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June 03, 2008

The Nostalgic Multitude

"The multitude...is united by the risk which derives from 'not feeling at home,' from being exposed omnilaterally to the world."
That quote is from Paolo Virno's A Grammar of the Multitude and in my mind it is one of the most vital points to consider when looking at subjectivity in new media environments.

If we are to view Virno's multitude as consisting of a distributed network of nodes (subjects) and edges (labor, affect), then this quote would imply that the shepherd of this state is a broad cultural, social, political, and subjective nostalgia. I don't mean nostalgia in the restorative, conservative sense, but one derived from the construction of the word itself - with nostos meaning to return home and algos meaning pain or longing. The pain of longing to return home - this seems quite close to Virno's own (translated) construction.

So what does it mean that the multitude is essentially nostalgic? Mostly it is indicative of the state of constant flux and unease that characterizes Virno's multitude, with its pinion of affect and immateriality. There is no fixed state for the multitude it is a construction that is characterized by constant subjective shifting and slippage. This, combined with the lack of centrality in a decentralized conceptual organization, sets the stage for nostalgia. The 'home' necessary for reference in nostalgia is imaginary, is always that which has just passed - or that which is believed to come.

The multitude is a state of perpetual nostalgia.

May 20, 2008

(De)Individuating Data

The issue of personal data on the in a networked, archived environment is one that arises time and time again. It's not too strange that this is the case, since most forms of interaction, entertainment, business, and publishing via the web involve the exchange of personal information more often than not. At the same time, the exchange of personal data is nothing new to western society, but most living generations are used to doing it with pen, paper, and stamps rather than browsers, servers, and fiber optic cables.

Leaving trails of data through our everyday business on the web - search history, social networking profiles, credit card transactions, blog posts, instant messages, e-mail, and so on - is the easiest way to see the ways a networked environment acts as a simultaneously individualizing and multiplying subjective force. We are at once going through a process of individuation in our ceaseless stream of archived data, yet wit every step forward we leave another footprint behind. This footprint does not cease to signify once your foot leaves it however, in fact, in the case of social network profiles especially they continue to signify as something of a subjective prosthesis. It is the tendrils of these multiple paths we wear that ultimately serve to individuate and deindividuate us.

So what are we to do about personal data archived in a networked environment? Should we legislate our problems away as Bruce Schneier suggests in his article on Wired.com? This seems to be a flaccid solution at best; one that has been debunked time and time again by hacktivists, pranksters, and criminals alike.

Perhaps we should make like China and some aspects of the loss of control and use our constant stream of data in our favor? A more friendly example of this is TrackMeNot, the Firefox extension that provides a degree of privacy through the creation of random meaningless data. How might such a thing affect the implicit indivuating processes involved in online interaction?

I suppose the answer might shake out over the next few years, but I'd say it's more likely that the issue of personal data on the web will be a perpetual battleground.

April 02, 2008

Major League Baseball and Indicies of Subjectivity

Last week was the beginning of the baseball season so my mind has tended to wander in that direction of late. Really, though, there are few organizations that put as much stock in the idea of a digitized, commodified, and remote subjectivity than Major League Baseball.

Say what you will about their new media practices - from denying teams the ability to create their own websites, to cracking down on unofficial highlight reels posted to video sites - MLB has usually been one step ahead of the game. They seem to understand what's coming down the new media road and effectively build up their defenses to prevent their government sanctioned monopoly from some imagined threat.

It's no surprise then, that this organization which pioneered DRM strategies with their online video (to add another to the list) has been active in attempting to lock down the subjective product of the game of baseball.

As the players go out into the field and make their way through the nine innings, they are not only in the process of producing fan-turnout, wins, and other such affective quantities, they are producing data points. And in baseball, data points are a huge business. Everything from base running and pitching to weather and streak length are measured by amateurs and professionals alike. These data points are then used on cards, in fantasy leagues, or in home-brewed prediction engines.

These data points are the result of an individual's actions within a particular context - so we might safely say that they are the result of subjective interaction in multiple. Batter A would never have had that .350 average if it weren't for Pitcher B, after all.

So when MLB goes into one of its fits over who owns the historical records of game data and statistics like averages and percentages, what they are really expressing is their desire to enact a great degree of control over these indices of subjectivity. They have seen for some time now that value in a networked environment stem from the affective and subjective production of an individual or collection of individuals. So, like with past keen insights like predicting that the Web would take off, MLB is doing everything they can to get a firm grip before their customers or teams are able to take notice.

February 26, 2008

The Red Wagon, or The Subject is a Battlefield

I was re-reading some sections of Virno's A Grammar of the Multitude this week in search of a a little story - one which, after nearly combing the entire text, I realized was actually written by Zizek. Oops.

The story was the one of the "empty wheelbarrow," in which a guard suspects a factory worker of stealing, so every night as the worker leaves, he carefully searches his pockets, his wheelbarrow, and his hands - all of them empty. This goes on for months, and the guard is never able to find a stolen item. Years later the guard meets the worker by chance and tells him that he knew he was stealing something, but could never figure out what. The ex-worker replies that he had been stealing wheelbarrows all along.

When I first read this story (in what I thought was Virno...) it struck a tone of familiarity - I had read a children's book with this same tale one summer, years ago, when I was visiting my grandmother. I can't recall the name but the book was printed sometime in the 1950s. The basic narrative was the same, except instead of a worker, there was a child; instead of a factory guard, there was a policeman; and instead of a wheelbarrow, there was a red wagon.

Another key difference was that the wagon, unlike the worker's wheelbarrow, was not empty, but full of sand, cans, or some other sort of junk. The policeman would search through the junk and fail to notice the stolen wagon carrying it.

I was searching for this story, not for the same reasons that Zizek raised it (for him, the wheelbarrow is the Iraq war), but because I think the idea of the junk-filling the wagon, distracting from the wagon itself is a potential analogy for networked subjectivity - and, particularly, many common readings of it.

One quote I did unearth in my re-reading of Virno was this: "The subject is a battlefield." This is the pivotal description of subjectivity in an networked-archival environment. Multiple pre-individual elements are in a constant state of motion and an endless shifting game within the concept of the individual, and this fact is underscored in a networked-archival situation which allows the reification of multiple tendrils of identity.

Yet, like the boy's red wagon, this internally stormy and uneven individual is obscured by its contents. If we focus on a single MySpace profile, a particular thread of blog entries, a record of purchases from an online store, we are likely missing the underlying point. Creating these things is the act of creating a pre-individual element. Together, however, they create a situation through which we can sneak a wagon.

October 23, 2007

On Subjective Projection in Facebook

It has been nearly two weeks since my last entry and longer since my last entry that was more than a link-post. I've been off covering a music festival, traveling a bit, and following sports. But my time for excuses are over. Apologies to the few of you who may have come to expect an entry every Tuesday.

The most recent issue of The Economist had a piece about how two of Facebook's innovations have made it the new talk-of-the-town among Silicon Valley types. One of these features is their Facebook Platform, which allows third party developers to create applications for Facebook users, and the second is Facebook's news feed and mini-feed, which aggregate recently updated data from an individual user's friends. When this second feature was first released, there was a lot of skepticism and downright anger (on Facebook especially) about the news feed's intrusion into a user's privacy. You'll have to excuse a quick "I told you so" on my part, because it seems that my analysis that this feature merely enhanced the central purpose of online social networking sites has been proven correct over time.

