Ejo #133 – R.I.P. WhatsApp

When I was 21 years old I was involved in a carjacking.  My boyfriend Allister and I had driven from Melbourne to Sydney in his old poo-brown, stationwagon jalopy so that he could play in a squash tournament.  The car was an absolute piece of shit, with a loosey goosey gearbox and sloppy brakes, but it got us up there in one piece. The first day there, Al was given a lift into the city where the tournament was being held.  The plan was for me to drive to the local station and catch the train into town to meet up with him after his matches. 

When I got to the train station parking lot, it was full so I did a slow lap.  I remember noticing a large Maori guy bending down beside a white vehicle and figured he must have a flat tyre.  Poor guy, I thought, and promptly forgot about it as I slotted into a newly vacated spot a few cars down.  Yay!!  I grabbed my bag and looked up to find the large man I’d seen earlier, standing right outside my window.  I startled in my seat, but didn’t immediately think the worst.  He leaned down, so that his face was level with mine, and started saying something.  I wasn’t loving the direction that this was headed, but I still had no real reason to be worried.  I acted dumb, but he made the signal to wind down my window, so I reluctantly cracked it open. Pointing to his bulging pocket, he very politely explained to me that he had a gun and that he needed my car and could I please get out so that he could take it from me.  Turns out the situation actually was as bad as it had appeared to be. 

You know the cliché about your life flashing before your eyes when you’re about to die?  That did not happen to me.  What did happen was a tsunami surge of adrenaline coursing through my body that focussed my mind into a supercomputer; equations and analyses occurred at the speed of light.  I was calm.  Time slowed. 

What?  Were?  My?  Options? 

I got out of the car.  He just stood there, an inert human mountain of about 6’8”.  I looked up at his face and saw that his eyes were glazed over.  Drugs!  My mind whirred.  I asked him if he was OK?  I guess he was not OK because he reached his arms around me and enveloped me in a big ol’ bear hug.  Yup, right there in the parking lot.  My body pinned and my face smooshed up against his chest, my mind continued to race, assessing the situation, formulating ideas.  I asked him, “Do you need me to drive you somewhere?  I can take you.”  He stepped back and nodded, relief flooding his face.  And thus, our fates were sealed. 

I got back in the car picturing, in my mind’s eye, scenario after gruesome scenario in which I would deliberately crash the car into a tree, or a parked car, or a wall.  I fastened my seatbelt, repeatedly imagining his body flying through the windscreen, at speed.  In real life I watched him moving, extremely slowly, around the front of the car, and just like that a new plan emerged.  I was gonna get the fuck out of there.  I was shaking so hard it took me several attempts to get the key into the ignition, but eventually I started her up, jammed it into reverse and floored it.  I didn’t even check to see if it was clear behind me.  I just wanted to get the hell out of there.  Sadly that wasn’t on the cards for me.  The engine redlined, but the car didn’t move.  My heart, which I’d been gagging on at the back of my throat, suddenly plummeted into my rectum.  I looked up through the windscreen at my would-be carjacker, who had suddenly snapped out of his slumber.  I was freshly in his sights.  I chucked the car into reverse and tried again.  The car squealed like a stuck pig, but went nowhere.  Again.  I tried two more times, stalling the engine in my panic.  The noise in my head was building into a violent crescendo.  What the fuck is happening??  Why isn’t this car moving??  And then… I remembered.  I had to hold the gearstick in place, otherwise it would keep popping out.  FUCK!! 

I started the car a final time, as my new buddy approached the passenger side door and tried to open it.  He looked mad.  I was so insane with fear at this point that I just froze when he put his fist to the glass.  I do remember thinking to myself, there is no way on god’s green earth that he’s going to punch through that window.  He pulled his fist back in slow motion.  I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed a little, and next thing I knew I was being showered in broken safety glass, thousands of sharp little shards of confetti scattered all over me.

