Monthly Archives: October 2015

The #poliecon of Social Media and Surveillance: They are watching you watch others.


Layered surveillance through mass media. GIF created by Kotutohum. Find their tumblr blog here:

I suppose I should begin with a (very) brief introduction to the study of political economy (from the novice perspective) and then draw out its many connections to how we exchange and produce (big)data through our use of social media (Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, etc.). As far as the development of poliecon in the social sciences is concerned—we begin with Hegel and Marx/Engels. So prepare your head for a quick review of the history of humanity. Ready? Go!

Hegel developed the philosophical concept of dialectics in history. He idealized history as the production of knowledge (thesis) that was then challenged by another form of knowledge (antithesis) and through conflict and debate formed a new body of knowledge (thesis). Dialectics would continue to cycle like this in a back and forth tension between bodies of knowledge until we reached the pinnacle of all knowledge—the perfect society. The notion of a “perfect society” is very well challenged in our era of academic thought. However, this inspired Karl Marx to (dialectically) approach the development of historical materialist methodology which featured dialectic thought in a more empirical fashion (the development of these thoughts led to a fissure in academic thought between the idealists (Hegelian) and the materialists (Marxist).

Karl Marx grounded his research into the development and history of capital (and capitalism). Through his empirical studies he theorized that the mode of production was the foundation of (just about) everything in society. This was the material base from which the superstructure arises. The superstructure is the heterogeneous masses of ideological thought (politics, law, social relations, etc.). It is from the superstructure, which is coordinated by the mode of production (and some argue, mode of exchange), that we get the (unstable and constantly changing) understanding of value. Furthermore, if the mode of production were to change (as it is certainly done in this case), the superstructure would change, along with the meaning of social relations and formations.  It is from this conception of value, as understood by political economy, that I want to spring from to understand how we exchange (big)data through the use of social media. I will use Facebook as the overarching example, because at this point, we all have an intimate knowledge of Facebook. Also, Facebook owns other social media platforms (such as Instagram). It is certainly the current largest social network site.

In order for the entire architecture (both physically and digitally) of Facebook (and other forms of social media) to exist there needs to be value generated for information (big data). Facebook is a capitalistic enterprise that seeks to generate profit from such information. Because of this, Facebook works to proliferate and expand its user base.  The more Facebook’s user base proliferates, the more data they have to draw from.  I am going to highlight that Facebook achieves all of this through two fundamental forms of surveillance: participatory surveillance and capital surveillance.

First value must be generated. Value is generated for big data through its production and consumption. Before we can understand how value is created we need to talk about the prosumer. In the context of Facebook, the user produces and consumes the user-generated content and metadata that is then used as big data in aggregate. So essentially, producer and consumer are collapsed into the user prosumer (Cohen 2008:7). Value is generated because the fruits of the prosumer—data through biography, interaction, and Internet usage—are sold to advertisers who then feed it back into the system as targeted advertisements. According to Fuchs (2012), the prosumer is packaged, commodified and sold (146).

Fuchs observes,

“Facebook prosumers are double objects of commodification. They are first commodified by corporate platform operators, who sell them to advertising clients, and this results, second, in an intensified exposure to commodity logic. They are permanently exposed to commodity propaganda presented by advertisements while they are online. Most online time is advertisement time” (146).

This is obviously problematic. I think it is also pretty important that we acknowledge that the role of prosumer positions the Facebook user as a free labour commodity. Cohen (2008) asserts, “Web 2.0 models depend on the audience producing the content, thus requiring an approach that can account for the labour involved in the production of 2.0 content, which can be understood as information, social networks, relationships, and affect” (8). In this process of production, Facebook repackages user-generated content and sells the data to generate intense profits (in the billions range). The user prosumer remains unpaid in this exchange. Interestingly enough, through my own work in qualitative research, those who participated in my research believed that use of Facebook’s services qualified as a fair exchange for their data. I think an apt thread of thinking that could resolve these problems, van Djick (2012) observes, “Connectivity is premised on a double logic of empowerment and exploitation” (144). With this noted, I would like to focus on the production, consumption and monetization of user-generated content.

