Relationships generate feelings. In my experience, raw emotional material is best processed in one of two ways:
It can be fed back into the relationships that produced it, in ways that strengthen the foundations of those relationships. (Bricks.)
Or it can be directed outward in the form of creative work. (Paint.)
For most of my life, I’ve primarily been a bricklayer…but I’m considering a career change.
Watch this space.
I love the Internet. I think it’s probably worth all the sacrifices humanity will make to have it, which are many. But one of those sacrifices is that the Internet feels like a straw sucking time from my life. I slip into the disembodied flow of information and images and it’s like hitting pause on the felt sense of time passing. I forget to sleep, I forget to eat, I forget that I need to be touched, and my body carries on moving through time without me.
I made a New Year’s resolution to spend more time with physical books. I had a hunch this return to reading on paper would solve all my problems. Of course, it can’t. But having finished the first two, M.T. Anderson’s Feed and Ruth Ozeki’s A Tale for the Time Being, I’m starting to have a sense that it might help address the environment from which my most of my problems emerge: the lack of time.
I worry constantly about death — my own death, my loved ones’ deaths, the deaths of strangers, of abstracted populations, historical figures, hypothetical future generations, and even the occasional pop star. The prospect of literally dying isn’t too scary; even the most painful, startling, and horrific methods are still over pretty soon. And I’m not the kind of person who wants my head chopped off and frozen so that my eventually digitized consciousness can be uploaded into a hivemind that will colonize deep space. I like the idea of someday being gone. Historicity is a good aesthetic. But it matters when. Death means no more time.
I don’t want all the time, but I want more time than I think I have, and certainly more time than it feels like I have when I look up from six hours of accidentally surfing Facebook. I want enough time to do the things that matter. I want to feel like I lived a whole life. Like I saw things change so much that I’m ready to let them continue on without me now. I want experiential richness and maybe, eventually, to be good at something.
Books are time bubbles. Physical books especially, maybe because they have a shape; contents that are clearly bounded, separate from the ubiquitous, inchoate flow of information through my cyborg daily world; edges so sharp they literally cut you if you touch them wrong. Opening a book is like taking the crinkly, bright wrapper off of a piece of candy. You pop it in your mouth and suddenly you get six weeks, or three whole years, or the rise and fall of a dynasty, or two peoples’ entire lives intertwined with each other. You get more time.
When I spend two hours on the Internet, I come back blinking and feel like time has carried on without me. Maybe I acquired some shiny infobits or tied more deeply into a meaningful human relationship, but my life feels shorter than it did when I went in. When I spend two hours on the couch with a novel, I put it down to sense that I’m still here, right where time left me; that I took an incredible trip into a different worldstream and maybe lived whole other lives, but now I’m home and only a few moments have passed and I have all the time in the world to continue living my own story.
Reading more physical books won’t solve all my problems, but it might make me feel like I have enough time to solve them myself. So, what should I read next?
This morning, my friend Free linked an article on Twitter titled “The Mass Exodus of Polyamorous People Towards Relationship Anarchy.” Free is a very thoughtful non-monogamist but I was immediately skeptical. I’ve certainly seen a trend in polyamory, especially over the past eight years or so, away from hierarchical relationships and towards more intersectionality, inclusivity, and fluidity about what kinds of relationships matter. What I have not seen, however, is a noticeable community-wide shift towards an anarchic politic of intimacy — or any politic of intimacy, at all, really. Polyamorists, by and large, still seem pretty grounded in a progressive liberal ideal of “You do you, and I’ll do me, but the way I’m doing me doesn’t include dating anybody who has a One Penis Policy.” Sure, there’s always a little lunatic fringe within the poly community who see our relationships as a radical political commitment, but I haven’t seen any evidence of a “mass exodus” towards that position.
But I went ahead and read the article, because maybe things are different in Sweden. The author describes — here and in other posts such as “Relationship Anarchy is not Polyamory” — some core tenets of relationship anarchy well. For example, that sex is not the only valid form of intimate connection, and that people ought to be free to configure each of their relationships on a case-by-case basis. But her main point with this piece seems to be that “many previously self-defined ‘polyamorous’ folk like me, are adopting the term ‘relationship anarchist’ instead” because the media has tainted the term “polyamory” with objectification, slut-shaming, drama, and a salacious hyperfocus on sexuality that doesn’t jive with most peoples’ actual relationship experiences.
And I actually believe she’s right about that. I have seen a lot of people in polyamorous communities describing themselves as “relationship anarchists” lately because they don’t like what “polyamory” implies. I get that. We need evolving language and, hell, “relationship anarchy” sounds cool. But I think it’s step in the wrong direction for most polyamorous folks — basically, because “relationship anarchy” already means something, and I don’t think it’s what they think it means.
So, of course, I wrote my friend an epic Twitter essay explaining why:
Okay, so…I’ve seen this in a couple of places now, and here’s my concern with it: I grok the need for language besides “poly” to describe multi-partner relationships. “Poly” describes a very specific style of negotiated non-monogamy, has a lot of cultural baggage, and isn’t for everybody. That said, Relationship Anarchy isn’t a catch-all. It also describes a specific philosophy of intimacy.