I’m pretty sure it was at this point that I went into shock.  The fear quietly slipped away, replaced by numbness, as the great hulk of a man at the passenger side of my boyfriend’s shitty car declined the rather easy option of reaching in and opening the door with his hand, in favour of diving in through the window head first, his entire upper body landing in my lap.  My bare legs were scratched and bloody from all the broken glass, but that was the least of my worries.  He yelled into my crotch, “You shouldn’t have done that!” before awkwardly righting himself, as the gun fell out of his tracksuit pocket into the footwell.  I think he’d forgotten about it, but you can rest assured that I was hyper aware of its existence.  I apologised profusely (as one does in these social situations), and desperately tried to come up with a new plan.   What the hell was I going to do now?  I went with the amoeba-brain option of pretending that we were cool and that I was still happy to Uber him to wherever the hell he wanted to go and that it had all just been a big misunderstanding.  And he seemed OK with that. 

“Just drive”, he said. 

I was, as I mentioned earlier, a bit numb by now.  I don’t know why, but I continued to allow the gearstick to pop out of place, and I continued to keep stalling the engine.  The whole while screaming I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I could sense that he was starting to get a bit edgy, but he was also definitely still under the influence of something soporific, and I thought to myself (in yet another brilliant round of decision making), that I could take advantage of that, so I just kept screaming and popping, screaming and stalling.  And in that space, a new plan blossomed.  I would make a run for it.  My reactions were heightened, his were dulled.  It would work. 

I waited for the right moment, and in a beautifully choreographed series of movements, I unlocked and opened my car door, unclicked my seatbelt, pulled the keys out of the ignition and fucking legged it!!!!!  In my panic, I ran straight up to the first car waiting for a spot in the parking lot, jumped in and screamed, “DRIVE, PLEASE!!!”.  We took off and I saw my wannabe carjacker still sitting in Allister’s passenger side seat, bereft.  His eyes were sad, his mouth agape.  Poor motherfucker was having a pretty bad day, and I had just betrayed him for the second time.  As we rounded the corner, my relief was tempered by the dawning realisation that I had just escaped one grisly situation only to end up in a strange man’s car, in an unfamiliar city.  But my hero was a lovely guy and we drove a big block before returning to the scene of the crime.  I was thrilled to see the flashing blue lights of a police car in attendance, and no sign of my assailant. I profusely thanked my rescuer and made my way back to the car. 

Long story short: the cops took my statement and, as they dropped me off back at the hotel, Constable Catherine turned around and said to me, “You’re a very lucky girl.  You really should have just given him the car”.

Back in our hotel room I drew a bath and lay in the shallow tub, in the dark, for a long time. Just processing what had happened.  Why hadn’t I given him the car?  Why didn’t I just hand over the keys and walk away?  The only answer I’ve ever been able to come up with is that the car wasn’t mine to give, and that it wasn’t his to take.  Now, please don’t think I’m suggesting that anyone else ever do anything as stupid as risk their life for property.  What I did was stupendously dumb.  Still, some part of me feels almost righteous that I had the balls to stand up to someone and say, no, you can not have my shit. 

So, let’s talk about WhatsApp.  If a thug came up to you on the street with a gun and demanded that you unlock your phone and give it to him, I’m sure you would.  No-brainer, it’s just a phone, right?  Not worth dying over.  What if a clean-cut guy, wearing a blue Facebook uniform, woke you up in your bed in the middle of the night, asking to please have access to your phone.  Just so that he could have a quick squizz at your contacts and their home addresses, phone numbers and emails.  Oh, and perhaps he’d also swipe through all your photos.  Maybe even check out those sexy selfies you took that one time (hey, no judgement from me).  He might feel like having a look at your browsing and purchase history.  Would you be cool with that?  What if he promised that he wouldn’t go anywhere near any of your WhatsApp chats, locations or photos.  Pinky swear.  Would that sweeten the deal? 

