Category Archives: Social Media

Google +1 Goes Critical, But Not in a Good Way

First published October 6, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

I was in Minneapolis’ Mall of America and happened to wander by the new Microsoft store. The layout, the look and the feel were a near-exact clone of the very popular Apple Stores, one of which just happened to be directly across the concourse. Here, in the largest mall in the world, I had the opportunity to compare and contrast the physical embodiments of two of the most ubiquitous brands in the world.

If not for the several floor staffers in the Microsoft store, it would have been almost empty. Only one person was wandering through the aisles showcasing the latest from Redmond, significantly outnumbered by the two staffers glued to his side, as well as two more looking on over the potential buyer’s shoulder — and still one more, whom I took to be the manager, overseeing the scene from a more discreet distance.

I then swiveled 180 degrees and saw how the Apple store stacked up against the Microsoft challenger. To be fair, the store wasn’t nearly as busy as most locations I’ve been to, but even a conservative estimate would put the customer count at 15 to 20 times the sole Microsoft customer.

This brought to my mind the importance of critical mass. We humans are notoriously impressionable — especially so when being asked to adopt new things. On the average, we have more in common with sheep (or lemmings) than “lone” wolves. So critical mass becomes well, critical in determining the success of new things.  It’s called social proof, and it makes or breaks markets. All things being equal, I’m going to choose Apple over Microsoft just because I have proof than other people have done the same. Then, this movement becomes self-perpetuating. The more people who follow the herd, the more that others want to join it. It’s how we’re wired, and all the Kinect games in the world won’t be enough to fight it.

Critical mass is also vital in social networks. In fact, the concept is central to the health and continued viability of any online community. When the momentum drops, the community is on its way to being a ghost town. When’s the last time you logged onto MySpace? Or Friendster? Or, unless you live in Brazil, Orkut?

Which brings me to Google’s+1. Just a few weeks ago, Rob Garner, one of my fellow Search Insiders, was pondering what Google’s new social offering might do for search.  Millions signed onto Google’s service as soon as it went public. Critical mass seemed well on its way. If the trends held up, this could change everything.

And then it died.

It’s been 2 weeks since I received a Google+1 invite, and that came from a Google employee. There has been no reason to check my +1 circles. I really haven’t given it a thought prior to writing this column. Each and every day, I receive one or two LinkedIn invites in my inbox. I generally receive 4 to 5 Facebook invitations a week. But Google+1? Crickets.

Apparently the only ones using +1 are Google employees who are forced to if they want their bonus, wannabe programmers from India and journalists who are researching the Google+1 obituary they’re writing.

The rapid demise of Google+1 is not new in the world of social media. Other networks have followed a similar path into oblivion, although perhaps not with the same speed. It’s the dilemma of social networks, managing to get beyond the predictable burst of the early adopters and cross the chasm to mainstream usage. To date, Facebook, LinkedIn and perhaps Twitter are the only ones to have managed the chasm crossing successfully. Google+1 sputtered before it even got to the precipice.

What this means is that Google doesn’t have the critical mass of social usage to provide a signal to noise ratio clean enough to impact search rankings. Both the reach and frequency of usage is simply not high enough to make a credible social graph. Eric Schmidt tried to say that there was more than enough online social activity for everyone, but it seems we simply don’t have the patience or free time to maintain multiple social destinations. We’ll kick the tires of a newcomer, but unless it offers something substantially better than the competition, we won’t come back with any regularity.

Google desperately needed a win with +1. But based on current traffic, it seems doomed.

Just like that Microsoft store stuck across the concourse from Apple.

Each Day is a Gift

First published June 30, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

I’m struggling with the onslaught of time. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m turning 50 in a few weeks. Maybe it’s that I attended the funeral of an old business colleague, friend and mentor who unfortunately was taken away much too early (at 66) due to Alzheimer’s. Or maybe it’s that my oldest daughter is graduating high school this week. Whatever the reason, I just want everything to slow down a little.

At the funeral, which was in a Baptist church, the pastor comforted the congregation by telling them that this life is really a trial run for the after life. The days we spend in our corporal form are “pointless… a cruel joke” with “little meaning.” He used the analogy of a dragonfly, which lives two lives, one in a larval stage as a nymph buried at the bottom of a slough (presumably analogous to our earthly stint) and the other as the aerobatic insect we’re familiar with.  He was a little shaky on his biology, but I got the point. I just don’t happen to agree with it.

