Working Draft
Jay Bregman & Leon Koay | 04/02/00
Note: Please send comments, questions, or suggestions on this draft to Jay Bregman (jbregman@cyber.law.harvard.edu).
Introduction: Online Deliberation and Discourse
The Role of the Moderator in Online Discourse
Filtering: An Option for Administrators and Individuals
Excessive Postings by a single user
Role of Participants in online discourse
Gender Differences in Online Communication
From Discourse to Deliberation
In this section we focus on the elements that appear to be common characteristics of online communities, and which in our observation play an animating part, in the deliberative processes of such communities. The intention that underlies this focus is to extract an understanding, or configure a fair representation, of the contributing forces that shape deliberation online, with the hope of fairly and adequately incorporating considerations of the same into deliberative discourse software. And while some of the elements considered below may appear to contribute more strongly than others, we believe that each one plays a role in the dynamic.
Sources Of Law/Power[1]
A fundamental source of law/power on the Internet currently is code[2]. Code currently dictates and determines the rules (read law), and accordingly confers the power[3], that predominantly governs how online communities conduct themselves. Accordingly, the controllers of the code that shape the online space are currently the first and predominant sources of law and power for an online community.
Such is the position as a default. However, such power can be illusory over the long term if the controllers of code do not echo and reflect the interests of the online community. Because membership and participation in online communities is voluntary, a coder’s power over the online space hinges, in the long term, on the online community’s continued acceptance of such power. Continued acceptance is usually predicated on evidence that the environment of the online space itself is reflective of the interests and needs of the online community as a whole, or that there exist mechanisms within the online space itself to adequately address such interests and needs. A lack of acceptance on the community’s part is usually evidenced by a shrinking of its ranks – power over an empty online space can be hollow indeed.
In typical situations, this dynamic usually translates into a shift of certain governing or conflict management functions from the coder to the community itself, coupled with pre-determined rules or terms of service that are usually open to review or comment.
In this regard, it is instructive to note that, in comparison to real-life social transaction, ordinary black-letter law in its legislative and adjudicative form has significantly reduced application and purview. The “shadow of the law” does not overhang interaction and engagement in the way it does in the real world. There is, however, iterative reference to fundamental constitutional principles or derivations such as the freedom of speech[4], the aversion to government intervention, and the right to privacy[5].
When a coder has shifted away from, or delegated, the governance and conflict management functions that ordinarily connote law and power, other sources of law and power begin to emerge[6]. In a typical scenario, an online community would begin to look to the controller/moderator/sysop (who administers and facilitates discourse on the particular forum) as the source of rules for their space, and frequently vest sanction power (technological or otherwise) with the controller/moderator/sysop as a corollary to the rulemaking function[7]. In such scenarios there are 2 possible ways for the rules to evolve–the community may appoint or elect the controller/moderator/sysop who then is charged with fashioning rules for the particular community, or the community agrees on guidelines[8], which the controller/moderator/sysop then uses as her basis for enforcement, or for creating a larger rule framework[9]. In a more developed environment, rule-making, enforcement and conflict resolution devolve to a certain extent onto the community as a whole, with voting and complaint mechanisms being used to address issues arising[10]. An example of how moderators/controllers work can be seen in the experiences of the WELL[11], or in the functions of the “wizards” that operate within the MUD/MOO environments[12]. In the case of wizards, they are vested with technological and social power, in the sense that the community first assents to the conferment of wizard status on a member, which member then is vested with access to the technological tools that aid in enforcement within these environments[13]. In all these cases it is important to note that the relationship of these other sources of law and power is not very far removed from influence over, or access to, the code that continues to define the architecture of the discussion space.
Online public dialogue is often supplemented by one-to-one e-mail, telephone conversation, or face-to-face contact[14]. For example, during a threaded messaging conference or electronic forum dialogue, like-minded groups of members might communicate with one another either by separate e-mail,[15] real-time chat, or by phone in order to discuss issues or engage in further discourse. Alternately, members of online communities may make the effort to establish face-to-face meetings with selected members, or the group as a whole[16]. It appears that this trend is reflective of the tendency for community ties to connect both online and offline, where the relationship (and not the communication medium) is key[17]. In cases of groups with pre-existing real-life relationships, e-mail and online communications have provided a conduit for enhanced, convenient discourse. Back-channel communication is also often the next step for members of online communities who desire to enhance relationships created online[18].
