One of the curious things about living through a time of whirlwind change
is that it is often difficult to understand exactly what is changing. In
recent years, new technology has given us the ability to transform basic
aspects of our lives: the way we converse and learn; the way we work, play
and shop; even the way we participate in political and social life. Dissidents
around the world use the Internet to evade censorship and get their message
out. Cyber-gossips send dispatches to thousands via e-mail. Musicians bypass
record companies and put their songs on the Web for fans to download directly.
Day traders roil the stock market, buying securities online with the click
of a mouse and selling minutes later when the price jumps.
There is a common thread underlying such developments. It is not just
a change in how we compute or communicate. Rather, it is a potentially
radical shift in who is in control--of information, experience and resources.
The Internet is allowing individuals to make decisions that once were made
by governments, corporations and the media. To an unprec-edented degree,
we can decide what news and entertainment we're exposed to and whom we
socialize with. We can earn a living in new ways; we can take more control
of how goods are distributed; and we can even exercise a new degree of
political power. The potential for personal growth and social progress
seems limitless. Yet what makes this shift in power--this control revolution--so
much more authentic than those revolutions described by techno-utopian
futurists is its volatility and lack of preordained outcome.
Contrary to the claims of cyber-romantics, democratic empowerment via
technology is not inevitable. Institutional forces are resisting, and will
continue to resist, giving up control to individuals. And some people may
wield their new power carelessly, denying themselves its benefits and imperiling
democratic values. Nowhere are the mixed blessings of the new individual
control more evident than in the relationship of the Internet to communities--not
just "virtual communities" of dispersed individuals interacting online
but real, geographically based communities.
Masters of Our Own Domains
The Internet's impact on community has everything to do with a digital
phenomenon known as personalization, which is simply the ability to shape
one's experience more precisely--whether it's social encounters, news,
work or learning. Traditionally, friendships and acquaintances have been
structured by physical proximity; we meet people because they are our neighbors,
classmates, co-workers or colleagues in some local organization. Much of
our information intake--newspapers and radio, for example--also reflects
locality, and we share these media experiences and others (like national
television) with those who live around us. The global reach and interactivity
of the Internet, however, is challenging this. Individuals can spend more
time communicating and sharing experiences with others regardless of where
they live. As Internet pioneer J.C.R. Licklider wrote back in the sixties,
"Life will be happier for the on-line individual because the people with
whom one interacts most strongly will be selected more by commonality of
interests and goals than by accidents of proximity."
Virtual communities are perfect for hobbyists and others with quirky
or specialized interests--whether they're fans of swing music, chemistry
professors or asthma sufferers. Indeed, these associations suggest the
possibility of whole new forms of social life and participation. Because
individuals are judged online by what they say, virtual communities would
appear to soften social barriers erected by age, race, gender and other
fixed characteristics. They can be particularly valuable for people who
might be reticent about face-to-face social interaction, like gay and lesbian
teenagers, political dissidents and the disabled. ("Long live the Internet,"
one autistic wrote in an online discussion, where "people can see the real
me, not just how I interact superficially with other people.")
The Internet also gives individuals a new ability to personalize their
news, entertainment and other information. And studies of Internet use
show that users are doing so. Rather than having editors and producers
choose what they read, hear and watch--as with newspapers or television--they
are using the interactivity of the Net to gather just the material they
find interesting. This may, among other things, be a winning strategy for
dealing with the torrent of information that is increasingly pushed at
us.
There is, in fact, plenty to like about personalization. But if we're
not careful, customizing our lives to the hilt could undermine the strength
and cohesion of local communities, many of which are already woefully weak.
For all the uncertainty about what "community" really means and what makes
one work, shared experience is an indisputably essential ingredient; without
it there can be no chance for mutual understanding, empathy and social
cohesion. And this is precisely what personalization threatens to delete.
