PressEthic

Cheating can come in many forms; it's not just glancing over the shoulder of a classmate to obtain an answer on a Calculus test. What about when the public is cheated? Is purposefully misleading people for personal gain ethical? One would probably assume the answer is no. But what if the consequences for those who were misled are harmless? This question has been debated with the revelation that James Frey’s novel, "A Million Little Pieces," was not, in fact, a nonfiction memoir, which he previously claimed.

On the Business page of the New York Times today, an intriguing headline reads, “The Lonelygirl That Really Wasn’t.” For four months what appeared to be a video diary of techie home schooled teenager, “Bree,” was posted on YouTube.com, a video feed site that has become increasingly popular. People all over the world have followed the “episodes,” blogged about them, commented on fan sites, and debated the issue of whether this video diary was the real deal.

The LA Times reported that,

"Since June, the videos have regularly made it to the top of YouTube's daily "Most Viewed" list, averaging about 200,000 views each, with several topping 600,000 — viewership many cable TV executives would kill for."

On YouTube.com, where the videos can be found, comments from users on the exposure the diary as fake range from the disappointed to supportive to outraged.

Demonstrating the popularity and level of debate over the videos, three fans took the time to trace emails sent by the pseudoname "Lonelygirl15" back to the Creative Agents Agency in Los Angeles. Two filmmakers, Ramesh Flinders and Miles Beckett, have been exposed as the creators of the video diary, which is rumored to be the beginnings of a horror movie. Jessica Rose, a not-so-techie actress from New Zealand, plays ‘Bree’. Photos of the actress were tracked down online by Matt Forenski, the son of a reporter for a well-known blog in Silicon Valley.

‘The Creators,’ presumably Flinders and Beckett, posted on Lonelygirl’s website, saying,

"Our intention from the outset has been to tell a story — A story that could only be told using the medium of video blogs and the distribution power of the Internet. A story that is interactive and constantly evolving with the audience."

A software engineer working with Flinders and Beckett, Grant Steinfeld, was initially unsure of whether what they were doing was ethical, admitting,

"'We were all under N.D.A.’s,' Mr. Steinfeld said, referring to non-disclosure agreements the cast — and their friends — were asked to sign to preserve the mystery of Lonelygirl15. 'They had a lawyer involved,' he said. 'My first impression was like, wow, can this be legitimate? Is this ethical? I was very concerned about that in the beginning.'"

The LA Times interviewed a fan upset by the revelation:

"Chris Patterson, the Tulsa, Okla., software engineer who is part of the group that discovered the CAA connection, said in a phone interview, ‘I still want to see how the story ends.’ As for the disappointment many fans are venting on the YouTube pages, Patterson said, 'You mess with the emotions of real people and then tell them it was fake and they feel betrayed.'"

Was this an unethical act on the part of the filmmakers, or does this fall under the banner of ‘creative license’? The filmmakers set up a fake profile on YouTube.com, responded to fans’ emails as ‘Bree’ and concealed their location. The video portrayed Bree’s story without any kind of disclosure that it was completely fictional. In short, the creators intentionally deceived the public. How can this be construed as ethical?

Thousands of people watched those videos, relating to Bree’s story and feeling emotionally connected to her life. Websites are dedicated simply to providing a forum in which viewers and fans can discuss their feelings on Bree’s life. Would that many people have hit up Lonelygirl15’s YouTube.com site if they had known that the star of the videos was an actress playing a role with a fictionalized storyline? Probably not.

But does it matter? Should we condemn the creators of the now-revealed series as unethical, money-hungry predators on people’s vulnerable and trusting nature? Or since, unlike the James Frey scandal, people were not paying to see the work, did the creators have a responsibility to give up their creative license and reveal the mystery behind the diary? The Internet provides an amazingly open forum for the sharing of ideas and art forms and allows things to be shared in a way we never could before the advent of the World Wide Web. However, the Internet does not censor its information. There is no government agency monitoring websites to make sure the information they distribute is true. Should, then, the creators be forced to take responsibility for viewer’s disappointment, when those Internet users should have realized that YouTube.com never guaranteed the veracity of the films?