I have a feeling that none of that would be cool with you and that you would probably decline such a request.  Right?  Some stranger, in your home, looking through your private shit?  Uh huh, no thanks.  But now consider what happens if you continue to use WhatsApp after the 8th February.  A behemoth, rapacious, faceless corporation, already worth half a trillion dollars, will data-rape your mobile phone, 24/7, in every single orifice.  If you wouldn’t hand your unlocked phone over to a stranger, then why would you let Facebook do the exact same thing?  We all need to keep in mind that Facebook is not our friend.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a huge fan of WhatsApp for a long time.  It’s super secure, there are no ads and it’s free.  What’s not to love.  Yes, Facebook acquired the app in 2014 but as far as I could tell, the dumbasses hadn’t figured out how to cash in on it.  And I was loving that, coz… fuck Facebook.  Late last year, a friend in a WhatsApp group I’m part of blew my mind with this statistic: ?Sixty five billion WhatsApp messages are sent every single day.  My response?

My question was answered less than a month later when WhatsApp announced an update to their terms and conditions.  They immediately faced a huge backlash from users, who interpreted the change as meaning that Facebook would now be able to access WhatsApp messages, photos, locations and contacts.  The company issued an FAQ on their website, assuring people that wasn’t the case. 

All this refers to content within WhatsApp – what about the stuff they want to get their dirty hands on, outside of that app? No mention.

Me?  I’m still bailing.  My problem with WhatsApp’s new terms was never that Facebook might be able to access my WhatsApp messages.  These messages are end-to-end encrypted which means they are virtually unhackable.  Nope, WhatsApp’s security is not under scrutiny here; but their privacy most definitely is.  My concern is all the other data on my phone that they want to access and share with Facebook and other apps across their platform.  And I simply do not want them all up in my shit.  At all.  Previously, I was able to opt out of their data-perving.  But, unless you’re in the EU, from the 8th February 2021, it’s either opt-in or be locked out.  And I don’t really respond well to that kind of ultimatum.  Also, you know what else?  There are other options out there.  WhatsApp was great, I really enjoyed using it.  I was a fucking cheerleader for the app, over the years building up a really large network of people that I communicate with regularly through it.  But bitch, you are not the only ho on the street. 

The two main contenders are Signal and Telegram, and both have experienced huge surges in new subscribers since WhatsApp made their announcement.  Which one is better?  I’m Team Signal all the way, and I’ll tell you why.  Of the two, Signal is run as a non-profit, meaning it exists thanks to donations made by users.  I like this a lot because it means that, unlike Facebook or Telegram, they aren’t driven by dollars (and, if you want to donate, you can do so here).  Signal is also the most secure of the three messenger services, having invented the end-to-end encryption protocol that WhatsApp is founded upon.  Telegram doesn’t even default to encrypted messaging.  You have to opt-in to it for each chat.  It also doesn’t allow for encrypted group chats, so overall it’s far less secure.  Signal is also the most private of the three apps, meaning they store absolutely none of your user data.  ZERO!  There are other ways in which Signal prioritises its users’ privacy, including hiding your online presence (so that people can’t see when you’re using the app), not supporting location sharing, inbuilt app-locker, self-destructing messaging and facial pixelation to protect identities.  Signal, Signal, Signal, oi, oi, oi. 

“Data linked to you” means data linked to your actual, personal identity. Where privacy is concerned, Signal wins, hands down. Charts published courtesy of Apple.

Sure, it’s been a monster pain in my ass going through almost all my contacts to let them know that I’ve switched over to Signal.  But I did it, because I need to keep in touch with my family and friends.  I live away from my home, in a country in which it hasn’t been really easy for me to find new friendships.  After deleting Facebook, I relied exclusively on WhatsApp to keep me connected.  And in a way, I feel like that was one of the reasons they delayed their trademark chicanery.  The more entrenched WhatsApp became, the more reliant people became on it to communicate, the harder we would find it to leave when Facebook did decide to let themselves in the backdoor (did someone say 65 billion messages a day??).  And I’ve seen that with a few of my contacts just throwing up their hands and saying that it’s too hard for them to switch over.  They feel like they have no choice.  And that makes me so sad for them. For us all. Are we really so complacent about our own personal information (and the information of our contacts) being bought and sold that we just accept it, because it’s more convenient?  Are we really happy to be held hostage, because downloading a new app feels like too much of a hassle?  It would appear so. 