I have a significantly different view of things. I think the days we spend here, each and every one of them, are precious beyond compare.  In fact, one of our company’s core values enshrines this: “Each day is a gift.” One of our staff added a fitting tag: “that’s why we call it the present.” If you believe in an afterlife, that’s fine. But don’t let that belief lift the burden from your shoulders of living each and every day to its fullest. It’s all too easy to let each precious 24-hour parcel slip away, as we get caught up in the day-to-day.

I also don’t believe our lives are pointless. Far from it. Our lives here are the whole point. At the start of each day, you’re given the chance to make a difference, to improve the world just a little bit. In Canada, the average life span of a male at birth is 78.3 years. That means, if I hit the average, in my life I’ll have 28, 579 chances to do something meaningful in my time here on earth.  I’ve already used about two thirds of those chances with questionable outcomes, but statistically speaking, I still have a little over 10,000 in my account. That, I believe, is a number I should pay close attention to, because each day, that balance declines by one.

Further, I believe that at this point in history, we can do more with each and every day than we ever could before. One person, now more than ever, can mobilize a significant force almost instantly, thanks to technology.  In last week’s column, I introduced a moral dilemma: the use of social media in rounding up the Vancouver rioters. Were we participating in the campaign out of a sense of justice or a need for revenge? Did our motivation really matter? Many of you weighed in with your opinions, which split on both sides of the question.

I’m not going to reopen the question of whether it was right or wrong. What I wanted to focus on, in light of this week’s topic, is the sheer velocity and power of the medium. Whether it was justice or revenge, the fact was that technology made the entire thing possible.

Technology puts tremendous potential power into the hands of every person, each and every day. It’s our choice how we use that power. The fact that you are reading my thoughts and opinions right now, as I sit in my office in British Columbia and you’re wherever you are, somewhere in the world, is thanks solely to technology. Without it, I wouldn’t have the opportunity.

So, how do we use that power? How did you use technology today to make a difference?  Does the fact that the five most popular Twitter users are, in order: Lady Gaga, Justin Bieber, Barack Obama, Britney Spears and Katy Perry worry you? Should it? Should we be concerned that the Dalai Lama’s website is only the 122,444th most popular site in the world and to this point, he hasn’t seen fit to tweet? Maybe it’s because he only has a little over 2,000 followers. Meanwhile, Kim Kardashian is getting close to top 1000 traffic status for her website (according to Alexa) and she’s just after Katy Perry on the Twitter popularity scale with over 8 million followers. No offense to Ms. Kardashian, but I find it troubling that she has 4000 times the online audience of his Holiness.

The awesome reality is that this day, today, you and I have something no previous generation could possible imagine: access to the accumulated knowledge of mankind, the ability to connect with other minds around the world and a voice with which to say something meaningful. Today, you have an opportunity to do something with that gift. And, if you’re busy today, you’ll have tomorrow.

How could all that possibly be “pointless”?

The Vancouver Riot Social Media Backlash: Justice or Revenge?

First published June 23, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

In the 25 years I’ve lived here, I’ve never had to say this — indeed, I never believed I would ever say this — but last Wednesday, I was ashamed to say I live in British Columbia. I wasn’t the only one. I’m guessing the vast majority of the other 4.5 million people that call this Canadian province home felt the same way. In fact, the only people not feeling that way were the idiotic jerks that caused our collective shame. They were the ones using the Canuck’s loss to Boston in the Stanley Cup final as an excuse to wreak havoc on downtown Vancouver.

“You can’t cure stupid.”

We went into the night holding our collective breathe, hoping the sad scenario of the 1994 riot, after a similar Game 7 loss to the New York Rangers, would not repeat itself. The Olympics had given us hope that we could be placed on a world stage without burning it to the ground. But, as one police spokesperson said, “You can’t cure stupid!” Sadly, it proved to be true. B.C. is a breathtakingly beautiful corner of the world, but we definitely have our quota of stupid people, and last Wednesday, they all came onto the streets of Vancouver.

You’ve probably seen news footage of the riot and, if you were disgusted, I get it. I was too. But there’s another part of the story that also has to be told. To be honest, I’m not sure if it’s a happy ending or an even sadder one. I’d like to hear what you think, but bear with me for another minute or so.

