This Bud’s for You, ISIS?

On Monday, Google was granted a preliminary injunction in a lawsuit aimed to stop the investigation of the search giant by Mississippi Attorney General Jim Hood.  Thanks in part to leaked information from the computer hacking of Sony Pictures late last year, Google has attempted in the court of public opinion to portray Hood’s investigation as a movie-industry-backed witch hunt, despite the fact that the scope of Hood’s investigation is neither unprecedented nor lists copyright infringement anywhere near the top of the AG’s concerns.

In fact, at the very top of that list is whether or not Google is complying with a legally-binding, non-prosecution settlement entered into with the federal government in 2011 regarding the company’s knowingly advertising against traffic driven by illegal pharmaceutical transactions.  Settled for a whopping half-billion dollars to keep executives from facing possible criminal charges in that case, the question of whether or not Google has been complying with the terms of the settlement (i.e. has stopped profiting from illegal pharmaceutical traffic) sounds to me like a matter that’s in the public interest; and this type of due-diligence by AG Hood is in no way unprecedented. This is not to say that copyright holders do not have an interest in Hood’s investigation given that copyright infringement by Google is part of the scope.

Of course, in the court of law (not public opinion), Google’s suit aimed at stopping Hood’s investigation is predicated on safe harbors provided for website owners in the Communications Decency Act of 1996. In this post, I suggested that the over-broad application of safe harbors becomes a hyperextension of the “I didn’t know” defense, and is particularly bizarre when applied to companies that own technology designed specifically to know a great deal.  If the court finds that the AG’s investigation cannot move forward based on safe harbors in the 1996 law, this will further congeal both a legal and cultural bias that anything goes as long as it happens online.  That would certainly be a win for the major Internet companies, but in case after case, we see evidence as to why it would not be a win for the public.

By way of example of the world in which we now live, Silk Road founder and owner Ross Ulbricht was convicted in early February, though his defense was in part based on safe harbors in the the Communications Decency Act. But, do a Google search for “Silk Road” right now, and Item #3 will be a link to silkroaddrugs.org, which ostensibly provides guidance to new anonymous marketplaces for illegal narcotics.  In fact, the entire first page doesn’t even list one recent article reporting on the outcome of the case against Ulbricht.  Y’know, because the Internet is all about the most useful and most relevant information — that is if you go hunting for it behind whatever manipulated algorithmic logic a search company has decided to prioritize.

Note:  Silk Road’s market trafficked in illegal narcotics while Google’s settlement was regarding illegal transactions for prescription pharmaceuticals.

A story reported yesterday on CNN Money reveals a new perspective on the whole “Aw shucks, we didn’t know” defense by companies like Google — and it’s the B2B perspective.  Because when money comes into the equation between advertiser and media company, bullshit doesn’t work quite so well. Imagine you’re Anheuser-Busch, one of the most American of all brands, the company whose iconic Budweiser Clydesdales were filmed standing in Liberty State Park bowing their heads at the empty patch of Manhattan skyline where the Twin Towers once stood.  Now, imagine your brand is being advertised on YouTube against ISIS recruiting videos.  Do you see a problem?  Set aside public opinion and the courts for a moment, because when major advertisers say, “You better be able to control where our ads appear,” Google will suddenly find it within its power to know far more than it often pretends it can know.  The CNN article quotes a Google spokesperson thus:  “We also have stringent advertising guidelines, and work to prevent ads appearing against any video, channel or page once we determine that the content is not appropriate for our advertising partner.”  And that’s great, but then if Google can actually achieve this goal, can the company not reasonably know other things, like whether or not it is engaged in any of the illegal activities being investigated by an attorney general?

Social Media’s Power to Manipulate

The FCC, in a narrow vote this week, elected to adopt rules to protect the principle known as “net neutrality.” The agency will now regulate broadband as a public utility in order to ensure that ISPs cannot discriminate between one kind of customer and another, namely that they may not speed up traffic for higher paying users or slow it down for lower paying ones.  Many view the vote for “net neutrality” as a win for universal digital rights, others see it as government overreach into the free market; and both sides claim to be on the side of free speech.  I have expressed doubts before about some of the more extreme fears of a world without net neutrality, and Alex Pareene, writing for Gawker, reminds us that the “win” in this case can be credited to what he calls a “cartel” of Internet industry giants like Google, Microsoft, eBay, Facebook, and Amazon. Whether or not net neutrality is essential for maintaining a level playing field for competing interests, one rhetorical talking point overused by all parties is this idea of preserving the Internet as “the greatest tool for free expression and democracy.”  It ought to be, but the more I consider this premise, the more I wonder if it may prove to be one of the worst lies of the digital age — no matter how fast it travels through the proverbial tubes.

