The Gates Foundation is the largest private foundation globally, and have pledged billions of dollars towards vaccine research over the past two decades in addition to founding Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance. According to the foundation, governments rushing to pre-buy doses of vaccines is not inherently bad: it is a needed investment in research and development (R&D) to secure a safe and effective vaccine, and helps to secure global manufacturing capacity for vaccines once they are developed. The level of investment to date in a COVID-19 vaccine is promising: more than 200 candidates are in development, with 45 of these currently in the clinical evaluation phase. However, without a plan for equitable global distribution of a vaccine, the pandemic death toll will be much higher. Research into global vaccine allocation points towards the fact that “it is better to vaccinate some people in all countries, rather than all people in some countries.” But as richer countries buy up the global supply, the question of how equitable vaccine rollout can be achieved remains.

The COVID-19 Vaccine Global Access Facility (COVAX) is a joint international initiative to make a vaccine globally accessible. COVAX positions a COVID-19 vaccine as a “global public good,” and intends to provide vaccines to more than 90 countries, via international cooperation and funding to “hedge bets” on multiple vaccine candidates as a group. Last month, the Canadian Coalition for Global Health Research (CCGHR) called on Canada to increase its contributions to the COVAX facility in line with its current spend for Canadian doses, and to also advocate for other countries to do the same. Further, CCGHR calls on Canada to speak out against vaccine nationalism: moving its efforts entirely in line with the goal of global equity.  As it stands, Canada has committed a total of $440M to the COVAX fund, with half of that earmarked for procurement of doses of vaccines for Canadians via COVAX. It’s optimistic, but not impossible, to consider that rich countries buying up doses will be able to distribute them “more equitably” at a later date. However, formal government statements on how vaccines will be distributed, even within Canada, are yet to be released. What’s more, prioritizing this type of a post hoc model reinforces a “charitable” model of global aid, rather than one rooted in global health solidarity. These contradictory actions indicate that Canada’s primary goals are nationalistic in nature.

While governments of wealthy nations can (and should) be criticized for undermining global efforts via vaccine nationalism, it is necessary to remember that the set of conditions entrenching global financial inequality is also responsible for creating and enabling vaccine nationalism. Even as the pandemic has set off an economic depression globally, some individuals and corporations have and continue to profit from the pandemic, including Amazon, Microsoft, Johnson and Johnson, and Pfizer (for a full list see here). Rather than reinvesting these profits into security for workers, the top 25 profitable companies have paid out the lion’s share of these profits to their primarily white, predominantly male, shareholders. 

Simultaneously, it has been noted by The Conversation that existing global debt structures make it largely unfavorable for many countries to take on COVID debt relief packages, with the consideration that taking on additional debt could be punitive later on. This rising insurmountable debt, paired with pandemic profiteering, underscore the fact that though there is a possibility for more equitable tax and debt policies to temper the effects of the pandemic globally, there are a select few who continue to benefit at the detriment of everyone else. In Winners Take All, Anand Giridharadas calls out the philanthropic system through this premise: it exists as a result of disparity, and as it increasingly takes on the role of “building the social safety net”, it entrenches this disparity. The global health financing system, too, is built to leverage resources existing within this ecosystem; and has thus increasingly relied on private philanthropy tempered by national investments in global aid in the recent past. 

While Bill Gates himself has been praised for everything from predicting the pandemic to being a “voice of reason” counter to those choosing not to take the pandemic seriously, there is a question of whether serious overreach on the basis of financial power has taken place over time. Lack of transparency and accountability structures enable philanthropic bodies to exert increasing influence, especially as their global profile is raised. Non-Profit Quarterly has highlighted that as both an investor and a funder in COVAX, and a leader in global health philanthropy, the Gates Foundation has “used its position to support and increase the power of corporate interests over that of national and international governments,”, especially as it potentially stands to gain considerably from the pandemic. 

So where do we go from here? As Canada struggles to navigate its role in these waters, and as scientists get closer to a viable vaccine candidate, the conversation surrounding vaccine supply and distribution will continue to be more pressing, especially after the current election focus fades. If we aspire to global equity, it’s worth our time to consider how private philanthropy operates as a stand-in for government intervention, and how this undermines political decision-making and solidarity in critical moments like this one. We need to combat vaccine nationalism, but to get there we also need to rethink structures for global solidarity. 

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“Eleven-year-old Amy starts to rebel against her conservative family’s traditions when she becomes fascinated with a free-spirited dance crew.” This is Netflix’s razed-down, after the fact description for Maïmouna Doucouré’s Cuties (Mignonnes), the film released at Sundance in January of this year, that offers a quick glance into girlhood today. It is also the film whose poorly-executed marketing release spurred mass Netflix cancellations, calls for the film to be removed, and even threats to Doucouré’s life. Netflix has since apologized for the way the film was presented (and thus interpreted) as promoting the sexualization of young girls. But, even in its current presentation of the film, Netflix seems to miss the mark: it’s not about oppressive family traditions, or rebelling, or “fascination.” As the French-Senegalese writer and director points out herself: the film is about being eleven, and what it’s like to try to find your own definition of womanhood when you’re presented with multiple cultural realities, expectations, and contradictions.

Watching some of the scenes in Cuties honestly made me want to dance, too. Fathia Youssouf’s portrayal of Amy sometimes took me back to when I was eleven, watching a crew of girls just a little bit older than I was with quiet admiration. Those girls were cool, they were a little mean, but most importantly, they could dance. They would take over using the CD player at after school, and “Goodies” by Ciara would be on replay as they practiced their choreography (the formation of who got to be front, right and left was pre-set and not subject to change). They’d usually do “One, Two, Step,” because they’d get in trouble for actually playing Goodies. I remember listening to Ciara, doing the choreo along in my head, feeling a little scandalous. It was fun, and that was the point. Doucouré’s film does a great job capturing these elements of girlhood: just wanting to dance, let loose, and have a crew of friends to call your own. 

Watching other scenes in Cuties, I was deeply upset and uncomfortable, seeing things from Amy’s perspective. The film cleverly implicates you, the viewer, forcing you to realize how much harsher the edges of reality are now. Set in the present-day, the girls spend most of their time together on cell phones — using them for music for their routines, to chat, and to promote their dancing. At first glance this doesn’t seem out of place, after all, that’s what we’re all doing on here, isn’t it? But without putting too fine of a point on it, the film shows what being on social media is like growing up in a pressure cooker — while it offers a space for personal expression and self-discovery, this comes with false senses of privacy and validation. In my case, if someone were to walk in on me secretly dancing to Ciara it would have been embarrassing for me, but temporarily. Our current collective reality continually highlights how relationships in the digital age are both facilitated and made more fragile as the personal becomes increasingly public. As Amy quickly finds out, the social consequences of failing to adjust and conform to unwritten social norms are harsher, and more enduring, than before. As she also realizes, the sexier you can be online, the better. Even if you’re only eleven.

As she also quickly realizes, the sexier you can be online, the better. Even if you’re only eleven.

Part of the problem, many will say, is that social media allows for exploitation. This is the explanation given for the rise to fame of young TikTokers such as Charli D’Amelio, and the panic over “copycats” amongst young girls aspiring to fame via decidedly sexual TikTok dances in the same way. In a different but similar vein, Jia Tolentino’s writing on the phenomenon of “Instagram Face” speaks to the subtle but powerful homogenizing force of technology in shaping beauty norms. A techno-deterministic view would say that these platforms are addictive, and that validation online creates powerful changes in brain chemistry, leaving people (especially young ones!) susceptible to manipulation and powerless against these forces in the long run. Likely, those pushing for less kids’ screen-time, or for fewer films by Maïmouna Doucouré, hold a similarly deterministic (and also paternalistic) worldview: that children are being corrupted and exploited by technology, and must be protected. I’m not convinced that this is true, and part of what I liked about the film is that it doesn’t pass a strong moral judgement on technology, nor does it strip away the agency of Amy or her friends as it shows their stories to the audience. 

A techno-deterministic view would say that these platforms are addictive, and that validation online creates powerful changes in brain chemistry, leaving people (especially young ones!) susceptible to manipulation and powerless against these forces in the long run.

There is a trend on millennial TikTok, where people, mostly women, showcase “GenZ doing an activity at age 11-13” (such as doing their hair), while looking extremely composed and chic; jump-cut to “me doing that same activity at age 11-13,” while embodying a more awkward, early 2000s cringe aesthetic. It’s a fun trend, I guess, if you’re trying to relish the nostalgia of your own preteen years. It’s less so when you strip these clips down to some of their other effects: by praising kids as chic and cool for being so “put together,” “grown up” or “mature,” it cements the idea that they should have these traits. In this instance, it isn’t TikTok shaping these ideals, though the platform amplifies it. In her book Race after Technology: Abolitionist Tools for the New Jim Code, scholar Ruha Benjamin implores us to reject techno-determinism — the idea that society is affected by technology, but doesn’t in fact shape technology itself. She highlights the fact that “anti-Black racism, whether in search results or in surveillance systems, is not only a symptom or outcome, but a precondition for the fabrication of such technologies.” Drawing from this line of thinking, one might instead conclude that, with racism, capitalism, and sexism as its preconditions: social media is built to maximize engagement in order to maximize profit, and in doing so will encourage people to engage with racist and sexist content. The nature of girlhood is not fundamentally changed by being online, just strongly reinforced. While Amy’s life changes as she starts to be more on the phone she steals, being online isn’t the focal point. The phone is swiped as a tool; to fit in and to express oneself — and as her social relationships shift and develop, it becomes increasingly necessary. Her “fascination with dance,” however, develops offline: she walks in on her future friend dancing with herself in their building’s laundry room.

