by Steve Cisler

    In 1989 the Library of Congress had an exhibit of photographs from a book about the Roosevelt years portraying everyday life in rural America in the 1930's up to the eve of the Second World War. The book Documenting America selected "Cold drinks inside the Red Robin Cafe" for the cover. A poster of the photograph sits above my computer desk. Taken in 1941 in Vale, Oregon, by the prolific photographer Russell Lee, it shows a group of four men seated at a table near the window. They have finished their meals. Heavy tumblers of water and crumpled napkins on empty plates. They are talking and listening. Outside, resting on a bench by the picture window are women and men, chatting and watching the traffic. It seemed to capture the essence of rural community: people coming in to town to shop, have a meal, and trade news and gossip with old friends. No cell phones, no Internet, and no satellite television to distract anyone.

It is easy to idealize a time when you were not alive, to ignore the problems of the past and exaggerate the tranquility that radiates from the scene. On the other hand, our Internet access has changed the equation. Think about how few people had even seen the picture until a curator chose it fifty years later for the book and exhibit. This same person, Carl Fleischhauer, became one of the lead developers for American Memory, the ambitious project to put the photographic works first on laserdisc and then CD-ROM and finally on the World Wide Web along with dozens of other collections. Now anyone with access to the Internet can retrieve this picture and thousands more by Russell Lee and other, more famous photographers such as Dorthea Lange and Walker Evans. Anyone can now look at the face of rural America in the 1930's. The technology can connect us with a past most of us have never known.

The MIRA project took shape at a time in the late 1990s when the promise of the Internet and the power of networked computers was rarely challenged. In the popular press as well as trade publications, every article heralded new findings that showed the extraordinary growth in networks, users, computer ownership, and number of Web servers. The Internet gold rush was at the stage where people were leaving college and graduate school to join startup companies. In fact, they were leaving high school to start their own businesses. Venture capitalists fought over shares of hot new companies because every day trader knew that the first one to market with a good (or perhaps even a bad) idea would make the most money. I met people in many professions who felt like they were missing the boat by not joining a startup or putting all their savings into an IPO for cheeseshreders.com. This extended to the non-profit world where most employees already worked for little financial remuneration and settled for other tangible social satisfactions, but there was an exodus to Internet startups from that sector as well. The Internet was supposed to decentralize organizations and break down hierarchy and here it was acting like a giant magnet pulling young people and billions of dollars in venture capital each month into centers of high-tech activity: Boulder, Boise, Austin, Park City, Cambridge, San Diego, Silicon Alley in New York, Seattle, and of course Silicon Valley— a state of mind more than a fixed geography It is a place that has managed to weather the end of growth cycles by spawning a new one before the previous one has stopped providing growth. During a lull in semi-conductor growth, personal computers sprang up, and as that leveled off, telecommunications, and of course the Internet. Will that growth cycle resume with some new development?

Many other places wanted to duplicate the success of Silicon Valley, and they still do. Here in San Jose we have regular pilgrimages from teams of economic development officers from India, Japan, Lithuania, Brazil, and many American cities. Some of these places like Singapore, China, and Malaysia, are very centralist in their planning, and they count on strong government involvement to build the infrastructure, attract the investors, control how the Internet is used by citizens,. They write the legislation that encourages the growth of favorable high tech policies. Not only countries but states, regions, and smaller towns look at their own assets and usually think about improving their telecommunications infrastructure. However, there are many financial, technical, and regulatory barriers to achieving this. Almost every town with a technology committee wants more bandwidth. Many places don't know how much they need, but they have responded to marketing publicity and economic projections about the benefits of a fiber optic network. Sometimes they have met serious difficulties.

