Category: Internet Culture

Everything to do with discussions of Internet culture

Yes, I do use ad-blockers, and No, I don’t feel bad about it
Ad-blockers are small, self-explanatory bits of software that have been around for ages – preventing countless numbers of adverts from being displayed on the websites of those who make use of them every day.

In the past few weeks, a debate has been ignited over this practice, with the wildly successful ‘Peace’ app being pulled from download by its creator just days after its release – supposedly having undergone a change of heart.

Advertisers and publishers are understandably unhappy at the number of people who choose to block their adverts, even going as far as to call the act itself ‘immoral’ – equating the consumption of content for free with theft.

I was challenged by a colleague in a discussion about the issue when I said that I had been using ad-blocking software for years. It was something I’d never really stopped to consider in any sort of depth, and once I’d typed up my response I was encouraged to post it up here.

Before we go on, I should say that this isn’t really about the legitimacy or otherwise of ads themselves, but the use of ad-blockers specifically. You’ll probably note that there ads on this site, for example. As far as I’m concerned, ads have their place, and you can completely consistently choose to monetise content with them whilst also simultaneously respecting the decision of others to block them. With that disclaimer out of the way, here we go.

Why I use ad-blockers
1. Adverts are intrusive – Online adverts dilute the experience of the website you are trying to visit, and often interfere with being able to view the content itself. When I want to read an article, I don’t want a giant flashing banner to distract me from what I’m doing – not to mention provide a massive headache.
2. A dark history – Is it any wonder that people can’t stand adverts, and seek to block them where possible, when we’ve been subjected to pop-ups, pop-unders, scrolling flash adverts, and sneaky malware for the past decade plus? Adverts had their chance, and they screwed it up. The day that browsers implemented popup blocking was a wonderful day. Blocking ads completely is just the next natural step.
3. Blocking online behavioural tracking – This is related to the above, but in a different way. Not only have ads interfered with the operation of our devices, but now we find out that they have been tracking our moves across the web, building up profiles that they can then sell on to third parties. Uhm, nope.
Why I don’t feel bad about it
1. Ethics – Without going into some elongated discussion about moral relativism, the suggestion that somehow blocking ads is ‘unethical’ or ‘immoral’ is one that I find massively distasteful, and frankly ridiculous. It seems to me that if anybody is going to throw the first stone in an ethics discussion, then the advertising industry should remember the glass mansion that they’ve built for themselves.
2. Information should be free – I am aware of the many and varied caveats, exceptions, and qualifications to this, but in principle I subscribe to the ideology that information and knowledge should be free.
3. I’m not going to buy your stuff, however ‘relevant’ it is – One argument is that ‘if only ads were relevant, then this wouldn’t be an issue!’. To me, that misses the point. The issue isn’t about how relevant or otherwise the ads are; it’s about the fact that the ads exist in the first place. In order to actually get really ‘good’ ads (if there is such a thing) that people will click on, it requires a massive amount of profiling.
4. I didn’t agree to pay for your content – I reject the idea that by simply visiting a website to read content that has been made publicly available, that somehow I have agreed to finance its operation. Just because advertisers and publishers have chosen to hang their existence on one specific kind of economic model, does not mean that I am obliged – either legally or morally – to support it.
5. Public space – Fundamentally, I resent the increasing ingression into public, communal spaces by capitalist entities. On the web, at least I can control my exposure to the constant barrage of advertisements, and limit their effects. I will choose whether or not to block unsolicited adverts that are transmitted to my device, and I think that is my right.
6. I will choose who and how I support financially – In years gone by, before publications moved online, people would refuse to support certain ones (such as the Daily Mail) by simply not purchasing their paper. Now, it can be almost impossible to tell the source of a link without clicking on it first. URL un-shortening services exist, but they are cumbersome and impractical. One of the big reasons I use ad-blockers is because I refuse to inadvertently finance publications with reprehensible editorial positions.
Obiter

The relationship we have with information, and the media/publishers has been completely transformed. It’s something I have seen first hand, with good friends losing their jobs as photographers due to the democratisation of that industry. It’s something I don’t actually have an issue with. Content doesn’t stop getting created just because the professionals of olden days are no longer getting the financials they were previously – we’ve seen that in the music industry. It just means that the kind of content, the source, and people’s ability to rely on it as a full time occupation changes. Ideologically this is something that I’m comfortable with.

