Tag Archives: public sociology

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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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 – http://www.sscqueens.org/projects/the-new-transparency/about

The Surveillance Studies Center – Interdisciplinary center for studies of surveillance at Queen’s University – http://www.sscqueens.org/ The Varsity – Festival report card:

WayHome – critique of Wayhome written by a critic at The Varsity newspaper – http://thevarsity.ca/2015/08/06/festival-report-card-wayhome/


Sources:

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.

 

Ala Buzreba and the Sociology of Mediated Publics

Today, Liberal Party Candidate Ala Buzreba stepped down from the electoral race because of the grief publicly received by excessively offensive posts she made on Twitter.  Normally, this may be an appropriate course of action.  However, there are a few important points of context that must be made about this entire circus of an event. Notably, that the tweets were made when she was seventeen.  But first let me offer a recap for those who have not sifted through the mainstream media.

Ala Buzreba, a university student in Calgary, is one of the youngest candidates in the 2015 Canadian Federal Election.  After conservative supporters and candidates began circulating tweets that were posted in 2011 (when she was the ripe age of 17)—the posts caught national and international media attention.  It has now become an irresponsible election issue to which even the party leader Trudeau had to make a public statement.  As well as every large media corporation has to cover it.

Here are the tweets:

This post by conservative supporter Sheila Gunn Reid brought the tweets to light,

After the tweets became “public”, Ala Buzreba posted,

However, the media hayday that erupted over the digital sphere became far to heavy to continue running in the election—either Ala Buzreba decided to step down or she was forced to step down so the Liberal Party could heal its wounds.

(NOTE: It seems that Ala Buzreba has taken down her Facebook page)

If you would like further detail I would direct you to google for an abundance of articles of every political color which paint the situation in many shades of black and white.

It becomes abundantly clear that this situation is a sort of popular smear campaign.  One which we will all forget about by sometime this weekend.  It seems absurd that with so many important political issues at hand (social welfare, economic well-being, and environmental stability, among a few), that the media would focus its attention on some tweets sent in heated debate from a seventeen-year-old girl.  I am sure we’ve all been there.  We’ve all posted things out of anger, some worse than others, in an Internet debate.  We were all also young—a period in the human life span when we do things that we later regret.  Often times in these forms of debates (the really hot and heavy kind) we tend to say things on a basis of reaction.  We do this in a short time span—not thinking about repercussions.  Certainly not thinking about repercussions that would appear several years later.

Let’s explore this incredibly social story with our sociological imaginations.  According to Danah Boyd (2007), a sociologist exploring digital communication, social media sites (SNS) are in a strange and precarious position between public and private spheres.  She uses the term ‘mediated public’ to describe this relatively new social sphere.  Boyd defines a mediate public as “environments where people can gather publically through mediating technology” (2).  In the case of Twitter and Facebook, ‘environment’ acts as a spatial metaphor to describe that particular means of communication.

There are four major characteristics that encompass a mediated public.  These characteristics are incredibly important to understand when we try to digest the events surrounding Ala Buzreba.  The four characteristics outlined by Boyd are as follow: persistability, searchability, replicability, and invisible audiences.

I will explain these characteristics in terms of the case of Ala Buzreba.  Persistability indicates that things posted to the internet persist over time.  Buzreba posted her remarks in a heated debate (on a contentious and sometimes very racist topic) in 2011 (four years ago—which is a long time for a young adult).  Those remarks were used against her politically four years later.  The reason that they could be used against her was because of the characteristic of searchability.  Political supporters, volunteers and candidates could potentially dig up old posts from the past in attempts to discredit politicians.  Let’s face the cold reality—we all have old embarrassing Myspace accounts that can be found by a simple Google search.  Replicability simply means that things posted online can be copied, cut and pasted.  In this case, Buzreba’s comments were copied and pasted outside of its original context.  Not only does a post outside of its context look much worse than it is.  It can be ascribed a whole new meaning.  In this case a meaning that spoiled a young students career in politics.

The Internet is a world of strangers.  As Boyd observes, an invisible audience.  When we post things to social media networks we broadcast them through a mediated public.  Once it’s posted, we will likely have no idea who might see it or how many people see it.  Most importantly, we have no idea who might be interested in searching it up in the unforeseeable future.

Once a post becomes viral, for whatever reason, or gains traction in the mass media—that invisible audience becomes quite large.  This amplifies the consequences.

Sadly, this is event is only a repeat of many before and will continue to repeat in the future.  Our means of communicating has become so transparent that it transcends time and space only to end up in the hands of future employers or political opponents.  People are only now beginning to realize that what they post (or have posted) to the Internet may have real time consequences for their careers and future choices.  The sad thing about this story is that Ala Buzreba—a young and passionate politician—has now been removed from politics.  Her future career has been tarnished before it even became a reality.

Smear tactics are the lowest form of politics.  And the very lowest form of journalism.

Source: Boyd, Danah (2007). “Social Network Sites: Public, Private or What?”. http://www.danah.org/papers/KnowledgeTree.pdf