What a weekend! At around 2.00pm GMT on Saturday, the UK’s most famous user of Twitter, announced (in no more than 140 characters,) his withdrawal from the world’s favourite micro-blog. Actor, author and lifecaster, Stephen Fry, had been engaged in an exchange with ‘follower’ @brumplum, who had commented: ‘much as I admire and adore the chap, they [Fry’s tweets] are a bit... boring.... (sorry Stephen)’. Fry, in a depressed state, took it to heart and signed-off with the words: ‘You've convinced me. I'm obviously not good enough. I retire from Twitter henceforward. Bye everyone’....
By Sunday morning, however, Fry was tweeting again, full of remorse and ‘feeling very foolish’. So the entire incident turned out to be a storm in a tweacup. Except that when your followers number nearly a million on Twitter, that cup’s a very large one. In the intervening hours, the twitterstorm had gathered considerable debris, making BBC news within minutes (BBC: ‘Fry ponders leaving Twitter site’) and with all the inevitable concern, disbelief, and outrage echoing around the twittersphere, with hashtags like #savestephen #stephendontleave #savestephenfry and #pleasestaystephen.
I can think of no more perfect storm to illustrate the big dilemma posed by Twitter. On the one hand, it is an innocuous, highly personal medium for instant messaging, ideal for gossip, opinion, passing on trivia, and taking umbrage. But at the same time, under the right conditions, it can become a potent instrument for a form of mass communication, often transmediated, that incites collective indignation (and potentially, collaborative action) at incredible speed.
Author and academic, Clay Shirky has done much to highlight the real and potential power of social networks for collective action (Here Comes Everybody ), and a great deal has been written about the benefits of the perceived democratising and empowering effect of these technologies: global awareness of the unrest in Sichuan following the massive earthquake in May 2008; the world’s attention brought to focus on the disaffection in Iran following recent elections that in turn, fuelled and strengthened that protest; and the success of the Obama presidential campaign online. All are examples of the newly discovered power of social networks.
Perhaps the most dramatic example of this in the UK was as recently as October this year, when Alan Rusbridger, editor of the Guardian newspaper, posted a tweet alluding to a High Court ‘super-injunction’ obtained by lawers Carter-Ruck on behalf of oil-trading firm Trafigura. The decision prevented the media from reporting a parliamentary question on the subject. The idea of an oil company attempting to gag the reporting of parliament, particularly on a subject as inflammatory as the dumping of toxic ‘slops’ in Ivory Coast, had all the hallmarks of a John Grisham novel. The outrage and indignation of twitterers was palpable. What couldn’t be printed in a newspaper, was whispered, gossiped and shouted about across the blogesphere, making the injunction untenable. Within hours, Trafigura had withdrawn its objection, and the story was being widely reported in full. In short, the battle for justice and freedom of speech appeared to have been won thanks in no small way, to Twitter.
However, what was positioned by many as a triumph for democracy, worried others. As the online editor of PC Pro, Barry Collins, expressed it at the time (‘Did Stephen Fry and Twitter really score a victory for free speech?’):
Stephen Fry and the Twittering classes may yesterday have overturned what appears to be an outright infringement of free speech, but they need to wield their new-found power with great care. Perhaps in between his self-congratulatory tweets, Mr Fry should remind his audience that what interests the public isn’t always in the public interest. Twitter is a great tool for free speech, but it’s a terrible means of dispensing justice.To reframe this concern in a different way: what happens when the voices of the largely liberal-minded, educated, and socially aware early adopters, are replaced by the voices of intolerance, extremism, and spite? Fry himself is well-aware of this dilemma, and has publically reflected on it only recently in a thoughtful article (‘Poles, Politeness and Politics in the age of Twitter’) :
Twitter may seem to some to be dominated by bien pensant, liberal spirits at the moment. Will I be so optimistic about it when these spirits are matched by forces of religiosity and nationalism that might not accord with my chattering-class, liberal elite preferences? When the political machines march in and start recruiting and acquiring millions of followers, giving them the power to close sites with DDOS slashdotting campaigns, what will I say then?For me, what all this reveals is a lack of both research and understanding about how this new media really works, and at its heart, what precisely is the role and influence of the unelected, unaccountable, new breed of opinion leaders – those with the loudest voices in the blogesphere . Old models of understanding media production, distribution, and consumption, conceptually derived from a Cultural Studies tradition, seem to have little to offer here. The Twitterati is not a reincarnation of the ‘gatekeepers’ of the broadcasting era. They represent something entirely new and something we urgently need to understand better.
Read more!

