Nevermind The Russians, Meet The Bot King Who Helps Trump Win Twitter

At 7:23 on Sunday evening, the conservative internet personality Mike Cernovich tweeted that former national security adviser Susan Rice had requested the “unmasking” of Americans connected to the Trump campaign who were incidentally mentioned in surveillance readouts. At 7:30, the owner of the Twitter account MicroMagicJingleTM noticed, and began blasting out dozens of tweets and retweets about the story.

“Would be nice to get &;Susan Rice&039; trending,” he tweeted at 8:16. And then, he made exactly that happen.

MicroMagicJingleTM is the latest incarnation of MicroChip, a notorious pro-Trump Twitter ringleader once described by a Republican strategist as the “Trumpbot overlord.” He has been suspended from the service so frequently, he can’t recall the exact number of times. A voluminous tweeter, his specialty is making hashtags trend. Over the next 24 hours, following his own call to arms, MicroChip tweeted or retweeted more than 300 times about Rice, everything from a photoshopped image of Donald Trump eating her head out of a taco bowl to demands that she die in jail, almost always accompanied by the tag . Meanwhile, in massive threaded tweets and DM groups, he implored others to do likewise.

By 9 a.m. Monday, the tag was being tweeted nearly 20,000 times an hour, and was trending on Twitter; by 11 a.m., 34,000 an hour. (As of Tuesday morning, the tag was still trending, partially thanks to a tweet from Donald Trump Jr.) At 4:48 p.m. Monday, 18-odd hours after he started his campaign, MicroChip was ready to call it a success:

Before? What did he mean by “before”? Before the election, before the campaign, and long since before “Russian interference” was the mantra of every political consultant, British former member of parliament, and American senator turned Tolstoy enthusiast, MicroChip has been figuring out how to make pro-Trump tags go viral on Twitter. When people talk about Russian Twitter bots, they are, very likely, sometimes talking about his work. They’ve ranged from the innocuously rah-rah () to the wildly xenophobic () to the extremely unconfirmed ( and ). What they’ve all had in common is a method, the focus of speculation for nearly a year, and a chief promulgator, MicroChip, about whom little is known.

Indeed, MicroChip, who operates behind a VPN (a special secure network that obscures his location), is an object of fascination and fear, even among some of his political and ideological fellow travelers, who hope not to end up on the wrong side of one of his Twitter campaigns. One conservative observer of the alt-right, who spoke to BuzzFeed on the condition that his name not be used, claimed he once hired private investigators to trace him.

“You can’t,” the observer wrote in a text message. “He’s too good.”

Unconvincing internet investigations have suggested that MicroChip may be anyone from the prominent alt-righter Baked Alaska to Justin McConney, the director of social media for the Trump Organization, to a shadowy Russian puppet master.

But in an interview with BuzzFeed News — his first with a media organization — MicroChip said the truth, both about his identity and the method he developed for spreading pro-Trump messages on Twitter, is far more prosaic. Though he would not divulge his real name or corroborate his claim, MicroChip said that he is a freelance mobile software developer in his early thirties and lives in Utah. In a conversation over the gaming chat platform Discord, MicroChip, who speaks unaccented, idiomatic American English, said that he guards his identity so closely for two reasons: first, because he fears losing contract work due to his beliefs, and second, because of what he calls an “uninformed” discourse in the media and Washington around Russian influence and botting.

“I feel like I&039;m a scientist showing electricity to natives that have been convinced electricity is created by Satan, so they murder the scientist,” he said.

Indeed, in a national atmosphere charged by unproven accusations about a massive network of Russian social media influence, the story of how MicroChip helped build the most notorious pro-Trump Twitter network seems almost mundane, less a technologically daunting intelligence operation than a clever patchworking of tools nearly any computer-literate person could manage. It also suggests that some of the current Russian Trumpbot hysteria may be, well, a hysteria.

“It’s all us, not Russians,” MicroChip said. “And we’re not going to stop.”

MicroChip claims he was a longtime “staunch liberal” who turned to Twitter in the aftermath of the November 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris, and “found out that I didn’t like what was going on. So I redpilled myself.” Through Twitter, he found a network of other people who thought liberal politicians had blindly acceded to PC culture, and who had found a champion in Donald Trump. In his early days on the platform, MicroChip said, he started “testing,” dabbling in anti-PC tags like Rapefugees and seeing what went viral. His experience as a mobile developer had exposed him to the Twitter API, and a conversation with a blogger who ran social media bots convinced him he could automate the Twitter trending process.

“Micro is a true believer alt-right guy,” wrote the alt-right observer who had MicroChip investigated. “He’s brilliant and is not LARPing. His tech skills are real as is his opsec.”

As MicroChip found other like-minded accounts, he said, they began to organize themselves into enormous, 50-person direct message groups. Within these groups, members would distribute content from the Drudge Report and Reddit’s r/The_Donald subreddit, then tweet it with a commonly decided hashtag, and retweet one another’s tweets ad infinitum. MicroChip called the DM rooms, simply, “retweet groups,” and by September of last year, there were 15 of them. Some of the groups were chock-full of egg and anime avatars, according to MicroChip, but others were composed of Christian conservatives or hardcore Zionists. Taken together, they were like a strange Twitter mirror image of the Trump coalition.

