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Racism, sexism, agism, classism, et cetera – they suck, right?

I would like to propose a law that says that people in a position of privilege have a legal obligation to speak out on behalf of the less-privileged in the same category, or pay a penalty.

So men always have to speak up against misogyny, Caucasians against racism, the middle-class against classism and so on.

I’m particularly looking to get my fellow youngish straight cis white normally-abled middle-class men on side. Whaddaya say, fellas? Every time you hear someone being misogynist, racist, classist, agist, homophobic or otherwise bigoted, you have to speak up or lose a chunk of change?

No? Sounds exhausting? A bit excessive? Why the hell should you have to choose between speaking up or paying up?

Welcome to being on the receiving end. Every time something misogynistic gets said, a woman has to make the choice: fight or lose out. And she might be losing something worse than money. Every racist joke costs its target time and energy, or something else, whether a little peace of mind or self-confidence, a job, their personal safety… And so on; you get the idea. Every time someone is put down for some irrelevant attribute, there’s a choice: fight it or pay.

And if they aren’t around to hear, they don’t even get the choice to fight. They just have to pay, later, when the latent bigotry that’s been instilled and/or reinforced comes into play.

It’s one of the key ways in which the -isms suck. And if you’re at all fair-minded, you have to admit: it shouldn’t be up to the people who are already copping it to have to pay every time. So if you truly believe the -isms are wrong… guess we’ll be hearing from you.

** Trigger warning: discussion of sexual violence, jokes about rape and death by overdose.

DISCLAIMER: I am not suggesting this in any way, shape or form. The idea below is raised purely for rhetorical purposes.

[Some context for the non-geeky reader:

In August, the gamer webcomic Penny Arcade (probably the most influential geek/gamer lifestyle icons in the world) posted this comic about the mercenary elements of “heroism” in online games. They received some pretty reasonably-expressed critiques (representative sample linked) about the use of rape for comic effect, and possibly some others.

They posted this follow-up, whose third panel features some of the most blatant straw-manning I’ve ever seen. And yes, I get that it’s meant as a joke, and an aggressive reaffirmation of the fact that they do go to extremes and exaggerate. I’m not dumb. But there’s more to it than they’re admitting… and they were duly called on it.

To which they have responded verbally (bottom post) with the old “there’s worse out there, why make a fuss about this” line (as though they weren’t fuelling the fuss themselves with intentionally inflammatory responses), but also by producing a T-shirt which makes the mythical rape-beasts of the original strip the mascots for a team playing an unspecified sport.]

Setting aside the fact that we know there actually do exist groups of young men who do treat rape as a team sport (and a joke), here’s why making “Dickwolves” sports tops is an appallingly toxic thing to do.

Mike Krahulik (“Gabe”) has spoken openly about the pain and trauma of having a beloved family member die of an overdose of drugs and how deeply it has affected him.

How would he feel if he were to walk into PAX to see large numbers of people in a sports top with the logo of a fictional rival team to the Dickwolves – the “Dead Junkies”? Perhaps a stylised corpse head with a syringe in its eyeball?

Clearly, anyone who did that would be not only a smartarse but a scumbag. After all, it is not fair to push those kinds of buttons simply to make a point – or rather, a gesture – in a different argument (about gender equality and rape culture).

So my question is, how is that different from what Krahulik and Holkins have done to survivors of rape – who are more numerous, and who continue to be vulnerable to repetitions of the trauma? (This would be analogous to mocking dead overdose victims in the presence of a family who have not only already lost one child, but have another whose future is uncertain.)

They have put a term which is now inextricably associated with rape-as-joke on a mass-produced T-shirt – and worse, one which will be widely worn at PAX events (supposedly “welcoming”, “inclusive” geek community events).

