Memory Space and Digital Remembrance: the Speak2Tweet Archive

PUBLISHED: Technoecologies 2: Media Art Histories. Ed. Rasa Šmite, Armin Medosch, and Raitis Šmits. Riga, Latvia: RIXC, The Centre for New Media Culture, 2014. 147-54. Print. Memory Space and Digital Remembrance: the Speak2Tweet Archive Heba Yehia Amin Independent Researcher Abstract: This paper investigates spaces of remembrance in the age of digital communication. It looks at the emergence of cyberspace as a memory space and examines how public memory is intertwined with urban topologies and new media. It seeks to interrogate the commoditization of memory culture through the saturation of communication technologies. With the need to produce and consume personalized forms of historical knowledge, how does the web’s capacity for seemingly infinite storage affect future memory-based narratives, particularly in cases of trauma? Finally, the paper uses Egypt as a case study with a focus on Speak2Tweet, a platform that preserved the vocalized sentiments of its users during the initial days of the Egyptian revolution. Keywords: Egypt, Speak2tweet, revolution, memory, social media, techno-urbanism “Memory as re-presentation, as making present, is always in danger of collapsing the constitutive tension between past and present, especially when the imagined past is sucked into the timeless present of the all-pervasive virtual space of consumer culture” (Huyssen 2003, p. 10). SYNTHETIC REALITIES Our ancient cities were built to connect to the cosmos. The ancient Babylonians built a tower located at the axis of the universe connecting the earth and the heaven with a straight line. Its construction, technological ambition and myth are embedded in the imagination of our collective conscious. Believed to be the historical origins of the “Tower of Babel” a basic Google search indicates that remnants of the Etemenanki lay 88.5 kilometers from modern day Baghdad; anyone can now view its ruins with the help of technological tools that allow us to view the digital maps of our myths (see Figure 1). Our technological progress has instigated a new paradigm of thinking where “memory and temporality have invaded spaces and media” (Huyssen 2003, p. 7). The boundaries of time, space, history, and geography have become correlated in complex ways. Alfred Korzybski (1994) famously stated that “the map is not the territory” implying a misinterpretation of the absolute reality of space (xvii). Technology, in a sense, has further blurred the lines between our representations of space and space itself. While the relationship between consciousness and technology has disrupted the mythos of our urban environments, it ultimately brought about a new basis for the collective social life. Our new technologies allow for “unprecedented perceptual acuity” where map and territory cannot be so neatly separated (Buck-Morss, 1995, p. 267). Industrialization’s threat to language and expression is overcome through the “synthetic realities” contrived by technology, as Walter Benjamin suggests, and they serve to enhance and transform our cognitive skills (ibid p. 268).

The Etemenanki is a palimpsest of the urban imaginary. Today’s media tools present other dimensions of reality as they allow us to not only see images of the Etemenanki but also to explore its details from thousands of miles away. Its physical presence is embedded in an illusion of the past as we investigate its narrative like we investigate the narrative of the cosmos. Through new technologies we’ve come to know our environments from afar just as well as those in close proximity; our sense of locality has become abstracted as the media experience converged with urban reality. There is no doubt that the digitization of information has influenced our historical consciousness and continues to shape our memories but, despite the web’s predisposition of remembering everything, we cannot actually rely on the mere presence of collective data to secure a sense of coherence or continuity (Huyssen, 2003). Indeed, our seemingly unlimited capacity to store information has allowed us to access and create multiple, conflicting narratives and maps of our cities.

Figure 1: Map of Etemenanki, courtesy of Google Earth

The contemporary city enforces an awareness of space and time as distinct and separate and yet requires that they converge in relaying the urban experience (Tuan, 1977). Architectural form can be seen as a record of human history, a frozen spatiality that serves as the repository of urban memories. Today, the urban context is intertwined with new media memory in ways that may confuse the distinctions between our temporal dimensions. In an age where we obsessively document everything with our mobile devices, we also accumulate massive amounts of information at an uncontrollable speed. Wendy Hui Kyong Chun (2008) suggests that “rather than getting caught up in speed, we must analyse, as we try to grasp a present that is always degenerating, the ways in which ephemerality is made to endure. What is surprising is not that digital media fades but rather that it stays at all and that we stay transfixed by our screens as its ephemerality endures” (p. 148). We are, in fact, all archivists in the age of digital information contributing to a reversal in the tradition of memory; the default value of our technological constructs, according to sociologist Elena Esposito (2014), has become that of remembering and not of forgetting. The past has become part of our present and the discourse of history no longer guarantees the “stability of the past in its pastness” (Huyssen 2003, p. 1).