A lack of common information would deprive individuals of a starting point
for democratic dialogue, or even fodder for the proverbial water-cooler
talk. For many decades, TV and radio have been fairly criticized for drawing
us away from direct interaction in our communities. Yet despite this shortcoming
(and many others), these mass media at least provide "a kind of social
glue, a common cultural reference point in our polyglot, increasingly multicultural
society," as media critic David Shaw puts it.
Online experiences rarely provide this glue. Yes, we can share good
times with others online who enjoy the same passions as we do. We can educate
ourselves and even organize for political change. But ultimately, online
associations tend to splinter into narrower and narrower factions. They
also don't have the sticking power of physical communities. One important
reason for this is the absence of consequences for offensive behavior online;
another is the ease of exit for those who are offended. In physical communities,
people are inextricably bound by the simple difficulty of picking up and
leaving. On the Net, it's always "where do you want to go today?" Are you
bored? Ticked off? Then move on! For many, this makes the virtual life
an attractive alternative to the hard and often tiresome work of local
community building.
Some might think that the weakness of online affiliations would prevent
them from posing any real challenge to physical communities. But the ability
to meander from one virtual gathering to the next, exploring and changing
habitats on a whim, is exactly the problem. The fluidity of these social
networks means that we may form weak bonds with others faraway at the expense
of strong ties with those who live near us.
Few people, of course, intend to use the Internet in ways that will
cause them to be distracted from local commitments. But technology always
has unintended consequences, and social science research is beginning to
show how this may be true for the Internet. Researchers who conducted one
of the first longitudinal studies of the Internet's social impact, the
HomeNet study, were surprised when their data suggested that Internet use
increases feelings of isolation, loneliness and depression. Contrary to
their starting hypotheses, they observed that regular users communicated
less with family members, experienced a decline in their contacts with
nearby social acquaintances and felt more stress. Although the authors
noted the limitations of their findings, the study's methodology has been
widely criticized. Until more conclusive results are available, however,
what's important is that we take seriously the hazards outlined in the
HomeNet study and attempt to prevent them from becoming worse or taking
root in the first place.
And how should we do that? Neo-Luddites would likely recommend rejecting
technology and returning to our bucolic roots. A more balanced and realistic
response, however, calls for a reconciling of personal desire and communal
obligations in a digital world. On the one hand, this means acknowledging
the sometimes exhilarating adventure of indulging oneself online. No one
can deny the value of being able to form relationships with far-flung others
based solely on common interests. At the same time, it means not having
illusions about the durability of those bonds or their ability to satisfy
fully our deepest needs.
We must recognize, for selfish and societal reasons alike, the importance
of focusing on the local. This is where we will find a true sense of belonging;
shared experience, even if not ideal, creates a sense of commitment. This
is where democracy and social justice must first be achieved; getting our
own house in order is always the first priority. The Net must therefore
be a vehicle not just for occasional escapism but for enhanced local engagement--online
and off.
Community Networks
Efforts to employ technology to strengthen local communities are not
new. They have been tried since the dawn of cable television in the seventies
and, for more than sixty years, via community radio programming. Those
technologies, though, are one-to-many. What makes the Net so promising
as a tool of localism is its capacity for interactivity, as well as its
nearly unlimited capacity.
Many early Internet enthusiasts have been strong supporters of "community
networking," an approach that encourages locally based online communication,
often at no charge to users. Community networking has its origins in services
such as the Free-Nets, which emerged in the eighties and early nineties
to offer online access, sometimes along with local news and information.
Most Free-Nets were noncommercial, with no advertising and no subscription
charges. Often, they were text-based bulletin board systems run voluntarily
by computer enthusiasts. And often they were not easy for novices to use.
A good share of these early services, in addition, were not so much
about local affairs as they were a way for residents to get online for
free. As a result, Free-Nets and other community networks suffered as America
Online and other inexpensive (and more alluring) gateways to the Net became
available. By the late nineties, many had gone out of business, as did
the National Public Telecommunications Network, an umbrella group of Free-Nets
that was founded in 1986. Still, more than a hundred Internet-based community
networks in the United States have continued to thrive, such as Charlotte's
Web in Charlotte, North Carolina; Liberty Net in Philadelphia; the Seattle
Community Network; and Blacksburg Electronic Village in Blacksburg, Virginia.
