Tuesday, June 19, 2018
I am writing to express my extreme concern about the proposed changes under Article 13 of the Copyright Directive, due to be voted on very shortly.
Having been involved in the internet and online innovation for over 20 years, and acting currently as Technical Director for a small UK company, I believe in several points:
1. That it is imperative to our economic and social resilience that innovation and communication remain free from burdens of overhead except where proved absolutely necessary
2. That the proposed legislation will increase the cost and risk of any new innovation, with broad, damaging effects to the development of society and discourse as a whole, at a time where we require appropriate innovation and resilience
3. That the legislation will increasingly push innovation and communication into unmonitored and unmonitorable networks, with the result that appropriate support and/or integration of such services will become harder, again to the detriment of an already-fragmented society
4. That the proposed legislation relies on technology that has distinct, specific drawbacks - namely that it encourages a more centralised digital ecosystem with increased risk of lower resilience as a result, and that there are insufficient safeguards to ensuring the technical solution can be monitored, audited, and maintained effectively.
5. That the legislation would introduce a lop-sided split between responsibilities, ie. it does not make sense to rely on a more centralised structure to provide the algorithms to implement the law, but push overall responsibilities on those parties not in charge of the algorithms, but would merely need to outsource this functionality, given the excessive cost of building such a filtering service from scratch.
In short, the Article threatens the business case of any small-to-medium business incorporating user input, threatens to upset innovation and conversation to the detriment of the economy and society generally, and risks a confused legal structure to discourage further innovation.
I urge you to vigourously vote against this legislation, and to address the underlying issues in a way that is more sustainable, technically feasible, and legally clear.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Street photography is scary. Sometimes for the confrontational, uninvited surveillance aspect of it. But mostly for the change in rhythm, the shift in attention that's so different from how we usually inhabit our concrete landscape.
Stand still, focus on something that's always there, something right in front of you, but linger with it, hold on to it. Wait for the right passer-by. Lurk like a teenager. Shoot like a voyeur. Street photography is best when it's scary - but what is this fear, where does it come from?
Most essentially, the urban environment doesn't like us to stop and look, or to consider anything in more depth than is intended. Our gaze is constantly diverted and channeled, like passengers wandering through Ikea or a theme park. There are things we're allowed to look at - adverts, street art, signs. But the crowd of distraction blocks out everything else. And the signs we're permitted to take in do not lend themselves to reflection or critique. "Take us at face value" they say. "Accept our message, and move on."
We spend our time flicking from one sign to the next, lost in a labyrinth of relevance. The street photographer breaks all this up, rebelling against the flow of this-not-that. The street photographer has two jobs, both of which can be described as dangerous purely because they do a violence against the accepted mode of navigation - and against our own position as a result.
First, the street photographer brings attention to that which is usually ignored. The signs which grew naturally, rather than being manually designed and manufactured into place. Empty facades, modern cracks filled with weeds, social mishaps, legacy movements, machines malfunctioning... There is a wabi-sabi kick here, a celebration of the chaos and decay that comes inherently with aging and existence. There is a beautiful humility in what our processes have allowed and encouraged to happen, even though it occurs against the urban designer's original will. A fragility of control, seeping into our consciousness from all angles, stark against all those ambitions and dreams of politicians, planners, architects and artists.
Second, the street photographer brings an extreme attention to the signs which like to think they're so smart and ephemeral. The instant impact of these signs is intended to communicate to us so efficiently - longer consideration is unjustifiable in a busy context; delay is dangerous, due simply to the scale at which everything - people, traffic, information - must flow as fast as possible, like cows in an abattoir. The urban watchword is "dispatch". Street photography's second dangerous act is to look beyond this continuous dismissal - to bring a sort of hyper-attention to these symbols and scratch beneath their surface. All signs have side effects, and it is only by observing their effects for a longer duration that we can know that these are. The photographer lingers, watching. The photograph itself, formed and framed, is an item of reflection - a single moment or view lingers in and of itself. Through this slowing down of time, we can more fully question what we would otherwise ignore.
Through the eyes of the street photographer, there is no chaos in urban normality. The city is controlled, the streets are prescribed. But it is not through deliberate destruction of the environment that photography changes our minds. Instead, the camera becomes a tool to disrupt our own behaviour - the act and at of seeing the world differently is enough to disrupt the rituals and the contract that we unconsciously find ourselves caught in.
