Argh, no, don’t do it!
SLIS’s student mailing list is in the middle of a mild uproar regarding a political joke posted to it. This, by itself, is nothing amazing; people send ill-advised things to mailing lists all the time.
What amazed me was the response. The mailing list isn’t an appropriate place for political speech, so—let’s start an official SLIS weblog and discuss it all there!
People, people, people. Think. Please. Even if it hurts. I just sent a very long email to the mailing list on this theme, an email that boils down to “WTF are you thinking?”
See, I can say that here. I can say “WTF is SLIS thinking?” and SLIS can’t reasonably touch me. This is my space. It’s been my space for longer than I’ve been at SLIS. You guys out there reading CavLec know I don’t speak for SLIS. SLIS knows I don’t speak for SLIS. So SLIS can benignly ignore me, and everybody’s happy.
If this were SLIS’s space and I said something like that, I could reasonably expect to be hauled up in front of the dean. Reasonably? Sure reasonably. Happened to me once. I pride myself on being a grounded paranoiac.
What’s more, why does SLIS want to be responsible in any way for my blathering? As it is, when I write something cogent they can nod wisely and say, “Yes, she’s one of ours; isn’t that wonderful?” and when I make an ass of myself they can conveniently forget I exist. What’s to gain by bringing me under their rooftop? Only tsuris when (not if, when) I make an ass of myself.
You know, I started Caveat Lector in the first place over just such power/deniability issues. (As, indeed, one might guess from its name.) I lost control temporarily over the OEBPS FAQ because I stupidly let my Big Boss at the time talk me into letting it be work-for-hire. And my last employer but one? Hired me because I had a capital-R Reputation in the area, and wanted to capitalize on it. At the time, I was writing an occasional article for a web journal covering the business. The Big Boss asked me to indicate that my articles were part of his company’s business communications.
Well, I wasn’t that stupid. Stupid, but not quite that stupid. “I’m a little leery about that,” I said. “I don’t want—”
“Oh, we’ll never exert any editorial control! We just want our name out there.”
I should have gotten that in writing. I didn’t, because I was still stupid. And the entirely predictable came to pass: I wrote something the Big Boss didn’t like, and the Big Boss breathed a lot of fire down my neck.
And when the smoke died down, I decided I didn’t ever want to be in that position again. So I started CavLec, where I can be as pigheaded as I want without damage to anyone but me. And where no employer can possibly say again “Well, I didn’t think you’d write that!” when three years’ evidence about what I do and don’t write is available for the perusal.
I like to think I am a reasonable being. Anyone thinking of employing me who wants to have a discussion about CavLec—that’s perfectly fine; I’d rather discuss it openly than have anyone worry needlessly, or have another dragon jump out of a closet at me. I don’t especially want to make anybody mad. I never have.
But the speediest route to madness is mixing up individual expression with people in positions of power over the individual. It’s not a mistake I intend to make again.
Which is why I repeat, “SLIS, WTF are you thinking?”