After I posted yesterday's call for stories from or about people who claim to have had comment posts deleted from Groklaw, I received an email from Pamela Jones asking me why I was "doing this." Since such a question presumes a certain level of conspiracy, I replied that the call for stories is self-explanatory -- if what people have said is true, this is a significantly interesting story for my readers, many of whom (perhaps wrongly) consider Groklaw an impartial source. The next email I got on the subject was from Ziff Davis Enterprise editor Steven J. Vaughan-Nichols, accusing me of attacking Jones in a public forum (The Jem Report) via my call for stories, and advising me that this is not tolerable on his Internet Press Guild mailing list, of which I have been an active member for a few months. He then kicked me off the IPG list. It seems you aren't allowed to write about Steven J Vaughan-Nichols' friends, or question the operational practices of Web sites friendly to free software ideals, and remain an IPG member. This is a sad day for me, not because I am now an outcast -- on the contrary, that's the best part! -- but because a writer I'd held a great deal of professional respect for sacked me because -- I know this is bizarre -- I was being too much of a journalist. I am sad because I thought SJVN was a pillar of professional journalism, the sort of guy who would encourage a hard charger like me to chase important stories like this one. That Vaughan-Nichols would kick me from an unofficial online journalism group to pressure me into killing a story and to show support for his friend Pamela Jones is, to me, shocking and heartbreaking. Unfortunately, among journalists who are also members of the free software social/political movement, there are questions you are not allowed to ask, people you are not allowed to write about, and personal politics and cronyism trump professional obligation. So let's clear a few things up and air some dirty laundry, shall we?
Years ago when I got into doing software reviews, the hottest software to write about was free (as in rights) software. It's easy to get caught up in the romanticism of free software -- the notion that all software should be free to use, share, and modify, and that it would naturally be technologically interesting and powerful as a side effect. I switched to Linux, though I called it GNU/Linux (and did so until a few months ago, mostly because I needed to add the GNU/ so I could get Richard Stallman to respond to interview questions). I abandoned most of my proprietary software. I started writing exclusively about Linux and free software, and examined licensing issues in depth. Simply doing these things made me a free software hero. Something never sat right with me about this, though. My reviews went from "wow, this is free and it sort of works!" to taking a more critical eye to the quality of free software projects.
Several years ago, while serving my 2-year sentence at OSDN (later renamed OSTG, now called SourceForge), I realized that I can't be a friend to free software and write good software reviews. I also realized that as a technology enthusiast myself, I don't care much about politics and rules -- I just want to use really cool programs and devices. Being a free software advocate meant that I had to set aside my own personal moral compass and adopt the unusual sense of morality of the Free Software Foundation leadership. This is exactly the same thing you do when you participate in a religion -- you delegate your sense of morality to what you believe is a higher power. Unfortunately, in all religions I am aware of, that higher power is imaginary, and the rules that guide followers' sense of morality are at best outdated, at worst totally impractical and dangerous to the psyche.
So let me be perfectly clear here and now: I am not a member of the free software movement. I have not participated in the free software religion for quite some time now, though it did take several months to completely shake off its beliefs. So, too, did it take me a long time to completely come down from being a hardcore Christian in my teenage years. You become a believer in a matter of seconds, but you become an unbeliever after a long period of reflection. It takes time to completely let go.
I am not being paid by Microsoft or anyone else to write. If someone would like to bribe me or pay me off, my price is one million US dollars -- not a penny less. Pay me a million dollars and I will write any story you want, and then I will forever retire from journalism. Frankly, I don't think my influence is worth that price, but hopefully someday a big corporation will change its mind and make me a rich man. Until then, I'm going to continue writing the most honest editorials and the most objective articles, news stories, and reviews that I can.
My sense of ethics tells me that my duty is to readers. As a publishing company, we accept advertising money, but I vigorously protect my editorial operations from the sales side of the business. From an ethical perspective, I cannot feel good about my work if it is dishonest; from a business perspective, if we don't publish stories readers can trust, then eventually we won't have readers, and then there won't be any advertising money. I have been asked by several manufacturers to write positive reviews in exchange for an ad contract, and in every case I say that I'll write the review that the product deserves, and direct that person to the other half of the company to discuss advertising.
I have donated money to open source software projects. I donated $15 to the FreeBSD Foundation when it was struggling to match a certain level of individual donations so that it could keep its non-profit status. I buy an OpenBSD CD set every 6 months. I once bought an OpenBSD t-shirt as well. I promised to donate 10% of my royalties from The OpenBSD Crash Course guide that I wrote (and will continue to update), and so far I have donated $50. When my royalty payments exceed my advance, I will continue to honor that promise by sending yearly donation checks. I bought a Mandriva Club membership last year, but I probably won't renew it when it expires. I have a monthly Cedega membership as well. Now you know the entirety of my financial investment or support in free software or open source software projects.
Writing critically is not a friendly endeavor. If you are friends with the people you write about, it is difficult to write objectively about them. It's not impossible, but it is difficult, and the longer you write about your friends, the harder it is to determine whether or not you are treating the subject fairly. There are many people I deal with professionally whom I am on friendly terms with, but that doesn't mean I owe them a positive article, news story, or review. A few of them have said angry things to me after an unfavorable review, but for the most part, they've gotten over it. I continually remind myself that I am not doing this to make anyone -- myself included -- look good.