How could it fail after all? Participation in social networking sites is more of an act of exhibitionism and of positioning oneself as an object for other's gaze than most want to admit. Just as much as users use these services to browse other people's information, they use them to express their own in intricate and deliberate ways. These are spaces where subjectivity and identity become fluid in both the presentation of data and the ways through which it is consumed. The news feed merely brings this point to the surface - it tells the user that s/he is there to find out information about his or her friends and to let them in on updates as well.

A friend of mine used this network of spectacle to amusing use as an April Fool's Day prank this year. He and his long-time girlfriend "broke up" on Facebook by removing their "in a relationship with..." status from their profiles. This went out to their friends via the news feed, and what followed was a stream of shock and sympathy that culminated in their mothers calling them in distress.

What this anecdote shows is that the streams of data that we use to construct and position an online subjectivity (to the extent that we have control over it) are viewed far more seriously than the informal nature of the medium might imply. There is an immediate translation between our networked selves and our offline selves that is often more direct than indirect.

Facebook was on to something when they introduced the news feed. In doing so they identified one of the central purposes for online social networks: subjective production and projection.

September 25, 2007

The False Ideology of Individuality, or, Always Multiply

I've just been reading an entry at Media Studies 2.0 entitled "MySpace and Legendary Psychasthenia" and while I generally like his blog quite a bit, I found myself disagreeing with a lot of what William was writing and his methods of argument. Essentially, the essay bemoans a loss of "individuality" in our subjective immigration to online social networks. This is an argument that has been heard before, and one that does have some valuable claims, but ultimately the entry fails to properly account for the multiplicity of subjective interaction and archivization via online social networks. And by thus mistaking the global for the local and vice-versa, it's tough to give the point much weight.

The piece begins by setting up a spuriously dichotomous thesis: "I want to suggest that Myspace, Facebook and their ilk represent, not a flowering of self and individuality but its psychasthenic absorption, renunciation and loss." In this situation online social networks can have one of two effects: a "flowering of self and individuality" or "psychasthenic absorption, renunciation and loss." Defining these as the two subjective potentialities for these new media is almost ridiculous. Should anyone take seriously claims that these media could do either? Generally, I dismiss both the most dire and the most optimistic assessments of online social networks for what they are: hyperbole.

Secondly, neither in the thesis nor in the body of the essay is "individuality" properly defined or contextualized. Is it merely the difference of definable characteristics between individual subjects? Must actions of social conformity be viewed as undesirable? Do they not allow us to have a functional society in the first place? To use the term "individuality" in such a decontextualized, more-is-better manner is really to ascribe to a vague and misleading ideology of personal gratification, fueled by a healthy dose of egotism.

The body of the essay often refers to users of MySpace and Facebook as though they use one and only one of these services at the exclusion of the other and any other socio-archival web-based media. Despite citing Sherry Turkle's cogent and convincing defense of a multiple and distributed online self, William goes on to ignore it an focus entirely on a user's individual profile on one of the two major online social networks, and thus drawing questionable conclusions about online subjectivity: "The self is set free as a profile, fixed to another point – to a non-space existing only as proprietal code within an electronic network – and subsequently lost to us."

Within this sentence the following assumptions are made: (1) subjective tendrils, once created, are entirely divorced from their creator; (2) online social networks are a "non-space"; and that (3) our online self is thus "lost to us." The first assumption falls into the trap that many writing about online identity fall into - the idea that when we turn off our computer that we have severed ties to the actions we have just performed. We interact on these networks long after we cease to alter our profiles, just look at the phenomenon of online graveyards and death-centric social networks. Yes these are simulacra, but they continue to signify as subjective proxies for us after we have moved on in one way or another. A profile has not been "set-free" but retains as much a connection to its creator as anything we create does if not more so on account of its personal-representational mode. Just because it exists on a server somewhere does not imply that we have somehow lost ownership or subjective links.

The second assumption, that online social networks are a "non-space," requires quite a leap. The idea that online social networks should be considered within the realm of "space" at all is merely a rhetorical and metaphorical construction to begin with. This is the familiar ideology of "cyberspace" - which is actually used several times in the essay - an ideology that began in science fiction novels and has been used to conceptualize a series of new media that did not fit easily into any other boxes we might have. On top of this, the term is used in an inexplicably derogatory manner. Even if this was a non-space, the reason why this serves to divorce or homogenize networked subjectivity goes unexplained.

The third assumption is merely the result of the first two. Certainly if we were to actually be setting little chunks of our identity "free" in a "non-space," we'd be at a loss. The fact is however that we never manage to lose our subjective tendrils online, and when you consider (as William does not) the multiplicity of venues for subjective in/dividuation and construction and the fact that many of these tendrils continue to exist and thrive in a networked-archival environment - it seem like we actually are seeing exactly what Turkle describes.

That said, the essay does hit on some key points, and William's analysis of interaction through online social networks as perpetual semiotic (or affective, I might suggest) labor is spot on - even if he doesn't apply it to a multiple-subjective environment. For these reasons - and for the sake of debate - I do recommend this essay.

July 09, 2007

On Death, Social Networks, and Johnny Cash on Facebook

On this blog I've often written about death and nostalgia in the context of online social networks. It's a theme one sees expressed throughout the web as it becomes a medium for our projected and distributed subjectivities. From Elliott Malkin's thoughtful piece, Cemetery 2.0, to MySpace pages acting as informal memorial sites as well as embodiments of/surrogates for the deceased (many collected at MyDeathSpace), it's clear that online social networks' archival purpose serves a nostalgic impulse for both the past and the present. Profiles are created and edited to reflect an idealized, nostalgized present vision of the individual - and if this person passes away, their presence (or, presents) remain.

So I was intrigued when I saw TechCrunch's post about Respectance, which is a well designed online memorial site billed as a social network for the deceased. In some aspects it resembles a very slick version of FindAGrave - which allows visitors to leave virtual flowers at the gravestone and personalized notes - but it also seems to imply a presentness usually reserved for the living or the living online spaces of the deceased (a MySpace page for an expired teen, for example). Each dead person has associated media such as videos and photos and even allowing them to have "friends."

While I can't say that such developments as Respectance or FindAGrave's social aspects are all that surprising, they do feel a bit forced. The developers have clearly caught on to the same sense of nostalgia that surrounds social networks and is seen most strongly around profiles of the deceased, but these pages come across as more of a false and shallow nostalgia compared to the ad-hoc memorial one sees on Facebook or MySpace. On these latter sites, the dead walk among the living as though they have not departed at all, where as Respectance seeks to segregate the dead.

Several years ago, when Facebook had just recently launched, I created a profile for Johnny Cash, a short time before he died (if I remember correctly). While at the time I had no high-minded purpose, it was simply an expression of my admiration and a test of the limits of the then-new service, the profile became an informal memorial for the singer after his death. He had hundreds of friends at schools across the country and many users would leave messages on his birthday every year. I tried to respect visitors' use of the profile as a space for remembrance by accepting all friends, pictures, and comments.

Slightly less than a year ago, the Facebook administrators deleted the Johnny Cash profile I made (there are still several up, but I proudly claimed to be the first). I sent and e-mail to an administrator stating my curatorial purpose with the profile, and in the response I received was this sentence:

"...one of Facebook's main goals is to facilitate meaningful relationships between living people. We do not want to have a number of profiles of deceased celebrities intermingling with living users."
A fair point in some respects, but ultimately it shows that Facebook fails to see profiles as anything beyond an expression of individual identity. In practice, a profile is far from singular, incorporating the flows of many subjectivities. The profiles of the deceased embody this multiple subjective view even more so by removing the originating singularity and remaining as a memorial space for users.

The Johnny Cash profile was a successful memorial exactly because he was intermingling with living users. This is something that the people at Facebook and Repectance both fail to see.

