Since “Dr Jim West” comes before “Targuman” in my RSS reader (it’s that alphabetization thing, you know), it was via Jim West’s post of April 8 that I first encountered the ruminations actually first put forth by Chris Brady. Chris asks some very interesting questions about blogging, and public discourse in general: what to say, what not to say, and so on. I encourage you to start with Chris’s post, then go to Jim’s, then spiral out to the various other posts and comments that have sprung up in reaction.

The part of Jim’s post that really caught my eye was the following, because I agree with it so much that I could have written it myself (I’m starting the quotation in the middle of a sentence):

… I cannot compartmentalize my life or my interests. I find no fault with those who can and do- but I simply cannot. I don’t have an academic side and a pastoral side and a personal side and a private side.

Like Jim, I’m just not good at sealing off different “parts” of my life. It’s true that I currently have three separate blogs going (well, one going, one sort of going, and one on life support)—Higgaion, Icosahedrophilia, and Dystemporalia—but that’s mostly a matter of logistical convenience (and there are some file-management reasons for doing it, too), and on each one I use my real name. In fact, in all online forums in which I currently participate, I use my real name or some reasonable facsimile thereof (like “cheard” or “chrisheard” or “drchrisheard”). I just am who I am, and I blog about all of my various interests.

Jim wrote something else that I found particularly interesting:

I think timidity in general stems from a certain fear of being held accountable. Not just in Chris [Brady]’s case but in all cases. What I mean is that when one writes or says something one is instantly opening oneself to not only misunderstanding, but intentional misunderstanding, misrepresentation, and conflict. Many fear this and so avoid saying anything ‘controversial’. It’s decidedly not the case that they don’t have an opinion or an insight on the matter; it’s that they simply don’t wish to open themselves to the consequences of that free speech.

Again, what Jim has written resonates with my own perspective. This issue of “being held accountable” and of the “consequences of … free speech” is why I resolutely stick to a free and open comments policy. Comments help to keep me honest, to let me know when I’m doing a good job (I hope), to carry on interesting conversations, and to correct me when I’m wrong. I don’t censor away comments that criticize my posts. As far as I can remember, I’ve only ever edited one comment, and that was to remove a gratuitous and anonymous swipe at a person who had nothing to do with the immediate conversation), though I certainly reserve the right to “bleep” out foul profanity if I wish. Also as far as I can remember, the only comments I’ve ever deleted outright (not including a whole bunch that I didn’t go to the effort to preserve when switching from Blogger to WordPress) were duplicates or those that were obviously spam that got through my Akismet filter. (I do apologize to anyone who has ever tried to leave a legitimate comment that was filtered by Akismet; WordPress blogs attract spam comments like raw meat attracts flies, and I simply cannot go through hundreds of suspected spam comments per day to find the one or two that might have been erroneously flagged by the plug-in.) Accountability to my readers—and respect for their free speech as well as my own—is exactly the reason why my comments policy remains rather “liberal.” I think this is actually the norm for most of the blogs that I read regularly, though a few allow no comments at all and a few are sometimes moderated rather mercilessly to squelch critics—Uncommon Descent comes to mind. I suppose I would offer my various exchanges with G.M. Grena as “Exhibit A”: sometimes when I post on certain topics, I know there’s a high probability of a critical comment from G.M. But I post my thoughts anyway (that’s the “my free speech” side), and I let G.M. object or criticize as he wishes (that’s the “accountable” and “readers’ free speech”) side. The free flow of ideas is one of the things that makes blogging worthwhile for me.

Anyway, I’m starting to ramble, but I appreciate Chris starting this conversation, and I appreciate Jim and others continuing it. Chris asked: “So what is the blog? Pulpit, classroom, water-cooler, or …?” Jim offered: “Blogging is the setting forth of one’s ideas in interaction with others as part of a wider community with the goal of achieving understanding and the communication of perspective.” I largely agree with Jim’s definition—well, what I mean is, his formula expresses much of the reason I blog—but I would rather fill in Chris’s blank with a different metaphor. For me, a blog is like a giant coffehouse conversation, with dozens or hundreds or even thousands of people all at once. This metaphor really does work for me. For several years, Richard was a constant and very important presence in my life. These days, I only get to have extended conversations with Richard once or twice a year, often at a coffeehouse. We talk about all sorts of things: our work, our families, movies, books, science, faith, psychology, stuff we like to do for fun, stuff we find funny, stuff that makes us mad—whatever might come up, wherever the conversation might wander. My blog is an online me, sitting in the coffee shop, talking with whomever wishes to pull up a chair, listen, and chat a while.

Thanks for being one of those folks.