Social Impacts of Communication Technologies
With the introduction of any new communication technology, there is widespread speculation regarding both the appropriate uses of that technology and the impact that that technology will have on those who use it. As Carolyn Marvin has observed, new communications media are a stage upon which a grander drama is enacted: "existing groups perpetually negotiate power, authority, representation, and knowledge with whatever resources are available. New media intrude on these negotiations by providing new platforms on which old groups confront one another" (Marvin 1988, 5).
Computer-mediated communication technologies, once reserved for use by closed societies of computer "experts," have recently begun to receive increasing public attention for reasons political, educational, and economic. The Clinton administration made the creation of a National Information Infrastructure a cornerstone of popular political rhetoric. Proponents of an informed citizenry on both sides of the political fence have emphasized the important role that universal information access could play in the lives of the citizens of our democracy. Educators and others have espoused the rhetoric of the technological sublime: expanded educational possibilities and greater economic egalitarianism are only a few of the benefits we hope will be brought about by improved access to a common "pool" of information made possible through technology and information networks. And there are perhaps even more individuals and corporations striving to find ways to press the newer technologies into the service of capitalism--whether in the buying, selling, maintaining, and servicing of the technological implements and infrastructure; or in the use of the newer media to expand the market for existing products.
Perhaps because it seems trite to mention it in the same sentence with any of the aforementioned very pressing goals, seldom is the variety of possible everyday implications for the users of communication technology considered. What impact, if any, does a new communication technology have on the life of the average person? In the 1800s, for example, telegraphy did not have much real impact on the daily life of the populace because it was not something one could use on one's own: "One of the chief disadvantages of telegraphy was that a skilled operator had to decipher all messages," thus limiting the range of social expression possible through that medium and formalizing any such contact (Aronson 1977, 17).
One of the most important impacts of the invention of the telephone was that it placed a means of long-distance communication in the hands of the unskilled operator, thus opening up to the general public avenues of communication never before possible. Additional implications were that one could contact and, conversely, be contacted by people outside one's daily, local sphere of influence. An unintended effect was that those contacts could be initiated outside one's individual sphere of control. The telephone was thus the first widely accessible technology that provided instantaneous communication between geographically dispersed individuals.
Recent advances have led to a more widespread availability of lower costing fax and computer technology. One of the primary benefits of the personal computer over fax is that it provides, for the cost of a relatively inexpensive local connection, the potential for synchronous and asynchronous communication with a multitude of users distributed globally. We must consider carefully the variety of impacts of this media shift. Once technologies have entered the "everyday" realm of our lives, there are implications both profound and trivial--changes in the way we perceive our world, ourselves, and our sense of the larger political and cultural order within which social relationships are negotiated. In modern society, electronic communication is playing an increasingly important role. Working in virtual teams, using the Internet for educational purposes, conducting business via electronic communication, and using the online environment for recreation require a certain level of technological savvy. In order to communicate effectively in this environment, it is just as important that we develop our sociological savvy, as well: we must make ourselves aware of the subtle ways in which that environment changes what we say, how we say it, and the characteristics of our interactions with others. My argument is that LISTSERV communication creates a fast-paced, highly social environment that privileges members of certain groups while silencing others, emboldens some users to the point of aggression, and expands the geographical range of potential interactions. Aspects of the environment itself which influence these interactions include the one-to-many user interface, the perceived anonymity of isolated contributors, the lack of nonverbal socioemotional cues, a nonlinear communication structure, and the absence of regulating feedback. Factors that influence how an individual responds to this environment include gender, age, early socialization to computers, geography, amount of free time, level of computer access and autonomy, and nationality. I will develop this thesis through documenting existing research on the subject of e-mail communication; exploring typical list discourse and subscribers' perceptions of the environment; analyzing aspects of the medium that influence flaming behavior, lurking, and gender issues; and, finally, exploring some of the more theoretical implications related to use of electronic communication technologies.