Arising from a project that began in 1984, Blacksburg Electronic Village
appears to be one of the more successful of these endeavors. It counts
a majority of Blacksburg's 36,000 residents as participants. Senior citizens
chat with their neighbors online. Parents keep abreast of what their kids
are doing in school and exchange e-mail with teachers. Citizens use Web-based
surveys to communicate with their municipal government about spending priorities.
A key feature of successful community networks, in fact, is the opportunity
they provide citizens to talk--with civic leaders and one another. Users
don't just want information fed to them; they want to generate conversation
themselves.
In a community network in Amsterdam, for example, citizens talk about
keeping the city's largest park in shape, they argue about Amsterdam's
proposed transformation from city to province and they bombard politicians
with questions about Holland's abstruse tax laws. Similar results were
apparent even in a short-term case study involving a group of London neighbors.
Microsoft gave them computers, Internet access and a way to communicate
with one another online. Participants used the technology to exchange information
about local services. Kids asked questions about homework. There was a
debate about a proposed change in local parking rules, and some members
even organized to do something about disruptive vibrations from a nearby
railroad. The dialogue, moreover, appeared to translate into stronger ties
among neighbors. "I used to know maybe five or six people in the street;
now I know at least forty of them quite well, and some very closely," one
participant said.
Even some early online services that didn't start as community networks
appear to have succeeded precisely because members were located mostly
in one geographic area. The Well, a pioneering online community based in
San Francisco (and recently bought by Salon, the Internet-magazine-turned-portal),
was never intended to be about the Bay Area or just for people from there,
yet its founders knew from the start that a sense of local culture would
be an important component of the online community. Most interestingly,
perhaps, they recognized the value that regular face-to-face contact would
have for members. Monthly Well parties were therefore instituted in the
San Francisco area and became an important element of the online community's
identity. Similarly, Echo, a prominent New York-based online community,
offers regular events such as readings, a film series, bar gatherings and
softball games. As Echo's mission statement says, "We know that the best
online communities are never strictly virtual." Contrary to the utopian
notion that the Internet will lift us above the confines of geography,
then, the history of online communities suggests that people want to convene
with their geographic neighbors, both online and in person.
Local Gateways
Given this fact and the success of some community networks, it might
seem that little needs to be done to achieve balance between our desire
to surf globally and our need to network locally. Yet as the Internet presents
the possibility of a more alluring universe of distractions and greater
social isolation, emphasis on localism must become stronger and more explicit.
We need to build high-quality, Web-based local networks that are ubiquitous,
accessible and interesting enough so that all Internet users will want
to use them, at least some of the time. This would insure a degree of involvement
with community issues and engagement with actual neighbors. These networks
should not be final destinations, though. Instead, reflecting a local/global
balance, they should be thought of as local gateways to the global Net--and
to offline interaction, as well.
Like entry ramps, these gateways should allow users to go anywhere.
Yet, learning from the successes and failures of predecessors, they must
provide stimulating content about local issues and an opportunity for users
to talk with one another. There should be resources and discussion about
issues that people really care about: recreation and entertainment, sports
teams, politics, schools, shopping and consumer assistance, and crime and
safety. This alone should entice people to visit. And as local gateways
facilitate dialogue among community members, eventually empathy, interdependence
and cooperative action will follow.
For users without Internet access, the local gateway could be the service
they call to get online--for free. (The goals of universal access and localism
could therefore be intertwined.) Following the lead of existing community
networks, Internet terminals could be put in schools and libraries, churches,
public housing projects and recreation centers. For those who already have
online access, the local gateway could be used as a portal site on the
Web.
