The reason they do it is, of course, highly laudible: they want to help other charities and show them what’s possible. Many people are being inspired, and many are discovering that they’re not isolated any more: there’s a community of people out there with similar jobs, issues and interests.

I’m fed up, I realise, because I feel woefully inadequate. I feel I’m crap at my job because I haven’t managed to use digital media to the great effect that others have, even though I may have been doing it for longer. And my job currently has lots of threads, none of which I feel are delivering very much.

But of course, we don’t all have the teams, support and access to funding that we’d like: so maybe I’m not alone.

The organisation I work for comprises around 30 staff and runs a number of projects. Many of these run nationally. They involve thousands of young people and teachers, and hundreds of volunteers. One project alone involves over 800 magistrates; another involves lawyers from about a third of the UK’s top 100 law firms.

It goes without saying that each project must be reflected in our central communications output. But we have no communications team now, just me. There is no press person, no PR person. I have no team; I have a small budget, which pays for the maintenance of our corporate website and not much else.

I spend my time supporting the teams, managing the website, writing content, trying to keep networks afloat, trying to find information, planning communications strategies, looking for journalists and trying to keep track of what we’re doing.

Put in black and white like this, it seems silly that I might beat myself up for not managing to pull off an exciting social media campaign, or for not solving our funding issues by giving our fundraiser the necessary online tools and training.

Yet only in the last couple of days have I realised that we can’t all be poster-children. Quick wins, led by a flexible but clear response to strategy, are all that some of us can aspire to.

So my message is: don’t be disheartened by other people’s successes. Some charities may well be running innovative and exciting social media campaigns, but we don’t all have the capacity, support or public appeal to follow their lead.

For example, what works for one charitable cause won’t necessarily work for another.

We should let our use of digital stuff be led by our goals and strategy, not by someone else’s.

If we know what we need to achieve and why we need to achieve it, digital tools can allow us do so. And they can allow us to be flexible and spontaneous in doing it.

We should play, if we can. We can’t choose the best solutions based on our goals if we don’t know what’s available, and in my experience the best way to understand what’s available is by trying it out. The barrier to use is generally so low and fast that if we have the freedom to try stuff, we should use it.

We can’t all lead the way in charity marketing, but we can do our best with what we’ve got.

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I keep hearing people talking about how they’ve written a ‘set of Twitter protocols’ or ‘a social media policy’. They cover things like what to tweet and what not to tweet, how often to tweet it and the ‘right way’ to use Twitter. (If you think you know the answer to that last one please keep it to yourself.)

Do we really need policies and protocols for every aspect of our job? If so, why are people employing us? Surely we use social media tools only if appropriate, if doing so helps deliver our communications goals and in compliance with our organisation’s existing codes of practice? Just like any other tools for communicating. When was the last time you saw a six-page document detailing how to use a telephone, what not to say on it and how often you should ring people? (Ok, in some lines of work (such as call centres) there will be protocols for using the phone, but you get my drift.)

I tried writing a social media policy myself recently. I started with the intention of providing broad concepts to help people communicate confidently online (such as ‘think about your audience’ rather than ‘don’t tweet more than fourteen times a minute’), and abandoned it when I realised I was simply reiterating what was already in our contracts and organisational policies; and what was, on the whole, common sense borne of experience.

Instead I wrote a guide to blogging and social media that aims to give colleagues some advice but tries to avoid a ‘right way’ of doing it (it is a document of good practice, not a policy). If communicating is part of someone’s job then we should trust them to do it appropriately; if they don’t then there are management protocols already at our disposal for dealing with them.

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5:37
Andrew Mitchell telling us how great Birmingham is, and how the Tories enjoy coming here, and how thriving a blogging community we have. Creep

5:37
Last time they came the Tories had a lovely reception from the people of Birmingham. That’s partly why I moved here too.

5:39
“If we don’t dictate things the market will” (Andrew Mitchell, paraphrased; a lot)

5:40
Birmingham’s coalition council has been good for democracy apparently, and is a good model.

5:41
“The whole concept of the Big Society … is an answer to the self-evident fact that the state can’t do everything” – Andrew Mitchell

5:42
“There is such a thing as society, it’s just not the same as the state” (Andrew Mitchell). Hmm… :-/

5:42
Baroness Warsi will be joining us later, apparently.

5:44
“There is a strong opportunity to change the way our civic activity works…” (Nick Booth, worrying that we’re retreating from that).

