Best meme in show: Unmediated thoughts on the internet and language

Angus Lang

My family owned a cat when I was growing up, but I think the internet has taught me that I’m a doge person.

LOLcats was an early iteration of an internet meme with some potential: amusing images of cats accompanied by intentionally ungrammatical text was a promising combination, but ultimately it didn’t hit the spot. This, for instance, is cute enough, but not actually funny:

Image by Misterjack, provided by CC licence via Wikimedia Commons

However, if you replace the cat with an image of a happily inane and easily impressed dog (a shiba inu), and instead of the half-baked misspellings use a mixture of eccentric noun phrases sprinkled with the occasional “wow”, the whole proposition becomes much more compelling.  This, for example, is doge’s take on the topic of 3D printing:

Image from The Daily Dot

It works best when there is an obvious gulf between the depth of the topic and the doge’s treatment of it. Here, for example, doge deals with the grey zone between terrorism and civil disobedience:

        

Image from FunnyJunk

The doge is undoubtedly inane, but like many fools, he has a certain wisdom about him. And, to my mind, it’s especially in the field of internet linguistics that he has a thing or two to teach us.  

Doge is a good example of the internet’s tendency to provide conditions for the development of new language varieties, at greyhound pace, and accompanied by multiple variations. David Crystal, writer on many linguistic things, thinks that the internet’s influence is unprecedented in this respect. 

The sort of riffing that produced doge out of LOLcats can be witnessed all over the place. For example, the orthodox spoken or written phrase “I can’t even begin to describe this to you” has produced the microblogging/texting/tweeting iterations “I can’t even”, “I have lost the ability to even”, and “I have lost all ability to can”.  

Now, I confess I don’t know enough about the field to explain the mechanisms at play, but I imagine it has something to do with the playful (“ludic”) way in which language is used in many popular forms of digital communication, the need for linguistic creativity to be expressed within tight confines in such contexts (eg Twitter/SMS character limits, or keeping it “micro” in the case of microblogging), and the impressive capacity of internet communication to spread: with immediacy; to a wide number of people; and over a geographically disparate population.

All of that is very cool, but if a variety of internet-language could venture out of its natural digital habitat and enter the spoken language, now that would really be something. 

So far, apart from a few bits and pieces here and there, it hasn’t really happened yet. Linguistic prescriptivists and other concerned citizens have, over the years, expressed their fears about the threat to standard spoken and written language forms posed by net- and sms-speak, but by and large they have not materialised. U dont eg omit pnctu8tn or abbrv8 or use pctgrms in 4ml wrtn work lk when u r txtng. 

My personal ambition for doge is that it will make this leap. The ingredients are all there: it’s catchy, has its own grammar, and it doesn’t even need the doge to work. 

This poem from the daysofstorm Tumblr, for example, is a fantastic rendition of Romeo and Juliet in doge-speak:

What light. So breaks. Such east. Very sun. Wow, Juliet.
What Romeo. Such why. Very rose. Still rose.
Very balcony. Such climb.
Much love. So Propose. Wow, marriage.
Very Tybalt. Much stab. What do?
Such exile. Very Mantua. Much sad.
So, priest? Much sleeping. Wow, tomb.
Such poison. What dagger. Very dead. Wow, end.

In my own conversations, I have been trying to deploy doge whenever possible, preferably when least appropriate. It’s quite addictive. But getting it right takes a bit of practice – it’s all too easy to lapse into grammatical correctness. Even “Romeo and Juliet” is not quite perfect: “much love” probably should have been “many love” and “such poison” maybe “so poison”.

I do, of course, realise that much of this is vanity. My doge advocacy doubtless has to do with wearing it as a badge of contemporariness and digital savoir faire. Never mind that the doge has, no doubt, already trotted off to the meme compost heap, tail between its legs. But that, too is the power of the internet. We can spend a disproportionate amount of our text-consuming lives on various forms of bloggery, either out of fun, wannabe funkiness or just because of the sheer volume of it. 

