Tag: democracy

The Copyright War Was Never Just About Copyright

copyright war

The so-called “copyright war” began years before I joined the fight, arguably in 1999, when defenders of the P2P platform Napster equated music piracy with liberty. Thus, rather than a rational discussion about the interdependence of creators and technology, Big Tech cultivated a syncretic foundation from which to sell the paradox that devaluing individual rights was somehow good for democracy. After all, it was easy to promote the view that copyright only mattered to wealthy rockstars and giant corporations while eliding the subtle but significant fact that it is a constitutional right of every citizen.

The “copyright war” peaked in the public eye in 2011/12 when the tech-funded campaign to defeat the anti-piracy bills SOPA and PIPA raged across the social platforms, convincing even professional creators that free speech and the “internet as we know it” were doomed if those bills became law. Outlandish lies about the perils of that legislation—mostly crafted and promoted by left-leaning organizations, journalists, and academics—masked the cyberlibertarian philosophy of tech’s most influential figures. Because for many leading tech-bros, it was never just about copyright, but rather, their barely disguised contempt for rights in general and that outdated political model we call the Republic. And what better way to hide an anti-democratic agenda than in plain sight with populist slogans like democratization?

Timothy Snyder, in a recent article making the point that destruction of the American state is the only agenda of tech oligarchs, writes: “The logic of ‘move fast and break things,’ like the logic of all coups, is to gain quick dramatic successes that deter and demoralize and create the impression of inevitability. Nothing is inevitable.” Citing Facebook’s old motto in context to events in Washington since the start of Trump 2.0 is spot on. Yes, for many tech companies the assault on rights like copyrights was purely about siphoning wealth from creators, but for the biggest egos in the room—like the guys on stage at the inauguration—it’s about usurping power.

When I first jumped into the copyright fight in 2011, I was lectured by Mike Masnick and others that I simply didn’t understand the economic concept of creative destruction. My friends and I were accused of “clinging to buggy whips in a world of automobiles,” failing to see how new technologies opened up new opportunities for artists, even as they closed “outdated” modes of production and distribution. But in the same way those messages distorted the math—omitting evidence of destruction without creation—the “digital rights” crowd ignored or endorsed the fact that what they were really promoting was the an ideological, anti-democratic agenda.

The idea that an independent photographer or songwriter might dare to remedy widespread, unlicensed uses of their works online was not just financially anathema to platform owners’ interests, it was philosophically repugnant that the “unthinking demos,” to quote Peter Thiel, should have any say whatsoever about the geniuses building our new utopia. This is the real spirit behind the “don’t stifle innovation” talking point—promoting that alleged inevitability cited by Snyder, now being used to push unfocused development of artificial intelligence as a mandate without public oversight.

From a broad perspective, the ideological assault on copyright was a powerful framework for teaching citizens to disregard the rights and dignity of other citizens through the anonymizing medium of digital technology—a “concealing paint emancipating us into savagery,” to borrow from William Goldman. Getting permission to use a creator’s work was scorned by the same rationales that Redditors applied to sharing stolen nudes of celebrities or which tech-evangelists still use to justify all manner of toxic content under the general view that it’s all just speech.

Parallel to Big Tech’s attack on the very idea of permission and respect for individual rights, the major platforms arrogated the role of oversight—and everyone fell for the trick. It was illusory oversight, of course, but both message and perception were that Facebook, Twitter, et al. offered better transparency (i.e., more truth) than any journalist or civil servant ever could. As more news and politics populated social media, the word “sunlight” was often repeated as a talismanic code, which meant that no government agent, no journalist, no expert could be trusted because the “real truth” lies somewhere in the morass of alternate realities hosted on the web.

The assault on copyright was often described by my friends and colleagues as a “canary in a coal mine” because it was easy for most observers to compartmentalize the “war” as a minor skirmish that, at worst, might deprive already rich people of a few bucks. In truth, it was one battle in a broader war that has now manifest in lawless, incompetent, and violent individuals mucking about in the federal government—including one non-American tech oligarch getting his mitts all over our public affairs without any oversight. As shocking as these events may be, they’re not surprising. Big Tech said, “Disrupt everything.” They weren’t kidding.

eXodus: Bluer Skies for Social Media or Just a Short Breath of Fresh Air?

social media

As of today, the social media platform BlueSky has grown to about 25 million users, which is still a fraction of the 600 million on X, but the recent spike at the former is attributable to people abandoning the latter. After Elon Musk acquired and rebranded Twitter, fired the accountability team, reinstated Trump, and then devoted both X and personal resources to supporting that campaign, the election was the final straw for many who fled to bluer skies.

