and other “online tribes” (O’Neil, 2009). Building on Weber’s (1978) classic categorization of forms of legitimate authority, O’Neil argues that what characterizes the organization of online tribes is the infusion of charismatic authority within what are largely bureaucracies, or organizations defined by rational‐legal authority, though these bureaucracies are more transparent and democratic than the classic type defined by Weber (O’Neil, 2011). (It should be noted that this strange mashup is not limited to peer production, and Boltanski and Chiapello (2005) note that increasing appeals to the inspirational mode of justification and charismatic authority are one of the elements of what they call the “new spirit of capitalism.”) Mixing these forms of authority means these tribes appear to have it both ways: on the one hand, a project like Perl preaches inclusivity and has a host of committees, appointed maintainers, project groups and so on, and thus various formal and informal means of ensuring voices are heard; on the other hand, if Perl founder Larry Wall decides to act against the wishes of the majority and implement a particular major change, his charismatic authority will likely ensure support and acceptance. This contradictory stance is epitomized by the common description of open source project maintainers as “benevolent dictators.” As Kreiss et al. (2011) argue, this means that although peer production projects pride themselves on their opposition to “closed” bureaucracies, they in fact introduce other kinds of closure and opacity, potentially bringing about the kinds of inequality they seek to avoid.
This ambiguity of authority is reflected in cultures of peer production. Much discussion will express a distrust of elite power within the organization, often jokingly called “the cabal,” suggesting a secretive group exercising power with impunity. This use of humor can be seen to work through and playfully challenge the competing forms of authority within these projects (Coleman, 2013, p. 122). As individual projects grow and become more established, the limits of charismatic authority are often tested. As a project’s complexity, diversity, and wider significance increases, so will calls for more transparency and democracy. However, even in Wikipedia and established open source projects, the transition to rational‐legal authority and more democratic forms of governance does not mean charismatic authority disappears. As Dafermos (2012) notes in the context of the FreeBSD project transitioning from an informal selection process to democratic elections for its core team members, the significance of charisma remains: “The persuasive authority of core team members is legitimized mainly through the recognition of the authenticity of their technical charisma by committers.”
The importance of the inspirational mode of justification, and thus the value placed on passion and the justification of charismatic authority, is arguably linked to a key issue facing Wikipedia and several open source projects today, namely the prospects of declining participation and (relatedly) increasing pressures on project members that do stay involved. What happens when the inspiration dries up, or when what once felt like a revolutionary product begins to feel routine? In the case of Perl, an instructive moment in this regard occurred in 1999, when Larry Wall and other senior project members saw that the programming language was losing market share, momentum, and key contributors to competing languages. While some supported developing a charter and thus sought to improve Perl’s prospects by transitioning to a more formalized governance structure, Larry Wall and others rejected this idea, arguing that what was needed was to inspire the community again. Wall’s way forward was chosen, and this resulted in the launch of the Perl 6 project, an entirely new language written from scratch. Once again Wall inspired many others to volunteer their time to a large‐scale, visionary collaborative project with him at the helm, however this time the ambition perhaps outgrew the community’s capacity, and Perl 6 remained in development for years, still requiring a great deal of work before it will stand a chance of widespread adoption. The story of Perl 6 and other examples of mixed success or even failure in the world of open source software reveal the tenuousness of peer production, where inspiration is both a boon and a requirement, and thus may work like a double‐edged sword.
7 Conclusion
This chapter has sought to synthesize existing research with sociological theory in order to shed light on the cultures of peer production. Building on Bourdieu’s field theory, I have argued that attention to peer production as cultural production helps us to understand several key aspects of Wikipedia and open source communities. First, such projects do not exist in a vacuum, and their cultures are tied to notions of autonomy within a broader field of software and media production. Wikipedians enact a form of knowledge production that stands in contrast to certain bureaucratic and commercial practices that they perceive as unsatisfactory, if not “evil.” Likewise, Linux communities and other FOSS actors enact a more autonomous form of software production than, say, the commercial and proprietary operating systems produced by Apple and Microsoft. Second, the core values these projects embrace are related to the forms of reputation or symbolic capital that circulate within them, and this in turn creates hierarchies. Third, these values are enacted and maintained through various forms of socialization and a range of cultural practices from sharing code to sharing jokes. Meanwhile enactment of these values does not come without social costs and blind spots: in particular the belief in meritocracy and openness of these communities can lead to a blindness for inequalities that do exist. Fourth, drawing also on the work of Boltanski and Thévenot, as forms of cultural production these projects are notable for the importance of an affective charge: autonomous peer production projects require that participants feel connected to a larger common purpose.
Although this chapter has limited its focus to peer production in its more autonomous (and well‐known) forms of Wikipedia and open source software, the aim is that this framework will help readers map and analyze the cultures of other peer production projects. What larger cultural field are they situated in? To what degree do they appear to be independent or autonomous, and what kinds of companies or other actors would they distinguish themselves from? In what ways are hierarchies created among participants? What shared values do they have and how are they enacted? Most importantly, how do these various elements common to cultural production – a sense of autonomy, shared social norms, and hierarchies of symbolic power – interrelate?
In addition to benefiting analysis and research, understanding peer production through the framework of cultural production may benefit practitioners. In particular, it may help practitioners think through the problem of gender and racial inequality that endanger open source communities and Wikipedia by alienating new participants, in particular women. As many critics have argued and various researchers have shown, these projects often fail when it comes to living up to their professed liberal value of equality: seen in the framework offered here, what is happening is a classic dynamic of fields, namely a conservatism that favors existing power structures, including existing class and gender inequalities. As Bourdieu argues, determinations of cultural capital (i.e., what constitutes valuable traits, knowledge, or skills within a particular social context) and symbolic capital (i.e., acts of recognizing valuable work or contributions) are never neutral, and often serve to reproduce the power of a dominant class. This can be seen at the level of peer production projects as well, where for example Wikipedia’s culture – wrapped up as it is in the social norm of fiery debate, the celebration of technical skill and the lack of patience for new participants who don’t know or understand all the rules and policies in place – is incredibly unwelcoming for newcomers and in particular women.
Much the same can be said of many FOSS communities. These tendencies were notably nurtured in the early, male‐dominated development of these projects, and by naturalizing such “culture” and demanding that new volunteers adapt to it, these projects are now justifiably facing harsh criticism. The most critical voices would likely argue that the cultures of open source software and Wikipedia are rotten at the core, and this may be true. Despite this, seen in the framework of field theory, I would argue that we should also see some ambivalence here: peer production projects tend to have an inspired, passionate group who codify their shared identity and sense of autonomy in various cultural norms, guidelines, and practices. These projects, like any other form of social action, are not immune to hierarchy and the cultures of these projects will tend to favor those who are in power. However, the conservatism of upholding a project’s original values
