Category: Analysis

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Charles Barbour, Associate Professor, Philosophy, Western Sydney University

Remember when Twitter used to be good? I reckon it peaked somewhere around the first COVID lockdowns.

In those days, there was a running gag on the site where everyone would refer to it as a “hellscape”. And it did invite some of the worst that humanity has to offer. Opinions, as the old joke goes, are like assholes: everybody has one.

But if you curated your Twitter feed effectively, you could have immediate scrolling access to the best journalism and cultural commentary, excellent podcasts and comedians, film criticism and book reviews, the latest trends in food, music or clothing, decent information about public health, live stream feeds of smart people on the ground at the most pressing events of the day, not to mention the wisecracks and insights of your friends.

It was like being perpetually part of an in-crowd. The promise of a world where potentially anyone could feel connected, in touch, popular.

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Review: Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What to Do About It – Cory Doctorow (Verso)

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Then came the rumours that the increasingly fascist-curious Elon Musk was scheming to buy the platform. Not possible, we thought at first. It would be a terrible business decision. And anyone interesting or important would flee overnight.

Then Musk did buy Twitter, horribly rebranding it as X. Then we speculated (or hoped) it would drive him bankrupt. Then it didn’t. Then, through deliberate and explicit effort, it went to shit.

Musk decided he would raise money by selling the coveted blue-checks, a form of authentication previously reserved for those who had developed their influence organically. He changed the algorithm to reflect his own views and fired moderators tasked with weeding out misinformation and hate speech. As a result, the platform formerly known as Twitter was soon full of ads, gore, porn, toxicity, AI slop and scams of all variety.

Yet, as if trapped by their established followings or perhaps some contagious fear of missing out, people stayed. Calls to migrate en masse to other liberal-coded platforms largely failed.

For some reason, this logic seems to be taking over all social media, even the internet itself. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Amazon, Google, Apple, Uber, Spotify: everything turns to shit. And no one is able to escape.

To paraphrase a song about another way we get trapped by misplaced desires: welcome to the Hotel Crapifornia. You can check in any time you like, but you can never leave.

An inhuman nightmare

In 2022, Canadian journalist, novelist and activist Cory Doctorow coined the term “enshittification” to describe the degeneration of the internet.

Back when the internet was good, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Doctorow was every hipster’s hero. His blog Boing Boing was required reading for anyone interested in emerging technologies. If you wanted to be recognised as cool, you entered the coffee shop conspicuously carrying a copy of his latest book. It seemed that no one knew more about where technology had come from, and where it was likely to go. He was our prophet.

His 2003 novel Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, for example, was a dystopian story of a post-scarcity world where monetary currency had been replaced with what Doctorow called “whuffie” – essentially a measure of how much others respect you.

This was just before social media stormed into all our lives, with its vertiginous economy of likes and followers, attention and influence.

All these years later, Doctorow’s Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What to Do About It is an attempt to explain how the great dream of the internet – its powerful democratising potential, its incredible capacity to generate human communities and circulate human knowledge – turned into an inhuman nightmare.

We were offered a world of connection and cooperation – an open-source paradise of instant and free access, liberated from the fetters of both corporate ownership and state control.

What we got was a world of ruthless monopolies and oligarchs who control a colossal surveillance apparatus capable of tracking our most private behaviours, producing a population of powerless, compliant consumers – people who have no choice but to keep using their abysmally bad products, because there is nowhere else to go.

Prisoners of our own devices

“Enshittification” is not just a clever term for the grumpy complaint of an ageing Gen-X tech-head. Doctorow wants to develop it as a formal concept that explains the process by which internet platforms, applications and innovations go from being loved by their users to being despised.

Beginning with the case studies of Facebook, Amazon and the iPhone, then expanding out to more or less every platform on the internet, Doctorow proposes that enshittification has three basic stages.

First, platforms are good to their users. People genuinely want to participate. A community develops, but not much profit is made.

Second, in an effort to monetise this new community, platforms are good to companies. They offer them access to markets through advertising or shipping or proprietary arrangements.

