Category Archives: Internet Culture

Musings of an (a)social collective: Anonymity and Community

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Anonymous communities can easily be mixed up with as a thick mess of senseless social interactions. At least, that is how I saw this world when I first decided to study anonymous communities for my Master’s thesis. I thought I would study how surveillance operates in anonymous social media applications—specifically, a very popular (at the time) application called Yik Yak.

Just a side note: Yik Yak had gone into a sudden bout of madness and removed the ability to be anonymous from their application. After a complete revolt of their user base (they just about all left), they switched back. But the feed is still a smouldering ruin of regret and nostalgia. To simplify this argument for the sake of a blog post—let’s pretend that the application did none of this. Let’s make an ideal form: an anonymous community.

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When I first downloaded the app a month before I decided to dedicate two years to it—my room mate had convinced me to check it out. An seemingly infinite central feed of anonymous comments that were sorted by a slurry of up-votes and down-votes. The Yak feed is tied to a geolocational system that connects the app to particular locations. My Yak, was the Queen’s University Yak. It was a busy feed. And it was constantly changing. To me, it seemed to be a chaotic and nebulas thick tangle of associations. A fun challenge for a scholar following and Actor-network inspired philosophy.

The popular posts stood out from the unpopular posts by an upvote/downvote feature. It was kind of like a mash between Twitter and Reddit with a touch of anonymity.

After a stint of digital ethnographic work and a ton of interviews with enthusiastic and committed users I began to see something else. Something that, as an outsider, was invisible to me at first. There was an elaborately balanced Yik Yak community. As Gary T. Marx asserts, anonymity is entirely a social process. The only way for anonymity to occur is through a faceless interaction with another faceless person. This includes social regulations, exploitations, and oppressions. But also, playfulness and a culture of care.

I would like to play with a concept I’m thinking of called (a)social. ‘a’ can be used as a negation. ‘a’ can also be used to represent anonymity. But mostly, ‘a’ will be used to approach a society which remains almost entirely faceless. A community of people interacting around nothing more than posts from people who occupy similar space. Similar cultural values.

Though I have major problems with the corporate side of Yik Yak with their capitalist motives and try-hard branding schemes, their application has facilitated the construction of an elaborate community. It’s created an (a)social experiment. It is a community that both contains a culture of trolling and a culture of care.

All things are a collective endeavor. The (a)social communities are also a collective endeavor. In Donna Haraway’s most recent philosophical publication, Staying with the Trouble, she discusses her concept of sympoiesis—a collective unfolding of reality. This collective includes everything. All human, inhuman, and nonhuman components that are threaded into the collective mess.

When we load up Yik Yak to our mobile phones and post snippets of thought to the main feed (or engage in grueling arguments over all controversies in the comments)—we work with silicone, wires, codes, telecommunication companies, algorithms, molecules, humans, bots, and entire scaffoldings of bureaucracies, legal frameworks, and governments. Interacting with the Yak spans the world over.

Furthermore, the Yak’s platform—allows particular functions and blocks others—shaping its users to interact in particular ways. They impose standards, through their Code of Conduct, which they enforce through algorithms looking for offensive key words. And they sometimes change up everything in an update (to remove their main feature, anonymity). These are the institutional forces that shape and provide stability to the community.

However, I have noticed that there is something more powerful at work in maintaining the community. It seems that the mess of interactions from users balance out particular norms and ways of acting. This is done through both the comments section and the up-vote/down-vote feature. These are the vernacular forces that generate norms and cultures. Certain topics, maybe, offensive topics, are down-voted (a -5 score from votes deletes the comment from the feed). This vernacular power, though institutionally enabled, allows for a regulation of trolls and bullies without Yak’s employees ever having to get involved.

(a)social sympoiesis initially looks like a senseless and dense knot of relations. It’s noisy and confusing. But, once, as an ethnographer, you begin the arduous work of untangling these associations—it begins to look like every other community. Despite all of the contradictions, despite the arguments, the controversies, and the confusing faceless interactions—the Yak community is able to balance out, stabilize, and “hang together” as a coherent whole.

Though such an (a)social collective is not shielded from the larger world. Once, for whatever reasons or motivations, Yik Yak decided that their users didn’t want to be anonymous and forced every user to get user handles (and suggested they link up their Facebook page)—the entire community collapsed. All that is left are groups of Yak “refugees” with no where to go but to be visible to the world.

The Slender Man, Legends and Cultural Anxieties

Surveillance is being called ubiquitous by most of the leading scholars who study the social, political, and cultural ramifications of surveillance technology. A focus that I have been studying and thinking about is how surveillance is understood by everyday people living everyday lives.

I do this through the lens of Folklore, the study of everyday life. Or the study of the Folk (lay-person). This is obviously problematic—as such a term equates everyday life with peasantry. So for the remainder of this post I will use the term vernacular performance (i.e. everyday performance).

