Her Majesty the Queen of Impressions Returns to the Boob Tube

Back in the glory days when the Simpsons first aired, I remember watching The Tracey Ullman Show afterwards, characterized by her zany characterizations that I was probably too young to fully appreciate. She’s back, but this time on premium cable, and last night premiered her new series State of the Union. She is at times hilarious, at other times utterly depressing for her spot-on renditions of the great contradiction that is the US of A. The premise behind the show is the cliché “day-in-the-life” snapshot, stitched together with a Google Earth inspired CGI intersitial and voice-over à la Idiocracy. The premiere’s highlights included the Bollywood Pharmacist, Tony Siricio as indy-flicker and of course, Princess Bloggini herself, Arianna Huffington. If you can tolerate the hit-or-miss bag of tricks intrinsic to impressions, and Anglophile humor, or just like comedic uses of makeup, give it a shot.

» Official Previews

Space Time Play — Computer Games, Architecture and Urbanism: The Next Level

» Book Website (spacetimeplay.org)
» Table of Contents (PDF)
» Introduction (PDF)

Available to the US in November 2007 from Birkhäuser and edited by Friedrich von Borries, Steffen P. Walz, Matthias Böttger, Space Time Play — Computer Games, Architecture and Urbansim: The Next Level offers readers 62 concise essays and interviews interspersed between 64 game, film and science-fiction book reviews, and 48 game research projects, all brilliantly organized into 5 ascending levels, sequenced into topics that build upon the theory of the editors, that video gaming has come of age as one of society’s most crucial and influential cultural artifacts. Richly illustrated and well populated with important and influential theorists, designers and academics, Space Time Play multi-tasks as a scholarly tome, coffee table guide to gaming, and manual of pop culture memes driven by gaming industry.

Steffen Walz, friend and editor of the collection, generously sent me an advance copy, and I’m thrilled to share the news of this exciting addition the growing library of scholarly treatments of gaming on culture, art, media and urbanism. The text is especially unusual in the way it will appeal to gamers and scholars alike, exemplifying how the subject matter is no longer relegated to fringe discussions of gaming’s profound influence on contemporary humanity. Every reader will find at least one game review that resonates within him or herself, whether it’s Katie Salen’s perfectly worded analysis of Alexey Pajitnov’s timeless classic Tetris or the de-mystification of the first alternate reality games (ARGs) to emerge such as EA’s Majestic reviewed by Kurt Squire, or The Beast reviewed by Dave Szulborkski, used by Spielberg to promote A.I. Artificial Intelligence. Readers will enjoy remembering classics such as Asterioids through Jesper Juul’s reframing it as a “forgotten futurism” or considering if SimCity informs and influences notions of urban planning and governance or simply reveals itself as simulated simulation.

Levels 1 and 2 situate the history of computer games as interactive play spaces and connect these basic ideas to the framework of the Ludic Metropolis, or City of Play. Along with the physical representations of space in video gaming, the urbanist modes of exchange and social intercourse are examined with many specific game and research projects. In the end, we discover how narrative environments like World of Warcraft shape identities through an interconnection of an architecture of play, socially immersive design, and timeless storytelling.

In Level 3, Ubitquitous Games: Enchanting Places, Buildings, Cities and Landscapes, the Ludic City is crafted as an actual real-life play space, broken out of the computer console, but no doubt influenced by its tendencies, parameters and tools. Examples like geocaching, locative games, ARG advertising, augmented realities, mobile media, Parkour, and others evoke an idea of gaming within true social space, the city as a game board, and the separations between game and life fully blurred.

In Level 4, Serious Fun: Utilizing Game Elements for Architectural Design and Urban Planning, the Ludic City is envisioned as a proving ground and design tool. Architects and urban planners, embracing the organic, player driven models of gaming, employ its modes towards generative and evaluative instances of complexity management and design research. Here especially, the editors posit the newly respected role of game technologies for the social causes of urbanism and design towards the common good. Skeptics of the value of gaming will certainly be challenged in this chapter, their views perhaps not resistant to the well articulated examples of how game design and technologies have already proven their value off the living room couch.

