DDoSes Aren’t Free Speech

Anonymous is an interesting and problematic group. I often agree with their aims and goals. I have a much more varied reaction to their tactics and methods — their street protests have often been masterpieces of surrealism, and also quite effective at lampooning their targets, but their online intrusions and DDoSes annoy me with their legal and ethical dubiousness.

But I’ve never before had a problem with their basic logic. This time, I do.

Anonymous has put a petition on We The People (the White House’s — damn cool — open petitions site), asking the Obama Administration to recognize DDoSes as a legal form of protesting. Their petition reads, in part:

Distributed denial-of-service (DDoS), is not any form of hacking in any way. It is the equivalent of repeatedly hitting the refresh button on a webpage. It is, in that way, no different than any “occupy” protest. Instead of a group of people standing outside a building to occupy the area, they are having their computer occupy a website to slow (or deny) service of that particular website for a short time.

First off, the one part I agree with: DDoSing isn’t hacking. Nor is it cracking; it really doesn’t take any technical skill at all. There have been automated DDoSing tools for quite a while, and people have been renting botnets for at least 8 years now. Botnet time is even cheap enough to be within the financial grasp of the average teen, as long as they’re not doing it every day.

So being able to knock a site off the Net for a few hours isn’t some kind major technical achievement. It isn’t even a minor one. It basically just means you know how to use a search engine, and you’ve got a handful of Jacksons to wave around.

But on to their major point: That DDoSing a site is just like staging a protest in front of it. It’s not. In fact, there are fairly few ways in which they’re equivalent, and two crucial ways in which they aren’t.

A protest doesn’t block entry
A standard protest, or even a picket line, doesn’t block people’s access to the place being protested. I should know; I work in San Francisco’s FiDi, and I work for one of the largest banks in the US. Do you think we haven’t been picketed and protested, multiple times, by Occupy in the past two years? There have been times when I had to walk past hundreds of people to get to the door of my workplace.

But I could do so, without even feeling unsafe. The building was still usable. With a properly-executed DDoS, the site becomes completely unusable, by anyone, for any purpose. That’s what “denial of service” means: you want to get in? Dee-nied! Whereas one of the distinguishing features of a legal protest or picket is that it is porous: It does not actually block passage, but merely ensures that anyone passing by will notice the protesters and their message.

A protest sends information
Speaking of “message” — a protest is a means of speech in itself. Protesters can chant, carry signs, and send their message to people who are entering or leaving the targeted place. But a DDoS causes the complete absence of communication. Not only can the targeted site not communicate with anyone, the people launching the attack don’t get to send any message, either. In fact, there’s no way for the average user to tell the difference between a site that’s being DDoSed and one that’s just down because of a technical problem. They certainly don’t come away going, “Ah, now I understand who is protesting against this site and why”.

The real-world equivalent of a DDoS wouldn’t be a standard protest. It’d be to padlock the front doors of the business and hang up a “closed” sign — and then have the protesters vanish. No signs, no message, and no way for anyone to get in or out of the building.

Actual protests strengthen democracy, by supporting the free flow of ideas. But DDoSes? They do the exact opposite. That’s why making them a legal form of protest would be a tragic, misguided mistake. The analogy doesn’t hold.

How Did I Do This Year?

At the end of last year, I published a blog entry called “A Failed Goal“, in which I talked about how much of my writing had dealt with gender issues, and how I wanted to increase that percentage. The year’s rolled around, and now it’s time to take stock again.

Last year, I ran 2 gender-tagged posts out of a total of 24, for an 8.33% gender rate. (Unless you counted the final post, which would make 3/25 for 12%, but I said that wasn’t really legit.) This year, I dropped my output to only 13 posts total (not including this one). But 3 of them were tagged as gender-related, which makes for a whopping 23% gender rate.

I’m not too happy with how little I posted and blogged this year. (There was a four-month hiatus in the middle of the year, as I was busy getting married.) In some ways, I really think the low number of total posts contributed more to my high gender percentage than anything else. But it’s something.