I’ve written about this work in the past. One of the ways that we demonstrate our cultural anxieties and fears is through the collective performance of legend cycles. In this case, I am speaking about the boogieman of the Internet—the Slender Man.

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What is a legend?

Legends are repetitive and variant. Meaning people tell it over and over again, and as it is told and spread it changes form while keeping a central theme. Legends are a performance between storyteller and audience. Meaning that people perform legend cycles. A teller typically recounts a story to a listener or audience. This does include digital legends. Finally, Legends are not constructed by the teller, but by the community. The interaction between the storyteller and the audience constructs the story and allows it to spread. It is a collective process.

The Slender Man is a creature born the performative interactions of a group of users on the forum Something Awful. The Slender Man is a tall, monstrous figure. One that resembles a tall man in a black suit. He has no face, and extraordinarily long arms. He is sometimes depicted with many moving tentacles. All of this, and his many disproportions give it a Lovecraftian appearance. An eldritch monstrosity.

Cultural Monsters

As Tina Marie Boyer (2013) asserts in terms of the Slender Man, “a monster is a cultural construct” (246). And as such, understanding the ‘anatomy’ of a monster sheds light on the problems people face in their day-to-day existence.

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What is the anatomy of the Slender Man? I decided to do some ‘fieldwork’—exploring many of the blogs/vlogs that contributed to its legendary constitution. I found three major themes: Surveillance, Social Control, and Secret Agencies. This returns us to the topic of this blog post: The Slender Man is a vernacular performance that demonstrates our collective anxieties of a culture that is under the constant gaze of massive and complicated networks of surveillance.

Surveillance

The Slender Man is known to watch its prey. It is rarely confrontational, though it seems to relish in making its presence known. One scene that sticks out to me is from the YouTube series Marble Hornets—the main protagonist, after becoming increasingly paranoid of the faceless man in a business suit following him began to leave his camera running while he slept—only to discover that the slender man watches from a crack in his door while he sleeps. The Slender Man watches, seemingly from everywhere—but even when it is seen, the Slender Man has no eyes to watch from. It is as if it sees everything from nowhere. The Slender Man appears and vanishes, seemingly at will, haunting victims with little to no motive. The Slender Man represents the phenomenon of ubiquitous surveillance in the virtual world. A world where anonymity and pseudonymity are quickly disappearing. A world where only the experts understand what to surveil and how to read the data such surveillance produces. And a world haunted by faceless watchers.

Social Control

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The Slender Man also represent themes of social control. The most obvious instance of this is the ‘proxies’, otherwise known as the ‘hallowed’. These are people who have been overcome by the Slender Man’s will. In many instances, the Slender Man legend telling ends in the main protagonists going mad and disappearing. They are either killed by the Slender Man (or its minions), disappear from time and space and sometimes memory, or are turned into a proxy. This means, they lose their minds and begin to do the bidding of the Slender Man. In the blog ‘Lost Within the Green Sky’, the main protagonist Danny describes it as a form of indoctrination that slowly drains the will from its victims. Even as a proxy, once their usefulness dries up – they are often killed. This theme is not surprising as it emerges from a cultural context that is known for its pervasive ability to control through silent software mediators.

Secret Agencies

The Slender Man is also known as The Operator (signified by a circle with an X through it). This name, along with the black suit it wears, makes the Slender Man a clear reference of Secret Agents. Those organizations who haunt the Internet, forcing those who wish to remain anonymous into the depths of TOR browsers and VPN applications. The Slender Man is representative of the NSA, FBI, CIA, CSIS, KGB and other notorious spy agencies operating with little oversight and behind a secretive veil. They are just as faceless as the Slender Man. And just as cryptic. Few understand the significance of their presence. And those who come under its haunting gaze have quite a lot to fear.

More Research

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Folklore is a small branch of the social sciences.  There are few people who work beneath its flag. And fewer of those people study contemporary, digital folklore. However, this does not diminish its importance. Folklore offers us a lens to peer into how everyday people interpret the world through vernacular expression. It is an essential dimension to the surveillance studies canon. An understanding of how people interpret surveillance is essential if we are ever going to take action to educate people about its dangers.

‘Software Mediated Intimacy’ in Tinder: have we ever been in love?

Tinder has become an almost ubiquitous dating app that has built quite a lot of controversy even as it sits in most of our mobile phones.

While users swipe left and right searching for people they might be interested in, questions of legitimacy and authenticity in love, intimacy and dating arise. I was motivated to write this blogpost after a debate with a great friend of mine about the authenticity of love in Tinder.

Questions arose for me: If love is a social/cultural construct, is it authentic? What does Tinder do to change how love manifests itself? What has changed that we can’t right away see?

