Tech has a white dude problem, and it doesn't get better by not talking about it

The organisers of the British Ruby Conference have cancelled the event due to their failure to invite a diverse speaker line-up.

The British Ruby Conference announced, last night, that the 2013 event would be cancelled, because of a furore stemming from one developer's reaction:

Ruby is a programming language, developed in the mid-1990s, which has gained a lot of popularity in recent years as the basis of a framework used for building web applications. As with programming in general, the Ruby community undoubtedly skews heavily male, and the conference – known as "BritRuby" – cites that in its defence.

In their official explanation for why the decision was made to not put on the 2013 event, the BritRuby organisers write:

We wanted innovative ideas and we whole-heartedly pushed everyone that submitted a proposal to think outside the box. Our selection process was the content and nothing more. Not the individuals gender, race, age or nationality. It’s about community…

The Ruby community has been battling with issues of race and gender equality. We at Brit Ruby were well aware of this fundamental and important issue. This was one of the reasons why we encouraged everyone to submit a speaker proposal.

It is often the case with situations like this that those under attack cite the belief that they picked the line-up based entirely on quality. For instance, it remains true that orchestras are dominated by men, and for years, explanations were given about how only men had the strength, or control, or innate musicality to play certain instruments, and so on.

Yet as orchestras gradually introduced blind auditions – actually picking the line-up based purely on quality – the gender balance shifted. And it appears much the same may be true of technology. Josh Susso, the developer whose tweet sparked the whole discussion which ended up leading to the conference being pulled, ran his own ruby conference in San Francisco, GoGaRuCo, which had a completely blind selection process.

As a result of that, and explicitly reaching out to women's programming groups, the slate of speakers was a quarter women. Even though it may be easier in a city like San Francisco, it is possible.

Sadly, the debate around BritRuby's monoculture led, according to the statement, to their sponsors getting spooked after accusations of sexism and racism threatened to toxify the brand. With uncertain sponsorship and personal liabilities, the organisers were forced to cancel.

They did not go out in a blaze of glory.

Sean Handley, who has run previous conventions with the BritRuby team but was not involved in this one, posted his own take on the situation which is slightly more self-pitying than the official one:

Yes, gender equality and racial equality are important. But the team's motives were to get the best speakers who were able to make it to Manchester. Turns out, a lot of the famous Rubyists are white guys and all of the ones who said they'd like to come were, indeed, white guys.

Making an issue out of that is, frankly, misguided. Adding a token minority speaker is offensive to that speaker, it says "You're here because you tick a box - not because you're skilled." It doesn't matter who speaks at a conference, as long as they're capable, interesting and relevant. That's what matters: content, not style.

Even that defence starts getting a bit uncomfortable in the end. If you are defending your all-white, all-male speaker line-up by saying that you only wanted the "best speakers", it's hard for non-white, non-male people to not infer that they are considered sub-par. Saying that the only way to fix the problem would be to add "token" speakers makes it sound like there are no non-token speakers worth inviting.

And saying that "it doesn't matter who speaks at a conference, as long as they're capable, interesting and relevant" is plainly untrue: it does matter, to a hell of a lot of people, and if you set out to be a leading voice in your community, you owe it to yourself and that community to try and make it a better group to be in.

Some – not all – elements of that community sorely need help, judging by the comments beneath Handley's post.

The whole event ruined for everyone but a few narrow minded individuals.

Yes. The people who want not all-white-male-speakers are narrow minded.

Next thing would be people complaining about the lack of Unicorns on the conferences.

Women in tech: Literally Imaginary, apparently.

[Quoting an earlier commenter] I feel this needs to happen more and more so Conference organizers are forced to start considering diversity from the beginning and initiate programs or reach out to more non-white-males to speak

While we're at it, let's make sure to throw in a few over-50s, a disabled woman and a couple of homosexuals. We need to focus on diversity after-all.

Where is the line?

Oh no! Gay people might be at the conference?!

Seriously, this whole equality crap is… crap! One thing is when there are cases where women are not treated fairly (not good) or abused (very bad), but equality is a non-issue for most of us in the Western world. In cases where exploitation or abuse are confirmed, society should act for sure, but the reality is men and women are not equal in many ways. It's not that one is better and the other is worse is that, quite simply, we're different. I see plenty of "Women Seminars" (not very "Men Seminars" I should add) and I don't see anyone rushing those asking for "equality" or "lack of men on these".

I'm done here.

Update: Changed the headline slightly, and corrected the reference to Sean Handley

Photograph: 2013.britruby.com

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Facebook official: the rise and fall of the relationship status

In the Noughties, it was a relationship milestone. Now, it's just another dead feature. What happened? 

In the 1950s, couples on US campuses took out ads in college newspapers to announce that their relationship was getting serious. 

In the Noughties, we had Facebook official. One of the social media site's first features, rolled out while the network was still primarily used by students at US universities, was the "relationship status". And at first, it was a successful one: a way for users to broadcast their personal lives to friends and ex-lovers, and another way to show off online.

It was so successful, in fact, that it began to invade very culture and lexicon of dating. "It's Complicated" was first entered onto Urban Dictionary in 2007, and fast became an iconic phrase to describe the rocky dating lives of teens and twentysomethings. (Whether anyone actually used it on their profile without a hint of irony is another question.)