Throw the Face”Book” at them

Even though it appeared that we had learned nothing in the 17 years since the last riot, there was one significant difference between 1994 and last week’s debacle. This year, it went viral. Much of the mayhem was captured by photo or video. Soon, it was posted online. And that’s when something surprising happened. For most of our history as social animals, there is not much we can do when some of our herd runs amok. There are reams of research on the psychology of mobs, but one of the common themes is a feeling of invincibility that comes from being part of a faceless, mindless crowd bent on destruction. Most times, there is no response or retribution for individual perpetrators of mob violence. They get off scot free. But not this time. The mob that trashed Vancouver may have been mindless, but they certainly weren’t faceless.

The next morning, a Facebook page was started by the Vancouver police. They asked anyone with photos or videos of criminals to post them for identification. Within a few hours, the page had captured over 50,000 “likes.” Within a few days, the police had over a million pictures and 1000 hours of video uploaded. As people were recognized, they were tagged so police could follow up with charges. The Insurance Corporation of BC offered police use of their facial detection software and crooner Michael Buble, who also hails from Vancouver, even launched a newspaper campaign asking for people to turn the guilty in through social media.

Social Justice or Virtual Vigilantes?

On hearing that, I felt that finally, justice was being served. We, the often-voiceless majority of law-abiding citizens, could do our part to right the wrongs. But, were we really interested in justice, or did we just want revenge? Is there any difference between the two? One blogger, Dave.ca, said “report the rioters out of civic duty..or revenge..either is fine.” Is it? If we are holding onto moral high ground, should we rally and become a virtual “lynch” mob? It’s brand-new territory to chart, and I’m personally unsure about which is the right path to take.

Let me give you one example. One of the rioters is a provincial water polo athlete and he was soon identified online. His name was made public. His father is a doctor. Since his son’s crime was made public, the father has had to suspend his practice and the family has had to move out of their home. Other exposed rioters have been subjected to violent threats and the comment strings are riddled with utterings that are in contention with the riot itself for sheer stupidity.

When I started this column, I was convinced it was going to be a bad news, good news story, where social media would play the role of the redeemer. As I did further research on the aftermath, it seems that it’s a bad news, good news, possibly worse news story.

Much as I’d like to think differently, I’m not sure mob rule, whether it’s pursuing mindless violence, or mindless revenge, can ever be a good thing. Social media has a way of exposing all that is human, at scale, and at velocity — warts and all. How do we handle this new accountability, this new immediate transparency into the dark things we’ve always kept tucked away?

Two Sides of Social: Connecting or Disrespecting

First published May 19, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

Apparently I opened a can of worms in my last column. I was talking about real-time tweeting during the Search Insider Summit, lead largely by Rob Griffin, who added additional comments after the column ran.  The collective force of the Search Insider audience jumped on Rob with a pretty unanimous condemnation of tweeting during live events. Some of the snippets:

“We are not the multitaskers we’d like to think we are. If you’re tweeting instead of listening, you may as well not be there.” – David Lott

“Save the tweets for the birds. Disrespectful is not a strong enough word.” – Paula Lynn

“Encouraging the attendees to clutch their phones, feverishly pecking out the next great tweet while viable information is being presented…is yet another segmentation of our society!” – Catherine Maino

“I teach at a university – and I ban phones in the classroom. Anyone who is typing [even 140 characters] is not listening to what is being said” – Alan Charlesworth

I’m going to steer clear of the disrespect minefield, and dig a little deeper into three of the themes introduced in these comments: multitasking, segmentation of society and the visual feedback to the presenter. I think the raw nerve struck here speaks to something foundational in how we’re reimaging social connection.

First of all, David Lott is right. We’re not the multitaskers we like to think we are. Nobody is. Attentional focus is one-mindedl we can’t pay attention to two things at once. So the brain switches back and forth. This not only impacts our tweeter, but the distraction and lack of focus can spread to the entire audience. Our language processing modules, although a wonder of evolutionary design (thank youm Noam Chomsky), are products of a one-track mind. We can’t compose our pithy tweets and focus on the message of the speaker at the same time. So, as we tweet, we temporarily “tune out” the speaker, creating a task switch in the mind. Each one of these “switches” can fragment our attention. The same is true for the rest of the audience. As we are distracted by the Twitter commentary, reading the latest “Twitticism,” we have to relegate the poor schmuck on stage to background processing.

Yes, these switches are fast and, to us, almost unnoticeable, but they do happen. Nick Carr (“The Shallows”) and others worry that this new environment of constant distraction could be turning us into a society of addle-minded wool-gatherers.

