Disconnect in America

At 3 AM the other night, I was restless but strangely motivated. I hopped out of bed, ready to apply for new jobs, read the news and write new posts for my blog. My unexpected insomnia left me with extra time, no distractions and plenty of jittery energy. Unfortunately, once I settled myself at my desk, I hit a major roadblock.

I couldn’t get an Internet connection. Without idealist.org and online Senate job listings, I would have to wait until the workweek to start career searching. I could re-read yesterday’s paper, still lying on our kitchen table, but I couldn’t search for multiple articles on immigration reform. I could write something on my own computer, or even - gasp – by hand, but somehow that didn’t feel as worthwhile as posting it on my blog for general consumption.

Within a decade, my computer and its Internet access have become the cornerstones to most things I consider “productive.” When I was in school, I typed most of my notes, researched primarily through LexisNexus and wrote and saved all of my papers on the computer. At work, I communicate primarily through email, read online articles to stay up-to-date on Farm Bill progress, and save all of my sample presentations and workshop outlines in an Outlook folder. Recently, one of our field staff visited our office and asked to use my computer for a half hour to check email. I said sure, but then found myself completely paralyzed. What could I possibly do during those 30 minutes? I ended up wandering over to my friends’ cubicles to chat, for lack of any more constructive ideas.

People have decried the technical divide in our society for nearly as long as the Internet has been a major component of our lives. What I mostly hear, though, is a debate on computer literacy. I’ve been thinking more about the difference and convenience that home and work Internet access provides. The day after my insomnia attack, for example, I was on vacation but needed to email a people from work. I had to walk over to the library, wait in line for what seemed like ages, only to be limited to 30 minutes on the computer. It took longer than usual to connect and load the pages I needed, so I was down to just over 20 by the time I got started. Another 10 minutes passed as I sent out my notes, leaving me precious few minutes for personal use. I wanted to read my new personal email and write to my grandmother, skim BBC headlines, and, most importantly, search idealist.org for job openings. As you might guess, I only got through the first two of these tasks before my connection automatically shut down. I was on the way home from the library before I remembered the most essential site I should have checked before starting my vacation day – weather.com.

Three years ago, I volunteered at the Women’s Law Project as a telephone counselor. Low-income women in Philadelphia would call in with legal questions, and I would answer as best I could and direct the callers to appropriate social service agencies in the city. Of course, volunteers like me were provided with a big binder about family law and brochures that covered frequently asked questions. All of these answers, though, were available on the Internet. Often, I could not find the brochures or page in my binder fast enough while the caller was on the phone, and I would simply search the family court website or Google a specific question. Many women explained to me that they had tried to find this information themselves, but did not have enough time at the library to find everything they needed.

Searching the Internet takes time. When you have less background knowledge in a particular subject, such as Philadelphia's family court procedures, searching for that information takes even more time. Our callers were mostly single mothers working long hours, who had very little time to search online for legal information. It seemed ironic that I, with no children to support and no abusive relationships, could easily learn about the basic procedures to file for custody, child support, or restraining orders. The women who most needed this information the most had a harder time accessing these answers.

According to Pew’s 2007 survey on American Internet use, only 55% of people with less than a high school education use the Internet. Sixty-one percent of Americans with only a high school diploma use the Internet, compared with 81% of college graduates. Since education is correlated with income, it is difficult to separate the cause and the effect of this separation. For instance, jobs that require higher education more typically involve working at a computer and using the Internet. Such jobs also pay more, so those families are more likely to have a computer at home.

Along those lines, poverty rates are highest in rural communities. People in those areas are also less likely to have Internet access, and even less likely to have broadband (high-speed) Internet access. That same Pew study found that only 60% of rural citizens use the Internet. This is partially reflective of lower overall education levels in rural areas. However, I was recently on a trip in rural western Pennsylvania with a coworker, and we found ourselves deep in email withdrawal despite bringing a laptop with us. We drove for miles around Shirleysburg to find a coffee shop or hotel with free wireless access. Thirty minutes away, we camped out in the parking lot of a Days Inn to mooch from their wireless connection. This never would have happened in a city or suburban community, where every other corner has a café with wireless, and libraries are within walking distance.

It seems to me that the digital divide is magnifying disparities in our society. The Internet has so much potential to even the playing field, through online classes, job opening announcements and general access to information. Today, however, I see a society where the “haves” can conveniently find the answers they need, while those who are less privileged are, as usual, at a disadvantage.