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Supplementary to yesterday’s rather dour post on the media implications of US foreign policy jostling: Reza Aslan’s How to Win a Cosmic War.

Globalization and especially the power of the Internet, Aslan explains, have enabled alienated Muslim youth in the Middle East and Europe to find a collective identity through religious symbols. Rather than go through the years of study necessary to join established religious institutions, jihadism is a kind of short cut. But having joined this movement, what makes some decide to join the ranks of mass murderers while others just cheer from the sidelines? Aslan doesn’t offer a convincing answer. –via Jamie Rubin

Yesterday I thought about raising the question of whether actual, suicidal violence isn’t the most extreme form of a turning inwards: an intolerance, growing into an inability, to listen to or even encounter alternative points of view. Put another way, take ‘extroverted’ haters, who troll ideologically-opposing discussion sites and who attempt, at some level at least, to engage with the ‘wrong-headed’. Even if only in terms of designing abuse to provoke a reaction. Are these, who encounter opposition at the ‘battle line’, less likely to commit acts of violence than people who get their ‘news’ strictly from the World’s End presses, the ideologue or the online pulpit, who burrow themselves into recursions of confirmation and vindication?

I think maybe. I think that debate, however broad you stretch the term, is always better than staying within a system which sees enemies as totally ‘other’, and which tries to construct all ‘others’ as uniformly ‘enemy’. I think that might be part of a wider definition of ‘asymmetric warfare’.

But who knows? Probably the middle-class 18-25 year olds in Wahabism’s key demo are well informed and sincerely disgusted by the depredations of the world around them. Certainly American Christian exretmism couldn’t be characterised as ignorant of the world, though one might argue they are either attuned or taught to see everything through certain specific blinders.

Put it in the terms of a con: is the clincher in the pitch, or is it in the mark himself?

[straying dangerously close to Darrow Defense territory here]

Maybe the difference is where ideological recruits aren’t taught to debate or challenge, since the evil is portrayed as being in blood so far stepped that argument becomes pointless.

HG Wells believed that education would sooner or later raise everyone to the same moral level. I’m not ready to rule that out just yet, at least for most of the people, most of the time. But I am certain that information is not education. The way you receive your information can force or encourage you to see it in a certain way, but the medium is not inherently good or bad. Much as I hate to admit it, growing up accustomed to free online information distribution isn’t the same as education; it’s a form of conditioning, one that’s likely to provoke resistance as well as enlightenment.

Back to the thesis again: the web isn’t an inherently radicalising medium, nor even an inherently polarising medium. It is, however, an effective fetishizing medium.

Enough of the moral stuff. Tomorrow: back to killer apps.

if you like something you shouldn’t put a wig on it

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Apologies for the hiatus, a twitter obsession and a couple of weeks back in the UK got in the way. Mea Culpa.

Twitter: Beating that horse till it shines.

Twitter: Beating that horse like it’s going out of style.

I was thinking today about the informal lunches at the reuters Institute for Journalism which I went to in my last Uni year. I was invariably the youngest there by ten years and never understood why no other undergrads went and spent forty minutes eating free sandwiches and thinking up one half-intelligent question like I did.

During one discussion an American wire journalist, after being eagerly pressed on the subject, admitted that she knew of a story about one of the ’08 Democratic candidates that was being sat on by agencies, and that would probably come out after the nomination. At another one the speaker, a regrettably unedited Mail on Sunday columnist, mentioned with the air of a soused conjuror that he knew a big story involving one of the Royals, which would come out in the next four to six months.

It seems likely (so far) that the American story was Edwards’ affair, which barely lasted two tittilated news cycles after being masterfully massaged in between two bigger stories. The Royal one, it’s obvious in hindsight, was Prince Harry’s service in Afghanistan which I’ve written about repeatedly and with which I began my bloody thesis (which I am going to take out and bury when I get back to the UK).

p

The first time I realised what the stories had been it felt weird, that I’d been sat so close to someone who had such a secret, like I’d walked by someone with a curse or a gleam upon them. It wasn’t just the secret, but the fact that they had taken the soldierly decision to respect their bosses’ decisions to hold the story, and trusted in their fellow professionals worldwide to make the same decision and not to seek to profit individually. Until Drudge kicked that in the paint; then all bets were off.

