Welcome back to the Deep Dive. We have a profoundly
unusual stack of sources to go through today.
Yeah, highly unusual. And when I say stack, I
mean we are really just looking at a single,
highly specific digital artifact. Right, just
one page. Exactly. The mission today for us is
to take this seemingly mundane document, it's
a literal digital eviction notice from Wikipedia,
and use it to explore the hidden and frankly
often messy backstage area of how human knowledge
is categorized, guarded, and sometimes, well,
destroyed. It's a brilliant starting point, I
think, because we usually only ever consume the
finished product of an encyclopedia. Yeah, polished
version. Exactly. You see the clean formatted
pages. Yeah. But the source text we have today
is the raw machinery. It's this snapshot of the
exact moment a piece of information is being
weighed on the scales and, well, found wanting.
Found very wanting in this case. Let's just jump
right into the text because it reads like a cross
between a bureaucratic form and a quarantine
warning. It really does. The very top of the
page literally declares, and I quote, this page
is a candidate for speedy deletion. Speedy deletion.
Not just a review, not a committee hearing, a
fast -tracked execution. And the page they are
targeting is this bizarre Frankenstein's monster
of metadata. That combination of metadata is
what initially stands out so much. The text shows
this page was trying to group together three
completely disparate categories. Which are just
wild to see together. Right. First, pages with
complete short descriptions. Then, WikiProject
ice hockey articles. And finally, articles with
audio microformats. Okay, I want to pause right
there because for you listening, that list might
just sound like technical word salad. It does.
Let's break down what this page was actually
trying to hold. So pages with complete short
descriptions make sense. That's just a backend
tag for articles that have a brief summary, right?
Correct. It is just a basic organizational tool,
but then it throws in WikiProject ice hockey
articles, which is a very specific community
hub for editors working on hockey history. And
finally, articles with audio microformats. Which
sounds incredibly niche. It is purely technical
jargon for a specific type of HTML code used
to embed audio files. So it's the equivalent
of opening a filing cabinet and finding a folder
labeled, I don't know, things that are blue,
the 1994 tax code and MP3 files. Yes. It makes
absolutely no logical sense to group these things
together. Which is precisely why the digital
immune system kicked in. Ah, I like that. Digital
immune system. The document we're analyzing is
the automated response to that illogical grouping.
And it notes that the addition was made on the
16th of September, 2024. Right. And the text
gives us the official reason for the deletion
block. It says, reason, empty page or deleted
template with no corresponding talk page. Now,
I want to push back on this a little bit because
it sounds incredibly harsh to me. You have an
empty page. Maybe someone was just setting up
a workspace. Why is the immediate reaction to
just burn it down? Well, to understand that,
you have to look at the second half of that reason.
The part that says with no corresponding talk
page. Okay. The talk page. Yeah. The talk page
is the invisible engine of this entire platform.
It is the backstage room where editors argue,
justify, and document why a page should actually
exist. So if you create a weird empty template
and you don't leave a note on the talk page explaining
what you're trying to build. The administrators
just assume it's garbage. Wow. No benefit of
the doubt. They can't afford to give it. The
scale of information being uploaded every single
second means there's just no time to hunt down
the creator and ask for their intentions. If
the workspace is empty and the blueprint the
talk page is missing, it gets swept up in the
garbage collection. That brings us to the actual
creator of this digital anomaly. The text names
the culprit. It says, this page was created by
user .wikipedia123. A name that just screams
throwaway account. Yeah, or someone just testing
the system. Exactly. But here's the wrinkle in
the text that I find super fascinating. The very
next line says, the page has been edited by multiple
users. Right. So Wikipedia 1 -2 -3 builds this
empty, confusing room, and then other people
actually walk in and start moving the furniture
around. Well, that points to the automated nature
of modern digital archiving. Those quote -unquote
multiple users were likely bots. Ah, bots. Not
real people. Right. You have automated scripts
constantly crawling through the encyclopedia,
adding tags, fixing formatting, categorizing
new pages. So Wikipedia 123 drops this empty
template and the bots immediately swarm it. Adding
categories like category .articles with short
description. Exactly. It's like a digital assembly
line where the machines don't even realize the
product they're working on is completely broken.
