In the Shadow of the Star Wars Kid

Andy Baio, who has been blogging under the name “Waxpancake” for the past couple of decades or so, writes about meeting with Ghyslain Raza, who gained internet fame — none of which he wanted — as the “Star Wars Kid” in 2003, after some students at his school uploaded a video clip of him pretending to be a Star Wars character in a light-sabre battle.

Baio talks about his role in helping the video go viral — one of the first to do so — and how bad he felt about the whole affair once he realized how Raza had been ridiculed (he left his school and eventually ended up in therapy, and more or less stopped using the internet for years).

I’ve never talked about it publicly, but I regret ever posting it. From the start, it was obvious it was never meant to be seen, and mirroring it on my site without consent was wrong in a way that I couldn’t see when I was in my 20s, one year into blogging. I removed the videos once it was clear how it was affecting him, but I never should have posted them in the first place.

Meeting Ghyslain gave me the opportunity to tell him all of that in person, as well as in my interviews, some of which made it into the finished film.As a side note, it was fascinating to get answers to questions I’ve wondered about for 20 years. Yes, Ghyslain actually received the iPod we sent him from the fundraiser, and used the gift cards we sent him to buy an iMac G4, both of which he kept to this day. He managed to avoid most of the remixes and media coverage, except for Arrested Development, which he watched live as it aired.

But more than anything, it was great to finally talk to him in person and see that he’s doing well. By all accounts, he handled everything that happened back then with a profound emotional maturity, despite how painful it was, and emerged on the other side with a uniquely interesting perspective that’s worth listening to.

Source: In the Shadow of the Star Wars Kid – Waxy.org

In the Shadow of the Star Wars Kid

Andy Baio, who has been blogging under the name “Waxpancake” for the past couple of decades or so, writes about meeting with Ghyslain Raza, who gained internet fame — none of which he wanted — as the “Star Wars Kid” in 2003, after some students at his school uploaded a video clip of him pretending to be a Star Wars character in a light-sabre battle.

Baio talks about his role in helping the video go viral — one of the first to do so — and how bad he felt about the whole affair once he realized how Raza had been ridiculed (he left his school and eventually ended up in therapy, and more or less stopped using the internet for years).

I’ve never talked about it publicly, but I regret ever posting it. From the start, it was obvious it was never meant to be seen, and mirroring it on my site without consent was wrong in a way that I couldn’t see when I was in my 20s, one year into blogging. I removed the videos once it was clear how it was affecting him, but I never should have posted them in the first place.

Meeting Ghyslain gave me the opportunity to tell him all of that in person, as well as in my interviews, some of which made it into the finished film.As a side note, it was fascinating to get answers to questions I’ve wondered about for 20 years. Yes, Ghyslain actually received the iPod we sent him from the fundraiser, and used the gift cards we sent him to buy an iMac G4, both of which he kept to this day. He managed to avoid most of the remixes and media coverage, except for Arrested Development, which he watched live as it aired.

But more than anything, it was great to finally talk to him in person and see that he’s doing well. By all accounts, he handled everything that happened back then with a profound emotional maturity, despite how painful it was, and emerged on the other side with a uniquely interesting perspective that’s worth listening to.

Source: In the Shadow of the Star Wars Kid – Waxy.org

War in Ukraine is the latest platform moderation challenge

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

On March 10, a Reuters headline announced that Facebook would temporarily allow users to post calls for the death of Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, and also “calls for violence against Russians” (Reuters later modified its headline to clarify that only posts calling for “violence against invading Russians” would be allowed under the new rules). These kinds of posts would normally fall into what Meta calls “T1 violent speech,” which is automatically removed, without exception. A few days later, Nick Clegg, head of global affairs for Meta, the parent company of Facebook, said the new rules would not allow users to call for the death of Putin or Alexander Lukashenko, the president of Belarus. Clegg also said that calling for violence against Russians would only be allowed for users in Ukraine, and only when “the context is the Russian invasion.”

Ryan Mac, Mike Isaac, and Sheera Frenkel pointed out in a New York Times story on Wednesday that the rules about allowing calls for violence against Putin and Lukashenko were actually changed on February 26, two days after Russian troops first entered Ukraine, according to documents that the newspaper had access to. “After reports suggesting the policy reversal would allow users to call for violence against all Russians—which Russian authorities called “extremist”—Meta reversed itself,” the Times reported. According to an internal memo seen by Bloomberg, Clegg told staff “circumstances in Ukraine are fast moving. We try to think through all the consequences, and we keep our guidance under constant review because the context is always evolving.”