Finally, they find a way to screw over those business customers as well as their users to claw all excess value back for themselves.

That is how we arrived at what Doctorow calls “a giant pile of shit”.

Amazon is the easiest example to explain. It started by providing a service that people wanted: fast cheap delivery of products. It then attracted business customers by providing a means to increase profit and market share.

But then, like a medieval warlord, it crushed all competition and used its market dominance to compel tributes from its business customers, in the form of fees that absorbed and exceeded whatever extra profit they may have made in the first place.

At this point, Amazon has absolutely no reason to improve its service. In fact, in order to siphon off even more value by cutting costs, it has every reason to make its service worse.

For Doctorow, the problem is not that some or many internet platforms follow this kind of enshittifying procedure; it is that almost all of them do. And given the ubiquity of the internet in our daily lives, particularly with the advent of the smartphone, our entire world has become enshittified.

We are now in what Doctorow calls the “enshittoscene”. To return to the musical reference mentioned above: we are all just prisoners here, of our own devices.

Make the internet good again

As Doctorow notes, it is easy to predict how the tiny handful of ghouls who benefit from this situation are likely to respond. Well, they are going to say, it might not be great, but that’s capitalism. And as everyone knows, capitalism is the worst system, except for all the others.

But Doctorow refuses to accept the familiar neoliberal logic of “there is no alternative”, because members of his generation (which also happens to be mine) know this is a sham. We know there is an alternative, because we have seen it with our own eyes. The internet was not always shit. It used to be good. And it could be good again.

Doctorow’s proposals for recreating a good internet – one that combines the autonomy and choice of the old internet with the mass scale of the current shit internet – are fourfold: competition, regulation, interoperability and tech-worker power.

In the first instance, Doctorow insists that the internet today is not capitalist at all. Following the economist Yanis Varoufakis, he calls it “technofeudalist”. Like medieval landlords, the tech overlords don’t make money in the enshittoscene by creating or circulating new products. They make it by owning the platforms for the creation or circulation of products and compelling everyone else to rent space on those platforms.

Smashing these rentier monopolies and opening spaces for healthy competition is step one. But doing so will require robust antitrust regulations, which can break the near-monopolies enjoyed by tech companies like Google and prevent anti-competitive corporate mergers. Avenues for enshittification must be shut down by law and this must be coordinated at an international level.

These laws must guarantee the interoperability of all technological systems. Currently, one of the most expensive fluids on planet earth is HP printer ink. HP sets the price unilaterally, because they construct their printers so that no other ink cartridges will work.

In the enshittoscene, the principle of anti-interoperability spreads across nearly all platforms and products. But regulation could ensure that all technological operating systems are compatible with one another, just as regulation ensures that household electronic devices are compatible with uniform powerpoints.

Finally, and most importantly, the people who work in tech industries can be empowered to realise the ethos of collaboration and innovation that, by and large, they share. For the truth is, Doctorow suggests, that most of the people who actually do the work in the enshittoscene – those who build and manage the platforms – hate it as much as the users do. And empowering them would go a long way towards empowering all of us.

Charles Barbour does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How the internet became enshittified – and how we might be able to deshittify it – https://theconversation.com/how-the-internet-became-enshittified-and-how-we-might-be-able-to-deshittify-it-269376

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By David Marshall, Emeritus Professor, New Media, Communication and Cultural Studies, Deakin University

The first half of Stranger Things’ (2016–) final season has received almost 60 million views in five days – making it Netflix’s largest ever English language debut. But the reception has been marred by controversies surrounding actor David Harbour, who plays Jim Hopper, an ex-police chief in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana.

Harbour has been the subject of pop culture news for several weeks now, following the release of ex-partner Lily Allen’s new album. The pair separated in December, 2024, after four years together.

A little over a month ago, Allen released West End Girl – her first full-length album in seven years. It’s a blistering critique of her former partner, and accuses him of cheating during their marriage.