The content produced and consumed by the user prosumer is organized through two layers of surveillance. The first layer of surveillance, is participatory surveillance. Albrechtslund (2008), in trying to address the overwhelming dystopic metaphors implicit in the discourse and study of surveillance, he explains that use of hierarchical models of surveillance (like the big brother and panopticon) obscures important sociological processes that occur through the mediation of social media (8).  Furthermore, it treats users as passive agents, unable to resist the oppressive and repressive forces of the Big Brother.  He attempts to frame surveillance as a mutual, horizontal process that empowers users through the sharing of information and creation of elaborate autobiographies. Albrechtslund elaborates that social media offer, “new ways of constructing identity, meeting friends and colleagues, as well as socializing with strangers” (8). In this understanding of social media, the subject is not a passive agent under the oppressive gaze of big brother, but an active subject pursuing empowerment. Furthermore, Albrechtslund frames user-generated content specifically as sharing, not trading. However, in doing this, he ignores that these social media platforms are constructed, shaped and owned by capitalist corporations seeking profit. This is where the second layer of surveillance becomes important—capital surveillance.

During the process of the user prosumer engaging in participatory surveillance, or in other words producing and consuming user-generated content that they share with others, the capitalist captures that data and repackages it to be sold to advertisers. They do this through complicated algorithmic computer software which than stores the data in a large architecture of computer hardware, optic wires, and servers. The fruits that become available through participatory surveillance are commodified (along with the prosumers) and then traded to produce capital. This layer, the hierarchical and oppressive model of surveillance, organizes and shapes how user prosumers generate content. Thus van Djick’s concept of the double logic of connectivity is realized. What is problematic here is that much of capital surveillance is rendered opaque or invisible to the user—who only sees the participatory aspects and the advertisements (repackaged user-generated content).  Also problematic, is that this entire process is automated–though this note will not be taken up in this article.

It is important to note that participatory surveillance is not typically a capitalist endeavour. Cohen writes, “The labour performed on sites like Facebook is not produced by capitalism in any direct, cause and effect fashion… (it is) simply an answer to the economic needs of capital” (17). So where the user prosumer “shares” their production of user-generated content, the capitalist “trades” it. These are two interconnected, though fundamentally different, processes. We, the user prosumers, don’t often recognized the capital forms of surveillance occurring, because we are so intimately involved in the participatory forms of surveillance. This, I believe, is the root to our apathy about the surveillance issues surrounding social media like Facebook. What needs to be devised next is how we can package these theories in a popular form and export them to those who are shaped by these forms of exploitative commodification. It is the work of social scientists to understand, and then to shape, the world around them.

Big brother is watching you watch others. GIF created by Kotutohum. Find their tumblr blog here:


Another lesson we should take from this is that not all surveillance is evil.  We do not live in an inescapable dystopian society.  To say this, we obscure a lot of actual practices of surveillance that are beneficial.  We also render the notion of resistance as a practice in futility.  Surveillance is a neutral phenomenon that is used for better or worse by a plethora of different corporations, governments, non-governmental organizations, activists, and regular everyday people.  But in saying this, we can’t ignore the potential abuse and exploitation that may come from the use of surveillance practices to increase the flow of Capital.


Albrechtslund, Anders. 2008. “Online Social Networking as Participatory Surveillance.” First Monday 13(3). Retrieved Oct 9, 2015 (

Cohen, Nicole S. 2008. “The Valorization of Surveillance: Towards a Political Economy of Facebook.” Democratic Communique 22(1):5-22.

van Dijck, José. 2012. “Facebook and the engineering of connectivity: A multi-layered approach to social media platforms.” Convergence: The International Journal of Research into New Media Technologies 19(2):141-155.

Fuchs, Christian. 2012. “The Political Economy of Privacy on Facebook”. Television & New Media 13(2):139-159.


We are always partially embodied and disembodied.  As much as online gaming seems to be a travel to the virtual--in the actual world, our physical bodies are still working.

Cyborgian Heroes: Embodiment in/out of World of Warcraft

The contemporary social playground, otherwise known as the Internet or cyberspace, has allowed the cultural cyborg metaphor to become much more concrete as people (heroes or players) embed themselves into large and complex virtual worlds. Some of these virtual worlds are meant to be a game with teams competing for supremacy in the pixelated world spread across the player’s HD computer screens. Others, such as World of Warcraft (WoW), are immense worlds filled with cultures, civilizations, guilds, monsters, dungeons, and quests for the heroes to interact and play in. This paper will focus specifically on the massively multiplayer online role playing game (MMORPG) World of Warcraft, using the concepts of Mizuko Ito in Virtually Embodied: The Reality of Fantasy in a Multi-User Dungeon to demonstrate that players are simultaneously physically embodied in the “real world” and virtually embodied in the World of Warcraft. In the era of the cultural cyborg there can be no strong distinction between the real and the virtual, rather, the virtual is but a mechanical extension of the human consciousness (Ito 341).

