[NOTE: this post originally appeared on Datachondria, a blog dedicated to technology, data, and modern life.]

An interesting post by Michael Fienen about David Galper's keynote presentation at a recent HighEdWeb conference -- and the Twitter backchannel that resulted (it starts at 12pm).

Twitter allows two things to happen very well: mobs feed on themselves, and the slippery slope gets very steep and extremely slick. There’s also the snowballing analogy... Bottom line, there was a lack of respect for the topic, a clear void in researching the audience, and just bad presentational ability. A perfect storm, if you will. And once the tweeting started, it simply became more fun to be in the stream than put up with the presentation. In a way, it was less about being snarky towards the speaker, and more about amusing each other by sharing and exaggerating the pain.

We touched on this a few months ago: the idea that Twitter is, as yet, a social space largely unregulated by norms of behaviour. There are further thoughts elsewhere about this particular example and some possible lessons: are we moving from a model of passive consumption in conferences to one of active participation? Does the 'unconference' model so successfully employed by, for example, BookCamp Vancouver last week, provide more value to attendees? Has the burden changed from audiences (to pay attention to the presenters) to presenters (to better know their audiences)?

[NOTE: this post originally appeared on Datachondria, a blog dedicated to technology, data, and modern life.]

The guy at the back will be on Twitter when the Powerpoint starts

A number of people have remarked recently that the environment in which someone can switch from being a Twitter neophyte to a true believer is a business conference. Conferences give Twitter users the opportunity to provide commentary (and factual corrections) to what is being presented; to provide updates to a remote audience; and to engage with one another on a number of levels from professional networking to semi-anonymous flirtation.

It's fascinating that the feeling of a 'back channel' can provoke not only a more open and participatory discussion, but can also license behavior that would otherwise be frowned upon. A 'kids at the back of the class' mentality can develop, wherein the shortcomings of the presenter's style or of the venue are called out. These kinds of things would not be considered appropriate if they involved passing notes or calling across the room. But Twitter doesn't just make these things surreptitiously possible; it is also so new that the ground-rules for social behavior have not yet been established.

But part of it may be that the medium itself allows such a broad variety of messages that social norms can never become established.

Within this, of course, lies that rather tedious discussion about the extent to which one's online identity -- masked by some measure of anonymity (or, at least, not-there-ness) -- can exist distinct of one's "real-world" identity. But it's telling that several newcomers to Twitter ask questions about whether they should establish separate accounts for personal and professional identities. That's part of the appeal of a Facebook app like Selective Twitter: it allows you to filter your output for potentially different audiences.

But as you spend more time with Twitter, it becomes clear that people's expectations of the media are that it provide a constant mixture of personal and professional. It isn't at all unusual for you to learn what a business contact ate for dinner, or to read a friend filtering a technical business conference. Part of that is the openness of the platform: you can choose who to follow, be it Neil Gaiman or your best friend. With that range of participants, what kinds of social rule set could we collectively agree to apply?

These are, of course, just a handful of the social reasons for Twitter's popularity, quite distinct from its more frequently cited technical adaptability. It provokes an extra level of interaction that simply didn't -- couldn't -- exist before. And it may remain, to some extent, permanently wild.