excerpts from geert lovink interview on social media and education

Below are excerpts from Markus Palmén's recent interview with Netherlands-based writer Geert Lovink on the topic of "Social Media and Education." They're arranged as numbered bullet points, with boldface added for some phrases (sorry, these are my notes). It's refreshing to find a tech-savvy commentator who hasn't embraced the Stacks (see below).

1. I hope I do not disappoint if I say that social media (mainly Facebook and Twitter) have got nothing to do with education and learning. Social media provide people with ‘news’ and updates from their own social circles. They are huge distraction machines that create shareholder value through a very narrow corporate lens, dominated by US-American cultural values.

2. My advice would be to focus on the slow tools of knowledge production such as databases, archives, wikis and search engines. We need to un-hype social media, derail public conversations about them and focus on the incredible diversity of (collaborative) online tools that are already out there.

3. Inside the walled gardens of social media there is only real-time chatter (which is not even properly archived). You are right when you say that social media is important in people’s lives. After all, we’re social animals. The mood in the herd matters. Our peers and friends are vital, and so are family members, the people we work and play sports with. What we’re talking about here is education, learning, and how to organize that in the digital age. Which role are digital tools playing in the current setup? To limit that to social media is really annoying as these are noise generators, news pointers, dating sites, infotainment. That’s nice but makes me wonder why we are distracted. Why don’t we discuss ways of online learning, the politics of MOOCs [link added --tm], the current poverty of the online learning dashboards, the use of online video in the class rooms, the integration of videos in the next generation text books. We’re not talking about ‘alternatives to living in a digital world’. No one is advocating offline romanticism.

4. I am sorry to say that Web 2.0 no longer exists. The term came up in the aftermath of the dotcom crash when Silicon Valley had to forget the huge drama of the dotcom crash with its immense capital destruction and mass unemployment. The ‘blogosphere’, Second Life and early social networks such as Friendster, Hyves, Bibo, MySpace etc. were soon overrun by Google and Facebook. These days we speak of ‘the stacks’. This concept was introduced by Bruce Sterling in 2012. It adds up IT giants Amazon, Microsoft, Apple, Google and Facebook. It is indeed a conglomerate, known to make secret deals in Bay Area cafes where they set prices, discuss salary caps and take-overs. What unites these corporations is not just their wish to create monopolies (and eliminate markets) but also their inherent tendency to become invisible. Their aim is to colonize and administrate the techno unconscious. They do not want to be accountable. Let’s forget Google, that’s what they want. This is a very different strategy from all that’s being taught in PR and marketing classes. The general public should not openly talk about the stacks (that’s why Pando is doing such a great job)*. Their aim is to disappear in the background as quasi-public infrastructure. Venture capitalist Peter Thiel is their intellectual guru. He is the one who openly defends their status as monopolies and states that we should stop complaining. Leave our Valley alone!

*Tom here. Had somewhat given Bruce Sterling up for lost after his above-it-all response to the Manning/Wikipedia revelations a few years ago but this term the Stacks could be useful, for example, in identifying sites that have quit trying ("another Stacks-friendly article from Rhizome.org"). By contrast, Pando, which Lovink mentions, delves deeply into the rhizomatic root rot of the current Silicon Valley: the "techtopus" wage fixing scandal, governmental backing of TOR, Omidyar partnering with government, etc. Mark Ames and Yasha Levine brought their muckraking skills to Pando from The Exile by way of the short-lived NSFW Corp.; unfortunately most of their Pando writing is behind a paywall ($10 a month, $100 a year, but worth it, I think).

5. In the last two decades I have witnessed myself how weird[ly] we have responded to the rise of ‘new media’. After much hype most of the sensibility and core competence in society is again fading away. New media course[s] have closed down and most cultural initiatives and festival[s] have disappeared (at least least in the Netherlands).** Computers and smart phones withdraw in the background. The democratization of computing has not lead to a deeper understanding, quite the opposite. It is ironic that in Western society people knew more about computers and programming 15-20 years ago. Web 2.0 has greatly contributed to this loss of literacy. Frank Pasquale calls it the ‘black box society’ we’re living in. We are ruled by algorithms but have no say about them.

**Tom here, again. We're not talking about "new media" so much anymore in the U.S., either. Now it's social media, on the one hand, and a few crazed nuts using Linux computers and chatting over IRC, on the other. "Understanding one's phone" or "hacking Facebook" feel like ludicrous topics for artists at this point. New York has a substantial scene of "net artists" who mainly use Facebook exactly the way it is intended.