My conclusions are based on evidence gathered during a several-year process of ethnographic observation, interviews, and analysis conducted within one particular online community: an electronic mail discussion list called Cinema-L. While the choice of the term community to describe the group is intentional, I recognize that throughout this thesis the use of the term is not systematic, and there are many contradictions. Social science researchers use the word community to encompass many different meanings and to describe many levels of interaction. For example, Ferdinand Tönnies, one of the earliest contributors to this field of inquiry, differentiated between the concepts Gemeinschaft (or community) and Gesellschaft (or society), with the three central aspects of community being kinship ties, geographical proximity, and friendship bonds (Bell and Newby 1972, 23-25). Many normative sociological definitions of community align the concept with an idealized past typified by close personal ties and stability. Other definitions address descriptive rather than prescriptive elements of the concept. Researcher George A. Hillery attempted to identify areas of agreement related to the concept of community in the 1950s and found the following elements: a defined geographic area, social interaction, and common bonds among members (see Bell and Newby 1972, 27; and Poplin 1979, 9). [1] Throughout this thesis, the word community is used to convey descriptive rather than normative aspects of the concept: the Cinema-L community is a group of people who "get together" regularly in a virtual space for purposes of social interaction around a topic of common interest. Within this group, individuals not only discuss cinema analysis and appreciation, but also develop patterns of interaction, define roles in relation to others on the list, and begin to rely on one another as part of a meaningful reference group that helps individuals organize, understand, and share their experiences and activities.
Research Method, Sample, and Theoretical Framework
In the early 1990s, I joined my first electronic mail discussion list. I was, at the time, something of a technophobe who found herself muddling through the finer points of the electronic mail system that we had begun using at the office where I worked (and still do work), when a friend alerted me to the existence of several e-mail lists that he thought I might be interested in joining. A general novice to the world of the "virtual" (including LISTSERVs [2], virtual mail, and the resulting friendships generated thereby) and a longtime fan of the cinema, I chose to join Cinema-L, a list devoted to discussion of movies. Within minutes of subscribing, I began receiving e-mail messages from cinema enthusiasts throughout the world. I encouraged my officemate to join the list, and she did; and we were both members of that list for several years, accessing e-mail messages from computers located on our desktops at work, during breaks in the workday and at lunchtime. I discovered that learning the intricacies of electronic mail was not unlike walking a tightrope balanced neatly between the dual systems of "Bitnet" and "Internet." [3] Within a few days, however, I had mastered the basics. Every morning I checked my "in-box" for messages. I "lurked" ("listening in" on group discussions without sending any of my own comments) on the list quietly for a few weeks before "posting" (e-mailing) my first message to the group. Shortly thereafter, I became an active participant in daily discussions with the group, and developed virtual friendships with assorted members of the list. The amount of my own involvement with the list and its members waxed and waned, a direct function of the amount of time each day I was able to devote to keeping up with and participating in list discussions.
Belonging to a list quite easily becomes part of a complex web of social interactions that can have characteristics of addiction. I joined Cinema-L at the urging of a friend. I, in turn, urged a friend of mine to join. I began to look forward to my daily interactions with list members as one would anticipate "hanging out" with a group of close friends. The interpersonal aspects of the list intrigued me: the discussions covered a large variety of topics, some of them only peripherally cinema-related, and involved a wide range of social discourse. Occasionally when the list suffers a technical difficulty, subscribers' level of involvement in the "list experience" becomes quite evident. Usually, one of two types of technical difficulties occurs: either multiple copies of the same message begin appearing on the list, or the list "goes down" for a day or so and no messages at all are sent. When the list "comes back up," it usually contains a few messages related to movies and a lot of frantic sounding messages with titles such as "Is Anybody Out There?" [4]
Throughout the month of April 1993, I entered a new phase in my own list membership experience when I began monitoring the list as an interpretive social scientist--examining the messages in the hopes of pinpointing and analyzing some of the more unique aspects of this communication medium. Throughout this thesis, I refer to April 1993 as Phase I of my research. During that time, I gathered information about both qualitative and quantitative aspects of the daily "public" conversation on the list and concurrently conducted ethnographic questionnaires and interviews with 14 research volunteers.
Several years later, in March of 1996--after about a year's hiatus from the list necessitated by increased demands on my time on both professional and personal fronts that made keeping up with the list's discussions impossible--I resubscribed to the list, this time as a lurker, and this time choosing the "digest" format in an attempt to make the e-mail volume somewhat more manageable. [5] Again I collected information about the public discourse on the list and conducted ethnographic questionnaires and interviews with 15 research volunteers. Throughout this thesis, I refer to April 1996 as Phase II of my research.
