In Pursuit of Authenticity in the Digital Age

I often wrangle with the idea of digital authenticity. How do we know who we're talking to online? How do we know they are accurately representing themselves? Does it matter? As an ambitious graduate student, I devised and carried out a study investigating the creation of "authenticity" on the Internet. I wanted to see if I could fake my way into an online community. How'd it turn out? I was banned; they weren't happy with me. My exaggerated emulation of other members marked me as a rat right off the bat. But it's a study that I'm prepping to revisit in my wizened old age. I think these issues are salient as we struggle to tame the digital beast that has taken hold of our lives.

In this vein, the WSJ recently ran a story concerning the intersection of public and professional lives in social media. By now you've certainly heard the horror stories (and perhaps know someone personally who's experienced a social media mishap)—for example, the guy who interviewed with CISCO and tweeted about the potential cons of the job, the intern who called in sick and then posted photos of himself at a Halloween party, the Eagles employee who should have kept his commentary to himself instead of posting his feelings to Facebook, and of course the professor whose Facebook statuses have been construed as threats against students. More and more it seems that the web is the place we turn to reveal ourselves. Behind a computer screen it's easy to feel invisible, when the truth is that we've laid clear digital trails concerning our interests, amassed scores of followers, and now can broadcast our location with the push of a button. We're anything but anonymous.

An article on CNET talks about the growth of Generation X-hibitionist, who according to Harris Interactive have few concerns about privacy and the Internet: 59 percent were happy to provide personal information to marketers. Compare this data to 1998, when 80% of people cited privacy concerns as a obstacle to shopping online. And digital and social media developers are encouraging this new-found comfort level:

At a technology conference in January, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg told his audience that Internet users don't care as much about privacy anymore. The 25-year old said that, in the seven years since he started the company, "people have really gotten comfortable not only sharing more information and different kinds, but more openly and with more people—and that social norm is just something that has evolved over time." Zuckerberg defended the company's decision in December to push users to reveal more, saying "we decided that these would be the social norms now and we just went for it." 

Thinking back to "earlier" days, digital sociality seemed in many ways to encourage individuality while protecting identity. You could create multiple screen names to cater to different aspects of your personality and keep them all separate if you so chose. (Sex fiend by night, book worm by day? Or vice versa? No one needed to know!) The emergence of avatars further encouraged this. Green skin, pink hair, surf clothes—if those attributes presented a closer representation to who you felt you were, you were free to roam cyber-space in your new skin. This removed some of the limitations we may experience in the physical world in terms of expressing ourselves—I don't think my coworkers would look at me the same if I showed up wearing green face paint.

[Avatar screen for MSN Minimise Me. © MSN]

So Zuckerberg may be right. It appears that we have been moving in this direction for some time because diminished privacy standards encourage a truer representation of who a person is. And perhaps these relaxed rules about representation online are crossing over into the physical world in the form of a more relaxed view about personal representation. Perhaps some time in the near future it'll be okay if I decide I want to wear green face paint all the time—it wouldn't raise any eyebrows on the street, people would still sit next to me on public transportation, and I wouldn't get referred to HR for an evaluation. But we're not there yet. And until that time, perhaps what we are perceiving as relaxed rules about online privacy is an attempt to author an authentic self online?

Tending to Your Digital Remains

Thinking about your demise isn't pleasant, but we do it. We plan to have assets distributed and debts settled, we make care arrangements for loved ones (including pets), and we may even decide what we want to take with us. But what about your digital remains? You know, your Facebook account, your online gaming characters (i.e., World of Warcraft, Second Life), your banking profile, and your assorted memberships throughout the web. What becomes of these accounts? Are you comfortable having just anyone logging in to close them out? Checking your email? Are you comfortable with the idea that the character you worked so hard to build in Second Life could disappear because someone elects to close the account. If you're concerned, you should be. Increasingly, an integral component of our lives is our digital footprint—our digital persona, the identity we craft for ourselves online by posting photos, tweeting updates, sharing geotags, playing video games, and any other element of daily life that we transact online whether it be banking, shopping, research, or even blogging. Worry no longer—the March edition of Wired offers tips on managing your digital remains:

At least three companies — AssetLock.net, Legacy Locker, and the charmingly named Deathswitch.com — have arisen to keep customers’ passwords, usernames, final messages, and so on in a virtual safe-deposit box. After you’re gone, these companies carry out last wishes, alert friends, give account access to various designated beneficiaries, and generally parse out and pass on your online assets. Digital remains that are not bequeathed to an inheritor are incinerated, closing the book on PayPal accounts, profiles, even alternate identities (especially alternate identities: You don’t want your mother knowing about, or worse, playing, the wife-swapping giant badger you became in Second Life).