The nature of girlhood is not fundamentally changed by being online, just strongly reinforced.

Benjamin later discusses how digital technologies allow multiple forms of “coded exposure,” how being online both increases visibility as well as renders some invisible, and facilitates surveillance. The effects that visual imagery have, however, in exposing difference, vary based on different codes — often rooted in racial and desirability politics. She refers to visual anthropologist Deborah Poole, “[who] in her study of colonial-era photography, argues that we must not assume a singular interpretation of the relationship between images and society, one that looks for an all-encompassing ‘gaze’ to exercise domination and control. Rather, it is important to investigate the social nature of vision, because, once ‘unleashed in society, an image can acquire myriad interpretations or meanings according to the different codes and referents brought to it by its diverse viewers.’” 

I particularly liked Cuties because in its ninety-six minutes of French dialogue, it shows us a snapshot of Amy coming into an extremely rapid understanding about the “social nature of vision,” as she navigates the shifting aspects of her own identity as a young Black girl. Starting to become a woman means something different at school, versus online, versus at home. It doesn’t skip the small details: showing us her tender relationships with her younger brother, her new friends, her mother, her family. It elegantly shows us the world from Amy’s perspective. And of course, Doucouré seeks to question the very same hyper-sexualization of girls that the film is being targeted for supposedly promoting. With Poole’s definition in mind, the answer to that question becomes more complex. The film asks: what are you going to do about it?

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These days, everything seems to be converging on the same themes. It’s not easy to tell whether all of our filter bubbles got smaller, or just dissolved into a larger one. Collective anxiety has been palpable. Screen time is at an all time high, with everyone and their grandparents now watching and/or making TikTok challenges, communally bingeing Netflix docuseries, in-between time spent connecting on Zoom calls. Everyone now either has an MD from Whatsapp University or is a Twitter Epidemiologist (except my Mom, who thinks social media is the true virus. Some days I feel she is maybe Not Wrong). Unsurprisingly, amidst the flurry of social connections taking place online, the quest for love via dating app use has also spiked. DW recently reported that both volume and length of Tinder messages have increased over the past weeks in Europe and the US. CNBC reported that users elsewhere are increasingly finding ways to connect more meaningfully – with increases in suggestions to chat over phone or video, play online games, or watch Netflix. And while March was the longest month ever, the current distortion of time has made finding Love Online During a Pandemic a meme already. Anecdotally, we (me) has also seen a spike in #quarantinebae TikToks. I did not personally contribute to this trend. 

While the first few weeks of social distancing emphasized the need to stay connected with each other via online platforms, the more recent past has raised questions related to privacy and surveillance in these same spaces. Earlier in February, we learned from Vox that Tinder has a ton of data on you, which it sells to advertisers and also uses to tailor your most ideal matches. Zoom announced last week that it would be freezing feature updates to focus on addressing privacy and security vulnerabilities in the software which allowed it to be easily exploited. And just as we all rushed onto TikTok, The Intercept reported in-depth on the level of discriminatory surveillance the platform deploys to suppress certain types of visual content and discourse – more specifically, removing “ugly” content and forcefully restricting some users’ audiences. These have included QTBIPOC communities specifically, as well as anyone who TikTok deems outside conventional beauty norms. It’s already known that the central feature of consumer-oriented apps like Tinder and TikTok is their proprietary algorithms, which work in mysterious ways to hold our attention and keep us in our self-selected filter bubbles. Full disclaimer: this month I have also been watching a lot of Westworld with my partner (who, not unlike a lot of my peers, I met online).

While the first few weeks of social distancing emphasized the need to stay connected with each other via online platforms, the more recent past has raised questions related to privacy and surveillance in these same spaces.

Running in parallel to the call to connect online has been the use of communal shaming to reinforce social distancing, subconsciously encouraging us to watch each other closely. The line between holding each other accountable and policing our communities has started to blur. What’s more, there is a ubiquitous and highly ominous discourse around the need for (and existing lack of) high quality public health surveillance and testing. Altogether, this has bred a certain type of confusing malaise around being watched and watching others, and even more confusingly – how much we might want either of these things. For me a microcosm of all this is our current communal obsession with Tiger Kings; we can’t look away, and we don’t want to.

In Kate Folk’s short story “Out There,” she explores the perils of online dating in the era of surveillance capitalism. What’s worse: getting catfished by a robot that holds the mirror to our own preferences, or experiencing the raw dishonesty and callousness of other humans stumbling through the dating maze? We aren’t sure, and we can extrapolate the question to outside of the dating context: while mass surveillance enables abuses of power and can keep silos cemented, we are the ones setting these seeds. What our online realities are reflecting on the topics of surveillance, policing, and discrimination aren’t any different from the disparities and inequalities being currently laid bare by our current crisis, and the attempted responses to keep big capital afloat. (I’m not going to go and say: thank you virus for the collective consciousness raising that has come out of this! Because fuck that, and it’s not clear what direction we are even headed in). But it is true that “many people are realizing that capitalism is unequipped to meet the needs of people,” as Angela Davis stated at a widely-attended online teach-in. What I will say is that the level of mutual aid organizing, efforts to bring community conversations together on an even larger scale, and the ability to easily “check-in” are sustaining spirits for me (in addition to the occasional TikTok). 

When I first set out to write, I wanted to write about something outside of the overbearing topic that is the pandemic. Something about Tinder and data – I followed the lead of Judith Duportail, and requested that Tinder send me all my old data. While I’ve been in a nostalgic mood of late  – re-reading old stories for comfort – I don’t necessarily recommend diving into the level of personal psychoanalysis that looking at your old dating app data has to offer (such as: the ratio of swipes left to right I’d run through the app on any given day [and why those days anyways?], all my interests, every GIF the single version of myself ever sent). Physicians everywhere have warned about the impact isolation has on mental health, and the collective impact on mental health to come in the future. It doesn’t feel like now is the moment to raise all of the alarms to cancel some of the platforms that are keeping us together, but we do have to consider that we’re all particularly vulnerable to having existing gaps in our already-lax privacy laws exploited. The declaration of “a state of emergency” gives the state more permission to waive regulations in order to better engage with citizens’ private lives and implement pandemic control measures. These added permissions make existing surveillance apparatuses (even those controlled in the private sector) potential windows to exploit.

It doesn’t feel like now is the moment to raise all of the alarms to cancel some of the platforms that are keeping us together, but we do have to consider that we’re all particularly vulnerable to having existing gaps in our already-lax privacy laws exploited.

It seems there is a lot to consider at all times, and the distance can induce the paralyzing feeling that there’s either not much we can do, or too much to be doing to prepare ourselves for the future. We have been mostly taking it day by day. Davis reminds us that now is the moment, for those of us with this ability, to act in international solidarity, to do what we can for our collective mental health, and to keep envisioning what we want things to look like on the other side. 

Resources:

Mutual Aid Facebook Group (Montreal)

Montreal Mutual Aid Links

Freelancer resource support list

Mental Health Resources (courtesy of Ayana)

Mental Health Caregiving  

Youth Information Services- Mtl 

Reading:

*If you’re interested in the topic of surveillance and policing, especially in Canada, I highly recommend reading Desmond Cole. If you are interested in reading more about algorithmic bias, check out Safiya Noble. If you are interested in reflections on international response and where to go from here – Arundhati Roy on the pandemic’s toll in India, and its opportunities for reflection. 

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On Friday, January 31, people turned out en masse to protest against police presence in the New York City transit system, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA). The protests included mass turnstile hops across the city, campus walkouts and park assemblies, and speak-outs in stations and on campuses against police presence in schools and subways, and originally, a final mass turnstile hop at Grand Central Station at 5:00 p.m. This final act of protest did not take place due to heavy police presence. Arno Pedram, a reporter on the event said “packs of police officers [were] waiting at locations, about 50 at the Grand Central turnstiles, another 50 in the main concourse, and even more in Times Square.” Close to 500 protesters continued to relocate, ending up in Bed-Stuy. A representative from Decolonize This Place noted that folks were able to take part in mass turnstile hops at multiple stations elsewhere, since the protests were decentralized, prior to some stations being shut down. In addition to protest signs and widespread graffiti, demonstrators posted examples on social media of methods to keep the turnstile system inactive, such as propping exit doors open and filling swipe machines with Super Glue. Dubbed #J31 / FTPIII, this was the third in a series of “fuck the police” (FTP) protests. The city-wide day of transit action was carried out to embody the following demands: 1. Cops out of the subway. 2. Free Transit. 3. End the harassment of vendors and performers. 4. Full accessibility for people of varying abilities.

1. Cops out of the subway. 2. Free Transit. 3. End the harassment of vendors and performers. 4. Full accessibility for people of varying abilities.

These protests have been facilitated by Decolonize This Place, an action-oriented decolonial movement in New York City. The organization “brings together many strands of analysis and traditions of resistance: Indigenous insurgence, black liberation, free Palestine, free Puerto Rico, the struggles of workers and debtors, de-gentrification, migrant justice, dismantling patriarchy, and more.” Ahead of #J31, the collective provided public information surrounding the MTA, the NYPD, and ways to organize autonomously and safely via social media and in a series of communiques.