To finish, here’s the question that sparked all of this thought-process off, and my tl;dr response:

Do you feel like you’re supporting the publishers whose content you’re consuming?

No, but I reject the premise that there’s any sort of obligation or moral requirement to. Infact, I purposefully choose not to support many publishers on purpose. If I want to support them financially, then I’ll do so in other ways.
23/09/2015
Facebook’s Real Name Policy is Back
Facebook have pushed ahead with the enforcement of their ‘real name’ policy, which requires users to use their real, or ‘authentic’ name.

This comes after a previous attempt stalled, following an uproar from the community which forced Facebook to give a rare apology.

Here’s the gist of the requirements:

Source: https://www.facebook.com/help/112146705538576

Sounds fair enough on the surface of it, and gives enough room for interpretation to allow aliases or nicknames – precisely what appeased the criticisms from last time. However, the practical implementation seems quite different.

Again, these additional requirements don’t seem too restrictive. If anything, they seem fairly flexible, whilst retaining some sort of continuity. However, the practical implementation has been completely different.

Today, there have been reports that users have been locked out of their accounts, after Facebook has deemed their names to not be ‘authentic’ enough. This included a determination that the name ‘Daz’ (a common offshoot of Darren) was not acceptable, and ‘Nikki’ should be changed to ‘Nicola’ – despite the insistence that shortened nicknames (like ‘Bob’ in the case of Robert) are fine.

Now comes the kicker. In order to get back into your account, you either need to provide a ‘real’ name, or some sort of ‘acceptable identification’ to prove that you are known by the name or alias you had beforehand.

Let’s take a look at what the acceptable forms of identification are, according to Facebook:

Uhm, sorry… what? Despite their warning that you should be sure to blank out any other personal information, there is no reason in hell that anybody should ever be giving copies of the above documents to Facebook. The idea that this would ever be requested is completely ridiculous. If Facebook demanded I send a copy of my passport – redacted or otherwise – then they would be politely told where to shove it.

But hey! Should you not wish to share such an important piece of sensitive ID with a social network based in a different country, you have another option. You can provide two bits of ID from the following list:

This just becomes more ludicrous. Here’s why:
- There is no way for Facebook to verify any of the above properly.
- All of this ‘evidence’ can easily be doctored by any muppet.
- Even if you are known by a certain name in your everyday life, you won’t have that alias on official documents that require your legal name. In which case, how on earth are you meant to prove the existence of a nickname?
- WTF is a ‘permit’ anyway?
There are plenty of reasons why people would legitimately want to avoid using their full, legal name online (those in teaching, or the health service, or…); those who have already lost the ability to remain hidden in searches thanks to previous changes, with the process to use a nickname or alias instead verging on the impossible. But there’s something far more fundamental here: That it’s absolutely fuck all to do with Facebook what name you choose to go by. Making determinations about what is and isn’t ‘authentic’ is evidence of an organisation that has no concern for its users other than its own commercial interests.

We need to find a better way to communicate than this by using this lot.
27/11/2014
Don’t Blame Twitter for the Failings of the Law

Recently, it was reported that the daughter of Robin Williams has left Twitter, after receiving graphic tweets depicting his suicide. This event has led to pressure being placed on the platform to take stronger action against those engaging in abusive behaviour:

‘They have a moral responsibility to protect their users, but they simply don’t.’

– Austin Awareness charity campaigner Kevin Healey. (#)

In response, Twitter has issued a statement declaring that they will be re-considering their present policies.

‘We will not tolerate abuse of this nature on Twitter.’

