Brian Fitzsimmons
MDST 2010 Exam 2
1.
The Kony 2012 video quickly became a global phenomenon, reaching millions of
viewers with its heart-wrenching tale of kidnapped children, torn families, and child soldiers.
The movement responsible, Invisible Children, now invites us to gather and make 2012 Kony’s
last year at large. With this message, “Kony 2012” enters the realm of digital activism, where
people make use of boyd’s “mediated publics” to congregate, coordinate, and take action for a
specific cause. But how effective is it really? To Shirky, the video embodies “ridiculously easy
group-forming” (Shirky, 2008, pg 54) that can hopefully translate into collective action. But as
Morozov demonstrated in The Net Delusion, just because we can gather does not mean we can
act. This essay takes a pro-Morozov stance on the Kony phenomenon – as a means of digital
activism, the video suffers from oversimplification, encouraging “slacktivism,” and
overestimating the power of mobilization.
Oversimplification is not a crime – it just happens to be embedded in our current “media
environment,” as McLuhan called it. Americans see it everywhere, from movies to the news to
Kim Kardashian’s love life (which is probably most important to many citizens). However, we
must take issue when we apply oversimplification to external environments not our own, such as
Uganda (this issue does not only pertain to media studies; International Relations must tread
carefully when it tries to simplify contexts for genocide, for example). Invisible Children
portrays the conflict in terms the West can understand – good versus evil – because “socially
embedded messages are more valuable” (Shirky, 184). But in doing so, it erases crucial contexts,
not unlike Baym’s social cues, which provide critical information needed to communicate
(Baym, 2010). When it expunges such cues – like Uganda’s abysmal economy and corrupt
government, Kony’s absence from Uganda, the LRA’s pitiful state, and the Ugandans’ own
voices – Invisible Children takes on an “internetcentric” position (similar to Baym’s
technological determinism, but focused on the Internet), placing the technology higher than the
environment (Morozov, 2010). For comparison, consider Hillary Clinton’s Internet Freedom
speech: she preaches “internet freedom” for oppressed populations, but ignores the political,
economic, and social contexts of those populations. An open internet might mean free expression
to Americans, but easier surveillance for oppressed societies – this contradiction, born from
oversimplification and internetcentrism, undermines her entire platform (Morozov, 2010). Kony
suffers from something similar: by manipulating the context or, as John Lanier put it, “reducing”
the situation (Smith, 2010, pg 7), the video may resonate more with Western viewers, but if
action ensues, we will target the wrong factors. Stopping Kony will not bring Uganda into the
light – battling government corruption, ethnic conflict, and economic disparity might. In
Shirkyan terms, the “promise” of Kony 2012 is in fact quite shallow.
Of course, this assumes that the masses would take action at all. Shirky would certainly
see the infinitesimal “transaction costs” of forming a Kony movement as an invitation to
“collective action,” bolstered by the power of social media (Shirky, 2008). Morozov and
Gladwell, on the other hand, would see it as most Americans would: a notification on their
Facebook walls. Enter slacktivism. Slacktivism comes from the idea that, “given enough tweets,
the world’s problems are solvable” (Morozov, 190). It is the shallower, uncommitted, low-risk
cousin of traditional activism, as seen in the Civil Rights Movement (Gladwell, 2010). Kony
2012 exudes slacktivistic themes with its final message: “above all, share this movie online. It’s
free.” If we merely pass this video along, are we actually improving the situation? Sure, we are
perpetuating Shirky’s “shared awareness” of the subject, or knowing that everybody else knows
that everybody else knows, but does that translate into collective action? Coupled with digital
media’s emphasis on narcissism (Times Magazine’s 2006 Person of the Year, after all, was
“You”), it does not. One of the main tenets of collective action is that it “creates shared
responsibility, by tying the user’s identity to the identity of the group” (Shirky, 51). But in our
narcissistic media environment, or as Jean Twenge calls it, the “Age of Entitlement”, we want
our individual identities to shine (Morozov, 187). As Ito et al demonstrated, online genres of
participation are friendship-driven or interest-driven, not morally-driven. In connection with
Baym, our online interactions are shaped by our social identity, and sharing a popular video such
as Kony could definitely boost our credibility. Hence, we spread the video because we want to
show others that we “care” about kids in Africa. If the cute girl next door sees an Invisible
Children banner on your Facebook wall, she will dream of your heroic endeavors to save Uganda
– which is exactly what you want her to think. Slacktivism enters because once Ito’s genres of
participation have been fulfilled, your commitment to the initial cause declines – we think that
Liking the video has actually done something for Uganda, when subconsciously, it has done
something for our ego. It is a win-win for you, not Uganda.