One other odd note: That “A Failed Goal” post got tagged “gender”, because there was a bunch of stuff in the middle about what it’s like to wade through all the misogynist muck that’s necessary for backing up various statements about sexism in FOSS, startups, and tech. But this post? This one doesn’t really get the tag, because it doesn’t actually tackle gender issues at all, even in that minor way. This one is just me navel-gazing — or, more charitably, doing a retrospective for purposes of analysis and tracking.

(And if I hadn’t established the schema of not counting the retrospective posts in the percentage, this one would bring my total to 3 out of 14 posts, not 13, for a percentage of 21.42%. Still well above my 10% target. Maybe I’ll shoot for a 15% target next year?)

The Place Where Flow Goes to Die

My employer has multiple offices in different places, so people who I’ve worked “with” for months can still be newcomers to my physical work environment. A visiting co-worker recently said, “From your Twitter feed, I assumed this office would be, like, the loudest place ever.”

Am I really that sensitive? I started wondering. I started keeping track of it.

When I came in to the office the very next morning, I could overhear three separate conversations. It turns out this is not at all unusual — a situation like this happens at least once per day.

Then came a link to a Stack Overflow jobs post (now sadly expired). The amusing part was supposed to be that, after “ninja”, “rock star” and other types of badass programmer, now they were advertising for a “Chuck Norris developer”.

But I was struck by the check marks on their Joel Test score: After they went on and on about how well they treat their developers, it was still no surprise to find that one of the three items they didn’t have a check-mark for was “Do programmers have quiet working conditions?”

Programmers hardly ever have quiet working conditions. Anywhere. Read More »

Why Are We Abandoning Menus?

A while back, Ubuntu’s Mark Shuttleworth posted a blog article called “Introducing the HUD. Say hello to the future of the menu.

Shuttleworth mentions how a menu is “the M in WIMP and has been there, essentially unchanged, for 30 years.” The clear implication, of course, is that the time for a change has come — or is even long overdue. After all, we have to update our interfaces every few years, right?

But what about the other three items in WIMP?

Windows have changed even less than menus. Icons and pointers have changed hardly at all! But aside from Microsoft’s bizarre decision to trash menus entirely in favor of the Ribbon, we now have Ubuntu also heading for this strange new interface pattern. Why the hate-on for menus, so specifically?

A little more recently, Microsoft’s Windows 8 interface has done away with the Start button — again,the entry point for the menu that most users are most familiar with. If you hit the Windows button on your keyboard, it will activate a thing that’s now called the “Start Screen” instead of the “Start Menu”.

Icons are still king. Everyone wants to have an app, even if their site or service works better as a platform-agnostic, HTML5 web site, just so they can have their icon perpetually sitting on your phone’s main screen, reminding you that it exists. Icons ain’t going away any time soon.

And on the Web, if you ask me, we’re using windows too much — even in places where we shouldn’t be. A Lightbox is just a way of trying to have a sub-window in your app or on your site. Sometimes, you need a modal window or dialog like that, but I’ve said many times before that I think a lot of sites and designers overuse the hell out of Lightboxes, just because they can and because “it looks cool”.

So: Why are we abandoning menus? What have they done that’s so heinous?

Shuttleworth talks about some of the design considerations that went into the HUD, and it’s clear that he isn’t just switching away from menus for the hell of it, or as a whim based on fashion. (Indeed, he also points to Microsoft’s Ribbon as a “new alternative to the traditional menu”.)

I remain unconvinced that the traditional menu is really as broken as some other UI designers seem to believe — and I remain completely unconvinced that the Ribbon is any better than menus! (I find it much worse, and I’ve complained about it before.) I haven’t gotten a chance to try the HUD, so I can’t opine on that.

“That’s So… TwenCen”

A couple of weeks ago, on my way to work, my attention was caught by the SF Examiner‘s headline, about a local political scandal. It seemed like something out of The Front Page.

Alternative weeklies still seem to have a place (though I can’t put my finger on why), but I suddenly looked at the institution of the hard-copy, daily newspaper and thought of Clark Kent in the ’50s, of the heyday of printed journalism, and thought: “That’s so Twentieth-Century”.