June 12, 2007

The Tip of the Iceberg

A couple of days ago Eric Kluitenberg sent to the nettime list the text of talk he gave at the INFOWARROOM series in Amsterdam last week. He makes a number of good points in the text relating to the rise of user-generated media and its effects on subjectivity. I couldn't help but bristle at one section of the piece:

"The current explosion of self-publication in countless weblogs, on community websites, self-video portals, in on-line diaries, web fora and a plethora of individual websites is only the visible sign of an undercurrent that was already for many years transforming 'the public' into an amalgamation of increasingly unrelated subjectivities and singular interest groups."
This sentence begins with an observation that is not made often enough in new media analysis - that what we see in the form of blogs and other forms of social media is merely the visible effects of a larger cultural and subjective current, or at best the enabling vehicle. The blog is not what is fascinating, but what leads people to read them, write them, and socialize with them. The action is a product of a slow revelation of a relational mode of subjectification, predicated on and in many ways exacerbating a reliance on multiplicity.

The second half of the sentence, however, does not strike the same chord of approval in my thinking. The idea of "increasingly unrelated subjectivities and singular interest groups" specifically strikes me as out of line given the rest of piece. The many-year transformation of which he speaks might (and appropriately) refer to the rise of the ever more precise marketing data that has been collected over the past few decades, which to a large extent acts as a precursor to new media business models. Yet just as blogs and social media merely provide the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the larger currents, such marketing-based specificity is merely a surface in itself, hiding another reality. Despite the appearance of more and more interest groups, demographic divisions, or socialities, this does not imply neat social and subjective divisions, but, in fact, the opposite. With increasing outlets for identification, and single one becomes inadequate for all but the rarest of folk. Indeed the very plethora of identifying possibilities stretches the process of subjectification to the point that multiplicity and relationality are the only options.

This stretching of the subject then finds an outlet in the hyper-individuality expressed in many examples of social media, which - as the author knows, judging by the first half of this sentence - is just the visual surface for much larger motion. This hyper-individuality belies its multiple, relational constitution.

May 01, 2007

Collaborative or Navel-Gazing?

Two recent entries on danah boyd's blog have gotten me thinking about the relationship between democracy, virtuosity, and narcissism in online social networks. The latter of these two entries addresses the recent flare up over Facebook.com's alleged (and disputed) banning of an "Arban LGBT" group, and the former revisits the connection between narcissism and the generation currently in their teens to mid-twenties (I fall within this range and have written on the topic of narcissism before as well).

Paolo Virno, perhaps best in A Grammar of the Multitude, writes about the concept of virtuosity and its connection to affective labor and a shift toward a new type of politics. Virtuosity, to perhaps over-simplify, is the creation of value in the process of production itself. To draw upon the familiar root of the word as an example, an expert pianist experienced on stage holds a higher value than that same pianist experienced through a CD. The act of performance in this case, is an act of virtuosity. The very same concept can easily be applied to production within online social networks: the value in the act of "friending" someone, for instance, is not in the pixelated real estate it occupies on one's profile, but rather the message this act sends when experienced by others. This can be extended to most aspects of subjective construction within these environments. The page itself hold little or no value, whereas the affect produced in its creation is ultimately the aim of the labor.

Virno and others, such as Ned Rossiter in his book Organized Networks for one, see this type of networked affective/creative labor as implying a new, post-democratic (or, even, a hyper-democratic) politics. Yet, at least within online environments, has this shift not been made possible by this alleged, rampant narcissism? If the users of social networks like Facebook were not so focused on the careful construction of their online personae, we would likely not see them flourish - with the maligned LGBT group as an example of their success. It seems that perhaps Virno's idea of virtuosity has found an ally in my generation's supposed masturbatory self-interest. Inflated self-esteem has perhaps led to a world in which affective labor and subjective production have gained increased status in relation to tradtional forms of labor.

Collaborative or navel-gazing? Masturbatory or communal? Perhaps these are no loinger disparate concepts in a space reaching toward a post-democratic, virtuosic politics.

April 24, 2007

On The Last Tag Show

The following is a review of the net art piece, The Last Tag Show, orginally written for furtherfield.org.

The Last Tag Show, a live “net performance,” took place on Last.FM on April 14, 2007. Last.FM is a social networking site centered around tracking its users' music listening habits and creating a profile based on that data. As a user listens to music, the track title and artist name are sent to his/her profile and listed publicly, allowing the service to create connections between users and the musicians they listen to. Another notable aspect of the service is its reliance on user participation, through wikis, in the creation of artist profiles.

The Last Tag Show cleverly took advantage of Last.FM's technical structure to pull off a 24 hour performance. As the allotted time progressed, viewers saw tracks and artists appear in succession on Last.FM user profile lasttagshow's profile page. These were no ordinary songs however, the artists instead altered the metadata of audio tracks such that when they were uploaded to the Last.FM servers they appeared as a multi-character dialogue. The principal personages in the performance include “Moderator,” “Hannah,” “Voiceover,” “Instructor,” “Marck,” “Zita Vass,” and “Gregg,” with occasional guest stars like Thom Yorke. Since each of these characters take the role of a musician in Last.FM's data-centric view, each of them have a dedicated user-editable artist page, which The Last Tag Show took full advantage of by developing the identities of their subjects in these spaces. As such, Moderator, for example, existed beyond his archived snippets of speech, complete with a photograph and short biography.

Yet while this was a particularly clever subversion of Last.FM's intended use, judging by their own description of the piece, it seems that the artists failed to fully think through the conceptual implications of their performance. The very idea of a “net performance” is immediately suspect especially when in the context of a social network like Last.FM for whom archivization and aggregation takes precedence over the immediacy and ephemeral nature of live performance. So while inventive and whimsically guileful, The Last Tag Show as a performance was starkly out of place in an environment existing in the future as much as it looks to the past.

Yet, it is from this oversight that perhaps the most interesting aspect of the piece arises. After the performance was finished and the Show creators had moved on, their once purely diegetic characters began to take on a life of their own outside the confines of that single 24 hour period. It seems that there are a number of other Last.FM users who listen to tracks in which the artist is listed as “Voiceover” or “Papa” (another character in the Show) and a number of other names. As these other users consume their oddly labeled tracks, the artist profiles, which served as a stable signifier for the Show's players, began to change. Suddenly their “most listened to tracks” were not out-of-context snippets of dialogue, but what seemed to be...actual songs; and the very real possibility of users coming in and subtly changing Gregg's biography comes to mind.

Indeed, the fact that these fictional characters have the ability to continue to “live” - produce and be produced - long after their utility to the performance has ended, is what makes The Last Tag Show so interesting, and the limited period of its run-time so constricted. Where the creators began this piece as a “hack” of a social networking site, in the end it may turn out that they are the ones hacked - by their own creations.

April 17, 2007

On Paradigms of Cultural Tectonics

I've just read an entry on Autonomy & Solidarity by Gary [last name not given], entitled "Holloway on Negri -- Going in the Wrong Direction or Mephistopheles: Not Saint Francis of Assisi". I read largely because of my growing interest in Italian autonomism, but I think a few of his points about the danger of using paradigms to describe cultural shifts have particular resonance in the tech and blogging worlds - or, really, the tech blogging world. So as much as I might like to address his critique of Empire, it won't be here.

One of Gary's central dissatisfactions with Hardt and Negri's Empire is their reliance on the idea of a paradigm shift, e.g. modernity to post-modernity, Fordism to post-Fordism, or discipline to control. He sees this reliance as a method that only serves to divorce cultural phenomena from real, potential revolutionary action. The reliance on paradigms does, indeed, lead one to imply fantastic/phantasmal periods of stasis in contrast with periods of movement; though I'd doubt that anyone employing such devices as seeing them as anything but relative.