An example of a rural project fueled by genuine local needs, marketing buzz and one too many readings of Megatrends, was the Lusk, Wyoming, fiber optic network plan. Lusk lived through an oil boom in the 1920s, but by 1995 it had less than 2000 people. The mayor believed that businesses would flock in once they had a broadband infrastructure. This costly venture never was realized in spite of grants and investments by U.S. West, and a fiber path that went into town but served no one. In the aftermath the mayor lost the next election, and the town was left with a no-tech mayor, extra spools of fiber optic cable, and citizens who had to make do with a fairly standard dialup connection from a regional ISP.

Rain Follows the Plow

The promise that economic well-being for rural towns would somehow follow the installation of fast connections to the Internet reminded me of one of the greatest propaganda campaigns in America's westward expansion in the 1880's. Charles Dana Wilbur promoted the scheme to encourage farming and homesteading beyond the 100th meridian in what had been known as "The Great American Desert.". "Rain Follows the Plow" meant that with the settlement of new lands, rainfall would increase as soon as the plow broke the soil. Pamphlets containing pseudo-scientific explanations were translated in many languages to encourage gullible Europeans and Americans back east to follow the railroads and begin to farm in the arid lands. However, when the droughts hit, many new farmers were ruined, and the small towns died.

As I write this introduction in March 2001, a year after the Internet bubble began to deflate, the changes are evident to all of us. People who were worth many millions on paper now are lucky if the same stock is worth thousands. Those who exercised stock options have major tax burdens that did not disappear when the stock crashed. Personal computer sales are lagging. Telecommunications companies with aggressive plans to roll out high speed cable modem, digital subscriber line, wireless and satellite connections to American consumers are scaling back their predictions from millions of new customers to thousands of new ones. It became clear that only reckless venture capitalists had any faith in some of the hare-brained schemes that appeared on the Web and then disappeared like wild flowers at the end of Spring. Meanwhile, there are layoffs of thousands of workers, not just in flakey dot com startups but in large multi-billion dollar companies like Cisco, Motorola, and Ericsson They are selling off unprofitable parts of the business, and restraining their copy writers to tone down the hype about "the new economy." This slowdown in the heavily populated urban and ex-urban areas means that economies of scale will not bring some of these benefits to rural America very quickly unless there is a government subsidy or the cost is borne by outsiders. The ripple effects of this downturn are being felt in rural America and in the developing world. Advanced services will spread more slowly in the MIRA areas than we had hoped.

Just as the technology economy is slowing down, there is an international movement to help correct the disparity between developed countries and developing countries where the populations is predominantly poor and rural. The Digital Opportunity Task Force or "DOT force" has made recommendations for a course of action for the G8, the eight major industrialized nations to take starting in July 2001. Input from non-profits, companies, and foundations has been made to government representatives, and many of the lessons from MIRA will some relevance to small towns and villages in other countries.

My skepticism about the importance of ICT has been refined. I agree that knowledge of and availability of telecommunications is important for the economic life of a region or country. The sociologist Manual Castells sees ICT development as crucial to include in any economic planning. Just as it was unthinkable a century ago to plan for new enterprises without considering electricity, 21st century economies, whether national or village level, must include networked information technology. He believes that many countries have no more than two decades to get up to speed or be left behind forever. John Chambers, the CEO of Cisco, believes the vitality of whole nations depends on the amount they invest in ICT. That is not surprising for him to claim this, given his company's success (until now) and its product line. It is difficult to imagine how a town, county, company, state, region, can compete against, or work effectively with counterparts unless they are networked and much of the populace is conversant with the technologies. The catch is to project ahead and figure out what a town needs and how much resources should be invested in training, infrastructure, equipment, and software. Just how important is all of this to the average citizen?

I believe that many people can function effectively without focusing their existence around computers and networks. It is true that electronic mail can change people's lives and lessen a person's isolation at a lonely job or in a retirement home, that small businesses can be run from home using a web server and low cost tools and services developed for just such a market, and that electronic tools can help bind groups together in order to get a project completed much faster than with only the phone and mail for communication, but the expectations that it will somehow bring new business to a town, that e-commerce will revitalize main street, that it will make it possible for all young people to return home after college, and that it will transform the way we citizens relate to and form our government are too extreme, and there are bound to be many disappointments as there was in Lusk.

