Neuromancer: nature meets machine

In his book, Neuromancer, William Gibson repeatedly melds nature with technology, often in startling ways. He sets this standard even in the first line of his novel, where he describes that "[t]he sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel." This unexpected comparison reveals that Gibson does not only depict nature in terms of technology – a television-colored sky – but also defines technology using the natural world – a dead or lifeless (rather than broken) channel. The imagery continues as we meet some of the first characters in Neuromancer. Ratz, for instance, smiles as he tends a seedy bar exposing a "webwork of East European steel and brown decay" as teeth (3). He scratches his stomach with a "pink claw," or prosthetic arm (4). Case, the protagonist, retells his first encounter with Linda Lee, a love interest. He watches her play a video game, "her face bathed in  restless laser light, features reduced to a code" (8). Gibson highlights Linda's allure with artificial illumination and relates it to digital coding, rather than employing traditional notions of beauty resembling or deriving from nature.

Gibson pushes boundaries of imagination when describing Case's world. Many people lead destructive lifestyles of drugs and alcoholism, knowing they can easily replace organs, change their blood, and make other enhancements. While walking the streets of Ninsei, Case looks into a typical surgical "boutique;" given this term usually describes small shops selling trendy clothing, gadgets, or accessories, clearly body modification is a routine procedure in this context. Case stares at a "flat lozenge of vatgrown flesh... tattooed with a luminous digital display wired to subcutaneous chip," and wonders "[w]hy bother with the surgery... when you could just carry the thing around in your pocket?" (14) He seems less confused about an LCD screen embedded in flesh than the waste of time it takes to get the screen sown into your skin. Later, Case meets Molly who has mirrored lenses embedded into her face, a time read out added to her optic nerve, and artificial burgundy nails with four-centimeter scalpel blades in each finger. Gibson gives many more examples of nearly un-human individuals.

I suppose I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to altering the human body – only do it if there is no other option – but I wonder how others feel about getting physical upgrades. I joke about my cellphone equating to a vital organ, but could you ever picture yourself with electronics literally attached to you? It's fascinating to see the picture of technological ubiquity that Gibson paints for us, but I don't think that lifestyle will ever be a normal thing. The only current procedures that come close  – corrective eye surgery, replacement joints, artificial hearts, etc. – try to replace or correct a normal function, not add new features and abilities. I wouldn't mind seeing in the dark like Molly does, but would we be messing with nature too much with such dramatic changes?

Social network sites: was this the plan?

In their article, Boyd and Ellison discuss the emergence and development of social network sites (SNSs). They begin by noting that while these web entities mainly "support the maintenance of pre-existing social networks," others take shared interests into account and "help strangers connect." They claim that audiences vary in degree of diversity, where "[s]ome sites cater to diverse audiences, while attract people based on common... identities." Boyd & Ellison wisely mention that the incorporation of new information and communication tools, like "mobile connctivity, blogging, and photo/video-sharing," differs between SNSs as well.

The authors outline criteria for defining a social network site: "web-based services that allow individuals to (1) construct a public or semi-public profile within a bounded system, (2) articulate a list of other users with whom they share a connection, and (3) view and traverse their list of connections and those made by others within the system." They justify their use of the term "network" over "networking" in discussing these sites, explaining that while "networking" suggests new relationships between strangers, social "network" sites let users define and present their existing social networks. Though interaction can occur that would not otherwise, usually links happen between "latent ties" so that users mostly get in touch with people already in their extended offline network.

Boyd and Ellison continue by describing the variation between social network sites. They mention how profile visibility differs site to site, but all SNSs record the user's relationship with others in the system (e.g. "Friends," "Contacts," and "Fans). They note that labels can be misleading,  "Friends" in particular, because relationship confirmation is not always bi-directional. "Public display of connections" is a pivotal feature of SNSs, according to Boyd and Ellison, where the visibility of relationship display changes depending on the site. Although messaging – whether through comments or private messages resembling e-mail – is a fairly widespread feature of SNSs, they recount how some sites began with other purposes as forums, blogs, instant messaging services, community sites, and directories to name a few.

