Thursday, February 17, 2005

The electronic commons

The electronic commons offered so much promise. Think of it - imagine the possibilities if Alexander the Great could have collaborated with Sun Tzu on the military arts without leaving their homes. Or think of the possibilities if Siddartha Gautama could have shared his philosophies with King Josiah of Judah.

There is no reason it shouldn't be happening today. Certainly there have to be people of great intellect, wisdom, and insight who have Internet access. But the kind of eclectic dialogue you would imagine to arrive with such a freeing collaborative technology never really happened.

I first got tentatively online in November, 1994. And I got on intensively in the summer of 1995. One of my routes online was the National Capital FreeNet. Yes, the email address in my profile is ten years old, and there aren't many who can boast of keeping the same addy that long. :-)

The NCF gave a significant primacy to Usenet in its interface, so discussion forums were something I was participating in before I got my first email at that address. What was so liberating about this new experience was that there were discussion forums for just about everything. There were even dedicated newsgroups for the television shows I watched. I just couldn't believe that any conversation I wanted to have on any topic was always just a few keystrokes away.

But I quickly learned, to my chagrin, that it was a savage and hostile environment. People did not just disagree with your opinions - they savaged you, your mother, and your little dog, too. More disappointing yet was my own conduct. For example, I was at the time very much a partisan of Windows 95. I had briefly used OS/2 at home, and thought that Workplace Shell (am I remembering that right?) was interesting, but not for me. Anyway, I got into a number of heated and pointless discussion threads and contributed worthless and grumpy drivel. Even though I was far from being a Usenet troll, I think it was years before I realized that my online manners were nothing I'd ever tolerate of myself in the real world. So why was I treating strangers like this in newsgroups?

As more and more of humanity's sharing moves onto the Internet, the worse it gets. I still find it really hard to resist being the grumpy contrarian at times, something I'd never do to anyone in person. And I think I know why.

On the Internet, we're reduced to words. There's no body language, and no instinct to either placate or ingratiate. In the typical poster's thoughts, the other people talking aren't even people. They're funny icons, strange nicknames, and anyway, it is all safe, right? We're insulting GrUfLorg993 not Joanne Smith, mother, paralegal, and dog owner.

But that safe facade, that veneer, is not what it seems to be. I've seen antagonists get so angry that they figure out who one another is (via headers and IP addresses) and start trying to ruin the other - and get them booted off the net, or even worse, fired. Once the Internet savage is released, some people have to go for the kill.

Now that people read a lot of their news online, I would imagine journalists experience much the same vitriol (at least ones who post their email addresses, and many do.) And many of the online pundits (I'm talking the paid ones, not even the bloggers) now pack a lot of the same rhetorical heat. My jaw drops when I read things that Ted Rall or Ann Coulter write. What surprises me most is how alike they are to the Usenet flames I first saw a decade ago. And this is now our public discourse!

Now that the world has gone online, are we doomed to become a culture where fewer personal interactions lead to less civility? Geez, I sure hope not!

1 comment:

Irina Tsukerman said...

Interestingly, I almost gave in to the temptation of Internet vitriol when I was heavily involved in one very one-sided discussion group. However, now I actually have better control of myself over the Internet than in real life! All I have to do is remind myself that these people are very far away and don't even know who I am, and somehow the whole thing becomes a little less real.