Media Week

The publication of a list detailing the entire membership of the BNP online last night brings into sharp focus the questions that dog the democratisation of the publishing world that the internet has brought.

Those who believe the millions of personal blogs out there amount to, at best, nothing more than a vacuous collection of witless musings and, at worst, a dangerous platform for the spread of misinformation, both deliberately and simply through ignorance, have been offered another opportunity to rail at the irresponsible power to publish we all now possess.

Believers in the personal platform revolution, meanwhile, will argue the publication of the details of members of the far right party is the perfect example of citizens working for the public interest without the constraints or concerns of a major publishing house.

Whichever argument you subscribe to, it's hard in this case to feel sympathy for those whose details have been leaked, though the publication of personal information including those of children is clearly a breach of data protection. Setting aside, if it is possible, the anti-Semitic, racist premise from which the party emerged, denied by its upper echelons, for whatever reason the person who posted the list did so, and a disgruntled former member appears to be the current consensus, the BNP has simply become a victim of a medium it's been using to aid its growth for a number of years.

Having worked for, and monitored, a large online community, it's clear the far right not only uses the internet to detail its manifestos and create online ‘friendly' communities where ideas can be exchanged, it actively targets mainstream forums to spread the word.

It was hard to tell how organised this practice was, but posting patterns and multiple account creation suggested a certain amount of collaboration. The tactic employed by Barack Obama to great success is nothing new to those pedalling more extreme views, on all sides of the political debate.

The fact that, on this occasion, the internet has been used to strike back in such a damaging way (would you join or renew knowing your details may end up as public knowledge?) is a perfect example of the internet delivering on all sides.

The ability to share information about ourselves - to paraphrase the Facebook dictum (a company well aware of the BNP-effect) - and others is a wonderful thing. If the information shared happens to leave a bitter taste in the mouth, well, that's something, for now, we just have to deal with.

With power comes responsibility. Whether individuals publishing online will gradually adopt a more responsible approach remains to be seen. The history of publishing suggests public opinion will gradually dictate that it does. The nature of radicalism, and the internet, may see to it that situations such as these become a regular occurrence.

Does commercial media have a role to play in all this? Ignoring the online personal publishing revolution is a mistake. The sheer number of people viewing and sharing content, whether through blogs, personal websites, or social networks, makes the proposition far too attractive, and important, to dismiss. And plugging into the right community, at the right time, amounts to striking marketing gold. Enter the social media space without a clear strategy for how you intend to protect your brand, however, and it could be fatal.

Slightly off subject, but earlier today I got on the Victoria Line at Green Park alongside a broken looking Robert Peston.

Sitting at the very end of a lonely end carriage, he cut a rather subdued figure. No sharp suit. In fact, casual shoes, no tie, not even a jacket.

Just a man looking like the world, for once, wasn't interested in what he had to say.

On the first day of the year when no-one gives a banker's bonus what the man who has been the beating heart of UK journalism had to say, Peston clearly didn't know quite what to do with himself.

Don't worry Robert. This Obama character, fly-by-night. Tomorrow's chip wrappers. You'll see. Come next week your army of fans, of which I count myself one, will be devouring your interesting broadcasting style as the continuing spiral of world financial catastrophe is explained in terms we can all digest.

I was going to come over and say so, but I was getting off at Oxford Cricus.

The very idea that a company can generate income by selling something that's little more than a few hundred coloured pixels is pretty mind-boggling.

But with Facebook announcing this week that it is changing the pricing model in its gift shop, from a flat $1 per gift to variable pricing based around credits, revenue from virtual gifts is clearly sufficient enough to make having a very real retail strategy worthwhile.

Varying web reports estimate current revenue at around £35m from Facebook gifts, with a hoped for doubling of that income by introducing the changes. Some have even suggested a nine-figure income in 2009 could be possible.

That's a lot, by any standards, but for selling pints you can't drink, flowers you can't smell and donkeys you can't, well, do whatever it is you can do with real donkeys, it's staggering.

Is it any different to sending someone a real gift? Given there are somewhere in the region of 35 million of them adorning Facebook homepages, plenty of people clearly don't think so. But try telling the wife that her anniversary gift is virtual and I suspect your subsequent status update would not make for pleasant reading.