They're just doing their specific job. You just
keep stamping it with approval tags until a human
administrator finally hits the big red stop button.
And that stop button comes with a very rigid
set of appeals. The text... outlines the instructions
for the creator, and it is honestly a masterclass
in bureaucratic logic. It really is. It says,
if you disagree with this deletion, please explain
why on the talk page. Again, pushing the burden
of proof entirely onto the user. But then it
adds this crucial caveat. It says, if this page
does not meet the criteria for speedy deletion,
or you intend to fix it, please remove this notice.
But do not remove this notice from pages that
you have created yourself. I love that rule so
much. It is such a stark reflection of human
nature. You can defend your page on the talk
page, but you cannot be the judge in your own
trial. No, you can't. You are strictly forbidden
from ripping the eviction notice off your own
front door. It addresses the inherent conflict
of interest. I mean, if users could simply delete
the speedy deletion notices on their own vanity
projects, the entire system of moderation would
just... collapse overnight. Yeah, total chaos.
The text is forcing a peer review. A third party
has to look at your argument and agree that the
notice should actually be removed. For you listening,
think about how different the rest of the internet
is from this model. It's completely backward
from social media. Right. On most social platforms,
you are the absolute dictator of your own profile.
You post what you want, you delete the comments
you don't like. But this text reveals a completely
different ecosystem. It is a shared reality governed
by intense, almost aggressive peer consensus.
Aggressive is definitely the right word. Look
at the final bolded command in the first section
of our source text. It says, administrators,
delete this page. Yeah, that's not a request.
It is an imperative order. There is no. Please
consider. The system has flagged the anomaly,
the community has been warned, and the executioners
are called to the block. Let's dig into the actual
laws being violated here because the document
explicitly cites the speedy deletion criteria.
And these criteria are really the foundational
pillars of how we define truth and relevance
online today. They absolutely are. The first
one listed is A2, no reliable sources. And the
text expands on A2 by stating the page has no
reliable sources and appears to be a hoax, self
-promotional, or otherwise falls outside of the
scope of Wikipedia. I want to play devil's advocate
again here. Outside the scope. is a massive catch
-all phrase. It is very broad. Who decides the
scope? If I want to document the history of my
local neighborhood book club and I create a page
for it, I might view that as vital human knowledge.
But under A2, it gets nuked. Doesn't that risk
turning the encyclopedia into a very elitist,
gated community? It is a totally valid concern.
But consider the alternative that the text is
actively trying to prevent. Yeah. The internet
is naturally a hoarding environment. Sure. Without
the A2 criteria acting as a ruthless bouncer,
the platform would instantly fill up with the
other things listed in that exact sentence, hoaxes
and self -promotion. Right. The text explicitly
calls out self -promotional. If you allow pages
without reliable third -party sources, every
business, every aspiring influencer, and every
scam artist would use the encyclopedia as a free
billboard. If they already try to do. Exactly.
The requirement for reliable sources means you
cannot be the sole author of your own reality.
Someone else, a journalist, an academic, an established
author, must have observed and documented your
existence first. That is a really profound way
to look at it. You cannot write yourself into
existence. You really can't. Which bleeds perfectly
into the second charge on this eviction notice,
A3, no significant coverage. The document defines
A3 as the page does not have enough significant
coverage and reliable sources to support an article.
This feels like the most subjective rule of all
to me. What is significant? I mean, if a local
newspaper writes a two -sentence blurb about
my book club, is that significant? Well, the
text actually provides a map to answer that exact
question. At the very bottom of the document,
under the See Also section, there are links to
specific policy pages. Oh, right, the reference
links. Yeah. It lists Wikipedia deletion policy.
Wikipedia, Triteria for Speedy Deletion, and
then two highly specific links, Wikipedia Notability
People and Wikipedia Notability Organizations.