An important aspect of that philosophy — one I that think poly or “post-poly” folks tend to find discomfiting or simply ignore — is that Relationship Anarchy rejects all arguments for policing the behavior of one’s intimate partners. ALL of them. What this means in practice is not only No “Agreements” in our own relationships, but also no participation in policing the rules/agreements/contracts of other peoples’ relationships. In other words, Relationship Anarchists are not necessarily anti-cheating.
In fact, in one of the earliest essays on Relationship Anarchy, the author explicitly describes “stealing kisses” from monogamous people in front of their jealous lovers’ “terrified eyes” as a form of direct action. This was very hard for me to swallow as a baby Relationship Anarchist, because as a poly person I’d centered so much of my identity and public persona around an image of myself as being a Safe Person ™, devoted to open communication and respect for all relationship agreements. And, in general, the poly community has done a shit ton of work to convince ourselves and monogamists that we aren’t a threat. That just ’cause I love differently doesn’t mean I’m going to steal your partner.
But as a Relationship Anarchist, I very well might steal your partner, because I believe the idea partners can be “stolen” is not only nonsense, but oppressive nonsense. Which is not to say that I make a point of going around trying to seduce people out of their relationship contracts. Much like, as a political anarchist, I don’t go around blowing up mailboxes or destroying government property for hell of it. But that’s not because I think there’s something wrong with doing so. (I have an anarchist friend who made it his mission throughout college to go around town with giant bolt cutters, snapping the heads off of parking meters, and I think that’s awesome and hilarious.)
I don’t usually encourage people to cheat, but that’s because it’s not a priority for me in terms of relationship activism, and because I do have enough experience being “cheated with” that I know the consequences in terms of drama and social disintegration are not usually worth it to me, personally. But that’s other peoples’ preferred tactic and I think that’s legit.
Point is: Relationship Anarchy isn’t just “non-hierarchical polyamory.” It’s not even “customize your own relationships outside the bounds of amatonormativity.” Relationship Anarchy is a politic and, as both politic and practice, it’s actively anti-monogamy, anti-marriage, and anti-contracts/rules/policing. In a certain way, Relationship Anarchy is exactly what the Poly Movement has spent the last couple of decades trying to convince people its NOT.
And for good reason, I think. Not everybody wants their relationships to be radical political acts, and they shouldn’t have to be. That’s part of what, as a relationship anarchist, I’m fighting for: to open up space for folks to love however they love, and not have to always be fighting tooth and nail to do so.
But ID’ing as a relationship anarchist is a very political act, and I don’t think we should be encouraging poly folks who are just looking for a less loaded way to say they’re poly to adopt the RA label. Because they might not really understand exactly what they’re signing up for and they might not be very happy with some actions they find other RAs undertaking in the Relationship Anarchist name.
I’ve written about this before, at some length, in hard-to-navigate Tumblr conversational format. Here’s a small excerpt illustrating some common ways polyamorous community has begun talking about “relationship anarchism” as opposed to what I understand it to mean:
I was actually at a poly meetup in a major city recently, and a newbie asked someone what the difference was between “Non-Hierarchical Polyamory” and “Relationship Anarchy.” A seasoned older poly dude answered that they were basically two different labels for the same thing: dating multiple people but not explicitly having “Primaries” or “Secondaries”. To which a cute young poly queer kid responded that, actually, non-hierarchical poly still tends involve differentiation between romantic/sexual and non-romantic/sexual relationships whereas relationship anarchy is more about defining each individual relationship on its own terms, and not necessarily lumping them into categories like “friends,” “lovers,” “life-partners,” etc.
Older poly dude was kind of nodding along indulgently to this, when I chimed in and added that “Relationship Anarchy” is actually a framework that was originally developed by anarchists, not by polyamorists, and that its primary focus is ultimately on not making relationship agreements e.g. on not laying down explicit rules and expectations for any of the interpersonal relationships in your life. At this, older poly dude started to look really uncomfortable, younger poly queer kid looked really excited, poly queer kid’s until-now quiet boyfriend squeaked, “Oh wow, that sounds really scary!” and poly queer kid turned to comfort him with, “Yeah…yeah, that really doesn’t sound like something I’d be ready for, um, yet.”
What I didn’t ultimately get into at this meeting (because I was a guest and I wasn’t really looking to start shit, just pique interest) is that relationship anarchy, in its original anarchic formulations, encourages us not only to jettison coercive mechanisms of control from our own relationships, but also to not be complicit in supporting coercive mechanisms of control in other relationships.
And some expansion on the reasons why polyamorous community, rightly qua survival mechanism, often avoids or rejects some of the more radical/anarchic avenues of non-monogamy:
I believe the suggestions here, the invocation not only to jettison rules from your own relationships but to encourage those who are in rule-bound relationships to “cheat” with you, will still be anathema to almost all poly people, even the most “radical” non-hierarchical types. I know they make me itchy; even though, politically, I see the wisdom in them, on a personal level it has always made me uncomfortable when someone wanted to (or did) cheat on their partner with me. It’s certainly not something I’ve gloried in — although I know many people (including some people who identify as monogamous) do.