– Del Harvey, Twitter Vice President of Trust and Safety. (#)

The issue of abusive users on social channels is nothing new, providing a constant source of easy headlines. Part of the reason for this is due to a quirk of circumstance. ‘Ordinary’ Twitter users that receive abusive mentions (public messages directed to them) are able to block the users in question, so that they no longer see any further messages in their notifications (#). Whilst there is clearly no way to prevent the initial messages, this is a quick and simple way to stem any future abuse from that user account.

The real problem comes when there are users who are in the public spotlight. Just as these people will be the recipient of many messages from fans and well-wishers, they will also inevitably receive abusive communications in higher numbers. At this stage, the blocking mechanism becomes ineffective due to the volume involved. Given the already elevated profile of these people, there is more of a story to be told. It becomes something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s important to note that this is a very particular problem, and one that the average Twitter user will not encounter. That, of course, doesn’t mean that it’s something that should just be ignored.

Abusive messages sent to those in the public eye is far from a new phenomenon, pre-dating the existence of the Internet. Bags of letters from fans sent through the post would also be accompanied by hate mail and death threats.

In the UK, Section 1 of the Malicious Communications Act 1998 makes it an offence to send a ‘letter, electronic communication or article of any description’ containing a ‘message which is indecent or grossly offensive’, or ‘a threat’ to another person. (#) This covers not only abusive postal communications, but those sent over Twitter as well. There are similar protections enacted in different jurisdictions worldwide.

Given that this is the case, why do we place a greater burden of expectation on online service providers than we do on those who enforce the law?

The Royal Mail does not have the same technical abilities available to them as entities such as Twitter do, and therefore it manages to avoid coming under fire for acting as the carrier of abusive messages. However, the idea that responsibilities of the State should be shifted to private entities in this manner is troubling.

People will always use different methods of communication to send abusive messages. The Internet makes this easy to do so in a quick, and highly visible way. Given that these actions are illegal, then it is something that should be pursued by the arms of the law that are meant to protect its citizens. The responsibility of protecting society, mediating between individuals, or making determinations of fact should not be left to any private party – be that Facebook, Twitter, the Royal Mail, or your own ISP.

Of course, online platforms often do make determinations about the kind of community they wish to foster. Content that is completely legal to host (such as porn) is prohibited on many services. The question about how these policies are created and shaped is undoubtedly one that users should speak up about, and challenge where they disagree. It is completely right that Twitter users should express their discontent if the community which they are a part of is becoming something undesirable. However, if the issue here is really about the volume of abuse that individuals are engaged in communicating, and the resulting inability of the law to effectively deal with it, then let’s be honest about that. Ultimately, this is a societal and legal problem, not the responsibility of the Internet.

15/08/2014
Observations from a Facebook exile
A number of years ago I found myself staring at my laptop, fretting over how to best represent myself up in a single paragraph – for MySpace, none the less. It was at that point that I decided that enough was enough. One by one, I deleted my various ‘social networking’ accounts, before that was even really a word we attached too much baggage to. There wasn’t any pomp or ceremony; no feigned outrage. I simply dropped off the radar.

It was liberating.

More than any other network, leaving Facebook was the most satisfactory, and I wrote a blog to explain why that was after a few months of questioning. A lingering anxiety about what other people’s perceptions faded away. There was no pressure to think about what audience my comments were being directed towards; how I should present myself; or what things I could and shouldn’t say. I didn’t spend time flicking through the profiles of people to check up into what they were doing, and didn’t inevitably feel like I was being left out somehow. There wasn’t the same feeling that everybody in the world was having a massive party, and that even if you were invited, it was just to be polite.

After a few days, the constant stream of mundane updates from people who I wasn’t even that friendly with in person gained perspective. The behaviour of those whose social interactions were wound up so tightly into the fabric of Facebook, referencing it in all sorts of situations, began to seem increasingly unusual – just as the acts and seeming communitas of those deeply embroiled in drug use are impenetrable to those who are not going through the same experience. Facebook seemed like a bizarre addiction that I was glad to be rid of.