In order to augment the somewhat dated applications of Mizuko Ito’s concepts, I would like to utilize Brenda Brasher’s creative and innovative re-interpretations of Haraway’s cultural cyborg metaphor. Donna Haraway, a historian of science, writes in her famous Cyborg Manifesto, “a cyborg is a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction” (Haraway). To extend the cultural cyborg as a metaphor for humans we must expand our definition of culture. Brenda Brasher elaborates, “Technology is more than just artifacts… Technology is culture… Technology is an epistemology, a way of knowing in which new technologies materialize the most plausible response to problems that arise” (814). Brenda Brasher further elaborates, “A quasi-human self, cyborg-identity is fed by the technological organization of contemporary life as well as by the material products of technology” (815). The cultural cyborg metaphor is incredibly useful to deepening our engagement with the culture of virtual worlds and the physical bodies that extend themselves to interact in those virtual worlds.

World of Warcraft is a MMORPG “set in a ‘high-fantasy world’ in which players pay a monthly fee to create and play characters of different ‘races’ (orcs, dwarfs) and ‘classes’ (mage, warrior, priest)” (Golub 27). Characters or heroes begin at level one and work their way up the level tiers (gaining new abilities, virtual material wealth and equipment) through fighting monsters and completing quests from non-player characters (NPCs). Upon loading up the WoW computer program, you log in and create a character—choosing a race, class, and customizing your appearance. Then you are brought into a server—an immersive virtual world which Alex Golub, a WoW ethnographer, describes as,

The World of Warcraft is a beautiful and complex three dimensional environment, featuring grim lava-filled hell dimensions, verdant jungles, icy tundra, and a variety of other physical environments. The sun rises and sets; it rains and snows. Dust storms kick up. From the clever visual rendvois to Gnomeregan and the Ironforge tram built into the architecture of Mimiron’s wing of Ulduar, to the smoldering aftermath of the battle of the Wrathgate, the beautiful and unique world that Blizzard has carefully hand-crafted is an important part in creating a realistic and compelling world for its inhabitants. Raiders and more casual players of World of Warcraft experience these environs as rich and immersive (34).

The immersive virtual World of Warcraft is not without a history in the culture of gaming—its predecessors are the multi-user dungeons (MUDs), which were text based RPGs that encompassed an immersive world without the visual and audio components seen in WoW.

Mizuko Ito conducted much of her research on MUD culture, which according to her, had began to gain in popularity in the 1980s, usually around a fantasy theme (333). This paper will seek to apply some of the concepts she used to describe virtual and physical embodiment in MUDs to heroes in WoW. MUDs were completely text based games, Ito described, “As a player on an LPMUD, what you see on your computer monitor is text that describes the environment and other characters in the environment, as well as the action that you and others are performing” (333). Player’s perform actions to interact other players and the world at large by typing commands into their keyboard (‘north’, ‘east’, ‘south’, ‘west’, ‘who’, ‘open door’, etc.) (333). What is interesting, and MUDs share this with WoW, is that “a sense of presence and location in the virtual world is strengthened through a progressive customization of social position and material accumulation” (333). Through leveling up and gaining treasure, equipment, and property the user works their way up a socio-economic hierarchy towards the epic levels, this only adds to the feelings of immersion and virtual embodiment.

Often times there is a large distinction made in virtual worlds like MUDs and WoW that there is a strict dichotomy of “real life” and “just a game”. I recall watching a Japanese anime, titled Sword Art Online, where thousands of players are trapped in an MMORPG (a world similar to WoW) and are told by the developer that the only way for them to leave is to defeat the 100 levels of dungeons and the final boss. There was, of course, a catch—if you die in the game or someone tries to remove the virtual reality headgear from your physical body, you die in “real life”. An interesting dynamic occurred, player killers (PK) questioned whether or not people actually died in real life and began banding together to kill and loot helpless lower level players. They were questioning the distinction between “real life” and “just a game”, and as it turned out, their virtual actions had dire physical consequences. This ontological dichotomy is incredibly simplistic, and covers up the complex realities present in both digital and physical environments. Tom Boellstroff pushes that “All human existence is ‘virtual’” (Golub 23), in other words, everything is “culturally mediated” and we should be referring to both worlds as “real” (23). Rather than using the simple dichotomy of “virtual/real”, we can replace it with another more accurate distinction of “virtual/actual” (23).