MicroChip added automation to these dedicated DM groups, which he insisted are populated entirely by real people with real accounts. He started using AddMeFast, a kind of social media currency exchange, in which people can retweet or like other tweets in exchange for points that they can then can spend to list their own content (such as pro-Trump hashtagged tweets) to be promoted. You can also buy these points, and an investment of several hundred dollars, according to MicroChip, can yield thousands or even tens of thousands of retweets.

A third component of MicroChip’s blended army of DM groups and crowdsourced social media signal boosters were simple Google script bots. These bots, which MicroChip said “you don’t have to do any programming at all to run,” can be programmed to find and like or retweet tweets featuring certain terms or hashtags.

At its height, MicroChip said, the network he helped create could reliably generate 35,000 retweets a day.

“It’s high volume and it takes work,” he said. “You can’t take a break — you sit at the screen waiting for breaking news 12 hours per day when you’re knee-deep in it.” It’s hard work: MicroChip would sometimes reach his daily limit of 1,000 tweets a day, sometimes taking Adderall to focus — though he added, “Shaping a message is exhilarating.”

Along the way, Twitter started to suspend MicroChip’s accounts — first his original handle @WDfx2EU, then subsequent variations, each started with a link to his Keybase page to verify his identity, and each presided over by the same avatar: the Instagram hunk Brock O’Hurn wearing a Make America Great Again hat and eating an ice cream cone. MicroChip showed BuzzFeed dozens of other accounts he owns, ready to activate if and when his current account, @WDFx2EU95, gets suspended.

While it may take work to stay active, MicroChip says he has has an ideal platform in Twitter with which to shape a message. “Twitter is easier [than other social networks] and more volatile,” he said. “Emotions run high at 140 characters. The chaos is perfect.”

MicroChip is well aware that many of the tags and stories he promotes haven’t been proven or aren’t true. He’s thrown his network behind and . And days before the election, he posted a tweet to r/The_Donald about an alleged plot by then-president Obama and Hillary Clinton to have Trump assassinated in Reno.

“This ignorant shit needs to be stopped,” replied one user.

“I can make whatever claims I want to make,” MicroChip shot back. “That’s how this game works.”

It’s true that MicroChip can make any claim he wants, and it’s impossible to say that his stories about his identity are true: He could be Vladimir Putin. But multiple aspects of his method can be confirmed: MicroChip provided records of his activity on AddMeFast to BuzzFeed News, alt-right sources confirmed that he was a consistent presence in their DM groups, and the day after the election multiple pro-Trump accounts thanked him for his efforts:

“Micro put in serious work during the election and I really respect his lack of ego,” said another source within the Trump internet world who has worked closely with MicroChip. “He&039;s anonymous and doesn’t care about the credit.”

Indeed, the fact that MicroChip’s network — that much pro-Trump internet activity — is now reflexively assumed to be part of a Russian influence campaign is one of the reasons MicroChip wanted to explain how he helped build it: not to take credit (he repeatedly referred to the network as a group effort) but to set the record straight.

“I’m not Russian,” MicroChip said. “I don’t work for Trump. There could very well be Russian bots. I just never saw them and we were in this deep. We’ve been on Twitter every day for the last year and a half. I haven’t seen any bots that I don’t know who they are.”

And if MicroChip is a Russian agent, it’s worth wondering why he, nearly three months into the Trump presidency, has plans to expand his network in the coming weeks with a new set of botting tools.

In a Twitter argument Monday with the Brooklyn developer Nathan Bernard, MicroChip teased that his network is about to get much, much bigger.

“The botnet [is] about to happen 10 X in about a week,” he wrote. “Get ready.”

Quelle: <a href="Nevermind The Russians, Meet The Bot King Who Helps Trump Win Twitter“>BuzzFeed

How YouTube Serves As The Content Engine Of The Internet's Dark Side

How YouTube Serves As The Content Engine Of The Internet's Dark Side

YouTube

David Seaman is the King of the Internet.

On Twitter, Seaman posts dozens of messages a day to his 66,000 followers, often about the secret cabal — including Rothschilds, Satanists, and the other nabobs of the New World Order — behind the nation’s best-known, super-duper-secret child sex ring under a DC pizza parlor.

But it’s on YouTube where he really goes to work. Since Nov. 4, four days before the election, Seaman has uploaded 136 videos, more than one a day. Of those, at least 42 are about Pizzagate. The videos, which tend to run about eight to fifteen minutes, typically consist of Seaman, a young, brown-haired man with glasses and a short beard, speaking directly into a camera in front of a white wall. He doesn’t equivocate: Recent videos are titled “Pizzagate Will Dominate 2017, Because It Is Real” and “PizzaGate New Info 12/6/16: Link To Pagan God of Pedophilia/Rape.”

Seaman has more than 150,000 subscribers. His videos, usually preceded by preroll ads for major brands like Quaker Oats and Uber, have been watched almost 18 million times, which is roughly the number of people who tuned in to last year’s season finale of NCIS, the most popular show on television.

His biography reads, in part, “I report the truth.”

In the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election, the major social platforms, most notably Twitter, Facebook, and Reddit, have been forced to undergo painful, often public reckonings with the role they play in spreading bad information. How do services that have become windows onto the world for hundreds of millions of people square their desire to grow with the damage that viral false information, “alternative facts,” and filter bubbles do to a democracy?

And yet there is a mammoth social platform, a cornerstone of the modern internet with more than a billion active users every month, which hosts and even pays for a fathomless stock of bad information, including viral fake news, conspiracy theories, and hate speech of every kind — and it’s been held up to virtually no scrutiny: YouTube.

