Historian Richard Bushman once said that all scholars seek a community in which they find support and friendships. No one really likes to be alone even if they do work pretty much alone. The sense of community for scholars, writers, teachers, artists, etc. is simply a reflection of their desire to share, to feel supported, and to know that there is someone "out there".
This "community" is not always about close friends or people who obsess over all we do, but it is about a group of individuals who have a common interest, who like to share some part of their work or thoughts, and who are willing to give feedback. For young scholars or those who are making a change in their scholarship, these communities can be critical. Most scholars, artists, and teachers--as well as a host of others in other professions--will vouch for the value of having a community.
In today's internet era, these communities seem to pop up more regularly and there seems to be an abundance of them, and all seemingly ready to accept new members. The dilemma, however, with most of these communities is that they do not really provide the feedback that someone really needs to grow in their vocation. The one-liners rarely provide enough to gleam anything of value, but more importantly these community "members" are often only momentarily interested. Given that the internet allows people to feel empowered to comment on everything without having to really open themselves to serious rebuttal, you receive all kinds of useless feedback.
But even more problematic in these communities is the "overload" they engage in. Most of these communities's interactions turn into a constant posting of "new" material with an accompnaying litany of one-line comments, followed by more postings and so on. The internet has made it easy to grab material from every corner of the scholarly or published world and to share it with whomever is willing to click a URL. This posted material has no sequence, logic nor does it necessary build upon the prior postings. It is tempting to keep "clicking" until one's brain becomes mush, unfortunately, being good at something does not always mean knowing everything about that something. Constructing something valuable is about analyzing, deciphering, and selecting what is appropriate to include in any project.
Commnities can initiatlly come together naturally but rarely do they remain so unless borders are set and the members nurture and maintain a set of values for their particular community. These communities may be transnavigable but they are not without boundaries. Since there is no real formality in these communities self-deportation--to use a Mitt Romney term--is usally the way they remain focused. Those boundaries, however, remain fluid and not rigid because as interests and subjects change so does the membership within them. Needless to say, in one's professional life there will be a lot of transnavigating in and out of communities.
The key to a successful community is that it is self-motivating and provides a space for open discussion. People feel that their ideas are appreciated but are considered challengeable. Since it is not a forum for refereeing work one can see the comments as a discussion of one's work and not as a judgment of it. People can disagree but they must do so in the context of adding to the conversation and not arguing a point. So a comment like "what about this approach" or "have you thought about" is better than "you're wrong" or "where did you come up with that". The sooner that a community is bound by respect and a little bit of admiration, the sooner it becomes a valuable asset to the members.
Valuable communities, however, are possible only when its members actually engage fully in the type of work that brought people together. It cannot be a grouping of two stars and a whole bunch of meteorites. Communities are an asset only when they are composed of equals, even though there are some more equal than others. Communities are not only about responding to a posting or a discussion but about creating a reason for interaction. This does not mean constant conversations or discussions, but the less one participates the more likely the boundaries of the community change and soon one might find him/herself outside the peripheies. It is then when one realizes that another community might be more appropriate.
As I mentioned earlier, young scholars, writers, teachers, etc. and those shifting fields are more likely to need communities than those who are more seasoned and who are pretty much invested in a particular field. The reason: we all need fans and people willing to spread the word about our work, and who can defend our flank when we are busy repulsing the enemy on the other flanks. Also, they provide encouragement, ideas, new ways of looking at things, and sometimes they even provide news of an opportunity. The community also shows to others that what we do is important enough that it has gathered a dedicated group of individuals to reason together about it.
There will be times in which we are not particularly interested in one becaue of the nature of our work, or simply because there are no others with the same interest. That happens. And its okay. But in most other cases it is better to have one.