The first series of FTP protests took place on November 1, 2019, as an emergency action organized in response to circulating videos of police brutality in the MTA against Black and Brown youth. On November 22, 2019, a second action was carried out in even larger numbers, met with a more extreme militarized response and ultimately resulted in 58 arrests. In December 2019, the MTA board affirmed Governor Cuomo’s call for increased crackdowns on fare evasion and attacks on transit workers through the addition of 500 cops into the MTA system. Fare evasion is cited as a major cause of revenue loss – $240M USD from March 2018-2019 – for the MTA, which remains heavily in debt. Proposed installation of surveillance cameras to cover turnstiles at all subway stations is earmarked at approximately $250M, and the cost of additional officers pushes the MTA deficit to $1B. Amidst this, multiple officers have confirmed being explicitly told to target Black and Hispanic people to fulfill arrest quotas. Though predicated on financial rhetoric, the crackdown on fare evasion indexes a focus on security through the criminalization of racialized people and those living in poverty. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has spoken out against Cuomo’s transit plans, demanding an improvement in transit services in lieu of policy which targets racialized individuals, and criminalizes poverty by burdening those who can’t afford a $2.75 fare.

In an interview with the Daily, Decolonize this Place said that the response to the November 1 action was much greater than anticipated, which speaks to the fact that the issue of over-policing in subways resonates across the city. They shared that the formation of FTP action to date has been in line with their principles of unity, enabling individuals to take action in methods that work best for them.

“The vision on the horizon is for diversity of liberation, which requires diversity of tactics. Organize with the crew you trust, your friends, and organize actions that are appropriate. This builds horizontal power. We are all pushing where we are, in the positions we are in, with the capacity that we have, with the skills that we hold. By pushing at every front, this allows people to participate at the levels that they are at, which does help a large number of people to participate.”

Social media has been a central part of this strategy, acting as a “feedback loop” for both information sharing and organization. “Social media is a way to put out our own narrative – it needs to feed back into organizing and what is happening on the ground, in terms of actions, and then in turn to let people know about the action.” Because the accounts have been frequently blocked and shadowbanned, the organizers have several backup accounts to continue circulating information.

In addition to this online resource presence, the week ahead of #J31 was a week for organizing and trainings. “These have been a place to plug in [to what’s going on], workshop ideas for action, and have training around knowing your rights, and in medical responses in case something happens.”

NBC reported early Friday that command staff within the NYPD had been told that, “while we will always protect people’s right to protest, illegal conduct that puts law-abiding community [sic] and cops in danger will not be tolerated in New York City.” With respect to the mass arrests made during FTPII, Decolonize this Place highlights that a large part of the action has been jail support for those arrested. “Action isn’t over until everyone is out. We are tracing these people so we know where they are in the system.” Following the Grand Central assembly at 5:00 p.m., protesters moved towards Brooklyn. As of 7:00 p.m. on Friday, January 31, social media reports indicated heavy police presence and arrests being made at Grand Central Station, with police barricading Bryant Park station, where a mass fare evasion took place. Photos and video footage shows police using excessive force against protestors.

“Organize with the crew you trust […] and organize actions that are appropriate […] We are all pushing where we are, in the positions we are in, with the capacity that we have, with the skills that we hold.” – Decolonize This Place

Though Canada often positions itself as more progressive than its southern counterpart, the increased policing of racialized bodies in transit systems is blatantly apparent in Montreal. In April of last year, the Board of Directors of the Montreal Transit Authority (STM) proposed a plan to grant police-like powers to STM transit inspectors. Racial profiling by the Service de Police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM) and the brutalization of fare evaders by STM inspectors has been widely documented in qualitative research and on social media. While Quebec does have a police watchdog, The Bureau des enquêtes indépendantes (BEI), it has been questioned on its efficacy relative to other police watchdogs nationally and on whether it is effectively serving its function. Simultaneously, city officials have taken steps to acknowledge that discrimination is taking place. In summer 2019, a Supreme Court Judge authorized a racial profiling class-action lawsuit launched by the Black Coalition of Quebec against the City of Montreal, acknowledging that racial profiling within the SPVM is a problem. Shortly thereafter, results of a report studying police interceptions in Montreal over the period of 2014 and 2017 were publicly released.

The report found that Black and Indigenous peoples were four times more likely to be subject to street checks than white people, while Arab people were were two times more likely. Montreal police chief Sylvain Caron acknowledged the report’s findings, but attributed them to individual implicit biases on the level of police officers, rather than institutionalized racism. “We don’t have racist police officers, we have police officers who are citizens, and who, inevitably, have biases like all citizens have.”

Taken in contrast with the explicit targeting of Black and Brown bodies by the NYPD, the narrative attributing increased checks on racialized bodies to implicit bias tries to negate the possibility of systemic racism. Balarama Holness, an educator, law student, and activist with Montreal en action, spoke with the Daily about the status of racial profiling in Montreal. He commented that the claim that the numbers outlined in the report are attributable to implicit bias alone is false. He explains that where those in positions of power are given authority to systematically act (and enforce) their own implicit biases, it becomes an explicit bias. “The action taken by police in New York has been overt, but in Montreal it is the same thing. There is a set of normative legal rules within the system that permits that – it is a vicious cycle, and a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

This self-fulfilling prophecy is also reflected in the report to the SPVM. Between the period of 2014 to 2017, targeting also increased – according to the report’s analysis, an Indigenous woman was three times more likely to be stopped in 2017 than in 2014. Overall, street checks increased during the four year period, from 19,000 per year to more than 45,000 per year. The heavier policing of areas deemed “high risk” leads to more arrests, causing the overrepresentation of people from those areas in the system. Holness adds that the structural nature of systemic racism and cycles of economic inequality mean that proposed increased transit policing is especially confusing for many people. “Many young people [from all over the city] take the Metro and appear to be ‘loitering,’ and by [VP Craig Sauve of the STM] pushing for more police-like powers, the state and the STM and the SPVM are taking more from a community that needs space to breathe.”

The Daily asked Holness about potential tension in public perceptions of the police. “The state is the creator of culture, and they create the culture of how we see them. They are often wearing army uniforms, which sends a specific message. It is confusing to be called ‘agents of peace,’ and to be wearing military uniforms. This to me speaks volumes, because it tells us what you think about yourself in that position. Civil disobedience can take many forms, but ultimately the form of protest is the message.”

In Montreal, anti-racism and antidiscrimination activists have pushed hard for system-wide change, leading to a public consultation on systemic racism and discrimination led by the Office de la consultation publique (OCPM). Montreal en action, led by Holness, began collecting signatures in 2017, ultimately collecting 22,000 signatures to mandate the consultation process. The consultation has offered a forum to citizens to challenge the city on its approach to accessibility, diversity and inclusion, and the systemic barriers racialized citizens face. The OCPM’s final recommendations to the city will be released in March, 90 days after the final consultations were held. Holness is hopeful that the recommendations will be impactful. “They should have enough teeth to move the city forward, and will have an effective language. As they are built around municipal jurisdiction, [the recommendations] will be specific enough to implement and measure success throughout the years.” Ahead of the recommendations, the Quebec Human Rights Commission urged Montreal to set a precedent for the rest of Quebec by taking concrete action to address systemic discrimination. They recommended the City of Montreal, SPVM, and STM “take steps to serve the ethnocultural and diverse population they serve,” through removing employment barriers and discriminatory policies, and increasing access to housing.

Where those in positions of power are given authority to systematically act (and enforce) their own implicit biases, it becomes an explicit bias.

While the specific demands and approaches taken by activists in Montreal and New York are divergent, the parallels between them highlight a global and urgent movement towards decolonization of our shared spaces. Through different instruments, the impacts of these acts of civic action and engagement speak to the power citizens hold to enforce accountability. “People are becoming more and more aware that participatory democracy is a continued daily activity,” says Holness. “People in political positions of power don’t have issues in their core interests unless it is something that will get them elected. Civil society is going to decide which and whether or not issues get taken up.”

A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that the mass turnstile hop at Grand Central station at 5:00 p.m. took place. However, due to heavy police presence, Decolonize This Place protestors were unable to carry out this action.

The post From the MTA to the STM: Decolonizing Public Space appeared first on The McGill Daily.

This strikes a chord – many of us can unfortunately relate to the gut-wrenching feeling of having your experiences reduced or dismissed. For anyone seeking mental health support, the risk of experiencing this feeling carries much higher stakes. Fears of being misheard, questioned in your experience, or the emotional burden of needing to explain are all a part of what Parneet describes as the effects of subtle stereotyping of racialized people [predominantly by white professionals] in counselling. This gulf in understanding is experienced not just by patients, but also by practitioners. The inability to own the complexity of your own story in a therapeutic space is a major barrier to getting or seeking healthcare.

“Private practice can be very isolating – you don’t get a lot of socializing time. Even though you’re working with people all day, you’re not necessarily working around people all day. I was wanting to spend time with other practitioners who understand the sacredness of the work and its weight. And not only from working with racialized clients, but as a racialized person myself – there is a way that I would want my colleagues to empathize and understand me as well. I wouldn’t want to have to explain myself continually to other [white] colleagues. There is something powerful about unspoken understanding.”

“There is something powerful about unspoken understanding.”

I ask Parneet how sharing an identity with clients impacts their practice, and how clients might feel about it. They share that in their experience, having a common identity eliminates shame surrounding culturally-specific struggles. “I’ve heard from clients with a racialized or minority identity that they feel scared to say ‘this is what’s happened in my family, or my community’, because they don’t want white counsellors to paint with broad strokes that this might be all Indian families, or Ethiopian families, or whatever it might be. And I can think of comments from people who have worked with white therapists, who will respond to a client with ‘well this makes sense, since you come from XYZ identity.’ These are subtle types of stereotyping that arise when you don’t work with diverse clients, or don’t have diverse friends which might sensitize you to their experiences.” When I ask Parneet about cultural competency training, they tell me that beyond professional schooling, updating diversity training is up to each individual to undertake on their own. “It is a fascinating profession, in that we really are on our own.”