Status counts for little online - members build up credibility and reputation on the strength of their contributions to the online community, evaluated in turn by the other members of said community. There is a prevalence of heightened reciprocal supportiveness[19], or a “gift culture,[20]” whereby one derives respect and acknowledgement from others in the community on the basis of one’s concrete contributions of time, creativity and skill expressed in that community. Cyberspace is known as the great equalizer – and this is especially true with regard to earning one’s reputation[21] and status. Unlike the real world, where status or reputation is often shaped by a complex of social, economic, political, and hereditary considerations, in the online world reputation and status can often be gained only through the accumulated appreciation of others[22]. This appreciation is not based on credentials but rather on the merit of one’s ideas and contributions; a fourteen-year old might be more respected with regard to technical advice than a forty-year old professional. In the online world people are said to be judged solely on the content of their ideas and not by their previous record (however good or bad it might be).
Discourse in online communities is marked by the delayed (asynchronous) nature of the communication. While environments such as the MUD’s, MOO’s and Internet Relay Chat (IRC), allow for concurrent and simultaneous exchange, the experience still lacks the human qualities even of a telephone conversation (although there is arguably greater latitude for graphic representation online). Likewise, e-mail, message and bulletin boards, and discussion forums, decidedly adopt delayed communication (albeit potentially instantaneous). The close-to-synchronous features of online communication facilitate speedier relationship-building and more clarity and focus in dialogue, inasmuch as they simulate to a certain extent the framework of a physical, real-life conversation. Conversely but equally important, the asynchronous aspects of online communication serve to alleviate the negative effects of interpersonal physical dialogue, in the sense that the built-in delays assist in minimizing, or at least reducing to a manageable level, the element of immediacy or unpredictability inherent in interpersonal communication[23]. The ability to join a discourse in one’s own time and after having the opportunity of individual reflection, opens the avenue to value-enhancing, better-thought-out contributions from online participants[24], as opposed to the instant, off-the-top-of-the-head responses that typically pervade physical social discourse.
Online communication by its very nature can be sterile and unexpressive. Written exchanges per se can be devoid of the subtlety and nuance of face-to-face, or even voice-to-voice, communication, and there can be a tendency for online communication to be clinical, and unreflective of the actual human tones that underlie any expression (even more so than, say, a hand-written letter). In the face of the restrictive sensory options that are available online, online communities have developed the use of emotional icons, or “emoticons”, which are produced by a combination of various punctuation marks, grammatical signs, and alphabets from the keyboard, which resemble human facial expressions. These emoticons (also known as “smileys”), which are deciphered by viewing them with the head tilted to the left, allow for the conveyance of emotion, and facilitate nuance and moderation of dialogue[25], including the use of happy, mischievous, angry and naughty expressions[26]. The use of emoticons is intended to add contour and color to online dialogue, and assists in moderating the impact, and enhancing the value, of electronic conversation[27].
Acronyms, on the other hand, are used for purposes of incorporating economy and speed into online conversation – they are abbreviations of well-known, oft-used phrases (and many are indeed commonly-used real-life acronyms), the meanings of which are clear and unambiguous. Examples transplanted from real-life include ASAP (“as soon as possible”) and FYI (“for your information”). Others have evolved online, such as BTW (“by the way”) and FWIW (“for what it’s worth”). The utility of acronyms varies, depending on the context of the online dialogue, and their use can be viewed as disruptive (particularly for new users) or economic[28].
Depending on the nature and architecture of their space, online communities also use graphical representations and interfaces to enhance the non-verbal dimension of their communications. These can take the form of animated representations[29] (or “avatars”) and text balloons that imbue the dialogue with more “visual character”, thereby facilitating enriched and deepened user perception of the online conversation[30]. One environment that implements such graphic interfaces is The Palace, a social/chat community on the Web that combines typed-text communication with graphics and sound[31]. Other examples are AlphaWorld[32], and WorldsAway[33].
One of the main problems of online community discourse has been the design and architecture of the online space that supports the same. Over time, it appears that online communities have gradually adopted three generic forms as templates for their discourse. These are (1) threaded discussions; (2) message or bulletin boards; or (3) text-based virtual environments, or a combination of one or more of the forms. An example of (1) would be the <www.slashdot.org> forum. An example of (2) would be the electronic bulletin boards normally found in academic or working environments. MUDs and MOOs are predominant examples of the environment described in (3).