I am sick to death of Facebook trying to get their dirty, creepy, sticky fingers into everything we do.  Their manically capitalistic desire for growth means that FB will never be happy with the amount of information it can scrape from your device, or from your life.  It will always want more. So even if you are happy to allow them the access they currently seek, do you really think that’s where they’ll stop?  When have they ever stopped before?  They’ve only ever sidestepped, backpedalled and hustled around legal obstacles.  Of course they have issued apologies for overstepping – but only when they’ve been caught.  Time and again, they’ve demonstrated that they simply cannot be trusted.  Why would you start trusting them now?  Especially knowing that Facebook ultimately aspires to one day actually read our goddamn minds (all the better to target advertisements for our purchasing convenience, no doubt).  Don’t believe me?  Read all about it here and here.  That’s not terrifying AT ALL!!  And you wonder why I’m freaking out over a tiny little change in terms and conditions. 

At the end of the day, after reading all this, you still might think I’m over-reacting.  C’mon Chryss, it’s just a little bit of info from your phone.  Maybe.  But that feisty young woman who fought a drugged-up carjacker trying to steal her car 29 years ago? She’s still inside of me. Only now, she’s fighting an evil data-jacker trying to steal her personal information. Not on my watch.

Ejo #122 – Fuck You, Facebook

Facebook.  You’ve heard of it, right?  It’s the social networking site that, since 2005, has become so widespread and popular, we can’t even imagine life without it.  Considering it’s been on the market for fifteen years, Facebook’s interface certainly hasn’t improved in line with its explosive popularity – mostly because it hasn’t needed to.  Facebook’s appeal lies not in the way it looks, or performs, but rather, in how it makes you feel.  It is systematically designed to be addictive, to administer micro-doses of feel-good neurotransmitters every time someone likes or comments on something that you’ve posted.  Human beings are complex creatures, but our brain reward centres operate very simply.  When the brain gets a drop of dopamine, it enjoys it very much and wants more.  Facebook knows this and its programmers have learned to manipulate the interface, in order to take advantage of that.  Why?  The longer we spend on the site, the more advertising we are exposed to, the more money goes rolling into Facebook’s coffers.  It really is as simple as that.  But that’s just the beginning.  

We all know about FB’s sketchy privacy practices.  On a global scale we seem to enjoy Facebook enough to ignore the fact that so much of our personal data is shared with big corporations.  Perhaps we feel it’s a small price to pay for the privilege of staying connected to so many other people, so easily.  Or maybe we just aren’t aware of exactly how much we are giving away.  Did you know that Facebook allowed huge companies like Spotify, Netflix and the Royal Bank of Canada complete access to your private messages?  Not just the ability to read them, but also to write and delete them!!!!  WTAF?!  The first you heard about your data being used in such a shitty way was probably when the Cambridge Analytica scandal broke.  Suddenly there was an outrage.  For a while.  And then it all died down and it was back to business as usual in Menlo Park.  Facebook continues to act behind closed doors and to avoid anything more than a mere semblance of transparency.  And that’s before we even start talking about the fake news. 

In 2016 FB discovered millions of false pages that may have contributed to Trump’s shock win at the election.  Seemingly genuine pages that were peddling outright lies.  “Pope Francis endorses Donald Trump.”  “Someone was murdered after agreeing to testify against Hillary Clinton.”  “Bill Clinton raped a 13 year old girl.”  None of these stories are true but they spread like wildfire because FB’s algorithm favours stories with high engagement.  And nothing engages people more than sensationalist bullshit.  The most commonly shared news content on Facebook today is from Fox News and other right leaning outlets, such as Breitbart.  Not exactly paragons of journalistic truth.  But it actually benefits FB to spread misinformation and lies.  They are not invested in the truth, and they keep trying to wash their hands of any responsibility when it comes to the veracity of content posted on their site.