The entire contemporary conspiracy-industrial complex of internet investigation and social media promulgation, which has become a defining feature of media and politics in the Trump era, would be a very small fraction of itself without YouTube. Yes, the site most people associate with “Gangnam Style,” pirated music, and compilations of dachshunds sneezing is also the central content engine of the unruliest segments of the ascendant right-wing internet, and sometimes its enabler.

To wit, the conspiracy-news internet’s biggest stars, some of whom now enjoy New Yorker profiles and presidential influence, largely live on YouTube. Infowars — whose founder and host, Alex Jones, claims Sandy Hook didn’t happen, Michelle Obama is a man, and 9/11 was an inside job — broadcasts to 2 million subscribers on YouTube. So does Michael “Gorilla Mindset” Cernovich. So too do a whole genre of lesser-known but still wildly popular YouTubers, people like Seaman and Stefan Molyneux (an Irishman closely associated with the popular “Truth About” format). As do a related breed of prolific political-correctness watchdogs like Paul Joseph Watson and Sargon of Akkad (real name: Carl Benjamin), whose videos focus on the supposed hypocrisies of modern liberal culture and the ways they leave Western democracy open to a hostile Islamic takeover. As do a related group of conspiratorial white-identity vloggers like Red Ice TV, which regularly hosts neo-Nazis in its videos.

“The internet provides people with access to more points of view than ever before,” YouTube wrote in a statement. “We&;re always taking feedback so we can continue to improve and present as many perspectives at a given moment in time as possible.”

YouTube

All this is a far cry from the platform’s halcyon days of 2006 and George Allen’s infamous “Macaca” gaffe. Back then, it felt reasonable to hope the site would change politics by bypassing a rose-tinted broadcast media filter to hold politicians accountable. As recently as 2012, Mother Jones posted to YouTube hidden footage of Mitt Romney discussing the “47%” of the electorate who would never vote for him, a video that may have swung the election. But by the time the 2016 campaign hit its stride, and a series of widely broadcast, ugly comments by then-candidate Trump didn’t keep him out of office, YouTube’s relationship to politics had changed.

Today, it fills the enormous trough of right-leaning conspiracy and revisionist historical content into which the vast, ravening right-wing social internet lowers its jaws to drink. Shared widely everywhere from white supremacist message boards to chans to Facebook groups, these videos constitute a kind of crowdsourced, predigested ideological education, offering the “Truth” about everything from Michelle Obama’s real biological sex (760,000 views&;) to why medieval Islamic civilization wasn’t actually advanced.

Frequently, the videos consist of little more than screenshots of a Reddit “investigation” laid out chronologically, set to ominous music. Other times, they’re very simple, featuring a man in a sparse room speaking directly into his webcam, or a very fast monotone narration over a series of photographs with effects straight out of iMovie. There’s a financial incentive for vloggers to make as many videos as cheaply they can; the more videos you make, the more likely one is to go viral. David Seaman’s videos typically garner more than 50,000 views and often exceed 100,000. Many of Seaman’s videos adjoin ads for major brands. A preroll ad for Asana, the productivity software, precedes a video entitled “WIKILEAKS: Illuminati Rothschild Influence & Simulation Theory”; before “Pizzagate: Do We Know the Full Scope Yet?&033;” it’s an ad for Uber, and before “HILLARY CLINTON&039;S HORROR SHOW,” one for a new Fox comedy. (Most YouTubers have no direct control over which brands&039; ads run next to their videos, and vice versa.)

This trough isn’t just wide, it’s deep. A YouTube search for the term “The Truth About the Holocaust” returns half a million results. The top 10 are all Holocaust-denying or Holocaust-skeptical. (Sample titles: “The Greatest Lie Ever Told,” which has 500,000 views; “The Great Jewish Lie”; “The Sick Lies of a Holocaust™ &039;Survivor.&039;”) Say the half million videos average about 10 minutes. That works out to 5 million minutes, or about 10 years, of “Truth About the Holocaust.”

Meanwhile, “The Truth About Pizzagate” returns a quarter of a million results, including “PizzaGate Definitive Factcheck: Oh My God” (620,000 views and counting) and “The Men Who Knew Too Much About PizzaGate” (who, per a teaser image, include retired Gen. Michael Flynn and Andrew Breitbart).

Sometimes, these videos go hugely viral. “With Open Gates: The Forced Collective Suicide of European Nations” — an alarming 20-minute video about Muslim immigration to Europe featuring deceptive editing and debunked footage — received some 4 million views in late 2015 before being taken down by YouTube over a copyright claim. (Infowars: “YouTube Scrambles to Censor Viral Video Exposing Migrant Invasion.”) That’s roughly as many people as watched the Game of Thrones Season 3 premiere. It’s since been scrubbed of the copyrighted music and reuploaded dozens of times.

First circulated by white supremacist blogs and chans, “With Gates Wide Open” gained social steam until it was picked up by Breitbart, at which point it exploded, blazing the viral trail by which conspiracy-right “Truth” videos now travel. Last week, President Trump incensed the nation of Sweden by falsely implying that it had recently suffered a terrorist attack. Later, he clarified in a tweet that he was referring to a Fox News segment. That segment featured footage from a viral YouTube documentary, Stockholm Syndrome, about the dangers of Muslim immigration into Europe. Sources featured in the documentary have since accused its director, Ami Horowitz, of “bad journalism” for taking their answers out of context.