Wednesday, June 06, 2018
Useful look back at how a local US group took on the local police surveillance happening against Occupy without much oversight. Great blend of crowd engagement, legal understanding, and careful negotiation for a long view solution.
LR: So they were throwing you a bone!
Friday, April 13, 2018
It's great to see more exploratory, low-pressure, simple mixed media, micro-blogging around. It's something I've noticed Adrian Hon doing too, just dragging in snippets and updates from the net as needed, and covering a mix of content as well as format.
Technologists always want to tell you that One Thing is going to be the Next Big Thing. The 'blogosphere' is as guilty as Facebook and the Gopher resurgents in trying to persuade us that we need to choose a single platform as The Go-To Place. But as input devices become move from chunky keyboards to pen tablets to screen-based guesses to digital cameras to always-on personal data, how much sense does it make to have a single platform for your own publication? Why can't - or rather, why wouldn't - I spit out content in as many different ways as I have t-shirts? Who's to say that anyone must be able to see every piece of content that comes out of my brain?
Perhaps the future of personal identity is not in curating what content we publish alongside our avatar and bio, but in creating a sense of mystery around ourselves, in alluding to what isn't obvious to our own readers, a la Poppy. This idea has certain overlap with an Empty Technology idea, one infused by wu wei and taoism. As Lao Tzu put it:
"The Sage must dress in coarse robes while hiding precious jewels within his breast"
Perhaps content should open doors that you cannot walk through, questions your cannot answer, hyperlinks you cannot click.
Sunday, April 01, 2018
Musk appears to me less inspired by Hitchhiker’s, and more a character discarded from early drafts of it
Anyway, good thoughts/questions on whether a global network forces states to go global too. Although shouldn't that have come a lot with the rise of Multinationals? Why the difference now? Because Code Is Borderless. For now.
I didn't realize how much I longed for a change of battleground until last week's Internet Law Works-in-Progress paper workshop, when for the first time I heard an approach that sounded like it might move the conversation beyond the crypto wars, the censorship battles, and the what-did-Facebook-do-to-our-democracy anguish. The paper was presented by Asaf Lubin, a Yale JSD candidate whose background includes a fellowship at Privacy International. In it, he suggested that while each of the many cases of international legal clash has been considered separately by the courts, the reality is that together they all form a pattern.
I wondering what the zeitgeist is now, what the overarching human emotion is, cos in among the headlines about data and privacy and political control, it's hard to think for yourself. Everyone just seems to go along with the mainstream social media app these days, and the counter culture is often just another app, destined to be either bought up or imitated by the same elites you're running from.
The battle for our connection media goes hand-in-hand with the trends of our art and literature - because our art and literature are simply a way for us to work out just what the hell is going on. Our culture reflects our confusion as the world changes around us. Except now our modes of production are all defined by the culture we're trying to figure out. Instagram filters, Snapchat filters, iPhone camera modes, emoji - all of these are artifacts we inherit, and - more importantly - that are constrained by the apps we use. You can't hack an emoji, or a filter. Or can you?
I asked on Twitter what literature might represent the current zeitgeist. James suggested a few:
> Early le carre? Gibson's modern day trilogy. Warren Ellis's novels. The Europe in winter trilogy
So going have to check a few of those out. Thinking about it myself, I'm leaning towards certain chaoticism - maybe Thomas Pynchon. Or maybe something more naively magical - Murakami, or Gabriel García Márquez. Or something darker and more fatalistic, along the lines of Margaret Attwood.
Reminder to myself: I need to read more novels.
As our culture becomes more and more co-created (as in, the memetic process of rapid online comms combines with faster and faster, more automated filtering and feedback loops), is there even "a zeitgeist" anymore? Or are we subjected to a thousand zeitgeists a day - or, more likely, two opposing zeitgeists that are purely emotionally defined by each other?
Or, to jot out a third way, will our tools - and thus our mediums, and our culture - allow us to see outside of that process, to something else?
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Start of spring but feels like Christmas. Taking some time off after Easter, which means wrapping up life in a few short days. Must be weird when you have to put your whole life in order. If a week's break forces a few priorities, I wonder what matters when you're heading into the final vacation.