–

Of course, it’s not just doubts about the safety and comfort of the therapy space that pose a barrier to seeking care. While racialized therapists might be fewer in number and difficult to find, therapy costs can also be exorbitantly high, putting it out of reach. For those living with a disability and those living in more rural areas, physical access to therapy spaces, especially culturally-competent ones, can be an issue. Stigma around discussing and seeking mental health care is an ongoing barrier to accessing healthcare. In this landscape, online support and resources have rapidly emerged as a potential solution to increasing access to care.

Eric Coly is an LA-based entrepreneur originally from Senegal who is seeking to close the therapy gap for racialized individuals and minorities, with a focus on intersectionality of identity. The platform AYANA Therapy is an app that seeks to connect individuals with accessible therapy where they find their own identities represented. Ayana asserts that “finding the right therapist is a right, not a privilege.” Following a detailed questionnaire, users are matched with a licensed therapist. The platform provides individuals with the option to call, video call, or text with the provider they are matched to.

Originally set to roll out in Fall 2019, the app will launch early this year. The delay is largely due to the overwhelming response from both clients and counselors. “We had 6500 emails in two and a half weeks that came in, and it spoke to the high demand and the gravity of the situation that exists regarding lack of access to mental health,” Eric explains. “We are dealing with a rather disappointed audience that has been ignored and ostracized [by the healthcare system] – so we need to be able to show up with as high a level of integrity as possible, which means – at minimum – being able to respond with as many counselors as possible.” He tells me that they already have around 80 counselors, with double that in applications received.

I asked Eric about the match process, and what an emphasis on intersectionality means in that context. “Our objective is to make intersectional counselling available to those who want it. So if you tell me, “Look Eric – I am Muslim, biracial, and gay,” and it’s important for you to have a therapist who understands this well, we want to make that accessible for you. The most important pillars of the questionnaire are: race, ethnicity, gender orientation, and religion, all along specific modalities. After we ask for your ethnicity, we ask you how important it is for you to have a counselor of the same ethnicity as you. The answers to the questionnaire are nuanced, with a gradation of answers (very important, not important at all, etc.). The use of nuance is pretty important to us.” The match process, and emphasis on individual experience, is what sets Ayana apart from other – predominantly white – online therapy platforms. While some helpful resource options specific to certain groups exist (such as Therapy for Black Girls), there continues to be a need for intersectional options. “From a mathematical standpoint, to optimize matchmaking, we have to have enough of a sample to pick from, and I didn’t feel as though we currently have that. Which is [also] why we are pushing rollout, so we can be able to increase the number of counselors to 400.”

While there will be costs associated with accessing the app, in order to pay the licensed therapists providing services, Eric described a need to make the platform financially accessible. “Often those who need it the most are those who can least afford it, and for me, part of being able to base success is if someone from a local community who is low-income is telling me that ‘you’ve partnered with such-and-such foundation that has enabled me to have access to your product.’ That to me is so important.” Ayana is currently speaking with non-profit and community-based organizations for them to potentially assist in subsidizing access for lower-income clients.

Coming originally from a background in finance and fashion, Eric tells me that he is a “neophyte in this space.” It is passion for the project that has fuelled him to overcome the obstacles presented with learning and making moves in this [health] industry, which hasn’t been an easy journey. “Instead of looking up at the mountains (obstacles), I have really focused on the quarterly goals. Our focus is in mental health, which to me does not get enough attention in this country. It is very much looked at through the lenses of classism and racism – and the way people see cancer in this country is not the same way people see mental health issues. For example, half of the people who are homeless in L.A. have mental health issues. A substantial proportion of those people are black. So this has really fuelled my passion, as did my own issues with mental health. There is a strong relatability between myself and the people I’ve been fighting for.”

–

As more options for access to therapy open up, it’s worth remembering that the modality of modern psychology is eurocentric in itself and might not suit everyone. Parneet shares that “Psychology is very white, but we are seeing more East Asian/African and Latin American practices starting to show up that are not necessarily psychology, but are absolutely related to mental health. The older I get, and the more people I work with, and with my own healing journey, it is clear that it is all related, even if it’s not “mental health” per se. Our past traumas, how we eat, who we live with. It’s fascinating because in biological notions of health – everything is kept separate. In reality it makes a huge difference if the place you come home to is safe and supportive, yet that’s something that might not even get asked on an intake form for counselling […] I am happy to say that there is a lot more alternative medicine and wisdom (such as naturopathy, homeopathy and Ayurveda) showing up in a more mainstream way.”

As more options for access to therapy open up, it’s worth remembering that the modality of modern psychology is eurocentric in itself and might not suit everyone.

That said, for those of us seeking therapy, it can be difficult to know where to look. Parneet shares several resources for Montrealers with diverse identities to access (linked at the end of this article, many of which provide sliding scales), emphasizing that though there may not be a physical collective space for therapy in Montreal, there is ample online and collective support to find what you might specifically be looking for. “The online space broadens the types and price of resources available. For example, there are counselling services online where you can purchase 20 minutes with a counselor, which is small but can go a long way if that’s all you can afford.” The Facebook group Montreal Healing Space, and others, present a powerful part of online communities. In internet forums, support can be “fast-tracked” – you can simply put an ask out for something specific you’re seeking, and ideally someone else can point you in the right direction. Through an informal vetting process online, such as Facebook forums, trust is built around certain service providers in the city.

Eric says that though he keeps getting emails from Canadians, Europeans and Carribeans, the immediate needs and focus for Ayana are local and domestic to the United States. “In the future, yes of course. Toronto is one of the most diverse cities in the world. The country has yet to keep up with its demographic growth, and in terms of services many people of colour are not being served properly. There are many reasons why Canada would be a great market for Ayana. I just want to make sure we do it right.”

Montreal Resources:

The Argyle Institute- Pride Team

The OPEN Centre

Decolonizing Therapy

MUSIC (McGill University Sexual Identity Clinic)

Erratum: It was written that Parneet has a Master’s in Counselling Psychiatry. The correct title is a Master’s in Counselling Psychology. Mentions of ‘psychiatry’ or ‘therapist’ were replaced with ‘psychology’ and ‘counsellor.’

The post Seen and Heard appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Though the price point for the licensing remains undisclosed, it is troubling to learn that 23andMe is now turning larger profits made possible by its database of genetic material, effectively signed over by DNA test kit clients. In the terms and conditions for kit use, clients consent to their saliva samples being used for genetic research. More than 10 million test kits have been sold over the company’s 13-year tenure (at a price point of $129 CAD for an ancestry kit, and $249 CAD for both “health” and ancestry), with 80% of clients consenting to their data being used for research. Personal health and fitness companies such as 23andMe, Fitbit, and Apple Health, have all been well-established as viable partners for pharmaceutical companies looking to leverage biodata for research and drug development. While the in-house development of the IL-36 blocker is a first for 23andMe, the company has long had ties to the pharmaceutical industry: they’ve been partnered with drug company GlaxoSmithKline for several years, for a $300M stake in the company. Similarly, Fitbit inked a partnership with Pfizer and Bristol-Myers-Squibb for research into atrial fibrillation and stroke. The ancestry DNA company, valued at $2.5B, has allegedly been transparent in its aims to profit from both (1) indicating genetic disposition to certain diseases and (2) creating drugs to treat them. However, the pretenses under which individuals engage with personalized medicine differ vastly from the pretense of research participation.

Though client data use is predicated on principles of informed consent, the rhetoric surrounding “collecting biodata” and the implications of its use for profit is drastically different from the marketing rhetoric used by personalized medicine. The marketing tactics typically used by 23andMe have included such promises as: individual control in the face of medical uncertainty, knowledge of personal identity through understanding of heredity and ancestry (see: this particularly bizarre ad from 2011), and kinship with others over shared genetics, (see: Elizabeth Warren’s claim to Native American ancestry), and their relatively low price point of the test kits made them marketable as “stocking stuffers” or gifts to a loved one. Researcher Kim Tallbear, from the University of Alberta, writes in her book Native American DNA: Tribal Belonging And The False Promise Of Genetic Science that some DNA kit users come from families fragmented by colonialism, with gaps in their ancestral knowledge that they hope to fill. Thus, these marketing tactics prey on the health insecurities and vulnerabilities of people hoping to know more about their heritage, ultimately to provide information with little actionable insight. It has also been widely documented that at-home genetic tests are not always accurate and are not diagnostic tools in and of themselves, with many concerns brought about by the company’s tests mandating follow-up and a lab-based diagnostic with a medical professional. While the tests might provide novel information regarding your identity and makeup, this information is not necessarily reliable or useful, and can even introduce anxieties.

These marketing tactics prey on the health insecurities and vulnerabilities of people hoping to know more about their heritage, ultimately to provide information with little actionable insight.

The intensity of the marketing rhetoric of DNA test kits to date is also reflected in the string of controversies surrounding DNA testing over the years. The link drawn between “racial ancestry” and shared genetic biomarkers across populations (how 23andMe comes up with its “ancestry” categories and calculations) has been called into question for reinforcing the concept of race as having biological foundations, rather than as a social construct. Do DNA test kits have a role in accelerating a rise in the rhetoric of race science and eugenics? The role DNA kits have played in affirming or negating identity – which has been in turn used in the arena of identity politics – has also been questioned and ridiculed since such instances as Elizabeth Warren’s claim to Cherokee ancestry. The narrative around point-of-use genetic testing has come to be tied heavily to questions of race and identity, rather than to research and drug development.