So what responsibility, if any, does YouTube bear for the universe of often conspiratorial, sometimes bigoted, frequently incorrect information that it pays its creators to host, and that is now being filtered up to the most powerful person in the world? Legally, per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which absolves service providers of liability for content they host, none. But morally and ethically, shouldn’t YouTube be asking itself the same hard questions as Facebook and Twitter about the role it plays in a representative democracy? How do those questions change because YouTube is literally paying people to upload bad information?

And practically, if YouTube decided to crack down, could it really do anything?

YouTube does “demonitize” videos that it deems “not advertiser-friendly,” and last week, following a report in the Wall Street Journal that Disney had nixed a sponsorship deal with the YouTube superstar PewDiePie over anti-Semitic content in his videos, YouTube pulled his channel from its premium ad network. But such steps have tended to follow public pressure and have only affected extremely famous YouTubers. And it’s not like PewDiePie will go hungry; he can still run ads on his videos, which regularly do millions of views.

Ultimately, the platform may be so huge as to be ungovernable: Users upload 400 hours of video to YouTube every minute. One possibility is drawing a firmer line between content the company officially designates as news and everything else; YouTube has a dedicated News vertical that pulls in videos from publishers approved by Google News.

Even there, though, YouTube has its work cut out for it. On a recent evening, the first result I saw under the “Live Now – News” subsection of youtube.com/news was the Infowars “Defense of Liberty 13 Hour Special Broadcast.” Alex Jones was staring into the camera.

Quelle: <a href="How YouTube Serves As The Content Engine Of The Internet&039;s Dark Side“>BuzzFeed

The Viral Anti-Trump Movement Is Here — And It's A Huge Target

In the 20 days since the inauguration, public acts of opposition to the Trump administration and its supporters have started to go viral. An online consumer movement — DeleteUber — spread so wildly that it may have played a role in Uber’s decision to drop out of the President’s business advisory council. A video of a masked man punching white separatist leader Richard Spencer was transmogrified into thousands of memes. And most significantly, a series of protests, some violent, have been broadcast via smartphone to the social feeds of a rapt nation.

Together, these acts have been taken by media across the political spectrum as the first stirrings of a new kind of mass resistance that leverages the scale and speed of the social internet. Writing in the New York Times, Farhad Manjoo made the case that these events constitute unignorable counterprogramming to a President who has an estranged relationship with the truth:

“…there are crowds on every screen and every feed. The people aren’t saying nice things about [Trump]. And there’s something worse than that, too: They’ve stolen the limelight for themselves.”

It’s a powerful vision: Dissenting citizens empowered by the internet, forcing the nation’s attention on themselves, demanding to be heard. But while moments like these might hearten the opposition to Donald Trump in the short term, they also provide an enormous and permanent target for an equally sophisticated internet movement that supports the American president and is well equipped to use the viral tools of the opposition against individuals.

“One of the great strengths of social networks like Twitter is that they allow communities to be visible that have been invisible,” said Aimée Morrison, a professor of New Media studies at the University of Waterloo. “There’s a winning and losing that comes from greater visibility. There is political power… As a group that’s great, but individual people can become very vulnerable.”

In 2017, the limelight is a strange and lingering thing. Almost as soon as they happen, viral political moments pass through the prisms of unprecedentedly partisan filter bubbles, into the obsessive digital netherworlds of internet investigation and conspiratorial media, where they&;re used and re-used in contexts often dramatically different from the ones from which they came. And, crucially, they leave residue — images, words, video — along the way. The video of, for example, Spencer&039;s assault, now exists in numerous forms and lives in thousands or tens of thousands of different places online. Like any meme, it is everywhere. And now, the anti-anti-Trump internet is rabidly searching for the identity of the masked man who punched Spencer, the subject of a $5000 “bounty” on the right-wing crowd-sourced investigations site WeSearchr.

Last week, another right-wing news site, GotNews, obtained and published the names, ages and hometowns of 231 people arrested during Inauguration Day protests in Washington, DC. Other fringe right-wing news sites followed. And almost immediately, a network of Twitter accounts and white nationalist forums began poring over the information and linking the names to social media accounts, and in some cases outing the arrestees.

A Virginia man who was arrested at the inauguration and who asked not to be identified told BuzzFeed News that his name and information were posted to Twitter by the white nationalist writer Andrew Joyce. Though Joyce’s account was suspended, the man said someone posted a screenshot of the Tweet to Facebook page of a business he runs out of his home, along with a warning not to patronize it.

“I was afraid to go outside that night,” he said. “I went to smoke a cigarette and I thought, what if someone comes and shoots me?” The man said he has since taken down the Facebook page.

“I was afraid to go outside that night. I went to smoke a cigarette and I thought, what if someone comes and shoots me?”

Charles Johnson, the owner of GotNews and founder of WeSearchr, told BuzzFeed News that the public had a right to know the names of the protestors.

“It&039;s journalism bro,” he wrote in an email. “These are criminals and the public deserves to know who they are. In my opinion it&039;s racist that the mug shots aren&039;t being released. We always get the mug shots of black criminals. Why not hipster rioters from Brooklyn? We have several cash bounties against the antifa and are actively working with federal and local law enforcement to see them brought to justice. It won&039;t be long now.”

The anti-anti-Trump internet hardly limits its efforts to black bloc anti-fascists and overzealous protesters. Last month, immigration activists warned that trolls were monitoring and promoting the popular Twitter hashtag in an effort to catalogue and report undocumented workers.