6. I’d wish to see a move away from the centralized, manipulative and limiting possibilities of Facebook and Twitter, moving towards ‘federated’ collaborative tools that do not address us as ‘friends’ who are forced to ‘like’ the shocking image of the young Kobani boy who is washed ashore to show our rage about the current migration policies and to show our solidarity with refugees. There are so many ways to engage in self-organization. Retweeting the news is a nonsense gesture. Being tactical these days is about setting up groups, contacting locals, and getting involved in unpopular struggles. Responding to the agenda of the world news manufacturers is not something for activists. We need to look ahead and define tomorrow’s agenda. I understand that this will not give us much satisfaction as it is pretty unpopular to put yourself in an avant-garde position. Being avant-garde is considered something for losers.

7. Tactical media is a historical term from the early-mid nineties that tried to capture that opening possibilities at the time, from camcorders, fax, public access television, free radio to email and the early web. This was combined with a decline of the traditional left and a rise of NGOs and a growing involvement in media activism of artists and designers. Hackers were also part of the gang. The diversity sketched here no longer exists. We do not feel we’re part of a ‘smart phone spring’. Digital technologies and the internet are now the default. There is hardly anything outside of it. Young artists these days are fascinated by old analogue technologies but usually they are without any audience. They are truly ‘sovereign’, in the Adilkno definition [link added --tm] of being on their own, broadcasting to themselves, very much unlike the selfie you post on Facebook that receives 428 likes in a few minutes. Tactical media these days resist the logic of instant self-gratification. The question what tactical use of our digital tools is today is a really interesting one. In my understanding we need to look for direct connections, beyond the broadcasting and networking metaphors. The answer is, most likely, not to be found in our visual culture, which is already so rich and abundant. In the 2015 refugee crisis in Europe we see that the most impact is made by those groups and individuals that manage to create direct solidarity links with the refugees and migrants. The peer-to-peer philosophy has a lot to offer to us in this respect. Our future lies in offline digital networks. As we all know, the internet is broken and we will not be able to fix it any time soon if the circumstances do not radically change. With the stacks in charge, it is inevitable that the collective imagination will leave the internet context and migrate elsewhere. The education sector needs to be aware of this tendency. Sooner than later, the digital will become boring, if not repressive. This will inevitably put the ‘distraction’ controversy in another light.

Tom here, last comment: In the heady days of the blogosphere, legacy hacker-artists bullying each other with quotes from Jurgen Habermas in the Rhizome comments seemed terribly boring. Now the pendulum has swung the other way, with calls to join (or rather, not opt out of) Facebook or be forever on the margins, like that's bad. While still Habermas-bludgeoning! We need some of that hacker consciousness back, preferably without the academyspeak.

lovink et al on instantly, publicly incubated creativity

Recommended: "On the Creative Question –- Nine Theses," by Geert Lovink, Sebastian Olma and Ned Rossiter, which tackles Uber-era concepts of sharing, "social," and what it means to be a radical innovator when creativity is institutionally neutralized:

Degraded to a commercial and political marketing tool, the semantic content of creativity has been reduced to an insipid spread of happy homogeneity – including the right amount of TED-styled fringe misfits and subcultures – that can be bureaucratically regulated and 'valorized.' To this rhetoric corresponds a catalogue of 'sectors' and 'clusters' labelled as creative industries: a radically disciplined and ordered subdomain of the economy, a domesticated creative commons where innovators and creatives harmoniously co-mingle and develop their auto-predictive disruptions of self-quantification, sharing and gamification. Conflict is anathema to the delicate sensibilities of personas trading in creative consultancy.

The authors question how much innovation can actually occur within the tight time frames of "template capitalism":

Maturation, which is creative growth, requires time. Don’t be afraid of the cycle. Who’s afraid of the longue durée? The time of creativity is that of idleness and procrastination, indeed otium [wikipedia link --ed]. This turns out to be the opposite of frantic entrepreneurship and instant valorization. This is why creative industries policy can only propose fixed formats and known concepts: template capitalism. Maker labs, with their standard 3D printers and software, can only produce more of the same. Open source is not the solution to this problem. Neither is it sufficient to place the wild, weird bohème at the helm.

What are some examples of this bureaucratically regulated art that emphasizes "frantic entrepeneurship and instant valorization"? The authors are light on specifics but let's throw out some NYC precedents: NEW INC's art/business incubator program, Rhizome's 7 on 7 artist-technologist partnerships where innovation happens in a single day, and Eyebeam fellowships calling for entries that are "provocative" and yet, "have positive real-world impact."