Built as a “decentralized” platform, BlueSky takes an approach often advocated by Mike Masnick (who sits on the board) as a way to rescue the good of social media from the bad. But as I have argued for more than a decade, much of the harm caused by social media is too subtle to be designed out of the system. Even the best (or best-intended) social platforms are simply bad for democracy. BlueSky’s decentralized architecture may be more effective at weeding out haters and disinformation campaigns and providing users with greater control over what they see, block, etc., but this changes nothing about the reasons social platforms are fundamentally hazardous.

I am just about 50 pages into David Golumbia’s posthumously published magnum opus, Cyberliberatarianism:  The Right-Wing Politics of Digital Technology, and one view David and I share is that social media’s organic harms to democratic institutions simply outweigh its benefits as a “social” forum. We discussed this in the podcast we recorded in October 2021 and generally agreed that there is no technological solution for many of the medium’s inherent pitfalls. My short list of those pitfalls includes the following:

Provocative Nonsense Isn’t Just a Joke

It is natural to post and share short-attention-span editorial material like memes. Some of the best educated people I know post this kind of content all the time, and once in a while, I like or share the ones I find funny or on point. But when the subjects of these micro-editorials are political and provocative, they are not wholly distinguishable from “Q drops” as fuel added to a fire. Perhaps the most dismaying example of this is the profusion of memes applauding, or at least winking at, Luigi Mangione for allegedly shooting United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson.

A subject worthy of its own post (including a report that Mangione made a ghost gun ), the point worth summarizing in this post is that social media has eroded the moral barriers to political violence. Political violence is an inevitable biproduct of the erosion of democratic norms because a party’s destructive conduct (and indeed UH has blood on its hands) invites violence about which many will feel at least ambivalent, if not enthusiastic. Of course, as Dr. King warned, violence only multiplies violence, but as a novel feature of this vicious cycle, social media offers dopamine hits of provocative nonsense that allows even the observers of violence to laugh at, feel self-righteous about, or at least excuse conduct that should be rejected as a principle of functional democracy.

Aggregated Narcissism is the Ignorance of Crowds

Known formally as the Dunning-Kruger effect, microdoses of “information,” combined with the enticement to comment and share, feed that human frailty which allows us to pretend to know more about a particular subject than we do. Then, solidifying and amplifying our ignorance, social media provides “connection” to others who share the same uninformed belief. Thus, while many of us look aghast at the kind of unqualified nutjobs the next administration would tap for leadership of important departments, we must also acknowledge it is not Trump fans alone who have abandoned the notion of expertise concurrent with the growth of digital technology and social media.

Ignorance on topics ranging from vaccinations to NATO is just as deeply rooted in “progressive” politics as the right wing, and social media feeds the beast, partly due to the “IKEA Effect.” Akin to Dunning-Kruger, the IKEA Effect describes the satisfaction derived from completing a DIY project, only instead of assembling a desk without cracking any veneer, social media promotes and rewards the project of doing one’s own research, even to arrive at a conclusion that may be wholly untethered to reality. These psychological effects cannot be “programmed out” of the medium or countered with fact-checking. At best, they can be understood, much as my generation learned to understand the effects of watching too much television.

A Community of Frenemies is not a Community

“Jealousy” and “faction” are two words that appear with great frequency in the founders’ writings advocating adoption of the Constitution and creation of the United States. Whether the subject is election procedure, national defense, taxation, etc., The Federalist and other seminal writings all warn against faction as inherently destructive to common purpose, and out of that debate evolved the tradition of compromise and collaboration as necessary for keeping the Republic. But today, infighting among likely political allies is rampant thanks to social media, and it would be a mistake to believe that the mechanisms at work in the hostile takeover of the GOP are unique to the right-wing.

Although Golumbia presents an excellent case that Silicon Valley ideologies have always been grounded in right-wing, even fascistic, principles—and that bros like Zuckerberg and Musk have intentionally tilted the game in that direction—even “organic” interactions reveal that a prominent individual on the left will be attacked in a hate-storm if she critiques some unfounded position held by “progressives.” Thus, regardless of where people claim to sit on the political spectrum, one result of social media has been to scorn the idea of collaboration itself—a folly which has now become self-fulfilling prophecy because the reelection of an anti-democratic administration justifies the anti-collaborative spirit from which it drew power in the first place.

