Livestreaming and Occupy: Activism, Journalism, Propaganda and Truth

The moving image is powerful. In the context of social movements they can change popular perceptions, radicalize and inspire. Video of police violence against peaceful protesters on the Edmund Pettus Bridge changed the face of the Civil Rights Movement. Video of Anthony Bologna pepper-spraying young women behind a kettle-net helped bring Occupy into the public mind like nothing else up to that point. Beyond their immediate impact, moving images can become historical touchstones emblematic of an era. Videos of police dogs and fire-hoses being used on demonstrators in Birmingham, hundreds of people tearing down the Berlin Wall, or the lone man standing in front of a line of tanks in Tienanmen Square come to mind. The reasons for this are manifold, but it mainly has to do with the medium. Unedited video doesn't lie. It approximates how we actually see the world. Events happen in four dimensions and the still image can't capture that. A photograph can be deceptive insofar as it is but a slice of action. Once the propaganda value of American Marines raising of the American flag atop Mt. Suribachi on Iwo-Jima was recognized, the event was staged a second time with a larger flag and photographers present.  Still shots of "Tank Man" in Tienanmen Square are iconic indeed, but the video of him stepping in front of the tank each time it attempts to go around him show him to be even more courageous.

The Occupy movement has been shaped by something rather unprecedented in history: livstreaming. While the moving image may seem objective it is localized to both a particular vantage point and a definite span of time. What happens before the camera is rolling can cast doubt as to whether the video is really being 'truthful.' Unedited Livestream as raw visual data seems to be as objective as it can possibly get: it is only subjective insofar as a camera can only be pointed in one direction at any given time (barring any editorializing done by the livestreamer). The question of what the streamer isn't showing is both a good question and at the same time such a basic consequence of working with the medium that it is uninteresting. The more interesting question is exactly what are the livestreamers focusing on at any given time? Are they somehow manipulating the medium to the advantage of the movement? If they are should we see what they're doing as a form of activism? If they are not then should we view live-streaming as mere journalism, something that may or may not be beneficial for the movement?

'Truth at all costs' is the realm of journalists. The importance of journalism was recognized by the founders of the United States who saw it necessary to protect the profession in the Constitution. It is often pointed out that it appears first in the Bill of Rights, along with freedom of speech, assembly, and the non-establishment of religion. But when it comes to Occupy should we really value truth above all else? Journalists, even ones that are sympathetic to the the cause, have an obligation foremost to the truth. This can be illustrated by the spate of articles that came out in the weeks prior to the eviction of Zuccotti, when many journalist "sympathizers" wrote unflattering articles about the social problems of the park (drug use, class divisions, etc.) that I would describe as 'older brother journalism.' In this case, 'truth' put even these sympathetic journalists in league with the most virulent demonizing from the right-wing press. One has to wonder whether we really need truth-tellers or propagandists in our ranks. I imagine that the story of the Boston Massacre would not have had the effect that it had if the event wasn't immediately mythologized and turned into propaganda, and even less so if there existed incontrovertible video evidence from the scene (or even worse, an uninterrupted livestream).

When Occupy Oakland was raided, many people watched the livestream of Spencer Mills, aka @OakFoSho for a very good reason: it was no coincidence that both ABC and CBS's helicopter images went dark one moment and then the next every twitter feed across the Occupy-verse lit up with reports of tear gas and less-lethal rounds being fired by the OPD. It is obvious that the mainstream media had no intention of allowing images of police doing this to unarmed protesters to be broadcast to the entire internet. Coupled with the fact that Oakland Mayor Jean Quan had much interest in the planning and carrying out of the raid (as leaked e-mails have shown) it is very likely that these news organizations had advance warning that this type of repression was to take place and were told that they damn well shouldn't film it.  Myself and many others watched as Spencer ran to retrieve another battery for his Droid-X phone so that we could see those images, and many people were grateful to him for doing it.  He stood there at the police lines, literally shining a light on police officers who had concealed their badge numbers with black electrical tape, which led to a ruling by a district court against the officers.

The case of Spencer Mills shows us two things about livestreaming: it can do the job mainstream journalists cannot be relied upon to do (as in the case of the helicopter streams going down before a brutal police action, the act of merely showing what is going on), and it can hold the authorities accountable (as in the case of the police who covered their badges with tape). That being said, Spencer knows better than anybody else that he would not get the viewership or approbation he received unless he was (one of) the only one(s) filming those now-famous and all-too-familiar scenes. After all, you're not getting ten-thousand views showing some people standing around in a public space talking radical politics and smoking Roll-Your-Own cigarettes. Sex sells, and police-oppression porn not only gets big numbers, but helps the movement as well.