Acts of political resistance spread on social media, followed by personal retribution: This is a familiar pattern. In 2011, journalists, politicians, and technologists hailed the role that social networks played in toppling a succession of dictators in the Middle East. In the years that followed, the same people watched in despair as revanchist authoritarians scoured the very same social networks to target the activists and organizers who had used them, they thought, to gain their political freedom. The great technological lesson of the Arab Spring was that social platforms are not inherently democratic; rather, they can just as easily oppress people as express their will.

To be sure, the next anti-administration activist the pro-Trump, alt-right internet manages to get thrown in jail will be the first. But it would be a mistake to dismiss the anti-anti-Trump internet as simply conspiracy mongers or attention-seeking opportunists. While the alt-right may not be able to turn out in great numbers to a street protest, they’ve shown themselves since the nascent days of Gamergate to be remarkably adept at fomenting information campaigns against individual and corporate targets, from Brianna Wu and Intel to Comet Ping Pong and John Podesta. (Earlier this week. the alt-right came up with its own answer to : , a response to the site releasing a television expansion of the 2014 campus satire Dear White People, which the Twitter user @BakedAlaska, a hero of the pro-Trump internet said “promotes white genocide.”) Meanwhile, the sheer number of new, Trump-loyal outlets trading in conspiracy and confirmation bias suggests that any and all information surfaced by the same churning engine that produced will be spread further and faster than ever.

And maybe higher. Charles Johnson worked for Steve Bannon, the president’s powerful chief strategist, at Breitbart, and was reported by Forbes to be advising the Trump transition team. While there is no evidence to suggest that the Trump administration is actively monitoring social media campaigns in order to target private individuals, federal law enforcement has used social media as a tool to impose the President’s since-stayed executive order on immigration. Last week, BBC reporter Ali Hamedani announced that a customs agent seized his phone and read his tweets during his detention at Chicago’s O’Hare airport:

It’s a reminder that, for all the excitement that viral Trump resistance has produced on the left, every unit of that virality — whether it’s a face on a Periscope stream, a tweet, or a Facebook group — is a piece of information that can be seized, decontextualized, and ultimately used against the opposition. And that when it comes to social media’s ability to effect change, proximity to power and access to force matter just as much — if not more — than a majority.

Quelle: <a href="The Viral Anti-Trump Movement Is Here — And It&039;s A Huge Target“>BuzzFeed

Inside The Alt-Right’s Campaign To Smear Trump Protesters As Anarchists

Less than a week after last year&;s presidential election, a Trump supporter named Alan Beck tweeted two photographs of an anti-Trump protest in Washington, DC, in which a hooded figure held aloft a sign reading “Rape Melania.” The images went viral, and the sign — as well as Twitter — drew swift condemnation from news outlets both right and left.

Some Trump supporters took the sign as confirmation that the passionate national opposition to the president-elect was ultimately anarchic and violent. (Many of these supporters had drawn a similar conclusion about the movement.) “The current surge in the left&039;s propensity toward violence and mayhem should surprise no one,” wrote one InfoWars commenter. And to some Clinton supporters, the sign was a gutting refutation of Michelle Obama&039;s “when they go low, we go high” speech and a reminder that Trump rallies didn&039;t hold a monopoly on menace.

But, BuzzFeed News has learned, the “Rape Melania” sign was not the work of an anti-Trump protestor at all. Instead, according to sources, it was the brainchild of a group of Trump supporters led by Jack Posobiec, one of the organizers of the controversial Deploraball inauguration party and a prominent figure in the pro-Trump internet.

Furthermore, as shown by a series of Posobiec&039;s text messages obtained by BuzzFeed News and confirmed by a source who collaborated with Posobiec, the sign was the culmination of a disinformation campaign by Posobiec and others intended to paint the anti-Trump rallies as violent and out of control.

In a phone call with BuzzFeed News, Posobiec denied that the texts were sent by him and said that it was likely they had been Photoshopped. He also denied having any involvement in the campaign.

BuzzFeed News reviewed the texts on a source&039;s iPhone in Signal, the secure texting app, and the Signal messages allegedly from Posobiec came from the same phone number on which BuzzFeed News talked to Posobiec.

At 9:59 p.m. on November 10, Posobiec posted a video to Twitter of an anti-Trump protestor yelling “Assassinate that nigga.” In a 10:30 p.m. text message that same night, Posobiec claimed that he&039;d started an “assassinate Trump” chant to goad protestors into copying him, with the intention of filming them:

Though the video didn&039;t go viral, it was picked up by Russia Today and some conservative blogs. In the same text message conversation, Posobiec and his collaborator brainstormed other incendiary things to chant, including “Rape Melania.”

Two days later, in another text obtained by BuzzFeed News, Posobiec discussed with another collaborator his plan to “discredit” an anti-Trump protest by infiltrating it “with the bad signs.”

According to a source, it is Posobiec himself holding the “Rape Melania” sign in the photographs published by Beck — a charge Posobiec also denies.

After posting the photographs, Beck uploaded a 22-minute YouTube video of he and Posobiec sitting in a car near the protest, entitled “Anti-Trump Protester Created&039;R4PE MELANIA&;&039; Sign and The Rest of the Protesters Do Nothing.”

The following day, a collaborator texted Posobiec a screenshot of Twitter&039;s trending topics, of which “Rape Melania” was number 3. Posobiec responded, “Woah&033;”

Today, the former Deploraball organizer Anthime Gionet — who goes by Baked Alaska on Twitter – accused Posobiec of making the sign.