Ito holds that both of these worlds, “the game” and “real life”, “are partial realities that matter” (336). Furthermore she observes, “’Reality,’ or visible and salient relationships, is a located inflection of consequentiality, not reducible to commonsensical distinctions between fantasy and reality” (336). Heroes of the World of Warcraft are both virtually embodied in the digital world of Azeroth and physically embodied in the actual world. They inevitably must rely on their physical bodies and the social systems and interactions around them to retain sustenance, survive, and pay the bills. But simultaneously, they are involved in a life of symbols, interaction and social institutions in Azeroth. Ito calls this a “partial bracketing of ‘real life’” (336), where the body is put on standby while the subject becomes immersed in the digital (336). She is of course referring to MUDs, which are text based, with the advent of WoW digital worlds have taken on visual and auditory components (as opposed to relying solely on the expanses of the imagination). This raises new questions for immersion in digital worlds, questions of the intensity of immersion that occurred at the advent of a larger array of the sensorium being utilized to interact with digital worlds. A social and cultural fear reverberated through the ranks of the intelligentsia—the fear that a digital world would supersede the actual world, a fear of addictions and reclusive, isolated gamers attempting to escape from the difficulties of a physical reality (Golub 22).

Golub refers to the Castranova’s critique of digital worlds, which claims that the two worlds (digital and physical), though connected, they exist as separate worlds and furthermore in competition with each other (22). Golub observes, “This exclusivity is the result of increasing sensorial realism: immersion in one requires disattention to the other…” (22). Gamers subjecting themselves to these immersive digital worlds “pay only the biologically minimal amount of time necessary to [their] bodies” (22). As a piece of anecdotal evidence, I would like to refer to a friend of mine who became so involved with the World of Warcraft that he skipped an entire week of work, only leaving his room for cigarettes, Pepsi, and various fast food items. He was fired shortly after and driven back to the “real world” in which he required to pay Internet bills, WoW subscription dues, and rent. I visited him shortly after to find a shell of a person locked up in a dark room where the desk was covered in cigarette butts and A&W burger paraphernalia. This tale of cyber-addiction, and the philosophical fears of the intelligentsia, is not applicable to the population of gamers in general—as we will explore, it is quite a lot more complicated.

A hero cannot exist in the World of Warcraft without simultaneous existence in the physical world. The subject is first physically embodied and then extends their reach into the digital world, a world embedded in the material world through servers, wires, and power grids. Ito observes, “virtual identities emerge as extensible and malleable, but also particular, contingent, and embodied through the prosthetic technologies of computers and computer networks” (338). The subject of World of Warcraft thus goes through a process of “alternative reembodiment in a partially disjunctive world, with complex mechanisms for handling connection and accountability that are absolutely contingent on the technosocial apparatuses that produce their effects” (338). When participating in the World of Warcraft—a hero is subject to rules, norms, and elaborate social institutions that transcend the boundaries of the Azeroth into other components of the web. Golub refers to one of these institutions, the guild, which is a form of institution that is embedded in the game that has a striking resemblance to regulatory bodies in the physical world. Golub observes,

World of Warcraft has a mechanism for creating and maintaining guilds that is architected into the game which includes features such as a private guild chat channel, a guild bank to pool resources, and an in-game information pane which provides information about guild members (28).

The guild Golub was a member of when he was conducting his ethnographic study was called Power Aeternus that had “taken this basic structure and added to it to create a full-fledged institution which has outlasted the individuals who started it to create an enduring cultural system” (28).