But there were consequences.

Whilst being removed from immediate exposure to every detail of other people’s lives was undeniably a relief, it became clear that there was very little in the way of a middle ground in this regard; many people who I was in touch with beforehand just disappeared completely. In a way, this was a great test of seeing who was interested enough in you to continue to stay in contact, but it isn’t really that simple. I discovered that I no longer knew anything about nights out organised by friends, as ‘invitations’ had been sent out online. When I challenged people about this? The response was simple: “Well you’re not on Facebook.” The default mode of communication had switched in people’s minds, and if you weren’t there too, then that was your problem.

This carried on into other areas. When deciding to terminate my account, I was painfully aware that there were a number of people who I dearly wished to remain in touch with, but who stayed in different cities that were strewn across the globe. I dismissed this at the time by asserting confidently that if we really wanted to speak, we would do so; Facebook isn’t the only way to communicate on the web after all. Thing is, whilst that might be a nice idea in theory, trying to get other people to make the mental shift towards sending e-mails rather than what they have become used to turned out to be a fool’s errand.

It was this that eventually led me to the position that I held up until the recent past. Upon travelling through America with no phone, and no way to contact people that I met, I decided to sign up for a Facebook account that I would keep entirely for people who I didn’t get to see in real life. I used a fake name and details; kept the privacy settings as tight as possible; and told everybody else that I simply didn’t use it anymore.

To some extent, it worked. I was buffered from most of what I had hated about the network so much in the first place, but it brought with it its own variety of problems. What happens when friends of your friends add you? You can’t exactly explain to them that you aren’t accepting the connection because it’s for people in a different place, because… well, so are they. What do you do about people in your own city that you don’t see very often, but for legitimate reasons? Are they excluded? Then there was the difficulty of dealing with other people giving you away by tagging you in posts (which you can’t do anything about if it’s on their timeline).

I’m back.

Recently I decided that it was time to open the floodgates.

In the time I had spent living a secret Facebook existence, there had been changes. After consistent challenges from privacy advocates – including pressure from the European Commission – Facebook introduced additional controls to allow users to filter who saw what content. This was a welcome two finger salute to Zuckerberg’s totalising vision of people only having ‘one identity’. It meant that if you only wanted to see updates from certain people, you could. If you have to accept somebody as a friend, but don’t really want them to see everything you post, then you can sort that out as well. It was far from perfect, and remains so to this day. Many people are unaware of the possibilities; the settings are complicated and spread across different parts of the site; and the format is subject to such constant change that even users who are clued up can get confused in the process. However… it was a start. If I’m going to have a connection with someone halfway across the world that I’ve met once at a party, then I may as well have the same with people that I see every weekend. At that point, whether or not their tangible friendship is any more or less authentic is largely irrelevant.

It could well be the case that this is the inevitable result of the clever honey trap offered up by Facebook; offering more and more incrementally until you find yourself completely immersed in their network. It probably just underlines and demonstrates the hard truth that the only way to really avoid becoming sucked in is to delete your account completely. However, I don’t feel particularly bad about it anymore. I’ve put my qualms to one side. Years of working in marketing have meant that I am comfortable with the balancing act that is required, and frankly… it’s just a tool to promote the things that I am interested in. My real friends are still the ones I go drink copious amounts of whisky with; or cook with; or have long Skype conversations with. Facebook doesn’t have the same sort of hold, because the importance I place over transient relationships has diminished with time. I know who and what is important to me, so it doesn’t really matter anymore.