Disrupting the Purpose of Republicanism

Because social media amplifies and atomizes infighting, even the most dedicated and serious elected officials may find themselves in political jeopardy if they compromise or collaborate on the “wrong” issues. Representative government (republicanism) does not work well under 24-hour surveillance by the electorate—let alone an electorate animated by the Dunning-Kruger effect—or worse, professional trolls hired to attack the apostate the moment she steps out of line.

If one stammers at the upside-down world in which Liz Cheney is a “RINO,” social media made this alternate reality axiomatic by the same means that it became reasonable for so-called progressives to label President Obama a “warmonger.” The ordinary, even boring, job of governance has always operated behind the headlines of hot-topic issues. But due to the obligation to feed social media, nearly all politics are now performative, and the Member of Congress who does not entertain (i.e., does not deliver snappy comments on social media) may have a short and/or ineffective career.

No question that performance is always a part of politics, but social media enables more performative nonsense to flood the zone than was possible in the pre-digital era. Historically, a high-profile hearing, like a Senate confirmation hearing, would mainly be observed by the public through snippets and commentary edited by whichever news network we watched in the evenings. Meanwhile, low-profile hearings didn’t provide much opportunity to feed soundbites to constituents.

But speaking as someone who has watched a lot of back-burner hearings as part of his job, it is obvious that many are held for purely performative reasons because, of course, every Member has a social media person on staff who can make noise with a few provocative clips. That the substance of the hearing may be moot—or that most Americans won’t know it happened—doesn’t matter. The political value of the performance is enabled by social media, and this is a significant, and in my view negative, change to the nature of republicanism.

BlueSky is Nice but Can’t Fix the Problem

Yes, BlueSky is better (for now), and yes, I joined and started following people I believe to be thoughtful in their defenses of American democracy, etc. But the major adverse effects of social media cannot be eliminated either by design or the ethics of managers willing to keep hands off the algorithms. The affordances of the medium occur between the core technology and psychological responses to the experience—a thesis tragically supported by the fact that children can be coaxed into suicide by the material on their phones.

On that note, it will be interesting to see whether BlueSky supports platform accountability through legislation like the Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA), or a proper reading of Section 230, which was never meant to be blanket immunity for all providers hosting user content. Because ever since the so-called techlash of 2016, both the providers and their “digital rights” network have continued to push the narrative that somehow “restoring” the noble intent of the original internet should be the goal. But the original intent of the net’s first evangelists was not so noble (see Golumbia’s life work), and I think we all know Einstein’s definition of insanity.

Photo by: charlieblacker

Well, Now What?

I haven’t posted here since before the election, and admittedly, it has been difficult to resist escapism and simply stop giving a damn. That the United States (and with it the democratic world) is now in jeopardy is not in doubt. Rather, the questions for the moment are the order in which institutions will begin to break and what the reactions and counter-reactions will be to the first cracks in the foundation. From there, it is possible, even likely, that we will begin to ride the volatile extremes of history to which most living Americans are unaccustomed.

Amid all the commentary on social media, including the posts of many emigrees to BlueSky, there appears to be little acknowledgement that uncertainty defies prediction, but this is only natural. Uncertainty is frightening, and prediction, analysis, and editorial offer a semblance of mental sanctuary, even if they may be illusory. But the uncomfortable truth endures—that the details about the kakistocracy being assembled to “lead” the nation barely matter. Unqualified and stupid is unqualified and stupid. And things are going to break.

Speaking of escapism, I watched the movie Twisters the other night, but unfortunately, the very Hollywood narrative still prompted thoughts about the folly of the incoming administration. The protagonist, Addy (Kiernan Shipka), is an Oklahoma native and storm chaser who has figured out a way to diffuse tornadoes and, thereby, spare lives and property. Although the science underlying the plot may be far-fetched, the subject of human intellect versus deadly nature is real, as are the thousands of civil servants who protect, rescue, and recover when nature devastates whole communities.