The most successful or stable communities appear to be those possess a strong base of shared values or needs[34]. Communities with a shared sense of purpose, and which reflect to a large extent the interests and values of its members, are most able to cooperate[35] and self-govern[36]. In some cases, this can be attributed to the pre-existing bond or connection that a core group of participants bring to a forum, i.e. the online community acts as an extension, as well as a supplement of, their real-world community. In other cases, strong, commonly-shared values among the participants (even total strangers), and a commitment to the higher goals of the online space, increased the potential for speedier online bonding and cooperation. Where there is a marked similarity or commonality in interests[37], purpose or aims, the online community is better able to forge a joint or shared identity[38], and can rely on such shared identity as the “cement” to hold its participants together in situations of difficulty or disagreement. Online communities that admit too diverse a group, with a lack of common, coherent guidelines, suffer and fragment more easily and quickly.
Examples are Cancelmoose[39] on Usenet, or the “kill” actions of wizards on LambdaMoo, or administrators’ blocking of account access for errant users[40]. These function as censoring tools vis-à-vis expression and speech, tools that are ordinarily unavailable in the real world without the support of at least an interim judicial order. Restraints have been fashioned to control unwieldy use of such technology, for example in the development of behavioral guidelines (including actions will merit censorship or expulsion), or the administrators’ custom of sending warnings as a precursor to sterner action, or by specifying a minimum threshold of complaints in relation to a particular act before actually treating it as an infraction. Often, administrators reproduce the infracting piece of communication, coupled with a collection of all complaints against the same[41], to substantiate their censorship decision[42] – this appears to be aimed at transparency of action. In all, these methods reflect the desire to incorporate and implement buffers that protect against wanton and unchecked abuse of technological power as a disciplining/censorship tool within online communities.
In real-world deliberation, disruption is both readily apparent and easy to deal with. Deliberative institutions often use “Robert’s Rules of Order” or the like to procedurally determine who can speak when. Golding’s shipwrecked children passed around a conch shell during discussion, the understanding being that one could only speak while holding the conch. These control mechanisms, generally effective in face to face discussion, are largely inapplicable to disruptive participants in online discussions. Discussion lists allow users to post as many messages as they like, and often without a means of identifying the poster. An email address can be forged; an alias is just an alias. Stripped of their institutional roles[43], anonymity in online discourse has the potential to liberate speech—to allow individuals to speak without fear of reprisal by their employer or neighbor. However, the more anonymity conferred on discourse participants, the more they are invisible, the greater the potential for misconduct.
In face-to-face discussions, participants have to face the consequences of their comments—the temptation to speak incessantly or hostilely toward other participants is generally overridden by the desire to maintain good community standing. On the other hand, cyberspace is a very loose community, and as such it is difficult for the same form of community disapproval to be as effective as it is in the real world. Where anonymity of participants is guaranteed, the need for unique online control of discussions increases dramatically. Simply put: we say things in cyberspace we would never think of saying in the real world, even over the phone. Flaming, or “to lose one’s self-control and write a message that uses derogatory, obscene or inappropriate language,” is unique to online communication. John Seabrook wrote of his first flame: “No one had ever said something like this to me before, and no one could have said this to me before: in any other medium these worlds would be, literally, unspeakable.”[44] What is it about the medium of cyberspace that tempts people to write “unspeakable” emails? The Internet as it exists today is an open system, allowing a great deal of anonymity for its users. This invisibility makes it easier for us to say things we would normally not say in face-to-face conversation.
The connection between anonymity and disruptive behavior has roots in Plato’s Republic. Glaucon tells a story of Gyges, who found a ring which, when turned, makes him invisible: “While he was sitting with the others, it chanced that he moved the collet of the ring around toward himself into the inside of his hand ; having done this, he disappeared from the sight of those who were sitting beside him, and they discussed of him as of someone who had left.”[45] Realizing that his actions would have no consequences because he possessed complete anonymity, Gyges sleeps with the King’s wife, and then “laid a hand on the king, murdered him and took hold of the leadership.”[46]
Online discourse, vis-à-vis face-to-face discourse, produces a great deal more of waste and disruption. Though traditional deliberative theorists shun the idea of a moderator (See Section XXX), real-life participants are not anonymous, and therefore real-life discussions do not have to deal with the disruption and general cacophony of online discourse. This difference explains the prevalence, in the online world, of a “sysop,” list administrator or moderator who is tasked with overseeing the discussion. This person, by virtue of their position, has more power than other participants. However, most online discussion groups are battling to preserve a delicate balance between signal and noise. The need for moderators is greater because the medium encourages, to some extent, worthless or derogatory commentary. As Amy Bruckman observed in “’Democracy’ in Cyberspace: Lessons from a Failed Political Experiment,” “It is really easy to forget that there is a human being who means well on the other side of that computer terminal and to assume, instead, that it is the devil incarnate.”[47] The need for control over content grows as participants send flurries of content-less messages.
