Periodically at The Barbarian Group, a small team of new employees and veterans with varying skill-sets are brought together to work on Project Popcorn, a side project that embodies the inventiveness, technical skills, and values of the agency.
Within my first week as a developer for the agency, I was assigned to Project Popcorn, along with a senior art director, a senior copywriter, a creative director, and a technical director.
Cryptstagram is the resultant product of our teamwork. Cryptstagram is a web site that lets you steganographically encrypt a hidden message into any image, unlockable only with a specific password, and then apply glitchy Instagram-like filters to that image.
The National Security Agency whistleblowing story had just broken, and as a result we quickly became fixated on doing something involving cryptography and, to fulfill our artistic ambitions, on doing something involving the glitch aesthetic.
The glitch aesthetic is popular amongst our creatives and developers because it requires technical knowledge of formats and methods underpinning systems in order to then manipulate, pixel-push, and distort those systems towards the artist’s ambitions.
As a team we spent a lot of time discussing what tone we wanted to convey with Cryptstagram. How secure should it be end-to-end to pay respect to citizens’ cryptographic requirements and expectations of privacy? Should Cryptstagram’s filters create aesthetically-pleasing images or should they reflect entropy of input and interaction from the user? To what degree did we want Cryptstagram to be a statement about the NSA and privacy in general or just a reaction to the state of our relationship with technology?
In the end we decided on a reflective tone for Cryptstagram, emphasizing a common public desire to share stylized parts of ourselves in public but other parts of ourselves in private or semi-private. We should empower ourselves with stealth and style.
So, easily, a citizen could choose to encrypt her image with a message and save it without it ever touching an external server, then send that image via private means to intended recipients with a password that could be distributed in any number of ways. Or the citizen could share the image on Cryptstagram’s wall for others to see and even try to decrypt!
A perk of this open-ended design is that we can extend its utility: we (or you, via jsfiddle sandbox!) can add seasonally- or topically- themed filters for specific clients, a celebrity can release images with a password known only to fans, or people can use the Cryptstagram wall to create puzzles or scavenger hunts or just post encrypted messages publicly without drawing suspicion.
At The Barbarian Group, we’re invested in making things that are gonna be awesome, and in order to do so, we need to be just as able to wade through the technical limitations of CORS and CSRF as to create something people love to use and share online.
So, what creative uses can you come up with for Cryptstagram?
For last night’s Red Burns – Applications class, one of the group presentations addressed #OccupyWallStreet. I don’t usually speak in large groups anyway, mainly because I really, really hate fighting for my turn to speak, but #OWS is tough because it really makes me seethe to listen to people talk about it. It’s the same thing on Twitter. Even the group itself, which went to Zuccotti Park (I don’t believe in calling it Liberty Park till it has a breakthrough, and I think it fitting that they are occupying a private park named after a real estate mogul) often in order to document the experience and take part in it as well, was split on how it felt about the protest. A few classmates stood up to say that they are tired of protests and they don’t believe anything will ever change as a result of them, and they’ve seen it before from where they used to live (San Francisco, Phillippines, youth activist efforts). One said that they didn’t go because they didn’t understand what #OWS wants.
Maddening. I kept myself distracted by wrestling with a re-install of MySQL on OS X Lion, which I’d fucked up earlier in the day.
Here’s the problem I have with my fellow Americans with regards to #OWS. These same people, who spoke glowingly of the noble, courageous efforts being undertaken by the downtrodden working classes in the Arab Spring become strangely silent when it comes to American-born protests. On Twitter, I follow a lot of security people and people you would consider to be in the consulting, intellectual, and management classes. While they tweeted up a storm on the Arab Spring, presumably because of its implications for regional security, when fellow Americans voiced their disapproval with current conditions (which are, I think it’s still under-appreciated, historically bad in terms of income inequality and prejudiced against the public good, reaching levels only seen before the Great Depression), these people mocked them or ignored them.
It was the same during the summer and fall of Tea Party movements in 2009. And during the anti-war protests. Mocking or ignoring.
I went to most of the Tea Party rallies in DC. I was in DC during the inauguration, inauguration concert, OBL killing, government shutdown crisis, and other massive rallies (immigration, gay rights). The tenor of the city has definitely changed since Obama came in.