True, they have another point they want to make (about their initial remark being dependent for its meaning on rape being an awful thing, and how that context appears to have been lost; and the wider propensity for the internet to miss the point; and also, dicks are funny hee hee hee). Their point is fundamentally flawed: they don’t get to define the lives and contexts of their millions of readers; and they are more than a little arrogant to assert that they shouldn’t have to take into account the undeniable fact that a great many of those people are rape or sexual assault survivors. (We’re really not talking a niche group here; and given the gravity of the trauma, I don’t think it’d matter if we were. There are more rape survivors than war veterans, or families of lynching victims, or relatives of OD deaths, and we wouldn’t treat any of those groups with this kind of casual contempt.)

But even if their point was valid, that still doesn’t justify pressing the trauma button (or the “rape-is-amusing” button) on the thousands if not millions of people who will see these garments during their lifespan. Any more than parading a Team Dead Junkies T-shirt in front of Krahulik and his family would be educational, or worth the yuks.

The irony? You’d find the people objecting to Team Dickwolves (and being dismissed by the PA guys, and abused by their fanbois) up front in the Krahuliks’ defence if you tried anything of the sort.

Trauma isn’t funny. Kind of by definition. Being indifferent to the knowledge that your actions may trigger PTSD in large numbers of people – members of a community you actively build in other ways, and for whom you are both lodestone and touchstone – for the sake of a fleeting kick is a shameful thing to do. (Not to mention creating widespread postive reinforcement for the one-in-sixteen men who will admit to raping as long as you only describe the actions themselves, and don’t actually use the R-word, because hey, it’s all in fun, and everybody’s a little bit shonky when they’re trying to get some, and if you don’t actually get dragged into court it can’t have been THAT bad, right?)

The most disappointing thing for me is that these two guys are perfectly capable of sophisticated nuance and real humanitarianism. They are smart. They know the size of their audience, and they must have some inkling of the percentages of those people who are survivors of this sort of violence. But they can’t do the basic maths to think about the number of survivors whose mood, or day, or mental health they assault; or the numbers of scumbags who will take everything they’ve done – even the first two panels of that second comic – as all part of the joke rapists play on the people they rape: the “we pretend this is bad, but I can do this and get away with it and not even care how you feel, ha ha” joke, with the sports top as the punchline.

You’d really think there’d be a little more distaste for that sort of bullying from the geek crowd.

Or at least a little more intelligence.

We deserve better from two such major icons of geek culture; and if we don’t get it, we need to find better icons.

jokes

Not a lot to say about this – most of it was rehashing all the myriad ways that privacy is almost a matter now of hoping people choose not to look too hard, especially as regards any interactions with the network. (And also the dangers of getting mixed up with other people who share your markers – name, address etc.)

The key issue, which was skirted around but never squarely addressed, was that privacy is heavily linked with questions of power differentials. The discussion of how modern privacy was a bit of a joke when you had servants around all the time (though you didn’t, in fact; but certainly the more general point stood, that you just had to assume that there were people who knew stuff about you and trust them not to share it) hinged on this point: the only way to enforce aristocratic privacy was the terrible power the upper class had over their inferiors. But it didn’t actually go there, nor to the critical point that any imbalance of power is exacerbated by differences in knowledge about each other. This is true both as a simple, passive translation of knowledge to power, with oppressors having the apparatus and disposable attention-hours to apply close observation and analysis that the oppressed usually cannot afford – something already seen in East Germany’s Stasi and the accompanying informant network – but more insidiously as an active incentive for corrupt people, those seeking power over their fellows, to find their way into the apparatus of surveillance. This isn’t limited solely to surveillance of course – but because surveillance is not directly harmful in and of itself (though it becomes so merely by being known, let alone by being applied) it is easier to rationalise.

Hope this is clear – doing the last-minute rush before sleep again!

OK, got to get to bed for tomorrow’s sessions, but the thing that struck me from this session was that there are a lot of false divisions that need to be overcome.