Traditional discourse theory attempts to reserve judgment on the content of messages, however the nature of cyberspace, especially the volume of messages and the potential for flames or other harassing messages, makes weeding out irrelevant or otherwise worthless posts almost always necessary. As such, the ideal discourse software would have the ability for list administrators/moderators to cancel messages, censure users, and issue the “kill” command. Online moderators might also be used to rate posts, where the ratings enable users to filter out a certain level of content. Such a system is currently used on Slashdot (www.slashdot.org) which takes its moderators (who rate posts as good or bad) from a randomly drawn pool of users who meet certain criteria (e.g. they must be regular users).[48] Among the pool of Slashdot users who fit the predetermined criteria, the task of moderating is randomly assigned and moderators only serve for a short time. This prevents moderators from abusing their power while producing a system where Slashdot users can decide what level of comments they want to read. The result is a system which reduces clutter, allows users to see only high-quality posts if they wish, and does not permit moderators to act as tyrants.
All online discussions should have at least someone “watching” the discussion. This person could be a source of technical help as well as guidance for new users. However, it may not be advisable for the moderator to become directly involved in the discussion. There are situations in which moderators should take immediate action—in such situations where participants are harassing other participants.[49] Yet recent experiments such as Web Lab have attempted to solve the problem of moderator control of discourse by carefully crafting the setting in which the discourse is to occur. Moderators, in any form, can adversely affect the discussion if the moderator is actively involved in the discussion: moderators represent the introduction of a power dynamic into the discourse, which is undesirable in the ideal speech situation. RealityCheck.com, for example, was an experiment in online discourse which dealt with a politically charged issue: the Clinton Impeachment controversy. RealityCheck did not need active moderators because they engineered the setting to control the cacophony characteristic of most online discussions.
Specifically, they instituted a series of discourse rules: there was limited entry (a fixed number of people were able to join the group, after which it was closed off) as well as a fixed exit, or a predetermined timeline for discussion (with the ability to ask for extensions if necessary); and they asked for a commitment from members to participate for one-month. Everyone was placed in the discussion on the same day, but one could imagine this procedure modified such that the discussion would be “open” for members to join for a specific period after which they could observe but not comment (or comment only with special permission). The RealityCheck approach avoids the problems of most discussion lists—where the turnover rate of members is very high and people will not hesitate to post a few messages and never return. In addition, their approach attempts to create a sense of community among the discourse participants, similar to that which might be found in real-world discussion. An evaluation by WebLab of the RealityCheck system found that “sixty percent of the survey respondents said their respect for other members increased over time, four times the proportion that said respect decreased.”[50]
Filtering:
An Option for Administrators and Individuals
On the issue of dealing with disruptive list participants—ideal discourse software would have the ability to filter-out other individuals with “one-click” ease. Just right click on the name of the person and their comments do not appear in your list. If possible, once person x filters out person y, person x should not be able to see anything written by person x, even if it is contained in forwards or reply-to’s from users not filtering person x.
An option for administrative filtering should be implemented as well. This allows list administrators to filter out person x such that no one sees person x’s comments. But this is not the same as issuing the “kill” command which would disallow person x from logging in at all. We envision this to be helpful on discussion lists where there is such disruption that in order for the discussion to survive the list administrator must maintain both a censored and an uncensored list.
It is imperative that an uncensored list be available, even after participants have blocked out certain users (this allows for reconsideration of their comments by overly-eccentric participants). In short, the software should have the goal of fostering the richest marketplace of ideas; this means giving individual users the ability to censor out others (a luxury we enjoy in the real world by putting a physical barrier between oneself and the speaker or simply covering our ears). Such a system should avoid criticism of the list on the grounds that the administrator is offering content control over list contributions. Free speech advocates cannot complain they are being censored any more than they would be in real life; indeed, such software allows for more free speech and as a result a fuller exchange of ideas than in real life. Under this system list administrators do not censor views (only individuals filter out other individuals), and when individuals choose not to listen they retain the option of reviewing what they have previously censored (this option is unavailable in RL discourse unless we happen to have a stenographer recording the views of those we, through whatever means, decide not to hear).
