hydra

a blog mostly about a book in progress

what WePrime means to me January 30, 2006

Filed under: WePrime, postgender, spam — jrandomhacker @ 10:39 am

I wanted to use this space to start clarifying what i have meant when i have talked about WePrime, because a couple of people who have asked me about it, seem to think i meant something different and more direct than I intended, when i used the term.

The word WePrime started as a play on E-Prime. I just found this piece by Robert Anton Wilson that describes E-Prime more fully than i want to here. In short, E-prime, a form of English that does not use the word ‘is’ in a definitive way, works at demonstrating that one can indeed write and speak without using any form of “to be”. I find it hard to talk about E-Prime or We-Prime while staying E-Prime without sounding prim or verbose, so i’m not going to attmept that here.

In PS’s lovely phrase regarding something completely different, E-Prime works for me as a kind of mental foundation garment. In those terms, it feels nice to be able to take the foundation garment off and relax sometimes. For me, E-Prime works as a nice way of keeping in check a tendency that i sometimes have to be super-judgemental, especially about the aesthetics of the written word and about other peoples’ books.

WePrime also works as a kind of rhetorical foundation garment. But WePrime is not intended to be a flavour of English which doesn’t use the word ‘we’ at all; though i found a short experiment with the technique of avoiding any reference to we, to be interesting and useful to me when i first started thinking about what WePrime is, how it works.

WePrime is a way of looking harder at what We are doing when We talk about what We need to do, how We must act, what Our priorities should be. It can be very easy to make these kinds of blanket statements; It can be very easy to talk about ourselves, within ourselves, without feeling the need to make explicit references to who We are.

Yet when We move outwards and try to connect to more people, to find others who share ideas that look like ours, or to find others receptive to having our ideas; We can’t rely on that assumption any more. If We talk about who We are, what We believe in, how We define ourselves, in public, it becomes easier for others who want to share in our ideas to find us. But to do that, we have to make internal agreements about who We are. If We spontaneously arise between ourselves, We make statements that can seem exclusive, divisive, to people who don’t identify as We.

If someone is making statements about the We that they are part of, but i do not know them well, or know them at all, and i that person is not providing a clear means for me to look up the referent of We; i become suspicious. In this context, We looks like a rather old-fashioned rhetorical trick, used to help compel a mass of people to belong to or support a cause, without revealing how the organisers of that cause are motivated, without talking about how they describe themselves internally.

But that internal, ongoing group discussion about principles, identities, can quickly turn into ontological soup. My referent here is the classic of the feminist consensus organising tradition, The Tyranny of Structurelessness. Groups that attempt to organise by a rigorous process of total consensus in every decision, come to slow down, suffer groupthink, because people end up working around consensus informally and out-of-band, in subgroups formed by friendship groups. The formal consensus process becomes little more than a ritual of people who either know about a subtextual conversation or don’t, shouting about What We Need Now at each other. So WePrime for me is a strategy for being more circumspect about what is being assumed inside a decision making process, which hopefully helps to throw it off recursive, repeitive tracks which become much more about semantics than about goals and dreams.

Yet We can also be terribly useful. If a clear referent is provided, and maintained as something current over time, then it is convenient shorthand for spelling out peoples’ names.

People who’ve read Soren Kierkegaard and run across WePrime have said, “ah – click – Kierkegaard”. Among the many things that Kierkegaard said during his life was this (although, presumably, he said it in Danish; and on sight I distrust Victorian era English translations):

“What rules the world is not exactly the fear of God but fear of
Man. Hence this dread of being a single individual and this proneness
to hide beneath one or other abstraction, hence the anonymity, hence
the editorial ‘we’ etc.”

I sense that We is falling out of fashion in the discourse of power, of control, of contracts. When i first “got” WePrime, it really drew my attention to certain kinds of political statements. Now i seem to see those kinds of political statements less in the world: what i hear coming from those quarters is a new kind of emphasis on You.

This is an interesting factoid that S found out while attempting to bring a new kind of sophistication to the spam filtering on our email system, playing around with different linguistic analysis techniques:

Spam messages are almost identifiable simply by their relative overuse of the word ‘you’, in comparison with messages that are actually communicating.

When i am in a WePrime quandary it helps me to write terrible zen poetry. I notice that We, like suspicion itself, is a powerful dual device in English. One can refer to two kinds of We, in the same terms, appearing to have the same sense, looking the same in their actions, but with a very different quality of intention in the different qualities of We, and the ways in which We are used to induce an impetus to action in people around us.

Kierkegaard’s Fear of Man also seems to be falling out of fashion, as We regain some balance. The sense in which We can be used as a control instrument starts to recede, as We get the monkey off our backs. A different kind of integral We, that was always hidden underneath the dialectical We, starts to re-emerge. To notice a new kind of We emerging can be wonderful. To me this is another core topic that can’t be fruitfully examined, or understood, by staring at it directly. Then i think of that wonderful line from the Bruce Lee movie, Enter the Dragon:

“It is like a finger pointing away to the moon. Don’t concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory”

 

advaita, or so i am told January 29, 2006

Filed under: opensource, postgender, silly — jrandomhacker @ 4:24 pm

A friend of mine once took me along to a kind of postmodern sorority party in West Oakland. My friend was the only non-female at the party (he was DJing, and i think wanted me along as the functional equivalent of a “beard” – a “muff?”). The crowd were all peers, all about 10 years younger than me, and having a triumphant experiment with the cultural stance of lesbianism.

