internet

Angering Ourselves To Death - Postman's Brave New World Re-Re-Visited - Chapter 5

Chapter V: Angry Reacts Only – Harvesting Cash from the Media Ecology

The "old" Facebook like button, as it appeared in 2009.

“Researchers have found, for example, that the algorithms running social media platforms tend to show pictures of ex-lovers having fun. No, users don’t want to see such images. But, through trial and error, algorithms have discovered showing pictures of our exes having fun increases our engagement. We are drawn to click on those pictures and see what our exes are up to, and we’re more likely to do it if we’re jealous they’ve found a new partner. The algorithms don’t know why it works, and they don’t care. They’re only maximise whatever metric we’ve instructed them to pursue.” – Douglas Rushkoff, Team Human

In September 1993, Global Network Navigator (GNN), now a division of O’Reilly Media, sold the first ever clickable advertisement on the World Wide Web to a law firm based in Silicon Valley. By the late 1990s, during the dot com boom, internet advertising in the form of clickable icons or Graphics Interchange Files (GIF) that flashed enticements across the screen were ubiquitous.

Advertising alongside search engine results pages (SERPs) became the standard in October of 2000, when Google launched its AdWords service. Companies and brands would pay for sponsored links that appear at the top of search results, bidding for the top spot using automated algorithms. When a browser clicked on the ad, the company paid for the privilege – what’s known as a “Pay Per Click” advertisement (PPC.)

Advertising wares and services on a PPC basis might connect customers to products they may want or need, but this was hurting the revenue of the previous arbiter of advertising and commerce – newspapers and magazines. Newspapers could no longer rely on revenue from advertisers since many of them found cheaper and more effective alternatives online.

According to the Pew Research Centre, advertising revenue topped $49 billion (US) in 2004 – it now sits at about $18 billion US for all newspapers combined in the United States. By contrast, Google’s $110.8 billion in revenue derives mostly from Google AdWords, now Google Ads.

Newspapers had to adapt to the medium but also the media ecology at large. Newspapers that migrated online – and digital only start-ups alongside them – needed to realise that providing nuanced, balanced reporting was not the way of the future. To make real money, they needed people to get search engine results. Calls to action, not calls to thought.

The people reading their content needed to be as digital as the machines that host it.

All Positions Contested

The week through August 28th, 2014, major video games publications including The Escapist, Gamasutra, Kotaku, The Daily Beast, Vice, Destructoid, and even conventional masthead The Guardian proclaimed the identity or fandom of video gaming was toxic and rooted in a culture of homophobia, sexism, and racism. Appearing like a coordinated attack on the current state of gaming culture, this led to a small yet significant backlash against the games press known as #GamerGate, a hashtag calling for a restoration of ethical standards in video games journalism.

Proponents of #GamerGate were lambasted for conducting a relentless harassment campaign against critics of gamer culture, notably feminist and left-wing critics such as independent game developer Zoe Quinn; fellow developer Brianna Wu; and Anita Sarkeesian, host, and founder of not-for-profit feminist cultural studies organisation Feminist Frequency.

At the time, feminist writer Jessica Valenti commented, "the movement's much-mocked mantra, 'It's about ethics in journalism'" was seen by others as "a natural extension of sexist harassment and the fear of female encroachment on a traditionally male space." Sarkeesian and her adherents still contend that sexist “tropes” or elements in video games contribute to real world attitudes against women; though media theorists have long debunked notions that players of video games are more predisposed to violence, call it a “moral panic” in the wake of mass shootings.

In mid-September of that year, provocateur and then-Breitbart editor Milo Yiannopoulos published discussions from a closed mailing list known as GameJournoPros, which detailed the coordinated publishing of op-eds declaring “end of gamers”, mockery of certain developers, and presented this as evidence of collusion in the gaming press.

Much like the President Bush declaration – “You are with us or you are with the terrorists,” the video games press declared you are either a toxic “gamer”, or part of the new vanguard of “woke” identitarian games consumption, which favoured left-wing ideological bias in place of “conservative” ideas. The culture war sorted itself into binary groups, choosing a digital battlefield and leading a charge to preserve or change a purely digital media ecology.

Both sides were using the medium as mass-surveillance to eke out their fronts, fire salvos in each other’s direction, and gin up support for their cause. Fitting that their respective “causes” were video games, as social media uses gamification to ensure people use it and keep using it; “rewards and incentive systems determine usage,” as Israeli-Macedonian psychologist Sam Vaknin describes it.

140 Characters Hate

Vaknin says that the truncated nature of communication in social networks is more conducive to hateful responses; it only takes a few words to express hatred, e.g., “go to hell! Fuck you!” Where as love and compassion would require many more words to convey: perhaps an order of magnitude larger, such as a letter or a “real world” gesture lest it feel insincere.

Orwell in his prescient “two minutes hate” – a spontaneous eruption of malice toward Party enemies in Oceania – may mirror this assessment. A continuous “twenty minutes” hate would lose steam before long; it could even give rise to the realisation their hate is manufactured, and they are indeed being manipulated.