The decisions faced by towns and regions everywhere must be based on the populace's ability to organize, deiberate, plan, and work together. The volatility of the information economy over the past few years is evidence that the focus of the MIRA training was more useful than heavy doses of technology sessions—even though some whom I interviewed wished for just that. The conceptual and practical building blocks provided by this training can help a group decide about many local issues, not just the lack of a community technology center or fast Internet connections.

When I first heard the descriptions of the training requirements and the non-negotiable attendance requirements to qualify for a $15,000 grant, it reminded me of a soup kitchen where the homeless have to sit through a sermon before they eat their meal. As I visited different states I came to a different conclusion: that it was a process to test the ability of a team to work together in one task—getting to the training. If a group could not manage that there was a good chance the team would not be able to carry out a project and spend the $15,000 effectively. Mary Anderson from Jackson, Ohio, saw it as a necessary discipline, "If we had let one person miss a session, we would have found the other sessions would be underattended and it would have all fallen apart." Even though most of the final projects had a technology component, the skills imparted were useful in more general situations, and that is why I felt the training would serve the MIRA teams well, even if the global downturn slowa the deployment of the networks into rural areas. When I looked at the average scores of the better instructors from the first year, they were generally very high, indicating a degree of satisfaction that counts more than the grumbling I heard. Reactions to the training have been sprinkled through the preceding chapters. What were some of the other common threads in these projects?

Community Technology Centers

With the barriers to computer ownership still high for many people, these centers provide a way for people to learn about ICT. Projects by the U.S. Department of Education, UNESCO, Intel, USAID, the World Bank, and many foundations are being funded presently. However, even as thousands of these centers are opening up, many are languishing or have closed their doors. The labs are easily conceived because non-users, technologists, and funders all seem to understand the potential benefits. However, the sustainability of each project is difficult because many people underestimate the complexity of a successful center. Some of the MIRA centers that were started from scratch quickly encountered the problem of volunteer burn-out, irregular and insufficient open hours, and technical support. Those that were located in an established meeting place or institution such as a senior center or public library had fewer such challenges. The MIRA team in Weippe, Idaho, mapped their own limitations and knew they needed the library to provide security, support, and a welcoming place if people were going to have adequate access. The other resources available to the libraries including state library support, Gates Foundation donations, and Internet connectivity discounts through the e-rate program made this the most popular partner for many MIRA projects. Other centers, such as the Wesleyan Church Youth Center in Weippe, Idaho, benefitted from the connection with the library after the phone company linked the two buildings at no charge. When one Policy Support Organization decided to start a technology center in Arkansas, they called on Peter Miller, an expert from another PSO, Community Technology Center Network, whose sole purpose is to support such endeavors and the growing network of CTCs around the country. I see the technology centers as a permanent, not transitional service for both rural and more populated areas of the United States.

Digital multimedia

The ability to create multimedia works using a variety of programs and techniques was a skill that was valued by everyone who took a course or taught themselves. The Kellogg Foundation has been supporting the Center for Digital Storytelling in their workshops to teach storyboarding, use of Adobe software such as Premiere and Photoshop and QuickTime from Apple. The reaction to the Center's courses was overwhelmingly positive, and many places bought their own systems to start their own digital storytelling centers. Francisco Guajardo feels the power of Apple's iMovie and QuickTime makes a more powerful and less expensive alternative to the Adobe solution. However, many places do not use Apple equipment and must use Windows products. One group of Mayan Indians in Santa Cruz de Quiche, Guatemala, are using Microsoft Front Page to tell their cultural stories. The Southern Rural Development Initiative is rolling their own media using Real Networks and small sound and image files for their "Parables to Policy" project. This is an area that allows amateurs to produce high quality work and even opens up income opportunities as the students in Tionesta, Pennsylvania, found after immersing themselves in digital storytelling. However, the imbalance between the large file sizes and the speed of connections in many rural locales makes the sharing of these files and creations dependent on the exchange of CD-ROMs or physical gatherings such as the Taos Teen Festival. I see all sorts of possibilities in regional festivals for showing digital works from different affinity groups: historical associations, youth groups, community technology centers, and other cultural events. These have the potential for being one of the best cross-generational gatherings associated with technology.