And I think this actually goes back to the earliest thing I said about conflict avoidance and being apolitical. As a young poly person, especially as an attractive teen poly woman, I was plagued by the idea that being poly made me a “slut” and a “homewrecker” who “didn’t care about peoples’ feelings” and that my female friends couldn’t trust their boyfriends around me because I “didn’t respect monogamy.” In response, I overcompensated by becoming extremely harsh on anybody who ever cheated for any reason, making it clear that being poly didn’t make me a cheater, that it made me more honest not less, and that I was “safe” for my monogamous friends to be around because I respected their relationship agreements even MORE as a result of being polyamorous. My fixation on supporting monogamous peoples’ monogamy became a defense mechanism against the backlash I got for being polyamorous.
And I think this happens on a larger cultural scale, as well. The thing is — regardless of whether you’re an anarchist who’s actively rejecting monogamy for political reasons or you’re somebody who’s just having relationships and doesn’t give a shit about being monogamous so you’re not prioritizing it, whatever — the sheer existence of functional, happy, satisfying, non-monogamous intimacy is threatening to monogamous culture, which claims that happy, satisfying, functional intimacy is only available within monogamy.
As a non-monogamous person of any stripe, your existence is always and already a threat. And so poly communities (who ha-aate conflict) are very much about trying to do and talk about non-monogamy in ways that are comparatively non-threatening to monogamists. […A] lot of poly relationship rhetoric is geared toward making monogamous people feel safe, and toward mitigating the kind of (sometimes literally murderous) backlash that comes from monogamous people against anyone who makes them feel insecure in their ownership of their partners.
Ultimately, I don’t see anything major in the post-poly strains coming out of the polyamorous community that strikes me as significantly more anarchic — more actively directed towards the disruption (not just rejection) of institutional norms — than polyamory has ever been. Relationship anarchy has been around for a long, long time, so I don’t think it makes sense to categorize it as “post” anything. It is not just a different way of doing intimacy; it’s an integration of your relationship politics with your politics regarding the police, the government, and other oppressive systems. I do think that inclusive, fluid, open, intersectional, complex, loving community networks are lovely and I’m so excited to see more of them. They can exist, in part, because relationship anarchists of the past blew some shit up. (Conceptually and interpersonally, as it were.) But I don’t think they’re inherently political. Anarchism must be.
For folks who are interested, there’s a tiny seedling list of Entry Points into Relationship Anarchy that myself and some other Tumblristas composed a little while ago, and that I think does a better job of introducing RA concepts than many of the essays coming out of the post-polyamorous community today. You can find it here.
You don’t have to be a big bad hacker, cracking Evil Corp passwords or doxxing killer cops, to make an impact online. A few lines of code can go a long way toward social and political change.
Online activism is trivial. We’ve all heard it. “Clicktivism!” White people sitting at home in their jammies tweeting in to the Daily Show. A never-ending shower of spam from MoveOn.org. Who cares? But with Internet infrastructure becoming just as integral to our daily lives as roads or the phone system, it’s nonsense to claim that political action in the digital realm doesn’t matter. A more realistic perspective might be that, both online and off, most political activism winds up being pretty trivial.
But not all. Consider the SOPA/PIPA blackout of 2012, when over 115,000 websites “went dark” in a coordinated protest against draconian “anti-piracy” legislation. That action resulted in more than 10 million voters contacting their congress members and the proposed bills being shelved. The New York Times called it “a political coming of age for the tech industry.” The protest was clever, attention-grabbing, novel, and effective. And it only worked once. As with most instances of PR-campaign-as-political-action, most viewers get the message and then get bored quickly. Subsequent efforts to light a fire of democratic fervor under the “sleeping giant” of the Internet seemed to sputter.
Digital activism as a whole, however, still matters. I believe we’ve only begun to see its potential. And I’ve been thinking lately about the use of software development as a form of direct action. Direct action software development is only one of many ways to approach activism online, but it’s one that I haven’t yet seen articulated elsewhere. We hear about “hacktivism” when Anonymous makes videos threatening the police. Meanwhile, “civic coding” efforts such as Greenhouse aim to inform voters and facilitate the democratic process. And the Internet has, of course, been used as a fantastic megaphone for traditional forms of political organizing such as petitions, awareness raising, and getting out the vote. But we don’t hear much about software development, itself, as a “hacktivist” strategy. So, I’m going to talk about it.
What is direct action software development? In short, “direct action” refers to political activism that immediately targets the perceived source of a problem, rather than trying to resolve the problem through standard channels for negotiating with authorities. Similar to civil disobedience, direct action strategies subvert established political processes (e.g. voting, petition writing, running for office, filing a complaint) in favor of more efficient and often more dramatic means of making social change.