Kony 2012 perpetuates slacktivism in other ways too, most notably in its advocacy of
horizontal organization (Shirky, 2008), where, instead of a ladder, we have a level playing field
of peer production. Henry Jenkins pointed out how effective such organization was in the Civil
Rights Movement (Jenkins, 2010), but back then, they did not have to deal with the temptations
of social technology. When we do, a horizontal structure marvels at its ability to connect more
than its ability to take action – as Angela Davis said, “mobilization [displaces] organization”
(Morozov, 196). Unfortunately, marveling at the technology reduces Shirky’s “motivation,
energy, and talent” needed to produce results, and with less motivation, we start free-riding on
the Tragedy of the Commons - our commitment to stopping Kony shallows, as Gladwell and
Carr said, because we bet that someone else in the horizontal structure will do it (Shirky, 2008).
But when everyone thinks that, we have 10 million Likes, and no saved Ugandan children.
This connects to our third point: Kony 2012 overestimates the power of mobilization.
Again, this reeks of internetcentrism because it “puts the internet…before the environment in
which [it] operates” (Morozov, 111). Invisible Children thinks that if we simply gather online,
our digital presence will translate into physical action. Clinton makes the same mistake – online
expression in itself does not topple dictatorships and bring democracy, because “bits move faster
than thought” (Abelson et al, 2008, pg 12). In other words, online expression may seem
progressive, but our offline cultures and consciousness have yet to catch up. This connects to
Zadie Smith, who demonstrated that what we say online may not resonate with what we say
offline. When we post “Down with Kony!” we never consider the contextual, real-world
ramifications involved; when those ramifications become clear, we are not ready to tackle them.
We only post it to seem progressive. In addition, by sharing the video, we are only creating
“weak ties” (Baym, 2010), whereas activism according to Gladwell is a “strong-tie
phenomenon.” And the more people that mobilize, the less tightly-bound the group is – their ties
are diffused, much like their commitment. With such weak-ties, action is less likely.
Summarily, while ambitious, Kony 2012 suffers from serious setbacks. Its
oversimplification of the issue erases crucial contextual factors that will eventually harm the
campaign. The odor of slacktivism is pungent when its number one priority is to “share the
movie” and perpetuate horizontal organization. And finally, it overstresses mobilization, in the
hopes that somewhere among the crowd, action will brew. As a serious campaign, it could take a
few pointers from the excellent meme of slacktivism shown below.
2.
Now that the Internet has penetrated authoritarian states, Western governments and media
alike are predicting a new wave of democratization. They believe that with the Internet,
information will flow unhindered and bring enlightenment to oppressed peoples – they will feel
“empowered,” as York puts it, and naturally call for popular sovereignty. Of course, such a line
of thinking exudes internetcentrism, or the placing of the Internet above its contextual
environment (Morozov, 111). Worse, it even delves into Morozov’s cyberutopianism, or the
belief that digital technology can do no wrong. Secretary Clinton unfortunately joins the ranks of
cyberutopianists with her Internet Freedom speech, which praises the Internet as the bane of
dictators, the harbinger of democracy. What she and the media do not consider, though, is the
social shaping perspective (Baym, 2010) needed to form an Internet foreign policy. We must
look at the distinct political, economic, and cultural “microhabitats” involved (Bogost, 2011, pg
6) and the reciprocal relationship they have with technology. Internet Freedom is simply too
vague and contradictory to be effective, and it is laced with Western technonarcissism
(Vaidhyanathan). Thus, as they stand, Clinton’s policies will not bring the expected wave of
democracy because they are too incongruous, technonarcissistic, and deterministic. The
government needs to take a social shaping stance on such issues, for the Internet is not a tool for
anything, democracy or otherwise – it is merely a tool that adapts to and alters the environment
in which it is embedded.