Allowing users to post calls for violence isn’t the only example of normally forbidden content that platforms like Facebook now allow because there is a war in Ukraine. As Will Oremus noted in a Washington Post piece, if you posted content praising a neo-Nazi militia before the Russian army invaded Ukraine, Facebook would probably have blocked your post, or even suspended your account. But not now: the company changed the rules so that supporters of Ukraine could post about that country’s Azov battalion, a unit of the Ukrainian army that has a history of being associated with neo-Nazis (which has helped fuel Putin’s claim that his aim is to de-Nazify Ukraine).

Continue reading “War in Ukraine is the latest platform moderation challenge”

War in Ukraine is the latest platform moderation challenge

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

On March 10, a Reuters headline announced that Facebook would temporarily allow users to post calls for the death of Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, and also “calls for violence against Russians” (Reuters later modified its headline to clarify that only posts calling for “violence against invading Russians” would be allowed under the new rules). These kinds of posts would normally fall into what Meta calls “T1 violent speech,” which is automatically removed, without exception. A few days later, Nick Clegg, head of global affairs for Meta, the parent company of Facebook, said the new rules would not allow users to call for the death of Putin or Alexander Lukashenko, the president of Belarus. Clegg also said that calling for violence against Russians would only be allowed for users in Ukraine, and only when “the context is the Russian invasion.”

Ryan Mac, Mike Isaac, and Sheera Frenkel pointed out in a New York Times story on Wednesday that the rules about allowing calls for violence against Putin and Lukashenko were actually changed on February 26, two days after Russian troops first entered Ukraine, according to documents that the newspaper had access to. “After reports suggesting the policy reversal would allow users to call for violence against all Russians—which Russian authorities called “extremist”—Meta reversed itself,” the Times reported. According to an internal memo seen by Bloomberg, Clegg told staff “circumstances in Ukraine are fast moving. We try to think through all the consequences, and we keep our guidance under constant review because the context is always evolving.”

Allowing users to post calls for violence isn’t the only example of normally forbidden content that platforms like Facebook now allow because there is a war in Ukraine. As Will Oremus noted in a Washington Post piece, if you posted content praising a neo-Nazi militia before the Russian army invaded Ukraine, Facebook would probably have blocked your post, or even suspended your account. But not now: the company changed the rules so that supporters of Ukraine could post about that country’s Azov battalion, a unit of the Ukrainian army that has a history of being associated with neo-Nazis (which has helped fuel Putin’s claim that his aim is to de-Nazify Ukraine).

Continue reading “War in Ukraine is the latest platform moderation challenge”

BuzzFeed and the demands of being public

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

On Tuesday, Mark Schoofs, the editor-in-chief of BuzzFeed News, told staff that he and two other senior editors—Tom Namako, deputy editor-in-chief, and Ariel Kaminer, the executive editor of the investigations unit—are leaving the company, and the news division is being downsized via buyouts and/or layoffs, with most of the reductions coming in investigations, science, politics, and inequality. Schoofs said that BuzzFeed, the parent company, had “subsidized BuzzFeed News for many years,” and that the newsroom needed to “accelerate the timeline to profitability.” Jonah Peretti, CEO of BuzzFeed, said in a separate staff email that jobs would also be lost on the video team and the editorial team at Complex Networks, a company BuzzFeed acquired last year just after going public via a merger with a special purpose acquisition company or SPAC. Peretti said the newsroom needed to “prioritize the areas of coverage our audience connects with the most.”

During an all-hands meeting on Tuesday, following the resignations of Schoofs and the two other top editors, Peretti talked about leadership changes and said BuzzFeed was looking at “the addition of a dedicated business development group,” Laura Wagner of Defector reported. However, Peretti left the meeting abruptly and took no questions from staff, which seemed to irritate more than a few of those present. Julia Reinstein, a senior reporter at BuzzFeed News, said on Twitter: “I have worked at this company for nearly 7 years and I’ve never felt so disrespected than seeing my CEO log off without answering a single question about why he wants to gut my newsroom.” A staffer who was at the all-hands meeting described the atmosphere as “acrimonious.”

The cuts announced on Tuesday are nothing new for BuzzFeed. Last year, the company laid off 70 employees, including 47 HuffPost staffers based in the US, as part of what Peretti said was an attempt to “drive longterm sustainability” (BuzzFeed acquired HuffPost from Verizon in 2020). In 2019, BuzzFeed laid off more than 200 reporters, editors, and other editorial staff, including entire teams and large chunks of its international bureaus in the UK and Australia. Some wondered whether Facebook had helped cause the reductions by changing its news recommendation algorithms. But as I wrote for CJR then: “If the giant social network is partly to blame, it is mostly because editors at BuzzFeed yoked themselves so tightly to Facebook’s wagon, even after the Zuckerberg empire provided ample evidence it would move the goalposts at a moment’s notice.”