On the night of the Zuccotti Eviction, Tim Pool, aka @Timcast, chose to livestream masked protesters releasing air from the tires of NYPD vehicles, despite the pleas from the masked people engaging in the activity to do otherwise. One might say that this was one of the only interesting things happening on Broadway and Pine at that time, and so for the sake of those viewing, he had to film it. One might say that he had to do it in the interest of truth, or objectivity, and that to not do it would betray some journalistic oath or duty. One might take a more cynical stance and say that he is interested in neither truth nor propaganda, and purposefully straddles the line between observer and protester for the advancement of his own career.  

Something has to be said of the self-perception of the livestreamer as well as how they are perceived by those around them. The complex interplay between these two things can be seen in a number of examples. While many live-streamers do consider themselves activists, some may be regarded as outsiders by protesters even to the point of derision and scorn, like Tim Pool. This however does not preclude them from being (ostensibly in Tim's case) viewed by the police as a "protester." Reports of police confiscating devices and deleting the photographs on them have come in from Nashville to New York City, where there have been many examples of livestreamers being selectively targeted for arrest and harassment by the NYPD. It doesn't begin and end with 'citizen journalists,' however, as Police Departments show the same contempt for the mainstream media. The New York Times has written a second letter to the NYPD requesting that they stop harassing journalists. If this is the way they treat them what chance does a live-streamer have?

Live-streaming is propaganda and the cameraperson is an activist insofar as the camera is pointed primarily at the police. I say this because if acts of unjustified police violence are one of the strongest tools available to any movement then it should be the job of the livestreamer, if s/he is an activist, to make this their primary focus. Luke Rudkowski, whose edited videos (which are mostly compilations of the NYPD beating and arresting protesters) and livestreams primarily focus on instances of police brutality would qualify as a propaganda, as would the work of Spencer Mills, despite the fact that both of these men have professed that they are not "protesters," and Luke Rudkowski has referred to himself as a journalist on countless occasions. They are propagandists whether they like it or not. If you don't think so, just imagine how much different the NYPD TARU videos of marches look like compared to video from either Spencer or Luke. These videos might resemble the perspective of Tim Pool, who has consistently turned the lens on protesters, in the name of truth or what have you.  

On February 1, 2012 Susie Cagle tweeted this:  "If spending the time to get the #OO story makes everyone think I'm "a protester" too, so be it. #OO needs more than fly-in reporting." This seems very much like a justification or defense of purposefully distorting the line between observer and participant. One of my mentors in radical politics and activism was an English teacher at my High School. When I told him I was going to the Iraq War protests in NYC he gave me this advice: "Go there with a pen and pad in hand, put a little slip of paper in your hat that says 'Press' and if the police try to arrest you tell them you are not a protester, but simply covering the event for your school newspaper." When one sees a Ryan Devereaux or Gavin Aronsen on an Occupy march it isn't always clear just by looking at them that they are journalists, and when it really comes down to it, they are just another body in the crowd. That is not to say that simply because they don't outwardly appear as journalists and are indeed indistinguishable from the protesters they are covering that they cease to be journalists, but rather to point out that the lines in this case are blurry, even when both external and internal perceptions align. By this I mean that in these cases both of these men are credentialed journalists (from albeit progressive news sources), but not livestreamers, and certainly not activists at any rate.

While it is clear that live-streaming is a necessary journalistic service in many ways, the sad but true fact remains that the proliferation of the means of journalistic production has made quality sources hard to find. This is a problem inherent in the very idea of livestreams, since each one is potentially as important as any other because not all eyes can be everywhere at once. We obviously value a higher definition image when we watch, but also would like to see content that helps to advance our struggle in some way. I've said this before and I'll say it again here: journalists (in the strict sense, that is to say for the purpose of this point, not live-streamers) have an obligation to truth above all else. They might sympathize with our movement but as journalists whose job and duty it is to uncover and report the truth they will never be our propagandists, nor should we expect them to be. Knowing that many livestreamers consider themselves both journalists and activists (some only when it suits them) further confuses this. We should value livestreams for their obvious functions as doing the job that (mainstream) journalists won't do, keeping people all over the world abreast of events about which they might never hear any fair coverage, and helping to advance our cause. But when livestreamers straddle the line between protester and journalist, particularly in the case of generating donations and helping to advance their career at the expense of the movement, then we should realize that livestreaming is not an absolute good, and there is nothing sacrosanct about it.