Vaknin also describes that the social media/mass surveillance circuit is built on ambiguity, the fear of the other. “The only way to disambiguate something is to get to know it,” he says. Intimacy, he also says, reduces the need for addiction and dependency.

Former Facebook engineers have admitted that the medium was built around “continuous partial attention,” as Justin Rosenstein – inventor of the “like” button - described to The Guardian. Nir Eyal, author of Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Product says mass surveillance media exploits “feelings of boredom, loneliness, frustration, confusion and indecisiveness often instigate a slight pain or irritation and prompt an almost instantaneous and often mindless action to quell the negative sensation.”

Rolled out in February 2009, replacing the star rating and “awesome” button, the “like” button gives users a temporary and fleeting serotonin boost – the neurotransmitter responsible for reward pathways – and allows Facebook and partners to track user behaviour and preferences for later advertising and remarketing efforts. The like button is also ambiguous; does “liking” a post that describes a user’s misfortune mean they are revelling in their misery? Providing sympathy? Simply showing they have read and understood the message?

This ambiguity paired with gamification gives rise to a media ecology that conditions users to stay on the system. Ambiguity is also biased towards amygdala, “lizard brain” reactions of hatred, upset, outrage, and terror. More nuanced or reasoned content would be of no value to the medium, as it encourages neocortical, higher-brain reasoning and analysis. It also requires full, instead of partial, attention. As mentioned earlier, a sustained “twenty minutes hate” would not work as the hatred would (presumably) give way to self-reflection.

Vaknin says that suicide rates among youth in the last decade have jumped 31%, thanks to social media’s bias toward anxiety and depression-causing content. Harvesting the cash from this media ecology is achieved through constant “reward” activation and treating real human intimacy as a threat.

It’s working – as Facebook generated $55 billion in advertising revenue in 2018. That’s $37 billion more than the intimate, unambiguous, nuanced, and reasoned reporting from all US newspapers combined.

If one’s life is mediated through Facebook and other mass surveillance media, the conditioning to be harvested for cash is almost limitless.

Spotify: The new/old musical counter-revolution

I got two packages in the mail - a vinyl record and a compact disc. All on the day that Australian music lovers would point their fingers and laugh at my stubborn luddism. Hadn't I heard? Spotify had finally launched Down Under! I could now stream any song I wanted from a pool of over sixteen million tracks filled by virtually all the major labels and independents, sailing across it with a totally "new" musical model.

As many pundits would have you believe the Spotify "revolution" isn't one at all - it's not the Red Army storming the Winter Palace and declaring peace, bread and land for the people. It's akin to a bound and gagged family Romanov inexplicably sprouting laser turrets from their heads. Envigorated, they'd command the ghosts of Cossacks to rise from their graves and mercilessly hound Trotsky and his troops back toward the Ukraine. Spotify is a musical counter-revolution aiming to quash the orgiastic "free" producer/consumer-led music rebellion once and for all.

It’s so deliciously evil it beats life back into Monty Burns’ desiccated heart and has him whistling Dixie and calling Mater. (Ahoy-hoy?) Here’s why.

The digital arms race
Ever since the dawn of recorded music, the industry at large kept its eye on one prize. That is, controlling the content, the media and its distribution.[1] When gramophone records first appeared it wasn’t uncommon to see music on vinyl sold via totally vertical integration: ownership from top to bottom from producer of the content to the point of purchase by the consumer. (Case and point: HMV or “His Master’s Voice.”) The Compact Disc was a shift toward higher-fidelity media and lower overall manufacturing costs per unit.

The CD was jointly developed by Sony and Philips in the late-70s. CDs as a format gained consumer acceptance in the late-80s when an economy of scale was established. Together, Sony and Philips paid for the research & development, marketing and manufacturing of both Compact Discs and the machines that would play them. Like all good R&D, they could on-license the technology to other companies. It’s a no brainer – Sony and Philips were (and still are, to some extent!) multinational music labels possessing vast back catalogues and new talent primed for polymer pressing, proving positively pilfer-proof (until the late 1990s, as we all know.)

But what to do! In the yawning sunrise of 2000 AD, the medium of playback and distribution went spectacularly rogue. A stylized cat harvested innards of beige boxes, enabled by squeaky telephone wires. The pirates, once thought of as guerillas with nothing better to do than trade tapes around and occasionally burn a CD for a few bucks a pop were now legion, moving torrents (oh I love this water analogy) of (almost!) intangible data across networks without proper authorization from intellectual property holders. The content was there, like it had been since Tin Pan Alley and even centuries before 'round the campfire. Yet the stranglehold on media and distribution methods slipped the grasp of the industry virtually overnight. It felt like no amount of speech impeded Danes with expensive lawyers could ever halt their revolutionary advance.

Commodification ala mode and a cup of tea
So what now? Do record companies under the aegis of RIAA and their cronies hunt down pirates and strong-arm them back toward their sanctioned tripartite model of music consumption? Or do they spend more money than they’re prepared to on R&D creating a new medium and a new distribution method?