These developments with biodata are consistent with scientific history. This has always been the case with genetics, which has been used in the name of far too many racist and ethnocentric causes. Similarly, the use of human cells for research without appropriate patient knowledge, consent, or consultation is common. The case of Henrietta Lacks, a tobacco farmer whose cells were harvested unbeknownst to her and are the source for the HeLa cancer cell line (eventually put into mass production for biomedical research), is a salient example of the value of biodata, and how science can tend to completely overlook its source.

While the past several years have allowed space for real conversations about race, identity, and personal genomics, the question of what is to happen with all this biodata looms. Companies with such stockpiles of biodata are also treasure troves for health insurance, advertising, and other biotech companies. These players all become potential customers and “data miners”, also buying and selling client information to be sold back as therapeutics. The central question of whether informed consent can truly be given in this context – never mind the fact that so many of us rarely pause to read the Terms and Conditions – is still on the table. If we don’t consent to being in the biodatabases of the future, who instead is being represented in those frameworks? Who are the therapeutics for?

If you are interested in reading more about Race, Identity, and how DNA test kits factor in, check out extension coverage of the topic on NPR CodeSwitch episodes:

Race Underneath the Skin (December 2018)
Is Race Science Making a Comeback (July 2019)

The post My Biodata? I Don’t Know Her appeared first on The McGill Daily.

While selective user silencing is not new, nowadays, users on both Twitter and Instagram might find themselves shadowbanned, or partly silenced. Shadowbanning is the act of blocking a user’s content online such that the user doesn’t know it’s happening. Instagram has previously acknowledged the issue (though not explicitly) by referring to the fact that some users are unable to surface posts using hashtag search. According to Instagram community guidelines around what types of censorship they undertake, “[they] remove content that contains credible threats or hate speech, content that targets private individuals to degrade or shame them, personal information meant to blackmail or harass someone, and repeated unwarranted messages.” Elsewhere on the platform, these community guidelines refer to “fostering meaningful and genuine interactions” by not artificially collecting likes or followers. To this end, “overstepping” community guidelines may lead to “deleted content, disabled accounts, or other restrictions.” While restricting platforms for “harmful content” (trolls, bots, and disinformation) seems necessary for social media platforms, shadowbanning brings up the questions of how and why “harmful content” is flagged and restricted, and who exactly is getting banned. Are some people more affected than others? For online communities, is shadowbanning a real problem?

In an interview with the Daily, researcher, cultural critic, and meme-creator Kristen Cochrane (@ripannanicolesmith) commented that shadowbanning can pose a real threat to online communities, and can act as a form of unpredictable and unreliable agenda setting. Community bonding through self-mockery or jokes about one’s own identity also run a high risk of being censored; posts intended as humour or satire can often be misread. “There’s a nuance that’s missing, things like tone, facial expression, cultural context, that [a moderator] might not read.” The material implications of shadowbanning are that online social communities can be restricted, and their reach is consequently limited.

In an Instagram direct message to the Daily, popular meme account @beesdyingalarmingrate spoke to experiencing censorship, though they’ve never been shadowbanned: “I’ve definitely had posts taken down for ridiculous reasons like using the word ‘dyke,’ or saying cis men are whack […] Most of the content on my page isn’t original and I don’t make money off the page in any way so it doesn’t really affect me in any serious way but it’s a bummer. What’s more upsetting to me is when accounts get deleted wrongfully, which, maybe I’m paranoid, but seems like it happens more with the LGBTQ and POC meme accounts that I follow than with more hegemonic accounts.” Cochrane also explained that, in her view, “agenda setting” unfolds this way: while people might otherwise have the opportunity to engage with more diverse content, restricting content that falls outside of centrist norms prohibits interactions with content that might move you to think differently. There is an argument to be made that these types of regulations might also force artists and creators to subconsciously produce content that falls within certain existing norms, undermining creativity, and creating monocultures.

“I haven’t been shadowbanned,” Kristen explained, “but a lot of people on the left are shadowbanned, especially millennials who use absurdist humour. I’ve also noticed accounts dealing with mental health and intersectional feminism writing about being shadowbanned, and these are often marginalized individuals. I’ve noticed it happening to a lot of working class and precarious folks as well as POC with more radical, but not offensive content. One account I really like, @patiasfantasyworld, from New York, is often hidden, and she has been spreading mostly via word of mouth. Her memes are not radically left stuff, it’s more surreal millennial humour.”

Patia Borja, creator of @patiasfantasyworld, told the Daily that she has been shadowbanned, a lot, and that it can make work-related things hard. “Sometimes my friends will recommend me for projects and tell me they’ve given so & so my username to contact, and I have to tell them I might not come up in search.” When asked if she thought shadowbanning is a real threat, she said she views it more as an inconvenience. “I want to vocalize my thoughts about what is going on in the world on a public forum and the process of who gets to be shadowbanned deters that.”

She added that “every person I know who is shadowbanned doesn’t even post crazy shit or anything. […] Why should my content [such as a picture of poop, or a meme about men being trash] be hidden when it isn’t harming others? Since Facebook bought Instagram, I feel the app has gone downhill. Everything gets reported except for racist content. […] How many school shooters or bullies have pages indicating their terrible activities yet they’ve never been taken down?”

Are Posts Differentiated?

It’s difficult to gauge if different content is treated differently, and if it is, the magnitude of this difference. In April 2019, Techcrunch reported that Instagram now “demotes” vaguely inappropriate content, such as “sexually suggestive” content, or memes that are not outright hate speech but could be “in poor taste.” A leak of slides presented to journalists at the press event shows “non-recommendable content,” as per Instagram. These indicate a picture of a woman in their underwear as “sexually suggestive,” and recommend against posts that contain “misinformation.” On this rough guideline alone, it’s unclear what even falls into this category – which by definition could cover anything from pictures taken in gym or beachwear to pornographic images. Are women more likely to have content flagged? Are only posts consistent with conventional beauty norms left up? Do shirtless gym pictures or posts taken at the beach constitute “sexually suggestive” content?

Salty Mag, a “newsletter (for & by) badass women, trans, and non-binary peeps,” spoke up earlier this year on Instagram’s ban of their content on the grounds of “promoting escort services,” In each case, the people featured in the content were either trans, racialized, and/or intersex. In each case, the individuals are fully clothed.

Salty describes continual difficulties with censorship on the platform since their inception. This has included the removal of topless photos of non-binary and trans individuals. Instagram currently prohibits female nipples being shown, and as such removes any photos within this binary optic. While the ads Salty speaks of are not for escort services, the mag strongly supports sex workers and advocates for the fact that these are often the people most affected by these “new” censorship regulations. Though the posts were re-instated eventually (after much pushback from Salty) the stories (and screenshots of Instagram content regulation) they are but a few examples of bodies being policed via these guidelines – especially bodies that are racialized, fat, queer, disabled, and/or engaged in sex work.

It’s hard to know exactly how the “black box” (algorithm) functions to make these value judgements. Facebook has already come under fire for its call-centre style of contracting out the emotionally turbulent work of moderating violent, traumatic, and inappropriate content. In an in-depth exploration of content moderators, The Verge described how consensus is reached on special topics being censored to make up a “rapidly changing rulebook” to guide flagging and taking down content. This is also tightly wound up in stringent “quality assurance” measures with “narrow margins of error” in an intense work environment – forcing employees to make rapid judgements on content. The emotional and psychological toll of this type of work is undeniable, and raises a lot of questions: whether an underlying moderator ideology exists, and what ideologies “quality assurance” converges on (or is being told to converge on). The question of whether artificial intelligence models could instead regulate content fairly and accurately is an entirely different conversation. In a Facebook-published manifesto on content governance, founder Mark Zuckerberg seems to acknowledge the problem, arguing in favour of the algorithms: “The vast majority of mistakes we make are due to errors enforcing the nuances of our policies rather than disagreements about what those policies should actually be. Today, depending on the type of content, our review teams make the wrong call in more than one out of every ten cases.”

How Dangerous Can Shadowbanning Really Be?

While merely an inconvenience for some, shadowbanning can cause real problems for people whose livelihoods depend on their social media presence.

In 2018, the U.S. Senate and House passed FOSTA-SESTA – a package of bills to “Allow States and Victims to Fight Online Sex Trafficking” (FOSTA) and the “Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act” (SESTA). The legislation came largely out of an investigation into Backpage, an online classified ad service that has been accused of facilitating and profiting off of child sex trafficking. The Bills were (perhaps unsurprisingly) largely opposed by proponents of “free speech,” but also by online sex workers. While FOSTA-SESTA might harm sex traffickers, it also has the effect of limiting sex workers’ ability to offer and discuss sexual services online. Journalist Violet Blue explored the relationship between “cracking down on child sex trafficking” and stifling adult sex work altogether in her Engadget piece earlier this year. In it, she describes how FOSTA equates adult sex work with online sex trafficking, and that most major internet platforms backed FOSTA. In the aftermath, sex workers have reported being forced to pay exorbitant sums of money to get their accounts back up and running, which some have called outright extortion. Following passage of the Bill, violent physical and financial harms to sex workers have only increased. What’s more, the stated aim of stopping sex trafficking has also become compromised – law enforcement professionals are less able to track advertisements or digital footprints for prosecutors. The backlash caused by FOSTA-SESTA is a salient example of how political regulation of the internet is both influenced by and supportive of existing power structures. As a direct result, those most excluded from traditional markets bear the brunt of these regulations. Exclusion from digital markets compromises livelihoods, safety, and community.