There was one bloke – didn’t catch his name, but he was coming from the science end, and talked about the influence of science fiction on encouraging people into careers in the sciences – who basically slagged off “greenies” and accused them of being incredibly selfish people who thought hugging trees would make everything OK and who ignored science. I have never once met someone who seriously advocated hugging a tree, and I know rather a lot of greenies, all of whom got interested in the topic precisely because of the science. I know there are people out there who match the stereotype, but it’s completely irrelevant and kind of destructive. I suspect it comes from the opposition to things like genetic engineering of food crops; but everyone I know who opposes it does so on historically-informed scientific grounds, by which I mean that they are conscious of how radical human intervention in complex systems can completely derail them – has done so in the past, for instance the ways the Green Revolution of the 70s has directly contributed to degradation of crop soil – and so they are not gung-ho optimistic about how right it’ll all be.

Another example was the tension between human rights and the pressing need for sweeping changes in human systems; reconciling the need to re-engineer our lifestyles with people’s freedoms is a toughie. But in fact the tension isn’t an opposition; human rights violations will only increase as environmental change takes place and competition over resources grows, while ignoring human rights while creating change will only lead to conflict that will slow change at best and (if it grows violent) lead to tremendous destruction.

Another union of contrasts is the solution: science and literature. As pointed out in the session, both require imagination, exploration and publication; and they offer a chance to show how the world might work in sustainable ways. I actually think we need to go beyond that, to try to imagine new forms of heroism and new kinds of solution. Too often heroism is defined as the quality of a particular individual or small group of individuals, whereas what we require here is co-operation on a truly epic scale, of the kind that won World Wars. And the solution here is not only new technologies, but the wisdom to accept voluntary austerities and restraints before they become scarcity and constraint; in other words, not the single stroke that saves the world, but the steadfast, ongoing will to hold ourselves within limits set by reason rather than blindly bloating out to the boundaries of a capacity we know extends well into self-destruction.

It’s possible. It just needs to be imagined loudly enough.

A polite way of saying someone is not only in denial, but has selected their own backside as the inadequate-hiding-place of choice. And is usually talking out their rear end as a result.

You heard it here first!

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…is becoming one of the central themes of my economic thought.

In my previous post I argued that what we’re calling economic “growth” is largely not maturation or development, but mostly bloat.

For years now, I’ve been calling 4WDs (SUVs, to Americans) “bloatmobiles”, for their ridiculous carbon footprint, the way their puffed-up shapes block the sightlines whether moving or parked, the increased risk of death and injury they pose both to their own passengers and (by a factor of about 5) to other road users, the absurd tax subsidies they get to their price because of the fiction that they’re “trucks” and therefore automatically work vehicles, and the deliberate marketing of overinflated ego that has been used to sell them. I never minded them when the only people using them actually needed them…

I digress. I may even rant. My point:

Bloat is unhealthy expansion. Its applicability to a huge number of aspects of modern life, especially the economic/environmental, is obvious. Spread the meme.

For those not familiar with the term, game theory is not theory about how to make or consume games, it’s theory of the best way to make decisions in systems where the outcomes are also determined by the decisions of other participants in the field of activity (or other “players” active on the field of “play”). The film A Beautiful Mind includes some introductory examples of game theory, as its protagonist is one of the pioneers of the field, and the Prisoner’s Dilemma is a boiled-down, binary example of the kind of questions that it can raise.

I have a deep distaste for ultraviolence in any medium. Lacing brutal violence with hilarity and other fun payoffs for its witnesses is problematic enough even in a single work – while the vast majority of people are balanced enough to engage with sufficient detachment to have their fun and walk away, we live in a world which we know to contain unbalanced people who will seek this sort of material out and use it to reinforce their own pathological tendencies.  I question whether the mere entertainment derived from ultraviolence, no matter for how many, is worth the real damage on the psyches of the vulnerable and the risk of actual physical harm should those unbalanced minds collapse completely. Entertainment can be found in so many ways and places that I find it hard to justify serious harm for the sake of any specific instance.