Some of the uses of social network sites that Boyd and Ellison delve into are impression management, self-presentation, and friendship performance. For instance, Boyd analyzed Friendster as a hub of openly articulated social networks that let users manage their self-presentation and connect with others, and went on to suggest that this was a crucial tool for people to navigate the global social network and validate identity information in profiles. Boyd also argued that profiles could never be "real," given the varying expectation of authenticity across sites. The authors give examples supporting the idea that, oftentimes, impression management is the motivation behind choosing particular "friends."

I find this fascinating. I was in middle school when I started a Xanga, in high school when I signed up for Facebook, and in college when I made a blog and joined other SNSs. I suppose my somewhat innocent reasons for initially entering the global social network of the web in 7th grade haven't worn off. I used, and still use, social network services mostly for the reasons Boyd and Ellison first described: to communicate with and maintain my pre-existing extended offline network. Are all of my 226 Facebook friends people I consider my buddies? By no means, but that number is still fairly low compared to a lot of  Facebook users. I try to be as honest as I can when it comes to who my "friends" are. I'm one of those weird folks who ignores friend requests from random people and deletes old high school classmates that aren't true friends. I think the inherent publicity of "public displays of connection" makes us feel a little guilty to turn anything down on the Internet, because our actions are indirectly announced. No one knows that I ignored Bianca Talle's friend request except for Bianca, and that awkward situation wouldn't normally happen in real life. I can't help but wonder, did creators of social network sites see this coming? Did they anticipate this happening and just shrug their shoulders? Is it even necessarily wrong to have an unrealistic SNS profile? I'm going to keep being as honest as I can, but maybe I should engage in some impression management myself.

Community in a globally networked world

In his essay, "Evil Bert Ladin: ViRaL Texts, Community, and Collision," James Brown recounts the complex situation where a Bangladeshi poster protesting American bombings appeared on U.S. news stations showing a picture of Sesame Street's Bert with Osama Bin Laden. A company in Bangladesh hurriedley Google searched for a photograph and included the prank picture on the sign. Individuals from all over made interpretations of the image to surmise its intention, with some even suggesting it as "some form of steganography to send a message to Al Quaida [sic] cells." Despite people's ideas, Brown clarifies that the Bert Laden image created by Dennis Pozniak – inspired by Dino Ignacio's humorous website titled "Bert is Evil" – was a mere joke. He urges that, rather than attempting to decode the image, "we should consider what is behind the interpretive impulse" because "many argue that our interpretive practices will have to change" to cope with ViRaL texts in a globally networked world. In addition, Brown hints that some things are pushed aside or forgotten in the pursuit of the hermeneutic instinct.

Brown defines ViRaL texts, which place "different cultures and different realities" in touch with each other. These texts create what Professor Davis calls a "depropriative address." An address, or message, that overwhelms our ability to make sense of things causes trauma. The address contaminates our existing notions – like the association of a childhood icon with a globally infamous terrorist leader – exposing our proximity and vulnerability to everyone else in the world. Brown elucidates that when Westerners saw Bert with bin Laden, a metonym they identified with the West alongside a metonym for the Islamic fundamentalist enemy, they realized  the division between "us" and "them" is not a clear-cut line. The depropriating experience demonstrated to Westerners that their community is created through relation rather than appropriation or assimilation and is no longer based on interpretation. To handle the trauma of seeing bin Laden in the same community as themselves, readers resorted to the hermeneutic impulse.

Brown tries to extract the learning potential of the Bert Laden incident, rather than trying to interpreting it. He equates trauma with learning, where a "shattering of 'self' and 'world,' not an appropriation but an experience of depropriation and alteration" occurs. This sheds a new light on the fact that Bert and bin Laden can "collide and collude" via the Internet. Collaboration can occur among groups who never planned to cooperate. Brown identifies this "learning moment" as something that gets lost when we scramble to heal our trauma through interpretation. He points out how the very fact that Bert and bin Laden shared a poster represents a chance for peace over conflict. Brown proposes that "if we expand our definition of community" beyond one of contributing volunteers with consistent goals, we might be able to better devise a pathway to peace.

I could not help but find Brown's essay overly optimistic. He comments that words of symbolic exchange "may be hateful, dismissive, crude, disgusting," but we can "view all discourse as an opening." I'm not sure that this is true. To me, discourse that begins divisively only leads to more disagreement and polarization. I see the silver lining of the Bert Laden photo, where it at least embodies an opportunity for cross dialogue and more peaceful discourse. Nonetheless, the climate of communication will not change unless all parties involved recognize this opportunity together. The initial response to the Bert Laden image shows that people are pretty entrenched in their ways. I understand Brown's hope for peace, but I wouldn't cross my fingers just yet.