When we walk in a public square and wish to block out views we know we do not want to hear, we have several options. We can use the police to suppress his speech by law if it meets stringent criteria of illegality (such as shouting fire in a crowded theater or making threats upon a person or property); or we can simply walk away. Physical space provides us the comfort and privacy of our home (a physical enclave in which we need not hear opinions we don’t like). The ideal discourse software would not need top-down administrator control, control over the discussion would move from the bottom up, from individuals filtering out other individuals (though always retaining the ability to hear what we previously filtered if we so desire). This system best preserves our intuitive notions of free speech while at the same time offering us the option of blocking out comments we find offensive or useless that we enjoy in real-world discourse. Administrator content control should be used as a last resort, and its inclusion is a testament to the severity of verbal attacks that have been observed in cyberspace’s short history.[51]
The stark differences between online and real-world discourse become apparent when one looks at forces which can cause dissolution of the discussion. In real-world discourse, it is easy to exercise control over disruptive participants; after all, we can see them, we can censure them verbally, and we can remove them physically if necessary (or have law enforcement do it for us). The same rules don’t apply to online discussions; participants in online discussions are at least slightly invisible, censure is generally ineffective (in the real-world its effectiveness is drawn from participant’s desire to maintain good standing among other participants and the community), and in an online discourse, one person can ruin a discussion by posting so many messages that other participants leave in disgust.
As Bruckman observed in her experiment in online democracy: “The conversation is completely dominated by a few extremely vocal individuals who post at great length and if you wanted to respond to everything they said, it would take you all day.” What mechanisms can be incorporated into our software to combat excessive posts without resorting to the “kill” command? Filtering is one option, but that is best used on an individual level (to avoid the appearance of top-down content control). A better option in this case would be to agree on certain rules of order at the start of the discourse. Such rules could, like Robert’s Rules, provide strict limits on who can speak when, or they could be as simple as “no more than x posts are allowed within a period of y days.” A moderate solution would give list administrators the ability to place an absolute number of posts, and to build into the software an easy way for participants to indicate that they wish to be recognized by the chair (that is, if they wish to introduce additional comments).
Online communities inevitably develop some kind of leadership[52], whether de facto or de jure – leadership may find its genesis in technological control, or incline towards the originator(s) of the forum in question[53], or gravitate towards the administrator of the rules that govern the forum. Leadership may shift into the hands of the personality(ies) that speak(s) most authoritatively in the group, or the person whom the community develops a high level of respect because of the personality’s contributions in time or effort to the online community[54]. Perhaps unsurprisingly, leadership can often tie in to the source(s) of law/power of the online community in question. In MUD/MOO environments, not only do the wizards play an enforcement role, they are very often looked to for counsel and direction[55]. In the moderated newsgroups of Usenet, popularly appointed members are given authority to administer and manage the rules of the group, and entrance into the group implicitly signifies recognition of the appointed member’s leadership role[56].
Another reason discourse software should include the option of administrator-level filtering is the potential for an individual or corporation to Spam the discussion list, either by contacting individuals directly or by posting a message in the group discussion space. The software should be constructed in such a way as to allow back-channel communication (See SECTION XXX) while protecting the privacy of individual email addresses. This could be accomplished through software that allows users to click on the names of other users and send them a message without the program revealing that person’s email address. In other words, the software would act as an email forwarding service allowing communication between members without necessitating that members exchange email addresses. Administrator control over spamming the list could be accomplished simply by filtering the individual, or issuing the “kill” command if the Spam comes from a member of the discourse. Administrators should also have the ability to cancel messages, and therefore would retain the ability to cancel Spam before it has a chance to disrupt the flow of discussion. Spamming, as well as use of list information for any commercial purpose without explicit authorization, should be explicitly prohibited in the terms of service, posted prominently and easy for participants to access.
Participants in online discussions must become familiar with the medium in which they are going to communicate before they start commenting. Specifically, it is the responsibility of participants in online discussions to learn basic netiquette as well as medium-specific acronyms and emoticons. Because of the importance of learning vis-à-vis real-world discussion (which has no similar prerequisites), ideal discourse software would make those documents easy to find and access. The interface should make such material easy to find; the FAQ should give, inter alia, the history of the discussion group, any pertinent rules or guidelines for speech, a clear description of the penalties for violating those rules, as well as easy to understand material on the proper use of common acronyms and emoticons. The software should also provide easy access (via email or otherwise) to persons who can help answer questions for new users.