In an article posted on Ars Technica, cryptographer and security expert Bruce Schneier explains exactly how easy it can be to manipulate public opinion through social media.  I’ve been on this kick since starting this blog — the idea that more expression can actually make the electorate less well informed, not because people are necessarily dumb or lazy, but because the way in which we take in information now is so heavily bombarded with aggregated impressions.  Unless one really has time to research and calmly consider every story that might pop up on a Facebook feed, for instance, it’s almost impossible not to be influenced by the constant flow of impressions being made with images, headlines, and memes.  The more these impressions jibe with our own biases, the more they solidify those prejudices, making us less receptive to ideas that might challenge our thinking.  And because a walled garden like Facebook tends to expose us to items based on our group of like-minded Friends and on an algorithmic interpretation of our tastes and interests, the experience is far more circumscribed than we might necessarily notice. Schneier offers a relatively simple example of possible political manipulation thus:

“During the 2012 election, Facebook users had the opportunity to post an “I Voted” icon, much like the real stickers many of us get at polling places after voting. There is a documented bandwagon effect with respect to voting; you are more likely to vote if you believe your friends are voting, too. This manipulation had the effect of increasing voter turnout 0.4% nationwide. So far, so good. But now imagine if Facebook manipulated the visibility of the “I Voted” icon based on either party affiliation or some decent proxy of it: ZIP code of residence, blogs linked to, URLs liked, and so on. It didn’t, but if it did, it would have had the effect of increasing voter turnout in one direction. It would be hard to detect, and it wouldn’t even be illegal. Facebook could easily tilt a close election by selectively manipulating what posts its users see. Google might do something similar with its search results.”

The implications of that are rather staggering.  Forget lobbying and other forms of corporate meddling in the political process.  A vested interest could sway an election at the local, state, or federal level without anyone really noticing, and paradoxically by using these same technologies we believe provide us with better insight and a stronger voice in the process. The Internet can hardly be a tool for transparency, if we’re each looking through our own opaque set of lenses; but then combine this habit of human nature with  manipulation of the data, and you get the opposite result of the new enlightenment that was supposed to come with the digital age. Again from Schneier:

“The first listing in a Google search result gets a third of the clicks, and if you’re not on the first page, you might as well not exist. The result is that the Internet you see is increasingly tailored to what your profile indicates your interests are. This leads to a phenomenon that political activist Eli Pariser has called the “filter bubble”: an Internet optimized to your preferences, where you never have to encounter an opinion you don’t agree with.”

I think Pariser’s “filter bubble” accurately describes the human component that is so often excluded from the discussion, but I will also be presumptuous enough to examine this notion of “an opinion you don’t agree with.”  Depending on how we define that phrase, I actually find the social media experience is chockfull of opinions with which I disagree and that I could spend an unreasonable amount of time sifting through all those opinions in search of competing ideas. After all, opinions and ideas are not quite the same thing. Competing ideas are about problem solving. Competing opinions are mostly theater, and media loves theater. Cable TV news produced many years worth of passive theater comprising competing opinions in the service of few ideas.  Social media turns this into participatory theater that adds the element of narcissism, which serves to exacerbate the divisiveness in our political process.  In short, I suspect the environment is ideal for manipulators to subtly manipulate political outcomes without us  noticing.  The promise that the Internet “democratizes” information certainly sounds progressive, but the ways in which we interact with these tools as they are designed doesn’t necessarily foster progress; and to Schneier’s point, it doesn’t have to be the least bit democratic.

Why I Don’t Really Hate Hollywood

P1180231Once again, I maintained my tradition of not making it through the Oscars.  I haven’t cared much about the show itself in years, and I have even less patience for the pre and post-game buzz about everything that’s right or wrong with Hollywood, with the nominees themselves, with the Academy, and most especially with what anyone is wearing. Okay, I’m  a curmudgeon.  But not really.  Because the truth is a love/hate relationship with Hollywood has been part of the American story since before the L-A-N-D came off the famous sign that gives the town its name. Even the word movies was originally a pejorative adopted by the farming community of Southern California to describe those decadent idolaters who made those damn “flickers.”  I really don’t think it’s possible to have an industry built on so much passion, ego, fear, sex, and money without people finding it alternately alluring and repulsive. I also believe it is never quite possible to love cinema without liking Hollywood at least a little.

