—Timoni

I disagree with the suggestion that TechCrunch is “doing the best it can to be open”. Michael Arrington is doing exactly the same he always does. To explain that, what follows is a fairly complete explanation of how I interpret his TechCrunch operation, methods and writing style. I hope to get across why I feel it’s important to vocally call him out, oppose him and his blog, and why I’m seriously asking that people shun TechCrunch and drive their negativity out of our industry.

What follows is some analysis of how TechCrunch works

So, people absolutely do hate on TechCrunch. Some people actually, passionately hate Michael Arrington. At all levels of severity, Michael Arrington has earned that criticism. TechCrunch is a host for his personal attacks and vendetta, and publicity stunts, yet presented under the guise of being influential ‘Technology News’, even syndicated into The Washington Post. There is anger, certainly, but it does deserves ridicule. After years and years of egotistical behaviour and abuse of influence, I’m pleased to see more people speak out vocally when Arrington flares up. Sooner or later, I do hope that it gets through and causes TechCrunch to fail.

On the issue at hand, John Gruber has it fundamentally right: When you acquire information that you know to be stolen, there is no ethical dilemma. A decent, honest person does not publish, end of. Arrington however is not just electing to publish, but to ensure the incident translates into maximum exposure for him and TechCrunch.

As ever, a decent number of people who don’t actually read TechCrunch—myself of course included—are vocally appalled by the ethical vacuum that Michael Arrington operates in.

Arrington’s manipulation of the situation is actually not so complicated, and serves a number of very specific purposes, necessary to maximise the response to the story. This faux ethical dilemma is an important strategic prerequisite to drag the report out. It’s about both increasing the drama of the incident and getting certain groups of people playing off each other. Of course, it’s completely insincere.

1. It’s about making TechCrunch a core part of the incident

The stolen documents are apparently going to be made public by the person that stole them, but they provided them to TechCrunch early, as some sort of exclusive to break the story. It’s very important for TechCrunch to capitalise on getting first access and move the story on so that it’s no-longer reported as ‘documents were stolen from Twitter’, but as ‘documents were leaked to TechCrunch’.

By putting themselves at the centre, this becomes story about TechCrunch, too. So having said that all of the stolen documents are going to be available from another source, TechCrunch have implied their selectivity in reporting makes a difference to the story. It doesn’t.

2. It’s about blurring the lines of ethical acceptability

As stated above, publishing any document that you fully know to be stolen crosses an ethical line. Deriving a story from a stolen document that is kept private is a bit grey. So by adding a tale of personal dilemma Arrington adopts a false air of decency to deflect from the crux, that is publishing any of this is repulsively indecent. He highlights that some ‘embarrassing’ content will be graciously withheld. The reporter that ambled eagerly over the ethical boundary is operating a separate, entirely irrelevant ethics microcosm on the other side.

These few self-indulgent paragraphs about how considered and responsible Michael Arrington is being with these stolen documents provides fuel for an import half of the active TechCrunch community: Fanboys. Fanboys are those who blindly follow Arrington’s lead and ego. He’s famous, and maybe on the internet act under the illusion that you can be close to the famous by participating in their presence. He’s a good, manipulative writer, too, and for those who buy into his style they rally around his humour and baiting. Sometimes, they’re just struggling businessmen desperate to pimp their start-up.

In the comments pages, Fanboys jump on Michael’s self-professed demonstration of ethical decency with complements and applause. In doing so they provide important pivots for follow-up posturing, and citable support for continuing the stories. More importantly, their supportive contributions dilute the torrent of abuse that will inevitably be posted by TechCrunch’s other faction; trolls.

Trolls are self-explanatory and exist in all communities. TechCrunch hosts a concentrated, especially bitter kind of troll, though, stemming from the attitude and style of the TechCrunch blog itself; TechCrunch is itself a troll, and you reap what you sow.

Stories like these, the Last.FM saga, and the personal attacks on Blaine Cook are all based on abuse, negativity and scandal. These are the only kinds of story that get TechCrunch special attention. The people that involve themselves in the TechCrunch community are those that respond to this abuse and negativity. It’s no surprise then that they dish it out themselves. Some are trolling back in disgust, others hope to imitate the cutting cruelty of Arrington’s own writing. None of them really care whether they’re trolling with TechCrunch, or at TechCrunch. It’s just an exercise in juvenile bullying.

And what does it achieve?

Michael Arrington’s talent as a writer is that of manipulation. His cynical passages in this story and others exist to distract from contentious, amoral aspects of his reporting, and to associate himself and his brand with a breaking story.

In the Last.FM coverage vast passages of text and a completely meaningless email screenshot were used to disguise that they had no real evidence. In the instance of Twitter’s stolen documents, he’s posturing to make the subsequent publication of some stolen material seem acceptable on the grounds that it isn’t the publication of some other stolen material.

It’s a bit intricate, but it’s not about being open or honest. Arrington is supremely good at what he does and at playing his community on the big stories. I happen to find what he does vile.

An open door at TechCrunch leads only to a hall of mirrors.