As much as Gary witmesses this in this resurgence of positive autonomism, we can also see the over-use of dual paradigms in tech blogs, especially during the heat of "Web 2.0" speculation. This is not only because these writers genuinely believe that we have moved from "vertical to horizontal" orgainization (or "mountainous to flat" or anyother such shift). The rhetorics of the blogosphere have amplified the reliance on paradigm creation. In an environment where blog entry titles count for a majority of the content the declaration that one era/moment/product has died and another as taken its place is far more appealing than a declaration that things are far less simple than we would like to believe. It seemed that as soon as I began to read references to "Web 2.0" I also began to read calls for its systematic evisceration. The rhetoric of the blogosphere relies heavily on the constant creation of hyperbolic paradigm tectonics - largely as a result of its structurally implied politics as opposed to its individual actors.

Yet beyond merely creating a more palatable cognitive landscape, perhaps the proliferation of paradigmatic tectonics also has a beneficial effect. When players are operating within a context driven by paradigms - such as the tech blogosphere or, apparently, contemporary autonomism - they are operating within the neat framework provided to them. When the cultural trajectory is painted in such clean theoretical lines, this may encourage experimentation that might otherwise not be taken by realists. A good example of this in the tech world is perhaps Attention Trust, about whom I've written before. AT - to grossly over-simplify - is operating under the understanding that we will soon be shifting from a world of feral online identity to one of a cultivated and individually controlled identity. In anticipation of this paradigmatic shift what they have come up with is a tool that allows every individual to track their every web-movement - recognizing the value in these ebbs and flows. Without the aid of paradigmatic shifts as a guide for development, they might not be experimenting in this area; we might as easily say that without the paradigm of the shift from a state of nature to a regulated social existence to spur intellectual experimentation, political philosophy would find itself in less of an advanced state.

So, while I do indeed see the danger in reliance on paradigms to describe ongoing cultural tectonics, it is also important to recognize paradigm creation as a necessary vehicle for cultural and intellectual experimentation toward the goal of larger change.

March 06, 2007

Social Media, Nostalgia, and the Multitude

Before I launch into this post, I want to note a couple things: First of all I'm going to be at South by Southwest all of next week for both the interactive and music portions. If you're interested in meeting up, drop me a line at swarming - at - gmail.

Secondly, an excellent new curatorial blog called New Climates has just started up. New Climates is investigating the intersection of art, climate change, and network culture and it has a seriously top-notch line-up of artists contributing. I strongly suggest that you check it out.


I'm in the middle of reading Virno's A Grammar of the Multitude - a blissfully short and refreshingly pithy text. In the very beginning pages, he makes a keen observation connecting the concept of the multitude with a sense of dislocation, a "not feeling at home":

"The people are one, because the substantial community collaborates in order to sedate the fears which spring from circumscribed dangers. The multitude, instead, is united by the risk which derives from 'not feeling at home,' from being exposed omnilaterally to the world."
To a large extent, Virno and others of Italian-operaist tendencies are pointing to flexible, mobile, and often affective labor in contrast to regionally and communally rooted modes of production, but this dislocated subjectivity can just as easily be applied to the forms of affective production that go on via the web and online social media networks. In fact Virno's observation provides a critical connection between nostalgia and the networked, distributed, subjective production we're witnessing with the likes of MySpace and interlinking blogs.

The linkages between feelings of dislocation and web-based interaction have been documented from the internet's earliest days. This has been commonly seen as a medium which collapses distance and makes regional or national identity inconsequential (I would argue that this isn't necessarily the case and that it has just as much ability to strengthen regional networks as it does global ones, but that is for another entry). While this perceived erasure provides a certain type of freedom, it also results in explicit dislocation. This is especially true with the rise of archived social media, in which our identities are projected and retained within the network, because after we sign off, our projected identity retains its interactive ability. Simply put: when you're asleep, people can still interact with your MySpace page. This is true with blogs and any other networked medium that archives its content. As a result, our dislocation as users becomes constant - it has not been relegated to our times of active participation as it might be with a chatroom or even a telephone call. So at the same time as our labor practices have become less secure, more mobile, more modular, our very subjectivity has been imbued with a sense of "not feeling at home" as Virno puts it.

This "not feeling at home" is concurrently the driving impulse of nostalgia which has the ability to provide a brief, if false, connection to this home. Svetlana Boym makes the distinction between restorative and reflective nostalgia - the former leading to nativist action and a sense of cultural superiority, the former resulting in a sense of melancholy and creative production. Within the context of web-based interaction, however, this distinction nostalgia is expressed in the formation and defense of new identity-groups and cultural practices divorced from regional identity. Blogging has become the nostalgic act of this generation, an implicit lament for times of imagined past when social life revolved around the town square/market/green, or even for the time when we all read the same papers and watched I Love Lucy.

These new forms of distributed, networked, and archived interaction have lead us to a widespread state of nostalgia. A nostalgia for the territorialized self resulting in the search for various forms of affective and subjective relocation.

February 27, 2007

Networked Narcissism

Today the Boston Globe has an article about a rise in narcissism among America's youth. It seems that the researchers were careful to construct a broad study (it lasted from 1982 through 2006), but they could not resist referencing (I don't want to go so far, nor do I think that the researchers would, as to say "blaming") the rise of online social networks when interviewed:

"'Current technology fuels the increase in narcissism,' Twenge said. 'By its very name, MySpace encourages attention-seeking, as does YouTube.'"
Before digging into this, I have to again stress that the focus of this research was far broader than narcissism as applied to online social networks, if it included such study at all. Perhaps it was merely the reporter who pressed Twenge to make a remark on these media, which have been such a hot topic lately, but, on very basic terms, she's right. MySpace, YouTube, Facebook, even blogs, wikis, and collaborative filtering technologies are intimately entwined with narcissism. This goes beyond the linguistic conntection Twenge points out with "You" and "My". One of the central attractions of these media is the ability to construct, project, and promote yourself, or a self that you envision within the context.

Yet what such cursory analyses of online social networks - especially in relation to matters of subjectivity and identity - often overlook is that this narcissism is taking place in a network of other entities also trying to assert themselves in a self-serving way. Logically, this should not make sense, any sort of system where actors are entirely self-interested and unconcerned with others would quickly fail (and, perhaps, this is a reason for the short lives of many online social networks). This networked narcissism, however, requires more than simply a mirror. Narcissims takes place in a social context in these media. Narcissus wasted away alone, staring at his image in the river until one day he found himself to be a flower, yet our contemporary networked Narcissuses thrive as much as looking at others as they do at themselves.

This is not exactly exhibitionism, because that too often implies a unidirectional gaze and these new media thrive on a reciprocated objectifying gaze. Users act out roles on both sides of this relationship, but one might see the seed that keeps this cycle going as narcissim. One has to believe that he is worthy of a generalized cultural gaze in order to participate, but at the same time one also has to acknowledge the generalized worthiness of others to sustain participation.

