In November, not two weeks after winning the election and still two months from becoming commander in chief, Barack Obama brought the government into the 21st century. Or at least that was what we were told when he released his first Web video address as president-elect. The clip, billed by some as a modern fireside chat, was embedded as a YouTube video on Change.gov, the incoming administration's Web site. Sitting in a leather chair, framed slightly off center from his chest up, Obama delivered a three-minute talk on the economic crisis, vlog style. This article has been reproduced in a new format and may be missing content or contain faulty links. Contact wiredlabs@wired.com to report an issue. The video quickly racked up hundreds of thousands of views, and within a few days hundreds of blogs were linking to it. Obama's foray into viral video, the story went, heralded the beginning of a new era in government communication and transparency—"Franklin Roosevelt 2.0," in the words of The Huffington Post. The Washington Post proclaimed the advent of the "YouTube presidency." It wasn't long, however, before savvy observers noted what was missing from this and other Obama videos: the chance for ordinary citizens to talk back. The campaign initially disabled the comment function on YouTube and prevented response videos from appearing alongside. A YouTube video without comments, some pundits groused, is more like a monologue than a chat, fireside or not. "I don't see how one-way messages provide any more transparency for the work of the White House or government than the current old-style radio addresses," blogged Ellen Miller, director of the Sunlight Foundation, a government-transparency watchdog group. "Is Obama ready," challenged TechCrunch, "to be a two-way president?" Of course, Obama's transition team had good reasons for disabling responses. For starters, YouTube comments are typically the intellectual equivalent of truck-stop graffiti. (When the team belatedly allowed comments a couple of weeks later, the site was flooded with insights like "USA susks.") Also, his team would have zero control over the potentially critical or embarrassing response videos that users would post next to the address. The real reason, however, was that Obama wasn't actually trying to have a conversation with Americans via YouTube. Like every president before him, he was simply harnessing the latest tools to talk to them, one-way. Technophiles who watched the campaign closely expected more, and now they are putting pressure on the White House to govern with unparalleled transparency and citizen interaction. Dan Froomkin of the Niemen Watchdog Journalism Project and The Washington Post summed up expectations in a blog post calling for Obama to embrace "wiki culture" in which "major policy proposals have public collaborative workspaces." Obama has himself to blame for raising such expectations. During the campaign, he embraced every form of social media. At My.BarackObama.com, supporters could create profiles, talk to each other, and—by election day—plan some 200,000 offline dinners and living room fund-raisers. Users could log in from home to get lists of swing-state voters to telephone; this generated 3 million calls in the final four days of the race. Those efforts were combined with massive database-crunching to identify potential voters who could be approached door-to-door by last-minute canvassers, myself included. As for John McCain's efforts, well, he didn't really have any. According to Andrew Rasiej and Micah Sifry, cofounders of the Personal Democracy Forum and the blog TechPresident, Obama had four times the number of Facebook supporters, 24 times the Twitter devotees, and three times the visitors to his site in the final campaign week. The public watched about 15 million hours of Obama campaign videos on YouTube. Along the way, Obama collected 13 million email addresses, more than a million cell phone numbers, and a half-billion dollars in online donations.

