The internet has saved democracy! Or at least that’s how it felt recently. When SOPA, the U.S. Congress' Stop Online Piracy Act, was postponed after a very public outcry, the whole episode seemed to display the best of the web. The mass outpouring of dissent and the blackout of sites like Reddit and Wikipedia forced American lawmakers to retreat on what was inarguably a terrible bill. Score one for the democratic potential of the internet.
But with news of terrible working conditions in Apple’s supply chain and Twitter's new realpolitik policy on censorship, the techno-utopian triumphalism was short-lived. Beneath the high-tech sheen was some dark, complicated stuff. What’s more, given that the roots of Apple and Twitter's controversies lie in complex global issues, the very conspicuous activism behind SOPA suddenly started to look more like self-interest and Western insularity than a shining example of online democracy. It was, if not quite “evil,” then at least a little unsettling. And the eerie symmetry between the interests of web users and those of large corporations demands the question: is the web the beacon of democracy we keep saying it is?
In one sense, the answer to that question is a clear “yes,” and in a way the widespread mobilization against SOPA was democracy at its amoral purest. A populace had particular interests and it used the platform the web provides to express them. Those concerns got magnified in turn and taken up by larger entities like Google, Wikipedia et al, and together it raised enough clamour to catch the attention of those with real power. What more could a democracy-loving citizen of the 21st century ask for? It may not be an ideal solution for issues like global poverty, but at least it lives up to certain ideals of how change should be enacted.
But with news of terrible working conditions in Apple’s supply chain and Twitter's new realpolitik policy on censorship, the techno-utopian triumphalism was short-lived. Beneath the high-tech sheen was some dark, complicated stuff. What’s more, given that the roots of Apple and Twitter's controversies lie in complex global issues, the very conspicuous activism behind SOPA suddenly started to look more like self-interest and Western insularity than a shining example of online democracy. It was, if not quite “evil,” then at least a little unsettling. And the eerie symmetry between the interests of web users and those of large corporations demands the question: is the web the beacon of democracy we keep saying it is?
In one sense, the answer to that question is a clear “yes,” and in a way the widespread mobilization against SOPA was democracy at its amoral purest. A populace had particular interests and it used the platform the web provides to express them. Those concerns got magnified in turn and taken up by larger entities like Google, Wikipedia et al, and together it raised enough clamour to catch the attention of those with real power. What more could a democracy-loving citizen of the 21st century ask for? It may not be an ideal solution for issues like global poverty, but at least it lives up to certain ideals of how change should be enacted.