SPACES OF REMEMBRANCE We live in a culture of memory, and market our past narratives through cultural production. As constructed artifacts, architecture and film, in particular, are not neutral spaces of remembrance; they dictate what and how people remember as the collective literally consumes memory. Our memory culture has come to serve the particular goal of dealing with our traumatic pasts; it suggests ways of approaching the struggle for justice and humanity, imparting notions of democracy amidst wars and dictatorships (Bonder, 2009). But as we create and fabricate illusions of the past to serve fantasies of the future, myths become the reality of our historical consciousness. Scholars have written extensively on memory and trauma in relation to monuments and memorials as spaces of commemoration. The monument, as art historian Alois Riegl (1996) states, “[i]n its oldest and most original sense […] is a work of man erected for the specific purpose of keeping particular human deeds or destinies (or a complex accumulation thereof) alive and present in the consciousness of future generations” (p. 69). Our monuments do not function merely as spaces of remembrance, but also give us opportunities for reflection while often bringing to the surface a multitude of ethical questions. Clearly the relationship between time and space in relation to memory is complex and multi-dimensional but, ideally, memory spaces should provide an opportunity for continued dialogue within the public realm, potentially bringing forth the in-between narratives. Today, public memory is not only intertwined with our urban spaces but it also cannot be detached from new media. Increased socialization on the Internet makes the new digital realm an aggregate of both material and mental content. Arguably, cyberspace has emerged as a public memory space in its own right. As a socially constructed and culturally diverse territory, it raises the dichotomy of ‘real’ versus ‘fantasy’ and allows us to question the definitions of urbanity. “Cyberspace is 'built' around pre-existing conceptualisations of the social world - of urban space and the social imaginary” (Fletcher, 1997). Interestingly, people not only mark their place in cyberspace but also attempt to immortalize their digital selves. Facebook, for example, has implemented a policy on the profiles of deceased users, allowing family and friends to turn an individual’s account into a memorial profile. Their Facebook “wall” becomes a space where loved ones can meet in the virtual world and collectively grieve by sharing memories (Strickland, 2009). Our obsession with self-memorialization has infiltrated mass culture and has become commoditized as individuals have access to tools such as “ifidie.net” and “thedigitalbeyond.com” to ensure their digital legacy. The saturation of our communication technologies has underscored the need to produce and consume personalized forms of historical knowledge. As the community grows on social media, users who turn every day acts into spectacle assist in the transformation of digital space into an imaginary construct. While we can utilize data mining and visualization to take snapshots of the human psyche through user-generated content on social media, it remains questionable how authentic and ‘real’ user-generated content really is. “Electronic memories do not admit to forgetfulness and their recollections seem too real to be authentic, they form another class of memory and need interpreting” (Punt 1999, 42). The Internet, in general, is above all a tool to market memory. Within these constructs, the ‘reality’ of our online activity becomes a contrived version of itself: a hyper-real terrain. Given the Internet’s inclination towards a deviated reality, how do we perceive the events of trauma that unfold online in real time? Is their reality any more authentic than historical narratives whose memories are recalled after the fact? Egypt’s recent political turmoil presents an interesting case study when in early 2011 the narrative of a revolution played out entirely online.