While outright banning and policing of certain bodies is a huge problem in and of itself, shadowbanning poses a unique threat to social media users and content creators because it is hard to identify and track when and if it’s happening. For rejected ads and promoted content, there is a direct interaction with Instagram that can be referenced, enabling users to protest unfair or discriminatory bans. Shadowbans are particularly insidious because we can’t lay direct claim to any type of discrimination; the main symptom of a shadowban is decreased engagement, which could be attributed solely to a “lack of interest” or content that simply “isn’t engaging enough.” As Kristen mentioned, this is agenda setting, controlling the types of content we are allowed to access.

In our fast-paced attention economy, changes to our technological landscape and the political implications that come with them can be missed in a blink. A primary value of social media is the visibility that social networks are intended to provide for consumers. As digital citizens, it’s not entirely clear how we can interrogate these regulatory systems or work against undue censorship. That said, there is room to push back. If you get content banned, report it (when cases that have been previously flagged and banned, such as Salty’s, get reinstated, it creates precedent). And for those of us not stripped of a voice, moving the conversation forward through sharing content by word of mouth, and attributing to creators as much as possible, is imperative. As scholar Safiya Noble posits in the opening to her book Algorithms of Oppression: “we must ask ourselves who the intended audience is for a variety of things we find, and question the legitimacy of being in a ‘filter bubble,’ when we do not want racism and sexism, yet they still find their way to us.”

Am I shadowbanned?
Here’s how to check:
1. Post something with an uncommon hashtag.
2. Ask five people who don’t follow you to search the hashtag.
3. If none of them see your post, you’re probably shadowbanned.

The post Out of Site, Out of Mind appeared first on The McGill Daily.

To close out the summer Festival season, MUTEK Montreal saw its 20th Edition run from August 20-25, bringing a suite of live audiovisual, electronic music, and performance experiences to the city.  As part of MUTEK 20, Forum IMG brought together a range of industry professionals, creatives, practitioners, and citizens engaged in digital spaces to discuss our digital futures: how to imagine art, technology, and society moving forward. This piqued our SciTech curiosity, so we took the opportunity to drop in on the keynote and several subsequent sessions. We weren’t entirely sure what to expect ñ ravers, academics, hackers, activists? Finding ourselves in the midst of all of the above, we got the chance to reflect on the intersections of science, art, tech, and activism.

Moving into a fresh year of SciTech, we want to share with you some of our favourite questions, answers, some highlights, and some stuff to check out, for if you missed the fest, if you love sci-fi, or if you’re also kind of curious about our digital futures:

What do we do when the whole entire world is ending, and we seem to no longer own the internet?

In the keynote, theorist/writer/lecturer/cyberculture critic Douglas Rushkoff wanted to remind us that we originally did own the internet ñ that its whole purpose was creativity and self-expression. That is, until, (surprise) it was recognized as a good way of holding people’s attention, and was co-opted by corporations. Not to scare us too much, but the Team Human podcast host wanted to remind us that so much of what we see online is predicated on principles of “captology” — i.e. that computers can be used as persuasive technologies. Apparently everyone in CompSci at Stanford takes a course on this. Behavioural finance, according to Rushkoff, essentially revolves around us being dependably tied to clickbait. But he also wanted to remind us that we’re all on “team human,” that establishing rapport will save us all, if we all just remember that we all have emotions. Right. Also, opening up the possibility that we can reclaim our space on the internet as its original forum for creativity and self-expression. Someone asked about how detrimental the tech and internet industry is on an environmental level and if we should really be developing further given all that. Unconfirmed.

Are we really being controlled by the internet?

Answer: yes, definitely. As Rushkoff established, spooky though it is, a lot of how we interact with the internet now is through a design intended to hold our attention. As artist/activist Bill Posters and collaborator Daniel Howe show in their art-installation “Spectre,” we are all being surveilled and manipulated in response to our previous behaviours online. As activist and hacker Paolo Cirio discusses with his project “Sociality,” there are even patents on algorithms that have the express intent of manipulating internet user behaviour one way or another (which you can report and have banned, if you want). All this to say, definitely yes — all of which points to a dire need for media and marketing literacy from all of us.

Is our basic wellbeing inextricable from being online?

Sava Saheli Singh, a postdoctoral fellow at the Surveillance Studies Centre at Queen’s University, explores this in a series of short films meditating on surveillance and its impacts. These near-future fiction pieces offer a grim look into how tied we really are to the internet, and what implications this might have. Which really made us think: can we go offline entirely? Should we? You can check out the Screening Surveillance films, entirely written, directed and starring Canadian artists, here. We had the chance to speak with Sava and get her own thoughts on digital futures, and we will be putting out that interview shortly.

Is the dystopia coming? It feels pretty 1984 in here.

ICYMI, it’s already here. Dismissing that as fiction is useless to all of us. But as panelists on the Counter Narratives panel (writers Tim Maughan and Ingrid Burrington, VR artist Ali Eslami, and new media artist Dietrich Squinkifer) highlighted, science fiction as a tool for imagining alternate futures, iterations of our current reality, and fleshing out the interconnectedness of issues that are otherwise siloed is something writers and readers today can take great solace in.

Final Thoughts

Paradoxically, in the midst of all this talk of what to do in the case that algorithms take over entirely, conference attendees were forced to enjoy some local coffee and each other’s company as technical difficulties plagued the facility. Just in case all of us forgot that tech is fallible, and we’re not robots, there’s always space for a conversation.

All the best to all of you moving into the new school year — reach out to us if you want to join the team, go to stuff like MUTEK, and/or write for SciTech!

The post MUTEK 20 Explores Our Digital Futures appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Kiran Gandhi, who uses the stage name Madame Gandhi, is a musician, producer, artist, and activist. She has performed as a drummer alongside M.I.A., Kehlani, and Thievery Corporation, and went viral in 2015 when she ran the London Marathon bleeding freely on her period. Ahead of the release of her upcoming EP and her Montreal show dates, Gandhi sat down and answered some questions with The McGill Daily. Here, she shares some of her experiences in empathy, music, activism, and her thoughts on our collective future.

My younger self would probably tell me that I’m great and that I’m doing really well, and remind me to stay playful.
– Madame Gandhi

The McGill Daily (MD): What does the phrase “the future is female” mean to you in terms of how we, as a collective society, need to shift?

Madame Gandhi (MG): I’ve always loved the phrase “the future is female.” When I started to see it coming back in 2015, it was after I ran the London Marathon bleeding freely, and it was the first time I had seen a unifying feminist slogan that was aspirational and about building a brighter future using femininity. It also highlighted what womxn, femmes, and queer folks bring to the table as something that is desirable. For me, “the future is female” is about valuing the femininity in all of us, regardless of our gender identity, and it’s about valuing things like being emotionally intelligent over brute force, or being collaborative instead of competitive, or living in a world that is “linked, not ranked,” as Gloria Steinem so eloquently puts it. For me, “the future is female” is about valuing femininity as an archetype of leadership that we can all aspire to, especially when archetypes of masculine, cis, white leadership are failing us. When we say the future is female, many folks fear that it might exclude trans folks. For me, it’s important for each generation to repurpose a phrase to really meet the needs of the time. The trans femme community, as well as the trans community at large, have long been leaders in defying gender norms and breaking down barriers that limit us when it comes to gender identity. And so for me, I find a lot of the liberation I personally seek is what is currently being achieved by the trans community. “The future is female” is about saying “how do we build a world that is more inclusive? How do we build a world that is more peace-oriented? How do we build a world that doesn’t assume we need to create a hierarchy to oppress one another, or that for one person to win, someone else has to lose?” So that’s what “the future is female” means to me, and in my work, I focus on being intersectional and very intentionally trans-inclusive.

I feel like the “ally” would be so lucky to be able to hang out with a bunch of folks of colour, or a bunch of queer folks, or a bunch of trans folks, and push their own comfort level to be exposed to something new.

– Madame Gandhi

MD: There is currently progress being made to recognize the need for more diversity and inclusion across the board, ranging from tokenistic actions to genuine change. In the last five years, what shifts have you noticed for women in the music industry and in technology? What do you think still needs to happen?

MG: I think for me it’s really about saying that, as people of colour, womxn, queer folks, and trans folks, we shouldn’t be begging to be in masculine, white, elite, heteronormative spaces. Folks in those positions need to recognize that they would be so lucky to have people bringing different backgrounds to the table. That it’s not about them doing us a favour, and it’s not about them “opening doors” for a certain percentage or quota, it’s about realizing that having people of different backgrounds and opinions only makes the experience better for all people. It makes the quality of a business, or a university or an education much stronger. To that end, I’m also really interested in folks of colour, queer folks, folks in minority immigrant comunities, and communites with varying abilities being able to stand up and to take leadership on our own. To actually do that, we have to build companies that design for our bodies, that design for our needs, that design for our safety. We have to start those organizations and raise that money. We have to build the new paradigm and design the structures, instead of breaking into structures that were never designed to include us to begin with. And I think a two-pronged approach to this is important: the mainstream has to recognize the value of having different folks, and we have to participate where we feel safe, but we also have to go and innovate our own companies, own communities, and own spaces.

