Showing posts with label home video. Show all posts
Showing posts with label home video. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Recording each other for justice

Each Saturday, a recurring conflict takes place outside of an abortion clinic, a conflict that sheds light on how media technologies raise questions about the ethics of surveillance and privacy. It's a good example of how these issues are not just about how governments and corporations monitor citizens and consumers, but how these questions arise from interactions among citizens. My understanding of precisely what occurs around the abortion clinic is based on anecdotal evidence, so take everything in this entry with a grain of salt. This is one of those phenomena that I'd love to devote more time to understanding, if only I had the time. There is a compelling ethnography waiting to be written about it, one that would be particularly relevant to communication law scholars.

The space outside the clinic is occupied by two groups: protesters seeking to persuade individuals entering the clinic not to get abortions, and a group of people (hereafter referred to as "defenders") seeking to protect or buffer individuals entering the clinic from harassment from the protesters. This particular arrangement of individuals could have occurred long before the advent of digital networked technologies. What I'm interested in is what happens when you add those tools to the mix.

Protesters are often seen using their phones to take pictures of defenders and the license plates of defenders' cars. Protesters are, by law (at least as far as I know), permitted to do this. Both the protesters and defenders occupy a public space, or at least a space that is not "private" in the sense that one's home is private. Protesters are not, as I understand it, allowed to take pictures of individuals entering the clinic, as this would violate their rights to privacy as patients of the clinic. Even though they are not yet inside the clinic, if they are on the clinic's property and they are patients, their rights to privacy extend to the area around the clinic. If defenders believe that protesters are engaging in unlawful picture-taking, the defenders will use their phones to video record the protesters taking pictures.

Predictably, tempers occasionally flare, voices are raised, people get in each others' faces, and when behavior that approaches the legal definition of harassment or assault occurs, everyone starts recording everything with their phones. The image of extremely worked-up people wielding cameras as one would wield a weapon, recording each other recording each other in a kind of infinite regress of surveillance, strikes me as ludicrous, partly because the act of recording someone with your phone makes you appear passive, somewhat nerdy, and almost...dainty.

What is the point of all this recording? In most cases, the intention seems to be to catch others in an act of law-breaking, to create a record of evidence to turn over to the police that could be admissible in a court of law. But in other cases (e.g., the protester's pictures of defenders' license plates), the intent seems to have little to do with the actual law. The police would have little interest in the license plate numbers of law-abiding citizens. So, why are they doing this, and what happens to these pictures?

Enter social networking sites (SNS). The pictures, as I understand it, are subsequently uploaded to a SNS group page which contains a collection of pictures of defenders and their license plates. It is possible for SNS users to make such groups "secret" and/or invitation-only, so that the groups could not be found by those in the pictures. My understanding is that this leads to those who are in the pictures disguising their identities online so as to infiltrate the secret groups, acting as moles.

But what is the point of developing these online inventories of people who are defenders or protesters or, for that matter, publicly state any particular belief? Is all of this just an intimidation technique? And if so, is it effective? Is there a kind of panoptic logic at work here, in which the fear comes from not knowing precisely who will see those pictures and in what context they will be seen (e.g., by a would-be employer 20 years from now)? Are they using the pictures as part of a concrete plan to take action against the individuals in the pictures, or is it not that well thought-out? Do people taking pictures and amassing inventories like this do so because they imagine that someday, the law will change, or collective sentiment will change, at which point it will becoming damning evidence that one was affiliated with a group that is then seen as abhorrent? Is it akin to a German taking a picture of a Nazi sympathizer in 1939, banking on the fact that while being a Nazi at that time was socially acceptable, it would not be so for long, and that when it became unacceptable, the picture could be used to discredit or blackmail the person?

I don't think this phenomenon is relegated to protesters or defenders of abortion. I often think of it in a much more benign context: traffic violations. Let's say I were to record individuals making illegal U turns (or not using their fricking blinkers). The police may not be interested in my small-stakes vigilantism, but what if I were to start to amass an online inventory that included recordings of lousy drivers caught in the act, and the database included their license plates and pictures of their faces. The judgment here isn't taking place in a court of law. It's a kind of public shaming via peer-to-peer surveillance.

Aside from questions of motivation, the phenomenon raises questions of legality and ethics. It's my understanding that it is okay to take pictures of other individuals in public places, and/or their cars and license plates, and post those pictures online as long as the individuals and cars were in public. Perhaps at some point, were someone to take thousands of pictures of someone leaving their office everyday, it becomes an illegal activity (stalking), but I imagine the line to be blurry (are two pictures okay? Is it only not okay when you've been told to stop?). But what if you only take a single picture of an individual in public, and that individual isn't breaking the law, but you put that picture together with pictures of many other people engaged in a similar activity in an effort to publicly shame them or intimidate them? That seems illegal, but how do you prove what the effort or intention really was? Would it qualify as defamation?

