
Aside from the deletionism vs. inclusionism debate–which is, in fact, a face-off between two competing theories of knowledge rather than a mere spat over the purpose of Wikipedia per se.–maybe the most profound philosophical connundrum offered by this wired, interconnected world of ours is the one about whether blogging actually matters. Like, if you’re an “ethnic Ashkenazi against Zionist Israel” with a 22 on technorati, does it really matter that you want people to protest the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra during its upcoming midwestern swing? More to the point, what sort of Emersonian–or, dare I say it, objectivist–belief in the infinite capabilities of the individual makes you think it could, in fact, matter?
There’ s a little of the egomaniacal in every blog–hell, Glenn Reynolds doesn’t even allow comments on his. But that egomania can be channeled into ends both good and bad: I’d put Ivy Gate-style public shaming in the “bad” column, along with our “ethnic Ashkenazi” and the thousands of other people casting their anger and frustration into the infinite vacuum of the internet, where it usually dissipates without doing much harm to public discourse. To illustrate: if I go up to an anti-Zionist and start yelling at him hysterically, he can’t ignore me and I can’t help but do a terrible disservice both to myself and to the position I’m arguing. But the internet is so vast that provocations like this barely register. The anger is unfocused–it’s floating, wandering, fading away.
But I really like 
