When I was 19, I thought I had nothing left. I was lying on a bed, stricken with mono, wearing sunglasses. I was behind on a Greek history term paper that I would never write. It felt monumental: 10 pages, footnotes, indices; now I routinely write its equivalent every weekday. My 19 year-old self might have had a heart attack back then if he had known that a decade later he would be flinging words around by the millions in Google Docs – if not from horror, then from jealousy, at the ability to churn out drivel, poetry, and everything in between on-demand.
Although writing is relatively easy for me for now, the looming panic that amplified my mono days in 2005 has not died off yet. It’s there when I fear a wave of edit-laden email replies, whenever I recall the awful device about “writing like someone is watching over your shoulder,” when I’m pressed up against deadlines. Every paper still seems like life and death. I can’t not care, and I hate it. I want to dash everything off and head home. I still care what readers think and yet sometimes I wish they would just despise me outright so that I could admit defeat and stop trying so hard.
The past lives on in my 19 year-old’s endlessly reimagined nightmare of paper writing. Sometimes it’s an ebook about circuit boards that I strain to finish, at other moments it’s a stupid blog post that’s due by the end of the day. The current me would never just not do a paper and run away, but too often I wish I could just fling caution to the wind like I did in the last months of teenaged life and say “I can’t do it, so what?”
Maybe it’s “professionally” stupid. But my entire time in the working world has been a disappointment anyway. I wasted the second half of 2009, after graduation, trying to network and apply for as many jobs as I could, everything from a magazine editor to an office assistant. Thousands of resumes later and 10s of pounds gained, I got an adjunct teaching position and felt overjoyed not because it was great (it was $1,700 a semester!) but because I didn’t know what I should feel after reversing a seemingly un-reversible process of rejection. It was the Ides of March 2010, and I was in a hot studio apartment, crying reflexively.
2010 was a little better than 2009. I was working, I was out of the house, as George Constanza would say. I spent hours writing lectures and earmarking books that I was teaching. By January 2011, though, I was back in the wilderness, all those dark late afternoons with the Blue Line trains rattling by outside and me gaining more weight and feeling embarrassed that I had even gone to college to come to this. It’s been 5 years since perhaps the low point of my post college life, my dazed time at my sister’s graduation when I was still looking for my first full-time job and barely able to afford to keep that same bedbug-infested studio apartment.
Perhaps my odd feelings toward the hypothetical liberation of “giving up” is the result of memories of what it felt like to try harder than ever, to write every cover letter with fervor, customize every resume, write all the assiduous follow-up notes and thank-you letters…and get absolutely nothing in return. I lucked into a software job through circumstances that I cannot reproduce. I had basically given up at that point and someone helped me in December 2011. Effort had failed, so why not try apathy?
If I ever think about quitting now, it’s exciting and terrifying. At some junctures, it feels like I would never get another job, ever, if I quit what I have currently. This seems absurd but somehow I can see how it would play out. My pooled resentment and burnt out demeanor would just leave me unable to do anything.
These feelings about college and the work world are well-worn topics on this blog. I can’t let them go though, because whenever I feel unhappy the sequence of unfortunate events always leads back to that stretch from 2009 to 2011 when it was like I was rewriting that 2005 term paper episode, only this time I WAS finishing the assignment, turning it in, and finding that the reviewer was interested in doing nothing but berating me for a lack of skills or a substandard answer to Part 23 of a multi-part application.
I can be pushed to tears thinking about what if I had just majored in something else, or ditched the ridiculous grad school debt to instead just try my hand in some faraway city out west. Still, my life has turned out alright in spite of my years-long rage at being unable to do almost anything other than last resort gigs. I have a house, am married, etc. So I don’t know why I can’t shake the disappointment label I always give myself. Maybe because trying hard always seems to accomplish nothing, and yet I always feel like I have to write that paper, grind out that assignment, whatever, and it’s so draining.
On the night of Feb. 9, 2016, two old men from the Outer Boroughs easily won the Democratic and Republican primaries in New Hampshire. Even a few weeks prior, this outcome was beyond comprehension for Beltway Insiders, who clung to the notions of yet another Comeback Kid moment for the Clintons and a burst of Momentum for Marco Rubio.