But I feel we should stay sensitised to the way in which the internet bestows prestige on certain forms of text. Naomi S Baron has observed that a great mass of netspeak is unmediated, ie produced spontaneously, and in the absence of reflection, drafting, redrafting, editing or peer-review.  There is, of course, a place for this, but the patterns of our consumption involve a risk that the mediated text may lose something of its cultural priority. It’s certainly an interesting point. And the doge meme is aimed squarely at this phenomenon: we like it because, like so many of us netizens, doge has no inhibitions about broadcasting its thoughts, moment to moment, with hilarious superficiality on topics undeserving of such treatment. 

My cat, now that I think of it, was a more reflective and introverted type. Perhaps I should be reconnecting with my feline side.

Around the world in 80 hashtags

Amanda Parks

Earlier this year, I decided to leave the safety and predictability of day-to-day life and embark on an undefined overseas adventure. I wanted absolute freedom to see, do, relax, reflect and absorb everything without a pre-determined expiration date staring at me like the stamp on a milk carton. Aside from some bookmarked dates and destinations, my slate was clean. Maybe I’d travel for 3 months or 4, or 6 or more, before growing up and returning to work. My approach was admittedly indulgent, but it was the one I needed to ensure my travel bug was sufficiently fed.

When I told various friends and colleagues about my plan I was surprised by how many asked if I’d write a travel blog. There were several reasons why my answer was no. For one, I’d always disliked the sound of the word blog and I didn’t want to be a blogger [Editor’s note: no offence taken]. More importantly, I had a sneaking suspicion that if I committed to writing a blog it would ultimately detract from, rather than add to, the experience I sought. I knew I’d feel pressured to package my days into posts that would be interesting, funny or somehow read-worthy, with the result that I’d spend hours staring at my laptop and poring over words and photos when I’d rather spend those hours staring at the ocean and pouring a deliciously refreshing drink.

The reality is that blogging, sharing, posting, commenting, tagging, and hashtagging have become so prevalent, so expected, that I felt rebellious for choosing to be a relatively quiet traveller. Why wasn’t I updating my Facebook status upon arriving in each place? Why hadn’t I joined Instagram to tell my travel tales through daily photos? Why did I take 4 months to send my first real update to a relatively small list of friends and family (by old-school email, no less)?

Let me be clear - I didn’t entirely boycott social media while travelling. I did post some Facebook updates and photos, and I reaped great benefits that arose solely because of my participation in social media. For example, I chose certain travel destinations after being inspired by friends’ photos, and I met up with friendly faces in foreign places simply because one of us had posted something on Facebook that told the other where we were. Social media can undoubtedly connect and benefit its users (travellers or not) in incredible ways.

But what I feared was getting dragged over to the dark side, the point at which we shift our focus too far away from the live experience and we become preoccupied, too occupied, with how we will capture it, tag it, post it and wait for the “likes” to filter in.

At one point during my trip, I was one of what felt like 5,000 people packed into London’s Sloane Square to watch a large screen on which Andy Murray was seeking to become the first British man to win Wimbledon in 77 years. Last year, he lost in the final and cried. This year, he was hoping to do neither. The pressure on him was monumental, as was the tension that hung over the crowd. When Murray finally won the eruption was incredible: people cheered and clapped and jumped and hugged and did whatever victory dance they could manage on the tiny piece of pavement they’d claimed as their own for the last 4 hours. It was one of those spine-tingling live sporting moments that you’re thrilled to be part of and leaves you feeling like you’ve made a new best friend in the stranger beside you... and it was a moment that I shared with my phone. Ashamed as I am to admit it, I was one of those people who couldn’t clap, jump or hug my human friends beside me because I was busy holding my digital friend above the sea of flailing arms trying to “capture the moment”. While I’m glad to have caught some great footage (which I have actually watched since), the moment would’ve been better if I’d just lived it. I caught myself wondering almost immediately: was this what the dark side felt like?

