Is blogging the new investigative journalism? I've thought so for some time. It's much-needed, because the "old, original" 60 Minutes-style investigative journalism -- once touted as a guardian of democracy -- eventually became so one-sided and elitist that coverups became its stock in trade. Whereas investigative journalists once exposed coverups, this complete role reversal created a need for a brand-new breed -- not investigative journalists, but investigators of journalists.

The new breed has a name, of course.

And it has sent many shudders through the ranks of the once-vaunted investigative journalists.

Bloggers.

Who else is shuddering?

When I was a kid (way back in the days before Michel Foucault and the deconstructionists) there used to be people known as intellectuals, who believed that there existed a thing called Truth. In the search for the latter, the former used to engage in things like open discussion, they encouraged intellectual diversity, and they were often willing to question their most basic premises. But eventually, the intellectual class succumbed (in much the same way as the investigative journalist counterparts) to a decadence grounded in the abandonment of truth itself. While there's always been a gap between the intelligentsia and the citizenry, in my view this abandonment of truth (often accompanied by uncompromising politicization) created another serious credibility gulf.

A gulf that once again, bloggers are stepping in to span.

A guy named Tim Dunlop is convinced that, by stepping into this intellectual vacuum, bloggers are obliterating the increasingly anachronistic distinction between intellectuals and the citizenry.

....[T]he distinction between "the" intellectuals and the citizens is often overstated and tends to be anti-democratic, assigning the vast mass to the passive role of spectator in most societal debates.

And here's where blogging comes in. Blogging changes all that to an extent that wasn't imaginable even a year ago. By giving an increasingly legitimate forum to anyone who can hold the attention of an audience, blogging has provided at least one of the technical means of dissolving the division between intellectual and citizen.

So rather than being in decline, as it is fashionable to suggest, the category of "public intellectual" in this sense is exploding.

That's one of the biggest problems for me.... How the hell am I supposed to filter information?

Trickle down or percolation?

Anyway, the Dunlop piece is a must read -- especially on the mechanics of how blogging makes people think:

Blogging does not (and should not) try and emulate the sophistication of, say, an academic presentation or paper. It shouldn't even try and emulate the precision of a news report, though paradoxically, as I've said, one its best functions is to fact-check such news reports. The attraction and strength of blogging is that it is informal, first draftish, and more than a little breathless.

For the individual blogger, or even for the reader who decides to leave a comment, there is a real blowtorch-to-the-belly aspect to blogging in that, by engaging in political debate in such a public way, people often move beyond their own knowledge horizon, or come up against people who are simply better informed than they are, or who have thought about the topic more deeply. Under such circumstances bloggers can be forced to do their growing up on a subject in public, which can be a difficult thing. But it is also good thing, and it gets us back to the idea, espoused most fully by conservative thinker Christopher Lasch, that argument precedes understanding and is central to democratic opinion formation.

Lasch says that democracy requires argument and that public argument involving ordinary citizens has been usurped by an elite, a group of insiders who either because of political connections, expertise or other institutional reasons have easier access to the media and are therefore able to dominate public discourse. Such debate then tends to happen within pre-defined parameters that reflect the education, specialisation and norms of that elite. Thus, not only do they dominate public argument by virtue of their elite access and knowledge, they also tend to define the topics, terms and presentation of such debate and are liable to judge any lay contribution as illegitimate.

The net affect is not only anti-democratic, in that democracy relies on public argument between all sectors of society, not just its elites, but the very idea of debate-as-learning gets turned on its head. Instead of seeing arguments as a source of knowledge, they become seen as a sign of lack of knowledge. This criticism is misplaced because as Lasch says, "our search for reliable information is itself guided by the questions that arise during arguments about a given course of action. It is only by subjecting our preferences and projects to the test of debate that we come to understand what we know and what we still need to learn. Until we have to defend our opinions in public, they remain opinions in Lippmann's pejorative sense - half-formed convictions based on random impressions and unexamined assumptions. It is the act of articulating and defending our views that lifts them out of the category of 'opinions,' gives them shape and definition, and makes it possible for others to recognize them as a description of their own experience as well. In short, we come to know our own minds only by explaining ourselves to others."

Lasch's ideal was that arguments aren't won by shouting down your opponent but by changing their minds.

More trickling, more shuddering!