It has been lapped up by critics and – although Harbour has yet to directly address the claims – has clearly left an impression on the public.

Online, Stranger Things viewers have pointed out they can no longer view Hopper – one of the “good guys” on the show – the way they did before Allen’s accusations surfaced.

The line between public and private

The public’s reaction to the couple’s highly-publicised separation is an interesting case study into how social media platforms now shape celebrity culture.

Both Allen and Harbour are successful in their respective fields and have large online followings. They are connected to fans who appreciate their work – many of whom are invested in their personal lives.

And while such parasocial relationships between stars and fans have existed since the dawn of Hollywood, social media platforms are reconstructing what can be defined as “public” and “publicity” – as well as the counterpoints of “private” and “privacy”.

Today’s platforms use algorithms to amplify subtle behaviours, interactions and personal qualities in celebrities that may have once flown under the radar. Putting the magnifying glass on stars in this way helps us feel “closer” to them – further blurring the line between the person and their onscreen personas.

And this inability to separate both explains why numerous stars through the decades have opted to keep certain aspects of their identity (such as their sexuality) hidden.

A social media golden girl

Allen has used Instagram (where she has about two million followers) and TikTok (420,000 followers) to get word of her new album out. It’s clear from her promotional material – and her history with social media – that she knows how to leverage an online audience.

Allen was already a hit on MySpace back in 2006. She had tens of thousands of “friends” on the then-ubiquitous platform, and sold about four million copies of her album Alright, Still (2006) in the first week of its release.

Harbour also has a huge online presence, including some 8.4 million Instagram followers. Interestingly, though, he has been relatively silent about the breakdown of his marriage.

He is now also the subject of headlines focused on allegations, first published in a Daily Mail report, that Stranger Things co-star Millie Bobby Brown filed a bullying and harassment complaint against him before filming began in 2024.

In the recent press tour, Brown told outlets she “felt safe” and has a “great relationship” with Harbour. Still, the initial Daily Mail report seems to have taken root in coverage surrounding the tour.

A new age of celebrity

Stardom has been transformed in the era of social media.

One question now is figuring out the extent to which scandals that are amplified by social media actually impact celebrities’ careers, and how this compares to coverage in the pre-social media age. If fans start to see Harbour as a “bad guy” because of the press and social media chatter, will this affect the quantity or types of roles he gets in the future?

And is it acceptable for social media platforms and influential users to have such outsized power in driving pop culture narratives?

On one hand, fans arguably deserve to know the character of the artists they choose to support. On the other, it’s concerning to think tabloids such as the Daily Mail could potentially derail someone’s career using unverified reports and unnamed sources.

David Marshall is an emeritus professor at Deakin University. He is also an honorary professor at the University of Nottingham – Ningbo China and Co-chair of the Power of Prestige (PoP) research conference. In addition, he is one of the founders/editors of the journal Persona Studies and M/C Journal: Media and Culture.

– ref. Struggling to believe Stranger Things’ Jim Hopper as the ‘good guy’? You’re not alone – https://theconversation.com/struggling-to-believe-stranger-things-jim-hopper-as-the-good-guy-youre-not-alone-270951

Source: The Conversation – Global Perspectives – By Nicholas Coppel, Honorary Fellow, The University of Melbourne

Myanmar’s military regime has announced elections will be held in three phases, starting on December 28 and concluding in January.

Two outcomes are certain: first, the military-aligned party will be recorded as winning and, second, the government in exile – the National Unity Government – will fade even further into the background.

In the close to five years since the military seized power in February 2021, the country has been engulfed in a civil war, with the military pitted against People’s Defence Forces and numerous ethnic armed organisations. Thousands of resistance protestors, fighters and politicians, including President Win Myint and the ever-popular leader Aung San Suu Kyi, remain imprisoned.

The military controls the levers of government and holds all the major population centres. But its brutal air, artillery and drone attacks have failed to crush the resistance. The resistance has captured large swathes of territory, restricting the upcoming elections to only 274 of the nation’s 330 townships (constituencies).