But what about  Maino’s concern about the segmentation of our society? Are we being divided into the technologically elite and Luddite plebes? Does the divide run across generational lines? Possibly. Even probably.  But I think there’s something more visceral in her protest. Has technology driven a dividing wedge in our society to the point where it’s no longer possible to gather a 100 or so souls in the same room for an hour to share a common social experience? Why can’t we  resist the urge to check emails, Facebook updates, tweets or other digital distractions? In a new world of mass collaboration and creation of content, we seem to be losing the ability to digest the message of the person standing right in front of us.

Finally, we have the firsthand experience of Charlesworth, who has felt the pain of standing in front of a digitally distracted crowd. As a person who often presents in public, I share this pain. The visual feedback speakers get is important for their own self-confidence. I’ve discovered that an audience’s concept of how to show respect to the speaker varies from culture to culture. I’ve found audiences in Northern Europe to be generally more attentive than North American audiences, who often peck away at some type of keyboard.

Even within the U.S., there are regional differences. The Midwest is more polite, the East Coast more distracted, with the West Coast hopelessly connected to a digital umbilical cord (with the worst being the engineering teams in Redmond and Mountainview, who seem unable to communicate at any level without a keyboard in front of them).

Perhaps the most disconcerting experience I had was in China, where in addition to being simultaneously translated, I was taken aback when several members of the audience started talking on their mobile phones in the middle of my presentation. If not for the fact that they did this to the other presenters as well, I would have taken it personally.

Thank goodness Twitter wasn’t around then.

New Circles of Intimacy: Presenting in the Social Sphere

First published May 12, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

The recent Search Insider Summit provided me with a real-world example of how our world is connecting in new ways.

First, let me set the stage. In the conference room on Captiva Island, we had the actual attendees, usually averaging between 85 and 120 people. But the typical one-way exchange of information in most presentations was made a little less asymmetrical thanks to Twitter. The folks at MediaPost put a screen next to the stage where there was a live stream of Tweets with the #mpsis hashtag, giving us a real-time social commentary on what was happening at the front of the room. The vast majority of tweets came from people in the room (and the vast majority of these came from Rob Griffin – @telerob – who gained notoriety as the Joan Rivers of the summit for his acerbic commentary).

The addition of real-time tweet monitoring is fairly common at conferences now, but feedback seems to be mixed. I think speakers are fairly unanimous in detesting it (it can be incredibly distracting). That said, Craig Danuloff threw caution to the wind and pulled off the somewhat magical feat of presenting in person at the same time as he was tweeting tidbits from his presentation, with the help of an accomplice. But what about the audience? Does a social critique help or hinder a listener’s ability to get the most from the message being presented?

To answer that question, I did a little digging into the psychology of cheering and heckling and their impact on the dynamics of an audience. It’s the closest analogy I could think of.

Both ends of the audience participation spectrum, cheering and jeering, come from the same psychological need: to be part of something bigger than our selves. We cheer in recognition of talent, certainly, but just as often, we cheer because we want to be identified with what’s happening up on stage. It’s a “me too” type of emotional response. And these types of participatory experiences tend to go in waves. Cheering is contagious. So, it would seem, are laudatory tweets, based on the degree of retweeting I saw at the conference. It’s a digital way of saying, “I wish I had said that!”

Positive tweets raise the stature of the speaker in the eyes of the audience. The crowd is swayed to align with and respect the speaker’s opinion. The burden of social proof weighs heavily on us, as we’re not really built to go against the flow.

Heckling has a little different foundation, but it also comes from a need for control over the crowd. And it typically comes from a type A personality who is used to being the center of attention and is not comfortable relinquishing that control to another, even when that person has the stage. Heckling is intended to discredit the message of the presenter. It’s the human equivalent to two rams butting heads (and yes, hecklers are more often male) and the audience is asked to make a choice: do they side with the presenter or the challenger? If the challenger wins, the presenter goes down in flames.

This real-time exercise in social dynamics introduced an additional dimension of interest to the Search Insider conference stage. You could see some presenters being lifted in the audience’s opinion on a wave of positive tweets. But the occasional negative tweet introduced uncertainty.