First, Clinton’s proposals detract from the goal of Internet Freedom when they leave too
much to speculation; her policies need to be what McLuhan called “hot media,” giving copious
amounts of detail so as to minimize viewer participation and interpretation. (Policies that have
blanks to fill will certainly fail, for a dictator might fill them differently than a Congressman.)
The main inconsistency is simply: what is “internet freedom?” Is it the freedom to connect, as
Shirky might say? To “hang out, mess around, or geek out” in the words of Ito et al? Or is it the
freedom to censor, propagandize, and conduct surveillance, all three of which the Internet has
certainly abetted (Morozov, 2011). When looking at different microhabitats, of course the
microecology, or the method of studying it, will differ – in the same way, the uses of media in
disparate contexts will differ depending on cultural history and politics, and so we must alter our
method of studying them accordingly. As Kira Allmann said, you cannot generalize the use of
social technology (Allmann, 2012). For example, Mark Zuckerberg proclaimed that “privacy is
an evolving social norm,” and that transparency is best (Vargas, The New Yorker, 2010). In the
American microhabitat, maybe. But to a dissident blogger in Iran, transparency equates to
imprisonment or worse. Furthermore, if we instill “internet freedom” in, say, Belarus, thanks to
Baym’s storage and reach, the government would have even more data investigate and more
people to propagandize. Dictators are not as inept as the West believes – they know how to adapt
to new methods of control. For example, “governments have learned that they can still
manipulate online conversations,” with techniques like the “Spinternet,” which turns supposed
“internet freedom” into mediated publics of half truths and cants (Morozov, 116). Hugo Chavez
embodies this idea perfectly, who uses his far reaching and interactive Twitter account to
connect with the masses and spread his word – internet freedom at its most democratic, as the
people of Venezuela believe. In other words, it is true that “there are more ways to spread more
ideas to more people than at any moment in history” (Clinton, 2010), but authoritarians know
that too. Per the Streisand Effect, or the idea that blocking something only fuels curiosity, they
are merely guiding online discussion, not censoring it. Just look at China’s “fifty centers,” for
example, who manipulate the online discourse to favor the Party (Morozov, 130). Clinton does
not realize that dictators know how to use internet freedom to their own advantage: “after all, it is
Hugo Chavez, not Hillary Clinton, who is tweeting” (Morozov, 122). Ignoring the social and
political factors of authoritarian states, believing that since the Internet is our invention, it will
follow our will, just shows how inept we are.
The problem is that the web is a “collective intelligence” (O’Reilly, 2005), and because
dictators have much more time and money to spend “messing around” with web technologies
than domestic dissidents (Ito et al, 2008), they can add their own “intelligence” to the collective
and utilize the internet as they see fit. As Morozov said, “in virtually all cases, the state…is
better positioned to take advantage of this new decentralized environment” (136). This is why
social shaping is so detrimental to an internet freedom policy – just as technology empowers
bloggers and dissidents, dictators can morph the Internet into their own Spinternet for fifty
centers to fuel their regimes.
Our next points illustrate America’s cybernaiveté, technonarcissism, and
internetcentrism. “Internet Freedom” has its own American bias - we believe we can simply
transfer our democratic ideals to technology and drop it in a vacuum. For example, even when
Nicholas Thompson cautioned against assuming Twitter was responsible for the 2009 Green
Movement, CNN had the headline “Twitter Revolution” written beneath him (Lecture, 4/5). We
employ Vaidhyanathan’s “confirmation bias,” or the seeking of familiar patterns in data, when
dealing with internet freedom because we want it to succeed. American ideals gave birth to this
“decentralized, organic growth of ideas” (Burners-Lee, 2000), so naturally, we think the Internet
will spread those ideas. This embodies Morozov’s cybernaiveté.