Slower time frames probably mean self-funding, i.e. "day job", although Lovink, et al, don't say that. Another alternative to incubation systems feeding creatives into the capitalist maw is the principled opt-out, or what the authors call "radical practice outside the stack." As a "key strategy for practices of anonymity and a commons beyond expropriation" they suggest "storage without a trace" including "USB libraries, blue-tooth networks, off-the-grid computing."

All well and good but the authors should be more explicit about what they mean by "high risk politics":

Taking ‘social innovation’ seriously means to think about the design of non-scalable communities, creative save-havens and post-digital makers. These are emphatically political challenges. Circumventing politics by way of social design is a dead-end. It repeats the technocratic mistakes that have lead to the incapacitation of politics in the first place. To regain efficacy requires a shift into high risk politics, a politics that has the guts to take decisions about our injured future.

Not sure what the prison system is like in the Netherlands (where this essay originates) but in America that's where real political risk lands you. Entering a nightmare beyond the imaginings of Burroughs and de Sade is a lot to ask of a "creative."

[edited after posting]

around the web

Three "long-form" posts that give you something to mull over:

Netherlands-based cyber-thinker Geert Lovink considers the state of theory after the Sn0wd3n m0m3nt. (Caution: arty not-safe-for-work photo from e-flux also graces the page.) This essay from April 2014 makes a nice (though more opaque) bookend to the talk by cybersecurity expert Dan Geer about opting-out. Lovink isn't saying we should opt out, precisely, but acknowledges a "God is dead" situation for new media types: after the years of accelerated transparency and sharing that were going to change everything we suddenly realized we had compiled a dossier on ourselves. So, now what?

Matt Stoller's piece on the censored 28 pages in the government's 9/11 report that possibly tell us about the involvement of U.S. "allies" in the attacks. If this information had been known years of pointless violence might have been avoided, etc. Stoller posted this on Medium, another startup content-suck.

Richard Prince reminisces about his days hanging out with Jeff Koons in late-'70s NYC. The item is dated 9/17/2014 and can currently be found at the top on this large wad of non-permalinked writing on Prince's personal website. Prince makes a good case for Koons' art, woven into a rambling autobiography. (hat tip sdb)

from the vault: computer non-insights into Pollock

Originally posted Sept 28, 2006 on my Digital Media Tree blog.

manetaspollock2low

Above is an image I created using a Flash "make your own Jackson Pollock" program created by Miltos Manetas. He didn't design the software, completely -- the code is from a downloadable web toy called "splatter" that he appropriated, customized to allow the application of multiple colors, and renamed "jacksonpollock.org." The idea is you can make drippy "Pollocks" by moving your mouse around.

image001

This is a screen shot from another make-your-own Pollock utility, currently on view at vertexList, by C.J. Yeh. Instead of cursor sweeps, you play notes on a keyboard, and Yeh's software translates the tune into Pollockesque colors and drip spacings. These "Pollocks" are more naturalistic than the output from Manetas' repurposed splatter device, reproducing canvas weave texture and avoiding the obnoxious secondary colors.

Pollock is a perennial target for computer geeks. Besides these DIY-Pollock programs (the former insider-ironically smartass, the latter insider-sincerely "deconstructive"), we were recently subjected to a barrage of hype about the computer science prof who could purportedly identify fake Pollocks by measuring drip sizes, fling rates, and so forth. And a few years before that, critic Pepe Karmel used computer analysis of Hans Namuth's studio photos of Pollocks-in-progress* to determine that beneath the convoluted abstraction lay images of the human figure, which Pollock "always drew first."

At the core of this all this computation -- cheeky, earnest, or pseudoscientific -- lies the assumption, essentially, that Pollock is stupid, and that his art, far from being the "difficult" thing art mavens have built careers defending, is really rather simple. See, you can do one. He's just another "brand." His dripping was so predictable that a machine can recognize it and simulate it. When you get past all the art-crit theory positing the work as "industrial," "oceanic," and "decentralizing," it turns out that deep down Pollock just loved people. In theory circles this is known as "recuperation." You'd have thought it would have happened already with Pollock, but apparently it's still ongoing. Is it possible that computer nerds (including computer nerd artists) are 40 years behind interior decorators? Or -- gasp -- that there's something about Pollock that's still getting under people's skin?