These tensions hang about within an atmosphere of heavy technical mediation that silently organizes, classifies, and structures how users interact with each other.

In an article by Fast Company, Austin Carr had the wonderful opportunity to interview Tinder CEO Sean Rad about the algorithm that measures user desirability and matches users to their equivalents. This is the ‘Elo score’ program.

Tinder users do not have access to their desirability rating, however, this rating does predetermine who gets to see who. It brings together a large and heterogeneous set of data on users in order to measure their desirability. Users only have access to viewing profiles that share a similar scoring.

Algorithms are active mediators in the construction of networks of intimacy. I would like to call this ‘software mediated intimacy’. Before we explore this concept we need to understand the basics and histories of two concepts: actor-networks and intimacy.

On actors, networks and the silent power of algorithms

Actor-networks are a set of conceptual tools originally devised and made popular by science and technology studies scholars Latour, Callon, and Law.

The most fundamental distinction of this school of thought, sometimes referred to as actor-network theory (ANT) is the principle of generalized symmetry. This concept holds that humans and nonhumans (atoms, systems, computers and codes) are equal in their ability to shape intentions of actors in networks of associations.

An actor, which can be human and/or nonhuman, is made to act.

This act is always done in relation to other acts.

So actors, together acting, create actor-networks. Humongous, unpredictable webs of associations.

This model of understanding society—through complex, overlapping networks of humans and nonhumans, is very useful for understanding how actors shape each other over social media platforms.

There are countless nonhuman’s working in sprawling actor-networks that shape, structure, and mediate how we interact with others online. Most of this remains hidden within our electronic devices. Strings of codes and wires affect us in ways that are sometimes more meaningful than our interactions with humans.

Some ANT scholars call this the blackbox—where a vast actor-network becomes so stable it is seen to act together and it becomes a node in other, more expansive actor-networks. Think about how many blackboxes exist in the many components of your mobile devices.

I would go as far to say that most Tinder users are unaware how much their romances are mediated by algorithms. These algorithms are typically trade secrets and the musings of Science and Technology scholars—not quite specters in the imaginations of users.

On the social construction of love and intimacy

Love is not universal, it is a complex set of changing associations and psycho-socio-technical feelings that are tied to space, time and historical circumstance.

Anthony Giddens, in his book The Transformation of Intimacy, demonstrates the social and cultural influences that actively construct how we understand, perceive, and pursue, love and intimacy.

In the past, the pre-modern, relationships were forged through arranged marriages that were mainly tied to economic priorities. This is something that Foucault, in his work The History of Sexuality, called the deployment of alliance—in other words, the creation of social bonds and kinship alliances that shaped the distribution of wealth and ensured group and individual survival.

In a complicated move that I am unable to detail here—the deployment of sexuality emerged that changed the very nature of the family. It also led to the love and intimacy that we know today—a social bond that is not necessarily tied to the family unit.

Gidden’s follows, as Western societies began to experience the characteristics of modernity—intimacy and love began to emerge alongside it. Romance emerged when the family institution of premodernity collapsed.

Why am I talking about this? I am talking about the work of Giddens and Foucault in order to illustrate the love and intimacy are a constantly shifting social and cultural construct. Every generation experiences love and intimacy differently.

This is probably the reason why your parents scowl about your one night stands and the fact that you haven’t given them grandchildren yet.

Love and intimacy is going through a massive shift right now.

‘Software mediated intimacy’—algorithmic love

In his essay A Collective of Humans and Nonhumans, Latour speaks about our progression into modernity as a deepening intimacy between humans and nonhumans. An integration between humans and their technology. A folding of all sorts of intentions and agencies.

In this case, as humans become further enveloped in their associations with mobile devices and ubiquitous social media. Most of our interactions become mediated through strings of codes, complex algorithms and digital hardware.

In the case of Tinder—the algorithms are mediating and structuring how we meet and communicate with people who may become love interests. Of course, these algorithms don’t exactly control such love. Human actors enter into associations with the Tinder actor-network with all kinds of intentions and expectations.

Some actors want a fling, a one night stand. Others might want a long-term relationship. Others may even just want attention or friendship.

So even though Tinder is sorting who gets to talk to who—a heterogeneous and constantly shifting clusters of intentions are constantly shaping how Tinder-based relationships will turn out.

And it’s not perfect. Love and intimacy falter and wilt just as much as it blossoms.

But that’s not my point. ‘Software mediated intimacy’, like all of the forms of before it, is another form of social and culturally curated love and intimacy. So it’s not authenticity that is the primary question here. All forms of love emerge from some degree of construction or performance. There is no universal standard.

However, what is different and what is often not seen is the degree to which love can be engineered. Computer scientists and engineers, at the beckoning of large (or small) corporations, embed particular logics and intentions into the algorithms they construct.