The other dimension that was of interest was how the real-time social interaction took the conference beyond the walls of the South Seas Resort conference center. There were a handful of virtual attendees that appeared to follow the entire conference through the live video feed (including David Szetela, who did have to get off his porch to present on day one) and contributed their thoughts via Twitter. Then there were the inevitable nuggets that went viral. The winner in this category seems to go to Gian Fulgoni from comScore (@gfulgoni) who dropped this retweeted tidbit: LOL. Overheard at SIS: “A Starbucks barista gets more training than the average entry level ad agency employee”

The 1% of News that Matters

First published March 17, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider.

I first heard about the earthquake in Japan from a cab driver in Milwaukee. By the time I got to the airport, it was all over the monitors. And by the time I could find a Wi-Fi connection, the first details were just starting to emerge.

Our society digests news differently now. Electronic media paints news in broad strokes. Digital media offers a never-ending deep dive into the details. In the few days since disaster struck, the Web has already built up a vast repository of information about the Japanese earthquake and tsunami. The Web stretches infinitely to accommodate new content, stretching its digital boundaries as required. The shelf life of broadcast news is much shorter. Time constrains the content. Detail has to be sacrificed for impact.

But on the Web, news is also a participatory experience. News isn’t a broadcast, it’s a conversation, guided by editors and journalists but often veering in unexpected directions as our collective voice hits its stride. We shape the coverage by voicing our opinions, our concerns and, for those who are in the middle of the news, our experiences. The world is smaller, rawer, more visceral, more vital — and, hopefully, more human.

In the convergence of these two shifts in how we digest what happens in the world, there lies something impactful. Traditionally, because news was a shifting canvas where yesterday’s events quickly faded to make room for today’s, we had no choice but to move on to the next story. But now, thanks to the Web, the content remains, if we choose to seek it out. While Japan’s pain is still horribly fresh, more than a year later the traumatic story of Haiti is still unwinding online.

The fact is that 99% of the news you hear nightly won’t really make much of a difference in your life in five years. They’re stories of passing interest, but in the big scheme of things, they’re rather inconsequential. And the things that will make a difference seldom make the news. But, on the Web, the time limitation of being “new” doesn’t artificially constrain what is news. For those who continue to care about Haiti, the information is there, living on in indelible binary bits.

It’s this concept of “caring” about news that is served so well online. Humans tend to react to our surroundings in two distinct ways. We react to the immediate and awesome (in both its negative and positive connotations) simply because we’re wired to notice dramatic and potentially harmful events in our environment. But, if it has no personal impact, we move on with our lives. We’re like a herd of sheep that goes back to its collective grazing after a loud noise startles us in our pasture. For this fleeting level of engagement, broadcast news works exceedingly well. It’s been designed to impact us at this transitory level, hammering us for maximum effect by a parade of violence, negativity and trauma.

But for the 1% of stories that do affect us, that will matter to us in a very personal way in five years, the 30-second sound bite is simply not enough. If news can affect our well-being, the second level of human engagement kicks in. Now, we are hungry for information. We need to dive deep into the details, so we can understand what the personal impact might be.

Consider the difference in how I would react to the news coming out of Japan if, rather than observing it at arm’s length as I did, I had a child who was teaching English as a second language in Sendai, the epicenter of the quake. Think about how I would voraciously devour any information I could find online, trying to determine if my child was safe.

For the 1% of news that does matter to us, online provides us something we never had before. It takes the temporal and archives it at a scale never before possible. Individual slivers of history are frozen in a digital record. It allows us to connect to information that is personally relevant, even long after it qualifies as “news.”

A Search History of TED

First published March 10, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

I always find it interesting to look at a cultural phenomenon through the lens of search. Search provides a fascinating and quantitative look at the growth of interest in a particular topic. Having spent all last week immersed in the cult that is TED (I was at TEDActive in Palm Springs, Calif.) I thought that this was as good a subject as any to analyze.

TED’s Back Story

The TED story, for those of you not familiar with it, is pretty amazing. TED was originally held in Monterey, Calif. in 1984, the brainchild of Richard Saul Wurman and Harry Marks. Some of the content on that first TED stage? The unveiling of the Mac, a rep from Sony demonstrating the compact disc, Benoit Mandelbrot talking about fractals and Marvin Minsky speculating on the possibilities of artificial intelligence. Due to its proximity to Silicon Valley, the conference had a decidedly tech-heavy focus. The first one lost money, and Wurman didn’t attempt another one until 1990. It was then held annually in Monterey.