The questionnaire that I developed for my research participants was designed to interrogate their perceptions of the social aspects of the Cinema-L list and of e-mail in general. The broader area of inquiry I investigated was the uses and meanings people make of technology in their everyday lives. The process of collecting data, forming impressions, and verifying my research hypotheses with participants has been an evolving process that has spanned several years. During both phases of the study, after receiving my research participants' survey responses, I followed up the questionnaire with additional interviews where appropriate. Conducting the survey/interview process via e-mail thus collapsed what are usually discrete elements of the social science research procedure, in that the survey and interview seemed all one long step in an evolving ethnographic process. Also, when I contacted individuals who were not members of the group of research volunteers to obtain permission to use messages that had been contributed to the list's public discourse, I explained my research interests and in many cases included sections of my commentary that would provide a context for my request. In several cases, discussions with those participants resulted in new perspectives for my research. Additionally, after each phase of my study, I sent a copy of my preliminary research summary to each of the questionnaire/interview participants and encouraged feedback. As a final step, I marked up a semi-final draft of this thesis, hung it off my Web page, and invited list members to visit the site and send me their comments. I base my conclusions in this thesis upon the following data sources my observation and analysis of the public discourse on the Cinema-L list during April 1993 and April 1996,
My observations are grounded very much in the particular--in the individual experiences related to me by the list members who graciously consented to be interviewed or who allowed me permission to use their on-list discourse for the purposes of social science analysis, and in my own experiences in the LISTSERV environment.
Because the topic under discussion is communication, many of the issues I address in this thesis--speech and silence, gender politics, conflict, global relations--deal directly with those aspects of the electronic medium which influence whether or not a given individual is able to achieve a sense of personal "voice" and a certain comfort level as an accepted and valued member of a community within that environment. Given that underlying theme, I would like to position my approach within the context of my own theoretical and ethical beliefs of feminism and utilitarianism, respectively. Since I want to make explicit my own biases as a situated researcher/participant from the outset, my personal beliefs related to that stance that are pertinent to the discussion contained in this thesis are as follows:
Within the social science research community, I would identify myself as an ethnographer and interpretive social scientist.
This thesis fulfills the requirements of interpretive social science as outlined by Strauss and Corbin (1994) in their article, "Grounded Theory Methodology." While I have provided my own perspectives and interpretations of the online events that I witnessed and participated in, I share Strauss and Corbin's concern that "interpretations must include the perspectives and voices of the people whom we study" (Strauss and Corbin 1994, 274). My theories have evolved through several phases of ethnographic observation and interviews, coupled with feedback from the members of the Cinema-L community whose on-list discourse and off-list interviews are liberally quoted throughout this thesis.
Discovering the issues that had relevance to the topic under discussion was an iterative process. I began by observing the list and gathering data, and found after several weeks that the data had begun to assume form and pattern around several very important issues:
The general procedure is to ask, What is the influence of gender (for instance), or power, or social class on the phenomena under study?--then to trace this influence as precisely as possible, as well as its influence flowing in reverse direction. Grounded theory procedures force us to ask, for example: What is power in this situation and under specified conditions? How is it manifested, by whom, when, where, how, with what consequences (and for whom or what)? (Strauss and Corbin 1994, 276)
Over time, my data led me to ask questions that revolve around issues of voice and communicative power: In this community, who speaks? Who is silent? What is said? What is not said? What impact does geographic location, or nationality, or age have on the phenomena under study? Who holds power in the group? How is power obtained, and how is it manifested in the group dynamics that occur? How is electronic communication similar to and different from face-to-face communication? What kinds of users perceive the environment, and the online community, favorably? What kinds of users find the experience alienating, or even threatening?
In this thesis, I have attempted to answer some of these questions. I have also tried to remain faithful to the data, to my own interpretations, and to the members of the online community represented within these pages.
We who aim at grounded theories also believe (as do many other researchers) that we have obligations to the actors we have studied: obligations to "tell their stories" to them and to others--to give them voice--albeit in the context of their own inevitable interpretations. We owe it to our "subjects" to tell them verbally or in print what we have learned, and to give clear indications of why we have interpreted them as we have. (Strauss and Corbin 1994, 281)
Balancing these sometimes competing goals was one of the primary challenges I faced as ethnographic participant/observer within the research process.
Ethnographer as "Insider" During Phase I
I believe that because I was perceived as being one of the Cinema-L "regulars" during the first phase of my research, subscribers felt comfortable volunteering to be involved in my study and were interested in responding to the on-list discussion I generated. It was also probably helpful that a few of the other Cinema-L regulars (including several of the most frequent posters) publicly volunteered to participate in my ethnographic endeavors; their support served to legitimize the study as a topic of discussion on the list.