“The future is female” is about saying how do we build a world that is more inclusive? How do we build a world that is more peace-oriented? How do we build a world that doesn’t assume we need to create a hierarchy to oppress one another, or that for one person to win, someone else has to lose.
– Madame Gandhi

MD: Empowerment can mean a lot of different things to different people – for you, what does empowerment mean, and in that same vein, what does allyship mean to you?

MG: I think allyship sometimes has a problematic connotation, whereby the ally thinks they’re doing the folks in the minority group a favour. I feel like the “ally” would be so lucky to be able to hang out with a bunch of folks of colour, or a bunch of queer folks, or a bunch of trans folks, and push their own comfort level to be exposed to something new. That said, of course, given the times we live in, various minority groups are constantly exposed to different trauma and oppression that the mainstream does not cover. A male ally in a feminist cause, to me, is someone that has deep empathy, doesn’t ask questions about your trauma, and has already done the emotional work to really try to understand. That way, you don’t feel like they’re doing you a favour, or that they pity you, or that they are looking for a pat on the back. To me that’s an ally – somebody who has rich empathy and somebody who would never question your trauma or try to gaslight you and convince you that it doesn’t exist.

Madame Gandhi went viral in 2015 when she ran the London Marathon bleeding freely on her period.

MD: As an activist, what was your experience working and studying at academic institutions, and how did that influence your current work?

MG: Honestly, my times at Georgetown and Harvard were the only times in my life that I ever experienced the kind of oppression that I talk about in my music. It’s really interesting, university is supposed to be this time where I am supposed to feel like a prestigious student who has been accepted because of my accolades. I’m supposed to feel like I belong. I’m supposed to feel like I’m reaching the fullest of my potential, and yet, that was the only place where I truly felt quieted and excluded. I felt undesirable, I felt stupid, and I felt undeserving, as if I wasn’t meant to be there. I really did feel many of these things at both Georgetown and Harvard, and I think that because I have a lot of empathy, and it’s very easy to put myself in the shoes of others, when I went through that type of oppression, I started to have understanding for folks in different minority groups in a way that I really didn’t when I was growing up in the heart of NYC with access to a lot of different privileged positions. When my Marathon story went viral, and when I started to produce and perform my own music, the central theme of my work, which is the same to this day, was “own your voice; don’t be afraid.” The reason that “own your voice; don’t be afraid” and “the future is female” are personal goals is because when I was at university, I was not able to own my voice. I was not able to speak up when something didn’t sit right with me or when I felt like someone was being rude or mean to me. I didn’t feel like I had the bravery that I wished for, and I didn’t have the courage or the focus in the moment to be able to say what I wanted to say. And that’s why my work is really focused on those themes at large, because many of us who have experienced trauma or oppression can relate, regardless of what that trauma is.

For me, “the future is female” is about valuing femininity as an archetype of leadership that we can all aspire to, especially when archetypes of masculine, cis, white leadership are failing us.
– Madame Gandhi

MD: Is there any advice that you might give a younger version of yourself?

MS: I would do the opposite, I would have the younger version of myself give me some advice right now – and she would probably tell me that I’m great and that I’m doing really well, and remind me to stay playful.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

You can find information about Madame Gandhi’s music and her upcoming shows on https://www.madamegandhi.com.

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Rap Battles for Social Justice “aims to forge community ties through consciousness raising in the form of art and entertainment,” mainly through hosting events to build awareness and education around social justice issues. The “Adwa & Beyond” series, held throughout BHM, has carried the spirit of afrofuturism — a communal envisioning of future narratives “in defiance of the future that was robbed from you.” The series will culminate with a show featuring artists from across the city on February 28.

The panel, facilitated by educator Shanice Nicole, brought together individuals each working in important areas of advocacy and action in Montreal. “[BHM] is just one month, and, at that, the shortest month of the year,” Nicole remarked, “this is to open the conversation.”

Neil Guilding aka “Zibz Black Currant,” who runs Jeunesse 2000 (J2K), a dropin music studio space for youth in Montreal, spoke about the role of belonging, Indigeneity, and prioritizing youth spaces. Walther Guillaume, a young researcher and activist with the participatory research project MTLSansProfilage, spoke about his work with the organization and the effects of racial profiling. Guillaume’s work centres on understanding youth experiences with the police in Saint Michel. Marlihan Lopez, a Black feminist activist and community organizer, spoke on her work to eliminate sexual violence and to raise awareness about its intersectionality. Lopez also discussed the ways in which Black lives are policed beyond formal law enforcement, leading into a discussion around abolition and justice. Lopez stated, “we need to talk about other forms of justice, like transformative justice — to overcome these institutional levels of violence.”

Organized by the Social Equity and Diversity Education Office (SEDE) and the Black Students’ Network of McGill (BSN), Black History Month at McGill runs until February 28. Events this week include a Cannabis Legalization Teach-In (February 25), Managing Microaggressions at Work (February 27), and SPEAK B(L)ACK, a Spoken Word Show being held February 28.  

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MTL Sans Profilage is a research and action collective, made up of several volunteers from Montreal. Recently, the team conducted a qualitative study in the neighborhood of Saint- Michel on the viewpoints and experiences of racialized youth with the police. The study began in 2015, and was led by researchers Dr. Anne-Marie Livingstone, Dr. Ted Rutland, and Dr. Stéphane Alix, as well as Saint-Michel residents, Zakarya Youness Abidou, Walther Guillaume, Rhita Harim, Marc-Kendy Milien, and Larry Rémé. The Daily spoke with Walther Guillaume and Dr. Anne-Marie Livingstone. The researchers shared their motivations for undertaking the project, explaining what the results mean for relationships between youth in Montreal and the Service de Police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM). Anne- Marie Livingstone is currently a post- doctoral fellow at the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs (Canada Program) at Harvard University, and Walther Guillaume is an engineering student and member of Forum Jeunesse de Saint-Michel (FJSM).

The McGill Daily (MD): Can you tell us a bit about your research and how this project came to be?

Anne-Marie Livingstone (AML): I had a long history of working on racism, inequality, and the Black community in Montreal. Part of the reason I went back to do [a] doctorate was because I saw a large gap in the literature on how institutions perpetuate racial inequalities in Canada. My initial field research was on anti-poverty policies in Montreal and Toronto, not specifically on policing. With the rise of neoliberalism in Canada and elsewhere, we’ve witnessed a decrease in social welfare and an increase in policing. This is seen in Montreal, where there has been a certain criminalization of social problems, such as with the crackdown on so-called youth gangs. My colleague Dr. Ted Rutland, from Concordia, met some young activists in Saint-Michel who expressed concerns about police violence in the neighborhood. I had previously done some participatory research with Black high school students in Montreal and knew the power of the methodology, so we decided to collaborate. A large part of this project was self-financed, but we did have some support in the form of a grant from l’Observatoire sur les Profilages at Université de Montréal. The young people were at the heart of everything. We decided everything together: outlining the research questions, creating the interview guide, and carrying out the interviews. We completed 48 interviews and spent nine months analyzing the data as a team, reading the transcripts line by line.

Walther Guillaume (WG): I was a part of Forum Jeunesse de Saint-Michel, and was looking for work at the time. I met Anne- Marie, and was interested in working with the project. In the summer of 2015 I got involved as a researcher.

“We’ve witnessed a decrease in social welfare and an increase in policing. This is seen in Montreal where there has been a certain criminalization of social problems such as with the crackdown on so-called youth gangs.”

— Anne-Marie Livingstone

MD: Can you give us a brief overview of the project and what has come out of it?

WG: The research was organized with a group of youth that Anne- Marie Livingstone met, and at the time there wasn’t any qualitative research on the subject. The goal was to get an idea of the relationship between police and the youth. We engaged with a group of young people in 2015, with whom we conducted 48 interviews. We asked them questions, and had them elaborate on their answers. We then spent a good amount of time analyzing the data to make the report, which was finished this past year after two years of work. We found common themes, and identified potential interventions with respect to surveillance and interrogations. We’ve done several presentations so far, and are going to continue to do so.

The results of the report included most notably the fact that in Saint- Michel, the police often interrogate youth without cause. They used a variety of methods to justify the arrests, most frequently claiming they had received a call about an incident, and asking to see ID. The report also mentioned multiple types of abuse by police, such as beating, kicking, and calling Black youths names like “orangutans” and “macaques.”

AML: What we learned is just how racial profiling operates in ways that are not generally understood, and that it is much more a function of the operations of policing than is normally perceived. We tend to think of racial profiling as the fault of police officers who are racist, but what we argue is that it is built into policies of the SPVM to police youth of colour at a higher rate. In our report, we name policies like identity checks, the surveillance of youth gangs, and the control of incivilities as contributing to, and even enabling, racial profiling.

MD: Why is this really important in Saint-Michel?

WG: It’s participatory and so it involves the youth directly, and the results are really important; this type of research can improve the lives of people in the neighborhood. The next thing to do is use the report to get people informed about what their rights are and what’s going on. I think it can lead to the police changing their rapport with youth.

MD: In terms of social media, what is the campaign?

WG: The social media campaign includes these educational vignettes, which show the experiences of youth with the police, and aim to help youth know their rights.

Did we achieve our goals? In a sense yes, a lot of people have engaged with the page to see the vignettes, and some people are going to use them for education programs.

In the next phase of the project, we will expand our efforts on education and outreach, putting more posters of the vignettes in school and in the community.