(And catharsis doesn’t apply to a regular indulgence. Catharsis is purification; the original idea was that the audience be purged of the emotions the spectacle – i.e. the Greek tragedy – inspired, that those feelings flare up and fade away. But if people are instead seeking violent spectacles out more and more, their desire to witness brutality is not being exorcised but exercised – and becoming more potent as a result.

The only argument I’ll concede may possibly be true in favour of ultraviolence is that it’s a form of sublimation – by watching or participating in fictional violence, people are relieved of their desire for the real. But I’m very much unconvinced and would want to see solid behavioural research supporting the claim – and what research we’ve seen seems to point the other way, where an effect is reported at all. Links not to hand/to come, but along with the studies showing no long-term effect, there have been studies done that showed that the randomised half of a test group of children exposed to violent entertainments did in fact behave more violently subsequently, compared to both their own prior behaviour and their peers in the control group. The randomisation eliminates self-selection as a possible cause, and the clear sequence indicates the causal relationship that most parents I know report anecdotally. Whether the entertainment instigates violent behaviour, and/or is merely due to the children having a greater sense of license to indulge their own violent tendencies, is of course open to dispute – but of secondary importance. As for the difference between short-term effects and long-term effects, that’s a red herring – unless you’re arguing that repeated short-term behavioural effects will not produce habits if exposure is repeated in the long term, which aside from being dubious plays into the hands of people who claim that violent culture directly and immediately causes violence, and therefore should be censored right now because that will magically stop people being violent.)

Where violent entertainment becomes even more disturbing is when it becomes a selling point, which it indisputably has thanks to the grotesqueries of psycho-and/or-torture-centric horror films, fragfest games, and all the familiar bugbears of the Joe Liebermans of the world and their predecessors.  It’s only a short step, and one we’ve already taken, from something being a selling point to it being something in which people compete to outdo each other, leading to both the rapid escalation of extremity of violence (whether considered as a percentage of total screen time or  in terms of the degree of violence and the toxic emotions expressed thereby), and the tremendous growth in the number of such entertainments we’ve seen over the last decade or two.

Given that we know that human beings both determine their values and decide how to express those values in the real world based on a kind of composite picture of the people around them – not blindly seeking some perceived average, but using that as a basis for judgment, and often completely unconscious of the assumptions and prejudices they incur in the process – a culture which features more and more images of violence with payloads of enjoyment and fun is particularly problematic. It’s not just that it’s arithmetically, or even exponentially, more likely that a mind way down on the troubled end of the bellcurve will find some disturbing content to latch onto as such content is more frequently available. I would also argue that as violence saturates the culture, that has the effect of shifting the curve itself towards the violent end. I recognise that this is a slow process, and is resisted by other forces in human nature and in the wider culture. But as any student of probability will tell you, even small shifts of the bellcurve produce dramatic increases in what was seen as extreme under the old bellcurve, and dramatic decreases at the other end. (Think about the shape of the curve. If you’re right at the edge of the bell, not much fits underneath; but if the bell moves towards you even a little, there’s a marked increase in how much fits underneath, and therefore how often the same thing is occurring.)

The upshot of this is I have been known to take the view that most if not all ultraviolent entertainments – certainly pretty much every one I’ve seen – should never have been made. Even where there is actually some substantial moral point being made, rather than it being essentially a bloody confectionery (and yes, that’s intentionally a revolting image), I have taken the view that to the extent the point could have been made without the shock value it should not have employed such tactics.

This is often taken as an argument for censorship. And to be clear, I am not absolutely opposed to censorship – and neither are you if you believe that gloating images of cruelty and harm to children, or animals, or women, or minority groups, or anyone should be produced for entertainment, even if no actual harm was done in making them. A poster exulting in a photograph of a racially motivated murder, or a film whose entire content was the torture of a child and gleeful comments thereon, would be illegal on the grounds that the acts necessary to make them are clearly crimes… but if you agree with me that such material should be illegal even if the images they contain are cartoons and nobody need be directly hurt in their creation, then you are in favour of censorship, and the question is merely one of where we draw lines.