The architecture of the local gateway is crucial. Its blueprint should
be influenced not just by a local/global balance but by other democratic
values. For example, citizens should be able to speak freely and be heard
(even if they can't pay for prominent positioning on the site), privacy
should be protected and public-interest resources should be readily available
and easy to use. This online "commons" must be a worthy complement to the
physical public commons--not a substitute, but an extension. It should
thus have all the quirks and flavor of the geographic community for which
it is a digital annex, and it should be accountable to the members of that
community.
In terms of content and design, there are two models for the kind of
local gateway I am proposing. One is existing community networks, which
are generally superb examples because they emphasize localism and citizen
dialogue. Sometimes, though, community networks are an end in themselves,
instead of an entrance to the whole Net. To draw a larger audience, the
gateway format is better, because it becomes a routine starting place for
users, while not confining them. The opposition by some community networks
to partnering with business may also be counterproductive. Blacksburg Electronic
Village, for one, claims to have benefited greatly from the fact that it
began as a partnership among government (the town of Blacksburg), academia
(Virginia Tech, which provided most of the funding) and industry (Bell
Atlantic, the local phone company, which recently pulled out after four
and a half years). More than two-thirds of local businesses are on the
Blacksburg network, which makes it convenient for users. It also gives
a boost to local vendors who might otherwise lose substantial business
to huge Internet companies based outside the community--a trend that technology
critic Richard Sclove aptly calls the "cybernetic Wal-Mart effect."
At the same time, local gateways should not be overly commercialized.
In particular, citizens should shun attempts by corporations to fabricate
communities just so they can use members as a target audience for sales
and advertising. It's a practice that has been tried on the Web, though
fortunately with little success so far. Businesses would be better off
working in cooperation with community groups and local governments. And
citizens should welcome their participation, so long as they have a local
presence and maintain a civic-minded spirit. In fact, the cybernetic Wal-Mart
effect could be offset, to a degree, by the ability of community members
to patronize online versions of their favorite neighborhood stores, thus
supporting their community's tax base, employment and conviviality.
An unlikely boost for local gateways might also come from city-oriented
commercial Web services such as those provided by CitySearch, Yahoo, Microsoft's
Sidewalk and AOL's Digital Cities. Some American cities have as many as
a half-dozen of these sites competing for the public's attention. With
their collection of local news, weather and services such as free e-mail,
these sites provide a second model for local gateways. Community networking
activists have traditionally seen them as the enemy because of their commercialism
and the fact that they attract individuals away from nonprofit sites. Yet
under the right circumstances, these sites could help anchor individuals
in their communities. They could become partners in the formation of local
gateways. (Austin Free-Net, for example, has worked closely with the for-profit
Austin CitySearch.)
For this to happen, citizens need to leverage the power that interactive
technology gives them. We need to organize and tell these city-based portals
that to win our attention they must give something back to our communities.
They must, for example, donate substantial online resources--such as free
Web site hosting and design, chat forums, dial-up access and hardware--to
tenant groups, parent-teacher associations, charitable entities, activist
groups and other community-based organizations. They must offer Internet
authoring tools that anyone can use to create a dialogue forum. And they
must find people to lead moderated discussions and otherwise work to strengthen
communal conversation. (If city-based portals are unresponsive to citizen
action, activists should investigate the possibility of government regulation
to achieve at least some of these aims.)
Finally, local gateways should not be seen as a panacea for community
activism. They must instead be part of a larger strategy of face-to-face
local engagement--which may nonetheless be more effective and more enjoyable
thanks to local online interaction, as for example in the London experiment.
Steam and rail gave us the opportunity to flee far from our places of
birth; telegraph and telephone allowed us to conduct our business and social
lives from a distance; television insulated us further even as it sometimes
gave us common experiences. The goal of the Internet revolution, if it
can be said to have one, should not be to replicate the world we know,
but to improve it. As we explore the farthest reaches of our new World
Wide Web, we must also use technology to fortify the local webs in which
we dwell.
See below
for background and related information.
Background and Related Information
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