5:46
“The trick is not just to put everything in the public domain, but to put it there in a way that’s accessible” – Andrew Mitchell

5:47
“Is there any tension between Cllr Whitby and David Cameron” re elected Mayors? (Simon Gray). No, according to Andrew Mitchell.

5:48
Is AM ‘Minister for Birmingham’ or not? Question now being asked.

5:49
Difficult having a regional minister, because there are so many regional interests. – Andrew Mitchell

5:50
Rather than rushing in, we’re going to think about it. (Andrew Mitchell re regional ministers and mayors, etc)

5:50
Having trouble hearing…

5:51
Sorry if this reads a bit randomly, I’m also having trouble focussing.

5:52
Alison Smith: what are the Conservatives’ digital priorities?

5:53
“People who have disabilities … should not be impeded in any way by any changes that we may make” – Andrew Mitchell

5:55
Digital content (eg streaming) tends not to be accessible. If disabled people are expected to engage with politics accessibility needs to be better. (I think that was the gist of what Alison was saying.)

5:56
Nicky Getgood: what can you do to help people do interesting things with local, redundant spaces?

5:58
“In the past the balance of power has rested far too much with developers and not the local people” … areas surrounding people’s homes has been too much in the hands of developers, who hold neighbourhoods to ransom in that respect. AM

5:59
Oh hear we go, he’s slagging of John Prescott. Yawn.

5:59
‘Here’ we go, I mean. Sorry.

6:01
“Any smaller plans [for Sutton Coldfield development] now that the larger ones have been put to one side?” – Najm Clayton

6:02
Apparently they’ve asked lots of people and have a ‘permissive’ blueprint; engine is economic investment and growth, so until then… erm, no. I think.

6:03
But he’s doing everything he can to make Sutton Coldfield attractive.

6:03
And he’s off. Many thanks to Andrew Mitchell for his time, that was quite interesting.

6:05
Some centre-right policy wonk is handing out business cards. They’re blue.

6:11
Baroness Warsi has arrived.

6:18
Had a quick and interesting discussion with Baroness Warsi on why social media is worth taking notice of. Many of us wouldn’t be in this room now if it wasn’t for Twitter. Interestingly her Question Time non-appearance was due to an eye infection, and that if it wasn’t for social media-ites people would still be unaware of that. So she’s not completely dismissive.

6:20
Alex Hughes has been drawing cartoons. Hopefully I’ll be able to link to some later.

6:25
Sam Coates (their ‘digital’ man) says the point was simply to get ministers to meet alternative media publishers. In which case I applaud them.

6:25
And now I go, because I’m running low on battery.

6:41
I’m back briefly to give you Alex Hughes’ artistic interpretation of the meeting: http://bit.ly/cMdeab

6:41
Erm, don’t follow that link. Apparently it’s a zip file. Hang on…

6:47
…Here it is: http://www.dropbox.com/gallery/564489/2/Drawnalism/ConConf2010?h=4bb671

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If there was a mantra of ‘you only get back if you put in’, I would have heard it a thousand times by now. It’s very true of course: forming connections with people via social media takes energy and commitment, just as it does in any other setting. But also the nature of your work will impact on the level of engagement you’re comfortable with.

For example, imagine someone works for an organisation with an attractive cause. They use Twitter regularly and comfortably to chat and engage with their audience. But move that person to an organisation with a complex or controversial cause and I almost guarantee they will find the experience very different, even if they’re given the same capacity and resources as before.

Take the charity Dogs Trust. It is often (and quite rightly) held up as a shining example of how a charity can use Twitter effectively. Some people see them as a benchmark; I would caution against that, and instead encourage people to understand the communications needs of their own organisation before trying to fit into someone else’s social media model. Alexandra Goldstein, of Dogs Trusts’ digital team, puts it like this:

“When we do a presentation, we’re saying ‘this is what we do’, not ‘this is what you should do’. The idea is to pick those ideas that work for your message and objectives. The conversational style for Twitter can be very powerful, but doesn’t work for everyone”.

To illustrate, imagine you are given the following instructions:

Define a dog in simple terms. Define animal welfare in simple terms. Go to a random pub. Find some people who are interested in dogs. Start an enjoyable conversation with someone about dogs. Find some people who agree with you about animal welfare.

Not too difficult, I imagine.** Now try it again, this time with a different subject:

Define citizenship in simple terms. Define citizenship education in simple terms. Go to a random pub. Find some people who are interested in citizenship education. Start an enjoyable conversation with someone about citizenship education. Find some people who agree with you about citizenship education.