Almost every online community now adopts FAQ’s (frequently asked questions) as an instrument of introduction as well as rule-setting for its participants. In line with the aversion to black-letter law, and the tendency towards simplicity and ease of understanding, the idea of FAQ’s evolved and caught on very quickly. As a body of information[59] (including, ordinarily, the history and the do’s and don’ts) about the particular online community, FAQ’s offer a simple way for new participants to get acquainted with the rules and processes governing the community in question, and save administrators/old members the hassle of re-explaining and re-justifying the rules to newcomers. Also, FAQ’s are overall more efficient as a way to simplify and plainly identify areas of concern to subscribers, as well as being convenient reference points. The development of an FAQ depends on the community itself. In some, the FAQ’s are drafted by the administrators, whereas in others the FAQ may be a product of one or more hard-working members of the community. For some communities, the FAQ’s double as the rules that govern interactions and transactions within their space. In others, the FAQ’s are precisely that, and operate in supplementation of, and ancillary to, the actual rules that govern the online space. In tandem with online gift culture and on account of the obvious utility (and by inference, the amount of time and effort invested in their production) of FAQ’s, FAQ originators earn respect[60] and reputation for their work, and often become the points of reference for the various administrative and technical matters that arise within the online community. This can precipitate the gravitation towards leadership, and the attendant emergence of sources of law/power within the community, that was alluded to earlier.
This element is perhaps one of the most powerful in the processes of an online community. The predominantly text-based nature of online community interaction translates into an absence of the physical, social, verbal, visual and other cues that are inherent in other forms of human contact. The result is an equalizing effect[61] (part of which we alluded to earlier) – online participants are able to explore and discover relationships and human transactions online which may not have been possible offline[62]. People are less inhibited by their social contexts and circumstances, and have no way of pre-judging the person on the other end[63], save for the things such person says online. This has allowed for transcendence – of borders, geography, ideology, genealogy, gender, social hierarchy, disability, and every other barrier to human interpersonal connection in the real world. And this means an increased potential for meaningful and substantive dialogue and discourse on the basis of communicated shared interests, free of the real-world restraints (such as perceived differences in social status[64]) that crimp and discourage the same. And within online communities, this translates into a more merit-based evaluation of individual contributions (in tandem with the requirement of building reputation afresh) that is less captive to social, gender, hierarchy, or cultural conceptions.
As in real-world discourse, online discourse may fall victim to social inequalities, but in this case these inequalities may be related to the medium itself. The medium of cyberspace is still a predominately male arena, and research has found it to be “less hospitable to women”[65] Nearly 100% of computer club members are boys, and “as early as preschool boys are seen driving girls away from the computers”[66] Women are therefore discouraged from participating in traditionally male environments because they do not know how—or are not allowed—to succeed in these traditionally male environments. Studies of listservs have confirmed this inequality, noting that men participated at higher rates both in terms of participation and length of posts.[67] Despite the apparent potential for an online veil of ignorance to make us blind to social inequalities, they persist online. As one observer remarked: "Cyberspace, it turns out, isn't much of an Eden after all. It's marred by just as many sexist ruts and gender conflicts as the Real World”[68]
To promote effective deliberation, both the topic and the timeline for discussion should be announced at the start of the discourse. When the deadline nears, the discussion should move into a stage where members deliberate on proposals. During this period, it is essential that members on both sides of the issue attempt to see it from their opponent’s perspective. The very nature of deliberative discourse is to attempt to evaluate all arguments—including those to which you are initially opposed—and evaluate them only on the relative strength of their arguments. The Berkman Center has developed in-house “rotisserie” software which could be integrated in some form into discourse software. This system forces participants to comment on proposals which they may be opposed to, as a means of promoting understanding of different viewpoints. First, a question is posed to all group participants. Participants answer the question, then send their responses back to the server, where they are “shuffled” and sent back to participants. Participants then read the response and submit a critique of that response back to the server. This forces participants not only to explicate their views, but also critique the views of others. As such, it would be an ideal feature of discourse software.
[1] Maltz, “Customary Law & Power in Internet Communities”, Journal of Computer Mediated Communication (JCMC) Vol.2, Issue 1, at http://www.ascusc.org/jcmc/vol2/issue1/custom.html
[2] Lawrence Lessig, “Code and Other Laws of Cyberspace” (1999), at 89-90.
[3] Ibid., at 60.