Insights from the Prodigal Son

It’s been a few weeks since I slipped back into the fold now, and it’s been interesting. Here’s what I’ve observed so far:
- People really do post the most inane drivel. That goes without saying, but the sheer extent of it is almost unbelievable. People that I respect in real life come across as preachy, argumentative, naive, and simple-minded.
- Despite getting bugged for years about signing up to Facebook, there was no massive rush for people to connect. Instead of actively seeking out others, people connect in a gradual way. I would say it’s organic, but it is heavily influenced by the prompts and suggestions offered by the service. Users are led in everything they do; passive rather than proactively engaged. Very few people actually use Facebook anymore with any sort of excitement or depth; it’s just something that’s become a ritual.
- People check up on others a lot more than they post.
- There is a severe drought of good original content. Rather than posting blogs, articles, poems, pictures, or things they’ve created, the same memes and drab political commentary is shared and re-shared without second thought.
- The initial friend request is the only interaction I have had with almost all of those I’ve connected with since coming back onto Facebook ‘properly’.
- People fail to respond to chat messages, despite appearing online, and actively resent any initiation to talk as some sort of intrusion. Coming from a web culture where you logged on to talk in this very manner, it boggles the mind why anybody would appear online if they have no intention to do so. This especially applies to people who have requested my friendship in the first place.
- Even with contacts arranged into groups, there is still a strong inclination to default to the widest possible audience. That applies equally to reading, as well as publishing content. It’s difficult to resist looking through the full list to see what’s going on when you know it’s just a click away… and even though you know the lack of value.
Let’s see what happens next.
20/09/2013
Do we need a ‘Cyber Fire Department’?
Yesterday I attended the ScotSoft 2013 technology forum hosted by ScotlandIS in the Sheraton ‘Grand Hotel and Spa’ through in Edinburgh. The event – followed afterwards by an awards dinner (which I did not attend!) – had a number of speakers that covered issues across the software business lifecycle, from acquiring initial financial backing to long-term development plans.

The keynote was on the future of the Internet, and came from none other than Google’s ‘Chief Internet Evangelist’, Vint Cerf. It only took a few minutes to realise why he rightfully deserves what is probably the coolest job title that any self-respecting geek could ever have. Whilst the rest of the day had been very much focussed on those involved in the business side of the tech industry, Vint spoke with a natural and pervasive authority on everything from the implementation of IPv6 (‘Go ask your ISPs what their roll-out plan is’), to the distributed and often chaotic nature of Internet Governance. It should perhaps have been obvious that this would be the case from one of the ‘founding fathers’ of the Internet, but it is a rare thing indeed to find someone who is not only so formidably technically able, but who also has the charm and charisma to communicate that passion and ability to others so effectively. In many ways, it brings into question the existence of the much fabled, so-called ‘digital native’, and whether or not such a thing can or should be defined by reference to any particular generation.

Vint covered many topics in the short time he was allocated – from the crude beginnings of ARPANET, all the way through to using TCP/IP in space – but there was one fleeting reflection in particular that really captured my imagination: the idea of a ‘Cyber Fire Department’. This wasn’t something that there was too much time spent expanding upon, but he explained by giving the example of somebody trying to single handedly stop their house from burning down with a bucket of water; eventually, they would need other people to assist with bigger hoses and more water than they could supply on their own. With people increasingly concerned about the issue of safety online, the notion of a service that responded to people experiencing overwhelming technological difficulties was something that he suggested ‘we should be thinking about’.

It’s this idea I’d like to think about.

Why on earth would we need or want such a thing?

At first, it might seem a ludicrous proposition, especially to those who still instinctively perceive the Internet as some sort of glorified playground for teenagers to frivolously socialise. To many, the web simply isn’t serious business, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. Truth is, it may well be easier to simply be dismissive rather than to face the difficult challenges that will inevitably need to be tackled as the result of the increasing permeation of the Internet into our everyday lives.

We now have a globally interconnected network which has transformed the way we communicate, and become incorporated into the very foundation of our economies. This is not a phenomenon that is going to be reversed, and if anything, is set to increase rapidly as mobile devices proliferate, and more and more objects get the ability to share information on the net (the latest hot phrase being the ‘Internet of things’).