In the final chapter, Level 5, Faites Vos Jeux: Games Between Utopia and Dystopia, the editors collect examples of how games and war play an uneasy partnership on the battlefield for hearts and minds across societies, present and future-minded. This chapter also examines virtual economies, such as the Chinese Gold Miners of World of Warcraft, and in-game advertising’s rise to importance.

The book begins and ends with references to Spacewar!, the very first recorded instance of a video game design, a creation of MIT students in 1962 for the PDP-1, the first device with a graphic monitor, instantiating the language and context of video gaming for many years to come. In reflecting upon how quickly computer games have infiltrated the collective and individualized societies of yesterday, today and tomorrow, we cannot help but imagine their inevitability in the human condition and the importance of play, time and space.

Verdict: An indispensable addition to the library of any interaction designer, game designer, social theorist, architect, urban planner, futurist, student or scholar, casual or fanatical gamer.

We look to China as a totalitarian police-state undergoing hyper-capitalism.

We know that China’s internet is filtered by the Great Firewall of China, an intricate, secretive and semi-effective internet censorship system.

As a guest-professor at Tsinghua University in Beijing, I was offered VIP overseas access on the campus network, which offered, maybe, 80% of the web — everything but Wikipedia, BBC, and who knows what else. Without this extremely special login, however, the web was a stark list of accessible domain names: google.com.cn, microsoft.com.cn, yahoo.com.cn, the university intranet, and a set of Chinese web properties that require Mandarin literacy to discuss here.

I was advised that every site, email and instant message that I exchanged while on the campus network was being logged, databased, and perhaps, even monitored by a human resource, in real-time. In China, as a visitor, you are always impressed by a society the size of ours, quadrupled. A workforce of unimaginable quantity is assigned to each and every micro-task that occupies the Middle Kingdom, Earth’s most ancient society.¹ It is not unimaginable that a team of internet surveillance specialists could have been assigned to monitor my activities, especially since I was an American professor invited to teach design for the web on state turf. Certainly, I would be in a position to discuss controversial topics in front of impressionable minds, movements of web-based democracy. In jargon, we call it Web 2.0, user-generated content, crowd-sourcing, social networks. These tendencies may reflect American group dynamics, the result of open, free expressions. In other ways, web communities resonate with China’s state-centric qualities, group over individual, country over citizen, a bastion of anonymous, de-humanized, technocratic interactions. Really, it’s the hyper-individualism of web democracy that characterizes what’s new and exciting about the net, today. Possessive pronouns and terms of individuality exclaim the brands of blazing net properties. MySpace. YouTube. Facebook.

Not only do Tsinghua students experience a Great Firewall internet, they don’t even benefit from networked classroom computers. Viruses are blamed as the reason, but you won’t even find Ethernet cables connecting PCs in campus classrooms and laboratories. Naturally, it was a challenge to check my email, let alone teach a course in web design. I’ve already written more generally about this teaching exchange on these pages. My point here is that I can confirm from personal experience, the Great Firewall of China is omnipresent, a truth, not an an exaggeration.

We would never imagine that our own internet at home, in the US, was limited² or monitored by our central government. We readily accept that it is monitored and data-mined for profit by the corporations that run these services. But we cherish a different sort of firewall, a Great Firewall of America, a constitutional separation between commerce and government when it comes to surveillance of citizens. In the US, it’s a national ambition to profit from consumer surveillance,³ but it’s a crime for the government to perform unauthorized surveillance of citizens.⁴ Or is it?

Total Information Awareness is the supposed internal name for the Bush Administration’s NSA data-mining operation on the American open internet. We learn today of Attorneys General, past and present, and their secretive exchanges over hospital beds, ordered by the highest powers, to quash concerns of its legality and active use. Surprisingly, Congress scrambles to rewrite laws to make these crimes legal. According to the PBS Frontline “Spying on the Homefront” special reports, we are only beginning to discover how the Great Firewall of America, that sacred separation between Wall Street and Pennsylvania Avenue is secretly breached. In a confusing twist of metaphor, if you believe Mark Klein’s account of the NSA ‘splitter rooms’ at AT&T backbone facilities where the aortas of the internet in major cities are essentially tapped with NSA equipment, Big Brother channels our collective electronic thoughts.

