Author: Biella Coleman


Uncontroversially controversial

Anonymous, most recently known for their digital protest interventions, are tough to pin down with definitive definitions. Perhaps one of the most uncontroversial statements one can nail on them is that they and their tactics are controversial. After yesterday’s extensive Anon-led distributed denial of service attacks prompted by the take-down of the popular file sharing site Megaupload, I thought I would ask CO readers to reflect on the DDoS as a political tactic. I have complied a few basic questions to help kick-start the discussion.

  1. Is it reasonable to compare a DDoS with civil disobedience or direct action?
  2. What might be an appropriate legal response for those campaigns that are deemed by courts as political protest? (Perhaps not answerable)
  3. How does the media and the public misunderstand these events? (and perhaps the media are the ones are responsible for the “success” of a DDoS campaign)
  4. Is the political effect of the DDoS primarily symbolic and a way for people to very quickly and collectively express their position on a matter?
  5. Is there anything lulzy about the DDoS? (Does that even matter?)
  6. How might the DDoS be deployed more ethically as political protest? Under what conditions or configurations might it be more permissible, palatable or effective? Or i it just too noxious and problematic to use for political purposes?


I will admit the DDoS is not what interests me the most about Anonymous, a bias clearly reflected in this piece I just published on them, but definitely worth pausing on for a bit after yesterday’s actions.




The idealization/practice nexus

Inspired by Orin Kerr’s question (“is your work focused on the internal narratives and ideologies that people use to describe/justify what they do, or is it focused externally on the actual conduct of what people do?”) below I will give a sense of how I walk the line between what we might call idealism and practice among the geeks and hackers I study.

One of the toughest parts about working with the type of technologists I focus on— intelligent, opinionated, online a lot of the time—is that many will unabashedly dissect my every word, statement, and media appearance. This attribute of my research, unsurprisingly, has been the source of considerable anxiety, only made worse in recent times with Anonymous as I have to make “authoritative” statements about them in the midst studying them, in other words, in the midst of having incomplete information.

All of this is to say I am deliberate and diplomatic when it comes to word choice, framing, and arguments. But most of the time examining practice in light of or up against idealism does not take the somewhat noxious form of “exposing” secrets, the implication being that people are so mystified and deluded that you, the outsider, are there to inform the world of what is really going on (there is a a long standing tradition in the humanities and social sciences, loosely inspired by Karl Marx and especially Pierre Bourdieu, taking this stance, not my favorite strain of analysis unless done really when needed and very well).

Much of what I do is to unearth those dynamics which may not be natively theorized but are certainly in operation. Take for instance the following example at the nexus of law and politics: during fieldwork it was patently clear that many free software hackers were wholly uninterested in politics outside of software freedom and those aligned with open source explicitly disavowed even this narrowly defined political agenda. Many were also repelled by the law (as one developer put it, “writing an algorithm in legalese should be punished with death…. a horrible one, by preference”) and yet weeks into research it was obvious that many developers are nimble legal thinkers, which helps explain how they have built, in a relatively short time period, a robust alternative body of legal theory and laws. One reason for this facility is that the skills, mental dispositions, and forms of reasoning necessary to read and analyze a formal, rule-based system like the law parallel the operations necessary to code software. Both are logic-oriented, internally consistent textual practices that require great attention to detail. Small mistakes in both law and software—a missing comma in a contract or a missing semicolon in code—can jeopardize the integrity of the system and compromise the intention of the author of the text. Both lawyers and programmers develop mental habits for making, reading, and parsing what are primarily utilitarian texts and this makes a lot of free software hackers, who already must pay attention to the law in light of free software licenses, adept legal thinkers, although of course this does not necessarily mean they would make good lawyers.

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Anthropological Introductions

I would like to thank Danielle Citron for the invitation to pen some thoughts here on Concurring Opinions, and letting an anthropologist enter this legal arena. For my first post, I thought I would ease in slowly and give a taste of my work on hackers, geeks, and digital activism along with some of the themes and issues I will likely explore over the month.

