James Taylor-Foster
Selected writing 2015 – 2023
  • About
  • Category
  • Title
  • Publication
  • Year
  • Writing
  • Media States, Or The State of Media
  • 2016
James Taylor-Foster
editor & writer of essays & reviews,
architectural designer,
maker of exhibitions
Selected writing 2015 – 2023
  • Media States, Or The State of Media

2016 has been a year of significant and uncelebrated milestones which, whether we have acknowledged them or not, serve as a reminder of the fundamental shifts that are redefining how we deal with information. Even the most devoted users of social media platforms, during their time spent head-bowed and nose-buried in blue light, might not have appreciated that Twitter, launched a decade ago on March 21, 2006, turned ten years old. On September 26 of that same year, Facebook—Twitter’s more pervasive elder sibling—officially opened registration to everyone of thirteen years and older and, since that time, have both stood at the vanguard of virtual expression, connection and communication. Facebook, the more viable of the two, has either bred, bought or is competing with every other popular platform of note (think of Instagram, Messenger, and WhatsApp) to establish an entire world of territories for presentation and reflection. The skill of professional broadcasting has become no less than an instrument of survival.

Social interaction on the Web, which has collapsed relationships between organisations and individuals, has been almost universally embraced for two reasons. The first is simple: without platforms like Twitter and Facebook—and here we might add Snapchat (the first transient media platform), WeChat (‘Weibo’, in China), VK (the Russian equivalent of Facebook) and Alphabet’s suite of tools to the mix—the fluidity of sharing that exists today would be impossible. The second reason is less simple to define: without a Like, a Favourite or a double-tap a post, for most, is considered to have failed. To save face one might delete the post altogether; the process of self-curation begins. This new reality, while harmless in itself, has fascinating implications in the wider media landscape.

To begin at the beginning, we must consider the core ideal of the World Wide Web: open access to information – the notion that everyone, be they in Tulsa or Timbuktu, can retrieve the same data on demand to stay informed, to relay messages, or to be entertained. While we have, on the whole, been remarkably successful in realising this objective, the frameworks we have to maintain it are fragile in ways that we might not at first consider. Following true Orwellian augury, some online voices are deemed more equal than others: Verification, for example—the process by which a platform authenticates an online persona irrespective of the number of Fans, Followers or Likes it or they have accrued2—is a tool deployed by social platforms which forges hierarchies in and beyond the digital sphere. While the little blue badge has become a highly coveted talisman for what it stands for (authenticity), the mechanisms behind its fount of honour—the likes of Twitter and Facebook—are opaque, relatively undefined, and privately controlled.

Ostensibly playful gimmicks of this sort run the risk of developing more sinister undertones under our very noses. Many recognise that governments in countries such as the PRC (China), the DPRK (North Korea), Burma, Cuba, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Syria, Tunisia and Turkmenistan openly monitor and survey, to varying degrees, all internal and global Internet traffic between, from and to their citizens. Most people living outside of these bubbles understand that this is not good for the majority of people living under this sort of surveillance; these same people, however, do not necessarily appreciate that this sort of modus operandi is far closer to home than they might at first realise.3 As the Web gradually matures from floundering infancy (2000-2013) into awkward adolescence (2014-), the question that we should look to frame revolves around this fledgling reality. How ethically conscious and morally tolerant do we want the Internet to be?

Two recent political upturns, each with international implications, serve as indicators. ‘Brexit’—the in-out referendum posed to British citizens on whether or not to abandon the European Union in the summer of this year—was defined by the Web. For those in the Remain camp, any notion of secession from the EU felt, for a long time, implausible. Those who supported the Leave campaign similarly felt that the majority of voters were on their side. The geographical isolation of opinion across the British Isles—London, Scotland and Northern Ireland voted to Remain; the rest of England and Wales voted to Leave—was delineated by social interaction – interaction mediated through social media. Echo chambers of opinion, cultivated by concealed algorithms and curated through our individual actions, meant that few were exposed to, or argued their point with, someone with a different point of view. By a simple click or a tap the opposition could be hidden, unfollowed, or blocked entirely from view. And so we reverberate around our own artificially filtered discourses.