The press treated Facebook and its investment in your relationships much as it's treating dating apps now: with suspicion. News and comment pieces were littered with first-person horror stories of "likes" and passive aggressive comments on break-up statuses, or people mercilessly dumping their partners by declaring themselves "single". 

But these criticisms actually show how influential the statuses were - enough to be seen as a threat to the social fabric. As Samuel Axon wrote for Mashable in 2010 in an article titled "5 Ways Facebook Changed Dating (For the Worse)": 

"Changing Facebook relationship status has, for better or worse, joined first date, first kiss, first night together, exclusivity talk, and first "I love you" on the list of important relationship milestones."

Breaking up  

In 2016, we can pretty much declare the relationship status dead - at least among the twenty-something generation who grew up on Facebook. In November, BuzzFeed ran a reader poll and concluded: “No One Wants To Admit They’re In A Relationship On Facebook Anymore”. Forty per cent of polled twenty-somethings said they wouldn’t put a relationship status on Facebok. 

Among twentysomethings I spoke to anecdotally, the percentage was even higher: I couldn't find a single person who would list themselves as "in a relationship" with a boyfriend or girlfriend. The situation changed a little when it came to engagements or marriage: these are worth listing alongside other big milestones like graduations so friends know what you're up to. But what turned us off listing our squeezes in real-time?

One obvious answer is that everyone tries it once, in the first flush of romance, then never forgets the crushing social embarrassment of living out your break-up online. Izzy, 23, tells me that she once saw "Facebook official" as a necessary stage in relationships, but now, "I'd probably only change it now for something big like an engagement or marriage", since watching break-up become "public property" on Facebook. 

In “Why I will never (again) put my relationship status on Facebook” at XO Jane, Sofia Barrett-Ibarria recounts that colleagues and friends would approach her following a a break-up and subsequent status change: “Thanks to Facebook, everyone I knew knew about the breakup. This was my nightmare.” 

In the essay, and among those I talk to, there's a real sense that a social media airing of a break-up actually makes it worse. It's no wonder we're keen to avoid repeating the experience. 

Instead, it's far more common among my generation to list a joke partner online - as much to protect yourself from the risky business of online relationship declarations as to make fun of the feature itself. Amy, 24, says her Facebook relationship with a friend “became quite useful as a means to avoid putting other relationships on here”. It's a joke, but it's also a signal that you won't be game for a po-faced "in a relationship" further down the line. 

Even the phrase "relationship status" has become a meme to mock your own singledom, rather than a serious phrase about your commitment to someone:

It's not you, it's me 

Marking the slow decline of the relationship statuses are various desperate attempts by Facebook to bring it back to life. In May 2014, it introduced an option to "ask" your friends about their relationship status, or other details like Hometown or School. Show me a single person who actually did this, and I'll show you a person with one less Facebook friend.

In November 2015, Facebook US introduced tools which would make a social media break-up less painful. If you break up (and change your relationship status), the site now allows you to "take a break" from an ex-partner, untag them from pictures, and generally stop them haunting your page without unfriending or blocking them. 

The move is a sensible one, especially as Facebook has come under fire for "On This Day", another feature which throws up old pictures and posts and has been depressing users the world over with pictures of their now-dead relatives or relics of past relationships. In the press release for the new relationship tools, the company says:

“This work is part of our ongoing effort to develop resources for people who may be going through difficult moments in their lives. We hope these tools will help people end relationships on Facebook with greater ease, comfort and sense of control.”

Never, ever getting back together 

Somehow, I don't think any of this will convince users to once again share the minutiae of our dating lives on social media. You could argue that my generation's rejection of relationship statuses is to do with a fear of commitment - after all, none of us have pensions or can afford houses. Research has shown that social media interaction, like a shared relationship status or photos taken together, are an indicator of "greater relationship commitment". Perhaps twenty-somethings just aren't keen to stamp Facebook-endorsed "commitment" all over their dating lives.

But it could also be that we're moving away from relationship statuses because we've realised there's a type of online sharing that can be damaging in its honesty. It's increasingly clear that even bloggers and Instagrammers who post online constantly keep their personal lives locked carefully away from their smoothie and interior decor feeds, sometimes to the detriment of their alleged "authenticity". 

We want social media to be privy to our highs, not our lows. Research has also suggested that while relationship statuses indicate commitment, they were reflective of this commitment, not participating in it. While asking someone to be your boyfriend and girlfriend is an action that actually changes the fabric of a relationship, going Facebook official isn't - unless you're a 13-year-old who still thinks this is a good way to ask. 

As such, relationship statuses are a communication of status, not a creation of one. They were never meant as a milestone for the couples themselves: they're to satisfy the sort of people who bark "BUT IS SHE ACTUALLY YOUR GIRLFRIEND?" at you, in the pub, while she's two feet away. Maybe we've just decided that our online presence should benefit us, not those who want a two-click rundown of our personal lives. 

And since you ask, I've been in a Facebook-only civil partnership with a university friend for four years now. It isn't complicated at all. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.