Posobiec, who is the special projects director of a grassroots organization called CitizensForTrump, has been at the center of several flareups of the new right media in recent weeks. In November, Posobiec was thrown out of Comet Ping Pong, the Washington DC pizza parlor made infamous by , for filming a children&039;s birthday party. And in December, Posobiec started the viral hashtag after claiming that last month&039;s film Rogue One contained anti-Trump scenes.

Quelle: <a href="Inside The Alt-Right’s Campaign To Smear Trump Protesters As Anarchists“>BuzzFeed

Martin Shkreli And The Case For Twitter Transparency

This afternoon, Twitter suspended the account of noted troll and former Pharma CEO, Martin Shkreli. Over the weekend Shkreli aggressively directed the attention of his widely-followed Twitter account to Lauren Duca, a freelance journalist, after seeing her on television.

In the span of a few days Shkreli: 1) direct messaged Duca to invite her to be his date at the inauguration. 2) changed his Twitter bio to read “i have a small crush on @laurenduca (hope she doesn’t find out).” 3) created a collage of images of Duca as his Twitter header. 4) changed his profile picture to a doctored image of Duca and her husband, where Shkreli’s face is photoshopped over Duca’s husband’s. Duca, who has over 130,000 Twitter followers, posted Shkreli’s bio and images around 11 AM Sunday morning. They went viral instantly and Shkreli was banned in just over two hours. “The Twitter Rules prohibit targeted harassment, and we will take action on accounts violating those policies,” a Twitter spokesperson told BuzzFeed News.

To Twitter’s credit, the company responded quickly to Duca’s plea and the subsequent tweets about Shkreli’s behavior. But Twitter’s vague, one sentence justification for the suspension — the result of its long-stated policy not to comment on individual accounts for the privacy of its users — highlights a broader concern for the company in 2017: Twitter, despite its attempts to police its platform, appears unwilling to engage in the necessary transparency surrounding the harassment of its users.

Part of what makes online harassment such an intractable problem is that it is difficult to pin down with a tidy definition. Which is precisely why more radical transparency surrounding abuse suspensions are crucial. Shkreli’s behavior appears equal parts creepy, stalkerish, and targeted. While the photos and messages are not explicitly threatening, to an outsider there’s implied harassment. Certainly Duca appears to have viewed the actions that way. She responded publicly to a direct message from Shrkeli inviting her to be his date to the inauguration with, “I would rather eat my own organs” before reporting his behavior to Twitter.

From a Twitter abuse perspective however, Shkreli’s tweets occupy a fraught grey area of behavior that is morally objectionable, but perhaps not always enforceable. Twitter’s rules — well known among the platform’s trolls — are reasonably specific, but still open to interpretation. In Shkreli’s case, Twitter interpreted his Duca photoshops and messages to her as targeted harassment. But it might have just as easily 86’d Shkreli for photoshopping his head on Duca’s husband had it interpreted that tweet a violation of its impersonation rule.

Or Twitter could have interpreted Shkreli’s tweets as non-threatening altogether. Historically, Twitter has allowed photoshopped photos of ISIS beheadings to stay up for days without banning users. The company was also slow to root out attempts by trolls to disenfranchise Black and Latino voters with misinformation before last year’s election. Just last month, Twitter chose not to take action against Mike Cernovich after he repeatedly insinuated (with zero substantive evidence) that online comedian Vic Berger IV was child molestor. After a Twitter fight with Berger, Cernovich — a popular blogger loosely associated with the alt-right (and, early on, a frequent tweeter) — implied frequently via Twitter and Periscope that Berger was involved in an online pedophilia ring. Simply put, Twitter has allowed users to stay on its platform for far more flagrant behavior.

For Twitter — which has historically aimed to intervene as little as possible in the affairs of its users — each suspension sets a precedent. But these precedents are largely unknown to a big portion of the company’s users (indeed, 90% of respondents in a BuzzFeed News survey of 2700 Twitter users said Twitter didn’t do anything when they reported abuse). Some form of transparency — specific tweets a user was suspended for, how Twitter chose to interpret a specific guideline in its rules, for example — could simultaneously deter trolls and act as a manual for users to report violations with more clarity. Most importantly, it would allow users, journalists, and anyone else to hold Twitter accountable for its seemingly inconsistent enforcement decisions.

Greater transparency is arguably in Twitter’s best interest, too. Take the example of Richard Spencer, a prominent white nationalist and leading figure in the alt-right movement, who was suspended back in November during a crackdown on alt-right accounts. Twitter’s move was criticized by some as an example of overly aggressive censorship. While Spencer might be controversial, they argued, he didn’t appear to have violated Twitter’s abuse rules. It turns out those critics were right. A month later, when Spencer was reinstated, Twitter revealed that Spencer had been banned on a technicality — for violating the company’s multiple accounts rule.

Twitter’s ‘no comment on individual accounts’ policy, no matter how well-intentioned can sometimes make enforcement appear even more arbitrary than it already is. An alternate defense by Twitter — and other tech companies combatting abuse — is that a lack of transparency makes it harder for trolls to exploit the rules. But opaque and seemingly inconsistent enforcement opens Twitter’s rules up to exploitation by bad actors — indeed an effective trolling tactic method is to use Twitter’s harassment reporting infrastructure and tools against those who are fighting or being trolled.