*see, e.g., Francis V. O'Connor, Ph.D. [dead link to AOL blog], writing about Karmel's analyis of Number 27, 1950:

Pollock began the work, as Karmel documents, at the bottom left corner of the narrow end of the long canvas, in the area just above where the present signature is, with a drawing in black paint of a large-headed, childlike, striding, humanoid figure. He then filled in the rest of the canvas with other humanoid and animal figures until he had an overall structure of line-drawings on the blank canvas. He used these forms to create a web of hubs radiating black lines, and then covered them with the colors and forms now visible on the surface, with a few of the black lines visible around the edges. It is these black forms around the periphery of the painting that now "work" when the painting is viewed as a vertical composition -- which it was to begin with. I suspect that Pollock thought of the whole enterprise in respect to the little figure with which he began it -- and that determined the greater coherence of the vertical composition. Since he also had a tendency to want to obscure recognizable images with which he probably identified (see Supplement to the JPCR, p. 79), he may have signed it near the figure to accomplish this. Whatever the unknowable inner motivations, the painting self-evidently works best as a vertical, and it ought to be hung that way at the Whitney from now on, along with Namuth's photo proving the precedent.

In fairness to geeks, the Karmel analysis only used a computer technician as a hired gun. The "search for the figure" beneath the paintings' actual stated (surface) premises had more to do with critical conservatism than geeky reduction. If Pollock had drawn an engorged penis before covering it up with abstract patterns, would that have made the work sexual? The point is, he covered it up. The "research" was spurious and ultimately soothing to bourgeois anxieties about art with "no subject." It's mentioned in this post because the computer -- which Karmel & Co. used to rectify canvases seen at odd angles in the photographs, the better to perceive those hidden stick men -- gave the enterprise a patina of scientific rationality.

Updated 6/30/19 to conform more closely to the original post.

The Cage is not the Menagerie

Alan N. Shapiro has written brilliantly on Star Trek's Captain Pike as an early traveler in virtual reality. Pike appears in the Hugo-winning two-part Original Series episode "The Menagerie": horribly disfigured and paralyzed in a spaceship mishap he returns to a planet where he had once been imprisoned as a zoo specimen by reality-shifting aliens. The Talosians want to groove on the violent and sexy adventures they pull out of his mind as they keep him prisoner for his entire mortal life. Earlier in his career they had deemed him too wild to be caged but now that his body is wrecked he chooses their form of escape, in order to give his mind the freest possible reign.
Fans know that "The Menagerie" cleverly remixed Gene Roddenberry's original series pilot "The Cage," wrapping the early Pike story inside a new one from his life after the tragic accident. "The Cage" is now viewable on Netflix and it's fascinating to compare how the wrapper story changes the narrative.
Let's consider "The Cage" from the point of view of Vina, a woman trapped by the Talosians prior to Pike's arrival on the planet. Her happy ending in "The Cage" differs greatly and I would say chillingly from the one she receives in "The Menagerie."
When Vina is a child her colony's spaceship crash-lands on Talos. Only she survives, mangled beyond recognition. The Talosians have never seen another living human so they put her back together very badly; she is a kind of Frankenstein's monster. In virtual reality, however, she is beautiful, and the Talosians kidnap Pike from the Enterprise hoping he will mate with her to give them more human playthings. Pike is kind of a brick, though, married to his ship and work, and he resists her charms in one proto-holodeck scenario after another. Vina thinks she sees glimmers of interest and is convinced he will eventually accept his confinement and come to love her.
The Talosians have no patience, however, and in one of the pilot's most jarring surprises they instantly beam into Pike's cell two female Enterprise crew members, both with unrequited love fantasies for him. Vina wails her jealousy and betrayal - Pike was hers. Instead of the Bacchanale the Talosians hoped for Pike gains confidence having his crew beside him (he's not attracted to the new women, either) and eventually finds a way to thwart the aliens.
At this point Pike learns Vina's true form, which we're shown in a slow Jekyll-into-Hyde transformation montage, and understands that she will not be leaving the planet with the Enterprise crew. In the creepy ending of "The Cage," she is once again made to look beautiful and is now joined by a completely fake but stunningly handsome Captain Pike, who will be her VR companion for the rest of her days. The Talosians give her a synthetic version of the love she couldn't achieve herself. The real Captain Pike doesn't seem to object to this double. (Nowadays we might ask - is it a software copy? How much did the Talosians record from the real Pike - everything? Is he alive?)
In "The Menagerie" the ending of "The Cage" becomes much more warm and fuzzy. When we see the happy, restored couple heading back to their underground vault we know Pike is Pike, he is there by choice, and Vina won him fair and square.

Update: Alan Shapiro compares "The Cage" and "The Menagerie" on his blog [link removed -- see below]. The link in the first paragraph above is to his first essay on Pike, from the 1990s. The blog post incorporates writing from the earlier essay.

More.

Update, June 2018: Shapiro appears to have taken down his Cage/Menagerie post. I removed the link to it.