While I disagreed with the Tea Party (mostly I think they do not understand the role of public policy at all) and thought its invocations of history were bankrupt (read my blog posts here and here), I do think they were symbols that the Jacksonian school of thought is well and alive in America, and I felt sad that fellow Americans saw conditions as being so bad. The stupid two-party system, which has existed for, what, two centuries or something?, is now infused with corporate money and shadow organizations, introducing into our political DNA a pernicious political rift that only pits Americans against each other.
I do think that #OWS directly addresses the chief problems within the American system today. We are fortunate enough in this country that we do not have one simple demand, which is what people seem to be looking for. In other countries, this “simple demand” might be the removal of a corrupt dictator. That is the danger of singular cause movements. It focuses, essentially, on one person, or one group/class of people.
Saying you don’t understand what #OWS wants sounds precisely alike to me as when people say, “I don’t understand computers/science/math, it’s too hard.” Were you just supposed to know it intuitively? No, you have to go read about it and study and research it. There are two billion articles about why #OWS doesn’t have or want a simple list of demands. There are plenty of theories about whether they should seek specific issues later or just try to organize at this point. It should be noted that the Tea Party kind of fell off the rails once it was co-opted by politicians, was confronted for its fringe elements, and came up with its specific list of demands. Specific demands alienate people who were on board with some ideals but not others.
So saying you don’t understand #OWS is an intellectual cop-out. I am disappointed that master’s-level students would use this argument.
Another point which some of the group members who presented brought up was that while #OWS may not amount to much, it is still important in itself. The beauty of seeing the General Assembly, of seeing humans together, figuring out systems of hand gestures for communication or innovating low-tech solutions, forming working groups, blending internet viral activism with Occupied Wall Street Journal newspaper tactics; this is really important stuff. If I had kids, I would want them to see that shit. I would want them to see humans self-organizing, sharing, communicating, seeking a shared future. When I went to Zuccotti Park and to the Washington Square Park protests, that was the real deal fucking Holyfield, seeing humans do what they do best: transfer information.
Some people are waiting for heroes to emerge to lead the movement. They inevitably bring up MLK Jr. The problem is, if you’ve ever read about MLK Jr., most of his life was spent being extremely frustrated with the impact of his work. He was thrown into fits of despair often when he would attempt to organize and galvanize people and it wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t produce the results he wanted, either from getting the majority out into the streets, or in achieving political results. It wasn’t until things magically came together at some of the larger national protests that his voice took root and now the legend has taken over. But MLK Jr. was depressed during most of his time during the Civil Rights Movement. Being a “hero” is often a lonely experience. It ended in his assassination, and in JFK’s, and in RFK’s. If that is not a somber message about the role of heroes, I don’t know what is.
Anonymous has been interesting. It plays a fringe role in the Occupy movement, while it was pretty much center-stage on its own a year ago because of Wikileaks. I doubt many people actually saw V for Vendetta (like they didn’t see the Tea Party rallies or #OWS events either) which is the basis for the Guy Fawkes Anonymous masks that you see more and more these days. I think one of the most poignant scenes in that film is when the girl in the Anonymous mask is killed after she is caught putting up graffiti. After that, the social contract between the public and government breaks down, and the movie concludes with a sea of Anonymous masks converging in London, eventually overrunning the police and unmasking themselves to return to their real identities. Anonymous is some kind of Hobbesian manifestation that bothers people in that it reminds them that the strongest, most powerful man is still just a man, able to be brought down by the weakest, least important of men.
During a decade of post-9/11 hysteria, with all the stupid regulations from TSA, the newly-authorized secret spying on Americans based on mere suspicions, the corporate-endorsed wiretapping of internet service providers, anti-Muslim sentiment, and overseas military/intelligence/covert adventures, the anti-war movement barely registered. It was kept at bay by a respect for the warfighters and their tasks. It was kept at bay by apathy.
But most of all, it was kept at bay because very few Americans have ever actually participated in the armed services or known someone very close to them who has. Military bases are positioned well outside the normal paths and travels of most people, so unless military blood is in your family, you’ve probably never seen the sprawl outside Fort Benning or seen the old World War 2-era barracks or even seen many people in uniform except at sporting events and in Grand Central Station.
So these servicemembers have lived a silent decade, where friends have died, some have lost limbs, others have lost their minds. They can’t talk about it in public, because 1) no one will understand or 2) they will be put on display like they’re in a zoo. There is no shared sacrifice among the American public for military service. Just imagine how much more insular it is within AmeriCorps, Peace Corps, and other large civil service programs!