I’ve been interested in this notion of political secret-keeping since: it has arguments either way in terms of profitability and especially in terms of where journalists’ Duty lies.

But a while ago I said, with a confidence I don’t think is totally unreasonable, that those arguments are moot. Nothing the size of the Harry story could ever be sat on again, and governments would know it. Put simply, journalists simply wouldn’t trust each other, or at least not their lusty, Self-Promotion Generation citizen journo colleagues, one of whom, sooner or later, is going to get invited into the Clubroom.

In a sense, secrets being so difficult to keep nowadays might make things simpler all round, and a story today may reflect that: I twittered this Beast article on US General Anthony Zinni’s remarks on “The end of war as we know it”.

The General focused on preparing the armed forces for a future of largely non-military activities as part of long-term occupations of failed states. Intervention in failed states has been the norm of NATO warfare since the early nineties, but the American armed forces are probably least optimized for it:

“When we touch something, we own it,” Zinni said, taking Colin Powell’s quote, ‘When we break something, we own it,’ one step further. “And when we own it, we can’t help rebuilding it in our own image. That’s the American way. But we’re not good at it and we can’t afford it.” –via Phillip Knightley

What has this to do with Prince Harry, media, or eating townspeople for that matter? Nothing much. But the subtext of Zinni’s comments was to begin the process of preparing Americans for wars with no victory scenario, for Forever Wars, an effort I find strangely heartening.

I’ve been reading William Safire’s superb book on the Nixon Administration, Before the Fall, and Safire’s disappointed, relentlessly even-handed admiration will carry you along with it, especially in his description of Nixon’s attempts to extricate the country from Vietnam “with Honor” and without the expected victory.

The Kissinger negotiations to end the war with the VC leadership were conducted under neurotic secrecy, an atmosphere which Safire sees as an early stage of the Watergate mentality. That need for secrecy involves a paradox: when negotiating with totalitarian regimes it’s best to assume they are reading the major newspapers your citizens publish. But you believe the regime to be ideologically too torpid to see the free policy discussion in your press as anything but a sign of weakness in the executive.

Therefore you have to stonewall or kill stories about the negotiations to make it look like you can run a tight ship, in order to deal with people who wouldn’t respect the captain of a pleasure cruise. Meanwhile of course you feel they, the enemy, reading your morning papers over your shoulder, in which thousands of column inches decry you as a warmonger who is making no effort to arrest the war and is pursuing an illusory victory.

Safire fairly points out that even if the negotiations with the VC had been made public it probably wouldn’t have stopped counterculture’s growth and self-determination as a besieging force around the White House.

But it may have stalled the cycle whereby the Nixon administration believed it needed to conceal the fact of negotiations from its own people in order to retain bargaining credibility with practiced propagandists, when at the same time it regularly publicly characterised its own outspoken press not by their obvious, easily-understood animosity to the President but with the far more serious, inaccurate and patently impotent charge of unpatriotism.

p

So what business do I have talking about all this? The North Vietnamese leadership in the early ’70s probably had plenty of reasons to wish the negotiations kept secret on their end, which the American delegation had an obligation to respect.  But it’s where the Administration routinely mistook the need for confidentiality for disloyalty and pro-Communism among the press that their logic failed them, coloured by an outrage at being Shown Up in front of the Enemy. Branding their outspoken opponents as ‘unpatriotic’ undermined the ideal the government were supposed to be fighting for, and undermined their own propaganda in Vietnam by forgetting to respect America’s own freedom. The Nixon administration looked like a bitter, impotent Totalitarian regime instead of a capable, negotiated Democratic regime.

vietnam iraq propaganda poster

And that, tortuously, gets us back to Gen. Zinni and UK media, my actual, albeit self-appointed, expertise. As a preamble to his discussion of future war Zinni confidently asserted

“that there had already been backroom talks between the U.S. and the Taliban—“like Kissinger’s with the North Vietnamese”—and predicted that these would lead to formal negotiations by the end of the year.”