What has unfolded in the subsequent states, on both sides, makes the NH outcome look more important by the day. It was a springboard for Bernie Sanders’ unprecedentedly uphill challenge to Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump’s splintering of the shaky GOP coalition. The Sanders challenge in particular has revealed the breadth and depth of the challenge to “End of History”-style neoliberal politics that until recently seemed to have been entrenched beyond threat.
Yet on that night, segments of the tech world/knowledge economy/creative class – a group whose demands cast a growing shadow over U.S. politics – were ensconced in deeper matters, asking the hard questions like: Was Colonialism Bad For India? Marc Andreessen, a venture capitalist who sits on the board of Facebook, started things of with this:
“Denying world’s poorest free partial Internet connectivity when today they have none, for ideological reasons, strikes me as morally wrong.
– Marc Andreessen (@pmarca)February 10, 2016&
This is fairly tame compared to what was to follow. Still, it outlines what often passes for big political stances among the tech elite:
- The confidence that their every move, no matter how self-serving or capitalistic, will benefit the world, and that impedance of any such action is a blow against equality, progress, and the Internet of Things itself.
- The notion that there is no “ideology” any more, apparently since all moral and political matters are settled; anyone who disagrees with them has “ideology,” whereas they are post-ideological Vox readers and lovers of Grand Bargains.
- The use of concern-trolling for the poor, as what Branko Milanovic has called an “ethical sugar-coating over their economic interests which are perfectly well served by globalization”
Andreessen was referring to India’s decision to block Facebook from pushing its Free Basics program to the country’s Internet users. Free Basics is neither free nor basic; it proxies access to Facebook and a few preselected services as “the Internet” (showing how fungible this term really is), and allows the Silicon Valley firm to in turn extract potentially billions in revenue from tracking and selling the data of some of the world’s poorest people.
As a FB board member, Andreessen’s position here has predictable contours. Despite his dismissal of “ideological reasons,” though, he flung around some serious ideology with a follow-up tweet, saying:
“Anti-colonialism has been economically catastrophic for the Indian people for decades. Why stop now?”
As one replier aptly noted “You know what was really catastrophic for India? Colonialism.”
The British Raj was a genocidal regime that killed millions while enriching the world’s largest empire. Andreessen skirts over this and even seemingly rationalizes it through his condemnation of anti-colonialism. But his views are set in even greater relief when one considers that the sort of global capitalism that he and others continually push for has been a disaster for India, both during and after the colonial era.
As of 2012, 3,000 Indian children died every day from starvation. Every decade or so, the country loses as many people to food shortages and illnesses as died in the entire Great Leap Forward. Nevertheless, The Narrative about India is always one of people being lifted out of poverty by capitalism (especially the messianic powers of smartphones and “the Internet”) and saved from the supposed scourge of socialism, which is often conflated with Maoism and Stalinism.
The thread of “the conversation” that Andreessen spurred is bleak. His VC comrade Benedict Evans joined in to talk about the “Hindu rate of growth,” and accused his interlocutors of “chauvinism.” Evans has previously wondered aloud about why it was that we decided slavery was wrong, and he once spent 3+ hours on Twitter insisting that San Francisco was a place where there was nothing to do. He once bemoaned the Bay Area’s lack of high-end carpet shops in between his usual drivel about how important the latest updated to Snapchat or WhatsApp is.
The White Man’s Burden positions of Andreessen and Evans as well as their quick pivots to seemingly knockout counterarguments – “you’re a chauvinist,” “you don’t care about poverty” – are hardly outliers. Very Important Tech Person Anil Dash, author of such illuminating commentaries as a piece about why movie theater shushers are “wrong,” has become infamous for his attempts to tie Sanders supporters to the far-right, and for Evans-style “[responding to tweet]: no, but the touch of [chauvinism/antisemitism/bro-ism/whatever] is interesting here, you proved my point.”
Why are members of the tech world often so reactionary when it comes to politics? I’ll propose a few possible reasons:
1) They spend all day lionizing and defending the most powerful companies in the history of the world
The tech media is remarkably uncritical of Silicon Valley. The race-to-the-bottom labor practices that prop up titans like Apple and Uber are all but invisible in conversations about “innovation,” as if the concepts were all about white collar workers changing the world by sheer force of will, and not decades of trade policy making, military adventuring, and think tanking that has exploited precarious labor populations the world over.