S/R 1: Convergence Culture by Henry Jenkins *revised*

In his book, Convergence Culture: Where Old And New Media Collide, Henry Jenkins details how technological changes have catalyzed a new cultural mindset in society, where relationships between content consumers and producers are complex and constantly shifting. Jenkins does not strive to outline a formula for how convergence culture operates, but instead takes a descriptive approach by pointing to case studies that reveal the evolving nature and changing roles of communication today. He defines a modern knowledge framework, which he calls collective intelligence, where “the sum total of information held individually by members of a group [can] be accessed in response to a specific question” and it is impossible for one person to master all of the information (27). Jenkins shows that greater accessibility to information coupled with new communication structures has impacted how companies approach marketing their products. Corporations focus on building an emotional investment between their brands and their customers using affective economics, Jenkins notes, a contemporary marketing theory “which seeks to understand the emotional underpinnings of consumer decision-making as a driving force behind viewing and purchasing decisions" (62). Jenkins suggests that the methods for fostering a relationship with consumers can represent a double-edged sword: heightened consumer awareness runs hand-in-hand with heighted consumer scrutiny. Furthermore, he presents how the emotional potential of franchises is a major component of transmedia stories. Jenkins explains that these narratives are so large they span across different media, with each project offering a “distinctive and valuable contribution to the whole” (97). He reveals through an analysis of The Matrix that storytelling has become the art of world-building, where fans must devote more time but receive a deeper, more meaningful experience in return. Jenkins examines other unprecedented connections between the work of media moguls and followers. He highlights the capability of fan fiction in the cyberworld, such as works surrounding Harry Potter, to attract writers of all ages and backgrounds, allowing for literary exploration to flourish. Jenkins’s discussion of fan fiction demonstrates that the collaborative intellectual growth in these zealous communities can afford analytical skills to participants beyond those gained from formal education. According to Jenkins, such affinity spaces can spur learning and discussion about serious issues as well. He appears optimistic that fan communities, which generate and circulate new ideas, offer access to new social structures, and exhibit new models of cultural production, can be viewed as models for democratic citizenship and collaboration.

Jenkins has helped change my mind regarding the democratic potential of new media. Initially, I was a complete skeptic towards the ability of media in convergence culture to promote political involvement. Despite a generation consisting of digital natives – what Jenkins describes as young people who have grown up with participatory media technology – it seems as if dialogue is growing more polarized and youth are remaining disengaged from political discussions. As Jenkins says himself, “online parody often embraces racist, sexist, and xenophobic humor” (291). Considering there is a tendency for individuals to seek out like-minded users on the Web, I feel like there is an unfortunate amount of potential for resources like YouTube to promote biased attitudes and bigotry more than democracy. As a part of this cultural group, I realize that our digital literacy equips us as capable agents for connecting with others, raising awareness for issues, and eliciting change. Nonetheless, even if convergence culture makes it easier for youth to exercise civic engagement, I was pessimistic about the willingness of voting-age Internet users such as myself to incorporate political discourse into their routines. There are forces motivated to fight the inertia of voters, however, like The Daily Show or Colbert Report, by rendering conversations or commentaries on politics as “serious fun” (284). Though a practical injection of politics into everyday life, these “barely political” avenues of civic dialogue have yet to make a statistically significant impact on voting. I think this realm of convergence culture has yet to mature and, although many individuals maintain a chasm between their media activities and political involvement, this situation is on the brink of change. By teaching children from an early age to adopt a “serious fun” attitude towards new media and offering youth opportunities to experiment with this type of dialogue, individuals can change the culture surrounding politics. School assignments involving participatory technologies – blogs, fan fiction sites, YouTube and other social networks – can inspire students to take a playful, creative approach towards integrating democratic participation into their habits. In a few words, I have come to agree with Jenkins’ view that, with proper education of media literacy, society can use the benefits of convergence culture to promote civic duties as a part of everyday life.

