Current mood:	contemplative
Entry tags:	analysis, meta

The Internet and Social Networks: the Group Dynamics of Online Interaction
In the past several weeks and months, I have become increasingly aware of spreading perceptions of cliquishness and division, particularly within online community environments. This sort of thing isn't new, not by any means: I've seen it before, and I fully expect to see it again. It's part and parcel of any community interaction, and shows up time and again online. It's the reason that fandoms -- or rather, the social circles that define any particular fandom -- go through cycles of "wank" and accusations of "BNF-dom;" but moreover, it's the reason that fandom of any sort exists in the first place.

It's not always an accurate perception, however-- or at least not accurate in the way that most people seem to assume, and that's where things get complex and tricky.

I've been meaning to make a post like this for some time, actually. I've read with interest the_croupier's article on milliways_bar as online community: part one, part two, and part three. I've talked to a number of people in differing circles, on repeated occasions. As it happens, however, I've been thinking rather a lot about the topic of late, and so now's as good a time as any to speak my piece.

Humans are social creatures. As Glen Bateman, that bald-headed old sociologist, puts it in Stephen King's The Stand:

Shall I tell you what sociology teaches us about the human race? I'll give it to you in a nutshell. Show me a man or woman alone and I'll show you a saint. Give me two and they'll fall in love. Give me three and they'll invent that charming thing we call 'society.'

Now, I don't think it's quite as simple as a fictional character would have it be, but there's some validity to the statement nonetheless. Everyone -- man, woman, or child -- has had some experience with being alone, and has disliked it. Infants cry if they feel abandoned, and such crying can be soothed only by human touch and human company. References equating being alone with being lonely, with extreme negativity and undesirability, persist through popular culture to such a degree that aphorisms like "one is the loneliest number" are immortalized in story and song. Ostracism is regarded not unlike a curse; the concept of "shunning" in sociocultural groups as a method of punishment to encourage and even enforce proper behavior is no idle threat, and its usage can be seen in such contexts as religious excommunication or being "sent to Coventry." To be outcast, or forced outside of one's caste or social class, is a harsh punishment, and sometimes a deadly one.

Yes, I said "deadly." It's only logical. Human survival depends on social interaction and the ability to function within social groups. In the simplest sense, the perpetuation of the species requires interaction between two individuals to produce a third. In a larger sense, it's cooperation between multiple individuals that allows for survival through shared labor-- building homes, producing and obtaining food and clothing, caring for the sick or indigent, defending the group against outside influences such as wild animals-- or wild people whose "ungoverned" influence might destroy the community. I could talk for some time on how social construct analysis can be applied to divisions of race, gender, economic, and geopolitical status, but that's not the purpose of this post.

Therefore, with all this in mind, let's look at social interactions in the context of the Internet and online communities.

Back in the 1950s, British anthropologists Barnes and Bott came up with the concept of "social networks" to describe ties between groups of individuals that were not limited by more traditional linkages of kinship, geography, or economic class. They observed that such networks did not always conform to accepted standards of what defined "community" (Berkman 2000).

We all classify ourselves along social divides. Think of how you'd describe yourself on a census form or to another person: I'm male/female/gender-neutral; black/white/Latino/Chicano/Maori/Native American/Asian; unschooled/in high school/college-educated; conservative/liberal/independent/apathetic; American/Latvian/Chinese/Mexican/Canadian; pagan/Christian/Muslim/Buddhist/Jewish/freethinker....

You get the idea.

Likewise, many of the common definitions are easily perceived or otherwise available from the context in which one operates: at school, at work, at church (or not)-- in all of these places and all of these ways, the social classification process has often taken place even before one says hello.

In this sense, the Internet is the great equalizer among social strata. To be part of an Internet social group, what is required is simply that one have interest, access to the Internet environment -- whether privately purchased or shared through public resources such as libraries -- and that one have enough technological knowledge to locate a group online. This set of shared characteristics automatically defines "Internet users" into a large social group of their own. In addition, the anonymity that comes from having control over one's own information and the presentation of one's personal image often helps an individual to overcome feelings of shyness and isolation that exist due to they way they are perceived offline, further broadening the social network and allowing a person to break through externally divisive social barriers.