I had mixed reactions on first reading: if they are ‘backroom talks’, then surely mentioning them is bad, right? With his easy confidence of a settlement “with Honour”, is the General going off the reservation to reassure Americans while jeopardising American attempts to build a bargaining position with the Taliban?

I thought about fugitive terrorists in caves in North West Pakistan unfolding their New York Times and gaining- in Nixon’s acrid phrase- “aid and comfort” from the speculation of a General and the press responding to an obvious public need for any hope of a settlement.

p

But then I remembered that terrorist cells are hardly likely to get their news from print. They will get it online, where it would be difficult to miss the hopes of thousands for unilateral withdrawal, the hopes of different thousands for more destruction. The hopes of millions for peace. Online, where it would be difficult for any government or military to suppress months of press rumours about backroom negotiations with the Taliban.

Maybe, just maybe, what Gen. Zinni’s comments show, if not a moment of dementia, is the beginnings of an easing of message control at all levels of American government. An institutional understanding that the modern newsreader is better equipped than she has ever been to doubt what she reads, to research elsewhere, to follow up with in depth reading, and theoretically, to make her own decision and communicate it to others.

Of course, when we’re talking about terrorists’ reading habits, it would be foolish to ignore the opposite argument: that some, if not all readers, presented with the wealth of varying testimony and speculation online, will self-polarise by only consuming news which confirms their opinions. cf. the growth of the Huffington Post.

Ah yes, the Sunstein Argument once again (who I will also one day bury).

p

And after all, maybe the story about the Democratic candidate hasn’t even come out yet, and it’s huge and is going to destroy the government when it does. Maybe I entirely mistake the capacity of the government and press institutions to keep secrets.

But at least now we know, and governments should also know, that having one of your citizens call your Chief Executive a monkey or a nigger or a fascist on the internet is nothing to be ashamed of. That the enemies you’re trying to impress will every day read the two “sides” of your press call each other butchers and traitors, and present the same story in exactly opposite ways, and still nobody gets strung up for any of it. And the government still doesn’t fall. And sooner or later, that will come to see your country’s greatest asset as a strength, not a weakness.

And finally, those enemies will be finding it harder and harder to keep secrets from their people and to suppress even simple discussion online. Not only will they sympathise with your inability to keep secrets from your own people, they will hopefully come to admire it.

The internet makes a lot of things moot, and in doing so it can make things a lot simpler. By sheer weight of greed and numbers the keeping of ‘public secrets’ is moot. And the issue of whether you appear to be in command of discourse in your country is moot, in the sense that it only matters to totalitarians and the obsolete.

Here’s hoping.

the added advantage of being true

ridley scott forever war joe halderman concept art

New post up at If it has a name know it: The Forever War, G20 and other guttering splutterings.

I and @iduncan have made the agonising decision to wait for the Japanese cinema release rather than getting the movie by other means. So long as we don’t snap and download it before then.

Dann sind wir Helden

It was inevitable really: I am now on Twitter. As an ID “AboutThisLater” is just the most salient expressions of frustration at twitter’s systemic brevity, to which I have yet to adapt my mode of thinking. But it just about sums things up: the Twitter feed is part of my balooning interest in the way people talk and how they will remember it.

Credit goes to @castophrenia, and to Gonzo wine vlogger @garyvee for his unshakeable, old-school swagger in comparing modern Social Media professionals who are developing the instinct for personal branding with mid-eighties breakout rap and hip-hop acts like the Beasties.

In his honour, and in celebration of getting yesterday’s raise paid in I went round Daimyo and bought coats, and also finally got around to picking up some Japanese maltbase blend whiskey. About to livetweet the tasting, hopefully with a minimum of pretension.