[4] See “Free Speech”, in “The Rights and Responsibilities of Participants in Networked Communities”, at 55-68 (Dorothy E. Denning & Herbert S. Lin, eds., 1994).
[5] See “Privacy”, supra note 4, at 99-111.
[6] And indeed, Lessig identifies code as only one of 4 tensions that may serve to regulate cyberspace at large, law (black-letter), markets and norms being the others. See supra, note 2, at 87 et seq.
[7] Jonathan Zittrain, “The Rise and Fall of Sysopdom,”, Harvard
Journal of Law and Technology, 10(3), Summer 1997.
[8] Howard Rheingold, “The Art of Hosting Good Conversations Online”, at http://www.rheingold.com/texts/artonlinehost.html.
[9] Kollock & Smith, supra note 1.
[10] Jennifer L. Mnookin, “Virtual(ly) Law: The Emergence of Law in LambdaMOO”, Journal of Computer Mediated Communication (JCMC) Vol.2, Issue 1, at http://www.ascusc.org/jcmc/vol2/issue1/custom.html.
[11]Williams, “Online Moderator
Guidelines and Community – Building Tips” at http://tcfreenet.org/help/confdoc/hosting.html.
[12] Suler, supra note 11
[13] Suler, supra note 12.
[14] Kollock and Smith, “Managing the Virtual Commons: Cooperation and Conflict in Computer Communities” at http://www.sscnet.ucla.edu/soc/faculty/kollock/papers/vcommons.htm.
[15] John Coate, “Cyberspace Innkeeping: Building Online Community”, in Reinventing Technology, Rediscovering Community: Critical Explorations of Computing as a Social Practice, 165, at 170-172 (Philip E. Agre, Douglas Schuler, eds., 1997).
[16] Ibid.
[17] Barry Wellman & Milena Gulia, “Virtual Communities as Communities: Net Surfers Don’t Ride Alone”, in Communities in Cyberspace 167, at 182 (Marc A. Smith & Peter Kollock eds., 1999).
[18] Ibid.
[19] Barry Wellman & Milena Gulia, supra note 2, at 177
[20] Howard Rheingold, “A Slice of My Life in My Virtual Community” in High Noon on the Electronic Frontier: Conceptual Issues in Cyberspace 413, at 425-426 (Ludlow ed., 1996); Peter Kollock, “The Economies of Online Cooperation: Gifts and Public Goods in Cyberspace”, in Communities in Cyberspace 220, at 220-221 (Marc A. Smith & Peter Kollock eds., 1999); Eric Raymond, “Homesteading the Noosphere” at http://www.tuxedo.org/~esr/writings/homesteading/homesteading.html.
[21] Peter Kollock, ibid., at 228; Eric Raymond, ibid.
[22] An illustrative statement of the underlying attitude is contained in the following - Eric Raymond, “How to Become A Hacker”, at http://www.tuxedo.org/~esr/faqs/hacker-howto.html.
[23] Andrew Calcutt, “White Noise: An A-Z of the Contradictions in Cyberculture”, (1999) at 22.
[24] Michael Hauben & Ronda Hauben, supra note 30, at 243.
[25] Elizabeth M. Reid, “Communication and Community on Internet Relay Chat: Constructing Communities”, in High Noon on the Electronic Frontier: Conceptual Issues in Cyberspace, 397, at 399-400 (Ludlow ed., 1996).
[26]. “Smiley” dictionaries abound; see, for example, http://wellweb.com/behappy/smiley.htm, http://www.chatlist.com/faces.html, and http://www.eff.org/papers/eegtti/eeg_286.html.
[27] See Guidelines for Electronic Communications at “The Net: User Guidelines and Netiquette” by Arlene Rinaldi, at http://www.fau.edu/netiquette/net/elec.html. However, at least one online community is averse to emoticon use – see Stacy Horn “Cyberville” (1998) at 63.
[28] Ibid.
[29] Derrick De Kerckhove, “Connected Intelligence” (1997), at 48.
[30] For an example of the use of avatars and text balloons, see “Communicative Subtlety in Multimedia Chat” by John Suler, at http://www.rider.edu/users/suler/psycyber/hilucy.html. See also, “The Psychology of Avatars and Graphical Space in Multimedia Chat Communities (or... How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Palace Props)” at http://www.rider.edu/users/suler/psycyber/psyav.html.
[34] Kollock and Smith, supra, note 1.
[35] See Wayne Rash, Jr., “Politics on the Nets: Wiring the Political Process” (1997), at 71-76 for an example of an effective online political advocacy group that built on its shared common objective.