Continue reading “BuzzFeed and the demands of being public”

Of Substack, apps, and strategy

Substack, a hosting and publishing platform for email newsletters, took what seemed like an innocuous step last week: it launched a standalone smartphone app. Not surprising, perhaps, since almost every content startup has an app. Substack’s app, however, is somewhat different, since the company is a middleman that stands in between writers and their audiences, rather than a startup offering a service directly to consumers. Those differences have led to questions about Substack’s long-term strategy, and whether that strategy is good or bad for the writers who use it. Some of the concern stems from the fact that Substack has raised over $80 million in venture financing from a range of VC groups, including Andreessen Horowitz, a leading Silicon Valley venture powerhouse. The funding has given Substack a theoretical market value of $650 million, but that level of investment can put pressure on companies to meet aggressive growth targets.

Substack’s founders, for their part, argue that the app is just an extension of those goals. Hamish McKenzie, Chris Best, and Jairaj Sethi wrote in a blog post on the Substack site that their intention in starting the company was to “build an alternative media ecosystem based on different laws of physics, where writers are rewarded with direct payments from readers, and where readers have total control over what they read.” The app, they argue, builds on those ideas, in that it is designed for “deep relationships, an alternative to the mindless scrolling and cheap dopamine hits that lie behind other home screen icons.” Among other things, they say the app will amplify the network effects that already exist on Substack, “making it easier for writers to get new subscribers, and for readers to explore and sample Substacks they might otherwise not have found.”

Casey Newton, a technology writer who publishes a newsletter called Platformer (which is hosted on Substack) writes that the app is a symbol of “the moment in the life of a young tech company when its ambitions grow from niche service provider to a giant global platform.” Newton writes that it is possible that the Substack app could help writers build growing businesses by advertising their publications to likely readers (the company says that a person who has a credit card on file with Substack is 2.5 times more likely to subscribe to a new publication than someone who hasn’t). But it is equally possible, he says, that the app “makes publications feel like cheap, interchangeable widgets: an endless pile of things to subscribe to, overwhelming readers with sheer volume.” In other words, an app that serves Substack’s interests rather than those of its newsletter authors.

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

Continue reading “Of Substack, apps, and strategy”

As Ukraine war continues, Russia becomes increasingly isolated

Since the invasion of Ukraine began two weeks ago, Russia has found itself cut off from the rest of the world not only economically but also in a number of other important ways. In some cases, Russia is the one that has been severing those ties, as it did recently when it banned Facebook, because the company refused to stop fact-checking Russia media outlets such as Russia Today and Sputnik (so far, Russian citizens are still allowed to use WhatsApp and Instagram). Twitter has also reportedly been partially blocked in the country, while other companies have voluntarily withdrawn their services. YouTube has banned RT and Sputnik, and so has the entire EU. TikTok said on Sunday that while it is still available in Russia, it will no longer allow users to livestream or upload video from that country, due in part to a flood of disinformation, and to the arrival of a new “fake news” law in Russia that carries stiff penalties.

Traditional media companies have also withdrawn their services, and in some cases their journalists, from the country since the invasion, in part because of the fake news law. Bloomberg News and the BBC were among the first to stop producing journalism from within Russia last week. John Micklethwait, editor in chief of Bloomberg, wrote in a note to staff that the Russian law seemed designed to “turn any independent reporter into a criminal purely by association” and as a result made it “impossible to continue any semblance of normal journalism inside the country.” The New York Times said Tuesday that it had decided to pull its journalists out of Russia, in part because of the uncertainty created by the new law, which makes it a punishable offence to refer to the invasion of Ukraine in a news story as a “war.”

It’s not just individual social networks or journalism outlets; several network connectivity providers have also withdrawn their services from Russia. They’re the giant telecom firms that supply the “backbone” connections between countries and the broader internet, and removing them means Russia is increasingly isolated from any information on the war that doesn’t come from inside the country or from Russian state media. Lumen, formerly known as CenturyLink, pulled the plug on Russia on Wednesday, withdrawing service from customers such as national internet provider Rostelecom, as well as a number of leading Russian mobile operators. Competitor Cogent Networks did the same with its broadband network last week.

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

Continue reading “As Ukraine war continues, Russia becomes increasingly isolated”

Not your everyday secret entrance

At first, it looks as though the woman in this video is opening a small door leading down into a basement, but then she flips up a hidden panel in the floor that reveals steps down and around the corner is a tiny, two-storey theatre that dates back to the mid-1800s sometime. As far as I can tell, a wealthy family who lived above the theatre — which is in Ragusa, in Sicily, and is known as the Teatro Donnafugata (Theatre of the Missing Woman) — had a private entrance built that led to their private balcony. Could be related to the nearby Castello Donnafugata, a royal palace that was built by a baron and has 122 rooms.