My first ever tweet, for posterity’s sake:

Man knows so little of his fellows.In his eyes all men act upon what he believes would motivate him if he were mad enough to do what they do.      –Faulkner, from Light in August.

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Also, in honour of the British Press’s current hysteria over social networking robbing young people of personal contact, I reproduce a pitch/short fiction I wrote a while ago. Essentially it’s part of my budding argument that on top of brute-force codebreaking, ARGs which want to remain relevant or just do something new should start crafting experiences based around roleplaying, communication.

It won’t appeal to everyone, just as code puzzle-solving won’t. But the guy who has to write an email and sound like an insider, or take a phone call and convince as a member of an anarchist terror cell in order to avert a tragedy… that’s a Unique Experience theat money will never buy. It really doesn’t matter how competent a role-player they are, just that it’s a nerve-wracking experience.

Thus:

Re: one last favour.

Player 1 watches the man in the ball cap. No-one else has approached
him in the five minutes the player has spent skirting the scene,
eyeing the crowds. There’s still more than twenty minutes on the
clock. The man in the ball cap glances frequently at his watch, but he
doesn’t fidget, stares flatly at the tour groups taking pictures
about him. A pro.
All the same, his stillness would mark him out amongst the tourists
even if the description in the email hadn’t been so specific. Dark
clothes and hat even in the heavy sunshine. Bulky backpack. Alone at
Boudiccea’s southwest corner, Thursday, from noon to half past. The
last contingency plan.
Player one will approach, purposefully from the front, hands free at
his sides, heart pounding. Unthreatening. Nothing sudden. The contact
will acknowledge him, will wordlessly offer him a cigarette from a
packet. The player will refuse, speaking only the keywords. Again, the
email is very specific.
“It’s a little early, don’t you think?”
Ball cap stares stonily at him for lengthening seconds. The player’s
palms sting, his lips darken, his face calm. Ball cap speaks.
“You’re certain?”
This part wasn’t in the email. The player jerks a nod, snatches at a
phrase remembered from the last week.
“Uh huh. You’re compromised at every level.”
Ball cap‘s eyes widen.
“It’s all off. You’d better go to ground. It’s all gone helter-skelter
out there.” Another alien phrase, like something overheard in another
language.
Ball cap nods decisively, glances almost wistfully around at the
square, the choiring of families, the percussions of children losing
themselves. Finally he sticks out a hand. The player takes it, toes
prickling with relief, when ball cap pulls him in for a sudden
embrace, wooden and jarring.
“I’ve been in deep for years,” he says fiercely into the player’s ear.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen an initiate. Someone who can be trusted, who knows.” The player clamps his teeth, fighting down the urge to stiffen, suppressing repulsion. Ball cap releases, visibly embarrassed.

“Wish it was under better circumstances. It’s just… nice to know there are true believers out there after all.” He finishes in a rush. The player nods, lips tight. The contact adjusts his bag.

“You’d better split. I’ll give it a few to divide pursuit, then disappear. Again.”. He fixes the player.

“Make sure you’re not followed.”

The player nods stiffly a last time, turns and marches away, claves bounding with tension. He hears ball cap shout after him, “good luck!”. He ignores it. It’s time to get back to the office. There are still other bombs around the city, but nothing to be done. Not his responsibility. He has stopped all that could be stopped. The job is over.

Tomorrow the fact that there will be no news in London will be his
nod. His silent heroism, unrecorded and unavowed. Non-event will have
become event. The alternate reality will last for as long as the
player does, long after the game is over. And for the next few days,
without willing it, he will find himself glancing over his shoulder.

Player 2 has been watching the strange exchange. Another contact,
maybe? As the new face walks away, the man in the ball cap takes out
his phone and types a text. That’s the signal. Player 2 takes a deep
breath, adjusts his bag.
Going to an unknown number somewhere in the city, the text is just one
digit long.
‘1’
Send.

All credit to @castophrenia, my love.

p

—————————————————

Transcribing my interview with stony, mottled Union leader Chris for the Community Action feature I’m working on. He reminded me powerfully of my friend Pat. I miss him.