Despite that, occasionally they are compelled into increased accountability.  Only as recently as last year, FB pledged to eliminate white nationalist/supremacist pages from their site.  They didn’t particularly want to, as doing so goes against their “freedom of speech” ethos, but public and government pressure forced their hand.  But, because they are an unregulated beast, several nationalist, alt-right, white supremacy groups still hold court on Facebook, untouched.  Only when specific complaints about a particular page become public does Facebook bother to take any action.  Otherwise these hate-spouting organisations are allowed to operate unchecked.  In addition, these extremist groups are permitted to magnify their exposure on FB through means that are in violation of FB’s own rules, i.e. inauthentic coordinated behavior (using multiple pages to promote the same content in order to increase readership).  If I did that, I would be banned. 

In its purported claims to be seen as unbiased and non-partisan, FB has been forced to partner with a number of third-party fact-checking organisations.  Last year they came under fire for taking on a partnership with a company that is a subsidiary of the right-wing, white-nationalist publication Daily Caller.  Not exactly unbiased.  These fact-checkers have a huge influence on which news articles are seen (and not seen) by Facebook users, and considering that more than half of Americans now use social media as their primary news source, it means that these “fact-checkers” wield a huge amount of power.  So why would FB give a far-right group the job of checking facts on its site?  The answer seems to be that they want to suck up to the Republicans, and in particular they want to suck up to Trump.  When Democrats, like Elizabeth Warren, campaign on a promise of breaking up and regulating Facebook, it’s easy to see why the behemoth social media platform would favour the incumbent president and party.  So much so that they are prepared to bend democracy to their will in order to insure Trump stays in power.  They have $556 billion dollars riding on it.  

Following the 2016 election, FB started openly pandering to the Trump administration, crumbling under the president’s online whining about how he was being unfairly treated on the site.  But the slide from left to right had started much earlier.  Months before the election, FB actually discovered evidence that Russians were acting to influence the result (in Trump’s favour).  They kept that information to themselves, and did nothing to prevent Russia’s continued interference.  And Facebook continues to staunchly defend their policy of allowing proven false information to be included in political ads, with Zuckerberg defending that stance, “The ability to speak freely has been central in the fight for democracy world-wide”.  Nice soundbite Mark, but allowing absolute bullshit “news” articles to circulate on Facebook under the guise of fact, is actually harmful to democracy.  I cannot stress enough how dangerous this is to the very fabric of our society.

Zuckerberg justifies the lack of editorial oversight, “We think our users can make up their own minds”.  But then he pays researchers to see if he can make up their minds for them.  In 2012, FB conducted an ethically dodgy study in which they manipulated their user’s feeds to see what effect that would have on their moods – without ever asking their explicit permission to do so.  Some people’s feeds showed them happy, positive words, photos and news stories for a week, and at the end of that time FB’s researchers would assess whether that person was posting noticeably more positive things themselves (they usually were).  But you know what else Facebook did?  Some users’ feeds were showered with content that was sad, or angry or negative in order to gauge if that also had the same knock-on effect.  And it did, resulting in those users generally posting downbeat status updates.  And that’s fucked up.  They didn’t ask any of the users their permission to take part in the study.  They didn’t ask anyone if they were interested in having their moods manhandled, in such a creepy way.  They just went ahead and did it.  To 689,003 people.  Were you one of them?  You will never know. 

It’s FB’s ability to manipulate and control its users that makes them so powerful.  It’s the almost total lack of oversight that makes them scary.  They’ve already demonstrated that they can (and will) control their user’s emotions and moods through deceptive means.  Their privacy terms and conditions allow for it, so it’s not illegal.  But try telling me it’s not wrong. 

When I joined FB thirteen years ago, I did so because I thought it was a cool way to connect with my friends.  By 2016, I had started becoming fairly disillusioned with the platform, but still felt that, being an expat, it was the best way to keep in touch with my loved ones back home.  I stayed, despite FB’s insane growth and metamorphosis into something other than it was pretending to be.  I can no longer ignore what it has become, and because of that, I can no longer continue to use it.  It is my view that Facebook has become nothing less than a deadly weapon.  I honestly don’t think it’s an exaggeration to suggest that it has transformed from an ivy league rich kid’s club into an insidious monster of mind-control on a mass scale.  Am I impervious to the tactics employed?  Are you?  How do we know?  Maybe we are smart enough to stay neutral and unaffected.  But what about the other 2.4 billion monthly users?  That’s almost a third of the earth’s population, and you can bet that a huge chunk of them are easy targets, particularly in third world countries where Facebook isn’t just an online application, but the internet itself. 