The iTunes model seemed “revolutionary” at the time – you know, telling people to pay for something they could get illegally for free – lest the counter-revolutionary martinets bound in and lay down the(ir) law. It was a step forward from CDs, sure. Slapping all DRM in the world on to files still meant people "got" something.  “Our content was never yours to begin with and now we’re keeping it,” they bellowed.

And lo, Spotify and its ilk emerged.

Record companies own the content. That's a given. The clever rub lies thus: remove the medium and utilize an established distribution network, which in its present broadband form has existed about fifteen years. Spotify etc. seek to change the concept or perception of content ownership back to an near pre-technological state much like in the age of travelling band shows of yore. Yes, you may hear the music but you can no longer hold it in your hands.

By removing the physical or even the illusion of physicality (files on a hard drive), the medium and the distribution is in a state of simultaneous allness and nothingness; it’s always “on” yet you can never “have” the music. It's "your" song when you choose it - like out of a jukebox - but once the last note decays, so is your claim over it (not that you really had one in the first place). You can “search” the (not your) collection but it’s never “yours” – they’re the gatekeepers and you pay for them to lower the drawbridge. Once inside their opaque vaults, they're able track your playing habits to sell you more of what you already want. Then you're their billboard as they publish every guilty play of Pat Benatar to your friends on Facebook. It’s like the IKEA of promotion – IKEA keep their prices low because they outsource the construction of the product to you. Now Spotify have got you to do their marketing for them, too.

If budding content producers are paid a pitiful commission, more so the better in the eyes of the industry. By melding (or abnegating) the medium, they’ve lowered the price of music and also its value. If Spotify spends the same amount of money paying for the rights to the new Gotye record (quelle horreur) and the entire back catalogue of Darkthrone, per se, then what is the differential of worth between the two? There is none. The only savvy trick the labels can pull is restricting the “supply” of Gotye (or someone just as horrible and popular) but that would distort the market and their profit margins (in this new medium-lite model). Make everything on offer the same (pre-paid) price per click, throw in some ads and the money rolls in regardless. Not much for those who wish to furnish Spotify with music, but big payoffs for those who control mammoth oceans - not paper cups full - of content.

But what really fucking burns my potatoes is that Spotify is the closest thing we have to the real pop music experience. Richard Meltzer in his inquiry/parody of the Aesthetics of Rock posited that rock and pop music is the act of making the mundane interesting and exciting. Shit, if you can make money off it, more so the better.

Spotify is accessible on a desktop computer which you more than likely stare into each day to earn those dollars to pay for, well, Spotify. For the fraction of a second your consciousness wanders toward the sublime tongue of rock and pop in all its tinned ferocity on your shitty laptop speakers, the music industry suits have not only breathed a sigh of relief, their tar-stained cackles can be heard from a blue million miles...

Like I said, it’s pure evil fucking genius.

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1: Jones, S. Rock Formation: Music, Technology and Mass Communication, Sage Publications: Newbury Park, CA, 1992 p. 185.

The three hour layover on the way to digital journalism

Attending the A.N. Smith lecture in Journalism at Melbourne University last night, Fairfax Media Chief executive and General Manager Greg Hywood outlined the digital media strategy for Fairfax in a "post-classified ad" revenue present and of course, future. Apart from the oh-so humble reminders that the Age and Sydney Morning Herald embraced the internet long before their competitors, his subtle investor pitch demonstrating the media convergence that Fairfax employs to derive its revenue was finally indicative of a media ecological approach to journalism and content communication across a mass yet still fragmented (in terms of point of access) audience. Print in the morning, smartphones on the go and accessing the web during the day, etc.

Mr. Hywood made a salient point in terms of devising a business model to ensure not only survival, but growth in quality journalism and content creation. Leaving the privileged curatorship vs. citizen engagement debate aside; he struck at the core of the problem for lumbering giants resistant to changes in their once robust classified ad "rivers of gold." The journalism, he said, was a solution to the fundamental problem of people trying to "make sense of the world around them." The media can no longer sit idle and react to changes in the consumption of their products, they must now find "solutions" in the skein of Postman and the Media Ecologists.

For example, Neil Postman only months prior to his passing remarked in a lecture that an airline wished to spend a substantial sum to improve the speed of their aeroplanes. Researchers found that they could cut at least three hours from the Los Angeles to New York trip utilizing new engine technologies. But then engineers wondered; what did passengers do with their three hour surplus of time?

Go back to their hotels and watch television.

Thus money was saved by installing televisions into the backs of their seats - the solution was much more ingenious than attempting to appeal to the abstraction of "progress." Just like News Ltd. recognizing that the medium in the afternoon was in fact the train platform and bus and tailored its message accordingly in the form of free, portable and "light" newspapers that can be read while waiting to arrive at one's destination.

Just because journalism can be uploaded and broadcast to smartphones and tablets doesn't mean it always, in every case should; if the problem is not knowing when or where rock gigs are and the solution is a weekly street press to guide you, why force change when it isn't required? Perhaps pondering this question will write the next chapter of journalism; whether in print or online or something unheard of.