I'm fond of the lurkers too. As I've mentioned before, I think of them as the angels in Wings of Desire.

So this means the de-lurkers who become contributors are Peter Falk? Cool - that's the best compliment I've been paid in a long yard.

Also finding this discussion fascinating. Anything I want to say at this juncture, though, would sound inflammatory when I would just be attempting interesting. There are negatives to being a knee-jerk Devil's advocate - especially when you see ways to be provocative on both sides.

yeah, I lurves scrappy in unholy yet righteous ways.

Ken, it's okay for advocating for the devil. we're discussing, not arguing, i think.

I agree that there is leadership, and the fact is that, as Lessig notes, the person in cyberspace with the tech code can create the legal code. (If you're really interested in the constitutions of online community, Lessig is the guy to be reading.) I think it's probably for the best that none of that is made more explicit or more powerful than it has to be, in part because that allows people who want to claim power within the community to do so through action rather than through, say, electioneering.

Hey, DavidS, do you mind if I steal your metaphor for my tag?

That was an interesting article, and our own discussion has been even more fascinating.

Allyson said:

And we do actually have leadership here, in the form of social status, and I don't really get why that is so repugnant an idea.

Allyson speaks for me in this regard. I do, however, get why the idea of "social status" might be repugnant. Many of us here got the shit end of the stick back in high school. Personally, when I think of "social status," I have unpleasant--and automatic--associations with the treatment I got at the hands of certain socially powerful groups at my school.

Here's a better way to think of things, IMO: We are no longer in high school (well, most of us are). We are now adults who are participating in the cyber equivalent of a small, frontier town.

There are people in this town who are the ones who keep things running. They are the equivalent of the miller, the grocer, the telegraph operator, the banker, the doctor, etc. These people are absolutely necessary for the life of the town, but in general, everyone treats them as they would any other neighbor.

Then, there are the people who are socially active on a large scale. They organize the quilting bees, the barn raisings, the potluck dinners, the dances, and so on. These people, like the people in the group above, would probably be known to or recognized by everyone in the town.

Other citizens will have a different sort of fame that makes them known to the community at large. They may be known for the beauty of their front garden, the stylishness of their dress, their rich baritone singing voice, the huge number of cats in the back yard, or the cupola on their house that has been turned into a bat refuge.

Then we have the people who are essential to the community on a smaller scale. These would be the people in the town who would be the ones people would go to for advice or a shoulder to cry on. They are the ones who may not seem "important," but who would be sorely missed by the community at large should they disappear.

There will be smaller, cohesive social groups within the town as well. The sewing circle whose chatter would certainly shock the Reverend should he drop by. The bunch who are the regulars at the local saloon. A book club that meets at the lending library and who exchange books sent from family members back east.

Of course, there will be many people in our hypothetical small town who keep to themselves for the most part, who maybe get together with a neighbor for a cup of tea, who will go to the monthly square dance if the mood happens to strike them at the right time, and who are polite, quiet, and not necessarily known to the majority of the townspeople.

Keeping with the frontier town metaphor, this is a place with many people who didn't necessarily like all the rules and regimentation that existed back east. On the other hand, they realize that it's nice to live in a civilized setting. Normally, they would only have to call in the law if a stranger came in and started causing trouble. That's when the sheriff would take her badge out of her bedside drawer and go out and Krav the offender. Afterwards, she would put back her badge and go back to looking at pictures of pretty, pretty men.

Other than that, most squabbles are taken care of on the spot as neighbors hash things out. There may be hard feelings for a while, but normally things will work out as all parties want to keep the town a nice place to live.

As the town has grown, however, certain decisions need to be made. Should the old barn be torn down and a proper dance hall be built in its place? Should the roads be paved? Does the school need a second teacher? Does the library need a special annex for its growing porn collection? When the town was smaller, things just happened as people had a spiffy new idea or as it was seen that certain things were needed.

This is when the town calls a town meeting to discuss the idea of the library annex. People get to voice their opinions on whether or not the porn collection needs its own room. It gets messy, especially when the comic book fans want their own annex, and another group of people decide that they would like to talk about how to decorate the Porn Room. Normally quiet townspeople may speak up, since the decision has some effect on their lives. Chances are that some feathers will get ruffled and some tempers will fray, but once the town meeting is over, people can settle back into their lives in the community. Not everyone will like every decision that is made, and some changes will be seen as changes for the worse by some, but by and large, it is the community making the decision.

New people will arrive in town from time to time, sometimes in groups, sometimes as they stroll into town by their lonesome. Some of these newcomers are content to settle into a little cottage at the end of town and get to know their nearest neighbors. Others will actively seek out the sewing circle, the book club, etc. and look for a way to get involved. Some of the established townsfolk will look at the newcomers askance, trying to figure out what kind of people they are and how they will fit into the community. Others will be quick to smother the newcomer in welcome, bringing over pie and telling him or her about all the things the town has to offer. Unless the newcomer turns out to be a troublemaker, chances are that in a while, people will have trouble remembering when he or she wasn't living there.

(Continued in next post.)

(Continued from previous post)

Going back to the high-school metaphor, social capital plays out differently. In high school, having social power is seen as an end in itself and as something that needs to be kept at all costs. Ergo, you have groups like the Cordettes who do their best to keep the Willows of the world demoralized so that they can feel more powerful. Then there are students who go for a different kind of power by beating others in academics or sports so that they can parlay that advantage outside of high school. There is also more of a competition for resources--resources that are often controlled by the administration, not the students. That can lead to bad feelings between the marching band and the glee club, and so on. In the case of the high school analogy, social capital becomes a case of the haves vs. the have-nots, and I think that it is this dynamic that can irk people.

What (I think) I'm trying to say is that we do have a sort of social hierarchy here, but it's one that a) has developed organically, and b) that is more a hierarchy of function than of rank. People who do have some sort of social or functional prominence don't use their (seeming) power in order to keep that power for themselves or keep others from gaining an advantage. We are mature enough to see that it is better to use that social rank in order to make this community one that can serve all of its members and keep it as a safe place for those members to live their cyber-lives.

I agree with David. I loathe and despise the idea that there are "active" or "core" buffistas who have extra rights. And yes, I do remember that quantifying respect was my idea. I was wrong, OK?

I love Anne W's Little Buffistas on the Prairie analogy.

Agreed with those who say Buffista is not a nation and has neither citizens nor government. We are, however, a rough group of peeps, and anyone who has assembled an F2F can tell you peep-assembly requires at least one person to take some of the reins in order to get anything done. As with F2F peeps, it can be a different person for every event. And it's all cool.

The word "privilege" alarms me a little, because it's the sort of thing that sets apart one group from another. Stratification (e.g., representation) is a useful tool in government, but it can make a cocktail party an unfriendly -- competitive, exclusive -- place to be.

(Suddenly remembering a management article I read once: a social study in groups crossing busy thoroughfares. Like, how they get the gumption/critical mass to cross the street together, or whether, as at the F2F Saturday, I go streaking across in traffic and stand on the far side scoffing at my dinnermates who have waited for the light. The upshot of the article was that it's usually one or two people who actively say, Okay, let's go, step out into traffic, and everyone follows automatically.)

The upshot of the article was that it's usually one or two people who actively say, Okay, let's go, step out into traffic, and everyone follows automatically.)

Well, yeah, because the others know that it's the first ones out who'll be hit by the car, and then the car will stop, so they'll be okay.