But I also know that power to censor absolutely (as opposed to restricting access based on impartial, impersonal, and indisputably relevant criteria, such as age restrictions) and with criminal penalty is a very grave one to cede to any government, and increasing the scope of such state control over public discourse is something to avoid if at all possible. I’ve volunteered for Amnesty International for over ten years – so I need no convincing on that point.

As always, I find the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the informed discussions of human rights advocates and scholars to be deeply informative (in both senses – it contains useful data, and it helps shape my conclusions) in navigating the conflicting interests at stake in this question. The key point is the UDHR’s insistence that no human right carries with it the automatic right to violate any other human right, and the principle of proportionality – it forces you to look for the solution that preserves freedom.

So my take on it is this:

  • We need to recognise that competing over deriving fun from goriness, violence and general destructive behaviour – and especially making public declarations that imply such things are fun or otherwise desirable, such as in marketing and promotion – will naturally tend to produce more numerous and more extreme examples, as it becomes a point of competition within the culture.
  • We need to acknowledge that in sufficiently large quantities that clearly has social effects. Society is an aggregate of the people, values, behaviours, actions and pronouncements that comprise it – how exactly that aggregate coheres and combines to produce actual lived outcomes is a complex process, but surely we can all agree that the more of a meme goes in, the more of that same meme is likely to come out (and go back in).
  • To the extent that that influences actual behaviour, and thereby produces violations of people’s rights, it is a bad thing; and given that there is not really a major shortage of ways for humans to have fun, pastimes with such effects can and probably should be moderated or even foregone.
  • We need to recognise that if we as citizens do not want a central authority deciding for us which memes are acceptable, we need to take responsibility for ensuring ourselves that the mix of memes is a constructive one, one which is more likely to produce positive outcomes; and while we can’t ever agree exactly on what constitutes a positive outcome, the framework of human rights that emerged from the global trauma of WWII is by formulation and definition a solid common starting point, and a fine articulation of the common sense understanding that we want to be able to be able to live and speak freely and without fear of harm, and that we want that framework to persist across distance (social, physical and otherwise) and time – for our contemporaries, for our travelling/future selves, for our kids.
  • Those of us who are culture-makers have a particular role to play in this matter, as few-to-many meme-generators. Each of us is a key element in the churning and spawning of memes, and we are also those most directly affected by any move to impose central control on which memes can be created and controlled. We therefore have more responsibility than others, and more at stake than others, in ensuring that the overall cultural mix is good, healthy, honest, and all those other contested but still incredibly important qualities.
  • If we fail to take this responsibility, the responsibility doesn’t go away. Someone has to take it up. And the whole thing about “with great power comes great responsibility”? To the exact same extent that that’s true in any given culture, it’s also true that “with great responsibility comes great power”. That’s pretty much the contract on which government rests – they more or less do what needs to be done, and we more or less let them do what they say they need to do to do it. And the more responsibility we surrender, the more power we surrender, and the more likely that corruption creeps in (because it always goes where the power is) and that tradeoff we made is less and less worth it. (Hmmm… future blog post…)

In other words: if we don’t get on top of this ourselves, we’re opening the door for people who quite possibly understand nothing about culture – and who certainly have less time to spend understanding it – to take over the business of deciding what’s good, healthy, honest, etc.

I’d like to think we’re smarter than to let that happen. But we have to start doing more than just applying social pressure, like the kind of statement this blog entry is making – or this one, which I commend – though that’s important too.

We need to actually make this a serious part of our conversations about the creation of culture – and we need to have concrete and honest data on which to base both those conversations and the creative decisions that individual culture-makers make. To me, this should be central to the business of the industry associations – monitoring and reporting on the nature of the culture being created and consumed, not just so that we can all mindlessly mimic the most obvious traits of whatever sells lots in the hopes of cashing in, but so that we can sit back and consider the bigger picture to which we’re contributing.

