i , e, u, my and 2.0

This page considers adoption of e-, u- and i- prefixes in product, service and corporate names over the past 20 years and the more recent '2.0' label.

It covers -

• introduction
• going emo
• generation i
• beyond 2.0
• 'linguistic comfort'

It supplements the broader discussion of branding and naming elsewhere on this site.

     introduction

Naming reflects a culture or epoch's values and preoccupations, with past enterprises in republics and monarchies for example hastening to discriminate themselves from competitors by featuring words such as 'royal', 'crown', 'palace', 'grand' and 'imperial' in corporate or product names. Our own age - despite pretensions to being a 'release 2.0' (somehow richer, smoother and more thoroughly debugged than humbler precursors) - is no different.

The past twenty years have thus seen decoration of a range of businesses, institutional practices and products with i- and e- prefixes ... e-government, e-democracy, i-politics, e-learning, i-generation, e-health ... that have a talismanic value but to a jaundiced eye look as quaint or self-serving as those past monikers.

Initial use may have had some impact but the proliferation of 'i', 'e', 'my' and '2.0' names has increasingly meant those names lack bite - they disappear into the background - or lack credibility, perceived as elevating fashion over substance or as inferior knock-offs of innovation such as the iPod.

One marketing contact thus described them as "easily tarnished digital bling", reminiscent of the 'u' names fashionable in the 1980s and to be avoided by anyone serious about brand-building or not desperate to persuade a venture capital manager. They are also an indication of the lack of imagination (or merely the timidity) apparent in the naming industry.

Prefizes also quarantine online activity from the offline variety, on occasion obscuring continuities between digital and nondigital business practice or common principles. Much e-government, for example, isn't more than 24/7 access to brochures and media releases.

     going emo

In the beginning was the electronic 'e', a tag that could be conveniently tacked onto the front of a variety of words (albeit with confusion about capitalisation and hyphenation).

'Claiming by naming' included -

Selfconscious cuteness such as e-ducation, e-visioning and e-trepreneuring did not flourish.

     generation i

Pop sociologists have had fun twittering about the 'me generation' (supposedly more hedonistic than earlier cohorts) or the 'i-generation' (at once more information savvy, independent, inventive, intuitive and interesting).

In practice the major influence on naming seems to be traditional imitation, with iconic information products, dot appliances and services such as the iMac, iBook, iPhone, iPod, iTunes and iVillage spawning a range of competitors.

Such echos include -

Some naming (or merely the products) seems strange - for example the iBoxer: underwear with pockets for music devices (you stash your iPod in your jocks?) - or hoky, such as iScream.

The latter has been promoted as "a call to action" forthe younger consumers "who live on their cellphones and computers", with the 'i' supposedly signalling that the product is cool - in the case of iScream presumably cold rather than merely cool, as few people crave lukewarm icecream.

One marketer claimed "use of the lowercase 'i' says it is targeted" to young adults and that the i is "emblematic":

It stands for information and the Internet. It also stands for the first person, a first-person, active, user-generated content that's catching something of the moment.

Use of the 'i' reflects the privileging of 'information' in popular culture and business-speak - something with connotations of power, control, modernity, growth, the future (the 'information society', the 'information economy', information engineering).

As noted in discussion elsewhere on this site regarding digital literacy and cyberspace myths, the conceptualisation of much of that information and interactivity is atavistic, with -

• businesses and government agencies for example on occasion collecting data because "that is a good thing" or as an attribute of a forwardlooking organisation with professional values rather than because they can/will make effective use of that data
• expectations among consumers that knowledge can be assimilated through osmosis (it is enough to know that own a set of Britannica or can scrape text from Wikipedia without the challenge of critically reading that text or evaluating through reference to other sources).

'Imitation as the lamest form of flattery' is also evident in the social software and video sharing sectors, where competitors have sought to appropriate the gloss of Napster, Friendster, Jaxstr, MySpace and YouTube.

The online menagerie thus includes Dogster, Madster, Blubster, Aimster, Farmster, Medster, Flixster, Hackster, Ratster, Gothster, Catster, Petster, Slackster, Flackster, Pollster, Hamster, Porkster, Introvertster, Pigster, Girlster, Flickster, Blingster, Badster, Bugster, Callster, Snubster, Hatester, Utube, Ytube, Xtube, Vtube, Hootube, Mootube, Zootube and the inevitable Porntube, Manster and Boobtube.

'You' names include Vudu and Promptu.

Matthew Zook reported in 2008 that domain names that start with 'my' more than tripled between 2005 and 2008, from 217,000 to 712,000.