Those last two are the heavy hitters, the concept
of notability. The very existence of those separate
notability guidelines proves that significant
coverage isn't just a vague feeling. It is the
meticulously debated legal framework. So it's
mathematical almost. To survive a speedy deletion,
you have to pass the notability test. A single
two sentence blurb in a local paper would fail
the test for an organization because it doesn't
represent deep, sustained coverage. So for you
listening, if you ever wonder why your favorite
niche indie band doesn't have a page, but some
one hit wonder from 1985 has a massive detailed
biography, it all comes down to A3. Yes, A3 is
the filter. The 1985 band had magazine articles,
television interviews and chart data. They had
significant coverage in an era of traditional
media. But the modern indie band might have a
million streams. But if no reliable third party
journalist has written a feature on them, they
get the A3 speedy deletion tag. It creates a
really fascinating friction between popularity
and notability. The text we are analyzing doesn't
care how popular user Wikipedia123's age was.
No. It doesn't care that multiple bots or users
interacted with it. It only cares about verifiable
external proof of significance. And if you don't
have that proof, the system offers you a very
stark interface. There's a line in the text that
just reads, click here to contest this speedy
deletion. That single button is the digital equivalent
of standing up in court. Yeah. If you click it,
you aren't just saying, I disagree. You are opening
a formal case. You will have to go to the talk
page, cite your reliable sources, prove your
significant coverage, and argue against the A2
and A3 charges in front of the volunteer administrators.
Which brings us back to the sheer scale of this
operation. The text repeatedly addresses these
administrators, and we picture this faceless,
monolithic authority. Sure, like a tech corporation.
But in reality, these are just volunteer editors
who have been granted extra buttons on their
keyboard. They are the ones reading these A2
and A3 reports every single minute of every single
day. The document we are studying is ultimately
a tool for those volunteers. It is a standardized
form designed to completely remove emotion from
the equation. It's very sterile. By categorizing
the deletion under codes like A2 and A3, it prevents
arguments from devolving into personal attacks.
It's not that the administrator hates WikiProject
ice hockey articles or audio microformats. It's
simply that the page failed the mathematical
equation of notability. Let's look at the totality
of what this single page represents. We started
with a mess of tags, short descriptions, audio
formats, and hockey projects created by a user
named Wikipedia123 on September 16th, 2024. A
very weird digital footprint. And through the
lens of this one speedy deletion notice, we've
basically uncovered the entire philosophical
immune system of human knowledge on the internet.
It highlights a necessary paradox, I think. To
build the most open, democratic repository of
information in human history, you have to simultaneously
build one of the most ruthless, heavily policed
bureaucracies to protect it from itself. The
digital graveyard is infinitely larger than the
digital library. Without a doubt. For every clean,
well -sourced article you read, there are thousands
of these speedy deletion notices quietly sweeping
away the empty templates, the hoaxes, and the
self -promotional vanity projects. And that is
a feature, not a bug. Yeah. If user Wikipedia123
could permanently leave empty, confusing pages
cluttered with random audio and hockey tags,
the platform would quickly become unusable. It
would just be trash. The strict enforcement of
A2 and A3 is what allows you to actually trust
the information you do find. It is a constant
battle against digital entropy. The natural state
of the Internet is chaos and noise. This document,
this cold bureaucratic eviction notice, is the
tool used to carve order out of that noise. I
would actually argue that examining this deletion
notice teaches us more about digital literacy
than reading 100 perfectly crafted articles.
Yeah. It shows us exactly where the boundaries
of accepted reality are drawn. I want to leave
you all with a final thought to mull over. We've
spent this time analyzing how a digital system
defines what is notable and what deserves to
be deleted. The criteria demand reliable sources
and significant external coverage. But imagine
applying that exact same A2 and A3 criteria to
your own life. If a volunteer administrator looked
at your daily routines, your private projects,
and your personal milestones, would you have
the reliable third -party sources to prove your
own existence to the machine? Or would the vast
majority of human experience, simply because
it lacks significant media coverage, be flagged
as an empty template slated for speedy deletion
in the historical record? That is a terrifyingly
good question. Keep diving deep and we'll catch
you next time.