And in order to reward that reflective approach, we need to be much more scathing towards the only-more-so rip-off, whether that’s a copy within the medium or crap franchise-related adaptation into another medium, like the recent Sands of Time film, which somehow managed to take a truly ingenious (though sometimes a little undercooked in execution) story and fail to even copy all the good bits. (It may be a sometimes-successful business tactic, though it’s a lot more risky than it feels; but we need to do our best to make sure that unoriginal crap gets no more encouragement than such deserves. Note that this definition of unoriginality emphatically includes material that relies for its power on sensationalist exploitation of violence, and puts it squarely into the same category as the crap, emotionally cheap soap operas that most violent game players or film watchers would quite rightly disdain.)

The harshness of our rejection of lazy creations should increase proportionate to the density of the clone population; cultural weeds need to be treated as such. But note that the disrespect and discouragement should be directed at the work, not the creator; we want to foster good creation, so a smaller pool of creators is not in our interests, and imitation is a valid way to learn.

Similarly, we need to be more vociferous (but still reflective and creative) in our admiration of what genuinely does add to the quality of the meme pool – felicitous new combinations or mutations of existing memes, genuine originality, re-appreciation of a longstanding classic, whatever. Here also avoiding ad hominem comment other than attribution is worthwhile – both because the same creator (and sometimes the same work) may offer both praiseworthy and execrable creations, and because keeping that author/work division culturally strong buffers exceptional creations from the failings of their creators.

Finally, creative professionals need to reassert the all-around benefits of getting a work right before releasing it into the wider culture (and that includes shareholders, since better works do better, and besides – shareholders are part of the culture); this is why Valve Software’s approach to game development is widely and rightly accoladed by the very people it most frustrates.

This combination of better information, an increased culture of creative responsibility, and a reassertion of the value of the creator’s vision (and of creators… Bobby Kotick take note) is the best response to the genuine issue raised (often for entirely cynical reasons) by advocates of centralised vetos of culture.

The good news, as I see repeated again and again in the comments of the culture-makers who most seem to work in this way already, is that striving to take into account a wider scope of considerations when making our creative decisions only increases the rewards. Certainly as a reader/player/audience member having more levels on which to enjoy and engage with a creation deepens my appreciation, which benefits both me and the creators whose works I will more actively seek out and support.

A postscript to those who think this smacks of social engineering

Of course it’s social engineering. The thing is, society is always engineered (and always engineering itself); the question is who benefits from the current engineering, who is doing the engineering, and who misses out on both scores.

What I’m advocating here is decentralised engagement culture in ways that neutralise the critics, as opposed to centrally mandated, compulsory engineering that forces creations into some sort of mould. The difference is total.

What I’m suggesting is a more co-ordinated, coherent sharing of information and perspectives, in order to neutralise the problem the Prisoner’s Dilemma so compellingly illustrates: people acting in what seems like their own rational self-interest without consideration of the bigger picture (and understanding of their own contribution thereto) will almost certainly act sub-optimally, even in terms of that simple self-interest.

The alternative, just not addressing people’s legitimate concerns about shifts in culture and refusing to join the dots between our own work and its peers, doesn’t benefit creators – access to a better understanding of the bigger cultural picture is not going to hurt their work – and it essentially abandons the field to the self-appointed censors, who can be trusted to take the responsibility on themselves and to demand the power that goes with it – which is power over our creations.

So we need to tweak the “rules” – which are constantly shifting anyway – of the creative subculture to reward more originality, reduce incentives for reliance on escalation of emotive (especially violent) content, and help everyone (creators and public) be better informed – and make judgments and decisions accordingly.

“Responsibility” is a word that’s come to mean staidness, boringness even, and at least prudence, caution and duty; it’s certainly not a playful word.

But it actually derives from the idea of being able to respond to something. “With great power comes great responsibility” because you have the ability to respond more meaningfully and effectively to the world around you, to make more of a difference.