Being there are not a whole lot of anthropologists of my ilk ( as I like to joke, I am an “arm chair anthropologist” who sits in front of her computer to study the high tech digerati of the west), I often get asked how or why I came to the study hackers, many people assuming that I had some hacker relative in my life or was myself a budding young hacker, both of which were not the case. Fitting to this blog, I got to hackers via the law. In 1997, when my friend—an avid free software developer—found out I had a keen but personal interest in patents and access to medicine, he sat me down to tell be about this legal concept called the “copyleft.” It was one of those moments that I still remember so vividly as I was nothing but floored, astonished, excited, and puzzled, especially when I learned of the full depth and extent of  this legal alternative that had been dreamed up, not by lawyers, but by geeks and hackers.

Over the ensuing year, which was my first year at graduate school, I delved so often and deeply into the world of free software, it was clear that I had to change topics or else I ran the risk of never finishing my degree. Alhough I routinely encountered skepticism—and still do—I felt like I struck anthropological gold: there was too much to explore, prod, and examine so at the time, I took a one hundred and eighty degree u-turn and have never returned.

My work on free software spans various topics, from the prevalence of humor among hackers to the multi-year legal battles over the right to write and release source code in the face of new regulations such as the Digital Millenium Copyright Act. Most broadly, I use free software to examine the cultural life of liberalism. By liberalism, I do not mean what may first come to mind: a political party that in Europe is usually associated with politicians who champion free market solutions, or in the United States, a near synonym for the Democratic party; nor is it just an identity that follows from being a proud, card-carrying member of the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union) or the Electronic Frontier Foundation, although these certainly can be markers.  I take liberalism to embrace historical and present day moral and political commitments and sensibilities that should be familiar to most readers of this blog: protecting property and civil liberties, promoting individual autonomy and tolerance, securing a free press, ruling through limited government and universal law, and preserving a commitment to equal opportunity and meritocracy. These principles, which vary over time and place, are realized institutionally and culturally in various locations at different times, perhaps the most famous of these being the institutions of higher education, market policies set by transnational institutions, and the press, but are also at play on the Internet and with computer hackers, such as with those who develop free software, who have an accentuated commitment to free speech and make free speech claims to question what many see as not only the use but abuse of copyrights and patents. In one post I hope to examine and explore what it might mean to study liberalism from the vantage point of culture and hackers.

As I moved forward with my work on hackers it become increasingly clear that there was not only so much about this world that lay untouched and untapped (I think we know more about Papua New Guinea than hackers) but there are also many misperceptions and miconceptions shrouding our understanding of hackers due to existing literature and fantastical media representations. Part of the problem is that differences are often whitewashed away in favor of coming up with some simple and sanitized story about some unitary group of hackers. It is true that hackers can be grasped by their similarities: they tend to value a set of liberal principles: freedom, privacy, and access; they tend to adore computers—the glue that binds them together; they are trained in specialized and esoteric technical arts, primarily programming, system administration, security research, and hardware hacking; some gain unauthorized access to technologies, though the degree of illegality greatly varies; foremost, hacking, in its different forms and dimensions, embody an aesthetic where craft and craftiness tightly converge and thus tend to value playfulness, pranking,  and cleverness and will often perform their wit through source code or humor or even both: funny code.

Hackers, however, evince considerable diversity and are notoriously sectarian, constantly debating the meaning of the words hack, hacker, and hacking. I myself have been caught in the line of fire when hackers launch these accusations (“No, Biella, hackers are ‘breakers,’ not those who make ‘cool LED throwies in a hackerspace;” ‘No Biella, please get there is a distinction between ‘hackers and crackers’..”), so I will also be writing a post on this topic.

Most of my work on free software is completed, tucked and hidden away in academic journal articles read by perhaps a dozen or less people every few years, if even that many, and forthcoming in full-bodied form in a Creative Commons licensed book with Princeton University Press in the fall of 2012. But I am have become much more known for that which I once thought of as my niche, boutique side project: Anonymous. And it was so because for a a long period of time it existed as an esoteric, marginal sort of phenomenon: quite interesting, especially the activist manifestations (as Anonymous can be used for pure trolling) but over the last year exploded proliferated, and mushroomed in ways that make it very hard to pin down. In contrast to researching free software, which was relatively easy, working on Anonymous has tested my resolve so many times; they are truly difficult to study, for all sorts of reasons, some of which I will explore in a couple of posts I plan on dedicating to them as well.