A photo finish

Happily, my travels involved very few moments like that one and, for the most part, I did what I’d hoped to do when I decided not to blog: I saw, I did, I relaxed, I reflected and I absorbed and I didn’t feel tied to a gadget while doing so.

About a month after that day in Sloane Square, I overheard a brief but brilliant exchange between two friends which, I think, reflects an increasingly unhealthy addiction to social media and the tools that feed it (arguably most striking in its younger users, but the older ones aren’t immune; certain grown-up world leaders have, after all, just been roasted for taking a selfie at Nelson Mandela’s memorial service). After logging into his Facebook account in a hostel foyer, Traveller #1 exclaimed “This is an epic photo, how can I only have 5 likes?!” and traveller #2 replied “Who cares?”. Indeed, who does care? When we post things, who are we posting them for? Should getting only 5 likes or 3 likes (or, horror of horrors, no likes) make our epic travel photo seem any less epic to us?

Social media undoubtedly has its place, but the trick is to ensure it’s used for the right reasons and without letting it detract from our real-life experiences. Because, in the end, the live show is always better than the recording.


Photograph by Amanda Parks.

Crowdsourcing a Constitution

Alana Maurushat with David Lee

When I worked at the University of Hong Kong, I had the privilege of engaging in many conversations with the world-renowned constitution-writer and scholar Professor Yash Gai. Professor Gai led constitutional reviews in Kenya and Fiji, and was asked to assist with Constitutions in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over many casual lunches with colleagues in Hong Kong, I can still recall how passionate Professor Gai was for constitutional writing that was “right” for the people of the country in question. He was a staunch believer of the idea that extensive discussion and consultation among all communities of a nation was essential for building a strong constitution that would stand the test of time: constitution writing by consensus. These constitutional reviews often involved Professor Gai and his committees to lead meetings throughout urban and remote areas of a nation. These consultations often lasted years, in order to ensure that small ethnic minorities were not neglected. The process was epic.

Given that a constitution is construed as one of the pillars of a nation’s identity, one might ask the question – why not ask the citizens to draft the constitution? With the rise in online user input platforms such as Twitter and Facebook, collaborative innovation has never been easier. It should come as no surprise that Facebook alone is used by nearly 12 million people just in Australia.

This increasing popularity of social media is exactly what the Nordic European nation of Iceland needed. Following collapse of its economy and outcry from its citizens, the Icelandic government has decided to take advantage of this method. The government introduced a process in 2011 involving a unique democratic approach of using social media such as Facebook and Twitter to identify ideas, recommendations, and provisions to be included in the new constitution. The social feedback will not be binding to the Parliament of Iceland, but it will most likely have significant influence on politicians.  Because the proposals are drafted by the public, it will be impossible for politicians to "sweep popular proposals under the carpet". Icelandic citizens are welcoming this idea too – 66% of the voters agreed in a referendum to use the resulting document as a framework for the nation’s new constitution. This unique drafting method adopted by Iceland is a prime example of "crowdsourcing".

First coined by Jeff Howe in an article posted on The Wired, the term "crowdsourcing" refers to a similar concept to outsourcing. Outsourcing involves an identified and selected individual or group of individuals developing a concept or performing work duties. Crowdsourcing is a much bigger idea – it brings in the public and involves the crowd in a creative, collaborative process. Many businesses have taken advantage of this method from as early as 2001. iStockPhoto was created as a marketplace for bloggers and web-designers to purchase stock images from a gallery of photos contributed by amateur photographers. The collaborative input provided by thousands of contributors allowed these images to be sold at very low prices, often undercutting professional photographers by as much as 99%. Other notable businesses benefiting from crowdsourcing include Reddit, Youtube and Innocentive.