It's been a long week, cognitively and emotionally, and I've only just noticed how shattered and drained I am as the dust settles. A good one, but a long one. I'm thinking about killing Twitter on my phone while I'm off, silence the noise. I wish there was a way to just have mentions and DMs, and not the chatter. Maybe I'll just reconfigure my client (I use Plume on Android) and remove all the timeline columns. Back pedal, to direct comms. For everything else, there's email and RSS. I don't get the same unprecedented fear of FOMO and babble from these. A saner network, somehow. Radiodroid for a background soundtrack.
Thursday, March 08, 2018
Linking to what I can only describe as Paul Raven's Ode to Blogging because
1. I am in so much of the same space in terms of audience and effort vs micro-attention
2. Blogging needs to reclaim its stake as a form of discourse and that this form has value, societally.
As such, 3. Sometimes, mere use of the medium - i.e. A blogpost instead of a tweet - is enough to keep the form of discourse alive, despite not necessarily having anything to add to the argument itself. The art of creating a blogpost is fundamentally different to that of shoving a tweet out into the world.
Meanwhile here is a picture.
Wednesday, February 07, 2018
"I hadn't wholly mapped out my talk, leaving a section open for improvisation and the whims of fate."
- Patti Smith, M Train
It's Wednesday night and we're recovering from the shock of a pale layer of snow this morning. There are times when being a parent has this background emotion, a kind of cross between nostalgia and hilarity, like your entire life so far has been a brilliant, joyous waste of time.
Anyway, I'm currently digging through M Train by Patti Smith, which called out to me in a tiny bookshop in Hastings, tucked away off the old town, lined with home made journals and notebooks. M Train lured me in with its insistent monochrome cover, dammit. I paid in cash because it felt right.
On page 64, Smith mentions her connection to William Burroughs and the Beat generation. Coincidentally (?), Burroughs also came up this morning (or was it yesterday? I don't do time anymore) in this conversation between Tim Leary and William Gibson, on the overlap with Neuromancer. I'm going to have to go back and read that, it's been far too long.
Among all this, I'm struck by a certain situatedness, a resonance with a particular point in history. Maybe that I'm an 80s child, that odd era filled with indulgence and never really questioned or relinquished.
It's weird talking to people 10 years younger than me now. I lent the film Hackers to someone at work (a fellow politically-minded developer) and he remarked that he couldn't really tell what technology in the film was "real" and what wasn't. The 90s were incredible, looking back, but my own field of vision, I realise, was guided by trying to make sense of the sheer surrealismof Thatcherism, of the indulgence of the 80s. And as the "cyber" (so big right now, but so life-cha(lle)nging back then!) kicked in, its edge-based, alternative populace brought with it all the counter culture of the previous generation.
There are layers of punk here. Punk isn't really the Sex Pistols and safety pins and hair and what the mainstream have come to perceive it as. It's always been about challenging, about presenting something different.
And so much of it has been captured and exploited and packaged and sold on, yeah. But a lot hasn't - a lot of those layers, from blues down to maker culture, have become embedded in our infrastructure, to the point we forget they're there.
As an 80s kid, it's my duty to resurrect that, to carry the message on and set out the next layer of punk maturing. Drugs and Cyber have been done, and Nostalgia is ready to get in the way and disrupt that regenerative process.
Fuck nostalgia. Build the Punk.
Friday, January 26, 2018
This uncontrolled, federated blogging scene (can I call it a scene? I like to think so, and sounds better than 'blogosphere') captures a lot of an ongoing trend to re-engage. But not necessarily re-engage with people - although people are part of it, really this is how we engage with content. Not just the content itself, but the whole shebang - the rationale and effort behind it, the short, sharp paragraphs, and the style that we muster as we hit the publish button.
(I see a similar trend with people moving to fucking gopher (and am, in fact, tempted to try it out) - there's a purity in text, and a pride in simplicity.)
Content has been through the wash - it's so lazy now, so convenient, and anyone that cares about what they read has had enough. Facebook and Twitter were never about the joy of content, just the quick fire weak connections - which is fine, so long as you you don't confuse connectionism with style. Mainstream 'content' is homogenous, like cheap chocolate. People are craving differentiation again. Personalisation.
Blogging has everything in common with fashion - both are brought together through a desire to fully express what one knows and feels. From punctuation styles, to awkwardly-hung CSS. We're all trying to find our voice out here in the wild.