There's also another reason to expect a tech-driven presidency: Obama promised it. He said he would expand government transparency by putting more data up on the Web, streaming meetings live, and letting the public comment on most legislation for five days before he signs it. He said he would bring blogs, wikis, and social networking tools with him into the executive branch—all overseen by a new national chief technology officer. Indeed, Obama's transition site, Change.gov, offers glimmers of a potential digital presidency with its YouTube addresses, issue-based discussion forums, and inside-the-transition videos featuring future cabinet members responding to comments. But turning his innovative campaign and transition into Government 2.0 won't be easy. The nimble Obama startup is about to be absorbed into a stodgy, technologically backward behemoth: the federal government. Ahead are bureaucratic obstacles the campaign never imagined, along with the political land mines that transparency brings. Obama will have to preserve the enthusiasm of his supporters while engaging the larger group of people who either didn't vote for him or didn't vote at all. His task is to rebuild the personal connection that supporters felt they had with Obama the candidate, assuring them that he is listening to them—without being deafened by the cacophony. If he can do that, Obama can alter how the government engages its citizenry and accomplish what he really cares about: his own policy goals. Building that intimacy from the Oval Office will be a delicate and complex task, and just letting "AcidTrout" respond to a YouTube address with "Who's the black guy?!?" isn't going to do it. "One of the things that gives me ulcers is that there are a lot of high expectations," says an Obama aide. "But we're going to have to change how government thinks about the Internet before we can do the things we want to do." Still, Macon Phillips, the campaign's deputy director of new media, who has served in a similar role for the transition, warns: "Day one is going to be a lot different than perhaps day 100." The basement of the General Services Administration building in Washington, with its maze of identical hallways and frosted glass doors, reeks of generic federal bureaucracy. But if the new administration plans to reboot the system, it will find a pair of guides here in Bev Godwin and Sheila Campbell, cheerful doyens of the executive branch's Web strategy. Godwin, director of USA.gov, the federal government's all-purpose information Web portal, and Campbell, head of the government's Web Best Practices Team, know every manacle and chain shackling the government to the 20th century. In a drab conference room one afternoon in late November, they discussed their optimism—and detailed their concerns. For starters, the federal government operates more than 24,000 separate sites, many of them years out of date. "Nobody stepped back and asked strategically, how do we do this?" Godwin says. "Whenever there is a new initiative or program, they put up a new Web site." And the first thing they usually do on that site, she says, is post a bandwidth-hogging picture of the bureaucrat in charge. Godwin and Campbell have been pushing government agencies to treat citizens more like customers, rebuilding their sites to help visitors do things like find loans or obtain passports—rather than serve as static repositories for press releases and personnel photos. "At Housing and Urban Development, for example, one of the missions is to reduce homelessness," Godwin says. "If you go to HUD.gov, can you find shelter? The answer is no." If the government can improve itself in these little ways, they say, great. Don't worry about trying wild stuff, like setting up federal social networks. Many agencies bar employees from even looking at sites like Facebook at work, much less building their own versions.

Progress has been achingly slow. There have been some notable exceptions—like a blog on the Transportation Security Administration Web site, open to comments and manned by five agency staffers, and NASA.gov's numerous social media initiatives, including Twitter feeds from 20 missions and projects. But the successes are rare and isolated. "We know that there are a lot of people advocating for more open government," Godwin says. "We're saying, absolutely, put the data out there. But I think we have to be realistic." For example, many of Obama's online campaign techniques would be impeded by a collection of obscure and well-intentioned rules. Amendments to the 1973 Rehabilitation Act, for example, require that all government Web content be made reasonably accessible—in real time—to disabled users. Also, six months of negotiations between the General Services Administration and Google to establish a federal YouTube channel have stalled over similarly intricate legal issues. Meanwhile, a Clinton-era law called the Paperwork Reduction Act requires that an agency undergo a laborious approval process any time it "surveys" more than 10 people. The result: "Agencies tend to avoid doing these kind of surveys," Godwin says. Would having users submit information to a social network or wiki count as a survey? Nobody knows. Even triumphs like Obama's 2006 Google for Government bill, cosponsored with Republican senator Tom Coburn, have been caught up in red tape. The bill led to the creation of FedSpending.org, a site allowing the public to track federal contracts and grants. Instead of building it in-house, the Office of Management and Budget decided to license something similar from a nonprofit watchdog group, OMB Watch—for just 4 percent of what the government had expected to spend. It was a striking victory for government efficiency, but the process behind the scenes "was extremely difficult," says Gary Bass, executive director of OMB Watch. After floating the idea of donating the system to OMB ("the government can't take things for free," Bass quickly learned), the nonprofit had to sign on as a subcontractor and undergo three rounds, and six wasted months, of bidding before the deal was complete. Changes to what is effectively the president's homepage, WhiteHouse.gov, will encounter similar obstacles. David Almacy, a PR executive and new media consultant at Waggener Edstrom who served as the Bush administration's White House Internet director from 2005 to 2007, recalls that following Hurricane Katrina, he posted the transcript of a speech to the site. In the text, where Bush had directed people to Redcross.org, Almacy helpfully inserted a hyperlink. "Within a few hours," Almacy says, "I got a call from the White House general counsel's office saying I needed to take out the link." Some federal government Web pages, it turns out, are virtually barred from linking to nongovernmental sites to avoid the appearance of endorsing one product or organization over another. The incoming administration is still working to assess the implications of the Presidential Records Act, the post-Nixon legislation requiring the preservation of all White House written communications. But that means that once any page goes up on the White House site, it can't be altered, only archived and replaced, greatly slowing down the process of modifying and enhancing pages. The Obama team was able to sidestep these kinds of troublesome rules on Change.gov, in part because, as a quasi-governmental site, it's not subject to executive-branch restrictions. They were able to post videos on YouTube, link to outside sites, and even publish content under a Creative Commons license, allowing it to be freely shared. When he does arrive at the White House, Obama or his CTO can lift some of the Internet restrictions with the stroke of a pen. Others will require congressional action or clever technology. Even if Obama's tech team gets a free hand to rework the federal webosphere, things can still go awry. Take the 2006 race of Massachusetts governor Deval Patrick. Both David Axelrod, Obama's top campaign strategist, and David Plouffe, his campaign manager, worked for Patrick, a little-known candidate who used Internet-driven grassroots support to win. In a precursor to My.BarackObama .com, the Patrick campaign placed the state's voter list on its Web site, allowing its supporters to download phone numbers and call neighbors. "We believed in people's ability to organize themselves and get involved," says Charles SteelFisher, who ran the campaign's Web operation.