And it’s not just FB manipulating its own users.  Other times it’s third party actors.  Governments.  Usually with nefarious intentions.  For instance, in 2018 it was discovered that a coordinated social media attack designed to incite violence and hatred against Myanmar’s Muslim Rohingya minority group had been perpetrated by that country’s own military.  The United Nations found that the five year campaign of false propaganda saw the Myanmar government use Facebook as a tool for genocide and ethnic cleansing.  And because of Facebook’s manifesto that “free speech” is the cornerstone of democracy, they felt justified in allowing that to happen.  That is not OK.  Really, it’s not OK.  It’s fucking awful and I can no longer allow myself to passively be part of it.  I am a little nervous about completely deleting my account, but I’m still going to do it, and I know I’ll find a way to live without it.  In fact, a Stanford study found that: “The downsides are real. The negative effects of Facebook are large enough to be of real concerns. Four weeks without Facebook improves subjective well-being.”

I think I’m going to be just fine.


Some more reading…
The New York Times – As Facebook Raised a Privacy Wall, It Carved an Opening for Tech Giants
The GuardianWhite Nationalists are Openly Operating on Facebook. The Company Won’t Act
Popular InformationFacebook Allows Prominent Right-Wing Website to Break the Rules
Popular InformationThe Republican Political Operatives Who Call the Shots at Facebook
The New York TimesA Genocide Incited on Facebook, With Posts From Myanmar’s Military
SalonA “Gold Standard” Study Finds Deleting Facebook is Great for Your Mental Health

Ejo #82 – Censorship

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;
the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”

The Guardian recently published an article in which a Norwegian newspaper editor blasted Mark Zuckerberg for deleting a Facebook post featuring an iconic photo taken more than 40 years ago.  The social media behemoth deleted the post of a journalist who had used the photo in a story about war – and then followed up by punitively suspending the writer’s Facebook account. A media storm ensued after editor Espen Egil Hansen skewered Mark Zuckerberg, accusing him of “limiting freedom” in an “authoritarian way”.

Facebook has since reversed its initial decision to censor the photo, allowing users to freely share the image without fear of being blocked or having their account suspended.  The back down is welcome, but it doesn’t address the underlying problem of Facebook’s power in controlling what its 1.23 billion users see.  Especially when you take into account the fact that more than 40% of people (in America, anyway) use Facebook as their primary source of news.

Did you know that the news stories Facebook promotes are decided by computers?  An algorithm dictates what news we get to see.  And what’s scary is that it also dictates what news we don’t see.  But what’s scarier than that, to me, is that some people actually welcome this kind of regulation.  Or let’s call it what it really is: censorship.  When I posted the Guardian’s story of the napalm photo (with the caption, “WTF, Facebook”) one of my FB friends responded that she thought the picture should actually be censored by pixelating the image of the naked girl, and that if people wanted to see it, they could click through to the website.  I respect that people have different opinions than me about things but to welcome censorship seems small-minded and a huge step in the wrong direction.  Especially when information is a freedom that has been bloodily fought for throughout history.  And I choose to exert my right to oppose it.

I live in a country where the media does not have the right to publish the truth.  It’s a place where the news is censored as a matter of course.  In a Muslim autocracy, perhaps this is to be expected.  But the western world doesn’t (or at least shouldn’t) operate in this way.  We already get a very filtered version of what’s going on around us.  As well as Facebook’s algorithms, we also have news agencies cherry-picking what stories to broadcast or publish, meaning we do not get the full picture.  I was watching the six o’clock news in Melbourne a couple of days ago and was appalled that the top two stories of the day were about football.  Not just one story, but two.  In the meantime, on the same day five people were murdered in Washington, USA after a 20 year old gunman shot them in a rampage in a shopping mall, and 85 innocent people were killed in Aleppo in Russian airstrikes supported by the Syrian government.  The mass shooting was mentioned, briefly, after even more features about football, including six minutes of airtime in which Footscray Bulldogs fans gushed about how their team making the finals was the best thing that had ever happened to them.  I mean, for fuck’s sake.  I am totally on board with the Doggies and really hope they win the grand final next weekend.  But this is not news.  This is a feel good story.  It’s human interest.  It belongs at the end of the program, as a snippet.  When did Australian news become so watered down?  And why aren’t people pissed off about it.