Start a blog, or a newsletter, or a photocopied snail-mailout. Form sentences. Discover paragraphs. Write because you can.
(And send me a link when you do. My RSS feed reader hasn't crashed my Raspberry Pi yet.)
This week, there's news of a disco ball in space. Called the 'Humanity Star', this spinning shape is intended to encourage us all to "feel a connection to our place in it and think a little differently about their lives."
This isn't a new thing - NASA reported on at least one other cosmic disco ball, back in 2001. In a world where airspace has been mastered, and the individualist consumer drives the global economy, the idea of personal satellites seems inevitable, even if the effects of such won't be felt for another hundred years or more. (Update: IFTF played with this idea nine years ago too.)
At first I wondered if we urgently need more art projects like this, as the Doomsday Clock carries humanity closer to a long, dark night. Then I realised it's not art that is important here. Art is just a mirror. If we don't stop to look at it, then we won't see anything. No, maybe the saviour here is Disco all along.
Similarly, it was Disco that was chosen by the English Disco Lovers to fight back against the EDL. But even there, it wasn't deliberate. As the Wikipedia page quotes:
"I don't think any of us could say we were disco fans before, but as we've heard more and grown to understand the message, we've found ourselves identifying with it."
Did the (new) EDL just happen to choose Disco, or more ominously, did Disco choose them?
Disco. Discs, spinning through space, like our own little planet. Discovery, the revolutionary aspect of re-finding our own species. Disco-theque, Discovery Technology. What goes around comes around, and you might as well glam up.
WSATMFTCOTS (my own acronym) splits the Towner gallery's bottom floor into two - a dark side, and a light side. Despite the title, there's no interaction between the two spaces, and each acts according to its own devices.
Mirza intends to "trigger reflection and individual interpretation", which is good because that's how I tend to approach any gallery. He also draws heavily on circles, electricity, and a mix of near-natural structures and signs, and more modern manifestations.
I'm not going to offer any particular interpretation or judgement - firstly it's a personal thing, and secondly, it's an experiential thing. But hopefully the photos below offer some sort of personal reflection/curation of another's personal reflection/curation. I did enjoy it though.
Monday, January 01, 2018
In general, my general trend has been to retreat from corporate networks. It's clear that mainstream capitalist tech is primarily interested in acting in its own interests - users must benefit from progress in order for those interests to be advanced, but users are readily thrown under a truck when the time comes. I'm not happy with that. Neither should you be.
I've been running a Raspberry Pi as a home server for a while now - this is currently hosting an installation of tt-rss as my feed aggregator, and wallabag as a link collector, plus a few extra sites and scripts I've hacked together. For example, to avoid Facebook, one of these scripts monitors some Dropbox folders shared between the family, and emails us updates for photos and videos. It's a hack that keeps me in touch with "expected interactions" that capitalist tech has foisted on us.
The flipside of being in control of your own data is that you're in control of your data, and the systems that run it. That means spending a fair while updating OSes, making sure backups happen, fixing things, working out free SSL, and so on. It can be a full time job, and it's only been in the last 4-5 months that things have settled down a bit. There must be some really masochistic part of me that has kept these things going. (A second Pi runs DLNA and, more recently, file syncing as a Dropbox alternative, but still requires upkeep.)
In terms of third parties, I've started using some alternative sources and networks more fully. F-Droid has been great for discovering free, open-source software for Android. I've been hanging about on gnu/social more via my LoadAverage.org account, and recently signed up for the (slightly different?) Mastodon network via an SDF account. In fact, I've been having a lot of retro-fun signing up for SDF in the last couple of months, and may even move to Gopherspace. Deal with it.
I've also been blogging a lot more about my work, which has taken a lot of my writing energy - I've been writing more, but in a slightly more reflective but less creative way, I think. I don't know how to balance diarising with blogging yet, it's something I don't think I can feel at ease with however I do it, so long as I set myself standards beyond the capacity I have. Maybe I should just become a full time writer...
Anyway, so I feel like I've established a lot of foundations, even if there's not necessarily much to show for it. There aren't many new "public" "projects" per se - I have a few longer term photo projects in the background, but nothing grandiose to point to this year. In 2018, I'd like to move back towards open-source again (I used to run BSD and Linux as a matter of course, 15 years ago) and keep thinking about getting a decent laptop to run Linux on.