With regard to Forum Jeunesse (FJSM), another organization I am part of, it is also led by and for youth. Youth decide what activities to focus on. Our next project has the goal of creating a space for people older than 18 to learn, meet new people, and create – we have a lot of artists in the community who dance, DJ, etc. It will be a drop-in space unique from the current youth café, which mostly serves those under 18.

The final report of MTLSansProfilage calls for the following recommendations:

1) Requiring the SPVM to make race-based data publicly available;

2) Creating an independent police watchdog to analyze police data, produce reports, and conduct public consultations;

3) Eliminating all law enforcement policies and programs that target racial minority youth, including the war on street gangs and the penalties for harmless incivilities (e.g., hanging out in groups in public spaces);

4) Reducing the personnel and budget of the Poste de Quartier for Saint- Michel (Poste 30) by 20 per cent, and transferring those resources towards community-based programs for young people and families in the neighborhood.

The full report of MTLSansProfilage, with the final recommendations, is available here. The vignettes can be viewed online on Facebook, and @mtlsansprofilage (Instagram). A full Op-Ed by Dr. Anne-Marie Livingstone in response to the SPVM’s new plan to address racial profiling was published in CBC in February 2019.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

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On Monday January 28, the Office of the Wet’suwet’en announced in a press release that they have requested the B.C. government issue a cease-and-desist work order for the CGL project. The release justifies the claim by citing non-compliance by CGL CGL is allegedly not upholding the conditions of its permit, nor of the interim agreement. They have failed to conduct a mandatory site-specific archaeological impact assessment, and continue to disrespect Wet’suwet’en cultural practices, according to the press release. The B.C. Environmental Assessment and Compliance Office also found CGL to be noncompliant with pre construction requirements. CGL allegedly bulldozed a trapline and tents belonging to the Gidimt’en Clan, claiming that the use of traplines are in violation of the interim agreement. Freda Huson, one of the founders of the Unistot’en Camp, maintains that the company is at fault and that “[they] were supposed to not interfere with our cultural practices on our land. [This is] the second agreement that was made and was broken.”

The RCMP have refused to enforce the agreement, and have threatened arrest for those attempting to access their traplines. Both the CGL and the RCMP have yet to provide official responses.

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Affected clubs were given notice of the move in late December, just prior to the winter break. Move dates are set between the 14th and 21st of January. Logistics of the move have been coordinated by Wallace Sealy, SSMU Building Director. Only groups currently located in 2075 Robert-Bourassa are impacted.

SSMU President Tre Mansdoerfer told the Daily in a phone conversation that “it’s hard not having a building in general, taking a decision like this helps the student groups, and is also helping to avoid deficits. This decision is being taken based on what we could afford.” He went on to address the delayed construction at the University Centre: “we were told [the construction] would take longer than January, and we needed to take a choice that would save money and ensure people have the spaces they need to operate.” The move to 680 Sherbrooke saves SSMU the $80,000 that would otherwise be allocated to paying rent on an additional three-month contract at 2075 Robert-Bourassa. The lease would have to be renewed again in April should the University Centre still be under renovations.

While the building at Robert-Bourassa required key card access hindering some groups from holding open office or drop-in hours, the 680 location may facilitate more student ownership of an interim space. “I don’t think the groups are hindered too much – it is a comparable service space. Overall, I think it is a good move,” concluded President Mansdoerfer.

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On November 14, American legislators introduced bills in the House and Senate that aim to put pressure on the Trump administration to condemn Chinese detention camps. These camps currently house up to one million Uighur Muslims, as well as other Chinese Muslims. The legislation would impose sanctions targeting the sale of Chinese goods, but have no direct impact on individual members of the Chinese government. Canada, France, Germany, and other countries have written to the Communist Party leader of Xinjiang, Chen Quanguo, asking him to explain the detention camps.

In response to accusations of massive internment camps in Xinjiang, a western region of China, a Chinese Communist Party official said, “there is no arbitrary detention. […] There is no such a thing as re-education centers.”

However, over one million ethnic Uighur Muslims are being detained in what the government presents as “re-education schools,” aimed at “combating religious extremism” through legal theory and language learning. Abdusalam Muhemet, who was arrested in 2014, describes the facility in which he was detained as “not a place for getting rid of extremism, [but] a place that will breed vengeful feelings and erase Uighur identity.”

Roughly one tenth of the Uighur population of Xinjiang has been sent to these camps. These detentions target Muslim minority members exclusively. These camps are a result of a crackdown on the Uighur Muslim minority that has grown in the past four years, including a broader context of policies to erase, or at least conceal, Uighur Muslim identity in China.

Legislation prohibits wearing headscarves and long beards, as well as religious instruction. Islamic-sounding names have also been banned. Uighur Muslims face extremely strict travel restrictions and have to relinquish their passports to authorities for “safe-keeping.” Specific prohibitions further target Uighur government officials, who are prohibited from practicing Islam. The expansion of security services and surveillance in Xinjiang have been described by BBC News as “some of the most restrictive and comprehensive security measures ever deployed by a state against its own people.”

Wildfires in California

Over 1,000 people remain missing and at least 81 have died as a result of recent California wildfires. Recovery crews in Paradise, California, are still searching for victims, while disaster relief organizations have set up sites for crisis relief.

The fires in northern California, considered to be the deadliest in the state’s history, erupted on November 8, causing thousands to flee their homes. An estimated 13,000 homes and another 15,000 buildings have been destroyed.

In addition to work by disaster and recovery crews, firefighting efforts have been underway for several weeks. Civilian firefighters have been joined by over 200 prisoners in California’s Conservation Camp program. Inmates are compensated $1.45 a day on average. California has a longstanding history of relying on its prison population to assist with firefighting, dating back to World War II. It is estimated that 40 per cent of firefighters are inmates from these working programs.

Private firefighters have been employed by insurance companies and celebrities, such as Kim Kardashian and Kanye West, to salvage expensive homes in the area. The use of private firefighting services, in contrast to the use of prison labour to quell fires, has called into question how divisions of labour exacerbate inequalities in the face of natural disasters.

Rain storms this past week have brought deadly “Camp Fire” close to containment after several weeks of burning. With some relief, authorities are pushing evacuees out of tent cities, telling them to seek refuge in shelters that are already full. However the struggle is not over yet as the rainfall is also warranting flash flood advisories for about one million people in the area of Paradise.

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Facial recognition technologies offer a newer, more personal type of security, through which artificial intelligence and high-precision cameras enable instantaneous identification of users. These technologies are touted for the supposed promise of increased security. This means that national security forces  can increase safety by responding faster to violent crime, and by being quicker with investigations. For individual users, facial recognition technology can purportedly offer them control over their own personal information, whether that be as a means to lock access to your phone, bank, or other personal affairs. 

With little regulation or policy surrounding facial technology, authoritarian surveillance is entirely possible, and already happening.

Though China is the first nation to fully implement surveillance with this technology, Australia, India, and the United Kingdom have joined in trialing the technology over the past year. These national security systems rely on national databases of civilian profiles to identify people. More recently, facial recognition CCTV (closed-circuit television systems) has been added to the suite of modern video analytics for surveillance. In addition to being able to identify objects, animals, and to log how fast things are moving, national security systems using facial recognition CCTV are able to instantly identify who is in the frame. This could mean a decreased reliance on witnesses or in-person investigations. This technology allows for investigations to go entirely digital and enables police to arrive on scene to carry out arrests minutes after crimes are committed. 

Like any other Tuesday night, red and blue lights bounce off the snow at the intersection. You hang up the phone as you turn the corner, and are immediately stopped by an officer. “Are you so-and-so?” they ask. “We saw you on camera.” You shake your head, no. They ask you to show ID. You try to remember if you took your ID to school today.

In the mid 19th-century, philosopher Bentham proposed “the panopticon,”  an architectural prison design, which offered complete control of those being observed via internalized coercion. Because people in the panopticon are always being watched, they are constantly aware of being observed, and are, therefore, under control. 

With little regulation or policy surrounding facial technology, authoritarian surveillance is entirely possible, and already happening. The use of facial recognition technology for surveillance is criticized on many fronts – when it works well, it poses a risk to civilian freedom and privacy, and when it doesn’t work, it makes innocent people vulnerable. Big Brother Watch, a non-profit civil liberties organization which campaigns against the rise of state surveillance, produced a report which estimated that facial recognition technology had a high rate of false positives, as well as false negatives. While false positives occur when the technology identifies someone incorrectly, false negatives are the failure to correctly identify someone who is in a national facial recognition database. A central point of the report is that well-working, or perfected facial recognition technology, would essentially turn civilians into “walking ID cards.” Conversely, the use of surveillance technology to police concerts, festivals, and carnivals in both the UK and China have falsely identified the presence of national suspects to police over 90 per cent of the time. The report also highlights how facial recognition technology is disproportionately accurate when it comes to minority groups: it frequently incorrectly identifies women of minority ethnic groups in the United States. This is a major concern, as racial prejudice in police systems already disproportionately affects minorities. If technologies pose the risk of increasing this disparity, the “merits” of these technologies should truly be called into question. The risk of racial prejudice in AI-based technologies is a recurring concern – a piece earlier this semester, titled Is AI Racist? examined the fallibility of AI and its consistent issues in terms of racial bias. 

As the price of these technologies continues to decrease, making them more accessible for other nations to follow suit, we have to ask whether we are adequately equipped for the repercussions of institutionalizing this technology, and giving in to increasingly authoritarian surveillance. With instantaneous identification, advances in surveillance move us closer to a modern, and vividly real, iteration of the panopticon. We constantly have to ask – who is watching us? Should they be?

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