No We Can't Barack Obama wants to transform the way the White House connects with the public. But there are plenty of obstacles standing in his way. A Ban on Endorsements Since the government cannot endorse commercial private organizations, some federal Web pages cannot link externally. Restrictions on Revisions The Presidential Records Act requires the preservation of all written communications, which limits Web page modification. Survey Rules A detailed approval process is required to "survey" more than 10 people. Soliciting user input may fall into this category. Access for the Disabled The Rehabilitation Act requires that all government Web content be made reasonably accessible to those with disabilities. The US Constitution The First Amendment's prohibitions on restricting speech may limit the federal government's ability to filter user comments. Purchasing Rules Federal agencies must follow contracting rules when they make commercial software purchases costing more than a certain amount. License Agreements The Feds can't draw on content from sites like YouTube that require terms-of-service agreements based on state laws. After the election, the governor's team launched DevalPatrick.com to keep supporters engaged. On a MyIssue page, registered commenters could propose, comment on, and vote for legislative ideas. But the administration was immediately blasted when a database feature designed to verify Massachusetts residency was alleged (incorrectly) to reveal unlisted phone numbers. The privacy flap lured a collection of trolls and conspiracy theorists to the site, crowding out earnest discussion on gambling bills and income taxes with 9/11 chatter and religious debates. Critics, meanwhile, said that Patrick's efforts were less about engaging the public than about running a permanent online campaign. Eventually Patrick's Web site recovered, developing a more sophisticated way of moderating comments and creating forums around the governor's plans to reduce property taxes and add public kindergarten programs. The site also allowed people to create grassroots communities to work on issues they cared about. Still, the public isn't exactly burning up the site: The leading vote-getter, a bill to promote fathers' custody rights in divorce cases, had just 1,100 tallies as of mid-December. Offshore wind power, meanwhile, was losing, 16 votes to 15. Obama's team has moved carefully as it transitions from campaigning to governing. Between two wars and an economy in shambles, building an Oval Office social network has not topped the priority list. "Day one, do we need a White House My.BarackObama? I don't think so," says the Obama aide, who was required by the transition press office to speak anonymously. "It's more important to step back and ask, what are the goals for the White House? And I think that making the government more accountable and transparent is more important than getting people to act." To that end, the transition team served up small accountability stuff first. Change .gov supplemented Obama's weekly YouTube addresses with periodic videos from inside the transition process, everything from staff meetings to vlog-type updates from advisers. In early December, Obama's public director of liaison and intergovernmental affairs announced—via video—a Change.gov feature called Your Seat at the Table, through which the transition would post every document received from every interest group and outside person throwing it advice. Users were allowed to comment next to the documents, while the Open for Questions feature let them submit and vote on questions for the transition team. The latter experiment illustrated the double-edged nature of feedback when the Senate-seat-selling scandal involving Illinois governor Rod Blagojevich broke. Supporters began flagging related questions "inappropriate," and then Obama staffers buried the queries. ABCNews.com jumped on the story and the apparent hypocrisy. Obama Transition Web Site 'Open for Questions'—Except on Blagojevich read the headline.