Inside and outside the country, the elections are seen as a sham. The military-stacked Union Election Commission has deregistered political parties for failing to meet criteria it has set, such as having a certain number of party members or offices. It has also dissolved Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy party.

The elections will be held in the context of a state-controlled media landscape in which criticism of them is prohibited under the newly-minted Law on the Prevention of Disruption and Sabotage of Multi-Party Democratic General Elections.

Citizens criticising the election on social media have been sentenced for up to seven years in prison with hard labour. For some offences, the death penalty applies.

The elections are an attempt to gain the legitimacy, at home and abroad, that currently eludes the military regime. They are designed to demonstrate authority and give an impression of effective control. By simulating compliance with international democratic norms, the regime hopes to promote a sense of normalcy, consolidate power and open the door to greater international engagement, all the while preserving the status quo.

The National Unity Government living in exile and a myriad of its international supporters are calling on the international community to not send election observers. Instead, they want the world to denounce the sham election.

ASEAN leaders are insisting that a cessation of violence and inclusive political dialogue precede elections. They have rebuffed an invitation to send observers.

The best the regime could hope for is that some individual ASEAN member states join Russia and Belarus in sending observers. However Thailand, the most ambivalent ASEAN member, which has argued the election should serve as a foundation for a sustainable peace process, is now saying it will be difficult for ASEAN re-engage with Myanmar. China is believed to be supportive of elections, but has not committed publicly to sending observers.

Continued Western ostracism won’t matter to the junta, for whom regional legitimacy is more important than either domestic or Western legitimacy.

Neighbouring countries are concerned about peace and stability on their borders, high levels of irregular migration, the impact of unregulated mining that pollutes rivers flowing through their countries, the flourishing production and trade in heroin and methamphetamine, and the proliferation of cyber scam centres enslaving and defrauding their citizens.

Citizens of these countries demand their governments address these issues, and the elections will make contact with the regime more defensible. It won’t be a case, as it was before, of competing views on whether engagement or isolation is the better way to bring about reform in Myanmar.

This time, there will be no delusions about reform. Rather, neighbours will be concerned with their national interest agenda, and will ride out any accusations of appeasement and complicity in atrocity crimes. After all, authoritarian elections and dealing with authoritarian regimes is not unusual in Southeast Asia.

It would be a mistake to see the elections in 2025–26 as a re-run of the 2010 elections. Those elections were held under the 2008 constitution, which ushered in a reformist government led by a former general.

The elections will not be a transition to civilian or parliamentary rule. Nor will they be an exit ramp for coup leader Commander-in-Chief Min Aung Hlaing. To ensure his own safety, he will want to remain in a role where the apparatus of the state will protect, not prosecute, him.

The elections will be a sham, but they will usher in changes to the military line-up. The current commander will no doubt become president and choose a compliant military officer as his replacement as commander-in-chief. The parliament will be dominated by the military and military-aligned parties.

In the immediate aftermath of the election, it will be hard to see any change in the fear and violence that are the tools of choice for regime survival.

However, under Myanmar’s tattered constitution, the military commander is not answerable to any civilian authority, even the president. Min Aung Hlaing’s replacement might at some point become his own man and favour a negotiated end to the conflict.

That is, the elections open the possibility of some diffusion of power. Although this seems unlikely now, it may be better to have this (albeit remote) possibility rather than no election and a continuation of the status quo – a brutal military dictatorship and relentless war of attrition.

The National Unity Government in exile needs to engage with the reality that elections will be held, bringing the junta greater regional engagement, rather than wishing for some imagined day of meaningful international support. Otherwise, it could fade even further into the background.

Nicholas Coppel is affiliated with the Australia Myanmar Institute, a not-for-profit group, and is a former Australian ambassador to Myanmar.

– ref. Myanmar’s military will no doubt win this month’s sham elections. But could a shake-up follow? – https://theconversation.com/myanmars-military-will-no-doubt-win-this-months-sham-elections-but-could-a-shake-up-follow-269793