What blew my mind, was that everyone there was mimicking the polarisation of gendered self-representation which is in the world around them. They were either in baggy plaid shirts, jeans and shaved heads, or terribly, ostentatiously femme, long hair and lipstick and PVC miniskirts. No-one there really knew how to look at me or talk to me; you have short hair, but you’re wearing a skirt? Where do you fit? How do you fit? I spent most of my time at the party hanging out with a couple of gangster girls who didn’t fit either (long hair, but jeans and black t-shirts), who taught me to make the different West Oakland gangster hand signs, and tried to explain which ones not to make where.

Another friend took me to a transvestite party in the basement of a nondescript office building on the edge of the City. I’d never been in a scene like that before, but once my eyes refocused, i started to relax and have a great time right away. My highlight was, taking a break from the dancefloor and gossiping in a corner; my friend gleefully pointed out a particularly beautiful and unusual person across the room. “You see that girl, there? She’s really a girl!

In the course of what i do, because i enjoy talking about the toys that i make, i speak at a lot of open-source oriented technical conferences. More than once, especially when i started out, i’ve been billed as ‘Mr.’ on the programme. It often seems to be a default assumption about any active and vocal technologist.

It used to drive me crazy, when i first became a software hacker and started going to meetups and talks by Famous Geeks, how unbalanced the “gender ratio” was. I got used to being one of three women in a room of 150 people (usually me, the Lost Journalist and the Fearsome Stalwart), or the only woman in a gathering of 20 people. I saw one technical community i was involved in, really change shape, gain balance over the time i was there, following a slow momentum. I moved away for a long time, and when i came back to visit, the balance was gone again.

Ten years later, the balance does not publically, visibly seem to be getting better. I didn’t start speaking at technical conferences because i wanted to address this; i just wanted to spread messages about the tool-building techniques, the evocative prototype applications, that were burning a hole in my head. I used to think i got more slots than i “deserved”, because conference organisers are concerned about addressing gender balance issues in who they put on the stage. I come to realise that most people don’t even think about it.

At a big Euro Open Source conference last year, i got hauled in, right at the last minute, onto a panel on “Women in Open Source”. I felt abashed about it, because the other panellists were all Big Names with Big Affiliations. But that was not the only reason i did not think that i belonged there.
It’s such a difficult thing to resolve. Back in 2001 i met a lot of people from the original genderchangers – a group who’d all got together to teach each other computer recycling, linux sysadmin and hacking, because they felt more comfortable that way, had more fun, and got to throw off their dependencies. I tried for a while to start my own local chapter. There was an internal imbalance in the people i knew; they were either hardcore , Sun-trained network admin gurus, who weren’t really motivated by teaching because there didn’t seem to be much they could learn; or they were complete newbies, very enthusiastic, but without enough bootstrap knowledge to teach linux to each other collaboratively.

Recently, I hear a lot more people trying to make noise about the appearance and possible reality of gender imbalance in open source software culture. Gender Dimensions of FLOSS development was a recent summary article in MetaMute – they tend to notice a lot of things just before they come to the surface. The article claims that only 1% of people actively involved in open source software development are non-male. I struggle to believe that absolute; but even if the true figure (echoed in the balance at technical conferences) is 5%, that’s still really not very good.

This is one of the cores of what i am talking about, here on this blog and in the book, but it’s part of a nested complex of shared cores: not, i think, something that can be “fixed” on its own, especially by staring harder at it directly, by selecting highlights of hackers who represent an ideal of women’s engagement in the many different threads of how the open source software creation process, the open source culture process, generally work. I tend to think that the bar to casual contribution, of an improvement however small, however irrelevant, is often set too high; it takes a long time to bootstrap yourself into the position where you have the skills, and the rights, to commit to a project.

Ubuntu Linux seems to be thinking about this pretty hard – i see tabs on some of the system user interface saying things like “Translate this into your own language right now”. I wonder how this process works on the inside; is someone at Ubuntu always watching, being rapidly helpful, encouraging. I hope the people making even the tiniest contributions are being given a conduit through which they can read a message which says,

Your smallest action improved the life and effort of someone who’s working really hard at being committed to this.

 

There are many weird theories about The Singularity, but this one is mine. January 28, 2006

Filed under: postgender, silly, singularity — jrandomhacker @ 2:47 pm

It always surprises me when i hear that people have a 2012 fixation. It reminds me of one storyline in Philip K Dick’s “Confessions of a Crap Artist”, which i heard was based on a real-life sequence of events in California (to the extent that any sequence of events happening in California can be called part of “real-life”). A group of people are convinced that Everything Will Change, and that Only They Will Be Saved. They pick a definite place and time for it to happen, out of the ether. The protagonist doesn’t turn up at the meeting due to a nested complex of personal reasons. And what happens when Everything Still Looks More Or Less The Same? The group blames the person who didn’t show up; they start Talking About It Even Louder; and life goes on.

I decided that i had a weird theory about The Singularity back in 2002, when i actually read Vernor Vinge’s writing about it for the first time:

This is my theory:

How people look at, and talk about, The Singularity, is dictated by their experience of orgasm. Either it’s a one-shot, big pulse, big mess, and all over, or it’s a series of augmenting waves, each driven by the impetus of the last, without a definite endpoint, just a glorious supercession.

Of course even the best orgasm has to stop sometime. Then what happens? You nap for a little while, get up and have a snack, go to the toilet, and life goes on.

 

One Big Fat Pipe, and a Network of Small Holes January 27, 2006

Filed under: WePrime, postgender — jrandomhacker @ 8:48 pm

I heard how David Isenberg led the crowd at the end of the Emerging Telephony conference in a group chant of the Tim Bray coined mantra,

Big Fat Pipe /
Always On /
Get Out Of The Way

I remembered when I was talking with SA, about the problem of We – how We assume each other, and spend a lot of spare time talking about what We believe in, and how We define ourselves. He liked the idea of disrupting We semantically, but preferred the term ‘wee’; he said

I am always projecting wee onto people