[36] Peter Kollock, supra note 5.
[37] See Michael Hauben & Ronda Hauben, “Netizens” (1997), at 281-287, for an example of an online community thriving on the basis of common interest, i.e. life in New York City.
[38] See Amy Jo Kim, “Secrets of Successful Web Communities: 9 Timeless Design Principles for Community-Building”, at http://www.naima.com/articles/webtechniques.html.
[39] See Maltz, supra, note 1.
[40] Coate, supra, note 20 at 184-185.
[41] Pavel Curtis, “Mudding: Social Phenomena in Text-Based Virtual Realities” in Reinventing Technology, Rediscovering Community: Critical Explorations of Computing as a Social Practice 143, at 159-160 (Philip E. Agre, Douglas Schuler, eds., 1997)
[42] Elizabeth M. Reid, supra, note 30 at 404-406.
[43] Jurgen Habermas, in Howard Rheingold, The Virtual Community, (New York: HarperPerennial, 1993), 282. Habermas notes: “A portion of the public sphere is constituted in every conversation in which private persons come together to form a public. They are then acting neither as business or professional people conducting their private affairs, nor as legal consociates subject to the legal regulations of a state bureaucracy and obligated to obedience.”
[44] John Seabrook, “My First Flame,” New Yorker, June 6, 1994, 71.
[45] Plato, Republic,
http://phd.evansville.edu/tetra_4/republic/gyges.htm.
[46] Ibid.
[47] Amy Bruckman, “Democracy in Cyberspace: Lessons from a Failed Political Experiment,” http://web.mit.edu/womens-studies/www/bruckman.html (23 February, 2000).
[49] See Julian Dibbell, “A Rape in Cyberspace,” http://www.levity.com/julian/bungle_print.html (8 February, 2000).
[50] “Changing the Nature of Online Conversation: An Evaluation of RealityCheck.com,” http://www.weblab.org/sgd/excerpt.pdf, 5-7.
[51] See Dibbell, supra, note 49.
[52] See Amy Bruckman’s account in “’Democracy’ in Cyberspace: Lessons from a Failed Political Experiment”, at http://web.mit.edu/afs/athena.mit.edu/org/w/womens-studies/www/bruckman.html.
[53] Bruckman, ibid; Suler, “On Being A God” at www.rider.edu/users/suler/psycyber/jbum.html.
[54] See John Suler’s account of how a member of the Palace attains the status of “wizard” in the Palace, in “Knowledge, Power, Wisdom…and your very own asterisk: Wizards at the Palace” at http://www.rider.edu/users/suler/psycyber/wizards.html.
[55] Ibid.
[56] Kollock and Smith, supra, note 1.
[57] See account of Rheingold’s influence over the Electric Minds community by Nancy White, “Musings on Online Community Governance – Lessons Learned (?) From My Electric Minds Experience”, at http://www.fullcirc.com/community/governance.htm.
[58] Maltz, supra, note 1; Julian Dibbell, “A Rape in Cyberspace; or How an Evil Clown, a Haitian Trickster Spirit, Two Wizards, and a Cast of Dozens Turned a Database into a Society”, in High Noon on the Electronic Frontier: Conceptual Issues in Cyberspace 375, at 391 (Ludlow ed., 1996).
[59] Ibid.
[60] Eric Raymond, supra, note 7.
[61] Coate, supra, note 20 at 173.
[62] For an ironic account of real-world prejudices finally intruding into flourishing online relationships, see Stacy Horn, supra, note 32 at 6-7.
[63] Howard Rheingold, supra, note 27, at 422-423.
[64] Barry Wellman & Milena Gulia, supra, note 2, at 184, 186.
[65] Concetta M. Stewart, et. al. “Gender and Participation in Synchronous CMC: An IRC Case Study,” http://www.emoderators.com/ipct-j/1999/n1-2/stewart.html (8 February, 2000). See also, C. Adams, 'This is not our fathers' pornography': Sex, lies, and computers. In C. Ess (Ed.), Philosophical perspectives on computer-mediated communication (pp. 147-170), (Albany: State University Press of New York Press, 1996).
[66] Ibid. See also D. Spender, Nattering on the Net: Women, power and cyberspace. (North Melborne, Australia: Spinifex Press Pty Ltd., 1995).
[67] Ibid.
[68] B. Kantrowitz, “Men, Women, and Computers,” Newsweek, May 16, 1994, 48.