Essentially, you pay one of these companies to manage your digital persona. They require you to confirm on a regular basis that you're still alive. Once it is determined that you've passed, the applications take the appropriate steps to distribute or destroy element of your digital footprint.  There are definite pros and cons to these services: On the one hand, it allows you to have final control over your digital materials, on the other hand it serves as a reminder of how tenuous our web existence really is, which is rather contrary to the way we have been operating. We tweet and update statuses on Facebook to establish ourselves. We're warned constantly that what you post online can come back to haunt you. Yet, these services offer erasure, and they make it seem simple. In the digital age, if we erase our web presence then what do we leave behind? Can we hope for any trace of our existence—our passions, our interests, our connections?

Revisiting the Nativist Stance: Lessons From History for Brand Recognition

As I have discussed before, this is a city that's constantly in flux. The City That Never Sleeps, The Crossroads of the World, The Information City, The Port of Many Ports, The Media City—these nicknames that imply fluidity. New Yorkers are adaptable. Sure they may grumble at subway delays, but they rarely ever bat an eye at the reasons for delays. New construction happening on the street? It quickly becomes part of the background, part of the social fabric of the city. So it's surprising when change causes a flutter.

Recently, Walgreens announced that it would be buying the Duane Reade drugstore chain. Duane Reade is deeply integrated into the city. Taking its name from two city blocks, the pharmacy has been around since 1960. Originally just a few stores, it's now hard to walk three blocks in either direction without seeing its familiar sign. While Walgreens has more stores throughout the country, Duane Reade has thee times more stores in New York City than the other chain, according to a NYT article. The drugstore just launched a new promotional campaign that emphasized its connection to the city: The slogan, "Everywhere you go, Duane Reade," spins the chain's ubiquity as positive. And even while some New Yorkers comment on commercialization, there are others who are wondering what will become of the brand. Will Walgreens replace Duane Reades? What will become of those former rival stores strategically located across the street from each other? And what does it mean for New Yorkers who have come to recognize at least this one element as a mainstay of their New York existence. Duane Reades are like the hotdog vendors, the yellow cabs, the breakfast carts, and the umbrella vendors who come creeping out when it rains to hawk their wares—what does the social landscape look like if these familiar store fronts come down.

I just finished reading Five Points by Tyler Anbinder, and the stories of this neighborhood remind me in some ways of the feelings associated with this particular transition. Each wave of immigration brought to New York City a group that would fight to be settled here, to ultimately be called natives. Each group would look down with contempt at successive immigrant groups and magnify their faults. These newcomers didn't know the ways of the social order, they didn't understand what it meant to earn a living here, they didn't get the character of the place. According to some historians, this sentiment underlies on the most violent gang encounters in New York City history—that between the Bowery Boys and the Mulberry Boys/Roche Guard, which has come to be known as a conflict between so-called nativists (those born in New York) and the new Irish Catholic immigrants. Of course, the story is not as simply as this disagreement, but there appears to be some truth in this origin of animosity, and it's one that has been played out again and again with each new group.

This conflict echoes in the Duane Reade buyout. Walgreens is simply a new interloper, trying to inject itself in the social landscape. Who are these new comers? And will they understand the character of the city? They're not natives though they have a chance to manipulate such an identity for themselves. The Duane Reade brand may have actually been damaged in the sale. After all, touting yourself as an integral element of the city and then selling to an out-of-state rival hardly inspires home team backing. (Look what happened with the Brooklyn Dodgers—there are still broken and bruised hearts all throughout Brooklyn.) Still, Walgreens has a reputation it can capitalize on and an opportunity to introduce change slowly, secure its hold, and negotiate its presence as integral. They just have to play their cards right: by embracing the New York brand, they have the opportunity to seed the market here, while first making structural changes to the store (e.g., layout) before migrating to the Walgreens signage. And New Yorkers will follow, and we'll accept it. Because we are a city of change.

Tell me about changes you're seeing in your neighborhood. Has a rival chain moved in? What has it does to the character of your neighborhood? To the people who frequent the stores? And what do you think Duane Reade's chances of survival are?

Want International Respect? Unwrap a Mummy

"I want this work to be perfect so the world will respect us."
- Zahi Hawass, Egyptologist and Secretary General of the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities (Unwrapping King Tut)

I took a break from the Olympics to tune into the Discovery Channel special concerning the work Dr. Zahi Hawass and his team have been doing with Tutankhamun's mummy. Researchers have determined that Tutankhamun's death was likely due to malaria and a degenerative bone disorder. Using DNA testing, hieroglyphs, and artifacts, Hawass and his team set out to fill in the missing chapters of the boy king's life. The documentary proved to be more a testament to Hawass' authority more than anything else, showing us how media can be mobilized to establish ownership and authenticity. [Right: Tutankhamun's funeral mask. Credit: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen.]

Throughout the program, Hawass demonstrates extraordinary care and thoroughness that surely even non-archaeologists can appreciate. His persona is pensive, analytical, and deeply immersed in the world of Egyptian antiquities. Though he's a rather controversial character, with every carefully crafted scene that made it past post-production, he demonstrates that Egypt is more than ready to take control of her antiquities and manage her past. The leading quotation for this post represents this sentiment beautifully. Hawass has commanded the attention of the international community, and he will not sit idly and let this opportunity pass.