'On Language: Me, Myself and I' by Caroline Winter in the New York Times of 3 August 2008 offered another perspective, asking why we [ie 'Anglo' readers]

capitalize the word "I"? There's no grammatical reason for doing so, and oddly enough, the majuscule "I" appears only in English.

Consider other languages: some, like Hebrew, Arabic and Devanagari-Hindi, have no capitalized letters, and others, like Japanese, make it possible to drop pronouns altogether. The supposedly snobbish French leave all personal pronouns in the unassuming lowercase, and Germans respectfully capitalize the formal form of "you" and even, occasionally, the informal form of "you," but would never capitalize "I." Yet in English, the solitary "I" towers above "he," "she," "it" and the royal "we." Even a gathering that includes God might not be addressed with a capitalized "you."

... what effect has capitalizing "I" but not "you" -- or any other pronoun -- had on English speakers? It's impossible to know, but perhaps our individualistic, workaholic society would be more rooted in community and quality and less focused on money and success if we each thought of ourselves as a small "i" with a sweet little dot. There have, of course, been plenty of rich and dominant cultures throughout history that have gotten by just fine without capitalizing the first-person pronoun or ever writing it down at all. There have also been cultures that committed atrocities even while capitalizing "you."

Still, there seems to be something to it all. Modern e-mail culture has shown that many English speakers feel perfectly comfortable dismissing all uses of capitalization -- and even correct spelling, for that matter. But take this a step further: i suggest that You try, as an experiment, to capitalize those whom You address while leaving yourselves in the lowercase. It may be a humbling experience. It was for me.

     beyond 2.0?

Rhetoric about the net during the 1990s featured the theme of '2.0', an adoption of software industry lingo for identification of the second generation of product (the 'release' that, unless you are unwise enough to be acting as crash test dummy - aka consumer - debugging code for Microsoft, won't fall over unexpectedly).

The theme was popularised by Esther Dyson, doyenne of the US technolibertarians, in her Release 2.0: A Design for Living in the Digital Age (New York: Broadway 1997) and Being Digital (New York: Knopf 1995). It has been embraced by extropians, who fantasise about imminent replacement of release 1.0 carbon-based life forms with a 2.0 silicon variety (no zits, better haircuts, no need to worry about clean socks or girlfriends).

It has also been embraced by 'Web 2.0' enthusiasts, in turn emulated by promoters of 'Government 2.0', 'Learning 2.0', 'Advertising 2.0', 'Marketing 2.0', Finance 2.0', 'Education 2.0', 'Office 2.0', 'Philanthropy 2.0', 'PR 2.0', 'School 2.0', 'Enterprise 2.0' or 'Business 2.0', 'Management 2.0', 'Congress 2.0', 'Parliament 2.0', 'Health 2.0', 'Food 2.0', 'Mesh 2.0', 'Faculty 2.0', 'Law 2.0' and even 'Porn 2.0', 'eSlavery 2.0' and 'Environment 2.0'.

In practice, it is unclear whether -

• much '2.0' (or '2.1') is qualitatively different from the '1.0' and - more challengingly - the change is for the better
• the label has much meaning
• use of '2.0' to characterise organisations, institutional processes or social phenomena benefits anyone other than gurus and publishers.

At its most benign the 2.0 tag is often just a marketing gimmick without substance. It is hard to tell the difference between government 2.0 and government 1.0, apart from an entry in an agency's annual report indicating that several hundred thousand dollars disappeared into the ether through payment to a 2.0 'change agent' rather than being more usefully invested in manning phones and enquiry counters. In some circles 'business 2.0' is a shorthand for a bold disregard of 1.0 notions that revenue ultimately has to be greater than costs.

The darker side of 2.0 is a 'cyberselfish' elitism, a dismissal of hard-gained wisdom from the past and an implicit willingness to ignore the needs of 1.0 populations, those who don't count because they "don't count or can't code", are offline or simply underwhelmed by fads such as blogging, social software and wiki.

     'linguistic comfort'

Some marketers have taken refuge in 'linguistic comfort', echoing the names of leading businesses.

Google has thus been claimed as the inspiration for Ooma, Qoosa, Wakoopa, BooRah, Tagtooga, Squidoo, Oodle, Renkoo, Kaboodle.

Others have taken comfort in the same 'cute' names as their peers, for example Eefoof, Abazab, Qumana, Xobni, Tendango, Lala, Mambler, Bebo and Meebo, Wamadu, Baluuu, Mumu, Dukudu, Noumba, Numpa and Plappadu.





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