Moreover, per social shaping, we all know that what one country makes of the Web,
another will not. When we believe that the Internet will bring democracy to oppressed peoples,
we consider the tool above the environment (internetcentrism). Collective action requires a
balanced bargain, promise, and tool usage (Shirky, 2008) but internetcentrism puts the tool above
all else. Ignoring the Internet’s environment is like studying an Anglerfish in broad daylight – we
may marvel at its bioluminescence, but we will never understand why or how it functions. To her
credit, Clinton acknowledges that digital “tools are also being exploited to undermine human
progress and political rights” and that “on their own, new technologies do not take sides in the
struggle for freedom and progress” (2010). But to her discredit, she insists that the United States
does. In other words, because the US proclaims internet freedom for all, naturally, its own
invention will make it so. This is technonarcissism at its worst. We cannot delude our policies
will such thinking if we hope to infuse democracy abroad. This completely ignores the
environment’s ability to shape the technology. Only when we accept that not every society is as
democratically inclined as ours, that not every population demands sovereignty, will we have a
chance to spread Western ideals. To not do so would create resentment and conflict – as it
already has in the Middle East. The best conditions for democracy occur when we
“educate…those running websites that oppose the government” of the social shaping involved
(Morozov, 141). They too need to realize that technology itself will not bring democracy. After
all, as Mona Eltahaway made clear, revolutions end with people (Lecture, 4/5).
In essence, having contradictory policies that ignore context and place the tool above the
environment will not promote democracy. Internet Freedom is simply too ambiguous to be taken
seriously. Internet freedom for whom? Ahmadinejad? And until we realize that the web is not
inherently democratic, does not spread American ideals, we will simply supply regimes with
further ammunition to censor and propagandize. Revolution only occurs when the tool is
domesticated (Shirky, 2008), but each society domesticates the tool in different ways.
3.
Facebook, Google, Apple, and Microsoft are locked in a deadly battle over who will
become the operating system of our lives, or the invisible platform on which we perform our
everyday activities. Already, each contestant has significant advantages in certain microhabitats,
or “small, specialized environments within the lager ecosystem” of media (Bogost, 2011, pg 6).
For example, Facebook dominates in connectivity and social networking; Google reigns supreme
in Web navigation; Apple has cornered the market of increasing “appliancization” (Zittrain,
2008), or non-generative devices; and Microsoft rules over 90% of PC computation. While
successful in their own niches, these companies seek to control the entire digital ecosystem, akin
to AT&T and the telephone ecosystem in the 20th century (Wu, 2010). However, because digital
media are now so engrained within our culture (Digital Nation), having one provider for the
operating system of our lives would be deeply unsettling. Should a clear winner emerge, we
would be forced to see the world through its lens, and the Internet would enter the “closedness”
era of Tim Wu’s infamous “Cycle,” becoming more appliancized (Zittrain, 2008) and thus
inhibiting the “messing around” and “geeking out” that has characterized the Web for so long
(Ito et al, 2008). To mitigate the demise of smaller businesses and generativity, government
should ensure that both net neutrality and Zittrain’s “endpoint-to-endpoint” argument stay alive,
while keeping somewhat aloof under Wu’s “Separation Principle,” which I will describe later on.
These steps will ensure that one of the four competitors does not become the “Master Switch”
that can determine our coexistence with the digital landscape (Wu, 2010).
The first worrisome concept of having a sole operating system is that it would control the
lens through which we view the world. This is one of the main concerns of Vaidhyanathan’s The
Googlization of Everything, which purports that the growing “trust bias” in these companies (he
of course focuses on Google, but his ideas apply to the others as well) will desensitize us to other
ways of knowing (Vaidhyanathan, 2011, pg 59). In essence, Google’s algorithms feed us what
we want to see – but because it is Google, we consequently think the results are the truth
(Vaidhyanathan, 44). For example, Jenna McCarthy thinks vaccinations cause Autism because
she found such as result on Google, even though many scientists have said otherwise.
Unfortunately, an operating system would accentuate our “confirmation biases,” giving us
patterns of data that only fit our modes of thinking because it wants to placate us, making us
better shoppers. As a result, we lose perspectives that challenge our way of knowing and force us
to be more open-minded. We reduce our ideologies to “techno-fundamentalism,” or the belief
that technology is always right and can fix everything (Vaidhyanathan, 40) – similar to Baym’s
technological determinism, which accredits technology as the impetus for social change. But
both ideologies fail to see the human factors involved, for behind each line of code are the
“affordances,” or inherent biases, given to it by the programmer (Morozov, 296). When we do
not consider these affordances, we come to accept the company’s views as true, thus
homogenizing cultural perspectives.