The United States have witnessed a larger, more extreme, and far more complex case. The 2016 Presidential election between Donald J. Trump and Hillary Clinton represented a paradigm shift in whose voices can be heard, as well as whose voices are listened to. While both candidates employed Communication Directors, Trump also had a Director of Social Media, Daniel Scavino. His work involved “using Twitter to post images and videos covering Trump’s campaign rallies and for attacking Hillary Clinton, including rapid responses.”4 The secret is in the final clause of his job description – in spite of using Twitter as a vehicle for inflammatory, racist, sexist, false and bigoted accusatory remarks Trump’s campaign (the mechanisms by which he spread his message) felt, by many, to be more in touch with how they live their lives.5

Open access to information remains, therefore, inherently problematic. In an interview published by MIT’s Decentralized Information Group in 2006, Sir Tim Berners-Lee—the creator of the World Wide Web—argued that any form of regulation imposed to keep the Internet ‘open’ is regulation nonetheless. “Democracy depends on freedom of speech,” he said. “Freedom of connection, with any application, to any party, is the fundamental social basis of the Internet, and, now, the society based on it.”6 If we are living through the golden age of access to information, the ‘democratising data deluge’ must be read for what it is: cascades of data and networked communication that individuals, online platforms, media organisations and governments are each steadily coming to terms with. We should remember, and value, that the most astonishing miracle of the Internet is that it exists. The second most astonishing is that it persists.

 

First published in Volume 50. © James Taylor-Foster (2017).

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James Taylor-Foster
editor & writer of essays & reviews,
architectural designer,
maker of exhibitions
  • CuratorialI.
  • ProjectsII.
  • PublicationsIII.
  • SpeakingIV.
  • WritingV.
I.Curatorial
  • ✶ WEIRD SENSATION FEELS GOOD, London2022
  • ✶ Mira Bergh × Josefin Zachrisson: Utomhusverket2022
  • ✶ The Limits of Our World: LARP and Design2022
  • ✶ Solicited: Proposals2021
  • ✶ Studio Ossidiana: Utomhusverket2021
  • WEIRD SENSATION FEELS GOOD, Stockholm2020
  • Architecture Projects: Skeppsbron + Brunnsparken2019
  • Cruising Pavilion: Architecture, Gay Sex, Cruising Culture2019
  • The Craft of Swedish Videogame Design2019
  • Petra Gipp and Mikael Olsson; Sigurd Lewerentz – Freestanding2018
  • Space Popular: Value in the Virtual2018
  • You Are Not Alone2017
  • In Therapy2016
  • Keeping Up Appearances2015
II.Projects
  • ASMR, An Exhibition Trailer2022
  • Watch & Chill 2.0: Streaming Senses2022
  • ASMRology2021
  • Plug-in Poesi2020
  • Interdependence: Stockholm and pandemia2020
  • Future Architecture Rooms2020
  • SOFT GOSSIP2020
  • Mukbang Veneziano2020
  • Körper2019
  • Architecture on Display2018
  • Boxen at ArkDes2018
  • The Stones of Venice: A Kimono2017
  • Misunderstandings (A Reliquary)2016
III.Publications
  • ✶ softspot2021
  • Living on Water2017
  • Elemental Living2016
  • People, Place, Purpose2015
IV.Speaking
  • ✶ Scaffold #612022
  • Salons, The New Architecture School2022
  • ✶ Protagonist of the Erotic: A Bed2022
  • OAT Academy, Curating Architecture2022
  • ✶ Protagonist of the Erotic: An Island2021
  • A Future for Exhibitions2021
  • Future Architecture CEx2020 Focus Talks2020
  • Modevisningar är den flyktigaste formen av arkitektur2018
  • Exhibition Models2017
V.Writing
  • Wang & Söderström: Royal Chambers2023
  • Studio Ossidiana on the Sentimental Scale of the City2022
  • A Strange Sort of Weight2021
  • What’s Mine Is Theirs: an interview with Max Lamb2020
  • ✶ Screen Glow Sedation2020
  • No Time to Stand and Stare2020
  • On Norra Tornen2020
  • ✶ Don’t Fear a Snowflake2020
  • In Riga, A Conference On Architecture and Migration2019
  • On Practical Futurology2019
  • Foreword: On the Manifesto2019
  • Making Believe with Charlap Hyman & Herrero2019
  • ✶ To Speak As If In Capital Letters2019
  • Baltoscandia: A Complex Utopia2018
  • ✶ Virgil Abloh, Editor in Brief2018
  • A Weak Monument2018
  • Sigurd Lewerentz: Villa Edstrand2018
  • On the Cruising Pavilion2018
  • A Diary of Virgil Abloh’s First Louis Vuitton Show2018
  • ✶ The Boat is Leaking. The Captain Lied.2018
  • Concrete Mountain2017
  • ✶ On Liquid Modernity2017
  • ✶ #003399, #FFCC00; The Meaning of a Flag2017
  • Pillars of Society: “Jantelagen”2017
  • Exhibiting the Postmodern2017
  • Future Architecture and the Idea of Europe2017
  • Domains of Influence2017
  • Ingress: Black Rock City2017
  • In Dialogue With Gravity2017
  • Rem, Redacted2016
  • Media States, Or The State of Media2016
  • A Piece of England to Call One’s Own2016
  • Upon This Rock (I Will Build My Church)2016
  • The Design of the Species2016
  • Venice Isn’t Sinking, It’s Flooding2016
James Taylor-Foster
editor & writer of essays & reviews,
architectural designer,
maker of exhibitions
Selected writing 2015 – 2023
Writing
  • Media States, Or The State of Media 2016
  • for Volume #50, "Beyond Beyond"
Back