In 2001, Chris Anderson took over the show and broadened the focus, adopting a more philanthropic approach. Technology still figured prominently on the TED stage, but the conference became an intellectual smorgasbord of content, with a single session known to veer from musicians to world adventurers, scientists to CEOs.

Probably the biggest change in the fortunes of TED, however, came in 2006 when the world was invited to share what happened on the TED stage. The talks were videotaped and made freely available online. And it’s here where our search story begins.

TED:TSI (TED Search Investigation)

If you use Google Insights (as I did), you see something interesting begin to happen in the search activity surrounding TED. Through 2004, 2005 and 2006, most of the search activity for TED was about the conference. There were peaks every February when the conference took place, but other than this, the volumes were pretty consistent. There was little year-over-year growth. TED remained an exclusive club for the intellectually elite. The rest of the world had never heard of it.

In 2006, when the videos were launched, a new trend began. By the end of the year, more people were using search to find the TED talks themselves than to find out about the conference. The gap continued to widen until in 2011, the search popularity of the Talks themselves is almost 3 times as much as query volume for the conference. But volumes for both have seen impressive growth. The conference rode the wave of the popularity of the videos, with query volumes over 10 times the levels seen in 2006. The videos fueled the growth of TED, making it the must see conference of the year.

The Global Mapping of TED

Another interesting trend has been to see how TED has become a global phenomenon. TED talks are most popular in Canada, followed by New Zealand, the U.S. and South Africa. They’ve also shown impressive growth in South Africa, Singapore, Australia and India. And it’s this global popularity that led TED to announce TEDx, in 2009. These are independently organized shows held around the world, with some mentorship and guidance from the TED mother ship. They have been tremendously popular — and now search volumes for TEDx have surpassed queries for the main conference.  Epicenters of the TEDx tidal wave include the Netherlands, Portugal, Finland, India and Argentina.

If we drill down to the U.S., we find the greatest concentration of TEDsters (the official moniker of members of the TED community) in Oregon, Washington and Vermont. Surprisingly, California, where the conference is held, doesn’t even make the list of top TED states. Massachusetts, New York and Hawaii all beat it out. The top 10 TED states are all solidly blue (based on the last presidential election) — except for Montana.

And because Canada is such a TED hotbed (TED has an office in Vancouver) I’m proud to say that my home province of B.C. has perhaps the greatest concentration of TED fans in the world, followed by Manitoba, Alberta (which would be the Canadian equivalent of Montana) and Saskatchewan. According to Google, the TED world capital should be Victoria, B.C, which has the highest concentration of TED-related searches of any city, anywhere. The U.S. Capital? Portland, Ore. For some reason, TEDmania is very much alive and well here in the Pacific Northwest.

TED has legs!

Finally, you may ask if the wave of TED popularity is sustainable. I had this very conversation last week with another TEDster in Palm Springs. If you look at the growth of all search volumes so far in 2011, I would say the TED wave has barely begun. Volumes have skyrocketed this year in every category I looked at.  If you compare the query volume graphs to a typical S-shaped adoption curve, you would conclude that TED is just beginning a massive growth spurt.  Get used to hearing about TED, because that will be happening a lot in the future — especially if you’re visiting Victoria or Portland.

The Nobler Side of Social Media: Voices in a Choir

First published March 3, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

Last week, I took social media to task for making us less social. This week, I’m in Palm Springs for TED Active — and on day one, saw three very real examples of how the Internet is also connecting us in ways we never imagined before. They provided a compelling counterpoint to my original argument.

Eric Whitacre is a composer and conductor. In “Lux Aurumque (Light and Gold)” he conducts a choir singing his original composition. The choir, 185 strong, never sang together. They never met each other. They live in 12 different countries. Whitacre posted a video of himself conducting the piece, and every one of those 185 members of the choir submitted their individual parts through YouTube. The 247 separate tracks were combined into a rather amazing work that has been seen almost 2 million times. One of the contributors lived in a cabin in the remote Alaskan wilderness, 400 miles from the nearest town. Her satellite link was her only connection to the world.

The Johnny Cash Project is an equally amazing collaborative effort. Aaron Koblin and Chris Milk took archival film footage of Johnny Cash, dissected it frame by frame, and asked artists from around the world to redraw each frame. The contributions were stitched back together with Cash’s song, “Ain’t No Grave” as the soundtrack. The result is mesmerizing.