Easy? I doubt it.

Citizenship and citizenship education are not easy subjects to talk about comfortably with any authority. To do so requires a lot of knowledge, a fair amount of experience and more than a generous dollop of confidence. Conversation participants will tend towards the intellectual, often have strong views, and can be quick to challenge. The poor sod ‘holding the keys’ to the Twitter account has to be able to respond engagingly, sensitively and – especially – on the same intellectual level.

It’s also much easier to strike up a relationship by responding to light, open banter than by imposing on someone’s time with a serious subject that expects a degree of reflection. It’s very hard to make small-talk around a topic such as citizenship education (small-talk about pets, on the other hand, is second nature to many people), and therefore starting a meaningful relationship with a stranger is quite difficult – particularly when they’re as physically and socially removed from you as they often are on Twitter.

I used to think Twitter was all about conversing and engaging. It certainly can be, and it is very good for that: I have found it easy to build a strong network of friends and colleagues in my personal capacity as @citizensheep. But I have also found it incredibly hard to strike the right balance with our organisation’s Twitter presence (@citizenship).

I have come to the conclusion that if my work strategy, capacity and comfort levels lead me simply to broadcast rather than chat, then why shouldn’t I? After all, the power is in the hands of the reader: it’s their choice to read my tweets; in fact, they probably won’t even follow me if they don’t find me interesting.

The loss from not engaging is ours; and, if our strategy is to get information out, those losses would be even greater if I didn’t use Twitter at all.

Twitter is a social tool; there is no correct way to use it. Different organisations will need to use it in different ways (if at all), and with different levels of importance given to it. Dogs and citizens are, after all, very different beasts.

PS

* You can probably replace ‘Twitter’ with ‘social media’ throughout this post.

** This is in no way meant to undervalue the excellent work of the Dogs Trust’s Digital team. I’m not for a moment suggesting their job is easier than ours, just that the use of tools appropriate for one organisation will not always be so for another. And many thanks to said team for their input in this post.

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A recent YouGov poll for the Citizenship Foundation interviewed almost 4,000 14-25 year-olds about their attitudes to political participation, politicians and power in the United Kingdom.

• The majority of respondents said they would be likely to vote, with 59 per cent seeing voting as the most useful way of participating in local or national politics.
• 32 per cent said they were knowledgeable about “the way that local and national government works”; of those, 71 per cent said the internet was a source of their news.
• 85 per cent had never joined a campaigning group in their local community (fairly consistent across the age ranges), and 50 per cent thought doing so would make no difference to the issues the tackle (also fairly consistent).
• 51 per cent had never joined a campaigning group on a social networking site, but 42 per cent had; however 65 per cent thought doing so would make no difference.
• 54 per cent said they would be more likely to vote if they could do so online.
• Email was seen as the most effective tool for making a political difference online. This doubles at the top end of the age bracket. Twitter scores very low and only increases fractionally with older respondents; although interestingly there is a significant spike among 16 year-olds (almost treble the score of younger age groups).

Further information

This post was originally published on the Citizenship Foundation Webmaster blog. The research was commissioned to mark the Citizenship Foundation’s 20th year.

• Press releases
• Download the survey results summary (pdf)
• Download the full survey results (pdf)

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I had been incensed by a cashpoint in Birmingham’s International Convention Centre. It charged £2.50, which at the time was almost a pound more than other charging cash machines. Yet I knew full well that there was a free cash machine just a few minutes’ walk away. I felt the ICC was taking brazen advantage of people’s ignorance and I wanted somehow to leave a note there giving directions to the free machine; but more than that I wanted a systematic way for anyone to do the same.

There were problems with this:

• how to find quickly the information you want to share;
• how to generate that information if it doesn’t already exist (eg, nearest free cashpoint on a map);
• how to impart that information quickly and accessibly;
• how to leave that information to hand without:
  • causing criminal damage;
  • requiring extra tools (eg Post-It Notes);
  • risking it being removed straight away.

We came up with a solution involving tagged Audioboos & an abstract symbol left nearby, but this had drawbacks:

• as it uses Audioboo an iPhone is required;
• it relies on the chosen tag being unique;
• it relies on digital tools & prior understanding of the system (eg the user must have gps & have enabled browser to broadcast their location);
• (in theory) it detects when someone requests tips for a given location, but doesn’t map the required information;
• it doesn’t solve the problems of finding the information in the first place.

But now we have foursquare. And foursquare works on more mobile devices than just the iPhone.