2016 has been a year of significant and uncelebrated milestones which, whether we have acknowledged them or not, serve as a reminder of the fundamental shifts that are redefining how we deal with information. Even the most devoted users of social media platforms, during their time spent head-bowed and nose-buried in blue light, might not have appreciated that Twitter, launched a decade ago on March 21, 2006, turned ten years old. On September 26 of that same year, Facebook—Twitter’s more pervasive elder sibling—officially opened registration to everyone of thirteen years and older and, since that time, have both stood at the vanguard of virtual expression, connection and communication. Facebook, the more viable of the two, has either bred, bought or is competing with every other popular platform of note (think of Instagram, Messenger, and WhatsApp) to establish an entire world of territories for presentation and reflection. The skill of professional broadcasting has become no less than an instrument of survival.

Social interaction on the Web, which has collapsed relationships between organisations and individuals, has been almost universally embraced for two reasons. The first is simple: without platforms like Twitter and Facebook—and here we might add Snapchat (the first transient media platform), WeChat (‘Weibo’, in China), VK (the Russian equivalent of Facebook) and Alphabet’s suite of tools to the mix—the fluidity of sharing that exists today would be impossible. The second reason is less simple to define: without a Like, a Favourite or a double-tap a post, for most, is considered to have failed. To save face one might delete the post altogether; the process of self-curation begins. This new reality, while harmless in itself, has fascinating implications in the wider media landscape.

To begin at the beginning, we must consider the core ideal of the World Wide Web: open access to information – the notion that everyone, be they in Tulsa or Timbuktu, can retrieve the same data on demand to stay informed, to relay messages, or to be entertained. While we have, on the whole, been remarkably successful in realising this objective, the frameworks we have to maintain it are fragile in ways that we might not at first consider. Following true Orwellian augury, some online voices are deemed more equal than others: Verification, for example—the process by which a platform authenticates an online persona irrespective of the number of Fans, Followers or Likes it or they have accrued2—is a tool deployed by social platforms which forges hierarchies in and beyond the digital sphere. While the little blue badge has become a highly coveted talisman for what it stands for (authenticity), the mechanisms behind its fount of honour—the likes of Twitter and Facebook—are opaque, relatively undefined, and privately controlled.