For example: Say your issue is de-segregating gendered bathrooms. Gender-segregated public restrooms are dangerous for transgender people. So, using the established democratic process, you might call your senator, write a petition, hire a lobbyist, or draft legislation about the issue. Ideally, your bill requiring gender-neutral public restroom facilities will eventually be brought to a vote, passed into law, and then hopefully enforced.
Civil disobedience around the same issue might involve staging a high-profile event where protestors gather at a busy public building and insist on using the “wrong” restroom/s until the police show up to arrest them. Meanwhile, one direct action tactic would be to run around the city pulling down “MALE” and “FEMALE” restroom signs and replacing them with “ALIENS” and “ROBOTS.”
Ultimately, all of these political tactics can be used together, although sometimes (if the people deploying them don’t coordinate well with each other) they can work at cross-purposes. Direct action tactics are often associated with a cartoonish image of anarchism, so the public may imagine “direct action” as nothing more than men in black masks smashing windows and kicking over trashcans — or, at best, sit-ins, strikes, occupations, blockades, and other ways of disrupting business as usual. Even in the online realm of “hacktivism,” digital direct action is typically associated with breaking and leaking stuff: DDoS attacks on the FBI website, doxxing the Steubenville rapists, Chelsea Manning’s release of classified documents to WikiLeaks. But the key feature of direct action is not destruction; it’s not asking permission from authority before making needed changes. Gender-segregated restrooms aren’t safe for trans folks? De-segregate them. Today. The “Designated Free Speech Zone” is so far away from the Evil Oil Billionaires Convention that nobody can hear you chant? Get closer. Fight the cops to get there if you have to. Your favorite social network censors rape survivors who name their rapists? Build a browser tool that lets users subvert administrative silencing.
The key feature of direct action is not destruction; it’s not asking permission from authority before making needed changes.
There are other forms of online action besides “hacktivism.” Blogging about political issues, signing digital petitions, meme-based awareness campaigns (e.g. changing your Facebook profile pic to support marriage equality or decry child abuse), these tactics are widespread and accessible to the general public. The average Internet user can work out how to tweet at their senator. But the most impactful online protest actions often require advanced technical skill alongside your commitment to a political or social cause.
In early 2014, Creative Commons founder and anti-censorship advocate Larry Lessig gave a talk imploring technologists to get involved in politics:
I get it. As technologists, it’s not your field. But as citizens? [T]here is a movement out there that has ENORMOUS needs which you, uniquely, can provide. The obvious ones, the technical needs. This is a movement that will only succeed if we find a way to knit together people in a different model from the television advertising model of politics today. […] This movement is STARVED for people with your skill who can figure out how to make this work. It desperately needs this type of skill offered by people who genuinely believe in the cause as opposed to people who are just trying to get rich.
He’s not the only one who thinks so. Over the past several years, there has been an explosion of “civic hacking” efforts such as Code for America, data-driven government transparency initiatives, hackathons like CreateAthon and the Coder Day of Service to help non-profit organizations, etc. These projects are different from Anonymous-style “hacktivism” in that their goal is to build, not break. They are largely geared toward technologically supporting the democratic process. However, they are plagued by many of the same issues as other policy-oriented activism: they are slow; they are overwrought with funding issues and procedural hangups; they are typically dependent on approval, information, or resources from some governmental or corporate authority; and access to such necessities is often unreliable because, to be blunt, governments and corporations rarely have their constituents’ best interests at heart. As a friend of mine says, “civic hacking is basically a way for the government to get a bunch of free tech labor.”
This is where direct action software development comes in. Unlike other hacktivism, the point of direct action development is not strategic destruction; it is to build, develop, create, and “design for good.” It differs from civic hacking, however, by building for good without waiting for permission. Direct action developers design software, websites, and other tools with the intent to make immediate political and social change. These technologies are “disruptive” in the most literal sense of the word. Much like physical-world actions which violate unjust ordinances, trigger conflict with authorities, and inconvenience passersby, direct action technologies often ignore online standards of etiquette, upset site administrators, and even violate the CFAA or other laws. Both online and off, the key to direct action is refusing to cooperate with any authorities who obstruct change. (If you are contemplating potentially-illegal online activism of any form, I encourage you to make a safety plan. That discussion is out of scope for this post, but consider contacting a tech-knowledgeable lawyer or the EFF for more information.)
Here are some concrete examples of software development as direct action:
WHAT DOES IT DO: WikiLeaks is an international, non-profit, journalistic organization that publishes secret information, news leaks, and classified media from anonymous sources. Some of its best known publications include 250,000+ classified diplomatic cables sent to the U.S. State Department, and the “Collateral Murder” video and other incriminating materials leaked by Chelsea Manning.
WHAT PROBLEMS DOES IT ADDRESS: Lack of government, military, and corporate accountability worldwide. Prosecution and persecution of whistleblowers and journalists who report on high-level corruption.