These guilds act as a way of allowing players to organize, but also regulate the actions of the characters to follow specific rules and hierarchies. Ito asserts, “As in any community, in other words, a sense of belonging, identity, and social status requires substantial commitment on the part of its members” (333). The more a player is involved in their guild, or in completing quests and raids, the better “loot” (treasure) and material riches they achieve. Of course, guilds are one example of many in a vast and constantly growing digital world. Another form of regulation in the World of Warcraft is the flow of social norms—an example of this exists in the existence of player killing (PKing) as a taboo action. PKing is generally frowned upon in many contexts (unless you are on a player-vs-player [PVP] server), especially if it a higher-level player hunting down lower level players. Ito discusses PKing in her work on MUDs, she observes, “Generally… it is considered sociopathic behavior for higher level characters to prey on newbies, and many MUDs have rules in place prohibiting this kind of practice” (338). The World of Warcraft, among other things, is a game of violence—you kill in raids, or battles against other player factions, you kill monsters and NPCs, you kill bosses; you kill for fun and you kill for loot.

The problem that Ito notes with PKing is that of virtual death, she observes, “Virtual death only has structural consequences of virtual bodies, and yet it is ‘real’ or more consequential than monster killing because of an identification with biologically based subjectivity” (338-339). If a hero in WoW is a human being, using mechanical technology to extend their consciousness into reality, than an attack on a human, especially one who is helpless, is an attack on the player in the “actual world”. In this way violence is qualified as ‘reality’ somewhere between the boundaries of “real life” and “just a game”—but not so simple to be reduced to either-or (338). The fear and rage of getting slayed by a hero who is forty levels your senior, who is traversing the lower-level realms to prey on the weak, can be a vivid experience. Furthermore, as Ito asserts, “virtual bodies are difficult to discipline” (339). Although one would wonder if Blizzard’s access to a heroes personal information (IP address, credit card, phone number) would encourage players to be more accountable to their digital crimes. Even with the existence of digital institutions and social norms within the game, they are still bound to the physical materiality in the “actual” world through a complex and global system of wires, satellites, servers, power grids, and code junkies.

The hero of World of Warcraft is a cultural cyborg, Ito asserts, “the figure of the cyborg suggests translocal networks and relations that are never disembodied or deterritorialized into a homogenized global imagination” (341). Rather these worlds are embodied in material practices of human beings, who extend themselves globally through humungous communications networks. The cyborg is an incredible metaphor for understanding contemporary culture in a time of constant and turbulent technological change. It is a standpoint that allows us to understand ontological, epistemological, and ethical quandaries of the meaning of personhood and humanity. World of Warcraft allows us to experiment with identity, a breaking point of the strict binary structures that organize and regulate our social existence. Brenda Brasher asserts that the use of the cyborg metaphor allows us to de-stabilize these binary structures, and inherent hierarchies, and to re-imagine humanity as existing through pluralities. She observes, “the cyborg offers a metaphoric platform upon which complex human identities might be developed whose connective links could stretch out like the World Wide Web itself to embrace and encompass the world” (825). This was apparent as well in Ito’s time in the MUDs, “Different MUDs provide different pleasures, fantasies, capabilities, and features, and different social positions within MUDs provide opportunities for experiencing different social locations” (339). This cyborgian model of studying digital worlds, embodiment and subjectivity is not a flawless standpoint: it is rigged with dangers, risks, and inequalities that a cyborgian theorist must be mindful of when traversing cyberspace.

In the times of MUDs, long before the advent of World of Warcraft, access to such gaming worlds required knowledge of computers and their language, physical computers to log into, and a stable internet connection (Ito 334). Ito observes, “Thus, while the user base of the Internet at large may be increasingly diverse, the production of MUD worlds is overwhelmingly dominated by the technologically elite” (334). Things have changed since Ito wrote her analysis of MUDs—the Internet is largely accessible and just about everyone in the West owns a computer. However there are still instances of privilege to be mindful of; to play WoW you must have money to pay for the internet and WoW subscription bills, and you must have leisure time to make the commitments necessary to play the game. This also translates into the global, as Brasher reminds us, “given the prevailing global skewing of technological distribution, the current situation is one where the ‘liberation of the few’ is being bought at the ‘expense of the many’”(825). The digital world and our cyborg identities have the potential to explore a new kind of freedom, but it also carries the potential to strip that freedom from others.

