I have a funny thought from time to time that I thought I’d share. I don’t think it’s original, someone else has probably pointed this out before and they’ve probably said it better than I have, but here it is anyway.
I’m not writing this blog just for my pleasure or the pleasure of my readers, but for my children (and grandchildren). In a general sense, the internet is immortal and the words jotted down and thoughts expressed will in most cases remain on the web long after they’ve served their immediate informational purpose and even long after we’re dead and gone.
The work of future biographers and historians will be made infinitely easier by the public record-keeping of their eventual subjects, who have poured out their thoughts, dreams and anxieties for all to see on the web. The retention and archive of years and years of people’s personal electronic communications via e-mail in the cloud will further ease the work of these chroniclers.
But it is our children, for most of us unborn or currently incapable of understanding our written thoughts, who will be offered the strangest privilege by getting to look back on our personal, recorded thoughts. Up until now, most adults have never had to face children who had ready evidence of their past imperfections, mistakes and occasional cluelessness. No adult ever had to have the tables of parenthood turned on them as their children were unable to effectively watch them “grow up.”
The internet has changed many things, many businesses, many social activities. It is hard to imagine most traditional rules and styles of parenting surviving the internet completely unscathed. How will authoritarian, paternalistic, “because I said so!” parenting stand in the face of children who can read their parent’s blogs?
How will the State convince us of its version of historical events when we can all watch them ourselves on YouTube and make up our own mind about what happened and what was the significance of it?
For bloggers in their 40s and 50s, learning about the consequences of children who can read their blogs is probably becoming a weekly occurrence. For bloggers in their 20s and 30s, this experience is likely yet to be had though inevitably it will.
Rather than end my commentary with a warning like, “Be careful, your children will be watching you!”, instead I want to encourage readers to be fully cognizant of the opportunity to communicate with future generations in a powerful, new way. If your mission is to spread knowledge and understanding, smile knowing that what you’re writing and what you’re building will one day be enjoyed by your children, as well.
Be thoughtful, and they’ll be thankful!
A House Rises 