HOW POLICY MIGHT DO IT: International initiatives requiring increased transparency, open data, and opportunities for public participation in governments and corporate entities such as banks. Stronger legislation to support whistleblowers and investigative journalism.
HOW CODE DOES IT: Okay, so technically WikiLeaks itself isn’t software; it’s a website and an organization. Founder Julian Assange describes himself as an “information activist.” But the project does require a significant technical backbone in order to stay live on a distributed network of servers despite constant hostilities, and to provide a secure, anonymous, online drop box that allows sources to leak information to the site in relative safety.
WHO LOVES IT: Journalists. Activists. People who use the Internet. Pretty much everyone.
WHO HATES IT: Big businesses. Big banks. Corrupt diplomats. Murderous military personnel. All governments everywhere.
PROJECT: TextSecure, Signal, and RedPhone
WHAT DOES IT DO: These user-friendly apps provide end-to-end encryption for iOS and Android communications. Made by Open Whisper Systems, an open source non-profit software development group with a mission to “make private communication simple,” these apps are free and allow smartphone users to communicate securely via text or voice with any other user of the app.
WHAT PROBLEMS DOES IT ADDRESS: Government surveillance and mass data collection. (Also helps protect against subpoena of your text messages.)
HOW POLICY MIGHT DO IT: Stronger data privacy protections in the law, and the ability and willingness of government agencies to enforce them. (Remember that the NSA knew their spying programs were illegal and did it anyway.)
HOW CODE DOES IT: The apps use public-key encryption, the strongest and most reliable encryption protocol currently known, to ensure that texts are unreadable to anybody but the intended recipient and that voice calls cannot be listened in on by outside parties. Most importantly, the encryption is built into the apps in a way that make secure communications accessible to relatively non-technical users.
WHO LOVES IT: Private citizens who want to remain private. Political organizers and dissidents working under oppressive regimes. Information Security professionals. Math nerds. Your drug dealer. Edward Snowden.
WHO HATES IT: David Cameron. The NSA. The FBI.
WHAT DOES IT DO: The Peacekeeper App facilitates community-based emergency response. It allows users to quickly send and receive detailed emergency alerts among everyone in a geographically local network. The ultimate goal of the project is to develop networks of trained and trusted community responders for a range of emergencies including fires, break-ins, medical emergencies, and interpersonal violence — ultimately serving as a replacement for dialing 911.
WHAT PROBLEMS DOES IT ADDRESS: Government emergency services (paramedics, fire departments, the police) are at best underfunded and inefficient and, especially in the case of the police, frequently discriminatory and even brutally violent in their responses to 911 calls.
HOW POLICY MIGHT DO IT: Dramatically increase funding for all established emergency services. Develop and mandate provably effective anti-discrimination training for all police officers and other emergency responders. Require local police forces to reflect the demographics of the communities they police. Improve legal protections for citizens who document police abuses.
HOW CODE DOES IT: Peacekeeper takes the connective power of a social networking app and focuses it on creating a real-world social network — specifically, one made up of people who the user knows and trusts to come to their aid in an emergency. The app provides communities who use it with an immediate alternative to calling the police. (After encouragement from other direct action software developers, the app is now free and open source.)
WHO LOVES IT: Anarchists. Libertarians. (Peacekeeper branding skews extremely Right Libertarian. They partner with “The Pulse O2DA Battle Academy” to offer combat training modules.) People who live in rural areas. Anybody who feels unsafe or uncomfortable dealing with the police.
WHO HATES IT: Criminals. Cops. (We also think it’s a great technology that desperately needs a political makeover.)
PROJECT: Predator Alert Tool
WHAT DOES IT DO: The Predator Alert Tools are a suite of browser add-ons focused on preventing sexual violence. They allow users of social network and dating sites to share information about site members who have committed rape or sexual abuse, and to be informed about people in their communities who are potential threats. Predator Alert Tools are currently available for seven social websites including OkCupid, Facebook, and the fetish dating site FetLife.
WHAT PROBLEMS DOES IT ADDRESS: Censorship by site administrators that prevents survivors of sexual violence from publicly naming their perpetrator. Community silencing and siloing of information about known sexual predators.
HOW CODE DOES IT: The Predator Alert Tools depends on a number of public repositories where data about consent violations can be shared anonymously. Depending on the site, the tools also provide a range of other mechanisms for sharing either anonymously, non-anonymously, publicly, or with a limited group of friends. Browser-side extensions then put that information at the “point of need” by e.g. placing a “red flag” on the reported user’s profile picture with a link to more information. Because these extensions run locally, site admins have no control over what the user reports or sees.
WHO LOVES IT: Survivor advocates. Feminist activists. Prison abolitionists. (Community-centered accountability processes are important alternatives to the prison-industrial complex.) Fifty-five thousand Tumblr users. Survivors of sexual violence, and their family members, friends, and loved ones.
WHO HATES IT: Rapists.
PROJECT: Falling Fruit
WHAT DOES IT DO: In their own words, “Falling Fruit is a massive, collaborative map of the urban harvest. By uniting the efforts of foragers, freegans, and foresters everywhere, the map already points to over a half million food sources around the world (from plants and fungi to water wells and dumpsters). Our rapidly growing user community is actively exploring, editing, and adding to the map.”