February 20, 2007

Three Thoughts on Control and Identity on the Web

I somehow wasn't able to find time to post last week, so for that I apologize. However, in that time I did come across a few items on the web that I wanted to remark on. When going back over them, I realized that a common explicit theme in each one is control within social/media networks. It, then, seems appropriate that I go over each one and look at how the concept of control:

Fred at Unit Structures: "Facebook Gifts: Pushing the limits of rationality"
In this entry, Fred - who closely and thoughtfully follows developments within and around the Facebook network - writes about the recent addition of Facebook "gifts," little icons that users can give to eachother for a $1 price. He touches on the issue of control beginning here:

"In Cyworld and SL, virtual commodities are persistent and explicitly tied to identity. In SL, if you buy a cool shirt, you get to wear it. In Cyworld, if you buy neat wallpaper for your minihome, it stays there and makes your house look better. In Facebook, the value tied to the transaction is less identity-centric. First, you are explicitly buying the gift for another person, and this gift simply shows up in their profile as a received gift."
Fred is spot-on in pointing out how these icons relate to the expression of identity, people are paying not to alter their own web-manifestation, but rather to mark another's. Yet, while I agree with his point that $1 is probably more than most college students will be willing to pay, we have to be careful not to underestimate the significance of social-classification within these media. For many users on Facebook and other similar services, one of the main purposes is not just to develop an identity within the network, but almost equally to alter the identities of others. If I were to give a gift to a friend on the service his/her expression of identity would be affected in a very real manner. It is the same basic process that happens through leaving messages on "the wall" or posting pictures of friends tagged with their name.

These media thrive not just on a unidirectional surveillance, but a distributed surveillance in which our actions, explicit and implicit, serve as a means of social control. So while this is not exactly the Panopticon, it is neither exactly the Society of Control, which equally relies on a more centralized construction of modulation and socialization.

The second item I was hoping to comment on was FreeYourID, a site which uses OpenID to provide identity management services, including e-mail, homepage, etc. I've often been wary of such services in the past. My thoughts are no different on FreeYourID. While I respect and agree with the goal of the service - to create a tool to better manage the connection between meat-space and networked selves - the rhetoric of centralization and control seem to go against the grain of the potential for the medium in which they are working. Services like this really do point to a Deleuzian-control future, where subjects each carry ID cards that let them through some doors but not others based on predetermined data. The most interesting thing going on in the space of identity and subjectivity is not individual control, but network control over subjectivity. In these networks the individual is composed of many, not one. My Facebook gift to you becomes a part of your subjective reality; to try to develop a system which denies this reality is one that makes me uncomfortable.

The next web-tidbit I'm going to talk about takes a different approach to control than FreeYourID. The entry "Control vs. Communication" on the 37Signals blog, tackles the dilemma of control head-on. The writer, Jason, advocates an approach to control that rests on the strength of the network surrounding a project rather than a set of built-in permissions:

"It is our belief that when you collaborate with trusted parties it’s important for people to be able to communicate any way they see fit. Preventing someone from saying or doing something often breaks these free flowing communication channels and introduces miscommunication or silence—two cancers of collaboration."
It is up to the constituent elements of the network to determine its interactive protocol. This is exactly what occurs in less-regulated networked environments anyway, but Jason is wrong to think that this approach is the antithesis to control. In fact, it is merely a different expression of it - one more appropriate for the environment.

I had a few more items I'd wanted to write about (including the amazing Botanicalls, check it out), but these three seem to get my point across. We are increasingly participating a in a networked, multiple subjectivity through our archived, web-based interactions. Our approaches to control and identity are going to have to take this into account whether that means repricing a toilet-paper icon on Facebook, rethinking our relationship to our online-selves, or collaborating in a distributed environment.

February 08, 2007

(The) Audience (2.0): Excerpts pt. 5 (final)

This is the final portion of the essay written for Audience 2.0. The first four can be found here (1, 2, 3, 4).

A New Audience?

And so we come to audience 2.0. 2.0 is generally a tag attached to differentiate software versions, like 'Firefox 1.5.0.6'—except there is no 1.0 as reference nor a 3.0 as destination. The pairing of {word} and 2.0 derives from Web 2.0—to state what must be obvious to anyone reading this. It's a formula that has become all-too-popular in recent months. We can guess at what audience 2.0 means through the immediate association. Where Web 2.0 implies everything from an aesthetic, to a business model, to a philosophy, audience 2.0 implies the other half of that equation. It is the people who use, experience, and interact with one another through whatever it is we may call “Web 2.0.” Audience 2.0 is an internet neologism, and as such its lifespan as a functional term is less important than its cause for existence.

What we're calling “audience 2.0” could perhaps represent a new power relationship, different from those of audience and the audience. Where within the audience, the person on the hearing end of the exchange becomes a subject to the control of the hyper-individual, defined purely in relation to him; and where within audience, the one giving audience holds the privileged position; I propose that we read audience 2.0 as a hybrid exchange within a wider emergent system, holding often contradictory aspects from both earlier readings of (the) audience. If audience implies active consumption on the part of a singular entity privileged with subjectivity, and the audience implies passive consumption on the part of a mass, devoid of identity or autonomy, then audience 2.0 implies a multiplicity that is at once singular and multiple, autonomous and fluid, solid and shattered, local and global, outward-facing and inward-looking: audience 2.0 is a networked subjectivity, it is a swarm.

Imagine hovering in a helicopter, hundreds of feet above a swarm of locusts devouring a field of crops. The locusts seem to move singularly, shifting from one section of the field to another, systematically and efficiently destroying livelihoods. They appear to be a monolithic entity from above. There is a purpose; there is a will. Nothing is anarchic about the locusts from this vantage.

Now imagine the farmer whose crops are being devastated. Naturally, he runs out of his house and tries to kill all the locusts he could manage. Soon he finds himself in the midst of the swarm – locusts going every which way, left, right, up, down, under, over, colliding with and eating everything in sight. How could this be the same phenomenon as was seen from the helicopter? Interior madness, exterior grace; global effect contrasts local action. The swarm is able to both hold anarchy and exude singular purpose—it is an edgeless, centerless multiplicity.

The concept of the swarm does not simply apply to the many users collecting around a system like del.icio.us, it extends to these users’ interiorities. Our interactions through these media have made us swarm-like as a population and as individuals. Audience 2.0, as I propose we conceive it, harbors contradictions and networks of subjectivity on both the level of multiplicity and that of the individual-as-multiple. The distinction has collapsed, the audience has learned to give audience, the tension between hyper- and hypo-individuality has given way to distributed control, and we project ourselves onto the larger cultural archive in ever more nuanced ways.

Audience 2.0: while the term may be short-lived and derivative, the cultural roots from which it has sprung represent a fundamental shift in they way we must think about interaction and subjectivity.

February 06, 2007

Death, Memory, Nostalgia, and Social Network Sites

I've been wanting to write on the issue of death in social network sites for sometime now, but I've always held off because it is such a daunting topic that it would require far more space than any blog could tolerate. Death, memory, nostalgia: each changes within these new media. How does forgetting function in an archival network? How that which has passed affect that which will occur now as opposed to times before the advent of these network cultures? This is stuff more suited to a lengthy, exhaustive study than to a weekly, often extemporaneous, entry. Yet, the entry "Mourning and Digital Culture" from We Make Money Not Art popped up on my del.icio.us after one or two clicks today.

This entry links to some of the critical pieces that address these issues like Elliott Malkin's Cemetery 2.0 and MyDeathSpace and several others. The first of these two examples explores what happens when death is brought into a networked environment in which it had previously not existed, by an ancestor of the decesased. On the one hand this raises questions of identity and subjectivity - the data entered is that of a real person, this data interacts as though it were this subject, and yet it has been done by someone else. On the other hand it only makes clearer the networked aspects of traditional expressions of mourning and posthumous network culture in genealogical practice, an inherenly nostalgic act. Just as my grandfather explored the memories and legacies of his biological predecessors, recording them through the collection of text, dates, and narrative, Malkin records his ancestor through means that have recently become known as the interactive means of youth. This brings a new perspective on services like Geni, which allow people to create personal genealogical histories: essesntially allowing people to enter their ancestors into a type of socially interactive network, albeit one focused on the on the dead.