The combination of these phenomena is often taken to mean that on the Internet, everyone is absolutely and completely equal in all ways.

Right?

Wrong.

The online community is still just that: a community. Like any community, like any social group, there are rules -- either explicitly stated or which come to be generally understood through group interaction. For example, in a medium where one presents one's self through text, the text itself becomes a representation of the individual -- what language is used (English/Spanish/Russian, formal/casual/l33t, so forth and so on), how it's used, whether language is argumentative or not, whether rules of grammar are obeyed -- all sorts of many and varied elements that together comprise a standard of behavior for the members of the community itself, and by which members of the community judge and are judged.

Perhaps it's not "fair," but it's a natural and realistic part of any group dynamic. People need context that allows them to relate to others, and will create that context through ongoing experience and general consensus.

In similar fashion, any group of large size will naturally develop smaller subgroups through the identification of more specific shared interests. To use as an example the very community that this post is directed to, the friendslist phenomenon on the community site LiveJournal allows for the formation of social bonds between those who identify themselves and are identified in turn as part of a specified readership.

This is called "social cohesion," in which connectedness and interaction between groups or between members of a particular group leads to the lack of latent conflict and the presence of "social capital," or shared resources like reciprocal trust that helps contribute to collective action of some sort (Kawachi, 2000).

Put more simply, this is what happens when people find something in common. Connections form, and people spend time with those with whom they have formed these social bonds: their colleagues or their friends, sometimes even both. It's a natural process, and one that takes time, and it happens in online communities in the same way that it happens anywhere else.

And, as with anywhere else, difficulty arises when others are excluded from such subgroups... or when they perceive themselves to be.

On the Internet it is often possible to observe the interactions of a particular subgroup without revealing one's own observation. In fact, the phenomenon of "lurking" is widely accepted as a way to learn about a group's environment before stepping forward to take part in it-- whether that environment be a mailing list, a fandom's shared Livejournal community, or a public community of expressed opinions such as Slashdot. For some, lurking becomes a comfortable way of interaction, a way to participate vicariously in a social group without having to expend the time, energy or resources to be active within the group itself. (This could be likened to reading People magazine or watching televised sports events.)

The problem, however, comes when the observer wishes to participate in a group and yet never steps forward at all.

Unlike offline environments, in the online community there are no visual cues and subtle indications of body language to point out an individual's presence. The peculiarly broad inclusiveness of online groups that are open to those who have a shared interest is therefore by nature limited to those who express that interest.

This is by definition a difficult situation for introverted and shy persons, and perhaps especially for those who are used to a lack of acceptance in offline environments. Far too often, such individuals will view the online group dynamic through the lens of offline experience, and will assume that lack of overt inclusion equates to specific exclusion. Far too often, that's not the case at all, but the members of the "exclusive" group are simply never aware of the interest of the "outsider" in the first place, and thus continue to spend their stock of social capital (such as time allotted for some sort of interaction on any given day) with those members of the group of whom they are aware.

I'm not so naive as to say that there is never exclusion in or from an online group. There is -- consider the phenomenon and response to "trolling," for example -- but I do believe that it's often more a case of miscommunication, or of communication's lack.

What's the solution? That, I wish I knew. Awareness of any situation has the potential to improve the situation, that I believe; outreach does, as well. Part of the purpose of this post is an attempt to offer and improve both for anyone reading. I hope it does.

But it's important to remember that an outstretched hand can reach only so far: at the end of the day, someone has to be willing to reach back.

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Berkman, Lisa, et.al. "Social Integration, Social Networks, Social Support, and Health." Social Epidemiology. Oxford University Press: New York, 2000. 137-173.

Kawachi, Ichiro, and Lisa Berkman. "Social Cohesion, Social Capital, and Health." Social Epidemiology. Oxford University Press: New York, 2000. 174-190.