WHAT PROBLEMS DOES IT ADDRESS: Food insecurity. Corporate food waste.
HOW POLICY MIGHT DO IT: More funding to government benefits like food stamps. Improving any government or non-profit program intended to fight hunger. Legislation or corporate policies requiring restaurants and grocery stores to donate leftover food rather than trashing it. Major international shifts in the nature of agri-business and food distribution.
HOW CODE DOES IT: Distributes information about where free food and water are available near you right now. Certainly no substitute for major international shifts in the nature of agri-business and food distribution, but it’s a start.
WHO LOVES IT: People who like to eat food.
WHO HATES IT: Trader Joe’s.
These are just a handful of examples. Direct action software projects span a huge political and technical range, but tend to have a few qualities in common: The code is relatively lightweight. The project is primarily supported by donations and volunteer labor. It’s free to use and open source. And it serves parallel purposes of making a clear political statement while also providing a tangible, real world, immediate benefit to users right now, today. There are so many different, novel, clever, and powerful ways to write code that both makes a point and makes change. If you have other examples of direct action software, or ideas for direct action development projects, I’d love to hear about them! Please drop me a line: foxtale at riseup dot net.
On the rocky mossy shores of Antarctica, beyond the endless wisps of grass hovered over by faded red string that cut the landscape up into square meter boxes, the city of McMurdo still stands. It is a vast shantytown, starkly unassuming compared to the glittering carbon spires of St. Petersburg, but it is a clean shantytown. And in the EM spectrum, around the ten centimetre wavelength, the glittering wealth of humanity’s last hope runs in rivulets, through re-purposed trailers and TEUs, carrying the songs of a Noah’s Ark of rescued microchips. And before the eyes of every denizen streak a rainbow of overlays, the last frail library index. Kept alive by the scant beating hearts of a couple dozen thousand, the internet is cold with the chill of a thinning winter’s air.
The paint fades. The fusion reactor at the city’s center sputters out and the polymer baths strain to hold the charge another two days until it can be restarted. Data-death has come again, and we must decide what to triage. Our silent ward makes the choice no easier; its ecology remains verdant, supplying our best weapons against the Bloc and the acid and the Balleny Fault and and and. But it remains turned inward to worlds we cannot glimpse, almost as unknowable to us as we are to it. The most beautiful child, lost to us while we still cradle it in our hands, in troubled compassionate awe. And silently we vote on whether to kill it this month or lose more unknowable history to the blackout, to keep it alive for ethics’ sake or in hope that this decade something will emerge.
We vote to buy another lottery ticket with the petabytes of our ancestors lives and dreams. To duck the harshness in the air all around us. Papers flicker and expand outward in jeweled strings of what those ancestors would have called game theory, sociology, neuroscience, and philosophy of ethics–our own haggard juvenile cry against our inevitable near-consensus. We trade links, shuffling obligatory commentary around the conceptual processing networks, sliding dependencies into place like glittering emeralds. Ritual play to stretch muscles laterally before we return to fitting another brilliant seventeen-year-old’s work on silicates in the North American desert into appropriate reclamation theories. Decay and rust is scraped away into jars for electrolysis as yet more chips go dead. The meagre replacement rate is analysed from all angles. And then again.
Children play with kites made from filaments once hoped to replace rapidly crumbling solar panels. Kerguelen is under siege. We believe our launch site near the Tropic of Cancer, hidden in the patterns between rot storms only we can see, will be exposed if we mobilize. And so they die. The grass on our slopes goes white and sun-exposure is forbidden. Old women taste apricots for the first time. A spasm of further ecological collapse in South America sends nitrogen washing up into the Ross Delta marshlands. Three refugees; the first in two years. A spring revolution deauthenticates the spokescouncil and a massive collaborative social engineering is undertaken to clean up the burgeoning proliferation of exclusive darknets. Our ward moves suddenly, like the cracking of glaciers of old, and then is silent. A loner cadre of young lover-collaborators discover Russian advances through the remains of shale processing plants in Marie Byrd and die together fighting them off.
We must vote on whether to send a last stockpile of hydrogen to the launcher or supply the reactor, our capacity to process water finally traded away by the design optimism of a much earlier generation of McMurdo. We vote to send it to the launcher. Without Kerguelen we are forced to listen blind and near-mute as the automated lander’s ion engines — made in a clean room two centuries prior and sailed out of Florida on a badly patched fiberglass laser sailboat by our great great grandmothers — choke as it nears 3554 Amun. The pings of spectroscopy turned to the scratchy music of undying automated radio stations to avoid our enemies. The surface of the asteroid we meant to capture and mine is boiling. We have no idea why. We have eleven hours to decide before we must land Earth’s last mission.
This is a great post by Maymay, one of the developers of the Predator Alert Tool suite. Originally written 10.09.2013. [Crossposted from maybemaimed.com]
. . .