Vaughan-Nichols' problem is that he's been doing this for too long, he's too friendly with too many insiders, and is now more interested in protecting his friends than in protecting a good story. The very point of journalism is to investigate the hidden mysteries of the world; to report on the successes and failures within the internals of social power structures; and to give readers information that they do not have the time or resources to discover on their own. People do not need journalists to report things that can easily be learned; we write reviews to help people make informed buying decisions, we write articles to help readers understand complex concepts, and we write news stories to inform those who were not there to observe firsthand. One thing we do not ever do is influence a story to protect a friend, whether it be writing a story in favor of, or attempting to kill a story in opposition to.
Had I attacked Pamela Jones or Groklaw ad hominem, that would have been unprofessional and I'd have been deserving of a rebuke by an elder like SJVN. However, a Google search for groklaw and deleted shows that there is ample evidence to suggest that Groklaw is censoring comments, many of which appear to be honest attempts to correct errors, and well-reasoned dissent to tightly-held opinions. This wouldn't be such a big deal if Groklaw didn't pretend to be an objective information source that relies on community contributions for accuracy. Investigating and writing about this practice is not an attack -- Stevie Wonder driving by fast could see that. But I understand why SJVN sacked me -- writing anything but praise for Groklaw is taboo among journalists who are also free software supporters. This is what I call the free software journalism club -- the small cabal of online writers who try to mix free software fundamentalism with journalism.
If someone were to show that Groklaw is not an impartial source, that it does not consider any community input that does not fall in line with Free Software Foundation dogma, then that diminishes the viability of the free software journalism club (of which Groklaw is perhaps the founding member) as a whole. It airs a mile-long clothesline of dirty laundry. It shows that advocacy and fanaticism have taken over where impartiality and objectivity should be paramount. We already know that Vaughan-Nichols and Jones are part of this unspoken cabal. Perhaps before I am finished researching the Groklaw story, I will have a few more names to add to the list. Discovering them is not difficult; all I have to do is see who reacts when I publicly sacrifice some of the sacred GNUs in the free software community:
Write about these things and expect retaliation and rebuke from the free software journalism club. Email and blog posts from free software supporters are one thing, but I truly fear this disease has spread to the one place that should have natural immunity to it -- journalism. It is a sign that something is deeply wrong in both the free software community and the fourth estate in general when journalists rebuke one another for encroachment not of industry-recognized ethical standards, but of free software taboos.
There is much reasonable debate to be had over the above-listed taboo topics. Disagreement does not have to be in the form of a "troll," and contrary evidence is not always "FUD," though the fundamentalists insist otherwise. Anyone who disagrees with free software philosophy is a troll, their reasoning is FUD, and if they write professionally, they must be being paid off by Microsoft and/or SCO. Such is the free software community attitude toward dissent, fostered primarily by the free software journalism club. Reality and history say that if an idea stands up to time and criticism, it doesn't need your voice to validate it... and if your theories and beliefs cannot hold up to well-reasoned critique, then they are probably ill-conceived. Therefore those who violently oppose dissent have something to fear -- they are afraid that you might show them something convincing that will shake their beliefs. Journalists are supposed to provide or at least enable those well-reasoned critiques, not participate in one faction's defense. You cannot be on the stage and in the crowd at the same time.
Those of you reading this in the free software community need to understand that silencing a dissenting opinion does not make it go away, nor does it sway popular opinion, and it certainly does nothing to change reality. Casting out the parts of reality that you deny makes them stronger, not weaker. The bulk of popular storytelling over the past 150 years has revolved around this core theme, yet so many people refuse to accept its lessons.
I vow to continue to show the hidden parts of the reality of the technology world for as long as I maintain my technology Web sites. Those of you in the free software journalism club need to take a hard look at what you are doing, and either learn to separate your beliefs, prejudices, and emotions from your professional obligations, or get the hell out of this industry. You cannot be a free software advocate and an objective journalist; neither can you remain so by forming tight friendships with insiders and defending them by rebuking curious colleagues. You know you're in the wrong group when asking questions gets you expelled.
As readers, the best thing you can do to reject the free software journalism club's altered reality is to stop clicking on, linking to, or otherwise supporting its work. That means articles by Pamela Jones and Steven J Vaughan-Nichols, and their associated Web sites.
As Linux and BSD users, if you are ashamed to be in the same group with the free software fundamentalists, then start associating yourself with the adults -- that means open source instead of free software, Linux instead of GNU/Linux, and rational thinking over blind advocacy.
As publishers, we all need to start taking a hard look at the stories we link to on other sites. There needs to be a better distinction between opinion and journalism. (This very piece, you might notice, is clearly marked as an editorial). Among the journalistic pieces there needs to be better quality control, which means not linking to sites that consistently publish unreliable content (cough, Forbes, cough, ZDNet Blogs, cough). Find better stories to link to; don't support the free software journalism club.
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Copyright 2007 JEM Electronic Media, Inc. No reprints without written permission.