Computer says so.

In Mr Monk Goes to the Ballgame, the murderer lures his target to a deserted industrial park by manipulating the GPS in their car the previous night – because he knew they would be unsuspecting of the instructions from that little machine.

I have just had one such moment myself. My Calendar indicated I had a Committee meeting this afternoon, so I planned my day around it accordingly. When I arrived at the venue, there were already people in the room, but they were not the usual faces. I asked them why they were there. Oh so authoritatively. It took me longer than it should to realise it was I who barged into their meeting. I just never doubted the Calendar.

After thinking about the Monk episode, I also remembered a casual list that I was compiling for students on a related topic. Related in my mind, at least.

“Suis-je bovvered?” [2]

❤ ❤ ❤

I don’t have much conviction about anything, but this—I believe this. On the internet those who bother are the last ones standing.

In any case, I am becoming more and more convinced that in the digital era, in which information is a product of collective definition, interpretation and construction, what matters most is activeness. In other words, the real digital divide will not lie along with age, gender or socioeconomic status, but will emerge between those who actually bother taking time out of their busy day to write/rewrite/overwrite on the Net and those who lurk.

Says who? Yours truly, 10 years ago. And it goes both ways.

Marching on

An exhaustive list of the allegations women have made against Donald Trump (The Cut, 27 October 2016)

Didn’t watch the inauguration. Made actual efforts to stay away from all media outlets. I simply couldn’t stomach it.

I was comparatively okay on the day following the election. Perhaps because I had always felt quite distant—if not indifferent—from American affairs. Perhaps Brexit had prepared me for it. Throughout that week I was in the basement of the London School of Hygiene & Tropical Medicine, cut off from the news and attending some intensive course, so that helped too.

Some people point out that he was legitimately elected (aside the vote-rigging scandal, that is). Others maintain that he does have a number of fierce supporters and that is telling us something bigger. The more cynical say all politicians are the same anyway and he is no worse than the rest. I have heard all and this post is not to dispute any.

As far as I am concerned, I just can’t get off my mind those women who came forward. I can’t pretend to understand what courage it must have taken and how they must be feeling now. To me it felt as if the world didn’t even bat an eyelash. At this rate Bill Cosby may walk scot-free too.

The only thing keeping me from total despair is reading about Women’s March (in Washington as well as here and around the world) and the ACLU’s plans.

A hashtag worth a thousand words

Giglietto, F. & Lee, Y. (2017). A hashtag worth a thousand words: Discursive strategies around #JeNeSuisPasCharlie after the 2015 Charlie Hebdo shooting. Social Media + Society 3(1): 1-15.

The above paper will be out any day now. It is another example of a blog post having evolved into a journal article. Two articles, actually. And it has been a demanding yet intellectually stimulating journey. Demanding because despite a finite set of data and time frame it felt “a lot like getting a grip on Jell-O”. I have borrowed these words from Steve Jones (1999: 12), who himself was paraphrasing his colleague Jim Costigan in order to describe the challenges of “doing Internet research”. I was writing my MA dissertation when I first read this book by Jones, in the summer of 2000, and thought it was the most apt way of putting it. Now internet studies have been much more structured and institutionalised than the book envisioned (p.12), but I think the challenges it identified are still valid.

My challenge this time was that the study had the potential to branch out into many new and substantial studies in their own right – especially with the world unfolding the way it did since. So, in a sense, this post is an epilogue to the paper. A few ‘avenues for future research’ are suggested below if anyone is interested in picking up the ball.

  • A comparative exploration between the Danish newspaper cartoon controversy in 2005 and the Charlie Hebdo case in 2015
  • How #JeSuisCharlie (and #JeNeSuisPasCharlie) users responded to Charlie Hebdo’s cartoon of Alan Kurdi
  • How #JeSuisCharlie (and #JeNeSuisPasCharlie) users responded to Charlie Hebdo’s “mask-droppingeditorial on Muslims
  • “A recently growing trend … [of choosing] a pithy phrase that serves as a ‘mini statement’ in its own right”: e.g. #BlackLivesMatter, #illridewithyou, #IStandWithAhmed, #portesouvertes, #ThisIsACoup, #PrayforSyria, #RestInPride, #내가메갈이다
  • Various functions of hashtags beyond folksonomy, including mention (as opposed to use), ironic and sarcastic use, and prompts for storytelling: e.g. #StopIslam, #myNYPD, #마음당_ series

Sliding on the participant-observer continuum

Denmark awaits Seoul’s extradition request for Choi Soon-sil’s daughter (The Guardian, 2 January 2017)

So the presidential scandal in Korea is far from dying down. On the contrary, it’s like peeling an onion; there is always more and it stinks.

Yesterday Chung Yoo-ra, the daughter of the woman at the centre of the scandal, was arrested in Denmark. It has been alleged that Chung herself has also been heavily involved in the wrongdoing. What is particularly interesting about this latest development is that this arrest was made possible by a Korea journalist tipping Danish police off Chung’s whereabouts. The journalist belongs to a cable station called JTBC. The station has been playing a crucial role so far, including this latest exclusive. JTBC’s news reporting division, led by the iconic journalist Sohn Suk-hee, has therefore been lauded by many as doing what politicians and law enforcers should have been doing but failed to.

