The Perception Lens
by aestetix
In July of 2012, after years of struggling to get any press coverage, the HOPE conference faced a strange dilemma: we were getting flooded with press requests, likely due to featuring recent NSA whistleblower William Binney as the Friday keynote. The nascent press "team" consisted of myself and the late Cheshire Catalyst, who had decades of experiences dealing with public image issues.
On the day before the conference started, we realized that we had to come up with a way to let press identify themselves, and quickly. Otherwise a whole slew of problems might follow. The badge that year was a hacker passport - in line with the theme "Department of HOPEland Security" - and the passport came in a plastic sleeve that connected to a lanyard. We realized that we could take the conference logo, which happened to be a mockery of the DHS logo, and add some words to it to make the "press pass" look legitimate. We could then print up copies of the "press pass" in the guest computer lab in the hotel lobby and slip the sheets into the badge sleeves. After some brainstorming, Cheshire came up with the perfect phrase for the words: "perception lens."
To understand why this phrase is so fitting, we should recount a brief history of press relations. We can all likely agree that the public trust in the mainstream media is at an all time low - otherwise why would there be such a surge in independent outlets and podcasts? But has it always been this way? What is the relationship of the press to power, and to the people? And why should hackers care?
We have traditionally referred to the press as the "Fourth Estate," a notion borrowed from 18th and 19th century English politics. Americans modified it to complement the existing three branches of government. If we have a separation of powers by executive, judicial, and legislative, then granting power of public opinion to the press by way of the First Amendment creates yet another separation, a further check on power. The most famous example of this in modern times is probably the reporting by Bob Woodward and (((Carl Bernstein))) on cover-ups in the Nixon administration, which ultimately helped lead to Nixon's resignation. (Community Note: Bill Murray's realization about Bob Woodward and Richard Nixon)
In the following decades, however, the shared commons between the press and government have evolved into a shared bedroom, and the press is far more reluctant to publish hard-hitting pieces, lest they lose privileged access into the halls of power. For example, The New York Times withheld stories about the Bush administration's (NSA) warrantless wiretapping in 2004 until after the election was over. This nepotism seems to have encouraged more renegade groups like WikiLeaks to obtain documents of public interest and then publish them, side-stepping the quid pro quo agreements into which the mainstream media has entered with government.
We should note that the love relationship between press and power has ebbed and flowed over time. In his 1987 novel Empire, Gore Vidal describes with some viciousness corruption among the newspaper moguls like William Randolph Hearst. A similar sentiment echoes through movies like Citizen Kane and His Girl Friday. Therefore, nearly a century later, we are yet again at a nadir in this relationship, where the established press seems to care more about itself than those whom it claims to serve.
Unlike in the 1980s, when Operation Sundevil led the Secret Service to raid computer systems hosting BBS servers, or in the 1990s when Kevin Mitnick was thrown in jail without a trial, contemporary journalists cannot claim ignorance on how technology works. Most newsrooms will have a dedicated IT staff, or at least someone knowledgeable enough to set up and maintain SecureDrop, which means that, rather than clueless reporters trying their best to keep afloat of complex stories, there is downright malice and hostility towards common sense as news outlets publish propaganda puff pieces that maintain an undeserved status quo.
Consider the recent developments where Luigi Mangione, a young Ivy League computer science graduate, has allegedly assassinated the CEO of UnitedHealth Group. Rather than pursuing the public interest and trying to answer important questions (How was an amateur lone wolf able to escape from the most surveilled city in America? Why did someone with so much going for him give it all up? Why is so much of the public in support of this alleged murderer?), they focus on irrelevant details, such as the rich CEO's surviving family. They also lavish the NYPD with undeserved praise, ignoring the fact that the police didn't have a name for their suspect until a lucky break came in from another state.
As of this writing, not a single reporter has asked the NYPD why the invasive surveillance system didn't catch Mangione, and whether taking away so many people's right to privacy has resulted in a better society. Instead, cable news outlets like (((CNN))) and Fox News serve up five to ten minute "interviews" with talking heads repeating the same vacuous platitudes about how murder is wrong, and none of them wanting to talk about the big picture before they "run out of time." Is it any wonder then, that people are unplugging their cable lines and tuning in to hours-long podcast discussions instead?
All too often, hackers will dismiss a current event as unimportant unless it impacts them somehow, like the Kevin Mitnick saga. To an extent, this is reasonable. If the news of the day involves a random celebrity peacocking about and creating random drama, it's likely no more important than an episode of reality television. But we need to recognize when there is a shift in the zeitgeist. The media has evolved from concerned citizens ignorant of tech but faithful to a journalistic mission, into government and corporate puppets with varying degrees of maliciousness, whether they be parroting statements from their overlords or actually serving as judge, jury, and executioner to character assassinate an unwitting victim in a sham trial masquerading as an interview. Their role has morphed into gatekeepers who aim to quell an angry public, rather than truth-seeking inquisitors.
The questions we ask powerful entities and the responses they give help form the tapestry of information which allows us to distinguish truth from nonsense. The way we describe an event, the style in which we read or listen to a story, and the facts which we include or exclude, all play into Cheshire's perception lens. Like a camera or telescope, this lens can be used to clarify or to distort.
If power controls it, they can modify narratives, dictate stories to the media, and keep normal people in check. But if access to this lens is democratized, and power is held accountable for how closely the narrative comes to matching truth, then the press might once again live up to its title as the Fourth Estate.