Maybe it hinges on whether or not someone is a public figure. If a protester was quoted in a newspaper or their picture was on the front page of the New York Times, then this seems like fair game. The individual in the paper might suffer negative consequences as a result of being widely known for his quote and his behavior, but what are we supposed to do, not allow the press to depict protesters? What if a blog quoted a protester and featured a picture of him? Functionally, the blog isn't much different than the newspaper, and the lines between the two are blurry. The case of the protester quoted in the New York Times is realistic but rare, whereas there will likely be a great many quotes and pictures on SNS of people stating all sorts of beliefs and doing all sorts of things that may be worthy of judgment to some people at some time.

Even if we decide it fits into a certain legal or ethical category, this may not matter if the behavior remains secret, if technology enables it but doesn't bring it to the surface (i.e., the problem of policing secret inventories).

One possibility is that the law has simply been outstripped by technology. In place of the law, people respond to unethical uses of technology with, you guessed it, more technology. In this case, technology developers make it harder to take surreptitious pictures of people by making it difficult to turn the camera shutter sound off on camera phones. Other tech developers have engineered clothing that reflects light back at cameras in such a way that renders their images invisible. It could be argued that we have been living in a world in which every step of the justice system now functions through technology outside of traditional channels of justice administration, and that the best thing we can do is acknowledge that reality and consider how best to create an ethical world given the imperfect state of things, at least for the foreseeable future.

Thursday, April 09, 2015

A paean to cassettes

While leafing through the book "mix tape: the art of cassette culture", which was recently given to me as a gift from a good friend, I got to thinking about how I came of age at a time when cassette tapes were the dominant mode of conveying music, and a time when VHS cassettes were the dominant medium through which video was disseminated. But the big innovation that came with cassettes - both audio and video - was that you could record on them. They were, to my knowledge, the first widespread medium for recording audio and video.

The other widespread recording medium that was already established was photography. But you typically took pictures of other things or other people, not pictures of existing artistic products (though, I suppose, plenty of people took pictures of paintings, causing some crisis regarding the value we place in an image). Of course, the influence of technologies that allow people to reproduce or copy art on the value of art has been thoroughly explored (probably beat into the ground at this point). I suppose I'm less interested in the ways cassettes allowed people to copy music and video and more interested in the ways in which it facilitated the re-purposing of existing work.

It wasn't radical re-purposing in most cases. It wasn't like we were using Photoshop to create some sophisticated blending of images, or using some audio editing software to create a unique mash-up. We were just putting songs next to other songs on a mix tape, or an episode of Late Night with David Letterman next to an episode of Square One. The juxtaposition still creates something unique, but the way in which it changes the meaning or mood of the listening/viewing experience is more subtle than the total reconfiguration that digital tools facilitate.

The other defining characteristic of that era, to me, only becomes apparent in retrospect: we couldn't disseminate the thing we created very widely. That is the difference between the mix tape and the Playlist on ITunes, Spotify, or YouTube. The mix tape was like a private joke, only intended to be relevant to certain people at a certain time and place, which makes it seem more intimate as I remember it. It makes me wonder about various kinds of hyper-local, hyper-personal social media like Yik Yak and Snapchat that have arisen in the wake of broadcasting social media like Twitter. Will the teens of today look back wistfully on the Snaps or Yaks they sent one another in the same way that I look back on mix tapes I made and received, and those cobbled-together VHS cassettes containing whatever I found funny in 1995?

Of course, the difference is that Snaps and Yaks are also intentionally ephemeral while cassettes were intended to preserve. Also, cassettes were intimate in that they were meant to be shared with one other person, or a small group, but they were comprised of elements from popular culture, which kept them from being too intimate or personal (though when I think back to some of the mix tapes I made for others, they do seem as embarrassingly soul-baring as an ill-conceived Yak). There wasn't even the possibility that the cassette mix would ever leak out into the wider public and impress anyone other than its intended audience of one or a few intimates.

With cassettes, we had a kind of circumscribed freedom to play around with the music and video that informed who we were and who we were becoming. Obviously, home recordings are worth preserving - the home videos and, though there aren't very many, the home audio recordings we made when we were young. But the mix tapes and the VHS tapes of TV shows seem to me to be more indicative of that time, more unique because of their limitations.