As Dodge and Kitchin remind us, in their book Code/Space, this is not a perfect product of social control—but a constant problem to be shaped. Even so, it is disconcerting that so many users are being shaped by silent human and nonhuman mediators.

Tinder’s algorithm and the ‘Elo Score’ is a trade secret. Not opened up to the public. Or the academe. So I am left scrambling for an answer that only raises more questions.

‘Software mediated intimacy’ can offer us a new and novel way to construct relationships, whether they are temporary or sustained. It is a form of social interaction that is just as authentic as prior forms of love and intimacy. However, the codes and algorithms and the complexities of computer science and statistics make it overwhelmingly easy for corporations to shape users based on private interests.

We must learn how these processes work and how they might be democratized so that the user may benefit as much as the capitalist who produces and hordes such software. We must embrace ‘software mediated intimacy’, in order to learn about it and master how it works so we might sidestep the potential and precarious exploitation seeping through our engineered social bonds.

Note: This blog post will be followed by a more in-depth analysis of this understanding of Intimacy. I am seeking to expand this into a larger, theoretical project. Any comments, criticism, or thoughts would be incredibly useful.

Visibility and Exposure at the Margins

I had a recent run in with the public eye because of an op-ed article I wrote for the Queen’s Journal on a controversial exploration of the limits of free speech in terms of the ability of the (in)famous Queen’s Alive (anti-abortion) group to table and canvass for supporters on campus.

This lead to a public debate and lots of discussion. It also lead to a ton of mudslinging and attempts at public smearing.

I had also experienced this in the past when myself and another advocate for queer rights filed a human rights complaint against a magazine for a publishing an unsavory article illustrating a scathing hatred for queer folk (they referred to us as evil and pagan). I was waist deep in understandably complex, multidimensional and very contested discourse. These discourses led to unpleasant hate messages and full transparency in the provincial (and to some degree, international) media.

That is not the topic of this blog post. What I would like to discuss isn’t the status of free speech or the unpalatable existence of hate speech. Rather I am interested in the intense visibility that activists (and others) are exposed to through unpredictable new media interactions. These interactions are typically escalated and amplified by the Internet. This is a dimension of contemporary surveillance not conventionally covered by many academics. It is the subjects of surveillance that I would like to explore.

Continue reading Visibility and Exposure at the Margins

Digital Folklore: A mess of mass culture or valuable cultural artifacts?

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I find myself constantly confronted by a mentality that artifacts of popular culture are inferior to those strong pillars of Western intellectual culture (Shakespeare and Gatsby). I’ve encountered this from peers and mentors, classwork and coffee shop discussions. In this blog post, I’m going to challenge these common assumptions that position popular culture as something less than intellectually stimulating—or worse yet, mere entertainment. I am not trying to say that other forms of art and creation (“high culture”) are bad, I quite enjoy Shakespeare and Gatsby. But I also love Star Wars, Rick and Morty and the Hunger Games. The Internet, and other developments in digital technology, has allowed for the proliferation of popular culture. The Internet and computer software has provided affordable mediums and methods for all kinds of people to create “things”. All kinds of “things”! Memes, amateur YouTube videos, blogs, creepypasta (amateur scary stories), and enormous catalogues of emotional responses in the form of animated GIFs.

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This is folklore. The study of the culture of the everyday life of everyday people. Lynne McNeil, a folklorist, recently gave a Ted Talk (TEDxUSA) on digital folklore and new media. She heralded the Internet as the perfect archive of everyday life.

McNeil observes,
“Folklorists, unlike literature scholars, or art historians, or music scholars, we don’t look to the productions of the rare geniuses of human kind as the only cultural products worth paying attention too. We look to other kinds of cultural productions, productions that I think make the state of our digital lives seem a little less dire… The problem is with the assumption that the collective works of Shakespeare is the only valid cultural output…”

Through studying, interpreting and understanding folklore, or the stuff and knowledge of everyday life, we get a pretty good illustration of how people interpret and understand the world around them. This is important for all kinds of reasons.

Brenda Brasher (1996), in her work titled, ‘Thoughts on the Status of the Cyborg: On Technological Socialization and its link to the religious function of popular culture’, observed that people are shifting from using religion to generate an understanding of ethics in everyday life to that of popular culture. In this sense, there are more and more people who are interpreting ethics through the Jedi philosophy of the Force than that of the bible. People construct complicated pastiches (or collages) of raw pop cultural data to construct their belief systems. Snippets of ethics and norms taken from Hollywood blockbusters, 4chan, YouTube series, and an ungodly number of video games.