There is no good excuse for not building sexual violence prevention tools into every social network on the Internet.
Let me say that again, because this is important.
There is no good excuse for not building sexual violence prevention tools into every social network on the Internet.
The Internet industry is in a unique position to effect arguably the most sweeping resistance to systemic sexual violence in history. Moreover, it wouldn’t even be technologically complex, or expensive. And we’ve already proved it’s possible.
Getting information about sexual violence that occurs in your community is of utmost importance to keeping oneself safe and to stopping the cycle of abuse. According to the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN), up to 85% of sexual assaults are perpetrated by someone the survivor already knows. And according to a recent PEW Research study, 70% of American adults use Facebook.
I’m going to say that one more time, too, because I want to make sure it sinks in: most survivors of sexual violence are only one or two degrees away from their attacker, often for the rest of their lives. Ever try to avoid hearing a TV spoiler when all your friends are talking about the TV show? It’s hard to do, and it’s frustrating when you can’t get away from it. Imagine for a moment how painful it is for people for whom it’s not a “Game of Thrones” spoiler that appears on their screen, but the picture and words of the person who raped them.
Despite this commonplace experience, almost nobody talks about it. Discussions about this are rare. And that’s not an accident. Deafening silence around this topic is by design.
Just the other day, a student raped by another student at Emerson College was told by school administrators that she “shouldn’t be making a big deal with it.” Such stories are typical in schools, workplaces, governments, houses of worship, militaries (including the US military), and families across the world. This is and has long been the norm, not the exception.
Such silencing, which is part of isolating a survivor from support structures and preventing vitally important information about sexual violence from being shared, is also the norm online. Some online dating websites like FetLife.com go so far as to admit to actively censoring postings by survivors, despite being publicly shamed for the practice. And when some people do push back against this culture of abuse online, such as in the case of the inspirational “Predditors” project, it is often they, not the people who abused and bully them, who face violence and censorship anew.
One reason for this is because the infrastructures of commercial Internet social networking and dating websites are designed to maximize corporate profits at the expense of human decency. OkCupid, which has a treasure trove of highly personal information about its users, turns a blind eye to stories its users share about being assaulted and raped while on dates facilitated by the service. When their parent company, Match.com, was sued for facilitating just such an experience, they chose to pursue an obviously ineffective and privacy-degrading settlement. Instead, OkCupid could have empowered its users with information-sharing tools that do much more good with much less effort. But to do so, they’d have to admit they weren’t even doing literally the least they could do before.
In the United States alone, one in five women say they’ve been sexually assaulted. Internationally, one in three women say they’ve been physically abused by a boyfriend, husband, or partner, sexually or otherwise. At the risk of sounding like an alarmist, this rape epidemic is a gushing wound. The patient is bleeding out, and it seems nobody knows how to stop it.
Earlier, I said we’ve already proved building tools to help prevent sexual violence wouldn’t be technologically complex or expensive. The Predator Alert Tool for OkCupid is one such tool that helps fill the gaping, bleeding, festering rape culture wound left untended by the company. Its premise is simple: ask everyone on OkCupid whether they’ve committed rape. If they answer yes, warn anyone looking at their profile that this is so.
It sounds too simple to work, but it does. And according to study after study after study, simply asking people (and, technically, the studies are only about “men”) to describe their behavior indicates that an alarming 25% of them will admit to committing the crime. That’s one in four respondents who are admitted rapists or attempted rapists.
If the person whose dating profile you’re looking at is an admitted rapist, maybe you want to think twice about going on a date with them. At the very least, maybe you want to bring a friend along or only go out on a double-date? There is nothing particularly magical or difficult to understand about how the Predator Alert Tool for OkCupid works. Yet it appears that the people who build online social networking and dating websites simply haven’t given even the bare minimum of thought to the issue.
Then again, why would they? They’re often not, say, women of color. They’re almost exclusively white men. And it’s not currently in the business interests of the white, male, silicon valley C-level executives like Mark Zuckerberg to put any thought into how the ubiquitous communications infrastructure they’re profiting from could be used to support survivors of sexual assault and rape. After all, to do that, they’d first have to admit that up to a quarter of their male user base are admitted rapists.
The Predator Alert Tool for OkCupid represents literally the least they could do. But OkCupid has done its best to pretend that the tool doesn’t exist. Similarly, Facebook’s track record on the issue is horrific. The recent #FBrape campaign, which highlighted Facebook’s policy of allowing content depicting violence against women, is an encouraging example of an awareness-raising campaign that had some positive effect.
But “raising awareness” is not a solution, merely an articulation of the problem. Facebook can and should do a lot more to prevent sexual violence than just deleting pro-rape pages when someone complains. As one of the most important telecommunication technologies on the planet, it should help connect survivors to one another.
The Predator Alert Tool for Facebook is designed to do exactly that. It’s the newest in the suite of Predator Alert Tools to come out. Like its predecessors, the Predator Alert Tool for Facebook also proves how technologically simple and inexpensive a system of survivor support can be to implement.
