You'll often hear politicians, social commentators and people born before 1970 lamenting that society has lost the ‘community spirit’ it once had. And to be fair, it’s easy to see where they're coming from. We’re a nation that lives in ignorance of our neighbours, is terrified of the under-educated and hyper-active youths terrorising the streets, and which has become utterly dependent on an economic philosophy that values the pursuit of individual wealth above all else.
In other words: we’re selfish, self-obsessed, self-loathers who are too scared to say hello to each other in case someone suddenly pulls a knife.
Yet how true is this picture? Sure, the only time I’ve met my neighbours is when they’ve come to complain about the noise I’m making. And yes it’s an inescapable fact that violent crime is on the rise. And okay, most of my friends are sufficiently worried about the (tens of) thousands of pounds of debt they got into at university that finding work with a generous salary has become more important than they might have wanted it to be back when they were younger and full of grand ideals. But but but…
Hello Facebook. Hello Wikipedia. Hello even, to World of Warcraft.
Barring some spectacular economic or environmental meltdown, the online world is only going to get bigger over the course of this century, and inevitably people will spend more and more of their time there. As has already started to happen, the line between what takes place on the Internet and IRL will keep getting fuzzier and fuzzier until- who knows? Perhaps our grandchildren will be hooked up to the Internet through special goggles from the day they’re born.
The point here is that the “Web 2.0” (with its comment boxes, user ratings and Flash graphics) is where people now look to find a sense of community in their lives. Anyone who knows how to use a computer can carve out a little corner of the web to call home, whether it be on mainstream social networking sites or obscure little forums dedicated to finding the perfect fishing bait.
Online communities offer so many advantages over communities in the “real” world that it should come as no great surprise that we now value them more. Online, I have an almost infinite choice of what type of community I want to be a part of. Poncy artists, deluded scientists, self-serving journalists, tone-deaf musicians, struggling writers, Attention Deficit Disorder suffering videogame-players and urm, sex addicts: I could hang out with them all within the space of an hour if I wanted to (and hey, maybe I do, but the glorious thing is I can do so anonymously). Or if I prefer I could just spy on what these communities say to each other without having to make any effort to get involved. And when I feel like I’ve had my fill, I can abandon them and move onto whatever else I want with no repercussions or sense of guilt.
What can real-life communities offer? They’re hard work, unreliable, dangerous, and unable to offer genuine anonymity. In return you maybe get a short-lived sense of satisfaction from doing something worthy (like, say, reporting someone parked on a double-yellow line to the Head of your local Neighbourhood Watch) but the feeling of triumph is always fleeting.
Now go and ask an EvE player who’s a member of KenZoku how they feel about being a member of one of the most imfamous corporations in a vast online galaxy, and you’ll be left in no doubt of the powerful feelings of ownership, pride and community that can exist within an entirely virtual online space.
I don’t want to be misunderstood. It’s vitally important that we’re able to look each other in the eye for some of our conversations, and especially crucial (if only to ensure the survival of our species) that we’re able to reach out and touch each other. Even I’m not nerdy enough to suggest that we should be willing the Internet to replace all direct human interaction.
What should be replaced is the ludicrous idea that ‘community spirit’ can somehow be artificially engineered. Does anyone truly believe that citizenship tests for immigrants or nationalism lessons for kids could make any kind of significant impact on how people feel about where they live? Unfortunately for our politicians (who have already lost vast amounts of their power to the web), the rigid ideals and values of a nation state simply cannot compete with a wonderful Internet playground where it only takes a few clicks to find a community with which you genuinely identify.
Our community spirit is alive and well, it just moved to a nicer part of town where we like the neighbours better. For all the talk of “Broken Britain”, we’re more community minded than we’ve ever been- it’s simply a community that technophobes don’t recognise. We now have the amazing luxury of being a part of multiple international communities simultaneously, and thanks to the “I met you once so now I’ll stalk you forever” nature of Facebook, they're far more likely to endure than the 50s knitting club at the Town Hall ever was.
Look at that: I think I'm actually excited about what the next decade will bring. Hope you all have a happy 2010.
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