I think I’ve outgrown the internet.
I realize that may sound shocking coming from someone who has spent the last thirteen-odd years of her life working on the web, with the web, and for the web, so maybe an explanation is in order.
I’m not tired of the technologies that make the web a more social place. I’ve made and nurtured many friendships and relationships that wouldn’t be possible without being connected. I even met my husband online. I can’t quite imagine what my life might’ve ended up like had I not spent an entire summer seeking refuge from Atlanta’s oppressive heat in Georgia State University’s air-conditioned computer center.
It’s the listmaking, the angling for position, the seemingly endless quest to be recognized as the definitive voice that worries me. It’s the recent discussions of social capital on the web — or “whuffie” that make me feel tired. In case you don’t know what whuffie is, Tara Hunt of HorsePigCow defines it this way:
The sum of the reputation, influence, bridging capital and bonding capital, access to ideas and talent, access to resources, potential access to further resources, saved up favors, accomplishments (resumes, awards, articles, etc.) and the Whuffie of those who you have relationships with.
In short, whuffie is mostly based on who you know, a bit on what you know, and how these connections elevate your standing and increase your personal, social (and in some cases, fiancial) capital.
The web is turning into one large gated community where, if you don’t have the right credentials (cred), you’ll always find yourself on the outside. This way of thinking is inherently exclusionary, and in my mind, flies in the face of the open spirit that used to exist in the early days of the web.
I don’t fault people for wanting to make a good living by parlaying their social connections into lucrative and/or influential appointments. Where this starts to break down for me is when I encounter the second, third, or tenth list of the “most influential” people/men/women/blacks/asians/one-legged jockeys on the web, and how people react when they see that their names have been left off such lists.
The reactions remind me of the jockeying for position that insecure high school students exhibit when they try desperately to craft a more socially acceptable image for thesmselves. It reminds me of fraternity/sorority life on college campuses where those who allowed to pledge are derided by those who wanted to pledge but were turned away at the door. And what’s worse is that it starts to resemble those tiresome and seemingly never-ending blog posts about “monetizing” the web and how you can blog your way to financial independence just by manipulating search engine rankings.
I don’t know if this is a factor of my rapidly advancing age and my increasing inability to suffer what I consider to be foolish behavior gladly, but this isn’t the social community I want to be a part of. I want to be part of a community where people are willing to share their expertise so that we all get better. I want to be part of a community that mimics that hoary old cliche about rising tides that lift all boats. I think this is why, now that I’m working in a library, I feel I’m finally surrounded by people who understand the benefit of the collective we, and how our societies — physical and virtual — are made stronger by nurturing a commonwealth of ideas where those who have access feel a sense of responsibility to those who don’t.
I want a more level playing field, not because I want more attention for myself (anyone who knows me can tell you that absolutely is not the case), but because I believe that as long as we’re so busy focusing on how to come out on top of our limited circles, we’re going to lose sight of our responsibility to and interconnectedness with each other.
