Charlie Brooker: Why Twitter is like Rock Band

"There’s a pressure to have an opinion on every incremental development on everything," he says.

I've interviewed Charlie Brooker for the New Statesman print magazine, but there was a quote of his from the interview that was so righteous, I had to blog it. I asked him whether he was currently using Twitter much less than before because he'd gone off it. 

He said:

I haven’t gone off it entirely. Because I’ve been so busy recently . . . When you don’t use it for a while, your brain calms down. So what I would do is lurk, and see what other people are doing . . . but when your rule is that you won't write anything, it's such a relief, it's like when you really need a piss and you finally have one. It’s like that happens in your brain.

You can see everyone getting very excited about 20 things a day, and you think, “Oh god, I don’t even have to have an opinion about that or even care that it matters”. And you start rather arrogantly looking on and thinking, “Yes, you’re all excited about that, you won't be in three hours' time”. There’s a pressure - if you are actively participating in it - there’s a pressure to have an opinion on every incremental development on everything. And there’s instant scandals and instant laughing stocks or talking points. And I just . . . it started making me feel ill. By which I mean in the head.

You know that feeling you get – you’ll recognise this as a gamer – that feeling when you spend hours playing a game – hours and hours and hours, and then you realise it's really late, it's like 3 or 4 [am] and you’ve got to be up at 8, and . .. you notice daylight breaking and you feel sort of disgusted and hollow, because actually you’ve not really done anything constructive. You’ve saved the world. A world that doesn’t exist.

Yeah, I can feel like I’ve rewired my optic nerve when I finish playing Rock Band.

Yeah, well, Twitter is actually a lot like Rock Band, but instead of coloured bars coming towards you, it's opinions on things. Topics. And there’s a pressure to respond. And then, the minute you stop doing that, you just think "oh, what is that about?" That makes me sound impossibly old. But I am.

Brooker has a new book out, by the way: I Can Make You Hate. It really can, you know. 

Rock Band, like Twitter, makes you press buttons quickly, says Charlie Brooker.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

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Should Facebook face the heat for the Cleveland shooting video?

On Easter Sunday, a man now dubbed the “Facebook killer” shot and killed a grandfather before uploading footage of the murder to the social network. 

A murder suspect has committed suicide after he shot dead a grandfather seemingly at random last Sunday. Steve Stephens (pictured above), 37, was being hunted by police after he was suspected of killing Robert Godwin, 74, in Cleveland, Ohio.

The story has made international headlines not because of the murder in itself – in America, there are 12,000 gun homicides a year – but because a video of the shooting was uploaded to Facebook by the suspected killer, along with, moments later, a live-streamed confession.

After it emerged that Facebook took two hours to remove the footage of the shooting, the social network has come under fire and has promised to “do better” to make the site a “safe environment”. The site has launched a review of how it deals with violent content.

It’s hard to poke holes in Facebook’s official response – written by Justin Osofsky, its vice president of global operations – which at once acknowledges how difficult it would have been to do more, whilst simultaneously promising to do more anyway. In a timeline of events, Osofsky notes that the shooting video was not reported to Facebook until one hour and 45 minutes after it had been uploaded. A further 23 minutes after this, the suspect’s profile was disabled and the videos were no longer visible.

Despite this, the site has been condemned by many, with Reuters calling its response “bungled” and the two-hour response time prompting multiple headlines. Yet solutions are not as readily offered. Currently, the social network largely relies on its users to report offensive content, which is reviewed and removed by a team of humans – at present, artificial intelligence only generates around a third of reports that reach this team. The network is constantly working on implementing new algorithms and artificially intelligent solutions that can uphold its community standards, but at present there is simply no existing AI that can comb through Facebook’s one billion active users to immediately identify and remove a video of a murder.

The only solution, then, would be for Facebook to watch every second of every video – 100 million hours of which are watched every day on the site – before it goes live, a task daunting not only for its team, but for anyone concerned about global censorship. Of course Facebook should act as quickly as possible to remove harmful content (and of course Facebook shouldn’t call murder videos “content” in the first place) but does the site really deserve this much blame for the Cleveland killer?

To remove the blame from Facebook is not to deny that it is incredibly psychologically damaging to watch an auto-playing video of a murder. Nor should we lose sight of the fact that the act, as well as the name “Facebook killer” itself, could arguably inspire copycats. But we have to acknowledge the limits on what technology can do. Even if Facebook removed the video in three seconds, it is apparent that for thousands of users, the first impulse is to download and re-upload upsetting content rather than report it. This is evident in the fact that the victim’s grandson, Ryan, took to a different social network – Twitter – to ask people to stop sharing the video. It took nearly two hours for anyone to report the video to Facebook - it took seconds for people to download a copy for themselves and share it on.  

When we ignore these realities and beg Facebook to act, we embolden the moral crusade of surveillance. The UK government has a pattern of using tragedy to justify invasions into our privacy and security, most recently when home secretary Amber Rudd suggested that Whatsapp should remove its encryption after it emerged the Westminster attacker used the service. We cannot at once bemoan Facebook’s power in the world and simultaneously beg it to take total control. When you ask Facebook to review all of the content of all of its billions of users, you are asking for a God.

This is particularly undesirable in light of the good that shocking Facebook videos can do – however gruesome. Invaluable evidence is often provided in these clips, be they filmed by criminals themselves or their victims. When Philando Castile’s girlfriend Facebook live-streamed the aftermath of his shooting by a police officer during a traffic stop, it shed international light on police brutality in America and aided the charging of the officer in question. This clip would never have been seen if Facebook had total control of the videos uploaded to its site.  

We need to stop blaming Facebook for things it can’t yet change, when we should focus on things it can. In 2016, the site was criticised for: allowing racial discrimination via its targeted advertising; invading privacy with its facial-scanning; banning breast cancer-awareness videos; avoiding billions of dollars in tax; and tracking non-users activity across the web. Facebook should be under scrutiny for its repeated violations of its users’ privacy, not for hosting violent content – a criticism that will just give the site an excuse to violate people's privacy even further.

No one blames cars for the recent spate of vehicular terrorist attacks in Europe, and no one should blame Facebook for the Cleveland killer. Ultimately, we should accept that the social network is just a vehicle. The one to blame is the person driving.

If you have accidentally viewed upsetting and/or violent footage on social media that has affected you, call the Samaritans helpline on  116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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