The tragedy of email commons (3 of 3)

For the past couple of months I've configured my Outlook client to automatically insert [Save our in-boxes! http://emailcharter.org] as my email signature. I found this helps me work on my own bad habits. I noticed on multiple occasions, just prior to hitting the Send button, this signature reminded me to shorten the text of my email, avoid open ended questions, remove unnecessary attachments, strip irrelevant prior email thread text, take out unnecessary recipients from cc: line and change the subject line to reflect the content.

There is still plenty of room for improvement in my approach to email, and somehow I am beginning to feel more in control. It feels better. Now if only more of us made an effort.

On the other hand, looking at generation Y, perhaps this will not be an issue in future... Email for them is like fax for many of us.

The tragedy of email commons (2 of 3)

These days I find myself again helplessly staring at hundreds of unopened envelopes deposited in my mailbox daily. There is no magic about receiving these letters. Gone is the anticipation, along with the paper smell, personal handwriting and stamps from far away. About the only thing that still remains is the stress from my inability to promptly respond to all these people writing to me.

The sad part of our modern electronic world is that we all contribute to this tragedy of commons, where commons is the time and attention of the people receiving mail. We find it easy to send an electronic letter, we don't even need to buy a stamp any more. We shamelessly deposit our unorganized thoughts, verbose sentences, unfiltered emotions - often poorly packaged, behind obscure subject lines - in front of others.

For the most part, we don't consider the price our recipients are paying to process our communication. Consider, when you and I receive an email. Even when we don't respond, we spend precious time as we have to notice new email, switch over from whatever we were doing, scan the subject line, often open and scan the content, close or delete it, before switching back to our original task.

If you are interested in more thoughts on this subject consider "How to get better at email: What science tells us" - a recent write up on Quartz.

The tragedy of email commons (1 of 3)

Growing up in 70s/80s I vividly remember the special experience of receiving a letter. The envelope, the stamp, the handwritten address with my name, even the smell of the paper - all emanated magic. Every arriving letter was either a surprise or on a contrary a long awaited communication, preceded with many empty-handed returns from the mailbox and keen awareness of local mail delivery schedule.

I learned early enough to appreciate reciprocity nature of communications. If I wanted to receive a letter from my grandma or from my Australian cousin Paul I had to find the will to write them a letter.

Writing a letter was of course a different experience, not quite like receiving one. It called for the discipline of setting aside time, thinking of the other person, paying attention to the grammar and appropriate style. It could take an hour or more to compose and scribe a letter. I would only do this for a person I cared about, and in most cases I was driven by the hope of getting a letter in response.

One day this simple and beautiful letter exchange experience has changed forever for me.

When I was 17 I founded a Youth Photo Club in my city. As I was looking to connect with other similar clubs across the country, I naively wrote a letter to the largest national youth newspaper at the time, seeking their advice. The editors simply reprinted my letter, complete with my home address.

Over the next several months the avalanche of letters, postcards, telegrams and even phone calls overwhelmed our household. People were reaching out from all corners of our vast country (we are talking Soviet Union in mid 80s) and even from abroad! Some went to length describing their unique life stories, some offered friendship and more, some asked for help.

On the first day, I wrote responses to all 5 letters. On the second day, I wrote responses to 9 letters. On the third day I mailed 18 stamped envelopes. I was beginning to run out of money for stamps, and by the time mailman begun dropping the letters in large bags I was struggling to just read all the letters. I could no longer write back.

This was the first time in my life I felt bad about not being able to respond to each and every letter I received. After all someone took time to be kind enough to write me a letter and affix a post stamp...

(to be continued)