The people who didn’t protest out of respect for the troops, I question their logic. Had they shared the sacrifice, it would have been their necks on the line. Servicemembers aren’t really going to protest war — they volunteered to do service for the government. It requires attentive citizenries to defend the usage of servicemembers in warfighting for appropriate contexts. That civilians have abdicated their responsibilities towards the servicemembers of the U.S. is the ultimate slap in the face. But perhaps it also says a lot about the military, that it will continue to do its job professionally. The Army keeps rolling along.
So pardon me if I question peoples’ stated intentions for participating or not participating. Or maybe it’s not so much that, but the dismissiveness which those people give to OTHER people giving a damn about something.
I think that might be the only time I really get pissed. When people denigrate the efforts of others. When they put down or make fun of people who are trying to do something, anything, to make things better. That is the worst kind of cowardice, whether it’s born out of elitism or out of past failures or out of being afraid of future failures. Negative people tend to be reacting out of their own insecurities.
Maybe what topped the class off was sensing the disparity between the divided class and Red Burns, the mater familias of our program and a woman who’s changed the way thousands of people (at least) see the world. She is old and feeble now, and hard to hear, and definitely stubborn, but she obviously thinks #OWS is something important for us to pay attention to. But students, whom she is probably 3 to 4 times older than, ignore her hints that #OWS is a gamechanger. She has a keen eye and most importantly, has experience that is directly relevant to our futures, and yet I feel like she was being dismissed.
Back when I was at Georgetown, I was picked by my program’s staff to represent the program at the Achievement Summit, which brought together people like George Lucas, Bill Russell, Desmond Tutu, Sylvia Earle, Michael Dell, and many others, to talk to us grad students about what to do with the rest of our lives.
The overwhelming message was not that we should pat ourselves on our backs, but that we had a deep responsibility towards society. Given all these opportunities, privileges, and advantages, our role in life was to be leaders and to always look to better the lives of those less fortunate. We were told that our job was to take the hands of others and help them succeed as well. Our job was to use our talents and creativity and personal security to try things that were extremely risky, knowing they might fail, hoping to build something wonderful for the world. If we, the privileged few, were not going to take risks or to look out for others, then who would?
That resonated with me but I’m not sure how much it gets to others.
When I was in the Army, I had my clearance temporarily suspended (but got it back later, since nothing was officially wrong with it) because I was blogging and taking photos of my experience in Iraq. There weren’t the chilling effect regs there are in place now, which have stifled almost any word coming out of our overseas theaters. When I studied and worked in DC, my classmates and friends would refuse to use Facebook or other social networking because, mostly, they were afraid that employers would find out!
Now I would have trouble hiring someone who DIDN’T appear on social media, but I get that privacy is a big deal. You should still show up SOMEWHERE though.
Anyway, here’s the kicker. America is indeed the land of opportunity. You can come here as a poor immigrant and build a pretty good life for yourself and your family and your kids. But you will probably have to keep your head down and stay out of trouble. You will most likely not be able to have an opinion, or to campaign for the ridiculous idea of equal rights for all people. You will have to act in your professional life like you never drink or party, that you never have a controversial opinion. You will have to get slapped in the face and take it, because you understand that that’s what it takes to just get by and raise your family.
And my generation feels that tension at the higher levels. You better have a squeaky clean resume if you want to go into finance. All your outward correspondences better relate to your work (how many Twitter folks do you know who ONLY tweet about their work stuff? it’s kind of sad sometimes). You better fit in or else you’re not going to get paid. You won’t “succeed” in life.
I worry that kids coming out of higher education are ready to subvert their entire personalities just to get a job. One problem with income inequality is that it narrows your choices. Instead of being able to find employment in a variety of services or good production or data analysis or entrepreneurial endeavors, you have to pick health care or finance or business or law. Or you work as a barista. There’s not as much in between, particularly outside of the large cities. It hollows out society. And thus you have to jump through more hoops to reach the higher echelons. You have to keep your head down, calm down and carry on.
I don’t think any of us want to see the U.S. become a place where the calculus changes such that people would much rather set themselves on fire or stand off against the military because they have no hope of jobs, families, or future. Right now most people still have options (though with vastly increasing structural unemployment, I worry this will change).