Discovered in 1922, Tutankhamun's tomb was an amazing archaeological find. The pharaoh was surrounded by riches that revealed much about ancient Egypt, but little evidence has been found regarding his family. Hawass and his team painstakingly assess archaeological and genetic evidence to determine likely candidates for Tutankhamun's relatives from a a number of unidentified mummies. Hawass is shown hustling through the desert to the old tombs, he pours over cartouches for clues about King Tut's family—he's a hands-on guy, still very much involved in the day-to-day of managing Egypt's cultural resources. He has to do it all because he previously rejected requests for DNA testing from other research groups. Why? Tutankhamun's mummy is fragile, having been broken and pieced together by the archaeologists who found him (as Hawass makes it a point to note). In Tut, as Hawass leans over him ever so reverently, the question of who is best suited to care for Egypt's history is most poignant. It wasn't Egypt that damaged Tutankhamun. Hawass, as the representative for Egyptian antiquities, makes it clear that he takes responsibility for the welfare and status of the mummies. [Left: The mummified feet of Tutankhamun. Credit: Ben Curtis/AP.]

Most of the first installment of the documentary dealt with establishing Hawass as an authority capable of managing cultural resources. It was a bit dry, and seemed a bit like a video job application. I nearly didn't tune in for the second installment, which was more of the same except that it featured two additional experts who enthusiastically supported Hawass' findings. The documentary adds to the publicity surrounding Hawass and his work, and while the man can appear contentious, I do admire his single-minded resolve to reclaim his national heritage. He's on Twitter and Facebook, and he's utilizing all available channels to get his message out. What are your thoughts about how academics can utilize social media to make research more accessible to the public? By employing popular social media applications, Hawass has been able to tap into an entirely new "fan" base—he's speaking to any and all Egyptian enthusiasts and done away with the hierarchy that knowledge management sometimes imposes. [Right: The mummified face of Tutankhamun. Credit: Ben Curtis/AP.]

Not all academics have the ability (or budget) or need to utilize these methods of self-marketing, but it might be useful in connecting their research to a larger audience—and popularity could potentially translate into funding. Is there something to be learned from Hawass' methods? As for the documentary, it was interesting, but I wouldn't sit through it again. It will give you a nice overview of some of the challenges researchers encounter when working with DNA material from ancient sources, but it was clearly edited for a specific purpose.

Digital Reflections in Everyday Life

Two items in the news have caught my attention recently:

• First, Fisher Price has announced a computer for the Sesame Street viewer: The iXL opens like a book, has fat, colorful icons on the right side and buttons and a speaker on the other side, and—wait for it—it has a touch screen! The apps available for the device so far include Story Book, Game Player, Note Book, Art Studio, Music Player and Photo Album software. It's being touted as an iPad for preschoolers. 

• Second, Barbie's next career path will be as a computer engineer. Indeed, Computer Engineer Barbie carries a hot pink lap top and sports matching hot pink glasses. Her other accessories include a Bluetooth headset and a smart phone. Barbie has entered the digital age.

This is the age we live in, and honestly, it's not so surprising that we're prepping kids at an ever younger age to live digitally. The comments were particularly interesting though [note: to view the full comment, click on the link]:

- My two-year-old wants to know if [the iXL] has WiFi and a browser with video codes so she can watch YouTube. And maybe a video camera so she can Skype with her grandparents. If so, she's sold. If not, she's going to continue to beg for my phone.

- Kids out grow clothing fast. They outgrow technology faster. This is a toy that the parent desires not the child. The kid would on short order want their own ipod, cell phone, desktop computer, laptop computer, and iPhone before they graduate elementary school!

Barbie got her share of comments too:

- This job would have been cutting edge 20 years ago. Now, she's doomed. Why wasn't social media expert one of the choices?

- I'm for anything that'll open up options for girls. Plenty of females would probably prefer a work environment that has more interaction between people. But of course there are young women who would enjoy a work environment where 1) results are easily measured by actual results (your software works!) and 2) where the work is very well paid. I know women computer engineers who became millionaires before they hit the age of 40. How many careers can boast these advantages?

- Will we ever get past the sexism of pink?

Do these products realistically have a place with the younger market? Can they honestly expect to engage the interests of a group that is probably more comfortable with their parents' smart phones than the parents themselves? Regardless of their success, these types of products do serve as a reminder of the age we live in. Barbie in particular, has taken us through the ages as a babysitter, cheerleader, fashion model, paleontologist, army ranger, NASCAR driver (10 years before Danica Patrick took to the track, FYI), presidential candidate, and last but not least, an American Idol winner. Gradually, she has helped broaden the career dreams of little girls who may look to her as a role model, even while coming under fire for a too tiny waist and too large bust. But she also reflects a particular aspect of life—our infatuation with reality game shows/competitions, for example. [Above: Computer Engineer Barbie © Mattel.]

These items may wind up in the toy bin after a few uses, but they're also indicators of the mainstream. What examples of technology being marketed to younger users have you encountered recently?