Many associations have launched online communities in recent years. The pitch was compelling: give members a space to connect, share knowledge, and engage between events. A platform where peer learning could happen organically and relationships could form without waiting for the next conference.
But for most, the result has been underwhelming. A forum that looked promising at launch and slowly became a ghost town. A few enthusiastic early posters, then silence. Members who signed up but never came back.
In a recent Sidecar Sync podcast conversation, Ernie Svenson shared what he's learned running a thriving online community for solo and small firm lawyers. Ernie is a former New Orleans litigator who left Big Law nearly two decades ago and now teaches attorneys how to streamline their practices with technology and AI. His membership community has become a space where lawyers actively engage, learn from each other, and keep coming back.
His takeaway on why most communities fail: the platform isn't the problem. The approach is.
Ernie uses Circle for his community, but he's clear that the tool itself isn't the magic. Facebook groups, Slack channels, association-built forums—these can all technically host a community. But having a space doesn't mean you have a community.
What makes a community work isn't the software. It's what happens inside it.
Ernie sees Facebook groups as a cautionary tale. They're chaotic. Too much noise, no curation, hard to build real trust. People are reluctant to share openly when the environment feels unpredictable.
A well-managed community platform offers something different. There's a login wall that creates psychological safety. Conversations can be curated and organized. Members feel comfortable sharing more because they know who's in the room and what the norms are. That's hard to replicate in the wild of public social media.
But none of that matters if the community sits empty. And that's where most associations get stuck.
This is where association communities most often fall short. The platform gets launched with optimism, maybe a few discussion prompts, and then the team waits for members to show up and engage.
They don't. Or they do once and never return.
Ernie learned through trial and error that a community requires active human investment. Someone—or a few people—bringing consistent energy. Not just moderation. Facilitation.
That means connecting members to each other directly. Jumping into conversations to keep them moving. Having one-on-one interactions that make members feel seen. Being the spark that gets people talking.
As Ernie put it, somebody has to be the face of that community. They have to bring energy to it. That's a skill, and it's different from managing a forum or answering support tickets.
His AI chatbot helps by handling straightforward questions, which frees him up to focus on higher-value engagement. But you can't automate the human connection piece. Someone has to show up, consistently, with intention.
Ernie runs twice-weekly virtual meetups where lawyers in his community discuss AI tools and practice challenges together. The format matters less than the dynamic: members learning from each other, not just absorbing content from an expert at the front of the room.
When someone shares a problem, others chime in with how they solved it. Misconceptions get corrected in real time. Workarounds get shared. Confidence builds because members see people just like them figuring things out.
Ernie described it this way: members know this isn't just him telling them the way the world is supposed to be. It's a group of lawyers in the same boat, working through the same challenges. That, he said, is the secret ingredient.
Peer credibility is powerful. Members trust insights from people facing the same problems more than top-down guidance from experts or vendors. When a fellow practitioner says "I tried this and it worked," that carries weight in a way that polished content from headquarters often doesn't.
Associations can create this same dynamic. But it requires intentional design. Launching a forum and hoping people post isn't a community strategy. Building regular touchpoints where members interact directly with each other is.
Ernie shared a tactical insight that's easy to overlook: getting members to actually fill out their profiles.
In the beginning, members in his community didn't bother. Profiles were sparse—maybe a name and a photo, nothing more. That made it harder for people to connect because nobody knew anything about each other.
He fixed this by making profiles part of the onboarding experience. Lesson two in the course new members take when they join is about why a good profile matters. He showed examples of members with rich, interesting profiles. One member is a DJ. Another is a juggler. Others have compelling headlines that make you want to learn more.
The message wasn't "you must share this information." It was "look how interesting these people are—you want to be discoverable like them."
Once members see that sharing leads to better connections, they participate. Ernie said people fill out their profiles now. They didn't before.
It's a small change with a big effect. Associations can apply the same psychology. Show members what good looks like, make it part of the natural flow of joining, and let social proof do the rest.
One insight from Ernie that associations should pay close attention to: online communities can make live events better, not replace them.
If members have already gotten to know each other online before an in-person event, the event itself becomes richer. They're not starting from scratch. They've already built rapport through conversations and shared experiences in the community. Meeting face-to-face becomes a continuation of an existing relationship rather than an awkward first introduction.
And after the event, the conversation continues online instead of dissipating. That electric feeling of leaving a great conference doesn't have to fade within a week. It can be sustained if the community infrastructure exists to hold it.
Ernie's suggestion: use the online community as a lead-up to live events, with content and conversations that prime members for what's coming. Then use it as a continuation afterward, keeping the discussions and connections alive.
This creates ongoing engagement rather than isolated spikes. The annual conference becomes one moment in a longer rhythm, not the only moment members interact all year.
One of Ernie's observations about building momentum: rather than launching to everyone at once, he starts with a smaller group of engaged members and lets interest build from there.
The psychology is simple. When something feels exclusive or earned, people pay attention. When early participants start talking about how valuable the experience is, others take notice. The dynamic shifts from pushing people to participate to people asking how they can get involved.
As Ernie described it, a lot of people will then get curious and say, "Well, I want to be part of that group."
Associations can apply this approach when rolling out new community initiatives. Pilot with a smaller group who are already enthusiastic. Let them shape the experience and become advocates. Then expand access as momentum builds.
This isn't about excluding members. It's about building something that works before scaling it. A community that launches to everyone with low energy often stays low energy. A community that launches to a core group with high energy has a better chance of sustaining that energy as it grows.
Online community isn't a feature you launch. It's a commitment you make.
The platform matters less than the facilitation. The content matters less than the connections. Associations have a built-in advantage here: members who already share a professional identity and a reason to connect with each other.
The question is whether you're investing the human energy to activate that potential or just hoping the platform does the work for you.
The communities that thrive have someone bringing the spark. They have members learning from each other in real time. They have design choices—like onboarding flows and profile prompts—that make participation feel valuable from the start.
None of that is a technology problem. It's a leadership one.