Released to the public domain as free software, the Predator Alert Tool for Facebook is a free Facebook app you can add to your Facebook account. Doing so lets you read what people are saying about your Facebook friends’ behavior with regards to their consent practices, and facilitates an introduction to those people if they’re willing to talk with you about their experience. Built by survivors for survivors, the Predator Alert Tool for Facebook helps survivors connect, stay safe, and stay informed.
With each new Predator Alert Tool, it’s ever more obvious that every social network on the Internet can and should have some mechanism to support survivors of sexual violence that puts control in the hands of survivors themselves, not some faceless, employed administrator or computer algorithm that activates when you click the “report” button. Moreover, with each new Predator Alert Tool’s release, it’s ever more obvious that if building and maintaining such tools can be accomplished by a rag-tag crew of volunteers in mere months, it can certainly be accomplished by the world’s largest and most influential technology companies.
Unfortunately, as headlines the world over these past few months are making clear, rather than fund efforts to build technologically augmented support structures for survivors of sexual violence, tech firms, defense contractors, and government agencies are spending financial capital and taxpayer money on unconstitutional spying campaigns. There’s no good excuse for this. There’s no good excuse for not building sexual violence prevention tools into every social network on the Internet.
There’s no good excuse for not building sexual violence prevention tools into every social network on the Internet.
Let’s continue raising awareness of the problem. But let’s also take action. I’ve been writing Predator Alert Tool computer code. What are you going to do?
Learn more about how you can help support the Predator Alert Tool suite.
I’ve been meaning to get this post up for a while, but only just gotten a little time to catch up on some of my blogging backlog.
Once upon a time, I had this Nintendo Wii.
I bought it a few years back to serve as my exercise and entertainment system during my last season in Antarctica. Then my roommate hacked it and downloaded an NES emulator for it, and we mostly used it to play Tetris all season instead.
In my most recent move, I rediscovered it at the bottom of a tub of Ice mementos and holiday clothes. Now I have a Wii again! Complete with controllers and those nifty steering wheels for playing Mario Kart.
What I don’t have is a television. (Because who owns a television in 2014?)
But Maymay was visiting when I made this discovery, and decided we were going to make the Wii work somehow anyway. We considered trying to use one of our laptop screens as a stand-in for a TV, but that seemed complicated and like it would require a bunch of adapters we didn’t want to pay for, so instead Maymay just downloaded a Wii emulator (complete with a whole bunch of new games — whee!)
Fortunately, the Wii’s controllers use Bluetooth, so they were able to communicate with Maymay’s laptop the same way they would have with the Wii console itself. This is important, because I think the Wiimotes are really what makes the Wii experience fun. Trying to navigate a Wii game using a typical emulator’s keyboard commands just wouldn’t compare.
Only one thing was missing: The sensor bar. This is the little black bar that usually sits on top of your TV and tracks where the Wiimotes are in 3-dimensional space. (Otherwise, the only information the computer gets is how fast the controller is moving, via the gravitron, and which buttons you’re pressing.)
Unfortunately, the sensor bar plugs into the Wii using a proprietary attachment, so there was no way to connect it to the laptop without buying an expensive adapter. Since the idea was to do this project without spending a lot of (or, ideally, any) money, we figured we might just have to go without. But that ruled out playing any games that require the sensor bar, like Wii Bowling and Mario Galaxy and my favorite WarioWare: Smooth Moves. (Omg, it’s the most fun.)
That’s when we discovered the coolest thing about the whole Nintendo emulation process! The sensor bar isn’t actually doing the sensing in this equation.
I’d always assumed it was the Wiimotes sending a signal out of that little glass window in the end, and the sensor bar receiving it. (After all, Nintendo actually describes it as a Sensor Bar that is “sensitive to direct sunlight and various light and heat sources.“) Turns out that’s backwards. It’s actually the bar itself that emits the signal. The Wiimotes read it, and transfers that information via Bluetooth to the computer, which uses it to calculate their position in space. And the signal that the sensor bar puts out is infrared.
What is infrared light? It’s heat. (In fact, that same Wiimote trouble-shooting guide on the Nintendo webpage suggests checking the vicinity of your set-up for lit stoves, heaters, Christmas lights, etc. that might be interfering with your gameplay.) Turns out it’s about the same amount of heat as that released by your typical household tea-light candle.
So, if you get a couple of tea-lights and place them roughly the same distance apart as the infrared lights on your sensor bar would be, voila, you’ve got yourself a cheap “sensor bar” emulator!
We tried this out and it works great. But my favorite part is that having to burn candles in order to play videogames tickles all my romantic sensibilities about technomagic. 😉
. . .
Maymay doesn’t only come up with clever solutions for my need to play Mario Kart. They also perform even more legit technomagic, writing free code to help prevent sexual violence and get healthy food to people who need it. They’ve had a bad run of luck lately with two major car repair bills and a massive computer meltdown. If you can spare a couple of bucks to help them get back on the road, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.