But perhaps the must stunning example of digital collaboration came not from art, but the very real world of the Middle East. Wadah Kanfar, the chief of Al-Jazeera, told us how the voices of many, amplified through technology, are bringing democracy and new hope to Egypt, Tunisia and Libya.

These examples speak of something much broader and powerful than just the typical applications of social media. And, like social media’s less attractive side, the impact of these new connections on society is yet to be determined. There is a social experiment being conducted in real time — but the results will only be fully realized through the lens of hindsight. Can true democracy be established in a place like Libya, even with the power of connection? Time alone will tell.

The new technology of connection releases things that are deeply human: the need to be part of the greater whole (for example, the choir member from Alaska); the need to contribute something of ourselves to the world (for example, the Johnny Cash Project); and the need for fairness and justice (as in the protests in the Middle East). In the last example, these connections illuminate the human condition in the darkest corners of the world and force accountability. Since the beginning of time, unfairness in the tribe has been punished. The difference now is that our human tribe extends around the world.

Kanfar told an amazing story that unfolded during the height of one of the protests. The demonstrators pleaded with Al-Jazeera to keep the cameras rolling through the night. “If you stop, we’re lost. But as long as you keep showing what’s happening, we have hope.”

Perhaps the true paradox of social media is not that we’re becoming less social, but that we’re becoming social in different ways. As we spend less time in our flesh and blood engagements, we spend more time establishing connections that were impossible before. In the ’70s, Mark Granovetter found that our social networks are composed of two distinct types of linkages, which he called strong and weak ties. The strong ties are the family and friends bonds that generally require both proximity and significant time together. The weak ties are the extended bonds that we might call acquaintances. As Granovetter found, it’s the weak ties that carry the surprising power of a community, especially when they’re mobilized for a common purpose. We rely on weak ties for referrals, favors and job offers. They extend beyond our immediate circle and provide important social capital when required.

Perhaps social media has had a negative impact on our strong ties, as I alluded to in my last column. But, as I was reminded today, it has dramatically increased our ability to form weak ties that align to concepts, interests and causes. And don’t let the name “weak ties” fool you. When they’re synchronized, they can be tremendously powerful. You might call them the harmonized voices of a global choir.

 

The Paradox of Social Media: The More Social It Gets, The Less Social We Become

First published February 24, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

I have teenage daughters. At least, I assume they’re still my daughters. They hang around our house and eat our food. But, to be honest, it’s been a while since we identified ourselves to each other. Between Angry Birds, SMS and Facebook, there’s precious little actual conversing going on in the Hotchkiss household. I barely recognize their faces, lit up as they are by the cool blue digital light of an iPhone screen. I assume that, at times, there’s a living being at the other end of their multi-texting, but I’m not really sure.

Yesterday, I overheard this in our lunch room: “I went for dinner the other night but have no idea how it was. Between tweeting my location, updating my status and posting a review to Yelp, I never actually ate anything.”

I’m guessing this comment was made in jest, but you never know. I remember one after-conference party held under the bridge in Sydney’s magnificent harbor, watching one very well-known search guru tweet his way through the entire evening. I don’t think he even noticed the Opera House on the other side of the bay. He was so busy tweeting his experience; he overlooked the actual “experiencing” part.

It seems to me that the more we engage in social media, the less social we actually become. The world in front of our noses is increasing being obstructed by one type of screen or another. The more we live in our new digital communities, the less we live in our real-life, flesh and blood ones. I can’t remember my neighbor’s name, but I can track the minute-by-minute location of people I’ve never met and probably never will. And by the way, congats on becoming Mayor of the Beans n’ Buns coffee shop on the corner of “LOL” and “OMG” in a city I’ll never set foot in. I’m not sure why that’s important to me, but all the “in” people assure me it is.

Humans were built to be social, but I’m not sure we were designed for social media. For one thing, research has proven that multitasking is a myth. We can’t do it. Our kids can’t do it. Nobody can do it. Much as we think we’re keeping all our digital balls in the air, eyes darting back and forth from screen to screen, it’s all a self-perpetuated ruse. Attention was designed to work with a single focus. You can switch it from target to target, but you can’t split it. If you try, you’ll just end up doing everything poorly.

Secondly, we’re built to communicate with the person in front of our nose. We pick up the vast majority of a conversation through body language and visual cues. Try as technology might, there’s just no way a virtual experience can match the bandwidth or depth of engagement you’ll find in a real face-to-face conversation. Yet, we continually pass up the opportunity to have these, opting instead to stare at a little screen and text our thumbs off.