Migration of Youth

At a 1999 Department of Commerce conference I listened to an exuberant school superintendent from a small town in north Texas describe the innovative curriculum her schools provided the students and how many were going to study at University of Texas in Austin or out-of-state and the sorts of high tech jobs they were landing as interns and graduates. When it came time for questions, I asked, "How many are coming back to your town?" She seemed a bit flustered because she did not know, but then she perked up and said they were just glad they had good jobs somewhere. This woman was hard-working, innovative, and civic-minded, but I thought that within two generations her town would be dead unless young talented people could be welcomed back to take her place at the right time.

I asked that question at each MIRA site: what do the young people do after leaving high school (as graduates or dropouts)? There were students who could not wait to leave, and others who wanted to stay but were not satisfied with the job opportunities. Some, through their own MIRA or entrepreneurial activities saw options for working from home, using the Net for making money, or for business opportunities in their home towns. The real question seemed to be how they perceived the options available: Quick-E Mart, U.S. Army, State College, the family farm, Yale, or just hanging out with their friends who were in the same situation. The MIRA experience gave young people a lot of new options and encounters most kids would not have until after college. I was struck by the range of activities and of support focused on teenagers in two places more than the others: Texas and New Mexico. I was impressed by the range of cultural and social ventures that the Llano Grande Center in Texas provided for those students who were not too busy with sports, ROTC, or band. In Taos, New Mexico, the network of agencies working on teen issues was wide and rich. The adults in both places were trying to make the place matter enough for the young people to want to return. In Grant, Nebraska, the high school students I met were leaving reluctantly. Having a job that made use of the skills acquired in college would be an important step in luring them back home.

Jobs and Economic Development

Almost all of the regions are places from which something valuable was extracted and sold elsewhere: pineapples, potatoes, lumber, oil, coal, wheat, corn, molybdenum, gold, or citrus fruit, and if you count the exodus of the young, their skills are marketed outside the area that produced them. It seemed like a classic colonial situation and one that economic planners were trying to break. The solutions economic development officers are trying include attracting branches of call centers, coupon fulfillment centers, small subsidiaries of high-tech firms, or by providing an attractive environment for small business-home office operations or business incubators such as ACEnet in Ohio. Many of these towns have lost population over the past ten years, and those that have gained were generally within commuting distance of a nearer larger town. For instance, tiny Milo, Iowa, was providing housing for people working in Indianola, a larger town but one that retained a rural flavor even though many of its residents were commuting into Des Moines, the capital. This sort of growth provides jobs in construction, for new school teachers, for various services and retail sales, but the towns themselves take on a different character when people live there but work elsewhere. I spoke with one agricultural extension agent who described the suburbanization of his county. "I realized we had crossed a threshold when the feed store told me they were selling more pet food than food for farm animals."

Many individuals I spoke with were running side businesses or primary ones using the Internet. While this strategy will not revive a whole town, it can provide a good income in places where there are few traditional new jobs. Examples include the Hawaiian artists web site in Volcano; the GIS expert working from home in Hilo, Hawaii; pack goat supplies in Weippe, Idaho; the Tionesta students selling digital stories; the small ISP in Imperial, Nebraska; the future Spanish language institute being formed in Elsa, Texas; and the marketing of fine wood products in Orofino, Idaho. MIRA members were associated with groups to aid prospective Internet entrepreneurs in place like Athens, Ohio; Taos, New Mexico; Lewiston, Idaho; Oil City, Pennsylvania; and Indianola, Iowa. Their efforts and experience will help newcomers to online business ventures weather some of the difficulties faced by over-extended dot-bomb companies by helping people manage their budgets and enter the projects with more realistic expectations about measures for success.