Okay, not to toot my own horn, but I actually thought, “That’s so TwenCen” — a term I picked up from some sci-fi novel or other. I’m not really sure which one, but it was definitely not Gregory Benford’s The Sunburn, as cited in a WordReference forum post — I haven’t read that novel, so the term must be in use by at least one other sci-fi work. And of course, BoingBoing’s Cory Doctorow has picked up on it (hell, it might be one of his books that introduced me to the term in the first place).

Which just shows that we really do need a term for “the Twentieth Century — viewed as an antiquated, passe and unfashionable time”. A few other possibilities:

  • That’s so… Twentieth.”
  • “That’s so last-century.”[1]
  • “That’s so last-millennium.”

I’m open to other suggestions. But for now, I think “TwenCen” has the right ring to it.

As an aside: Are we ever going to decide that “Fin-de-Siècle” now refers to the 1990s, instead of the 1890s? Or is that term too irretrievably tied to “the end of the Nineteenth Century”?

Newspapers — by which I mean those hard-copy news-dailies, printed up and waiting to be bought from newsstands on city street-corners — are so very TwenCen. And while we’re at it, so are phone books, both the Yellow Pages and the White Pages.

What are some other things that are desperately TwenCen?

[1] Update, Oct 31: This one is definitely a live usage within the tech field — it turns out that just two days after I posted this, Linus Torvalds used it in a Google+ post about laptop screen resolutions, saying, “I still don’t want big luggable laptops, but that 1366×768 is so last century.” ↑↑

Let’s Hear it for Ms. Mayer

One of the biggest names in science, tech, engineering and mathematics (STEM). One of the biggest names in modern American business. One of the biggest newsmakers of the year — Forbes magazine said: “Her move to the top spot at Yahoo was one of the most hyped appointments of 2012.”

Marissa Mayer is breaking all kinds of boundaries, some of which aren’t even gendered. The youngest CEO of a Fortune 500 company, for example. She was also the youngest person ever listed on Fortune‘s annual list of America’s 50 most powerful women in business. Back in the STEM world, she was the first female engineer at Google (and employee number 20).

As Yahoo!’s new CEO, she’s in a nearly no-lose situation. On the one hand, everyone knows Yahoo!’s been chowing through CEOs like they were going out of style. If the board fires her 18 months from now, she’ll still have lasted at least twice as long as any of the previous three CEOs! If she has to resort to desperate measures, so what? For example, many observers (like Marc Andreesen) think saving Yahoo! will require laying off over half its employees. So if she can do it by only chopping a third, she’ll be way ahead of the game.

To be honest, even if she fails, people will still just say, “Hey, she had an impossible task. Nobody could have succeeded; she did a damn good job with what she had.” And if she somehow does succeed? Well, then she’ll have worked a miracle, and she’ll absolutely deserve the high praise I’m sure she’ll receive!

That’s a very nice situation to be in.

But finally, there’s one big door Ms. Mayer has just broken down: The first Fortune 500 CEO ever to be pregnant and give birth while still holding office. And one of the best signs of just how thoroughly she’s flattened that door is the reaction — or, more, the utter non-reaction — by some people, as pointed out by the New York Times:

Some people who study women in business were reluctant to discuss Ms. Mayer’s pregnancy, saying that it was irrelevant to her ability to run Yahoo and that the children of male chief executives were not news. (emphasis added)

Now, that’s what progress looks like!

Marissa Mayer isn’t just an inspiration, and an example that geeks really can rise to prominence in business. She’s also someone who’s done all that while younger than I am — which makes her not just an inspiration, but a living, pointed question: Why haven’t I accomplished more?

And that’s the best kind of inspiration.

“Fast” Is the Enemy of “Good” — And “Accurate”, and “Deep”, And…

Wanna see a perfect encapsulation of what’s wrong with journalism, and particularly online journalism, these days? Just take a look at this piece by TechCrunch’s Ryan Lawler. Pay particular attention to the parts where he says:

I would be following someone else’s story half a day later, and no one wants to do that. I wrote back, explaining this: “…At this point, my inclination is not to cover, considering other reports were filed 12 hours ago.”