The second, MyDeathSpace, in a somewhat opposite manner, operates by highlighting the death that arises within social network sites. The MySpace pages (and pages of any other social network site for that matter) of those that die also references genealogy, but more in the archival, archeological, or perhaps social sense. By preserving the recorded interactions of the deceased we engage in genealogy, but by preserving ephemeral interactions in socially archived networks we are at once foregrounding the future recording of death as well as the the guarantee of continued subjectivity, though perhaps in the form of forced collective memory or nostalgia. This archived network speaks death at the same time as it records life.

This is best continued another time.

The final section of (The) Audience (2.0) will be posted in two or three days.

January 31, 2007

(The) Audience (2.0): Excerpts pt. 4

What follows is the fourth part of the article originally written for Audience 2.0. This section tries to carve out a subjectivity that lies neither in "the audience" nor "audience" but somewhere in between.

I also wanted to note that I've written a short piece on a related topic (P2P relationality) for the P2P Foundation wiki.

Of And Within Multiplicities

Recent developments on the web have changed the way people interact with each other and themselves. We are transferring more and more of ourselves into web-based media, effectively creating a distributed cultural archive of identity. In the most explicit ways, we do this through social networking sites, in less explicit ways through stored search queries, tagging, and attention logs. One way to describe our current mode of web-based interaction is to call it self- and social-classification. The root of interaction among these new media has been to classify ourselves and others. Our interactions leave marks on the participants, and these marks are stored and become the basis for future interaction and perception. Web-based media has literalized this to the point where these marks—and their archivization—are the oft-unspoken goal of interaction. As a result, we continually develop our grand and subtle, yet all-encompassing and controlling, cultural archive of identity.

One of the best examples of social classification is a service that many readers probably use every day: del.icio.us. I choose del.icio.us as an example because of its simplicity and its ability to incorporate diverse aspects of a user's web experience. Users interact with one another and data within the same system, often blurring the distinction between the two. For those unfamiliar, del.icio.us, now owned by Yahoo!, is a social bookmarking tool. A user can bookmark a web page, “tag” it with terms so he can find it later, and share these tags and pages with other people.

The other day after coming home from work, I looked at my del.icio.us network. One's “network” aggregates the tagged pages of designated users and displays them chronologically along with their tags. I found that my friend had tagged an article in The Economist about economists blogging using the tags “academia” and “blogs.” It seemed interesting so I read it and bookmarked it in my own del.icio.us account. I tagged it with “academic,” “blogs,” and “economics.” I then saw that it had been saved by a few others, looked at who they were, how they described it, and what they tagged it with. Afterward, I navigated to the del.icio.us front page to see what everyone else who uses the service, when aggregated, found bookmark-worthy.

This simple activity of bookmarking and browsing bookmarks demonstrates one of the ways in which we begin to exist on the web and interact through self- and social-classification. First let's look at the ways in which I classified myself. It begins when I chose the user name “swarming.” I chose it to correspond with my blog, Swarming Media. It became a top-level signifier for my presence within the system. I have chained a piece of my identity to the textual production of that blog and its own array of associations. I could have chosen “nlovejoy” or “johnny_cash” just as easily. This choice is an assertive act of self classification, a performance.

Next, there is the choice of the people in my network. Who I add is as assertive as the choice of my name. It creates the content I will be exposed to and associates me with a variety of other interests. By putting someone in my network I am actively tying myself not only to their identity, but to their bookmarks and tags as well. This group of users could be read as a partial surrogate for my own identity. Thirdly, I classify myself through the tags I choose to use. For The Economist's article I chose “academic” over “academia,” “academics,” or even “bullshit.” After applying many tags, they are aggregated into a hierarchy according to frequency. This tag cloud, as a direct result of the terms I chose, also marks me with a particular identity. Finally, and most obviously, there is the choice of pages that I bookmark. The content of my page is filled with this material. Whatever I bookmark is sent out directly to my network and indirectly to the entire del.icio.us system. I am what I see. I mark myself through the pages I find to be worthy of public, associative display.

These items are—to use reflexive terminology—tags of identity. When I bookmark a page, I am tagging myself through my choice of object and tag terms. Other people tag me when they add me to their network, when they bookmark an entry from my blog, or whenever a member of my network uses del.icio.us. My identity here is created collectively and socially. The basic unit of interaction is classification. As I modulate my own identity, I also modulate those of the people whose pages I mark and those who have added me to their network. Identity is no longer fully autonomous nor entirely fluid; I have a great deal of control over the boundaries through self-classification, but other users play a major role in defining my surrogate, online self. Interaction through self- and social-classification leads to porous subjectivities.

While an individual's identity is defined by multiple sources, there exists an emergent identity of the system. As data from every user within del.icio.us is aggregated, categories like popular tags or hot items rise to the top. This begins to influence the tagging activities of users within the system itself. This upper-layer view not only represents the collective tagging actions of the users, but it also starts a process of systemic feedback. Users read the “hot items” and decide to tag it themselves or read a popular tag and work that into their personal taxonomy. Thus the aggregate, emergent entity begins to influence the individual identity just as much as the individual influences the aggregate.

The distinctions between individuals and groups of individuals are at once both more distinct—through increased classification—yet less autonomous—through systemic feedback and social-classification. The member of the crowd no longer loses his identity under the weight of the mass, but at the same time he loses the ability to define this reinstated selfness on his own. We have each come to harbor internal multiplicities, just as we are a unit within an external multiplicity. Put in another way, it is no longer clear whether we’re the audience or giving audience. The unidirectional flow of power between individual and mass that has fueled the two previous conceptions of audience has broken down and shifted to a tension between, and within masses of individuals. These new media have not only enabled a greater connectivity, but questioned the very concept of “the individual.”

January 24, 2007

(The) Audience (2.0): Excerpts pt.3

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been posting sections of the piece I wrote for the inaugrural issue of Audience 2.0. I'm looking forward to the web-publication's launch, but I wanted to give this article some air after the time of writing in August. So expect, over time, to see the serialized version, the full version appearing on its own page sometime in the near future.

What follows is the third section. The fourth is called "Multiplicities Of and Within Identity"

Audience and Spectacle

One who gives audience is on the opposite side of the dynamic than West's mob or the Shakira fans; he is not only endowed with an autonomous identity but, more importantly, he remains in control of the interaction. To examine this it might be helpful to take a look at a few key points from a classic text of psychoanalytic, feminist film theory: Laura Mulvey's “Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema.” Mulvey describes the relationship between the viewer and the figures on screen from a Freudian/Lacanian perspective. Sparing the details of the entire essay—and no doubt over-simplifying it in the process—one particular passage illustrates the relationship between the film audience and the actors (speakers) on screen:

“Traditionally, the woman displayed has functioned on two levels: as erotic object for the characters within the screen story, and as erotic object for the spectator within the auditorium, with a shifting tension between the looks on either side of the screen. ... As the spectator identifies with the main male protagonist, he projects his look on to that of his like, his screen surrogate, so that the power of the male protagonist as he controls events coincides with the active power of the erotic look, both giving a satisfying sense of omnipotence.”
Here we can see that the spectator's gaze—his visual audience—becomes a tool of power and control. The act of looking becomes the signifier of the solid, autonomous identity of the male protagonist. The spectator's audience is merged with that of the protagonist's through a process of misrecognition. Audience, in this sense, is symbolic and subjective control.