I don’t fault the companies so much. They are doing what they should be doing. Making money wherever they can, sending lobbyists to live lavishly in DC to represent their core interests, to evade taxes as best they can legally. They are winning the policy war in DC.
Mostly it is government failing to assert itself as a balancer of public, private, security, innovation interests. We have a complete failure of political leadership. And while government protectionism of business stymies much of public ability to organize and voice its own opinion (since business employs much of the public), I still do blame at least a little the citizenry for not drawing the line somewhere.
We are just all too busy fighting for our own little Americas, instead of building a new inclusive American Dream. I don’t think any of us were raised to be overtly tribal, but the system rewards those who do.
This is all the prism that the nation sees the #OWS movement through. It’s a depressing state of affairs. People arguing for separation of corporation and state, for denying corporate personhood, for removing private shadow financing of political campaigns, for increased enforcement by government agencies tasked to do what they currently are not doing, for balancing out the business-government-public-media equation so that they are all properly warring against each other. These are not crazy concepts. These systemic problems have been identified and much has been written on the subjects.
I don’t think my point is that everyone must participate in #OWS, but that those who don’t should not condemn it or dismiss it, for whatever reason. It has fringe. Yes, of course. Everything inclusive has fringe. Fellow Americans are taking part and we owe it to ourselves to understand it. We owe it to ourselves to care about SOMETHING in this life outside of ourselves and the kids, products, whatever we leave behind. How sad is it to see our best and brightest, our graduate students and creatives and intellectuals, saying they are “tired of protest” or “don’t think anything will change”? Have they given up on life already? Don’t we want to see our children be proud of what we have accomplished as human beings? I want my kids to look at me as someone who gave a shit about something and stuck to it. Or, to be, as Bill the Butcher says, “the only man I ever killed worth remembering.”
So here’s a challenge I guess. Who do you want to end up being? Will you end up defending your own interests at the expense of a majority’s? What is going to end up being so important to you that you will do dumb things and sacrifice your time and humiliate yourself for, just because you believe in it? And do you want to be the kind of person who puts down the beliefs of others? Will you try to work with them to build something better? Or will you keep your head down? Are you your fucking khakis?
A final note. Our guest speaker, Frank Migliorelli, an ITP alumnus from way back, was a great speaker, the kind of person you want to work with. All the junky debate and politicking that people get engaged in melts away when around someone like this. He’s passionate about education, about the opportunities and cool new niches that one could do the next project in. You forget about all the other stuff and you just want to make cool things. I’m happy that he ended the class on a good note, and I hope that he and others like him win the good fight.
Ever since I downloaded my first MP3 in my freshman year of college in 1996, amazed at how small the file was (I think it was a Shaggy track), I don’t really think much has changed in the music industry with regards to copyright. The timeline is (pock) marked with the detritus of used-up and destroyed start-ups and companies that tried to find a way around the RIAA. Spotify and turntable.fm and others are the latest to find temporary ways to sidle into the prickly graces of the recording companies…until they are shut down or bought out and taken apart wholesale. Google, Apple, and Amazon, with their priorities being to build distribution platforms via hardware, are the only real challengers short of a Renaissance of digital thought in Congress.
The arms race between downloaders and labels has been escalated to a fairly sophisticated level, resulting in an unofficial detente in the courts. While I think to a large degree, even with the death of the physical act of interest in buying a CD, that the music industry has managed to formalize a lot of piracy through iTunes, Amazon, and other sources, what has been happening over the last fifteen years is defined more by what HASN’T happened than by what has.
The chilling effect is something I’m particularly sensitive about, since getting in trouble in the Army for blogging about my time in Iraq (though nothing was ultimately found to be wrong), and after witnessing the censorship efforts on communications networks during the Arab Spring and in Oakland during my time working for a Homeland Security contractor. The RIAA has lost most of its momentum (and the MPAA will soon enough be there too, but it’s still dangerous enough to conduct psyops and bully telcos into sending warnings to individual IPs), but it has certainly managed to turn artists against each other (not particularly hard, I guess), turn music fans into private consumers of music because they can’t remix and share and admit to downloading illegally, but most importantly perhaps the RIAA has turned its product, “art”, into something smeared as commoditized and fake, while at the same time making the act of obtaining music illegally an act of political defiance.