And your response will be a better one the more it takes into account the whole picture, the more engaged, nuanced and creative it is.

An engaged, nuanced, creative response? Sounds like play to me. So maybe people who are truly “responsible” are simply people who acknowledge and incorporate the moral dimension to their engagement with, and play in, the world. People who play mindful of all the consequences – who play the wider, larger game.

More watchy goodness, mostly courtesy of TED:

Rebecca Saxe: How we read each other’s minds – actually about the  business of making accurate, predictive models of each other’s minds in our own. They’ve localised the ability to a particular segment of the brain, the Right Temporo-Parietal Junction (RTPJ) – verified by manipulating it to vary people’s capacity to understand what’s going on for each other. Quite literally mind-boggling, in several senses; very scary; and absolutely must-watch if you’re at all interested in the ways we relate to each other. I’d be fascinated to know if there is any gender-differentiation between men and women in the development of the RTPJ – and whether there’s any observable difference at birth, given the current state of gender neuroscience which seems to say that the differences between male and female brains in infancy are very few indeed.

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I’m obviously just getting up to speed on the whole Creative Commons/free content debate. So this post may well be repeating stuff that’s been said elsewhere, and even rebutted elsewhere. But here goes.

Writing software, while still an inherently creative activity, is also different to other forms of creative work, and so generalising definitions of freedom from the software publishing context (Richard Stallman’s Free Software Definitions) is not automatically correct. While I respect the urge to generalise principles of freedom across all forms of human endeavour, and indeed this kind of generalisation is a direct product of the general nature of human intelligence, the fact is one of the major ways that harm is done by humans is by misapplication of principles which applied in one context to another where they do not.

The key differences that I see arise from two things: historical context and technical nature.

Historical context

(Before I begin: yes, I know that “it’s been this way” is not the same as “it should continue this way”. But drastic change is understandably met with wariness by people who have a reasonable degree of humility about their own ability to predict the future. I’m identifying obstacles to applying Stallman’s freedoms to artistic content, not necessarily endorsing them.)

Copyright has substantially shifted the balance of the monetisation of fiction, visual art, and music away from being solely about production of the saleable copy (the copy of the book, the copy of the artwork, the performance of the tune) to the creation of the new work which is then reproduced. Prior to copyright, an author of a major work was entitled to no share of the profit her work afforded others, and might well starve while her creation was selling in the thousands. (So it’s worth remembering, even while trying to fix the problems with copyright, that it was originally introduced to remedy a substantial injustice, even if that injustice mattered more than it should have because of the grosser injustices of the system and society within which the artists were creating.)

The only way an artist would be rewarded for the composition of a new work was if it was commissioned by someone rich – a business model which somewhat rewards withholding creative efforts, and certainly reduces the incentive to create on spec – which is part of why, relatively speaking, the majority of substantial works in the pre-industrial period constituted propaganda on behalf of religions, governments, and other powerful people and/or institutions. So not only was copyright created to correct an injustice, but one of the effects that it had was to shift power away from the ruling class to individual creators. This was reinforced by other social shifts taking place at the time, and as always the powerful have found ways to shift it back to their advantage, but the development of critical intellectual culture was tremendously enabled by the ability of creators to demand both a place at the table and a slice of the pie in the distribution of their work.

None of this mitigates the clear need to remedy some of the drastic abuses of copyright that we are seeing in the present day. But it does explain why some of those whom one might most expect to support such reform are coming out strongly in favour of traditional models of copyright. Any reform is far less likely to succeed without that historical understanding, and an acknowledgment that the philosophy of copyright has some roots in justice, even if you hold that some of the assumptions that pinned that concern to notions of property are now outdated.

Technical nature

Software is different to all other creative forms – including some which sit on a platform of software – because it is rarely an end in itself to the vast majority of its consumers.

People who run an operating system do not do so because they find the experience pleasant or enlightening. They find it enabling.