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To ignore popular culture is to ignore this massive shift in how people understand the world around them. A great example of the power of vernacular popular culture and folklore is video games. To be frank, though there are amazing and powerful pillars of literature—I find myself struck with an overwhelming sense of catharsis when I play through a well-constructed video game. I’ve had oodles of discussions with friends who are willing to bracket off video games as an intellectual waste of time. However, such cultural artifacts are important to the aspiring digital folklorist just because so many people play them. Furthermore, so many people code them as well. Gamer culture becomes a myriad of professional and independent games.

Just to demonstrate this, here are some statistics presented by the Entertainment Software Association at E3 (a big gaming conference) in 2015. 42% of Americans play video games regularly (at least 3 hours a week). The average age of a gamer is above the age of 35 (so video games cross generations). Gamers consume more games than they do TV and movies. Consumers spent a grand total of 22.41 billion dollars in America in 2015. Video games are big! Lots of people use them, identify with them, and generate cultural groups around them. This is an eye opener for a folklorist, it should certainly be an eye opener for other social scientists.

Trevor Blank, a digital folklorist, observed in his introduction to digital folklore that “It bears noting that the fear of cultural displacement via mass culture is mothering new” (3). He demonstrates that following the innovation of some new form of media, cultural pundits criticized emerging technology as destroying traditions and communication. They accused technological innovations of destroying the folk. However, another perspective of framing the changes brought about with these new forms of media is that they entailed new forms of folk. A problem with framing the media in overtly dystopic ways is that you create a technological determinism that takes agency (choice) from those who participate in everyday life. These critics actually ignore the “folk” (and their practices) in their criticism. The vernacular has not disappeared into the heterogenous mess of “mass” culture—it has changed form.

Blank explains, “New media technology has become so ubiquitous and integrated into users’ communication practices that it is now a viable instrument and conduit of folkloric transmission…” (4).

Folklore is the study of everyday life. The digital has become a realm of everyday life. Cyberspace is just as important as actual space to the emerging generations of humans in consumer societies. From the rich and poor, men and women (and trans* and queer), and all races and ethnicity use the Internet in their everyday lives for all kinds of reasons. Popular culture in this context provides us with valuable new social contexts to study. New gateways into understanding human culture, society, and communication.

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REFERENCES:

Blank, Trevor. 2012. “Introduction.” Pp. 1-24 in Folk Culture in the Digital Age: The Emergent Dynamics of Human Interaction, edited by Trevor Blank. Logan: Utah State University Press.

Brasher, Brenda. 1996. “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). Retrievieved December 28, 2015 (http://www.jstor.org/stable/1465623?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents) .

McNeill, Lynne. 2015. “Folklore doesn’t meme what you think it memes.” YouTube Website. Retrieved December 28, 2015 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBDJ2UJpKt4&feature=youtu.be).

Social Media: Moving beyond the Luddite trope

Social media is neither good nor bad, though this doesn’t mean it’s necessarily neutral as it certainly has the potential to exploit and empower. Nicole Costa’s rendition of her experiences and tribulations with Facebook in her recent article My online obsessions: How social media can be a harmful form of communication were incredibly touching. Her refusal and resistance to appearing and contributing to the Facebook community is empowering. However, I believe it is also misleading. Social media and digital exchange and interaction are here to stay (save for some cataclysmic event that knocks out the electrical infrastructure) and because of this I believe that we need to learn how to engage with it productively and ethically. We need to engage with social media in a way that doesn’t jump straight into a moralizing agenda. By this I mean illustrating social media as the savior of humanity or a dystopian wasteland where people’s communication collapses into self-absorbed decadence.

How do we maneuver this politically charged land mine addled cyberspace? First we need to recognize that a great number (in the billions) of the human race use social media (of all sorts) for many reasons. However, this is far too broad, let’s focus on Facebook. Facebook is among the most popular of social media with over 1.5 billion users and growing. It is built into the very infrastructure of communication in the Western world. If you have a mobile phone, you very likely have Facebook. You might even use Facebook’s messenger service more than your text messaging. Facebook allows us to share information, build social movements, rally people together in all sorts of grassroots wonders. As an activist, I’ve used Facebook to run successful campaigns. Why? Everyone uses it, and because of this, it has the power (if used correctly) to amplify your voice. Facebook, and most social media, can be very empowering.

But hold your horses! Facebook is still terrifyingly exploitative. Their access to your personal and meta data is unprecedented. Furthermore, they actively use the data that you give them to haul in billions of dollars. Issues of big data and capitalism are finally coming to the forefront of academic and popular discussion, but the nature of such complicated structures are still shrouded in obscurity. The user sees the interface on their computer monitor. But Facebook sees electronic data points that represent every aspect of the Facebook user(s) in aggregate. Through elaborate surveillance techniques, these data points are collected, organized, stored, and traded on an opaque big data marketplace. Furthermore, the user is not paid for their (large) contribution to the product being sold. They are exploited for their data and their labour—as everything you do on Facebook is a part of the data that is commodified and sold.