I’m pissed off about it.  The Aleppo story didn’t even rank a spot in that day’s news.  I’m posting a photo here of a man who died trying to protect his child during the attack, not because I want to shock people but because it happened, and we need to know that it happened.  And to those of you who would rather go on Facebook to just look at pictures of cats and post inspirational memes, I am not sorry.  If you don’t like it, you can unfriend me.


Awful, yes. But we need to see this, not hide from it.

I can’t help going back to that picture of Kim Phúc as a nine year old girl running away from her home after being bombed with napalm.  The photo, titled “The Terror of War” is so confronting because of its stark depiction of a horrible event.  It simply would not have the same impact if the little girl was Photoshopped to be wearing clothes (and if you ask me, pixelating her is the same as putting clothes on her – you might as well dress her up as Santa Claus).  If the photo is censored, it loses its power.  The reason the little girl is naked is because napalm burned the clothes right off her body, melting her skin in the process.  Phúc herself has spoken out about the outcry, saying “I’m saddened by those who would focus on the nudity in the historic picture rather than the powerful message it conveys.  I fully support the documentary image taken by Nick Ut as a moment of truth that capture the horror of war and its effects on innocent victims.”


The iconic photo Facebook initially deemed offensive.

I’m saddened too.  Are people calling for censorship of the photo because they think that the image is sexual??  If so, they’re stupid.  Initially, Facebook claimed they removed the photo because “it’s difficult to create a distinction between allowing a photograph of a nude child in one instance and not others”.  But if people can’t tell the difference between child pornography and journalistic fact reporting, then the problem lies with them.  Let’s not pander to the lowest common denominator.

The person that told me Facebook should have pixelated the photo, went on to argue that she also hadn’t enjoyed her feed being filled with images and videos of two black men being killed by police officers in routine traffic stops in the US a couple of months ago.  She thought that these images in Facebook should also have been pixelated, and that if people were interested in the headline, they could click the link to read the full article.  She was worried that allowing the pictures of these atrocities to be so readily available, would de-sensitise people to violent death by normalising it.

I disagree.  I think that when people are able to see incidents like police brutality against African-Americans themselves, they become more aware of the problem than if they were to just read a report about it.  I believe that when we see photos of dead children washed up on the beach after trying to escape war-torn countries, we are more likely to have empathy for refugees.  I personally do not like to see death.  I baulk at photos of dead bodies.  But I would rather be uncomfortable than be in the dark.  War is hell.  Burying your head in the sand might make you feel better in the short term, but the fact is that this shit is going on out there in the world and just because you can’t see it does not mean that you are immune to it.  Choosing to live in a bubble might feel safe, but it is not safe.  When information is withheld from us, we are being controlled.  And that’s dangerous.  We must insist on a free flow of information.  Plato knew this, so why are we still debating it?

It might not seem like such a big deal to agree to censor a photo in which a young girl is depicted naked.  But I see it as the beginning of a slippery slope of suppression which is difficult to control.  If we pixelate the napalm girl, why don’t we also start banning books again.  There are some pretty offensive things written in books.  Vile, nasty things that perhaps we’d be better off not reading.  Right?  But who gets to decide which books are offensive, and which books are acceptable for public consumption?  Did you know that “Winnie-The-Pooh” was once banned for “dubious sexuality” and “inappropriate dress”?  Some idiot decided that.  When you court the “protection” of censorship, you actively relinquish control and you give away your power and your freedom of choice to somebody else.  Somebody that might not have your best interests at heart.  Why would you allow that?  My Facebook friend said, “I really didn’t want to see it.  I think I still have a choice as in to what I see on Facebook”.  But the problem is that if she is happy for her Facebook news to be censored, she’s actually not the one making the choice at all.