Then an op-ed came out today. Written by a director in a media consulting firm, the piece has triggered a heated debate about whether it is appropriate for journalists to intervene. The author categorically argues the JTBC journalist shouldn’t have, citing Rachel Smolkin’s 2006 article on the topic. It’s like the criticism levelled at Kevin Carter and his famous photograph of a vulture and a child, but only inversely.

‘When to step in (if at all)’ is an age-old dilemma and not limited to journalism. I too discuss it extensively with our doctoral researchers, so I am adding this case to my metaphorical scrapbook. One I turn to most frequently in class is the following passage from Kenneth Good’s Into the Heart: One Man’s Pursuit of Love and Knowledge among the Yanomami (1991: 102-103):

I stood there, my heart pounding. I had no doubt I could scare these kids away. They were half-afraid of me anyway, and if I picked up a stick and gave a good loud, threatening yell, they’d scatter like the wind. On the other hand, I was an anthropologist, not a policeman. I wasn’t supposed to take sides and make value judgements and direct their behaviour. This kind of thing went on. If a woman left her village and showed up somewhere else unattached, chances were she’d be raped. She knew it, they knew it. It was expected behaviour. What was I supposed to do, I thought, try to inject my own standards of morality? I hadn’t come down here to change these people or because I thought I’d love everything they did; I’d come to study them.

The author of the op-ed is of course entitled to his concern for the integrity of the field he cares about. I think, however, he has missed the point that ‘observer’ and ‘participant’ are not two dichotomous states. To draw on Junker (1960), it is a continuum along which we all slide back and forth, guided by our professional moral compass.

Busan holiday

About a week ago I saw a tweet that goes: “Go back through your diary for the year. You’ve probably achieved much more than you remember”. Although I am not sad to see the back of 2016, why not a little bit of a positive spin? So I thought I’d give it a go too.

The first things that sprung to my mind were, naturally, and sadly, work-related. Publications, conferences, teaching, tutorials, etc. By those measures, it looks like I didn’t do too badly, if I may say so myself. However, somehow, I didn’t feel that they characterise my 2016. So, I delved further into it.

I have done yoga for a year now. Well, I say yoga, but it’s more of stretching for around 10 minutes as soon as I get up in the morning. Nevertheless, the point here is that I have done it everyday! Well, almost everyday. Okay, 350+ days. My Habitica gold pot is my proof.

2016 also marks that I have been blogging for ten years. Ten years! I am fully aware that I write here infrequently and irregularly, and that I only have a few random unsuspecting visitors a day. This blog is, however, an invaluable space for me and has been helping me clarify my muddled thoughts all this time.

Hang on, the most important achievement is saved for the last. This year will always be the year when I made a perspective-altering discovery personally. In August, I had a two-week break in Korea. It was motivated by an invitation to deliver a talk on smart cities at an IT Expo in Daegu, so I can’t say it was purely for holidaying. The seminar proved to be super interesting and, in a sense, set the course for my research in the next one or two years. A separate post is in order. What I want to record here is that instead of immediately returning to the day job, I actually set aside a time after the event for a little bit of travelling. Very unlike me. You wouldn’t believe this, but I didn’t even take my laptop with me.

And there I discovered that I actually like holidays as much as anyone else does. Why was this even a surprise to me? Because I had been programmed to believe otherwise. I had always thought the Korean in me was so strong that I was incapable of enjoying non-working. It was liberating to realise that was bulls**t. It was almost like a Truman Show moment for me.

I have been eagerly inflicting this knowledge on friends and colleagues since. I don’t know when my next holiday will be, but I know I am looking forward to. And until then, I will flip through photos from my first-ever holiday.

20161231_temple

(One of my favourite, taken at a 14C temple called Haedong Yonggungsa on a sea cliff.)

The walking wombs

Is your country also suffering from a low birth rate? The South Korean Ministry of the Interior knows what you need – a pink-shaded, interactive map by the number of “women of childbearing age” (which the Ministry operationally defines as 20 to 44 years old).

20161230_pink_map

If you would like a little more detailed account in English, here is one in International Business Times. Since 2016 has already been exhaustingly depressing, I will spare you with what kind of vulgar comments this map has encouraged at the bottom of the Web.

The minefield that is being a woman

There is no winning for us. The internet keeps reminding me – in many brilliant ways.

The fear of being fooled [2]

Finding Bana – Proving the existence of a 7-year-old girl in Eastern Aleppo (Nick Waters & Timmi Allen, Bellingcat, 14 December 2016)

Reading this article reminds me that I left one important strand entirely out from my latest post below. It is the fear of being fooled by the fraudulent narratives of victimhood. Some high-profile cases, such as the blogger of “A Gay Girl in Damascus” and a Muslim college student who reported that she had been attacked by a Trump supporter on the subway, have indeed turned out to be ‘catfishers’. Observers have also voiced a concern over the seeming rise of “victimhood politics“.

Consequently, victims are increasingly pressurised to prove that the suffering is genuine. I personally find this most unstomachable. How many rape survivors, for example, are subjected to secondary victimisation in the name of countering “false rape accusations” – or even the imagined threat of “flower snakes” in Korean public discourse? And the most vulnerable in conflict zones, including 16-year-old Farah Baker in Gaza and now 7-year-old Bana in Aleppo, are to ‘reassure’ people with Twitter’s prestigious blue ticks when they are telling the outside world how bad things are around them.