At the same time Facebook (and other prominent social media platforms) allow for an unprecedented freedom and speed of communication. They have been embedded into our everyday ways of socializing with each other. New social media have become an invaluable and ubiquitous social resource that we engage in from the time we wake to the time we sleep. It has been used to organize events, rallies and protests. It is used to keep in touch with distant family and friends.  It is used for romance, hatred, companionship, and debate. Facebook is playful and empowering.

So if you are like me than you may be absolutely confounded on how to resolve the tensions between Facebook (and other social media) being at the same time exploitative and empowering. We have gone too far down the rabbit hole of social media and digital communication to merely refuse to use it. It is now a intimate part of our social infrastructure. Those who resist through refusal may find themselves at multiple disadvantages in how they engage with the world. My own ethnographic research into why users refused Facebook illustrated that those who abandoned Facebook may have felt empowered by overcoming the “addiction” of social media, however, they also felt excluded and alone. And it must be noted that mostly everyone I talked to who had quit Facebook are now using it again. So clearly, refusal to use these services is not enough to meaningfully challenge problematics in social media.

The Luddites historically were textile workers who were opposed to the invasion of machines into their workplace. Machines that they figured would gouge away at their wages. Today, it is a term used for those who refuse to use certain technologies. In the realm of social media, a Luddite resistance has proved to be incredibly ineffective. It is also important to note that this sort of refusal obscures ways of meaningfully resisting mass surveillance and the exploitation of user data.

I propose the complete opposite. I propose the path of knowledge. We need to learn how to maneuver through social media and the Internet in ways that allow us access to anonymity. Ways of asserting our right to anonymity. This is critical. We need to mobilize and teach and learn through workshops. We need to scour the Internet for free resources on the technical perspectives of social media. We need to also spread awareness of this double edged nature of social media. It is no use to take a stance of refusal, to ignore the importance of social media, and thus remain ignorant to how it all works. When we do this, we actually empower these large capitalist corporations to exploit us that much more. The less we know about the calculus of social media and how it works on a level of algorithm, code and protocol, the more able the capitalists are at disguising and hiding exploitation.

Science Fiction, Mixed Media, and Surveillance

For those of us who have been reading science fiction for some time now—it becomes clear that SF has a strange propensity to becoming prophetic. Many of the themes in science fiction classics are now used as overarching metaphors in mainstream surveillance. Most notably among these is: Orwell’s Big Brother, Huxley’s Brave New World, and Kafka’s Trail. Other common tropes we might refer to is Minority Report, Ender’s Game, and Gattaca.

Though I am not trying to claim that these classics aren’t good pieces of SF literature, they may not do a superb job of covering issues implicit in contemporary surveillance. Imagine George Orwell coming to the realization that the Internet is one humungous surveillance machine with the power of mass, dragnet surveillance. Or imagine Huxley’s reaction to the lulling of consumer affect through branding and advertisement. The power of surveillance tools to control and shape large populations has become a prominent and dangerous feature of the 21st century.

As Richard Hoggart says,

“Things can never quite be the same after we have read—really read—a really good book.”

So let’s stop recycling old metaphors (if I read another surveillance book that references Big Brother or the Panopticon I’m going to switch fields). Let’s look at the work of our own generation of writers and storytellers. What I think we might find is a rich stock of knowledge and cultural data that could illuminate some optics into our (post)human relationship with advance technology.

The reason why I am using mixed media, as opposed to focusing on a singular medium, is that I believe that our relationship with media is not limited to one or the other. Novels, movies, video games, graphic novels and YouTube videos all offer us something in terms of storytelling. Part entertainment, part catharsis premised and constructed through the engagement with the story.  Our generation of storytelling has shifted into the realm of mixed media engagement.  What follows are some stories that I think are critically important to understanding the human condition in our own generational context.

P.S. They are in no particular order.

Disclaimer: Though I tried to be cautious not to forfeit any critical plot or character points, be careful for spoilers:

SOMA 

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SOMA is a survival horror video game released by the developers of Amnesia (another terrifying game), Frictional Games. It is a 2015 science fiction story that both frightens you and an imparts an existential crisis as you struggle to find “human” meaning between the fusion of life and machine. After engaging in a neurological experiment, the main protagonist Simon Jarrett, wakes up in an abandoned underwater facility called PATHOS-II. As opposed to people, Jarrett finds himself trapped with the company of both malicious and benevolent robots—some who believe they are human. The interesting overlap with surveillance here is the focus on neurological surveillance. Scientists (in and out of game) transform the biological brain into a series of data points that represent the original. From this, scientists hope to predict or instill behavior. Or in the case of this game, transform human into machine. This is done by literally uploading the data points of the brain in aggregate to a computer. The game instills a constant question: is there any difference between human consciousness and a copy of human consciousness? SOMA is more than just a scary game—it is a philosophical treatise on the post-human illustrated through an interactive story.