Just as fire spreads quickly from adjoining buildings due to carelessness or lack of education, the same is true of the Internet; weaknesses in one system potentially having a devastating knock-on effect on others that are connected either directly or indirectly. In order to ensure the integrity of such an important asset, it appears that to contemplate the proposition of an emergency cyber response brigade seems eminently sensible.

What would a ‘Cyber Fire Department’ look like? What would it involve?

Let us assume that such a service was run separately from region to region, rather than some centralised, global endeavour. Aside from simply flying in the face of the distributed nature of the web in principle, I’m sure that all of us can imagine the bureaucratic nightmare that such an international entity would inevitably end up finding itself embroiled in (ICANN, anyone?).

The gut reaction to the suggestion of such a service may be to query the merit of a 999/911 type response to issues that do not fundamentally involve crimes relating to the person, but this model doesn’t necessarily have to be the one that is adopted. If brought into existence, the thing would not be required to have the same status as the major emergency services, nor indeed have to be publicly funded. One needs only to look at the myriad of examples that are out there already, such as the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) to see how such a service can be both publicly available and independent.

…but would the market swallow this? There are already commercial offerings from the likes of the ‘Geek Squad’ marketed as emergency technical support. It seems unlikely that there would be any philanthropic provision from a non-profit organisation with substantial enough backing to effectively take on the private actors, which would seem to indicate the inevitability of some sort of central Government involvement.

Perhaps a bigger hurdle to be overcome would not be the financial element of the funding, but the ideological implications of the origin. Already, creeping state involvement in the regulation of the Internet is being pushed back by advocates of the ‘open web’, and the introduction of such a significant step could be easily seen as too much interference in a sphere that by its very nature transcends the boundaries of nation states.

How far do we take this?

If we accept the premise that the Internet is a precious enough asset that we should adopt some sort of cyber fire department, then there are other interesting questions that become raised as a consequence. Off the top of my head, some of these might include:
- Ageing computer systems and equipment pose some of the most significant security risks. Should we implement an MOT style check to ensure that the equipment people are using is of an adequate standard to help ensure safety online?
- Do we grant the cyber fire department statutory powers to ensure that ‘cyber safety’ regulations are enforced, much as their equivalents in the actual fire service have?
- Viruses are often spread by those who are unfamiliar with how to properly navigate online. Does this mean that we should implement a driver’s license style test before they are granted access to the Internet?
Some of this sounds preposterous, and would (rightly) be considered a massive encroachment into online freedom, but it wasn’t so long ago that the idea of state-wide Internet filters blocking access to content including message boards seemed completely out of the question too.

Thinking about it

The question about whether we should adopt an emergency cyber response service in the style of a cyber fire brigade may seem like being a long way off from any serious implementation, and it probably is. However, the discussion does spark off a whole slew of related considerations that we should be taking seriously. As the UK Government comes under criticism for its ‘digital by default’ strategy for not taking into account those without either the access or training to get online, the issue of digital engagement and education seems to go hand-in-hand with a lot of the concerns relating to online safety.

Whatever the outcome, we are at a point of transition, and the policy issues that are involved are as fascinating as they are complex. Like Vint said yesterday, it’s something we should be thinking about.
30/08/2013
Online Abuse: Asking the Wrong Questions

The whole discussion about anonymous abuse online is asking the wrong questions. Rather than target the technology, let’s look at what’s really going on. It’s far too easy to point fingers at the web, rather than analyse how we use it and why.

Head over to the Open Rights Group website to read more from me on this.

19/08/2013
The Ask.FM saga continues

The illustrious Mark Leiser has quoted yours truly in his latest post on the ask.fm/Twitter abuse saga over on the Drum. I’ve got an article on the same topic lined up for this week on the Open Rights Group Zine, so keep an eye out.

13/08/2013
Leave our communities alone – Social Penguin

I work in digital marketing, but I’m fed up of marketers exploiting our online communities purely for sales.

Read my post over on the Social Penguin:

‘MARKETERS: Hands Off Our Communities!’

31/07/2013