I don’t normally like to call people out so publicly and harshly, but in this case, Mr. Lawler provides such a glaring, textbook example that leaving it unchallenged would be a disservice to society.

This man purports to be a journalist, and yet he makes it clear he’d rather be first than anything else — it’s more important to him than accuracy, than depth, than balance, than giving a nuanced exploration of the issues or a clear and detailed rendition of the events that occurred.

In fact, he doesn’t merely claim that breaking the story first is the most important thing. He makes it sound like it’s the only thing. If he can’t be first, or within an hour or two of the break, he’d just as soon not run the story at all: I’ll be damned if I’m gonna follow someone’s story 12 hours after the fact.

Lawler claims it’s not just him. He says, Reporters are a prideful bunch. No one ever wants to follow someone else’s story., and points out that as of the time he wrote his article, nobody else had written about it, either (except for the one story that had broken the embargo). So I’d like to make it clear: I’m not saying that Mr. Lawler is any worse than other journalists — only that he is being more honest and blatant.

The real problem is modern journalism’s insistence on speed, and on “scoops”. This tendency is nothing new; the term itself dates back to 1874. But Internet news, and particularly blogs and Twitter, have kicked this tendency up to eleven. In the race to deliver the news faster and faster, we’ve sacrificed… pretty much everything else. And now we’ve hit the logical endpoint of that fallacy: If you can’t deliver the news first, don’t bother delivering it at all.

Which is sad, pathetic, and wrong. It might surprise Mr. Lawler, but his lament for a “ruined” launch was the first time I’d heard of Lyft. If he’d actually written about the service, instead of about how sad it was that he couldn’t get out the first story about it, I’d have read it with interest. (As it is, he seems to have come to his senses a day or so later, and penned a perfectly serviceable article talking about the imminent launch. It’s much better than his earlier “startup launch ruined” piece.)

In fact, giving up on competing on speed is the right thing to do. There are so many other things that are far more important in journalism. I’ve already named a few: Accuracy. Depth. Detail. Nuance and balance. They’re all mentioned way back in paragraph 4.

And it’s not like there isn’t any market for those things. Consider another major current story, the Apple-vs.-Samsung verdict. Lots of news outlets posted the US$1.05 billion award within seconds of its being handed down, but it took Pamela Jones and Groklaw to really look at the situation and note that the jury “goofed”, the “results were crazily contradictory”, and “something is very wrong with this picture”. And Jones’ analysis hasn’t gone unnoticed; Madisonian contributor and Villanova University School of Law Professor Michael Risch specifically calls out Groklaw at the end of his own most recent post on the trial, saluting them for “hav[ing] not only really detailed information, but really accurate information, and actual source documents. That combination is hard to find. (emphasis in original)”

My question: Why is it so hard to find? Shouldn’t this be considered basic, core competency for journalists? Reporting facts? If Pamela Jones (whose major training seems to be paralegal, not journalism) can do it, then why can’t so many professional journalists?

How about we start holding them to a higher standard?

Journalists, consider: If all you bring to the table is speed, you’ve already been beaten to the punch by Twitter. Find a better market differentiator.

Portable Computing UI Redux: Editing Photos While Walking Downtown

One thing Instagram’s done for me (or to me): It’s made me much more prone to editing images on my phone. Which means I now have more data on the real-world equivalent of Charles Stross’ speculative incident in the beginning of Accelerando:

[Manfred is] standing in the plaza in front of the Centraal Station with his eyeballs [smart glasses that now seem like a prediction of Google Glasses] powered up…. The square smells of water and dirt and hot metal and the fart-laden exhaust fumes of cold catalytic converters; the bells of trams ding in the background, and birds flock overhead. He glances up and grabs a pigeon, crops the shot, and squirts it at his weblog to show he’s arrived. The bandwidth is good here, he realizes; and it’s not just the bandwidth, it’s the whole scene. (emphasis added)

I’ve written before about what the hell kind of UI he’s using to tell his systems to actually do all this stuff. One thing I noted was that, working on a modern smartphone, “Cropping is pretty much out of the question, although someone could write an app for it.” But that was two years ago, when I was using a Palm Pre… over 6 months before Instagram even launched their first product.