With foursquare we can add information about a place from the comfort of our living room (I just added a tip about the Brindleyplace cashpoint to the ICC entry) and people can see that in context. For example, if someone is in the ICC their mobile device will tell them there are tips for their location and they can see mine alerting them to the existence of a free cashpoint. Brilliant.

I get the impression that this wasn’t quite the intention of foursquare’s ‘tips’ feature, but I can see that if enough people use it businesses will have to sit up and take notice: they may have to start trying harder to fleece people than simply relying on ignorance.

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Visit Citizensheep’s audio on Audiofarm

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Although I’m still not sure I know any more than other people in a similar role, I have surprised myself with all the stuff I do (albeit badly, most of the time) without really realising it.

I’ve been working for the same organisation since 1995 (yes, 1995). I haven’t left in part because I’m rubbish at moving on, but mainly because I love it there (that’s a good thing for me; possibly a bad thing for them). I’ve been the Website Manager officially since 2002, but have been responsible for the corporate website (we have a number of others now) since we decided we wanted one back in 1998.

I had been using email and the internet for a few years, but I knew absolutely nothing about web development. We were recommended some two-person operation who ‘built websites’ and I went on a basic HTML course in order to understand what they were talking about. After that I downloaded and printed (printed!) the HTML 3 specification, and then the HTML 4 one. I bought myself a PC and in my spare time I faffed around with HTML, image editing, and general web nonsense. I never got into building my own websites, but instead concentrated my pedantic energies on tweaking the organisation’s pages.

Since then the organisation has gone through some major changes. It’s had to reappraise itself a few times due to the changing climate within which it was working, and has undergone major organisational restructuring. It has taken on lots of diverse projects and has almost trebled the number of staff. The website has had to develop with and adapt to all of this.

At this point I should explain that the website operates on a tiny annual budget, with which it has to support the entire organisation. That’s not a complaint, in fact it’s something I’m quite proud of, but it serves to add context to the developments we’ve made.

The other thing I want to explain at this point is that I have never changed contractors. I have thought about it once or twice; but the commitment, integrity, economy, friendliness and willingness with which they operate has just been too valuable to lose. They are a small outfit – there are three of them now – and I have still never been seduced by the sugary words and golden promises of the big, slick operators.

And I’m not good at making decisions; I tend to get stuck in a cycle of weighing things up. On the rare occasion that I have considered changing contractors, I have thought that my reluctance to do so stemmed from my fear of change and of committing to a decision. Maybe it did; but I’m bloody glad I chose not to move. Building such easy working relationships takes time; yes, some patches of that time are happier than others, but the relationships don’t develop if you don’t give them the chance. And the smaller and more personal the organisation, the easier it is bond with.

Added to that, it’s only fairly recently that I’ve begun to appreciate the different skills that we all bring to the job. In the outset I presumed they could do everything web-related: of course they couldn’t, any more than I can now. But those skills are all developed along the way: what I now have is a pretty good understanding of what we’re all capable of achieving, rather than what we can only demonstrate at any given time. That doesn’t happen if you don’t give the relationship time to evolve.

But back to the website itself. As the organisation grew, and the projects became more abundant and more independent, it became clear that we needed to devolve some of the responsibilities for the upkeep of the website to project staff. This meant procuring a content management system (CMS), which in turn meant understanding what the project staff would need to be able to do with it (with no way of knowing themselves, and all with different and changing requirements), and with next to no budget. So we built it ourselves. Or rather, I cack-handedly scoped it out and my contractor sweated blood turning my messy concept into a beautifully coded reality.

The CMS development suffered severe ‘mission-creep’, mainly because we were learning a lot of what we needed as we went along. The bespoke nature of the CMS, possibly along with a naivity on our part of what we were taking on, has meant that it is not all that user-friendly or intuitive. It also means that we now have a long list of requirements for any new CMS, and would have a hard job ensuring that everything is covered off should we move to a new one (as is possibly the intention). In itself this isn’t a big issue, provided we audit the requirements carefully; the problem is more that my understanding of the web is now more sophisticated, and I need to decide whether the nuances of those ‘requirements’ are actually still right for us.

Aside from the CMS, there are certain functions that the website has to discharge which don’t have a counterpart in the organisational structure. This requires of me expertise in areas that I have no real experience of – such as managing the sale and tracking of resources or organising an organisation-wide image library – in order to plan new developments.

In fact, I need to be a bit of a jack-of-all-trades.