In some ways, my "knowing" these people and their ways previously made doing an ethnography of them easier. I knew all of the "in jokes" and insider references, [7] and I was familiar with many of the more social aspects of list culture. In short, I was a cinema lover and an avid list participant long before I became a student of media studies and subsequently an ethnographer. In other ways, however, my level of involvement in the list made my research more difficult, because at the time that I began the study, I was very much an "insider." I was a daily contributor to the network, I had in the past become involved in at least one flame war, and I had never stepped back from addressing any issue on which I felt the desire to express an opinion. I had often posted messages on issues such as "the ways in which women are presented in film and in the media in general," and I had tried (and still do) to present a feminist viewpoint on the list. The ways in which women construct meaning out of the films they see and the other media they consume is one of my primary interests, and that interest has always been evident in my Cinema-L postings. I contributed quite a few messages, for instance, during a prolonged and heated discussion of Thelma and Louise on the list in 1992.
I had also presented myself as a person who was willing to admit to having an interest in horror movies, which receive little attention on this list, and which are regarded by some as a "lower" cultural form on the cinematic hierarchy. [8] While "low cinema culture" topics such as slasher films and pornography are occasionally addressed on the list, the topics most frequently discussed relate to mainstream, commercially available American films.
I had described myself on the list as being blonde (and therefore most likely Caucasian, I suppose) during a time when a number of blonde jokes were being circulated on Cinema-L and throughout the media in general. I had also mentioned my age (28 years old during Phase I of my research, somewhat lower than the average age of my research volunteers), my profession (a member of the instructional design staff working in distance education at Penn State), and my background (a lifelong native of rural central Pennsylvania). It's difficult to tell if any of these factors had an impact upon how the people on the list "saw" me or reacted to me--or at least my virtual persona, since the only "me" they could "see" was my words on a computer screen.
Ethnographer as Something of an "Outsider" During Phase II
When I rejoined the list in late March of 1996, I subscribed in digest format in the interests of more easily managing my list-related activities amid an already overflowing in-box. Unfortunately, while I found subscribing to the LISTSERV in digest format more convenient, at the same time I found aspects of it somewhat alienating, as well. Receiving one summary message each day, to peruse after the fact, is a lot more like reading a transcript of the 6 o'clock news (no matter how interesting the news) than it is like participating in a dynamic discussion. The interactivity, that feeling of being a part of an ongoing conversation, is missing. Also, I noted that as I posted less frequently, I felt less a part of the list community; the enthusiasm I had felt as a very active list participant waned somewhat when I took a place on the sidelines and my role became primarily that of a lurker/observer.
I discovered that my position within the community had changed, as well. I rejoined the list after a break of about a year or so--what is perceived in "list time" to be a long hiatus. [9] I discovered after that absence that although several of the key members who had been on the list when I participated more actively in the discussions were still members, many of them had left the list or were participating only in "lurk" mode. I experienced firsthand some of the negative aspects of what it feels like to be perceived as a "newbie" on the list, in that my initial feeble attempts at posting were roundly ignored. My off-list experiences were more successful: survey respondents were quite obliging in offering their time and their comments in our interviews. Additionally, in contrast to the first phase of my research, when the summary ethnographic information I posted to the list generated a groundswell of support, enthusiasm, and rich discussion, the ethnographic summary I posted during April 1996 dropped silently into the electronic well and left barely a ripple. Only one list participant felt compelled to respond publicly. On the other hand, the experience gave me a renewed understanding of the trials and tribulations of "newbie-hood." My status and position change also allowed me to achieve some distance from my topic--which undoubtedly contributed to the more analytical perspective I was able to bring to my role as researcher.
Themes and Structure of this Thesis
This thesis is organized thematically rather than chronologically, and touches upon a wide range of topics. Chapter 2 places my research within the larger frame of academic inquiry by providing a brief summary of the research literature pertaining to electronic mail as a communication medium. Chapter 3 provides a foundation for my research by presenting descriptive information about the list experience: typical messages and on-list discourse related to topics cinematic and otherwise, including commentary on the list as a social arena, an interpretive fandom community, and a public forum for the discussion of current events. Chapter 4 introduces the reader to some of the participants of Cinema-L by providing information about the people who consented to be interviewed. Chapter 5 concentrates especially on the unique communication challenges that can lead to open conflict (flame wars) on and off the list. Chapter 6 examines issues related to "voice" in an online community: who speaks and who is silent, including an in-depth commentary on the phenomenon of "lurking." Chapter 7 addresses gender issues in Cyberspace, based on analysis of comparative data from 1993 and 1996. Chapter 8 analyzes some of the more ideological implications of technology through examining the ways in which technologies have altered our perceptions of communication, community, and art. Finally, Chapter 9 summarizes some of my conclusions related to the electronic environment as a communication medium, and suggests areas for future research.