Rohter’s NYT article revealed two things to me that I think are worth investigating further: 1) the recording industry itself has significant disagreements about the public face of its position, and 2) the current Congressional trend is to argue in favor of extending the length of copyrights. The first is instructive because, since we can’t rely on artists to really share much of an opinion with each other, even in their attempts to unionize, we might find that the solution might be as simple as lobbying to prevent the current revolving door of recording industry executives into public policy positions in Washington (FCC, mostly) where they will argue for their RIAA masters. The second is interesting because it’s another representation of a chilling effect: block information and art from reaching the public domain where it can be freely remixed and reused.
Thankfully the internet has provided enough creative off-the-radar networks of music fans and technology to allow “illicit” sharing to continue. While I do hope that artists can be paid for their works, I also think their main input to society is their labor — that is, relying on a one-off artistic creation to provide a lifetime of income is absurd, and that any human’s main contribution will not be one or two projects, but a continuing font of creativity and execution — in other words, labor which is rewarded with at least some basic regular wage.
The Garnett/Meiseles article was a rare take from both the copyright holder and the copyright abuser. I understood Meiseles’ take on defending the context of Arauz’s act, but I strongly disagree with her. Frankly I think she assumed far too much credit for Arauz, as if she became his guardian after taking his picture. She certainly did her job as a photographer, and even followed it up with figuring out who the people were in her photo. I would love to see a digital connection between people, objects, and locations in photos and the context for them, available through some sort of touchable interface, so that I could touch the kissing couple in New York City after World War II ended, and find out how they met, and what happened to them afterwards (they were strangers, I believe).
But once that photo was put out to the public, it’s game on. It’s up to be remixed. It’s up to be reinterpreted, reused in different contexts. I thought immediately of Shepard Fairey’s famous HOPE portrait of President Obama, which now (somewhat contentiously) hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in DC now.
Did Meiseles ever criticize non-Americans, outside of her legal system, for remixing the image outside of her own private context? There was not evidence of her doing so in the article, nor would she be able to do much about bringing a Sandinista rebel to, er, copyright justice. Meiseles was taking the position of a journalist here, but not of an artist, for she cared more for the importance of investigating the context than reimagining the emotion the image evoked. She should be happy someone else found her image so powerful as to use it for another work. It begs the question of whether we need alternate systems for rewarding people, beyond a simple copyright or job system. There is also the gift economy and the reputation economy. If Meiseles were properly rewarded in the reputation economy (for taking a powerful photo), then perhaps this would un-burden the hulking inefficient system we currently have, which rewards in only one currency, the almighty dollar.
Naturally I loved Lethem’s essay for Harper’s, for its subtlety in addressing the underlying issues and for calling for the practical necessity of a gift economy. Copyright holders who defend their turf have, in my opinion, made defiance and rebellion “cool” in the eyes of downloaders, anti-corporatists, etc. I fully welcome their attempts to blow holes in the oligopoly which exists, and the mere acts of developing software and networks to circumvent weak and hamfisted attempts to block them have become acts of art in themselves. Today’s artists and musicians are too beholden to the system to veer very far from it, so one is not likely to see many artists in today’s generation challenge copyright regimes without a lot of help from others.
But I would expect the generation of kids who grew up in the downloadable world of art (and in the age of Anonymous and 4chan) to create their own music outside of the formalized system, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the system assimilated that style of music as well, but it would bring along with it, perhaps, a better model for rewarding artists and avoiding chilling effects against their fans.
[Note: The New York Times article was made available via PDF for class, but it does not include the second page. Clicking the PDF’s second page link will take the reader to the web site though. Suggest inclusion of second page into PDF for future students’ accessibility to the whole article.]
One excellent point brought up during our breakfast presentation in the CCT lounge (their journal, Gnovis, posted a write-up of it by Margarita Rayzberg) was that one coping mechanism for lack of privacy controls on an SNS or within an intrusive state is to create fake profiles and characters and pseudonyms in order to operate online.
(Outside our discussion, I want to quickly add, why Asians are more comfortable with avatars, pseudonyms, and anime in representing themselves online?)
Anyway, in my privacy controls post, I showed just how extensive Facebook’s privacy controls are. This allows people to feel more secure about putting more information into Facebook’s databases because, whether they use those controls or not, they feel as though they can control their own data.