Ostensibly playful gimmicks of this sort run the risk of developing more sinister undertones under our very noses. Many recognise that governments in countries such as the PRC (China), the DPRK (North Korea), Burma, Cuba, Saudi Arabia, Iran, Syria, Tunisia and Turkmenistan openly monitor and survey, to varying degrees, all internal and global Internet traffic between, from and to their citizens. Most people living outside of these bubbles understand that this is not good for the majority of people living under this sort of surveillance; these same people, however, do not necessarily appreciate that this sort of modus operandi is far closer to home than they might at first realise.3 As the Web gradually matures from floundering infancy (2000-2013) into awkward adolescence (2014-), the question that we should look to frame revolves around this fledgling reality. How ethically conscious and morally tolerant do we want the Internet to be?

Two recent political upturns, each with international implications, serve as indicators. ‘Brexit’—the in-out referendum posed to British citizens on whether or not to abandon the European Union in the summer of this year—was defined by the Web. For those in the Remain camp, any notion of secession from the EU felt, for a long time, implausible. Those who supported the Leave campaign similarly felt that the majority of voters were on their side. The geographical isolation of opinion across the British Isles—London, Scotland and Northern Ireland voted to Remain; the rest of England and Wales voted to Leave—was delineated by social interaction – interaction mediated through social media. Echo chambers of opinion, cultivated by concealed algorithms and curated through our individual actions, meant that few were exposed to, or argued their point with, someone with a different point of view. By a simple click or a tap the opposition could be hidden, unfollowed, or blocked entirely from view. And so we reverberate around our own artificially filtered discourses.

The United States have witnessed a larger, more extreme, and far more complex case. The 2016 Presidential election between Donald J. Trump and Hillary Clinton represented a paradigm shift in whose voices can be heard, as well as whose voices are listened to. While both candidates employed Communication Directors, Trump also had a Director of Social Media, Daniel Scavino. His work involved “using Twitter to post images and videos covering Trump’s campaign rallies and for attacking Hillary Clinton, including rapid responses.”4 The secret is in the final clause of his job description – in spite of using Twitter as a vehicle for inflammatory, racist, sexist, false and bigoted accusatory remarks Trump’s campaign (the mechanisms by which he spread his message) felt, by many, to be more in touch with how they live their lives.5

Open access to information remains, therefore, inherently problematic. In an interview published by MIT’s Decentralized Information Group in 2006, Sir Tim Berners-Lee—the creator of the World Wide Web—argued that any form of regulation imposed to keep the Internet ‘open’ is regulation nonetheless. “Democracy depends on freedom of speech,” he said. “Freedom of connection, with any application, to any party, is the fundamental social basis of the Internet, and, now, the society based on it.”6 If we are living through the golden age of access to information, the ‘democratising data deluge’ must be read for what it is: cascades of data and networked communication that individuals, online platforms, media organisations and governments are each steadily coming to terms with. We should remember, and value, that the most astonishing miracle of the Internet is that it exists. The second most astonishing is that it persists.

 

First published in Volume 50. © James Taylor-Foster (2017).

1An earlier iteration of Facebook—“thefacebook”—launched in 2004.

2Twitter describe Verification as letting “people know that an account of public interest is authentic." Facebook defines it as declaring a “Page or profile for [a] public figure, media company or brand” as “authentic.”

3On November 19, 2016 The Guardian broke news that the government of the United Kingdom had passed a bill [the Investigatory Powers Act] authorising “the most sweeping surveillance powers in the western world" with minimal resistance from within and outside of Parliament.

4The People Behind Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton. Al Jazeera. [Accessed 19.11.2016]

5In November 2016, Wired compiled numbers on the effectiveness of Donald J. Trump and Hillary Clinton’s social media campaigns. On all but three of the criteria, the statistics from Trump's campaign were marginally ahead aside from one – the average monthly searches of the candidates’ full names. While Hillary had 165,000, Trump had 7,480,000.

6Berners-Lee, T. Net Neutrality: This is Serious. Decentralized Information Group (Massachusetts Institute of Technology). [Accessed 10.11.2016]

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