Another limitation to the usages of Mizuto Ito’s theoretical work to analyze the World of Warcraft is that her concepts, though still relevant, are severally dated. The gap of limitations will continue to widen as technologies for virtual reality deepens the already immense immersion into digital worlds. I had some difficulties using Ito’s concepts to delve into the vastly different contexts between MUDs and WoW. Because of this, when I would apply Ito’s concepts to ask one question, there would be a proliferation of new questions that had to be avoided because of the diminutive size of this exploration of digital worlds.

The cultural cyborg plugs into the World of Warcraft extending their self over a vast network of pixels and data and furthermore the organizational and material structures that allow this network to exist. Through this paper I sought to demonstrate that the hero or player is simultaneously physically embodied in the “actual” world and virtually embodied in the World of Warcraft because of the institutional and interpersonal interactions that occur across the pixelated world of Azeroth. To summarize this analysis of WoW using Mizuko Ito’s concepts—heroes of Azeroth are virtually embodied in that they are connected to the vast and expanding digital world of interactions, symbols, and institutions. Heroes are simultaneously physically embodied in the actual world both because of their connection to material technology as a “prosthetic” tool which allows them to “partially bracket” reality and enter the immersive digital world and their need to remain embodied in a living and breathing physical body that requires sustenance. With further advancement in the technological mediums of digital worlds and the growing popularity of video games in Western culture, the importance of the cultural cyborg metaphor is becoming paramount in the explorations of digital human potential.


Brasher, Brenda. “Thoughts on the Status of the Cyborg: On Technological Socialization and Its Link to the Religious Function of Popular Culture.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 64:4 (1996). Web. 2 April 2014.

Golub, Alex. “Being in the World (of Warcraft): Raiding, Realism, and Knowledge Production in a Massively Multiplayer Online Game.” Anthropological Quarterly 83:1 (2010). Web. 2 April 2014.

Haraway, Donna. “A Cyborg Manifesto: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century.” The European Graduate School: Graduate and Postgraduate studies. Web. 2 April 2014.

Ito, Mizuko. “Virtually Embodied: The Reality of Fantasy in a Multi-User Dungeon.” Cultural Subjects: A Popular Culture Reader. Ed. Allan J. Gedalof, Jonathan Boulter, Joel Faflak, & Cameron McFarlane. Toronto: Nelson, 2005. 333-345. Print.


Surveillance @ Wayhome Music and Arts Festival: social sorting, capitalism and everyday life

Festival goers sorted by their bracelets into General Admission and V.I.P

After being apart much of the spring and summer season myself and my friend Rachelle met up in Southern Ontario to on a mission to check out Wayhome Music and Arts Festival in Oro-Medonte. If you have never heard of Wayhome (or similar festivals: Osheaga, Shambala, Bass Coast, etc.), it is a large three-day long music festival on a large strip of farmland just outside of Barrie, Ontario. For some this means a weekend snorting crystals, guzzling beer and dropping M. For others, an ecstatic rhythmic dance experience with thousands of sweaty, scantily clad bodies. For the locals Wayhome was a “misuse of agricultural land and a disturbance”. For us, it was a reunion and a bunch of musical fun. Having gone through the parts of life where dropping copious quantities of drugs was fun and cool, and no longer being prone to getting blackout drunk—we had a brilliant opportunity to observe what we had thought was going to be a colourful hippy dippy experience. However, what we experienced was a far (distant) cry from what our expectations had been. It was nothing like the life changing and spiritually ecstatic festival culture we read about in magazines or experienced over documentaries.

Though it was phenomenal to be able to move our bodies to the live playing Alt-J and Modest Mouse—we fell prey to an overt money-making, capitalist fiasco. Everything was heavily clad in sponsorship and advertisement logos. Even many of the attractions were just public relation campaigns made to hi-jack festival goer’s social media in order expand corporate advertisement reach. A slurry of beer companies, water companies, phone companies and fast food branches had set up booths amid the five main stages. Everything was expensive—especially if it was under the category of a ‘need’. Food damn well set us broke and god forbid you buy a drink from the bar.

V.I.P Bracelets allowed for access into restricted areas.

Capitalist exploits aside, what caught me as most interesting was the festival’s surveillance infrastructure: RFID bracelets, security check points, cameras (everywhere), and even drones filming the dance pits from above. I need to note here that I am not trying to paint up an illustration of dark, mysterious festival conspiracy theories. Nor am I talking about Big Brother. But I would like to demonstrate just how surveillance is used at Wayhome to socially sort and position festival goers into different socio-economic classes. Being sorted this way—Wayhome uses various strategies to open and close doors of opportunity and shape the very experience of those who are attending and spending large sums of cash to be there. Let’s expose the mundane surveilling structures that comprise the everyday life of festival goers.

