses ranged from the curious to the impassioned, but they all took the time to think through the issue and engage with others. I think it's a shame that the resulting discussion should remain locked behind the gates of my Facebook privacy settings. (At least, in theory.)

What follows is a comment thread you were never intended to see. Hopefully, its content inspire some more of you "eyeballs out there" to activate your fingers and get in on the conversation.

Here's an experiment for after the fact:  I (perhaps ironically) invite all you "lurkers" out there to respond to this post and let us know why you tend to pass through so quietly.

Feedback on "Should reporters be allowed to protect whistleblowers?"

Thanks to those named below for allowing me to re-post their comments along with their full names. Forgive the spelling errors. Facebook is the wild west of typos.  

Fabiola Carletti is a Toronto Star radio room reporter and graduate student at the UBC School of Journalism. She recently graduated summa cum laude from York University, having earned an honours double major in Professional Writing and Communication Studies. Her digital footprints are all over the internet, but you can learn more about her by reading her blog, or chasing her around on twitter.

Comments

[Sarah]

I've noticed this too. Perhaps it is that people feel more comfortable commenting when they actually "know" the person/environment its in. And since you can lock your Facebook happenings to just the realm of Facebook and not the entire world wide web, people feel a little better about it.

I just find it funny when I link out to a blog post, someone has gone out of Facebook and read it, and then returns to Facebook to comment on the link I posted. Odd.

[Dan Schwartz]

I made a decision a while ago that I would never comment on news stories, or really anything at all. I don't like doing it. I don't feel like I have anything useful or interesting to say about any story. In fact, I feel like in writing this comment I am wasting everyone's time, including my own.