Ready Player One

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Ready Player One, is a novel written by Ernest Cline, which covers a wide breath of themes: notably the uneasy relationship between surveillance and anonymity, visibility and hiding. Cline constructs a world that doesn’t seem very far off from our own. A world where people begin to embrace simulation through virtual reality (VR) as environmental disaster plagues the actual world. People hide in the sublime. The VR game, OASIS, a world of many worlds, is the home of many clever pop culture references. Mostly music, video games and movies. With an extra emphasis on science fiction. Embedded in this world of worlds is several “Easter Eggs” (surprises hidden in videogames) that act as a treasure trail to the OSASIS late founder’s fortune and ultimate control over the virtual world. Anonymity is the norm of OASIS—a utopian world where the original, democratic ideal of the Internet is realized. A place where anyone can be anybody—without reference to their actual identity. However, this world is jeopardized as a the corporation Innovative Online Industries is also searching for the Easter Eggs to take over OASIS and remake it to generate capital. The theme of anonymity vs. mass surveillance for profit is arguably a major fuel for global debate as all “places” of the Internet are surveilled in increasingly invasive ways. Anonymity has almost disappeared from the Internet, to be replaced with quasi-public profiles (Facebook and Goggle+) that exist to make billions of dollars off of people’s identities and user-generated content. The original dream of the Internet, sadly has failed.

Nexus

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Nexus is a science fiction novel written by Ramez Naam following characters who are engaged with a new type of “nano-drug” that restructures the human brain so that people can connect mind to mind. There are those who support the drug and those who are against it. This conflict is followed by a slurry of espionage that exposes the characters to incredible dangers. The theme of surveillance in Nexus follows a new fixation on neuroscience. The ability to surveil the very essential, bio-chemical features of the human mind. As well as exposing mind and memory to others participating in this new psychedelic (psychosocial) drug. This is a level of exposure that far supercedes our experiences with the Internet and social media. Imagine being hardwired into a computer network. The book also follows traditional surveillance themes as the main character Kaden Lane becomes entangled in the conflict of private corporations and state government.

The Circle

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Social media in the 21st century has positioned Western society within the context of visibility and exposure. Most people are simultaneously engaged in self-exposure and participatory surveillance—as we post content about our lives and browse and read content about the lives of our friends and family. The Circle by Dave Eggers works this theme through a character, named Mae Holland, who has just been hired by the world’s largest IT company located in a place called the Circle. The Circle is a place, much like a University campus, with literally everything on it. This place boarders utopia—a place where work and play blends. However, following the mantra “All that happens must be known”, social media penetrates the lives of those who exist in the Circle in pervasive and exposing ways. Very quickly, the utopic illusion slips away into dystopia.

Slenderman

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Slenderman was, in its bare skeleton form, introduced to the Internet by Eric Knudson on the (in)famous Something Aweful forum board for a paranormal photo editing contest. However, within a year, Slenderman was sucked into a collective narrative construction across all media platforms. People blogged about it, tweeted about it, YouTubed about it. A massive and ever changing (and unstable) urban legend (or Fakelore) was constructed in the chaos of cyberspace. Slenderman, the paranormal creature, can be described as a tall man with unnaturally long arms and legs (and sometimes tentacles), wearing a black suit, with no face. It is usually depicted as a creature who watches, in other words surveils. It watches from obscure areas, slowly driving its victim to paranoia and insanity. Than the victim disappears, without a trace. Slenderman is the contemporary boogieman. But it also shares a narrative with dangerous, obscure, and mysterious secret police and intelligence agencies. As Snowden revealed to the public, governments, through mass surveillance techniques, watch everyone and everything. Could the slenderman narrative be telling of a deep seeded cultural fear of government surveillance in the 21st century? There are many ways to tap into this story—google blogs, tumblr accounts, and twitter accounts. But also, YouTube series’ like Marble Hornets, EverymanHYBRID, and Tribe Twelve. Also check out the genre called Creepypasta for an extra home brewed thrill.

 

YouTube Red: Google and the double exploitation

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It was recently announced that YouTube, owned and operated by Google, is planning on releasing a paid subscription service. This would entail a prioritizing of services to those who are able to afford it and creating exclusive content for those who are willing to pay. This is all kinds of messed up—but the most nefarious aspect of this is that they are already making money off of you.  Google uses you much like an employee (though unpaid). All of the content you generate, use, or provide “free” to Google, they organize and trade through complicated surveillance systems to swing a profit off of surplus value. This is why services like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube are free. They are funded (and make ludicrous profits off of) your personal information.