We have to consider who distorts the lens too, for technology is not a separate entity
itself, but instead a tool that responds to human input – some more than others. Paul Lazarsfeld
labeled such a class as “opinion leaders:” elite who influence our views of the media and world
around us (like Rush Limbaugh or Jon Stewart, for example, who ironically are now part of the
media). Following the Power-Law Distribution though, only a few actually influence opinions
and distort the lens, so we must wonder how their biases are involved. For example, Google’s
algorithms follow registered Google users (Gmailers, Youtubers, etc) more, so their impact on
search results is greater (Vaidhyanathan, 67). Resultantly, “when the major channels for moving
information are loyal to one party, its effects, while often invisible” will shape the lens to the
singular party’s biases (Wu, 24). As McLuhan might say, whoever controls the medium controls
the message.
The distortive biases usually come out as the company’s default settings, which boyd and
Hargittai posit are rarely changed by users (2009-2010). The “choice architecture,” or structure
and order of choices, greatly influences our decisions (Vaidhyanathan, 88), so if we see that all
the default settings are already bubbled in, we are less likely to change them. For example, as a
hacker, Zuckerberg lauds openness and transparency (Vargas, The New Yorker, 2010).
Consequently, Facebook’s default settings maximize publicity. Of course, anyone could change
them, but easier said than done, for “if a system is designed to privilege a particular
choice…people will tend to choose that option more…” (Vaidhyanathan, 88). Again, this
reduces to techno-fundamentalism, or even better, humanitechno-fundamentalism, for who are
we to argue with the makers of Facebook? If these are the default settings, they must be there for
a reason, right? Unfortunately, this thinking plays into the hands of whoever distorts the lens,
thus enhancing their control over our perspectives.
Next, with only one operating system, the Internet would enter the closed portion of Wu’s
Cycle (the oscillation of openness and closedness of new technology (Wu, 2010)). In fact, we
have already seen this to some extent with Apple, which has championed appliancized devices
like the iPhone and iPad (Zittrain, 2008). Essentially, if the Internet becomes appliancized,
“those who control the tethered appliance can then control the behaviour undertaken with the
device” (Zittrain, 107). Updates and improvements would no longer come from the peripheral
endpoints, but from the central server (Zittrain, 106). As the sole disseminator of improvement
then, the company would have a monopoly on the progress of technology (Wu, 2010). For
example, with little to no user input, imagine having a “Beacon” fiasco every year. Not only that,
but the company would vigilantly squash any attempts to replace them per the Kronos Effect
(Wu, 2010). Furthermore, closedness implies less privacy because “tethered appliances have the
capacity to relay information about their uses back to the manufacturer” (Zittrain, 109).
Googlization of Everything describes privacy as the method of how we manage our reputations
(87), so not only would the operating system have more data about us, but it would effectively
control how we handle it. And since offline now equates to online (Baym, 2010), this effect
would seep over the digital edge (i.e. with Loyalty Cards and Supersaver memberships).
This is certainly disconcerting, which is why government needs to be a guiding force.
First, it needs to ensure that net neutrality remains intact – certain packets of data should not be
able to pay their way to the top. Should net neutrality fail, Shirky’s “Long Tail” would diminish,
for those with the money (media conglomerates) could effectively crowd out smaller packets and
lessen their viewership and perspectives. In addition, the victorious company would undoubtedly
try to prioritize its packets, thus imposing its distortive lens even further. The government also
needs to keep Zittrain’s “endpoint-to-endpoint” argument alive (31). This will let users add their
own improvements, retaining generativity and acting as a check against appliancization and
central updates. For example, if the company imposes something like TiVo, we should be able to
create something like Skype (Zittrain, 59). This effectively promotes peer production and
editing, keeping the Internet’s important horizontal structure.
But the government cannot overstep its bounds – it needs to follow Wu’s Separations
Principle, which keeps the winning company from vertically integrating all three layers of the
Internet – the cables, protocols, and applications – and the government from favoring a certain
contestant (like Google, for example, which is unsettlingly close to Obama) (Wu, 304). This
would ensure that the Long Tail still has a fighting chance while minimizing the monopolistic
effects of having one operating system.
Of course, any regulation may harm different Internet features, but we cannot rely on the
firms to do the right thing – their main goal is to make money (Vaidhyanathan, 40). Having a
single operating system of our lives would certainly be more convenient, but the costs would be
too great.
4.
Analog media read signals as continuous waves, as they were when they were emitted by
the object being recorded. Digital media break these waves into discreet 1s and 0s, which
represent components of the wave that can then be manipulated by computers.
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