Trump said he would take a sledgehammer to the administrative state, and with the nomination of so many incompetent lackeys to head major departments, he is poised to make good on that promise. But because this is what Americans voted for, it is tempting to say screw ‘em. Citizens who chose, even unwittingly, to dismantle the administrative state should accept that, for instance, tornadoes are just God’s little Shop-Vacs cleaning up excess Oklahomans from time to time. That is, after all, the logical conclusion of abandoning science and competence for the religiosity and magical thinking that now underwrites the Former Republican Party (FRP). There may be few atheists in Tornado Alley, but without NOAA, FEMA, and other federal agencies, more people will die praying.

Federal agencies are manned by both extraordinary individuals and slackers. When politicians want to hype the waste in government, they overemphasize the slackers and ignore the dedicated experts who save lives (and money) every year. When political hacks and outright loons are appointed to head agencies, we can expect the attrition of the extraordinary and promotion of the slackers. Then, when critical systems begin to break, people will react, panic, and, quite often, turn violent. It could be mines collapsing, or it could be poor readiness and response to a weather event. It might be another mismanaged pandemic worse than COVID-19 or a catastrophic disruption in national security. Odds are, it will be many systems breaking at the same time, but will people blame the idiots they elected, which is tantamount to blaming themselves?

If readers wonder what any of this has to do with the usual fare on this blog, which is often focused on copyright and criticism of Big Tech, the theme is defense of democratic institutions. I have devoted over a million words to defending copyright because it is an instrument of democracy that combines the values of free expression, the free market, and permission—all of which the major tech leaders abhor. Their only interest in free expression is its usefulness as data; their conduct is monopolistic, not competitive; and they have openly advocated abandoning the notion of permission with plenty of help from “progressive” academics and organizations like the EFF.

It may be obvious to millions now that Elon Musk’s defenses of the speech right are Orwellian bullshit, but it’s the same lie that Silicon Valley leaders have been selling for more than twenty years. From Barlow’s Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace (1996) to the alleged importance of generative artificial intelligence (GAI), the rhetoric remains that government institutions only stand in the way of “better living through technology.” That is the underlying, Galt-like hubris of the tech bros: they can fix or improve everything if we just abandon pesky, inefficient democracy.

The paradox of having an aversion to conspiracy theories is blindness to actual conspiracies. And unfortunately, Occam’s Razor points to the rational conclusion that tech oligarchs are the primary force behind the useful idiocy of the next administration. As discussed in an earlier post, if Peter Theil’s unvarnished scorn for democracy represents the motive for anointing J.D. Vance—and if reorganizing society into a system of corporate “patchworks” is the goal—then Trump’s job would be to wreck the administrative state, after which Vance is the putative young, energetic populist to preside over an ersatz democracy that is, in truth, some version of the corporate “patchwork” concept.

Contempt for the state is a rhetorical common ground shared by tech-utopians, Trumpians, and (frankly) so-called progressives who either don’t understand, or care, why the United States has been the most important democracy in the world. Its institutions are not perfect, but we have demonized those institutions in the patois of this era’s version of the Robber Baron—the tech oligarch. Not even the gun manufacturers can quite match Silicon Valley for conflating regulation of their industry with encroachment on our “freedoms.”

Returning to Twisters, the tech bros would have us believe that government only stifles the kind of bold innovation Addy represents. But in truth, their metaphorical avatar is Riggs (David Born), who invests in storm analysis technology to fund his scheme of scooping up property from families who are wiped out by tornadoes. So, although it is true that imperfect government oversight or regulation can yield irrational results, the absence of competent institutions will make America about as innovative and effective as the former Soviet Union. Various unpredictable events may militate against that outcome, but as the popular cliché insists, when people tell you who they are and what they intend to do, believe them.

In a bittersweet moment at a local bookstore yesterday, I saw that David Golumbia’s book Cyberlibertarians: The Right-Wing Politics of Digital Technology has been posthumously published. I was honored to have been asked by David to read the manuscript, but he passed away from cancer before I could send him complete thoughts. As the description states, “Leveraging more than a decade of research, David Golumbia traces how digital evangelism has driven the worldwide shift toward the political right, concealing inequality, xenophobia, dishonesty, and massive corporate concentrations of wealth and power beneath the utopian presumption of digital technology as an inherent social good.” Golumbia is right that digital tech is a social and political Trojan Horse, but what we do with that knowledge now that the enemy is inside the walls is anybody’s guess.

Photo by: Emagnetic