Fast-forward to this Monday. I was walking down Market Street and saw a statue that I felt like grabbing a picture of. I took the pic with my phone’s standard camera app. Then I decided, what the heck, why not post it on Instagram? When you import a photo from your Android Gallery into Instagram, it “gives you the opportunity” (i.e., forces you) to crop the image so it fits their 1:1 aspect ratio. While I was doing the cropping, I noticed: There was some text in there that was really kind of distracting. I wanted it out of there. Read More »

Is It Getting Better? Or Do You Feel the Same?

I don’t normally want to “harp on” gender issues in tech by doing two posts about them in a row, but I’ve gotta write about this while the news is still kind of current. In my last post, I wrote about the Geeklist fail and the Sqoot/Boston API Jam fail. At the end of my post, I wrote: “I think it’s getting better”. I mentioned that the reactions to those two fails had been much more feminist and progressive than previous ones I was aware of.

Since then, there have been two more incidents about gender and tech. And the first one is a near-perfect rebuke to Geeklist’s Sanz and Katz, who showed an almost textbook example of how not to respond to criticism. Chad Whitacre instead shows a pretty good example of how to do it right, and earns himself Geek Feminism Wiki’s “Cookie of the Week” award.

Testosterone Becomes assertEquals

Seven years ago, Whitacre created a testing framework for Python. It runs on the command line using curses[1]. When it came time to pick a name for his testing framework, Whitacre decided on Testosterone and called it “the manly testing framework for Python”. Which was vaguely amusing, until his friend @velociraptors pointedly asked: “what, exactly, makes it manly?” There was a little bit of polite back-and-forth on Twitter, in which Whitacre tried to explain his reasoning.

He did not get offended, he did not condescend to her or get huffy… and after sleeping on it, he decided to change the name of his framework. He posted on Twitter saying, “Sorry for the sexism”, and then wrote an announcement and explanation of why he was renaming the software to assertEquals.

What She Really Said

The second item is Jessamyn Smith’s “What She Really Said” bot, designed to counter a “That’s What She Said” bot in her workplace’s IRC channel. This one is less of a total win, because honestly, she shouldn’t have had to write her bot at all. Her initial requests to co-workers to turn off the bot were met with the usual “It’s fun! You should lighten up!” dismissals. Read More »

What to Do When the Tech Failboat Sails

The tech world is no stranger to occasional outbreaks of Sexism!Fail, but the past two weeks have seen a rare double instance of it. Naturally, I’ve got to speak up. By the way, for anyone who missed the events, here are a pair of quick recaps:

And now, my responses to these items, and to some of the reporting surrounding them.

Get Mad, Make Noise

In both cases, the problems were flagged, and then ultimately stopped, because people spoke out about them and publicly called the sexists to task. In the second case, it took just one person speaking out to raise the ruckus that revealed Geeklist’s founders’ sexism and rampaging entitlement issues. In fact, their own issues were part of what made it so effective.

One point that hasn’t been addressed much is the insistent demands of Geeklist’s founders that Shanley Kane contact them privately instead of airing the issue on Twitter. If Ms. Kane had gone along with that, Sanz and Katz wouldn’t have had to listen to her at all. They wouldn’t have to worry about the fact that every entitled, arrogant response they made just dragged their public reputation further down into the gutter. They could have made their subtle, implied threats about her job in private, where nobody else could see how chillingly[1] creepy they[2] were. And when they were tired, they could have just shut down the conversation, with no consequences.

But Kane was smart enough not to fall into that trap. And besides, she was right: As she pointed out to them, their video was “in public and it merits a public response.” A public insult does not get to demand a private response. Once it’s out there on the public Internet, on the street… that’s where the conversation is. Read More »