An example that I'm anxious to bring up is Dirty Harry, the 1971, Clint Eastwood, hard-boiled cop movie. In it, Eastwood's character Harry Calahan hunts down a dangerously deranged, racist, counterculture sniper. Overt and unsubtle political and racial discussions aside, the film rests on the very idea that audience is control. The sniper attempts to control the San Francisco populace by watching (and killing) them with the aid of his scope; in parallel, Harry attempts to control the sniper by getting into a series of predicaments that require him to see the sniper without being seen. In fact, superior vision seems to be what makes Harry such a good cop in the first place. He manages to foil a bank robbery thanks to his keen observation of a suspicious (read: black and smoking) man waiting in a car. With his back turned to this scene, he asks the diner-counter cook if he can see what's going on. He doesn't—while Harry, facing the other direction, does. Eastwood has the omnipotence of universal vision, the perfect example of audience-as-control.

When Harry first manages to subdue the sniper, it is in the middle of a football field just as his partner turns on the flood lights. The sniper falls to the ground in the middle of the expanse, blinded by the light as Eastwood walks slowly toward him armed with full visual capacity. The sniper is defeated, ultimately, by being unable to avoid or return Harry’s gaze. The power construct favors the one able to give audience and belittles the one unable to return it. As the sniper's concept of self fully breaks down under the oppressive weight of Eastwood's visioned subject, he speaks madly and incoherently, while Harry is imbued with a calm and deliberate assurance of self and justice.

Audience has a deadly power.

January 16, 2007

(The) Audience (2.0): Excerpts pt.2

Following in the footsteps of Michel at the P2P Foundation, I'm going to be posting sections of the piece I wrote for the inaugrural issue of Audience 2.0. I'm looking forward to the web-publication's launch, but I wanted to give this article some air after the time of writing in August. So expect, over the next week or so, to see the serialized version, the full version appearing on its own page sometime in the near future.

What follows is the second section. The third is called "Audience and Spectacle"

The Audience and Celebrity Culture

The audience is large, the audience is faceless and undifferentiated. It is held together solely through its relationship to the speaker. It is anarchic—it must-be-controlled though outside forces. We need only to look so far as 20th-century celebrity culture to see this at work. Take, for example, Nathanael West's novella The Day of the Locust. At the very climax of the piece, we find protagonist Tod Hackett lost within, and washed about by a mob of regular folks in LA. Before they morph into an amoral, apolitical mass, these people are neighbors, friends, and the tritely individualized people he encounters on a daily basis. They had all gathered to watch what we would now call a red-carpet procession at a movie premier. Before the stars arrive, people retain a certain amount of individual selfness: they have names and they have faces. Yet at the point when the celebrities arrive, a madness takes over the crowd and their thin shells of identity break—those who once were weak and calm are strong and violent, those who once were neighborly are lecherous, those who were singular have become indistinct.

This shift happens partly in reaction to the perceived concentrated individuality of celebrity. The star is the “speaker” in this case, and LA is the audience. The constituents are powerless in front of the hyper-individual, the faced-one. The crowd of formerly autonomous entities are transformed into an undifferentiated, heaving, yet entirely anticipated multiplicity of violence and amorality—and while their force is great, it is undirected and necessarily the subject of control. As police swoop in to tame the mass, Tod has already lost all autonomous singularity in relation to his surroundings; his interior and exterior are enmeshed. He has difficulty differentiating himself and the siren he hears and his consciousness from his imagined painting.

What West highlights so well is the relationship between the perception of the celebrity hyper-individual and the hypo-individuals who constitute the audience. Celebrity culture represents a low point of the value of audience. The speaker's over-concentrated subjectivity leads to disproportionate power and control over the entities-made-faceless that make up the audience.

There was a time when I would commute into Boston every day through North Station, housed beneath the venue that was then called the Fleet Center. One evening on my way home, I ran into the arrival of several hundred attendants of a Shakira concert. Walking toward my track was particularly difficult, and I missed the train.

While waiting for the next departure, I noticed that a vast majority of the Shakira-attendees were dressed almost identically. They wore puffy hats with brims slightly angled to one side; tight, ornately patterned shirts exposing their midriffs; and mellow-toned skirts and jeans. Their style was not necessarily a common one—not one that I had specifically noticed before—but a mass of young women surrounded me, who had all apparently followed a dress code for the event.

I am hardly in a position to critique another's fashion decisions, but that evening revealed to me the power that the construct of celebrity has over the audience. Shakira's mere presence indicated to the young women that they must wear this set of clothing. The audience was subject to her implicit control. In most cases the outfit might demonstrate a prescribed uniqueness, but when placed next to such concentrated subjectivity as the singer, it stripped them of a faced individuality and transformed them into “the audience.” Celebrity culture breeds this stark gap between those who are allowed an autonomous self and those who are denied one. Even if the celebrity identity is created through a non-autonomous process, the end result, as seen publicly, is this purity of self.

The audience exists only in a relationship with the hyper-individual. On the one side are delicate egg-shell identities waiting to break, and on the other is the solid, impenetrable identity of celebrity. The audience may harbor a potential for action, but demands a measure of exterior control—the police in The Day of the Locust, ushers at the Shakira concert. And when this potential action is unleashed, it is anarchic.

The audience has a sad lot.

January 10, 2007

(The) Audience (2.0): Excerpts

Following in the footsteps of Michel at the P2P Foundation, I'm going to be posting sections of the piece I wrote for the inaugrural issue of Audience 2.0. I'm looking forward to the web-publication's launch, but I wanted to give this article some air after the time of writing in August. So expect, over the next week or so, to see the serialized version, the full version appearing on its own page sometime in the near future.

(The) Audience (2.0):
How Shakira, Dirty Harry, and del.icio.us have come to define interactive identity.

Like many, I am skeptical of internet neologisms. I've always given cyberspace a sidelong glance and blogosphere the hairy eyeball. This is not to say that these words are not important—they most certainly are—but rather to stress that their importance lies, not in the terms themselves, but in the cultural contexts that produce a need for them

We pulled cyberspace from the world of science fiction in order to conceptualize a medium that defied any previous notions of communication. We felt more at home in a space—something we can touch, explore, or “surf”—than in a disembodied interconnected network spewing packets of data in all directions. Blogosphere, in turn, has allowed us to envision a topography and politics for a field of social and textual interaction.

Now I have the opportunity to dissect audience 2.0. This is an internet neologism if there ever was one. Any discussion of audience 2.0 must begin, however, by putting audience under the microscope.

The Value of Audience

Adopted directly from the French, audience came into English around 1374 meaning “the action of hearing,” as in “to give audience”(Oxford English Dictionary). Originally derived from the Latin verb audire, audience implied the effort of paying aural attention. Notice that this first English usage pairs give with audience. Giving requires consent and control by the one committing the action and a relatively passive receiver. When I gave my friend a cupcake on his birthday, he was more or less a non-actor in the process, having only to be present when the interaction became, for him, reception. The one giving owns this process of transference. Back in 1374 then, it was the person using his aural capacities that was in control; he gave his audience. The capacity to hear is a bit like the cupcake: a commodity, an object that has some value to be transferred.

Yet hearing abilities are not entirely like a cupcake. For one, the ability to hear is generally not decreased in the act of giving audience, whereas when I gave my roommate the cupcake, I was one cupcake poorer (fortunately, I saw this coming and had purchased one for myself). In economic terms, audience is non-rival. Secondly, my sweet, frosted gift was a one-way exchange. I received nothing for it except a smile, a thank you, and feelings of friendship. When one gives audience, however, the qualities of the exchange are distinct: aural capacities in exchange for sound. Audience, on a very basic level, implicitly delineates an economic relationship between the one hearing and the one speaking. Value is exchanged in the form of hearing abilities and sound—and it depends on both the speaker and listener to actively participate, while the listener holds the upper hand.