But Brazil uses Orkut, which has fairly weak controls relative to the rest of the spectrum of SNSs (Myspace excluded). I am not sure if Brazilians fear government intrusiveness into their day-to-days, since I haven’t done the research yet, so if they are using fake profiles quite often, then it might be because they are uncomfortable sharing info that those in their peer group or real life may view. We see this phenomenon here in the US with Myspace users. Younger users are encouraged to create fake profiles to hide from their parents, unauthenticated classmates, and other outside, threatening players in their lives.
I would argue that pseudonymity has an unappreciated role online. Anonymity has been with us since the start, back to “on the internet, no one knows you’re a dog”. Certainly much has been made about verified identity online, to facilitate trade and commerce — it wasn’t long ago that people refused to shop online for fear of fraud, an irrational fear as it turned out.
Pseudonymity has been discussed at length as well, as most outsiders see it as escapism from reality and compensating for missing traits in real-world personality. But it also allows, at the identity layer level, for a blend of authentication and anonymity to make up for the lack of identity tools to properly set the level of privacy you’re comfortable with online. You may want to be anonymous to all those who know you in real life, but you want to be known online within a certain community. So you take a handle or nickname and create a reputation around it.
The Yahoo!/ISD fellowship was originally created with the help of Michael Samway, Yahoo!’s VP and general counsel of human rights efforts and a former Georgetown MSFS alumnus, in response to a case of censorship by the Chinese government with the collaboration of Yahoo!.
The NYTimes this weekend published a long article called “Google’s Gatekeepers”, which describes a case involving Google’s YouTube property and Turkey’s blocking YouTube because of videos from Greece that defamed the founder of modern Turkey, which is a crime there. This spurred a look into how Google decides which videos get taken down and why.
What should companies do about issues such as this? Should they concede to governments’ wishes in order to stay in the market, particularly one as delectable as China’s? If they decide to stick to principles of free speech and user protection, they risk being banned, while their competitors could decide to concede and gain the lost market share.
For now, multiple stakeholders have formed the Global Network Initiative in order to collaborate and work together to ensure freedom of speech and privacy; it remains to be seen who will cooperate with the group and who will break apart, and whether they can exert enough leverage on governments to back off from censorship.
The Little Guy
What I am primarily concerned with in my research is how all this affects the little guy. You, me, those in BRIC countries. How do different countries’ users approach social media usage, knowing the risks they take both socially and from their governments? From some discussions I’ve had (but with nothing concrete to back it up), it seems as though Chinese users have a good sense of where the line is when saying something potentially risky in the government’s eyes. It’s hard to draw such a line when it comes to what one can say within his social network, though, since there are many more actors and attitudes and roles of relationships with that person. In other words, what you would say if you knew your mom was listening and what you would say if your best friend or boss were listening would be markedly different. At least you know in China fairly reasonably what you should and shouldn’t say in order to get the government censors concerned.
With that in mind, I think my privacy model holds well, although I’ve learned from our CCT chat and various other discussions to modify some of the language and words used, since each word has very specific meanings and inferences.
Your True Identity
The last thing I want to talk about here is with regards to hiding your true identity, as in your real life identity. In my “What’s Shaping the Internet” class (also in the CCT department), one of my colleagues did a presentation on Chinese censorship. One thing I started thinking deeply about through the pre-class reading was that foreign companies use tunneling and encrypted networks to pass through the Chinese firewall (or “Golden Shield”) in order to phone home to their offices. Both technically (encrypted tunneling is hard to defeat or wiretap) and commercially (if foreign companies have no privacy, then they would object and would pull business out for fear of losing trade secrets or more), encrypted networks and VPNs within China seem untouchable.
This ability can’t necessarily be said for regular Chinese citizens, who must find a secure connection to use in order to start tunneling securely. But it brings up the interesting question: how much tunneling do Chinese citizens engage in?
And would it really help them as far as SNSs go if they could tunnel out? SNSs are huge in China and by statistics we’ve discussed earlier, Chinese use social media far more than Americans do.
But at some point, can you really escape who you are? If you could post about yourself on computers based in a country that protects free speech, you’re still at some level talking about metadata that links back to your identity back home. If you were to scrub all your information of your real name or pseudonym, it would not take much work to find out where you live, what you do, and who you know. It would then not be much of a stretch to find you. Your personal data is horribly non-anonymous whether you’re Publius or Joe Klein.
So we’re led back to the beginning of this post, resorting to using pseudonyms to create completely fictional characters that anonymize our real life personas.