He convinced people to drink tea instead of eating it

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.png

Sometime in his adolescence, in the 700s, Lu Yu, an aspiring writer and professional clown, had his first taste of tea soup. This probably occurred not far from Lu’s childhood home: a Buddhist monastery that overlooked a scenic lake in Central China. But Lu was unimpressed; he called the soup “ditch water.”

What bothered Lu was not the tea, but all the other ingredients. The offending brew contained scallions, ginger, jujube dates, citrus peels, Dogwood berries, and mint, all of which cooks “threshed” together to make a smooth paste. The result was a chunky soup, or even a sauce.

Lu Yu, in fact, adored tea—he’d go on to become the “tea god” and the world’s greatest tea influencer. But the tea he loved—brewed only from powdered tea leaves, without any other flavoring—was, in the grand sweep of human history, a recent invention. People in Asia, where tea trees are native, ate tea leaves for centuries, perhaps even millennia, before ever thinking to drink it. And it is Lu Yu who is chiefly responsible for making tea drinking the norm for most people around the world.

via Atlas Obscura

Not your everyday secret entrance

At first, it looks as though the woman in this video is opening a small door leading down into a basement, but then she flips up a hidden panel in the floor that reveals steps down and around the corner is a tiny, two-storey theatre that dates back to the mid-1800s sometime. As far as I can tell, a wealthy family who lived above the theatre — which is in Ragusa, in Sicily, and is known as the Teatro Donnafugata (Theatre of the Missing Woman) — had a private entrance built that led to their private balcony. Could be related to the nearby Castello Donnafugata, a royal palace that was built by a baron and has 122 rooms.

He convinced people to drink tea instead of eating it

Sometime in his adolescence, in the 700s, Lu Yu, an aspiring writer and professional clown, had his first taste of tea soup. This probably occurred not far from Lu’s childhood home: a Buddhist monastery that overlooked a scenic lake in Central China. But Lu was unimpressed; he called the soup “ditch water.”

What bothered Lu was not the tea, but all the other ingredients. The offending brew contained scallions, ginger, jujube dates, citrus peels, Dogwood berries, and mint, all of which cooks “threshed” together to make a smooth paste. The result was a chunky soup, or even a sauce.

Lu Yu, in fact, adored tea—he’d go on to become the “tea god” and the world’s greatest tea influencer. But the tea he loved—brewed only from powdered tea leaves, without any other flavoring—was, in the grand sweep of human history, a recent invention. People in Asia, where tea trees are native, ate tea leaves for centuries, perhaps even millennia, before ever thinking to drink it. And it is Lu Yu who is chiefly responsible for making tea drinking the norm for most people around the world.

via Atlas Obscura

Ukraine, viral media, and the scale of war

If there’s one thing Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and TikTok are good at, it’s distributing content and making it go viral, and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is no exception to that rule. Every day, there are new images and videos, and some become that day’s trending topic: the video clip of Ukrainian president Zelensky in military fatigues, speaking defiantly about resisting Russia’s attack; photos of Kyiv’s mayor, a six-foot-seven-inch former heavyweight boxing champion, in army fatigues; a man standing in front of a line of Russian tanks, an echo of what happened in China’s Tianenmen Square during an uprising in 1989; the old Ukrainian woman who told Russian soldiers to put sunflower seeds in their pockets, so sunflowers would grow on their graves; the soldiers on Snake Island who told a Russian warship to “fuck off.” The list goes on.

Not surprisingly, some of these viral images are fake, or cleverly designed misinformation and propaganda. But even if the inspiring pictures of Ukrainians rebelling against Russia are real (or mostly real, like the photo of Kyiv’s mayor in army fatigues, which was taken during a training exercise in 2021), what are we supposed to learn from them? They seem to tell us a story, with a clear and pleasing narrative arc: Ukrainians are fighting back! Russia is on the ropes! The Washington Post writes that the social-media wave “has blunted Kremlin propaganda and rallied the world to Ukraine’s side.” Has it? Perhaps. But will any of that actually affect the outcome of this war, or is it just a fairy tale we are telling ourselves because it’s better than the reality?

The virality of the images may drive attention, but, from a journalism perspective, it often does a poor job of representing the stakes and the scale at-hand. Social media is a little like pointillism—a collection of tiny dots that theoretically combine to reveal a broader picture. But over the long term, war defies this kind of approach. The 40-mile long convoy of Russian military vehicles is a good example: frantic tweets about it fill Twitter, as though users are getting ready for some epic battle that will win the war, but the next day the convoy has barely moved. Are some Ukrainians fighting back? Yes. But just because we see one dead soldier beside a burned-out tank doesn’t mean Ukraine is going to win, whatever “win” means. As Ryan Broderick wrote in his Garbage Day newsletter, “winning a content war is not the same as winning an actual war.”

Note: This was originally published as the daily newsletter for the Columbia Journalism Review, where I am the chief digital writer

Continue reading “Ukraine, viral media, and the scale of war”