Meanwhile, companies like Tesla are fawned over in embarrassing pieces that never note the company’s fundamental reliance on government subsidies. Tech writers also never point out the inherent conservatism of initiatives such as Google’s “moonshots” program, which relies on ideas from sci-fi (part of the allegedly “soft” realm of the humanities) to fuel projects doomed to fail because of the risk they pose to shareholders along with the fact that for some reason they’re chasing a Star Trek script. There’s nothing more conservative than insisting that you already know what the future will hold, and that that thing is old sci-fi concepts brought to life by advertising dollars – themselves the product of a business model (essential to Google, Facebook, and so many other darlings of the “innovation” economy) that would not be unfamiliar to a TV exec from the 1950s.
Entire blogs such as Daring Fireball often sink, for days at a time, into a mire of defending Apple from almost every conceivable slight. That particular blog’s author, John Gruber, has made fun of small publishers threatened by Apple’s (entirely self-serving, as a slight to Google) embrace of ad block technology, blaming them for their backwardness while assigning no blame to Apple, the world’s wealthiest company with unmatched ability in the tech world to drive uptake of its favored technologies. The FBI legal case spurred DF into a long string of naive posts about how Apple was taking a moral stance rather than one that was in the best interests of its shareholders.
2) They are natural allies of horse-race coverage, “momentum,” and every other awful Beltway politics cliché
This point probably seems wrong to you. After all, wouldn’t the endlessly “technical” minds of the Valley be more of a kind with FiveThirtyEight and other outlets that peddle “data journalism,” than the long lines of gut-conscious pundits like the ones skewered so well by Carl ‘’The Dig” Diggler of Cafe.com?
Maybe not. Ben Thompson, who I have criticized before for his defenses of Amazon’s cruel workplace culture, produced this gem about the Iowa caucuses a few months ago:
no Rubio was GOP winner tonight. Social conservatives who won Iowa don’t matter, and Trump will fade
– Ben Thompson (@benthompson) February 2, 2016
Somehow, he managed to peg all three candidates incorrectly, buying into the absurd “momentum” argument for Rubio. Gruber, later on, entertained a similarly inane line of reasoning about Hillary Clinton’s enormous gaffe at Nancy Reagan’s funeral, at which she praised the former first lady for starting a conversation about AIDS.
It was all a coldly calculated political move to make people recall the awfulness of the Reagans, Gruber argued, and not, well, obviously bad politics toward some of the Democratic Party’s most important constituencies: the LGBT community and young people. Here’s how he responded to my own point about how the remark inflamed HRC’s tortured record on LBGT rights:
She only has to better than the GOP (some of whom, like Rob Portman and Dick Cheney, approved the LGBT cause before she did)! This race is over anyway! This attitude could be the epitaph of the once-egalitarian Democratic Party. Also, this tweet could be a great time-bomb if Sanders somehow makes a comeback (hence the screenshot rather than the embed).
Tech journalism is defined by a related torrent of breathless coverage about “game changers” and “innovation.” These words are often tossed around when talking about whether, say, a new UI on Snapchat or the continuing refinement of Amazon’s online Sears catalog could usher in a new epoch in human history. The thinking that goes into pieces with such lines of argument is often on par with political journalists debating who “won” a presidential debate.
It’s word salad, trying to will a position, but it is very fascinated with its own cleverness and import. This outlook doesn’t have patience for the unpleasant stops and starts of democratic politics, and instead buys into the messianic power of “cutting-edge,” “innovative” products and statements and, crucially, the generic narratives that crop up around them.
3) They are the new ruling class
Thomas Frank’s new book “Listen, Liberal” is an excellent guide to how tech culture’s obsession with “innovation” has spilled over into government and especially into the two major U.S. political parties, in the process making social democracy nearly impossible to even get on the table without a mass movement like the Sanders campaign. For all the talk of “innovation,” much of the tech elite is perfectly happy to continue sticking with the Reagan-era tax rates, deregulations, indifference to antitrust laws (Amazon and Google could not exist otherwise), and trade policies that made their fortunes possible.
As a result, you get remarks like those of Andreessen and Evans, who see in the global spread of capitalism not just an economic but a moral cause celebre – a notion that Facebook et al. should win out over government regulators because what’s right for the super-rich is right for the country. It was heartening to see the pushback against both of them on Twitter, and of course there are many pockets of resistance to the tech elite, including many non-U.S. governments wary of firms like Google, as well as writers such as Evgeny Morozov and John Pat Leary who have made an art of demolishing Silicon Valley nonsense. But there is still a long way to go to pull out from the current reactionary politics.