ADDICTED TO CONVERSATION
An anonymous computer talk channel proves habitforming.
The conversation had been going on for quite some time when I joined in. The topic of discussion among many of the participants seemed to involve some rather violent issues. One individual was inquiring as to why his friend was just recently killed by the Master. Others were concerned with the dominant nature of port Virgil. I contributed some thoughts on the matter. This wasn't your normal conversation by any means. For one thing, none of the participants were present. In fact I was sitting alone in my room at the time of the conversation.
I wasn't off my rocker, conjuring up some imaginary friends to help me pass my rainy afternoons. I had hooked up to a public talk session through my computer and was "speaking" to other real people around campus by means of messages typed onto a computer screen. This was "XYZ," or more commonly, the "CON," Dartmouth's computer conferencing network. Originally invented in the late seventies to be used as a simple conduit of information between students, the CON has eccentricized itself into a haven for computer junkies and social recluses. The program may have lost the popularity it enjoyed a few years back, but to some CON regulars, there is no substitute.
Brent Forester '88, a psychology major, wrote about both the program's habit-forming and reclusive sides in a paper titled, "The Power of Addiction in XYZ." On the one hand, he found evidence of strong peer support through the CON, including a student who had helped another abandon his suicide plans. But Forester also found a "dependency" among some students who spend large amounts of time on the system. Many students he spoke with said they found it easier to procrastinate from doing their classwork if they could chat with their friends through their Macintoshes.
The computer conference is similar to a telephone conference call except that it is visual rather than oral. Messages are seen instead of heard. A "Master" oversees the CON and plays umpire to the conversation among participants. The first person to join the program when it starts automatically becomes the Master. When he chooses to step down, the program restarts and the next quickest to join the conference takes control. While primarily a nominal role, the Master reserves the power to remove, or "kill," certain parties if the conversation gets out of hand. Largely, however, the conversation proceeds smoothly, often on more than one topic at a time. Participants join and leave the CON at will, and changing one's pseudonym is as easy as reaching for another cheese puff. The messages appear on the screen almost immediately after they are typed:
Message to all from #8: madthe fiends from port Virgil are ruiningmy existence on this planet.Message to all from #11: Herbthat's rough.
And the conversation continues.
The program is on Kiewit's public network; anyone who can access the network can join the CON. While Dartmouth students may make up the majority of the users, there are a number of regular users from the community and also a few from outside of the immediate vicinity who connect to the network via modem. The CON is on from seven in the morning until the network shuts down at 3:00 a.m.
Since its creation and placement on the system, the CON has found a unique niche among students on campus. The majority of the student users tend to be freshmen who are exploring the novelties of their newly purchased computers, and also perhaps working out social insecurities in their transition from high school to college life. As the term progresses, the network develops a core group of CON regulars. These students have made the CON an integral part of their life at the College. Some of these regular users may spend up to six hours a day hooked up to XYZ, and in a few cases even longer. These hardcore users make up the CON culture; they have their own dialect and method of expression for use on the conference. Pee Wee —> sleep means Pee Wee will disconnect soon and go to sleep. Tinkerbell LF Gummy Bear tells us Tinkerbell wants to know if Gummy Bear has been on the CON recently and if anyone knows where he is.
For most, the CON serves as a unique way to meet new people. Andy Williams, a Dartmouth senior who spent long hours on the CON as a freshman, agrees with the human nature of the conference. "Freshman year it was a big social scene," he says. "I met a lot of people on the system." With the capability of handling 36 participants at the same time, the CON has the appealing structure of a continuous cocktail hour of informal conversation. One would find it difficult not to find someone he would be interested in talking to.
Perhaps the most attractive feature to many who use the CON is its quality of anonymity. When joining the network, participants choose a pseudonym (e.g. mad, Herb, Friend of the Devil) which will then accompany their remarks on the screen. This allows participants to withhold their true identity from the other conferees, allowing each the freedom to express ideas and opinions without the fear of opening up one's own integrity to personal attack. Dean of Freshmen Diana Beaudoin, whose office is very aware of the network's appeal to freshmen, notes that "the anonymity of the conference provides a way to develop a relationship that is not face-to-face, and thus does not carry the same risks as a normal relationship might."
Participants agree that the anonymity factor is a definite draw to the conference. Freshman user ursula notes that "you can get away with saying anything you want to some people, and you don't have to worry what they thought of it because they don't know you anyway." Alaric, another freshman, adds, "I think the anonymity gives the network something that would be hard to establish in any other way at the College."
Anonymity allows for some rather open conversations. Topics can range from serious world-scale issues such as abortion and gun control to local issues such as classes and campus social life. Discussions can also be newssensitive a large number of people joined to discuss the San Francisco earthquake last fall.
In this light the CON appears to serve an intellectually redeeming purpose by providing students a continuous forum for discussion of important and pertinent issues. But, as some users note, such conversations are not the norm. "Useful, general discussions are rare," says Alaric, who claims to spend a good deal of time on the CON. The anonymity factor opens the door to the voicing of personal opinions of a nature that might not be possible (or safe) through more public media. Comments that are sexually explicit, sexist, racist, or homophobic, while not standard fare, are not uncommon either. The quality of the conversation tends to degrade late in the evening when the CON is busy and the number of random users equals or surpasses the regulars. The conversation can digress to some blunt topics and fairly raunchy language.
Much debate has gone on around campus about XYZ's value. Professors have complained to the administration that some students spend so much time hooked up to the conference that their studies have deteriorated. According to Dean Beaudoin, two students were suspended from the College in 1987 for academic reasons, ostensibly owing to their extended use of XYZ. (Normally, she says, it is difficult to pinpoint those whose academics suffer specifically from overuse of the conference network.) Nonetheless, she says there is little the deans legitimately can do about it: "We could try and cut back on the abuse of the networks, but we would be invading students' privacy. We have to allow people to make their own decisions; we can't invade people's rights to ensure a certain outcome."
Ursula admits that her use of the network is infringing on her work: "I find myself here when I should be studying." Alaric, on the other hand, doesn't think that his use of the network will have any great effect on his academic performance. He cites less-than-challenging classes. While many mention the academic consequences for CON abuse, some feel the students who do suffer would do so anyway even if the conference network were not available. Williams, who knows a number of students whose academic performance slumped as a result of their abuse of the CON, does not fault the computer. "It's not the program, it's the people," he says.
However many arguments arise for the removal of XYZ, an equal number support it. Many students mention the peer support that they get on the network. Its anonymous nature can make it easier for some to release frustrations and emotions and also talk more openly about personal problems in a way they might not be able to through more conventional means.
The CON seems destined to stick around. However, with the availability of other communications programs such as Blitzmail, an electronic mail system, and Broadcast, a real-time message program the numbers on the CON appear to be dwindling. Rare is the occasion when all 36 spots are active. But the regulars are still there. When I joined the conference about 2:45 one fall morning, there were 15 people bravely holding a discussion about favorite foods. They are the ones who will keep the CON alive.
"The CON has eccentricized itself into a haven for computerjunkies and social recluses."
History major Clayton Gates is a Whitney Campbell Intern with this magazine.