We can only assume that data-mining endeavors of unimaginable scale are taking place on these servers and switches, all paid for by fellow citizens. We can only assume that AT&T and other telecom executives crumbled or gladly accepted the NSA’s requests to install these electronic surveillance centers and install the Great Firewall of America 2.0, the core tool of TIA. Indeed, we can only assume that since installation, every web site, visitor history, email, IM, and file transferred has been logged and data-mined by the NSA. We can only assume that algorithms beyond the scope and scale of Google’s crawlers are trawling and flagging content and IP addresses. The exact identities of each consumer/citizen is obtainable through a court-order to the appropriate ISP. Real-time dossiers are being compiled by software agents, associating net, consumer and governmental identities.

We are told that this is for fighting terrorism, it is patriotic to believe that the government could never erroneously apply justice, that data mining software connects the dots perfectly, and that it is our civic duty to forsake civil rights in the name of security.

We may be able to visit any site we want, post any language or image we desire, and communicate in any manner we see fit, as Americans. Our Chinese counterparts, however, may need to circumvent serious oppressions in order to enjoy similarly unfettered electronic freedoms. Indeed, incarceration and execution remain ever-present risks of destabilization and disruption to social order through expressions of taboo topics.⁵ But we both share in the inevitable shame in knowing that our governments employ the highest of technologies to apply Panoptic surveillance on its citizens. At least in China, you’re easily reminded that this is true. In the US, we are fooled into thinking this is false. The US was a nation designed to be great through its checks and balances. Do we need regimes like China’s to remind us of what we will become if we recklessly abandon our core national values?

So in stating all of this, why would I “feed the dragon” and offer my criticisms here, where the AT&T NSA TIA servers might spider, filter, identify, sort, tag, cross-reference, and save for later, just in case any red flags come up? Red Flags. Imagine that.⁶

Footnotes

1. A direct translation of 中国 (zhong guo), the name for China, in Chinese, is “middle kingdom.” Indeed, the language and consistent culture of China has lasted longer than any other civilization, thousands of recorded years.
2. Although, see Net Neutrality
3. See Google, ChoicePoint, the credit companies, bureaus and banks, retailers, market researchers, and so forth. Even this website uses Google agent technologies to analyze the content of this page to serve advertising and provide the owner with in-depth, but anonymous, site usage and tracking information.
4. See FISA.
5. The Three Ts: Taiwan, Tian’anmen, and Tibet are well known taboo topics. In addition, Democracy, Falun Gong and the resilient cult of Mao remain profoundly censored topics in China.
6. If you’re a federal employee reading this, I just wanted to say “Hi.” Otherwise, you’re a computer program and you’ve probably already red-flagged this data.

Sporting provocative bullet points, this essay may not be new news, but it speaks refreshing truths while standing the test of time.

» Download essay [PDF]

This scholarly paper by was originally presented as a talk for the conference Mobile Communication: Social and Political Effects, held on April 29-30, 2003 in Budapest, and is collected in Mobile Democracy: Essays on Self, Society and Politics. We’ve come upon this text during regular research in pursuit of an interesting range of academic treatments concerning critical viewpoints of mobile media and electronic culture. The “Global Nomads in the Digital Veldt” essay stands out in the collection for its succinct expressions that thoughtfully document complex social changes in deceptively simple terms. Despite the arcane literary device in the title, the writing is downright accessible and the core message articulates a cogent framework for thinking about mobile technologies and society.

Meyrowitz’s use of the Veldt to encapsulate his message is regrettable. He plays off Marshall McLuhan’s coinage of “global village,” contrasting it with a reconceptualization of cyberspace as a primordial hunter-gatherer society. We agree with the idea, and we can even visualize the metaphors. But we’re belly-aching on the word-play, the sprechen-spiel. Perhaps it feels hokey and detached while attempting to persuade us with trite McLuhan soundbyte style textual imaging. Our cover image◊ might suggest our frustration with attempts to photo-illustrate the idea of a global nomad in the digital veldt. We also succumb to the tendency to pepper titles and blurbs with metaphors that amuse with clever yet esoteric cultural literacy for readers — something catchy that sums up an idea with a wordy picture.