Political activism in Convergence Culture

In this reading of Convergence Culture, Jenkins recaps the conclusions of his case studies and underscores the major issues facing convergence culture as time moves forward. He summarizes the meaning of this culture, "a paradigm shift–a move from medium-specific content toward content that flows across multiple media channels, toward the increased interdependence of communications systems, toward multiple ways of accessing media content, and toward ever more complex relations between top-down corporate media and bottom-up participatory culture" (254). According to Jenkins, economic motivations are the primary driving force behind this transition, not attempts to empower consumers. Nonetheless, consumers and the public as a whole do, in fact, have potential for greater clout but, as Jenkins asks, "the question is whether [they are] ready to push for greater participation or willing to settle for the same old relations to mass media" (254). 

Primed and ready, "digital natives" who have grown up with habitual access to participatory media technologies possess the prerequisite literacy skills to have their voices heard. Constant interaction with media coupled with highly personalized services has made these media-actives thoroughly involved in their media choices. Jenkins describes YouTube as one outlet of expression for this age, a shared platform for individual and collective expression where diverse groups collide and collaborate learning from each other's practices (258). YouTube naturally lends itself to promoting "serious fun," entertainment that involves political issues,  because of its ubiquity and enormous, encompassing audience (284). Content like parody videos of politicians can go far and wide on YouTube, reaching the eyes and ears of a crowd that would never gather together in reality. Jenkins outlines the role of Internet parodies as "springboards for larger conversations," with some videos walking the line between amusement and activism. He discusses news comedy shows, including The Daily Show and Colbert Report, that foster a kind of civic literacy. Jenkins is not overly optimistic, however, and touches on the disadvantages of democracy in digital media. While some engage in dialogue to round out their viewpoints, others exploit the spreadability of digital media to amplify messages of partisanship, inequality, and prejudice. Jenkins' final nugget of wisdom is that democracy is not an inevitable outcome of technological change, as pundits like to believe with every major innovation, but something "we need to fight to achieve with every tool at our disposal" (294).

I am a poor role model when it comes to civic engagement.  I get a couple newsletters from advocacy groups and I will occasionally sign a petition (via the Internet) for certain issues. I've even donated to causes a couple of times (kudos to PayPal). To be frank, though, it would probably be more accurate to say that I can't be any less political. I feel guilty, because I know that our digital literacy equips us as capable agents for connecting with others, raising awareness for issues, and eliciting change. I think this realm of convergence culture has not matured yet: a lot of people still do not view their media activities as vehicles for political involvement. As we discussed in class, the overload of information out there can frustrate us to the point of surrender; I can't help but take a break from the daily tsunami of data heading my way. This is where programs like The Daily Show, Jenkins describes, prove to be practical: Jon Stewart's satire keeps me laughing, forces me to think beyond just believing what I see, and gets me genuinely interested in learning more about current events. But, I'm still not politically involved. How can we stay afloat of the information onslaught, satisfy our love of entertainment and fulfill our civic responsibility to have a voice in our democracy?

I am not trying to downplay the power of new media to spread a message. I came across the story of Zach Weiner, a cartoonist, and his mix up with the National Organization for Marriage. I've copied parts of his post, but here is a link to view it in its entirety. I think this is a perfect demonstration of how the fluid nature of digital information can result in cross-dialogue between different groups. Jenkins would probably approve of Zach's statement that "this generation fights in a new way, but we fight just as hard."

N.O.M. N.O.M. N.O.M.

Around 9 this morning I got messaged by a few twitter followers that a group called National Organization for Marriage (NOM) had posted a comic of mine. This was the comic, which was in no way conceived of or related to gay rights issues. NOM is a group whose major function is lobbying against gay marriage. They were made notorious for this video.

I messaged my brother/webguru Marty Weiner, who sprung into action. He worked on figuring out how to change the image without affecting the SMBC main page while I worked on finding an image. I settled on a rainbow flag and a quote. At first, I considered using a Harvey Milk quote, but I decided to go with someone I could only assume NOM favors: Mr. Thomas Jefferson.

Pretty cool, eh?

And, since I’m already on my soap box, I want to add: There seems to be this idea out there that action through the Internet has no important effect. Even people I really respect, like Jon Stewart, promote this idea. Well, today, I probably got a message of equality to over 100,000 people, among them members of the other side. This generation fights in a new way, but we fight just as hard.