Naomi Alderman: Wikipedia has succeeded where Microsoft's Encarta failed, and seems to be a reversal of the 'tragedy of the commons' (original) (raw)

The news came last week that Microsoft is discontinuing Encarta. The digital encyclopedia has been roundly beaten by Wikipedia. And this is astonishing, because it seems to be a reversal of the much-lamented "tragedy of the commons".

The tragedy of the commons is a term coined by Garret Hardin to describe the way that human populations overuse and undermaintain common resources, leading to their destruction. The evidence of the tragedy of the commons is everywhere, from our over-fished oceans, polluted air and spendthrift use of fossil fuels to the unloved public spaces and graffiti-covered buildings in many cities.

And yet. Wikipedia is written mostly by volunteers and amateurs. Almost all of its pages are open to anonymous editing at any time. According to the tragedy of the commons theory, it ought to be nothing but deliberately introduced errors, articles bigging up someone's mate, drawings of penises and lamentable fan fiction. That's if it contained anything at all: after all, why would anyone volunteer to write non-bylined articles for free? But, astonishingly, they do. Wikipedia has become an awe-inspiring resource, for anything from the literature of the French Renaissance to worldwide uses of mayonnaise, to the Kenyan political system to, indeed, criticism of Wikipedia.

And Wikipedia is much criticised in the media for its inaccuracies. Caitlin Moran complained that, on US election night, Barack Obama's page was replaced with the single sentence "Barack Obama is the new SOCIALIST President of the United States of America". Marcel Berlins was concerned that Wikipedia reported that Senator Kennedy and Robert Byrd had died when they were both very much alive. The Independent reported that: "For a month and a half, a Wikipedia page was reporting that Margaret Thatcher was fictitious."

But these criticisms miss the point. Of course Wikipedia is always going to be vulnerable to vandalism, just as a common area of land is. On a stretch of common land – one that is owned by everyone, not policed by a government or local authority – there will always be people who light fires, drop litter and don't clean up after their dogs. The point is that a responsible citizen with a stake in the land – and in this context that means anyone who uses Wikipedia – won't do that, and will even pick up the odd discarded tin can or crisp wrapper and throw it in the bin.

I used to feel the same tutting sense of disapproval that I detect in many of those who criticise Wikipedia when they discover an inaccuracy. Like a walker finding an overgrown path in a council-maintained park, I'd shake my head and mutter "someone should do something about this" when I found a misspelling or a poorly written passage. But this, of course, is the tragedy of the commons. The someone who should do something is me.

Wikipedia is not Encarta. The unanswerable force of the market has shown that most of us prefer a free and infinitely expandable source of knowledge, even if it's somewhat rough in patches, to a manicured, guarded encyclopedia we have to pay for. And if we can bear the difference in mind, and understand that it's our responsibility to maintain it, the commons may not end so tragically after all.