For one thing, what many people think of as independent cinema isn’t necessarily independent from Hollywood so much as it is codependent on Hollywood.  Big film and little film are more  symbiotic than they are competitive.  For example, the indie producer who needs to pay lower day rates to actors or skilled technicians is able to hire those folks because big movies pay well enough that they can afford to take on low-budget projects between the larger ones.  But the symbiosis is even more intrinsic than that.  For instance, if the production designer of a low-budget, indie feature has also done massively complex, studio projects, he is going to be a huge asset to that smaller film, as will any other experienced member working in another department.  A novice director can live or die by the experience of the people willing to work for him or her.  Additionally, little film benefits from the technological advancements driven by big film. And then, of course, big film looks to little film for new talent and fresh ideas. So, the line between Hollywood and independent cinema isn’t so much bright red as a kind of fuzzy pink.

How “independent” a film is really depends on how much creative control is maintained by the visionary (or visionaries) who want to make the work in the first place.  Naturally, if a filmmaker needs five-hundred thousand dollars from a small group of private investors, she has a better shot of keeping creative control than if she needs a hundred million dollars from a couple of large, corporate financing companies.  On the other hand, an example I often cite is Steven Spielberg, whom few people would describe as “independent” even though he is certainly a director who has full creative control over his films.  So, independent isn’t necessarily about scale or budget; and it certainly isn’t about the style or content of a film.  Plenty of absolute garbage has been produced independently, and plenty of great movies were produced by the old studio system.  But I suspect that because the golden age of indie (from the late 1980s to the early aughts) lost much of its gleam about the same time the Internet began to blossom, and big studios generally transitioned into franchise fare, this helped calcify the “us” and “them” sensibility that assumes a separation between “the creators” and “the industry.”

Make no mistake — Hollywood studios certainly have executives with MBAs who wouldn’t know which end of a camera to blow into.  Such is the nature of large corporations.  Still, the symbiosis between big film and little film exists, and this remains relevant because there is a persistently naive sentiment floating around in cyberspace that digital technology somehow enables truly visionary creators to “bypass the gatekeepers.”  This sounds idyllic, but as you run beyond the cliff edge and hang there Wile-E-Coyote-like, feet treading air a thousand feet above the desert, you have to ask yourself, “Bypass to go where exactly?”

Simply put, digital technology has only lowered the barriers to entry by putting certain tools of production and distribution into everyone’s hands. And this is unquestionably cool.  But entry implies a portal of some kind — we might even call it, well, a gate.  Maybe it’s the literal, iconic gate of Paramount Pictures, or maybe it’s the metaphorical gate of investors willing to back a second film based on the relative success of a first. By the way, finding a distributor for that first film requires passage through another kind of gate, if you will. But it’s really that next project that is the key.  Technology indisputably helps get a first film done, but any experienced filmmaker will tell you that you can only make a movie on favors and Fluffer-Nutters once.  As a general rule, you have to pay people to work on the second film, which means at least some gatekeepers (i.e. investors) are going to get involved, and they’re going to want a distribution plan that involves at least some return on that investment. And there is nothing about digital technology that overturns this basic business model.

With the approach of the Oscars, piracy of the nominated films spiked, and concurrent with reports of this increase came predictable comments that “the industry” must respond by making films available across all platforms simultaneously. This is supposedly the only answer to piracy because “producers need to understand the way consumers want to watch films.”  Perhaps.  But it is interesting that the prevailing faith in the Internet as an expansive, inclusive, incubator of diversity also ignores just how homogenous this demand for universal distribution actually is.  For one thing, there is no “the industry” in this context because there is no one way to market and distribute the broad range of films. Both films and audience trends will continue to shape one another, and we should not assume there is a single strategy that suits all projects.

No matter what, piracy is universally harmful, especially to the small filmmaker most eager to experiment with new platforms. I just met a writer/director who self-financed a small movie and made it modestly profitable by splitting up the rights and negotiating a fairly complex schedule of distribution windows, licensed to various channels from DVD to VOD to streaming. That’s not a new approach to licensing, but what serves both the filmmaker and the audience is the expansion of legal platforms, giving both producer and consumer more than one way to engage in a viable market.  Meanwhile, that same film was also heavily pirated upon its release, and the plus-or-minus x% on a modest film expecting modest returns will surely be the difference between attracting investors to the next project or not.  Meanwhile, how did this filmmaker self-finance his film?  With money he made working on big, Hollywood movies.  See what I mean?