Giving 2006 Some FutureLove

I don't edit or write entries at Wikipedia, but I do use it regularly, not so much as a source of definitive information, but as a guide for generally understood basics and helpful tips on where to find the firmly authoritative material on a topic--in other words, pretty how one ought to use an all-encompassing encyclopedia. Naturally, I think the phenomenon is fascinating, as it approaches the task of collecting and organizing All Knowledge in the only way that really makes any sense: decentralizing the workload. A recent issue of The Atlantic contained a pretty fascinating article on the topic by Marshall Poe, and today, Tim Lee links to and comments on another interesting bit of research regarding the distribution of contributors on the site.

The burst of growth in Wikipedia and the general sprawl of the web suggest, I think, the odd way in which society is evolving in simultaneous competing directions. After browsing through the excellent exhibits at The Phillips Collection today, I picked up a book in the gift shop that had a lengthy timeline of notable art events in the last century. One of them was the formation of a Russian art group (I can't remember the name) that declared its art to be a response to the needs of "a collective society." At that time, I'm sure this seemed entirely reasonable. These days, however, most of society is moving further from collectivization, as least in its traditional political forms. Especially in America, society has become fragmented and atomized, obsessed with the individual.

But in another sense, we're forming ever stronger collective bonds through developments like the internet, wikipedia, blogs, YouTube, MySpace, and the rest of the thriving participatory culture. Our individualized society, through technology, is actually producing a fairly robust, dynamic collective self, encompassing art, information, dating and relationships, and countless other areas of life. Yes, it has its limits right now, but these limits are constantly being expanded, and there doesn't look to be a definitive end. It's enough that, once in a while, in the midst of all of this, I actually get the sense that, yes, I've made it. I'm actually living in--or at least on the brink of--the science fiction future that, as a bookish, Asimov-obsessed youngster, I always assumed would arrive. Where is this all leading us? I'm not certain, but I sure am glad I'm along for the ride.