I’m a web designer

I write a lot of the underlying HTML for the website, and most of the Cascading Styles Sheets (CSS). It could be a lot better, but at least I know that. I designed the concept and layout of the current site, and am trying gradually to introduce developing standards such as CSS3 and microformats. I edit and optimise images: I really want to be in a place where people can store, share, label and control images without having to worry about file formats and pixel numbers, but at the moment I deal with all of that myself.

I’m a writer

I have to be able to write well. I have written a lot of the content in the past, and am editing a lot of it now. This requires a good understanding of how to communicate on a web page, and a solid writing style. Oh well.

I’m an editor and a sub-editor

One of the problems with enabling people to manage their own bits of a website is how you ensure the integrity of the writing. Style guides and management structures help, but where those fail someone has to take responsibility for what’s published on the site. So far that’s been me.

I’m a learner

In order to be of any use to the organisation I have to keep up to speed with the constantly changing nature of the web. For example I explore the benefits of social media, and I manage and advise on our approach to social media tools. I also have to have a pretty solid understanding of the anatomy of the web and of web pages, in order to know how best to support the online work of the organisation.

I’m a teacher

I have to be able to explain abstract concepts in plain English to staff and managers. I have to train staff in the relevant areas of the CMS, and help them understand how the website – and the web in general – can support their work. As well as being clear I also have to be inspiring. Not sure I manage either of those, but hey.

I’m a web accessibility champion

There all sorts of reasons why I would be doing my job badly if I didn’t appreciate the importance of web accessibility, but I won’t go into that here. However, the charity I work for encourages and enables civic engagement, which to my mind means that we must be as inclusive as possible: and that means being as accessible as possible.

I’m a pioneer

I encourage and support staff in the use of web technologies, and gently push the online boundaries of the organisation. I try to adopt emerging technologies where appropriate, and make a point of personally adopting others (partly for fun and partly to keep up to speed).

I’m a manager

In theory. I’m not very good at this bit, but I do have to do it. The site would be nothing without the contractors and all the other contributors, but they all need pulling together. I also have to try and balance myself between the priorities of the External Relations team (which is where my role is located) and those of the individual projects.

I’m a communications professional

As part of the External Relations team I also support the core communications function of the organisation, which requires an understanding of communications more generally.

I’m a strategist

The work of our organisation is particularly diverse, and so defining what the corporate website is and how it supports the various needs of the projects is an ongoing and challenging task. I take a lead on how we communicate ourselves via the web; I never get this right in everyone’s eyes (least of all in mine), but I chip away at trying to make it better.

I’m wrong

I need people to be confident that I know what I’m talking about, but I must never presume that I’m right. I can believe I’m doing the right thing, and for the right reasons; but if I ever get too complacent about standards or ignore other people’s views, then the organisation really needs to find someone else.

So there you have it. I don’t claim to do any of this with any flair whatsoever, but I like to think I might be good at some of it.

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Whilst I appreciate that the report is framed as “an active industrial policy” (in the introduction by Lord Mandelson and Ben Bradshaw MP), I do think it has missed the importance of the voluntary aspect of digital engagement.

Creating for love not money

Lord Carter’s report does acknowledge that people are using and sharing stuff differently now, and appears to acknowledge the blurring boundaries between creators and consumers of content and services. But, at the same time, it seems unable to comprehend the ‘marketplace’ as anything fuzzier than ‘producers’ and ‘consumers’. The report itself seeks new models for payment and rights, and the strategy document of the Technology Strategy Board (the body charged with implementing the government’s strategy) considers the challenge of “how to identify opportunities for content producers to generate revenue from consumption of their content”.

But, as Jon Bounds pointed out in a discussion group last week, a great many people are creating content, systems and services without requiring any sort of payment. They may do it because they enjoy it, or they see a need for it, or simply because they can.

For example (and I use ones from Birmingham simply because I know of them), Big City Talk is a translation of Birmingham’s development plan into plain English, by a group of friends who thought it needed doing; Matthew Somerville pushed the web accessibility agenda by autonomously producing an accessible version of the National Rail Enquiries website; Nicky Getgood put Digbeth on the social media map with Digbeth is Good because she just liked writing about it.

As a result, people (generally understood by the Report as ‘consumers’) often become as useful to the commercial ‘producers’ as the producers are to them: except they do it for no financial reward. They are benefiting the economy and society, often in spite of the market.

Physical infrastructure needs support, but so does social infrastructure

This is all possible because people can now share easily, widely and instantaneously. Social interactions can be much faster, more productive, more democratic, less financially constrained and less reliant on the market than before.