The value of aural capacity was perhaps at a high when the Church of England's Arches Court—an ecclesiastical court—was originally called the Court of Audience. The participant giving audience in this court held disproportionately greater power and control in the transaction than the speaker. Members of the Church come to court so they can be heard by the Dean of Arches. Even in our civil and criminal courts, judges “hear” cases, yet maintain control and power over the encounter. To look at this, again, as an economic exchange, audience holds a far higher value than that of speaking. Another example of this uneven power relationship is the psychotherapist and his patient. Here, the value of audience is valued so far above the value of speaking that the gap must be made up through a cash exchange.

The value of the aural commodity—audience—however, has competed with a slightly later definition over the years. Within this competition, ever-changing power relations are at play; the exchange between speaker and listener shifts its balance from one participant in the exchange to the other. The competing meaning that has become the counter-weight to audience in this continual modulation of power arrived around 1407, and meant, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, “The persons within hearing; an assembly of listeners, an auditory.” Quite different from the 1347 meaning: a decrease in the value of aural capacity. Instead of the listener “giving” his senses, he is passively “within hearing,” merely able to sense the speaker. The value of giving is greatly diminished under this usage. Here, it is the speaker that disproportionately controls the exchange, so much so that one's audience can be taken without consent—it becomes a non-excludable commodity provided one is physically able to hear a sound. In this relation, the one who was once “giving” audience is now “the” audience, the singular multiple—he is disenfranchised.

In the pre-internet era, the value of audience was tied to the number of participants in the exchange. In situations where audience has a high value, there are few hearers and many speakers (Court of Audience, psychotherapist). Scarcity is the determinant for control and power, just as it is when there are few speakers and many providing aural capacity (the loud concert in the park across the street from me, an ice cream truck). In both cases we see an imbalance between the raw number of participants on either end—few to many.

It's clear then, that the terms audience and the audience are quite different. Words with the suffix -ence denote the raw ability to perform an action; for example sapience (derived from the Latin verb meaning “to know”) implies “knowingness,” the pure ability to retain knowledge—therefore we could read audience as “hearingness.” Hearingness is a commodity; it has value; it is a part of an inherent exchange. The audience differs in modern usage by referring to the mass of disenfranchised participants where one's audience has a very low value.

Audience and the audience: same root, essentially the same word, opposite implications when speaking of interaction.

January 02, 2007

Narcissism, Reality, and Multitude

I recently read Philip Dawdy's entry "Love American Style: Web 2.0 And Narcissism" over at his blog Furious Seasons. I suppose that many of my differences with his thoughts on the issue stem from our different theoretical backgrounds, but I did have a few.

To begin, I strongly agree with him that much of what we've grown accustomed to calling Web 2.0 is fueled by a particular narcissism. Another term that I've used in the past for this is spectacle - of ourselves for the viewing of others - in something of a modification of the implicit power relations described by Laura Mulvey in relation to cinema in "Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema" (excerpt). We make ourselves, knowingly and unknowingly through our web-based, inherently archival interactions. Yet in these Web 2.0 media (I'll use social networks as the central example here) the process of interaction has become a process of developing explicit representations of identity - and in most circumstances, many. This could definitely be described as a narcissistic act on some level. It requires hard thought how one wants to be perceived and delicate negotiations of complex social relations.

Yet I diverge from Dawdy somewhere around this sentence:

"This state of affairs cannot be especially healthy for our souls, our psychology and, hell, our brains because none of it is real."
He presumes that we, as a networked society, are becoming increasingly isolated from "real" interaction and that the end result of this narcissistic endeavor is ultimately meaningless. First of all, to claim that interaction, as expressed through a constructed identity (which, it's important to note, is not a closed process and involves the participation of others if only though comments and imitation) is less "real" than a conversation on the street is to place flesh-and-blood in the position of determining reality. To extend that, clothing itself impedes reality - nude conversations being the fullest exposure of this key to reality. While this is supported in metaphor ("Tom Cruise bares it all in this revealing interview"), we have to recognize that any interaction takes place through the specific cultural, social, political, etc, contexts in which it is happening. When good friends meet on the street unexpectedly, the identities through which they interact is quite different than those they would use for a stranger in a coffee shop. "Reality" is not a term that can be comfortably applied to identity. Teens may indeed be more comfortable and "themselves" over IM than in person. So we cannot fault these new media for watering down human interaction.

Secondly, while I agree that participation in these media often require a hefty dose of narcissism, this does not mean that this leads to socially detrimental ends. There are two sides to the narcissistic equation, which is why I prefer spectacle: the seen and the one seeing. No self-respecting narcissist would use a social-network that didn't let users see his profile. And instead of seeing a class of seen and another of those seeing, every participant plays both roles. They see and are seen. We enact both ends of spectacle - though not always simultaneously. And it is in these roles that we primarily interact through these media. It may be very light-weight interaction to merely view a profile, but that is what makes it worth it for anyone to participate in the first place.

Now we can start to imagine all these singular interactions adding up to a multiple whole, in an essentially emergent process. Millions of otherwise insignificant local interactions add up to a greater, global effect. On very concrete terms we see this expressed through collaborative filtering, but more importantly it allows for the creation of a multiple, networked subjectivity. The singularities continue to exist and interact, yet at the same time contribute to and shape this global effect, very close to what Hardt and Negri term the Multitude. This is a biopolitical conception that is exciting in its potentiality. What Dawdy may see as insignificant interactions and a frivolous use of time, turns out to be - on the scale of the multiple - of quite some interest indeed.

Dawdy writes largely on psychopharmacological topics, where as I was eager to drop that reference to the Multitude in the last paragraph (even if it meant doing so awkwardly). We're approaching this topic from different perspectives. We did have one further point of agreement though in his entry. This came when he recounted an argument at a bar with a cocky Google employee over how his company was helping content creators or merely greedily grabbing at cash:

"I asked him how much he made. He declined to tell me. At that point, a Web 2.0 creature would crumple and link to some report on the Net—which they have no way of knowing the validity of—purporting to show how much one of these algorithm assholes actually makes. Within five minutes, I had cracked the genius and he 'fessed up that he made $210,000 a year. At the time, I made one-fifth of that. ... I told him that he either needed to buy me a shot of Remy (he could afford to upgrade my Maker's Mark) or he could get the hell away from my table. He didn't come back."
As someone who is in a pay-grade probably even lower than Dawdy's and still working in the web business like the cocky Googler, I too would like a whisky - neat.

December 19, 2006

Real, Virtual, and Multiple

Michel's post over at P2P Foundation today pointed me to Kenneth Rufo's critique of a binary view of social interaction in digital media environments: "...the assumption is that the virtual connections of the digital world either replace or compliment the connections in the real world. ... Neither is correct; the virtual is a supplement in the Derridean sense, in that it takes the form of an addition, but ends up reconfiguring the original to which it has been added." Even more intriguingly he promises further analysis in a future post, questioning the real/virtual binary from the perspectives of Baudrillard, Deleuze, and Derrida. Needless to say, I'm quite interested to read this.

I would like to throw one more view into the mix here, one that does not rely on a real/virtual distinction. It's important to move away from this binary as it becomes clear that the boundaries between digital and physical selves are becoming quite thin and porous. An good way to view digital interaction and socialization is through the lens provided by Hardt and Negri in Empire and Multitude - as a form of immaterial labor. While Hardt and Negri write about immaterial labor in a much more expansive applic