“… you know the JET program?”

“Yeah. they make quite a lot of money.”

“well, quite a lot…”

“Well, they make more money than me!”

“Oh, I know. I’ve known everyone who’s worked for this magazine. You’re worked hard and not given all that much, right?”

“Well, I’m reasonably happy. I’ve just had a raise… Maybe I’m just misinformed… but I’m happy.”

“Well that’s the important thing.”

JETs make about 30 man/month (1 man=10,000 Yen. =around £50 when I left Britain in Sept ’08. God knows now). Non-JET ALTS make around 22 man. With my raise I now make 9.2 man. It’s an arbeito, a part-time job. But then I am still up working, and it’s just gone midnight. But then, I don’t have to pay rent. And I am happy.

are we nearly retro yet?

PS My wage doubled today, retroactive for this month, and I got to talk about the internet for an hour. Score.

nobody scores facelessbook beer celebration

we’ll talk about this later

Ad Hock

Had an interview with a London Social Media firm, think it went okay. I decided to come clean about not using RSS much, in part because of habit/usability, in part because my current machine is an increasingly fragile, benzine-smelling, juice-stained paving slab-in-waiting. I probably should have talked a little less, and probably should have been a little less concerned with IP rights. Ah well.

Reading around for it took me to some interesting places; returning to Rageboy for the first time in months led me to Twitter critiquer the certifiable Marcus Brown:

(Blacked out in deference to Stephen Fry: the normal format is Brown talking to camera while sitting on the toilet in his tiny Munich bathroom.)

One of the most interesting things about the process of making a Twitter feed for the publication I work for is that I have to document and codify the grammar, conventions, courtesies and allusions of Twitter. Brown may sound mad as a stoat but his manic-laconic approach is enlightening and wonderfully well read. “I beg you. I plead. Follow him.”

p

I’ve had the recent Kanye West singles on YouTube loop, thinking about how his singles and Flight of the Conchords got me through my final exams. It got me to thinking about the sort of role model Kanye so well represents: Sensitive and unabashedly talented; relishing his position in an economy where women benefit briefly and peripherally from his attention; yet like Jay-Z overridingly obsessed with his fulfilment of the Provider role. Tribal; caught schizotically between bandit chief and aging chieftan.

I don’t see why I need a stylist

When I shop so much I can speak Italian

What kind of person does he sell to?

Me, apparently. Sometimes his schtick is too much, sometimes his indulgences are truly charming, like the glossy but hardly focus-grouped video for Champion.

p

Also, started writing notes for a project, currently called Hock, for a simple lock-screensaver which allows limited access for self-naming users to cue up elements like songs, videos or photo albums selected with a limited browser; an integrated MC program essentially, designed for passive-display participatory entertainment at parties/events of all size. Skin your party, and allow users to show off their stuff and post publicly. Needs to be written as a pitch.

p

Also, this:

Now there’s a sex symbol for you. Compare Blogosphere and Radio 4 sex symbol Gail Trimble, the one-woman “intellectual blitzkrieg” who brought in more than two thirds of the total points for Corpus Christi, Oxford’s victorious University Challenge team in the final last night:

gail-trimble-with-two-of-001

Trimble, who has already turned down an offer to appear in a “tasteful shoot for NUTS magazine“, rightly observes that people wouldn’t make so much fuss about her appearance if she was male. All the same, my Starter for Ten.

Concomitant to my post about Professionals having to step carefully when engaging with non-pros using Social Networking (Or in fact any brand for whom ‘we’re creepy so you don’t have to be’ isn’t a core motive).

“Would you believe it, my brother received a Facebook message from Nuts yesterday morning saying ‘can we have your sister’s email address, we want her to do a tasteful shoot’,” the 26-year-old told BBC Breakfast.

“So of course he sent them an answer saying: ‘Seriously mate, would you give your sister’s contact details to Nuts?'”          -Guardian

how could you be so Doctor Evil