Crowdsourcing through social media creates exciting opportunities, as it empowers people to participate in a true democratic process. Evidently, this method has been utilised mainly by businesses for financial gains. As such, Iceland must be commended for taking the unprecedented approach of employing crowdsourcing in politics, in an effort to produce a constitution that is “right” for its citizens. Other nations will undoubtedly take note; it won’t be long before other governments follow the unique path created by Iceland. It is arguable that the constitutions of other nations are long over-due for a reformulation, with netizen contribution.

For example, the Australian Constitution was drafted by the delegates of the States in the late 19th Century, and the only input provided by the people was voting for its adoption. However, this is a debate for another time.

    Image by James Cridland, made available by creative commons license via Flickr.

Can My Facebook Photos Negate My Good Fame and Character?

Dr Catherine Bond

Teachers of legal ethics are to some extent used to the unusual questions that arise in classes on procedures and policies for admission to practice as a solicitor or barrister. In many instances this class will be a student’s first exposure to what happens post-law school and the requirements that the student be both eligible to be admitted (having previously completed the requisite academic qualifications and practical legal training) and are suitable to be admitted, on the basis that he or she is a ‘fit and proper person’. A fit and proper person is defined to include a person of good fame and character, who is not insolvent, has not previously practised in Australia or overseas without a practising certificate, or who has not previously committed an offence. Perhaps understandably, when students become aware of these rules, closets full of skeletons past begin to open and nervous students begin to question whether this or that incident could have an impact on his or her admission to practise law.

Great emphasis has been placed in New South Wales and more generally on the act of disclosure: that an applicant disclose any prior or current behaviour that may negate their good fame and character, ranging in activities from receiving a transport fine to a finding of plagiarism while at university. The forms that potential solicitors must complete are geared towards this act of disclosure, containing a number of general conduct statements that, if one is not true about the applicant, requires the applicant to ‘strike out’ and disclose the circumstances as to why that statement may not be true. The consequences of a failure to disclose can often lead to a decision by the Legal Profession Admission Board to not admit an applicant or, if the failure to disclose is found following admission, to be struck off from legal practice.

In a recent class a discussion arose as to what impact the existence of photos on Facebook may have on an applicant’s good fame and character. The debate follows a recent flurry of reports in the media of employers asking for the username and password of potential employee’s Facebook accounts as part of a virtual ‘background check’. In turn, Facebook has advised its members not to disclose such information. The student’s question was therefore quite topical: if employers are interested in what is on a potential employee’s Facebook page, then surely the Legal Profession Admission Board might be, particularly given that many individuals have photos depicting events and other information available via that social networking site that may ultimately negate their ‘good fame and character’?

Public embarrassment from Facebook photos is not a new phenomenon; Australia’s ‘public figures’ have in the past had photos posted either by themselves or their ‘Facebook friends’ published in the media. In 2008 a number of provocative photos of Olympic gold medallist Stephanie Rice that appeared on Facebook were subsequently published in a number of Australia’s major newspapers, tarnishing both the public ‘golden girl’ image of Rice and also her then-boyfriend, fellow Olympic swimmer Eamon Sullivan. Rice’s subsequent 2010 experiences with Twitter, which culminated in a teary press conference where she publicly apologised for her offensive tweet, further indicate the damage that an over-exuberant use of social media can cause.

Yet it is becoming difficult to avoid social networking if students want to keep informed about events going on in law schools, universities and law firms, with an increasing number of public and private organisations either creating Facebook pages or Twitter feeds to notify interested parties of news, legal updates and events. In England the UK Supreme Court has an official Twitter feed where the release of decisions are posted, questions answered and job opportunities with the court listed. Indeed, it is likely that, with the greater proliferation of both Generation Y and the ‘digital generation’ into the workforce, this trend will both continue and grow. Thus, on the one hand, social networks are a valuable source of information for students, but on the other, they have become areas where students may not use these sites for their primary purpose – ‘networking’ and connecting with friends – for fear that their activities may be accessed by potential employers or ultimately affect admission to legal practice.