Reading about Youtube Red prompted me to explore some of Google’s Privacy Policy to understand how Google uses our information to generate a profit. I’d like to note that Google owns a whole lot of Internet applications we tend to use in our everyday life. YouTube is only one of these applications, though a really important one.  These policies are attached to a good many things we do on the Internet.  Though the policies are provided to the user in a way that paints Google as a benevolent partner in your access to good services and relevant advertisements—the truth is that the website profits greatly off the information you provide them. This may seem very obvious—but I think we need to recognize that this definitely changes the face of Google’s intentions. They effectively disguise any exploitative functions of their information use through flowery language. An illustrative example of this is how they cleverly change ‘trading’ information to ‘sharing’ information.  The use of the word ‘sharing’ implies that information is given as a ‘gift’, but it also evokes good feels about Google’s intentions.

An interesting power we grant Google through the Terms of Use is that they have agency over the use of the content we upload, despite saying that we retain ownership of such content. The policy reads:

“When you upload, submit, store, send or receive content to or through our Services, you give Google (and those we work with) a worldwide license to use, host, store, reproduce, modify, create derivative works (such as those resulting from translations, adaptations or other changes we make so that your content works better with our Services), communicate, publish, publicly perform, publicly display and distribute such content.”

They use complicated and automated means of surveillance in order to collect, organize, and monetize your data. They also are free to make use of your user-generated content—things you created with your time and effort, though you are not paid for this.  Regardless of how you understand your relationship with Google, you should understand that the relationship is framed in a Capitalistic system. You are a Google piggy bank.

The concept of the cyber prosumer is discussed by many political economists and surveillance theorists. Cohen (2008) introduces the concept of prosumer into her work on surveillance and Facebook. This concept can be used for any Web 2.0 social media application (Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc.). It is most certainly a part of Google’s political economic structure. Cohen observes, “Business models based on a notion of the consumer as producer have allowed Web 2.0 applications to capitalize on the time spent participating in communicative activity and information sharing” (7). To call a social media user a prosumer is to say that they both produce and consume simultaneously while using Google services. They produce the user-generated content that is then sold to advertisers and used to target advertisements back at the prosumer.

In the process of Google capitalizing off this user-genreated content the prosumer is involved in ‘immaterial labour’. This is a concept devised by Lazzorato (1996) to talk about the informational and cultural aspects of labour exploitation. Though the Internet looked far different in the 90s, his concept has become even more valuable with the advent of social media. Lazzorato (1996) elaborates that immaterial labour is “the labour that produces the informational and cultural content of the commodity” (1). He breaks this concept down to two components: informational content and cultural content (ibid 1). Informational content refers to the shift from physical labour to labour organized by computer and digital technology (ibid 1). Cultural content refers to the production of creative and artistic artifacts that were never (and still aren’t) considered in the realm of labour (ibid 1).

This concept is incredibly useful for understanding the role of social media in capitalism—as immaterial labour, often expressed as the realm of fun and social, becomes the unrecognized exploitation of users as corporations utilize their creative potential for capital gain. Bauman and Lyon (2013) express, “The arousing of desires—is thereby written out of the marketing budget and transferred on to the shoulders of prospective consumers” (125). Though it is to be noted that this use of immaterial labour can be said to be a fair trade-off for free use of Google’s services.

The troublesome part of all of this is that if they begin to charge for subscription fees for better services (preferred services) it will take on a doubling effect of exploitation. First, the prosumer engages in immaterial labour through the creation of user-generated content that Google consolidates to produce surplus value from thus generating profit. And then, the prosumer is charged a subscription fee for use. In terms of labour, you will essentially have to pay to provide Google with the fruits of your labour.

What may be even more troubling is if Google is allowed to succeed with the implementation of YouTube Red than it will likely provide incentive for other social media sites, such as Facebook, to do similar things.  This is a conversation we should not take lightly.  Surveillance might have its benefits to society, but when used by social media sites through the capitalist framework, two issues come to mind: exploitation and control.  We need to take a critical stance on this or we might slip down the slippery slope of subscription social media.


Bauman, Zygmunt and David Lyon. 2013. Liquid Surveillance. Cambridge: Polity.

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

Lazzarato, M. 1996.  ‘Immaterial Labour.’ Generation Online. Retrieved November 5, 2015 (http://www.generation-online.org/c/fcimmateriallabour3.htm).

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

 

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

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.

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

Post-script:

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.


REFERENCES:

Albrechtslund, Anders. 2008. “Online Social Networking as Participatory Surveillance.” First Monday 13(3). Retrieved Oct 9, 2015 (http://journals.uic.edu/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/2142/1949).

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.

 

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.


Sources:

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.