As we spend more time with our digital connections, it’s inevitable that we’ll have less satisfying engagements with the people who share our physical space and time. The disturbing part about that is we may not realize the price we’re paying until it’s too late. Social media has slyly incorporated many elements from online gaming to make using it treacherously addictive. I suspect if we wired up the average teen while she was using Facebook or Foursquare, we’d find a hyperactive pleasure center, bathing her brain in dopamine. We’re forgoing the real pleasures of bonding to pursue an artificially wired short-cut.

The ironic part of all this is that I wrote this column on a four-hour flight, spending most of it staring at some kind of screen or another. The person sitting next to me on the plane? I don’t think we spoke more than four words to each other.

The World Out of Context

First published January 20, 2011 in Mediapost’s Search Insider

Did you see Ricky Gervais hosting the Golden Globes? No? Neither did I. Neither did about 98% of the population of North America, according to the ratings numbers. Yet I would bet in the past week that we all knew about it, and we all talked about it. But we’re basing our judgments, opinions and conversations on something we’ve, at best, read online, heard about through the network (virtual or otherwise) or seen on YouTube. We’re experiencing the simultaneous pleasure and pain of Ricky’s Golden Globe Roast through hearsay and sound bites.

This isn’t an isolated incident. More and more, our view of the world comes after the fact, often filtered through fragments found somewhere online. Most of our experience of the world is out of its original context. This phenomenon isn’t new. Gossip is as old as language. We all love to talk about what’s happened. But the prevalence of digital footprints throws a new spin on this inherently human tendency. The impact of that spin, I’m afraid, is still to be determined.

The World as I Remember It

Memories are funny things. We like to think of them as snapshots of the past, accurately recording where we’ve been. The truth is, memories aren’t all that reliable. We tend to remember high points and low points, removing much of the distracting noise in the middle that makes up the stuff of our everyday lives. It’s like a Reader’s Digest condensed version of our past, except we tend to rewrite the actual content to match our view of the world. And once we rewrite our memories to match our beliefs, we believe them to be true (see Danny Kahneman’s TED talk on remembered happiness). It’s a self-perpetuating cycle that helps maintain the consistency of our worldview, but it’s a far stretch from what actually happened. Even more disturbing, if you’re a fan of the truth, is that we can’t seem to resist tweaking the story to make it more interesting. We love to build memes that take on a life of their own, spreading virally across the social landscape.

I always maintain that technology doesn’t change behaviors; it allows behaviors to change. Technology can’t force us down a road we don’t want to go. This drive to tweak little tidbits of the past is something baked into the human psyche. But the vast tableau we now have available to share it on is something quite new. “Going viral” now raises gossip to a whole new level.  Just ask a dorky little kid that goes by BeenerKeeKee 19952 online. His strangely compelling lip syncs to popular songs have turned him into an instant celebrity. His cover of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” has garnered close to 30 million views on YouTube, closing in on the popularity of the original video. He’s become so popular that 50 Cent popped into his bedroom to do a cameo recently.  But we know nothing of the kid behind the webcam. We don’t know the context of his life. We don’t know if he is bullied at school, has a life outside his bedroom or is good at baseball. All we know is what we can see in three minutes and 48 seconds.

Fool’s Gold

One recent example of this problem of context is Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice who was plucked from the streets of Columbus, Ohio and placed on a world stage. The world judged the situation based on a 1 minute and 14 second Youtube clip. We saw what appeared to be injustice, and rushed to right the wrong. Job offers poured in. Williams became a celebrity. But it all happened without the context of the 53 years of an undeniably checkered past that preceded the fateful video clip. As it is turning out, as we gain the context, the real story is not nearly as simple or straightforward as we would like. Williams is already in rehab.

Acting on hearsay and secondhand information is nothing new. But as our communication abilities and our ability to archive history continue to expand, we get further and further from the true context of things. With the advent of online, word of mouth flows farther, faster and is more compelling than ever. More and more, we will act on little bits of information that are far removed from their true origins. We will pass judgment without the benefit of context. This will create more instant celebrities, basking in their 15 minutes of fame. And it will also create more viral sensations with self-destructive tendencies. There’s one thing about context – it may not lead to the instant gratification we crave, but it does tend to keep the egg off of one’s face.