It appears that today’s students must find a balance between a fleeting moment that may have affected their ‘good fame and character’ and the permanent digital capture of that moment on Facebook. In any event, we may be moving towards a system where potential solicitors have to disclose what is on their Facebook pages.

@Courtroomjunkie: Leave your phone at home!

Fatimah Omari

A young man recently had the audacity to steal a police officer’s hat from a Sydney courtroom. To the embarrassment of the thief, CCTV footage showed him looking up at the cameras seconds before committing the crime. Were it not for the CCTV cameras installed in the courtroom, the Police would have been at a loss to explain how a $150 hat could suddenly vanish into thin air. So what could possibly motivate the brazen young thief? The man, a part time dancer, sought a genuine police hat to add an element of reality to his dance ensemble. The magistrate did not share the same zeal for costume authenticity and described the crime as ‘stupidity at its highest’, placing the man on a two year good behaviour bond.

This story got me thinking: what impact do we have on the administration of justice when we bring our own technology into a courtroom? In a world of iPods, iPhones and iPads, we have clearly become addicted to a drug called technology and consumed by one mantra: iCan’tLiveWithoutIt. While the judiciary is embracing the shift towards sophisticated electronic courtrooms, many judges remain somewhat hostile towards the use of electronics by members of the public. The capacity of modern mobile phones and laptops to covertly capture sound and video or to instantly transmit information across the globe at the touch of a finger is proving to be a challenge for courts and judges.

Restrictions on the use of technology by members of the public are increasingly being introduced to avoid unnecessary interruptions to court proceedings and to protect the identities of witnesses and jurors.

A young Sydney woman recently discovered that justice is swift for those who flout the rules. The woman in question was charged with contempt after her inner photographer came out to play. She had heard through the grapevine that a family friend was serving on a jury and, to mark what she believed to be a notable occasion, the woman took a photo of the courtroom and several jurors’ faces. In a world of tweets and tumblrs, such images can be mass-broadcast, edited, tagged, discussed, re-tweeted and blogged in a matter of minutes.

This woman insisted that she attended court with good intentions and for the purpose of satisfying her curiosity of the Australian legal system. The judge handed down a slap on the wrist and released her without conviction. In contrast, a UK judge recently sentenced a man to two months in prison in order to send a simple message to the public: photography in the courtroom will not be tolerated. Imagine the impact on a closed session of court if a reckless Gen Y juror tweeted a blow-by-blow account of proceedings.

It may be obvious to some that the taking of photos, capturing video or recording speech and sounds in a courtroom is a no-no. However, the cases mentioned above are a sign of the times and reflect the impact of the technology revolution on human behaviour. It has become commonplace for a person to pull out their phone in response to anything mildly photogenic, so it should come as no surprise that the knee-jerk reaction of one woman, who was excited to see a familiar face in the jury, was to take a photo. The use of camera phones to capture and instantly circulate weird and wonderful images has become popular, particularly amongst younger generations. With every moment now being regarded as a Kodak one, the photographer feels compelled to share with masses of digital friends and random acquaintances.

Of course mobile phones and cameras are not the only devices capable of frustrating judges and court officers. When I worked as a paralegal on a case involving terrorism charges, I witnessed the transformation of the Sydney West Trial Court into a fortress. Dual security checkpoints at the entrance to the complex and the courtroom made me feel like I was passing through stringent airport security. Since the trial concerned matters of national security, all recording-enabled devices had to be surrendered prior to entry into the courtroom. Separation anxiety ran high.

The intimidating routine of being scanned with a wand, having bags checked and handing over phones and laptops quickly became annoying for paralegals and regular visitors. However, there was no denying that electronics were a potential security risk given their diminutive size and ubiquitous nature. According to a court officer, confiscation of my iPod was necessary as (with a small attachment) it is able to record sound.

The technology revolution has proved to be a double edged sword. With respect to courtrooms, the risk lies not only in the ability to discreetly photograph or record sensitive material, but also the ability to instantly transmit this data. Fortunately, such violations of court rules are minimal and, for the majority of people, common sense prevails over a desire to share images taken inside the Supreme Court.

