Perhaps it is just the phase of life I am in, mother of two small children, but once again I find myself quoting children's literature, this time Mother Goose, to best summarize my feelings about email and the Internet in general: "there was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead; and when she was good, she was very, very good; and when she was bad, she was horrid."

At its best, electronic communities can be wonderfully supportive places where one can freely speak, ask for and receive information, or simply feel a part of something as you watch the discussion whiz by. At their worst, they can be divisive, alienating and infuriating.

With hindsight, I observe that the mailing lists I have found the most enjoyable and productive are those which share the following: first, they are convened for a specific purpose, such getting a group of people to collaborate on a proposal, or providing help to customers; second, they have among their membership one or a very few individuals who act as moderators, either official or self-appointed; and third, they are augmented by face-to-face meetings where members resolve conflicts, make final decisions, and, most importantly, are reminded that there is a human face behind the words.

Unfortunately, some of the worst ones, in my experience, are often those established purely for the purpose of "discussion". I am reminded particularly of a mailing list in my company four jobs back, nicknamed "soccom", an acronym for "social commentary". "Soccom" was in fact created by edict of senior management, who simply wanted to get provocative and pointless discussion of current events, whether corporate or global, off specific work-related mailing lists so that people could get some work done.

The intent was noble. However, "soccom", stripped of any other purpose, pretty much deteriorated into a forum in which people could deliberately provoke their co-workers with extreme views on any topical subject. The population being what it was, a group of mostly young, very bright, rather self-important, contributors to a company falling over itself in success, no provocation went unanswered. Nearly every new "thread" became a verbal wrestling match, with the victory going to the party who could maintain the wittiest, most cynical, withering banter without crossing some imaginary line into the truly vulgar and insulting. You may well ask, "So what? If a bunch of self-centered yuppies want to slice each other up in email, what do I care? I don't have to read it." True, one doesn't. I didn't, at least not for long. But "soccom" became a perverse kind of institution. If you weren't "on it", you weren't "with it". It reinforced an existing cliquishness, and it helped solidify into the corporate culture a brand of cynicism and contempt. The company ran into a lot of problems later, most of which I feel shared as a root cause a mentality that treated most outside views and trends with disdain, favored cleverness over true quieter contributions, and encouraged a sort of anarchistic populism that made it virtually impossible for leaders to lead.

OK, so, that's the "horrid" part. I have been part of other, far more satisfying electronic communities. If I ever need a recommendation or an opinion, I can query hundreds of friends, acquaintances and amiable strangers with the push of a button. When we were searching for a general contractor to build our addition, my electronic friends provided me with a list of twenty well-regarded builders. I have even experienced first-hand the much-talked about "leveling power" of the Internet, where prejudice melts away through electronic anonymity. Three jobs back, I participated actively in a mailing list for people who were using our then-new user interface technology, Motif. As the QA lead engineer, I took a lot of heat for bugs people found, and believe me, there was no shortage of them. During one particularly bitter battle, I found an ally in an IBM employee from Austin, Texas, whom I'd never met. Together, we turned the flaming around into a constructive proposal that satisfied the detractors. Gratefully, I wrote privately to the IBMer, asking if we could confer at the next Members' Meeting. My gallant knight turned out to be a slight, shy Chinese man with what appeared to be some form of Tourette's Syndrome: every few seconds, he was compelled to twitch, belch, hiccup or sigh. It didn't matter to me a bit; in my eyes, he was a giant. We remained allies and friends for years, a well-known duo in the small world of that community.

And what of our mailing list, our little "fpb-disc"? In my mind it has a mixture of characteristics that make it difficult to predict its role. I would feel confident in predicting this, however: the mailing list will make some enemies and will have some die-hard adherants. It will help some people connect and it will drive a wedge between others. And for better or worse, it will in some fashion help shape the tenor and flavor of our community. So when you write, remember Jefferson's advice, use your smiley faces, don't hit that CAPS LOCK key.