According to “The New Transparency“, an interdisciplinary team studying surveillance issues in Canada, we live in a culture that has normalized surveillance—we track, record and analyze just about any data that we can mine or scrape from people’s actions, online identities, and opinions. For better or worse we exist in a time and place that has come to rely on the use of large amounts of personal and interpersonal data. This sort of surveillance has many faces. From the bloated intelligent agencies (NSA) and whistle blowers (Snowden) to street cameras and Facebook. These technologies and strategies of surveillance are so embedded in our everyday life we take them for granted. They are in the realm of common sense. And when something falls into the realm of common sense we are less likely to notice it, let alone look at it with a critical lens.

Using smart phones to snap images and share them on social media such as Instagram or Facebook (with a sweet filter of course) is an example of what sociologist’s call “participatory surveillance“. This sort of surveillance, which may have a whole plethora of social benefits, is something we conduct together physically and digitally. Another form of surveillance, the form that relates to Wayhome, is how people are grouped together and sorted through some form of technological mediation. The technology in this case is the RFID bracelet that everyone at the festival must wear.

These bracelets were little strips of synthetic cloth, with a small RFID chip placed inside, and a locking mechanism so that you can’t take it off your wrist. According to Dr. David Lyon (2007), “These devices (RFID) rely on small tags that may be read wirelessly from a tiny antenna as the tag passes near the sensor” (113). He further elaborates that they perform categorization based on geo-locational data (ibid 113). These bracelets came in many different colours. Each colour represents a social position at the festival. Yellow bracelets were for general admissions—the lowest rung of the social ladder, the proletariat of Wayhome. Red bracelets were for VIP—which just about cost you your left kidney and child’s university savings. This was the bourgeois. There was also a diversity of bracelets for staff, artists, stage crews, media and volunteers. The whole rainbow was covered. Because these bracelets lock when they are put on it freezes any chance of social mobility, in other words, movement between different classes of people. Another important thing to note is that all festival goers were asked to preregister their RFID bracelets to their Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts for social media and security purposes. This linked the physical bracelets to individual, digital information about the festival goer.

Alt-J light show from the perspective of general admission.

According to Lyons (2007), “playspaces” or places of leisure, such as shopping malls or music festivals, have some of the most intensive surveillance (108). Much of this surveillance categorizes and sorts those who are welcome (those with bracelets) and those who are not (those who sneak in). There is an assemblage of surveillance technologies that are not quite connected, but can be drawn together in various forms to create profiles on individuals and gaze over populations in aggregate. I will write on the assemblage in another future post, but for now, you may want to read The Surveillant Assemblage by Kevin Haggerty and Richard Ericson. On another note, it would be interesting to know how much data Wayhome mines from the RFID bracelet and Facebook, Twitter, Instagram connections. Likely, it is very profitable for them.

Surveillance is everywhere. Many sociologists our heralding us a surveillance society. It is certainly about time we bring this often hidden aspect of our lives under some critical, public scrutiny. Many of the technologies are still very cryptic and mysterious in their ways of watching, categorizing, and sorting people. But the power for them to mediate our life choices is vast. From music festivals to social media to surfing the web and walking the streets. We are always watched and watching.

Kyle Curlew (@curlewKJ)


Related Topics:

The New Transparency – Interdisciplinary report on surveillance issues and trends in Canada –

The Surveillance Studies Center – Interdisciplinary center for studies of surveillance at Queen’s University – The Varsity – Festival report card:

WayHome – critique of Wayhome written by a critic at The Varsity newspaper –


Bennett, Colin J., Kevin D. Haggerty, David Lyon, and Valerie Steeves, eds. Transparent Lives: Surveillance in Canada. Au Press: Athabasca University, 2014.  Web. 24 Aug. 2015.

Haggerty D., Kevin and Richard V. Ericson. “The Surveillant Assemblage.” British Journal of Sociology. 51.4 (2000): 605-622. Web.  2 Oct. 2015

Lyon, David. Surveillance Studies: An Overview. Polity Press: Cambridge, 2007. Print.