BP 02:

This is about things learned about social community through Bullamanka-Pinheads. These observations are relevant to more sophisticated social environments, such as Facebook and to a lesser extent LinkedIn.

1. One person’s signal is another person’s noise. Reference: Signal-to-Noise Ratio. The reverse is also true. Conversations that went on for months exploring intricate details of the chemistry of lime mortars were not always of interest to timber framers and slate roofers.

2. Filters are extremely important. One problem with a listserv is that it is difficult to pay attention and at the same time filter noise. People who had a problem with noise either learned to filter by skipping past correspondents they found irritating, or they got bored and moved on. Sometimes they freaked and made a lot of noise themselves, then exploded or made whatever kind of mess they could.

3. There was a clear distinction between the online community and real life (RL). There were also lurkers, people who read but never wrote. It was like a play on a stage, where there was an unseen audience whose members would only reveal themselves when you went out into the back alley, then suddenly someone says, “Oh, you are the one that was talking about restoration of house trailers. You know my uncle…“ and twenty minutes later we are talking about our collections of antique screwdrivers and how to use them. Or the few times we had a party, like the time when Christopher invited anyone who would show up to go together to see Prairie Home Companion, then return to his apartment for a soiree. Or the fine BBQ gathering at Mary’s place in NJ.

4. People of shared interests may connect over wide geographic areas, but at the same time be either remote in their geographic isolation (maybe sitting in fire towers for months at a time), or else remote from the predominant interests of their local communities. Online community helps people to not feel isolated and alone in their lives. It helps people to feel that they belong.

5. When someone posts a message within an online social context, they like to be acknowledged. BP did not, as with Facebook, have LIKE, WOW or LAUGH buttons. Monitoring and cultivation of the community meant that the correspondents had an obligation to write a response. If a correspondent made a comment and nobody answered, then it was the role of the monitor to acknowledge that the correspondent had spoken.

6. An online social group needs rules in order to maintain civil order. Without stated rules, the correspondents tend to make up for themselves what they think to be the rules, then get bent out of shape when others do not follow their rules. One rule within BP was that we were not to be critical of the spelling, grammar, or other writing idiosyncrasies of others. Any correspondent who had an aversion to poor writing skills (an academic floor mat here and there) was free to leave.

7. Individual correspondents over time take on distinct roles within the community. These are not assigned roles, but come about through an organic process of differentiation one from another. The correspondent who could not write a sentence without two F words in it took up that territory, and everyone else learned to stand back and appreciate their redeeming qualities.

8. It was important for a moderator to stretch the boundaries either in style or content in such a manner that the more timid correspondents felt comfortable that they could not do anything quite as bad as what they had just read. Some learned to let their freak flags fly.

9. The economy of the social community is based on attention. It is kind of like one of the basic rules of writing a story, to not be boring. To not lose the attention of the reader. To convey something of interest and draw the correspondent into reading further. Better yet, to inspire them to assemble their own response. We were all of us sharing our story, and together building a much larger story.

10. Fish are attracted to habitat; correspondents are attracted to something happening. For a moderator, the cultivation of community is to keep having a happening. Hemingway would take the opportunity to kill off a character -- we were never that desperate, but things did happen to keep us all on our toes. When the daughter of one correspondent nearly drowned in a lake at summer camp, the list went into freak-out mode.

11. Put out fires. Correspondents come from different backgrounds and experiences. At one point on the anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire I thoughtlessly said that I would light a candle in memory. We have stinky candles in our house, and I do look for solemn or other occasions to burn them. I like aromatherapy. One correspondent had family ancestors that had perished in the fire. That turned into an incredible fiasco, burned a whole bunch of people on the list, and permanently scarred a few relationships as a result.

12. Play games with each other, and I don’t mean the kind of games on Facebook that are exploited by outside interests. I mean actual playing -- write like a 17^th c pirate today, or all this week. Or substitute an S for every F and an F for every S. This was all incredibly silly and at times stupid, but it also created a sense of communal context, of relationships. When a serious question was asked, a correspondent would have a context in which to measure the validity of the information that they were receiving. This is unlike with a more open system or group, such as a LinkedIn group with 2,600 correspondents. And when a correspondent inquires as to the proper way to blow their nose when visiting the Galapagos Islands, they are not suddenly inundated with advertising from salesmen (The Drummoney Brothers Nose Flute corporation has the very best solution and I’d be happy to send you a link to our catalog) and purchase pressure, or hit up with homeopathic recipes for blueberry vinegar by the misinformed but well meaning.

13. Business did occur between correspondents. When opportunities arose, the community could gather to form “dream teams” to meet the needs of specific histo-presto projects. It was not always so elaborate; at times it was as simple as to know who to refer to when someone asked who could repair their wood windows in Maine.

14. A few correspondents took on alter egos. My nom was Shaman. There was Pyrate. There was Twybil. In a way we explored what it means to invent ourselves, and in inventing ourselves we also in time came to know ourselves for what we had invented. There used to be that simple AI computer program called Eliza that was based on an algorithm that if you asked it a question then it would answer, and it would feel like you were talking with an actual person. With BP at times we had hive panics in which we questioned whether humans were answering our messages.

15. Health of the community is the responsibility of a moderator as cultivator to provide guidance and leadership. There is such a phenomenon as collective psychosis, which is much more real and direct than any collective unconscious. Collective psychosis is based on the reality that to some degree everyone is psychotic. Existence is irrational, and often as a community we have trouble dealing with it, as if everyone ate the ergot-tainted bread on last Wednesday.

16. A disadvantage of open systems is that there can be players who work against the principles of communitarian sharing and take advantage of opportunities to enhance their own individual interests. In these circumstances trust in the entire community is eroded. As a community within BP these incidents tended to be brought to light by an aggregate of correspondents, then shifted back-channel to the moderator and list owners -- there were several list owners -- and an effort was made for moderation actions to be taken elsewhere than on the list.

17. As with Stewart Brand’s wheels within wheels, the correspondents on BP were moving at light speed in the connectivity of a virtual preservation-oriented community, way before the development of Facebook, LinkedIn or other online channels. Quite a few of them continue to do so today, and they know each other.

04/07/2020 Ken Follett