Place

In Rooted in the land: Essays on community and place the editor William Vitek says in his essay "Community and the virtue of necessity", "What keeps a community together is the inability of its members to leave, either because of the dangers that lie outside the community--a forbidding desert or an enemy clan, for example--or the ties that lie within the community--traditions, laws, fear of being cast out, rejected, or destroyed." In recent times that has been mitigated (or weakened, depending on how important you feel that is) by technology: automobiles, telephones, outside investments, ties to state and federal assistance programs, but some people do not feel they can leave. The ties to the land are more codified among Indian tribes whose whole existence and culture is tied to their pueblos and reservations. As one Zuni tribal member told me, "This is the only place I can really be a Zuni. I can't be it in Santa Fe or Albuquerque." For some other rural residents the feeling is just about as strong. Their identities are tied to the place.

As I visited each state I asked many people what was important about the place where they lived and why what kept them there. Aside from half-serious answers like "We can't move the farm" most everyone talked about the tranquility, the natural beauty, the perceived lack of crime. But most of all they talked about the people and the relationships. Holly Lesko in Virginia observed, "Wasn't this whole project about getting people together?" And out of that came discussions, trust, friendship, action, and new working relationships. Out of that came the dozens of MIRA team projects.

Are these rural places self-sufficient? What does the question of what self-sufficiency really mean at the start of the 21st century and in the midst of the age of networks? Aren't we all becoming more inter-dependent? Jay Baldwin, an expert on tools for the Whole Earth Catalog editions upset a gathering of back-to-the-landers some years ago. A speaker was congratulating himself on how self-sufficient he had become in setting up his small homestead, and the audience agreed. Baldwin then asked "How did you make your ax?" A store-bought ax didn't count, they objected. What counted was what the homesteader had done with the ax (and the other supplies). Baldwin felt they were denying their intimate ties to the industrial networks (mining the ore for the steel, manufacturing the ax, and retailing it to the speaker) that supplied the tools of personal liberation. The computer networks that are spreading throughout rural America are providing some of us the tools of community liberation while tying us more to the centralized services in urban areas. How we achieve balance is the critical dilemma for us all.

At the end of my visit to Alamosa, Colorado, Ben Beachy, the Mennonite technical volunteer, showed me a digital story called simply valley.mov written by Barbara Musick with technical assistance from Jim Liest from the San Luis Valley in Colorado. It says more eloquently what many MIRA people pondered as they sought to modernize their networks and retain the values of places they held dear.

They are determined not to be victims of a technology-dominated future.

A lot of us came here to escape from citified life, to lose ourselves in unpopulated territory. Valley people ... strive to balance old traditions with their perceived understanding of the world beyond the mountains. That world is focused on the technological age. That world is focused on rapid changes, which, while perceived of as good by those who promote the technology, often creates trauma for those striving for balance ...With illustrated dichotomies in our hip pockets, the workers of our community service group MIRA group came together with the understanding that computers have created the megatechnology of our world and that world is often diminutive or inaccessible in our valley. They came together knowing that computers have the two faces of Janus, one being benevolent and utopian, and the other being the demonic aspect of pollution, surveillance, rate of acceleration, centralization. They knew the valley, in order to survive, must garner its connection to the technological age. They wanted to provide opportunity and mechanism for the valley to succeed. People here should be able to participate in education, economic pursuits, the American way of life without leaving home. The CSO strives to provide democratic access to the knowledge, that shelters the power that sustains the people. The technology may work or may fail; the program may succeed or hot. but the CSO participants have discovered something far greater than the chips and programs they originally envisioned as their mission. They have discovered an interconnection between themselves. An interconnection that supports the relinquishment of territory, and the boundaries of ownership. An interconnection in process that emphasizes humanity more than technology. An interconnection which guarantees the cooperative agent just as the valley guarantees the solace of open spaces.