Reprinted from Slate By Farhad Manjoo
Once or twice a week, I get a letter taking me to task for Slate’s commenting policy. The reader wants to tell me that I suck, but he doesn’t want to log in to Slate’s comment system using his credentials for Facebook, Google, Yahoo, or Twitter. Obviously this requirement doesn’t bother everyone; hundreds of people happily sign in every week to tell me I suck. Yet I imagine that there are lots more people who are itching to chime in but who are put out by the login process.
. . .
I can’t speak for my bosses, who might feel differently than I do. But as a writer, my answer is no—I don’t want anonymous commenters. Everyone who works online knows that there’s a direct correlation between the hurdles a site puts up in front of potential commenters and the number and quality of the comments it receives. The harder a site makes it for someone to post a comment, the fewer comments it gets, and those comments are generally better.
I think Slate’s commenting requirements—and those of many other sites—aren’t stringent enough. Slate lets people log in with accounts from Google and Yahoo, which are essentially anonymous; if you want to be a jerk in Slate’s comments, create a Google account and knock yourself out. If I ruled the Web, I’d change this. I’d make all commenters log in with Facebook or some equivalent third-party site, meaning they’d have to reveal their real names to say something in a public forum. . . .
Web sites should move toward requiring people to reveal their real names when engaging in all online behavior that’s understood to be public—when you’re posting a restaurant review or when you’re voting up a story on Reddit, say. In almost all cases, the Web would be much better off if everyone told the world who they really are.