The same goes for the vast majority of other software. Even reader or media player software is a means to the end of the book, song, image or movie. The only software which springs to mind as being something which people run as an end in itself is gaming software. And I do not believe it to be a coincidence that there has yet to be a successfully-produced free software game that rivals commercially available games in the same way that Linux rivals – or surpasses – commercial OS software, or OpenOffice can substitute for Microsoft Office. (In fact, a disturbingly large number of the games listed on the Free Software Foundation’s site are ports or other adaptations of games which previously appeared elsewhere.)

A key result of this difference is that the majority of operating system and productivity software – software which enables the user to do something else – is subject to objective assessment. Either it does what it is required to do reliably and efficiently or it does not. There are degrees of efficiency, and even some room for subjectivity as to preferable coding technique and user interface, but nobody other than fellow creators would give any time to flawed-but-interesting code. By contrast, in traditional artforms and even (again, not coincidentally) in games software, successful execution (comprehensible writing in fiction, functional games software, etc) is only the first step.

Yes, there are electronic games out there which come with editing tools that allow the end user to create and share levels or modules; I doubt many people, including the developers who publish them as “toolsets”, would regard these programs as games in themselves. Similarly, there have been Choose Your Own Adventure books which allow users to assemble their own narrative by selecting from the material provided, though that material is fixed. The closest comparison to most software would be the ruleset for a roleplaying game, though even there there is a range of balances between fixed content and open procedure, from the fully generic like GURPS and Mythic, to genre-based games like D&D and Mutants & Masterminds, to games designed to simulate specific fictional settings like Call of Cthulhu and A Song of Ice & Fire Roleplaying, to games that really only allow for a single story to be told through to a limited range of conclusions (the most extreme of which might be something like the quasi-RPG Werewolf).

Not coincidentally, these sets of procedures are likely to share another distinctive quality of software: multiple iterations. Very few traditional creative works will be substantially revised once released to the public, though some reference material might (and, not coincidentally, it is precisely this sort of reference material which lends itself best to being shared and open-sourced in similar ways to software, as wikis everywhere prove). There may be sequels, whose names may even include similar numeric coding to software’s version notations; but these are not only additive but may even require the first work to make sense, whereas version 2.0 of an application will generally replace 1.0 wholesale.

This, I think, points to the key difference which needs to be reconciled with Stallman’s freedoms. A traditional creative work is intended not as a process or a tool to be used by others, which makes personalisation and adaptation highly desirable, but as a definitive statement or expression which is offered as-is for others to react to on its own terms, which makes modification by others undesirable, as it is likely to lead to confusion and/or misrepresentation.

A person creating a tool is less likely to be held responsible for its effect on other people, though depending on the nature of the tool (i.e. the things it enables, the side-effects of its design etc) this may be appropriate – the leather-worker in Se7en is an example of this line being crossed. Tools generally act on things, whether concrete physical objects (even the human body) or abstract entities like words, and do so under human direction. By contrast, the author of a traditional creative work, whether fiction or non-fiction, is held responsible for its effect on other people, because such works (as opposed to their media) act directly on consciousness, not on things. They inform, educate, entertain, illuminate, advise – and/or bore, deceive, confuse, manipulate, baffle – and all those verbs have people as their objects.

In other words, publishing a creative work is an act of communication between people, whereas software is a tool used by people (possibly to facilitate communication, but VOIP is not the same as conversation) and need not be interpersonal in any way. The sharing of speech is therefore necessarily different from the sharing of software. Attribution, modification, publication and sharing take on different meanings and have different effects when applied to speech as opposed to software; being exactly correct about what was said how and when by whom matters more for speech than it does for code, where the concern is more simply whether something works or not. For this reason, certain freedoms in relation to traditional creative acts carry with them responsibilities that do not apply to the same extent in code. And as always, personal freedoms must sometimes be protected by restricting the freedom to behave in ways that reduce freedom overall.

Whether copyright is the best implementation of such protection is highly debatable, but at least both copyright and Creative Commons recognise those differences.

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