The tools that enable these interactions become (and indeed are known as) our ‘social networks’.

Twitter, for example, is to the digital infrastructure as train companies are to railway tracks. Although the former relies on the latter, it is the former that makes or breaks the social advantage offered by the latter. Commercial decisions by train companies can have profound effects on society: for example, if they close a rural line because it isn’t financially viable, the community it served is suddenly cut off from the rail network. The companies are providing a service that uses a physical infrastructure, but the service itself is surely part of our social infrastructure. In the same way, Twitter is as important a part of the social infrastructure as the servers that it relies on are part of the physical.

Team DB (as the Digital Britain team were known) has put a lot of energy into thinking about infrastructure, but – as far as I can tell – this is understood simply in terms of pipes and access: what about the systems that provide our new social infrastructures?

When Twitter goes down it can have a profound effect. For example, when the Iranian authorities tried to black out media coverage of its recent election, Twitter was used by the public as a key tool for communicating news to the rest of the world. However, Twitter had planned an hour of downtime right at the point when Iran needed it most, and so took the commercially dangerous decision to postpone it until the next day. A laudable move, but the downtime still happened while the situation in Iran was unstable.

In the Iran example the downtime was due to planned maintenance, but Twitter buckles under the strain quite frequently: it’s not as reliable as we expect it to be. For example, I now rely on Twitter for managing my social life – in much the same way as many people now rely on mobile companies – so when the service fails I am suddenly cut off from my supportive community.

Certainly the digital infrastructure is crucial, and Lord Carter is right to investigate ways of encouraging innovation and investment in order to ensure it reaches everyone. But government also needs to appreciate the importance of supporting the new social infrastructures (such as Twitter) that are enabled by the digital ones, and to ensure that they’re not undermined by commercial imperatives: as we saw to a degree in the example of Twitter and the Iran election.

People are volunteers, not simply consumers

Yes we need to be commercially competitive if we are to survive and thrive in a digital world; but why? For the sake of it? Or, ultimately, for the sake of people? Surely the economy needs to be healthy in order to benefit people, not the other way round?

People are not just producers or consumers, but individuals who operate on far more complex social levels, driven by love, need, interest, recognition (the list goes on): they are, in the broadest sense, volunteers. As such (and as mentioned earlier) they use the new tools not just to consume, but to create, share, and affect change.

For us all to do so effectively, for us to get the most out of the new tools and infrastructures, requires high levels of digital literacy. Simply knowing how to use the tools is not enough; we need a profound understanding of how to maximise the benefit of those tools and how to adapt them for new circumstances.

The role of the formal education sector in developing skills and aptitudes is acknowledged in Lord Carter’s report, but what about the voluntary* sector? That is, the sector which is – by virtue of being relatively out of reach of government control – often best placed to understand people as people and volunteers, rather than as workers and consumers.

Many charities and community groups are already supporting people in using and understanding digital technologies: how they can be harnessed for personal development, personal wellbeing, civic engagement and social change; all the stuff that people do voluntarily, without expecting any sort of payment.

Add to those voluntary bodies all the loose groupings of individuals who give their time simply because they care (for example Birmingham’s Social Media Surgeries, the recent LocalGovCamp, Rhubarb Radio, numerous bloggers such as Nicky Getgood and Charlie Pinder), and it becomes apparent that a whole swathe of useful talent has been overlooked by Lord Carter’s report.

That talent doesn’t just use tools that are made available by commercial outfits (such as Twitter), it relies on them; more than that: although Twitter (for example) is a commercial venture, it is the users who are shaping its social significance.

For Digital Britain to be a success, there needs – I feel – to be an acknowledgement of the hold that commercial bodies have over our social infrastructures, and a mechanism for managing and regulating that.

In case I’m talking rubbish…

I’m neither an academic nor a researcher, so these thoughts are based alone on my experience and limited reading. Therefore read everything here with critical objectivity (which, to be honest, you should do with everything you read). I had intended to blog this elsewhere, but I’m posting it here first in order to test its credibility.

* In this instance the word ‘voluntary’ is used specifically as part of the label ‘voluntary sector’, which is an umbrella term for charities, community groups and other not-for-profit organisations.

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As a crude record of what I wrote, what follows is my Twitter stream for that event. All I’ve done is take the html from Twitter Search and pasted it here without its stylesheet. The tweets appear in reverse chronological order.

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  1. Should we tackle the digital divide or live with it?
  2. Digital mentors as pastoral carers?
  3. Digital mentors?