In late December, when Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey tweeted out an open call for suggestions for improving Twitter, a number of users asked that the company be more vigilant and consistent on abuse. Dorsey tweeted, “we definitely need to be more transparent about why and how. Big priority for this year.” He noted as well that the company was “working to better explain and be transparent and real-time about our methods.”

Just a week into 2017, Dorsey and Twitter had a chance to do just that, but chose not to. Twitter’s response then, similar to its harassment rules, is open to interpretation by its millions of users. In one interpretation, Shkreli’s suspension is a promising sign of faster, more vigilant enforcement to come. The other? That Twitter reacted to mollify the viral outrage of the harassment of a prominent journalist by a prominent troll — a quick and easy band-aid on a high-profile wound.

Quelle: <a href="Martin Shkreli And The Case For Twitter Transparency“>BuzzFeed

This Man Helped Build The Trump Meme Army — And Now He Wants To Reform It

This Man Helped Build The Trump Meme Army — And Now He Wants To Reform It

MAGA3X / Via deploraball.com

Following this weekend’s social media meltdown over the guest list of the Deploraball —an inauguration bash celebrating the role a right-wing social media insurgency played in Donald Trump’s presidential campaign — a man named Jeff Giesea finds himself in the crosshairs of a livid troll army. It’s an army he helped create.

Giesea, a Washington DC entrepreneur and consultant, is one of the minds behind MAGA3X, a meme-happy social media organization that describes itself on Twitter as “a citizen grassroots movement that helped elect Trump” and on its website as “Freedom’s Secret Weapon.” He is also one of the organizers of the Deploraball, now the site of a dispute threatening to destroy the alt-right — the nascent conservative alliance of hardcore trolls, white supremacists, anti-SJWs, Trumpian nationalists, and memelords — on the eve of its greatest triumph.

“We just had a bad public breakup,” Giesea said.

In short: Last week, Giesea, a startup veteran who has worked for Peter Thiel and the Koch brothers, and his co-organizer, the conservative internet personality Mike Cernovich, decided to remove a third co-organizer, Anthime Gionet (who goes by his Twitter handle, Baked Alaska, and the alias Timothy Treadstone) from the “Featured Guests” section of the Deploraball’s fact sheet after Gionet posted several anti-semitic tweets. Since then, prominent Twitter conservatives have been taking sides: in one corner, those who decry the alt-right’s associations with white supremacists and racists, and in the other, those who believe the Deploraball organizers have abandoned the movement’s commitment to offensive speech and its white nationalist vanguard at the first sign of mainstream acceptance.

“Whatever AltRight was, it’s been taken over by white supremacists and I disavow it,” wrote the pro-Trump radio host Bill Mitchell on Twitter. “I’m AmericaFirst where we can ALL be great again.”

Meanwhile, on the white supremacist website the Daily Stormer, editor Andrew Anglin wrote, “This act of Cernovich has caused a rift within the pro-Trump alliance, which I believe is a very good thing. People are choosing sides, mainly on the Jewish issue. To a lesser extent on the racial issue.”

It looks, on Twitter at least, like the fracturing of the pro-Trump internet in real time. But can the men behind a kinder, gentler Deploraball survive the split? And can Giesea learn to live with the meme army he helped build, now that it’s peacetime?

Giesea

Via jeffgiesea.com

Among the men’s rights alumni, opportunistic culture warriors, outright white nationalists, and self-made digital media impresarios who comprise the leadership of the pro-Trump internet, Jeff Giesea is unique. First, he’s not public: He hardly tweets, he doesn’t have his own video channel, and he doesn’t pick fights online. Second, while much of the pro-Trump internet lambasts out-of-touch, Ivy-educated city-dwellers, Giesea is a gay Stanford graduate who lives in Washington, DC. He is precisely what people mean when they talk about the coastal elite.

At Stanford, Giesea edited the Stanford Review, the conservative paper founded by Peter Thiel, the tech billionaire who is advising the president-elect on all things Silicon Valley. After graduating in 1997, Giesea went to work for Thiel Capital Management, Thiel’s hedge fund. Over the next fifteen years, he started and sold several startups; these days, he works as a coach for executives.

“Trolling, it might be said, is the social media equivalent of guerrilla warfare”

But two years ago, Giesea found himself “bored being nice to people all the time. I felt like I wanted to do something more substantial and I felt like Western civilization was in a fragile place.”

Around that time, Giesea met over Twitter Chuck Johnson, the notorious troll and journalist who has been in the news recently for his close friendship with Malik Obama, the president’s Trump-loving half brother. In an article entitled “It’s Time to Embrace Memetic Warfare” published in the official journal of the NATO Strategic Communications Centre of Excellence, Giesea described “carousing” “over beers” with Johnson, while plotting how to troll ISIS.

“When I met Chuck I wondered why we weren’t weaponizing people like him,” Giesea said. “He led me on this intellectual journey.”

That journey led to Giesea to a realization that

…Warfare through trolling and memes is a necessary, inexpensive,

and easy way to help destroy the appeal and morale of our common enemies… Trolling, it might be said, is the social media equivalent of guerrilla warfare, and memes are its currency of propaganda.

And in the same article, Giesea noticed that Trump supporters online were already practicing advanced meme warfare:

In the U.S. Republican Primary race, Jeb Bush recently attempted to paint Donald Trump as the ‘chaos candidate’. But when his campaign tried spreading a hashtag, trolls supporting Trump took it over and used it to denigrate Jeb Bush. Hashtags, one might say, are operational coordinates of memetic warfare.

