Guy Kewney as a social object

I can't let this week's post go by without mentioning Guy Kewney, who died last Thursday. When I made the jump from the computer industry into publishing, he was already a 'name'. We were fortunate enough to secure his services as the newshound for Personal Computer World which we relaunched in 1979. Our subsequent success was in no small measure down to Guy's pivotal role in helping to establish it as the premier British PC title. PCW folded just last year. You can read Guy's take on it here.  He subsequently wielded his influence far and wide, but he eventually returned 'home' to PCW as a columnist a few years ago.

Why was he so good? Because he cared about the readers and was averse to industry bullshit, which he could smell from miles away. He was always the one that grasped what people were trying to say and, while the rest of us were still wrestling to digest the facts, he'd work out the flaws in the arguments, conjure up competitors and parallels from his encyclopaedic knowledge of the business and then hit the speaker with politely articulated, but utterly devastating, questions.

The IT world needed Guy and it was lucky enough to get him. Many of us had known for some time that he'd been ill but it was through social networking that we realised he was nearing the end. In an incredibly frank series of blog posts as hunkymouse, he took to describing his illness and his state of mind. It was variously depressing and inspirational but, on March 1st, he ended a post with these words:

I feel that I have little time. Friends tell me encouraging stories of people who spent four years with "one week to live" or talk about how much better I'll feel when the chemo wears off completely. I understand, I think... they want me to have hope, so that they can hope themselves. I just... don't.

This was the trigger for a new social networking presence: a blog dedicated to Guy. The idea was to ask people to reminisce with him while he was still able to enjoy (or not) the comments. The next six weeks saw over 150 people share their stories and thoughts with Guy. He and his family drew enormous comfort from reading the tributes while he was still around and in reasonably good spirits.

You could argue that this was not a social networking activity, it was more like a starburst with Guy at the centre. But it actually triggered contacts between contributors, through Twitter and Facebook and other online places, as well as on the phone and physically. People suddenly found themselves coalescing around the social object which was Guy. Everyone started this journey with a single faceted view of Guy, but many came to appreciate that theirs was not the only view. Insights were generated and, for many, a new understanding of the man emerged.

Then he died.

This was the point at which the Sirius-like blogs of 'guy' and 'hunkymouse' were no longer the centre of this small universe. When word got out, all manner of people started blogging, writing and commenting. They were setting up their own mini-communities of interest relating to Guy. The comments blossomed everywhere. Way too many to track. And especially way too many to 'control'. Fortunately, no-one had set out to control in the first place, merely to facilitate.

We've gathered as many tribute links as possible on the 'guy' blog but, no doubt many have been missed. They can introduce themselves if they so wish but, in this social world,they don't have to.

There's a moral in this reflection about Guy and social networks, and this is that any attempt to control and constrain social networking is doomed to diminish the outcomes. No-one can predict where the connections will lead or what the contributions will reveal. For me, and many others who got swept up in the Guy Kewney story, it has provided more enlightenment and understanding than any amount of conventional communication could have achieved.

RIP Guy. We'll miss you.

Comments

[David Tebbutt]

I think Guy's hunkymouse blog is way more helpful than the one I set up. But thank you for the kind remarks anyway.

Just (a few moments ago) returned from his very moving funeral. We, who thought we knew Guy, didn't. His family did, of course, and it was a revelation.

[Richard Sarson]

David, your initiative and Guy's with his hunkymouse have both given a new dimension to social networking, and a new resource for those who are very ill. Many people will thank you.

[David Tebbutt]

That's very sweet of you Sara. Thanks for writing.

[Sara]

Thanks David for a fitting tribute to a great journo.