 
Image courtesy of Robin Hutton, made available by creative commons licence via Flickr.

Small press networks in the digital age

Julie Koh, Zoe Dattner and Louise Swinn

Sleepers Publishing is an independent publishing house based in Melbourne. Founded by Zoe Dattner and Louise Swinn in 2003, it advocates for new and emerging writers in Australia. Writer Julie Koh interviewed Louise and Zoe about the implications of new technologies for the work of Sleepers Publishing and other small presses across Australia.

How does social networking impact on how you connect with readers?

Social media is a really quick and easy way to speak to our audience frequently and light-heartedly. We use Twitter, which is big in the publishing industry, and Facebook. Some of our authors are great social networkers: Steven Amsterdam is big on Facebook, with regular and interesting updates, and miles vertigan is a prolific Tweeter. His tweets are funny and irreverent, and a great companion to his book, Life Kills - they have a similar style and sense of humour to the book, so they are each a tiny publicity stunt.

The Sleepers App for iPhone comprises short stories from previous Almanacs. What was your rationale behind creating the app? Are you finding this technology to be a worthwhile venture?

We were aware a few years ago that reading habits were starting to change, and as we began to make our existing books available as ebooks we also wanted to dive into a new format. The iPhone App seemed like a good way to start because we know many users of the iPhone, and the great thing about it is that it’s with you all the time. There have been sales but digital formats are generally slow at the moment, and plenty of our readers still prefer paper books. However, it’s been a really useful way for us to get our toes in the water of digital reading, and we have discovered a fondness there. We are, increasingly, surrounded with friends and family reading on Kindles and iPads.

You publish in both paper book and ebook formats. Are you finding one format to be more popular than the other? How much do you think this will change in the future?

All of our books are now available as ebooks. We still sell more paper books, by a long margin, but it’s slowly changing. It can be hard to find the books you want as ebooks in Australia, due to territorial rights, so readers are sometimes wary of investing in the new technology until everything is available. However, availability is increasing, in multiple formats, starting, for us, with Readings and Kobo, and we envisage a steady rise in ebook take-up from our readers over the next few years.

A few years ago, the Small Press Underground Networking Community (SPUNC), in which you are both involved, commissioned a report by Kate Freeth, A lovely kind of madness: Small and independent publishing in Australia (2007). Freeth found that some of the more common difficulties that small presses face relate to issues of distribution, publicity, marketing and public awareness. How is SPUNC helping small presses to confront these difficulties?

SPUNC has been invaluable at connecting small presses with the ebook retailers/distributors, and therefore showing us the market that is out there. It can be difficult to keep up to date with all of the technology as it changes so it’s terrific having someone "on the ground", digitally speaking, to keep us in the loop. In terms of paper book distribution and marketing, the SPUNC site and blog and surrounding social networks creates an easy to access way into a community of likeminded publishers, and a community of eager readers. It’s the linking and educating that SPUNC does so well.

Can you comment further on how new technology has had, and will have, an impact on the operation of Sleepers Publishing and small presses in Australia?

We can’t speak with any authority about other small presses but, at Sleepers, it has been terrifically energising to know that we are now able to access a worldwide community. Prior to ebooks, it has been near impossible for us to take our books out of Australia and New Zealand, but now we are in the global market. We look forward to seeing that grow and continue. Sometime in the future, we will print fewer books – ideally only printing on demand – therefore reducing the need for warehousing or, as is the case at the moment, overcrowding our micro-tiny office. We look forward to that day!

Louise and Zoe discuss the Sleepers iPhone app,

the founding of Sleepers Publishing and paper books.