I want to spread myself across the internet, get back to the deep hills again. It feels like I'd be leaving friends behind, like Basho venturing out across Japan. Maybe some of them will accompany me, but otherwise I guess we'll always have IRL? So far though, it feels like getting off the mainstream is hard, and to do it en masse is even harder. How can we go on meaningful digital journeys when returning home is just a footstep away?
So it feels good at least - exciting, change is coming, something different is better than this old status quo.
See you out there in the wilderness somewhere.
2017 was a strange year. Strange for its normality. Like I was returning to a world I never recalled being in before, familiar but in a subconscious, subdermal way, not quite meeting my eyes.
I started out in a foreign zone, entering the year as an interim CEO for the first time in my life. It’s pretty amazing to inherit a company, but not something they teach you at school. Not that that matters much. It was a strange but exciting place to be, but on the whole - at the moment - a bit like my PhD experience. I’m proud to say I’ve been there and been able to do it. But my focuses are different. The timing is wrong.
But aside from that, work has formed a large 50% of my year, emotionally speaking. Stepping away from any “chief” role doesn’t imply you’re out of work. On the other hand, I think I achieved a lot this year - just none of it really planned or expected. (And not just me - we have a great team. but this is my blog, my story.)
We had to drag the company business model into a new version, and at the same time there were some hard, upsetting, joyous decisions to make and actions to take along the way. The team I’d assembled over the last few years fragmented a little - it was the first time I’d “lost” even one of my direct employees, let alone two. I’m simultaneously sad I couldn’t give them more and retain them, and proud of what they’ve achieved and what they’ll go onto become. We do what we can.
So as well as seeing my direct team through changes, I was also picking up product strategy still, and trying to guide projects (long and short term) through the dark hills to some kind of end point. A lot of my learning here has been about either drawing things to a point where it’s possible, and supporting projects through tough times where it’s not. The two ends of the spectrum are completely different, but maybe I’ve calibrated my project and product management skills as a result. We’ll see in 2018.
I’ve also picked up a hell of a lot about company admin - finances, laws, and so on. There’s so much here, I don’t know how anyone runs a company by themselves, to be honest. Main Lesson from 2017: It’s all about who you have on your side. The right people make the difference between success and failure. Sanity and madness. 2017 has been such a “people” year for me.
But we made it through, and all the hard work seems to be paying off. It’s only now, after Christmas, as advent nurses its hangover, that I can look back and really see how busy, stressful, productive it’s been.
And all the while, in the “background” (from a work perspective), the other 50% has been happening too - the “normal” life of a nuclear family.
It’s harder to write about this side though. While work has “goals”, “objectives”, “strategies”, “documents” and “project management systems”, family life has all the same needs, stresses, and relationships, but none of the structure or tools. It’s impossible to describe how jarring this is, how the juxtaposition - separated by just 40 minutes of travel time, subjected to the rhythm of routine - how it can addle your brain and take over your every presence.
I’ve started seeing a physio this year, because bits of me (mostly my right hand side) don’t work quite as well as they used to. But I know it’s because of an overall tiredness, a lack of energy that ribbons its way between neurons and tendons and literally broken dreams. If I was sensible, I’d parallel the physio appointments with therapy, or the closes I could get to a “mental physio”. I’m really, really glad I have a history of mindfulness and decent whisky. I don’t know how everyone else copes. Actually I do, we’re all on drugs.
Which is not to say I’m complaining about a hard life. I wouldn’t give it up or change it, for so many reasons. Seasoned parents never really talk about the good side of parenting for various reasons - too busy sorting out school lunches, it feels like you’re jinxing something, it’s more productive to bitch about the stuff that needs bitching about, and sometimes, TBH, there are just no words for how mad and joyous it can all get. Sometimes though, all you need is just a certain look on another parent’s face to know it’s all worth it, it’s not all in tired vain.
So 2017 has been about hospital trips and newly-established social circles and story-writing and impromptu music jams and daft Lego inventions and learning all the Pokemon and dens in the forest.
And mostly it’s been about stepping back and watching other people develop.
Which, if you can feel like you’re even slightly responsible for it, is the best feeling in the world.