Once a libertarian and always a political theory buff, Giesea found himself late last year migrating to what he calls Trump’s “civic nationalism”: Nationalism based on civic pride rather than ethnicity or religion.

“I see Trumpism as the only practical and moral path to save Western civilization from itself,” Giesea said.

So he got involved. He organized a meeting for gays at the RNC. And he helped Mike Cernovich build MAGA3X, a grassroots, digital, pro-Trump organization. Together, they set up a network of pro-Trump internet influencers, including Jack Posobiec and Gionet.

(While Giesea wouldn’t disclose how much of his own money he spent on MAGA3X, he described himself as the organization’s “behind the scenes business guy.”)

The MAGA3X accounts were a water cannon of memes, Breitbart stories, Wikileaks theories, pro-Trump YouTube videos, and cartoons about , and they swelled to the tens of thousands, eventually gaining public praise from General Michael Flynn, the National Security Advisor-to-be. To its efforts on Twitter and Facebook, MAGA3X added a series of flashmobs, many of which were organized by Gionet. They even built a meme generator to promote the meetups. If Giesea hadn’t quite conscripted a troll army, he had certainly done his part in winning the rhetorical war on the internet.

Then two unexpected things happened: Donald Trump won the presidency, and less than two weeks later, Richard Spencer — the much-covered poster boy for the new white nationalism and coiner of the term “alt-right” — gave a Nazi salute on stage at a conference in Washington, DC.

It was the gesture heard ‘round the pro-Trump internet, and it divided people into three rough camps: Those who approved of the sentiment and the action; those who approved of the sentiment but found the action counter-productive; and those who, for various reasons, wanted nothing to do with the sentiment or the action. Spencer’s salute also focused mainstream media attention closely on his white nationalist beliefs. Media, never good at covering leaderless online movements, suddenly had an alt-right leader, and a political platform to attach the label to.

“The alt-right was this big huge umbrella term,” Giesea said. “More recently it’s taken on much more narrow connotations around white nationalism. Now it’s kind of like, pick a lane.”

The Deploraball has very much picked a lane, and it’s not alt-right. After one venue backed out of hosting the event over contested claims of harassment, Giesea convinced the executive director of the august National Press Club, where he was once a member, to hold it. In a fact sheet, the organizers explicitly state that the event is not associated with the alt-right:

This is an event for Trump supporters from across the country, from all backgrounds, ethnicities, and walks of life. We will not tolerate any incendiary actions that are discriminatory in nature and/or designed to disrupt the event. If we had to put a label on our group, we would call them Trumpists. This is a new type of Republican and presence in town.

Richard Spencer isn’t going — Giesea called his fantasy of an ethnostate “irresponsible” and “immoral…I don’t know how it could happen without the breakup of America or ethnic cleansing.” Neither is Sam Hyde, co-creator of the cancelled Adult Swim sketch comedy show Million Dollar Extreme Presents: World Peace. And neither, of course, is Baked Alaska Some guests have consequently asked for refunds (which will be honored, according to Giesea.)

Now, Cernovich and Giesea’s event has become a target of the most vocal part of the movement they helped to build. White nationalists like Anglin and Spencer have started to call them the “alt-light” — enemies of political correctness but hardly fellow race warriors. A legion of internet horribles has seized on Cernovich’s manner of speaking to taunt him. Anonymous Twitter accounts have suggested that attendees raise Nazi salutes at the event to sabotage it. A cartoon depicting Gionet stabbed in the back by a knife bearing a Star of David on the handle has spread widely. And Gionet, in a since-deleted series of tweets, lambasted the Deploraball organizers and Giesea specifically. (Gionet declined BuzzFeed’s request to discuss the circumstances of his removal from the event.)

By excluding the more explicitly racist and controversial figures in the Trump internet from the Deploraball in favor of people like Roger Stone and Milo Yiannopoulos — who were well known before the rise of the alt-right — Giesea and Cernovich have in some ways recapitulated the Trump transition, which immediately dropped its promise to drain the swamp and appointed a succession of Beltway insiders and billionaires to important posts. That leaves the newly cleaved polite portion of the Trump internet with a fundamental question: What, exactly, does it stand for, if not no-holds-barred meme war?

That remains to be seen. While Giesea certainly rejects some of the outright discrimination encouraged by parts of the alt-right — “I’m gay, why would I support a movement that wants to turn me into a lampshade?” he said — he also said his perspective “isn’t totally colorblind” and doesn’t ignore demographics, specifically that America is getting less white. But it’s very possible that the contingent of pro-Trump internet supporters who are both intellectually committed to discussing the cultural, social, and electoral consequences of the shrinking size of the white majority in America and morally committed to decrying racial hatred is hardly big enough to fill out the masthead of a campus newspaper.

Over the weekend, as the conflict crescendoed on Twitter, Giesea had doubts about moving forward with the Deploraball. “The people from middle America who are coming here don’t deserve to be dragged into some drama where people sieg heil,” he said. But he decided the celebration was too important to cancel. And so, unless the National Press Club pulls out, the party will go on, a thousand Trump supporters with varying agendas, plied with booze, celebrating their new president.

“I’m concerned with enforcing behavioral standards,” Giesea said. “It’s a tough needle to thread.”

Quelle: <a href="This Man Helped Build The Trump Meme Army — And Now He Wants To Reform It“>BuzzFeed