Even for an academic paper, however, the reference is unnecessarily obscure, and diverts readers away from the simple elegance of his central point. That said, his word choice motivated us to conduct some cursory research into the term veldt, and so we sidebar now in order to reveal subtle ironies that redeem his transgression. Our electronically nomadic research trail begins with the Wikipedia→, jumping off to a copy of the Ray Bradbury short story→ of the same title, off to a quick cheat using a study guide→, and ending up at veldt.com→, which upon closer look, manages to poetically reinforce Meyrowitz’s metaphor. When you perform a View Source on the empty page, you discover the anonymous author’s epitaph embedded as a comment in the HTML source code:

veldt.com is dead.
old, useful content may come back to life, when i find the time.
i may post at veldt.vox.com
but no guarantees.

it’s not been all that fun, blogosphere.

Clearly, the proprietor of veldt.com has wandered on to greener pastures, perhaps disenchanted with the promise of online social networks only to find the veldt a hostile playground of disillusionment rather than the abundant network of social connections and benevolent discourse. There is rewarding irony in this discovery when you connect it linguistically with the use of Veld, the low German form of the word, which means, according to Wikipedia, at retrieval:

[...] a place that is generally overgrown or has gone fallow, such as a thicket or a field that has become overgrown from lack of maintenance.

Comparing the term “Digital Veldt” with the vernacular that emerged through unfortunate force of popular lexicon — “blogosphere” — we can’t decide which is worse. In fact, no one has even come close to coming up with a quality term for describing the electronic human condition, and do it with a pleasing aesthetic and semiotic.

Now this diversion aside, it’s still not clear after re-reading “Global Nomads” why the author selected the Veldt to image the lonely wasteland of electronic communications. Despite misgivings with the literary references, the essay still stands as an important discussion of how electronic media fundamentally alters humanity and its societies. We’ll get over our squabbling and get to the point by quoting the core passage of the essay where Professor Meyrowitz states his uniquely succinct observations:

From “Global Nomads”

A key feature of the electronic era is that most physical, social, cultural, political, and economic boundaries have become more porous, sometimes to the point of functionally disappearing. This seemingly simple proposition has far-reaching significance and implications. The relative products, services, and channels of communications have been leaking into each other. While the key change is literally happening “at the margins” of all social systems, the change is not simply something happening “out there.” As the margins change, the contents of all forms of human organization change. As a result, we are experiencing a dramatic shift in our sense of locale, identity, time, values, ethics, etiquette, and culture.

The increasing functional permeability of boundaries — combined with the continued physical existence of most of those same boundaries — explains the contradictory feelings we have in the early 21st century: Many things still seem the same, and yet everything is somehow changed. In our electronic landscape, we have thinner distinctions:

• between here and there
• between now and then (and yet to be)
• between public and private
• between male and female spheres
• between child and adult realms of experience
• between leaders and average citizens
• between office and home
• between work and leisure
• between business and customers
• between users and producers
• between news and entertainment
• between one field or discipline and another
• between different media genres
• between simulated and real
• between copies and originals
• between direct and indirect experience
• between biology and technology
• between marginal and mainstream

Your thirst for additionally succinct world-changing bullet points will be quenched, as the author delivers another set of bullets that further illustrate twenty-first century living. At least scan for the passage where he connects his idea of global nomads to September 11, 2001.

Response

More than any other essay in the collection, “Digital Nomads” provokes us enough to seriously consider undertaking the multimedia production of photo-illustrating all of these bullet-points, a sort of electronic media peer review. Or at least, we’re interested in annotating the quotation with commentary hyperlinks. We’re not through with this one yet. Too many unresolved considerations remain.

Credits

Essay quotations © 2003 by Joshua Meyrowitz.
Photo by Teseum via Flickr. Photo-illustration by mercurious via Creative Commons licensing.