Visionary or 'slackademic'? Social media's role in tomorrow's academia

Indigo Willing & Tseen Khoo

As the 21st century unfolds, various types of new media rival, and in some cases surpass, earlier forms of computer-mediated communication (CMC) in the extent to which they impact our lives. Twitter and Facebook have been used most stunningly (and with astounding results) in the realms of politics and social protest movements. This is evident internationally: Icelandic MP Birgitta Jonsdottir has suggested, for example, that Iceland develop a more democratic constitution via the use of Facebook, while social networks played a notable role in the overthrow of Hosni Mubarak in Egypt and the ‘Arab Spring’ protests more broadly. Most recently, we have seen digitally mediated activism in the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ protests, where a tweet in Canada on 13 July 2011 turned into a local protest in Zuccotti Park, New York City on 17 September 2011, before quickly escalating into an ongoing global movement.

In academic fields, however, enthusiasm for social media is not always evident. Just as some disciplines in academia struggled with the idea of harnessing the potential of CMC for their research in the 1990s, many academics currently remain resistant to opportunities to shift or expand their own networking activities over into new media such as Facebook and Twitter. From our experiences with the creation of the Asian Australian Studies Research Network (AASRN), we have found that using new technology – and social media, in particular - creates conflicting rather than united discussions in academia.

Anecdotally, many academics mire themselves in the negative aspects of platforms such as Twitter, or dismiss all social media as activities befitting dilettantes and slackers. This negative orientation harkens back to the traditional denigration of academics who engaged too regularly and enthusiastically with the media. Further, many academics are sceptical of 'slacktivism' or 'clicktivism' (both pejorative terms for the emptiness that can underpin online declarations of commitment to a political, humanitarian or ethical cause).

Having hauled the AASRN network into the Web 2.0 world last year after being based for several years on 'traditional' email, and having embraced social media for several current projects, our perspectives straddle the old-school technology of mailing lists and static bulletin boards and today’s enmeshed social media strategies.

The advent of intensive social media platforms has brought about a significant transformation in the way we run our academic research network. With an active Twitter stream (@aasrn), professional website and Facebook group, we are reaching many more people than ever before. The immediacy and constancy of contact through social media has served the network well, allowing us to cultivate a sense of momentum and breadth of membership.

AASRN has been around (informally) since 2000, as an offline and sometimes online group, and occasional gathering, of academics with shared interests in Asian Australian studies. It was founded to establish and deepen scholarship in the field of Asian Australian studies. Is this aspect supported through the dynamism of the social media forums? Or is new media making our research network connections more shallow (as feared generally about social networks)? Perhaps it’s too early to tell, given our short, only year-long engagement with social media thus far.

The inaugural Asian Australian Film Forum (AAFF 2011), however, is an event that has embraced (and been embraced by) social media, with event momentum and word-of-tweet spurring a full programme of screenings and panels of Asian Australian filmmakers and media types.

That an event about evolving screen cultures should do so well using new media and social media is not all that surprising. Most stories these days are shot on digital video. Gone are the days when budding filmmakers cut their teeth using 8mm or 16mm film, a process that also became increasingly expensive and limited to a privileged few (especially with post-production costs factored in). Even the term ‘film festival’, if not redundant, has a quaint sound to it now.

The Internet plays a vital role in the distribution and promotion of contemporary video productions, fostering the necessary networks to support them. This includes the film press, film festival organisers, film industry bodies, television networks and most importantly, film fans who can (and do) actively communicate with each other through social media.

This heightened accessibility to digital technologies nurtures fresh perspectives and innovative approaches to create and showcase Asian Australian stories. Both Twitter and Facebook have been indispensable to the inaugural AAFF, from sourcing filmmakers to promoting the film programme, to strengthening the engagement of academically-founded entities (such as the AASRN) with Asian Australian creatives and the broader community.

There will always be a “digital divide”, and as Turkle has more recently suggested, there will always be a risk of becoming too introspective due to social networking. For the purposes of the AASRN, however, the horizons of connectivity are impressively vast and, contrary to people becoming more alone together, the web is proving to be a powerful tool for our promotion of collective engagements, on and offline.