REVOLUTION OF THE PAST/PRESENT Egypt exudes the clichés of a romanticized ancient Egypt and, through its tourism industry, is banking on fantasy. Prior to the recent uprisings, if one were to look up Egypt on the Internet they would find a representation of a country that no longer exists, and perhaps never existed. Today, while its ancient monuments still define the country, Egypt’s contemporary spatial topographies are in complete flux. The country’s ongoing revolution completely changed the perceptions of public space and peoples’ engagement with it, but its contemporary narrative is incomplete without also considering the cyber landscape. Often credited for inciting the revolution, social media undoubtedly played a significant role in mobilizing people. However, Middle Eastern youth had been using the Internet, and Facebook in particular, as a publishing platform for news and information long before the uprising started. Groups like the April 6th Youth Movement and the “We Are All Khaled Said” Facebook group (often credited for starting the revolution) gained mass media attention for cultivating a new wave of Egyptian activists. They emerged from an already established movement of activists and bloggers who had been active online for many years. The sudden courage to take to the streets could be attributed to many things but, perhaps, especially to the growing dissident voice online. On 27 January 2011 Egyptian authorities responded to the growing oppositional movement and mass protests by shutting down the Internet. In an unprecedented move, they withdrew almost all routes to Egyptian networks, wiping Egypt almost completely off the world’s online maps (Kanalley, 2011). Within days, a group of programmers developed a platform called Speak2Tweet to keep the online voice alive despite Internet cuts by circumventing the use of new media. With a regular phone, Egyptians were prompted to call a designated number and leave a message. The platform was structured to automatically post voice recordings to Twitter at twitter.com/speak2tweet without the involvement of a third party. Through a mass SMS campaign, several hundred callers were using Speak2Tweet from around the country within a matter of days and, through a global effort of volunteers, their messages were translated and transcribed in several languages (Amin, 2013) (see Figure 2). In the case of Egypt, online sentiments had already ensured the support of a collective transition from cyberspace to physical space as protesters spent their days in the streets and continued their oppositional movement online. When the Internet was shutdown, a strong opposition had already been established. Therefore, it is not surprising that Speak2Tweet did not serve to mobilize the people. Firstly, Speak2Tweet messages were primarily accessed abroad and, secondly, protesters were already out in the streets. What it did provide, however, was an opportunity to voice personal sentiments to a world adamantly watching the events as they unfolded in Egypt. Speak2Tweet was an astounding feat of individual response: from the developers who reacted to the Internet shut down, to the rapid spread of information about it, to the users who made the phone calls, to the volunteers who translated and transcribed the recorded messages and posted them back online, and to the listeners who listened. It managed to reach a global stage within a couple of days made possible by volunteer efforts. Today Speak2Tweet is still available for use but, for obvious reasons, is not as relevant as during the time it was launched. Although no statistical data has officially been conducted on the archive yet, certain patterns emerged in the content of the messages. The awareness of digital immortality was relayed through the many recordings expressing the fear of being forgotten:

Brothers, Hosni Mubarak has disconnected me from all forms of communication. I won’t be able to contact you. Neither by telephone, nor by Internet, nor messages…I am going to the square, and I bid you farewell, because I don’t know what could happen. Pray for me. Pray for me. I don’t know if I will be returning or not. Please, keep the flag flying when I’m gone. Peace (Alive in Egypt, 2011).

Digital sound, no longer an ephemeral medium, alludes to a spatial presence frozen in time where we can literally hear the voice of the dead. “It was writing that enabled cultural memory by storing remembrance outside man” (Ernst 2013, 134); digital recordings, on the other hand, earn a status of immortality as the sound of the voice lives beyond time. What set Speak2Tweet apart from other social media platforms was the sound of the voice. Messages were not constrained by the character limits of Twitter or Facebook and further exposed intimate perspectives embedded with affective information (Amin, 2013).

Figure 2: Timeline of Communication Shutdown during the Revolution, courtesy of Ramy Raoof

Curiously, while no user profile information was required to use Speak2Tweet, many users stated their name and location when recording. Whether it was for the acknowledgement it brought them or security purposes is unclear. It was evident, however, that many called from places disconnected from the large-scale events taking place in big cities like Cairo and Alexandria. Perhaps Speak2Tweet users desired as visible a role as those appearing in the news media by exposing their personal information through poetry, music, patriotic speeches and generally voicing expressions of fear, hope and anger. Some messages revealed the need to relay the physical and psychological impact people had suffered from a corrupt dictatorship:

I dedicate this poem to the heroes of Tahrir, I was chanting it years ago when I was at the Natrun prison camp where I was imprisoned in 1994. I was the youngest ideological prisoner in Egypt. I experienced the injustice and humiliation that no child has ever seen. I was resident in ten different prison camps, the ugliest jailers, the ugliest prison cells, the worst sorts of torture I’ve ever seen. But now, my wound is healing when I see the hero’s of liberation – Tahrir - the healers of my wound, the wound that’s been bleeding all my life, the bleeding wound that I’ll take to my grave with it still bleeding.

I’m the son of the Nile – listen to my reciting & hymns Crying the ruins of our glory – with bitter tears deeply saddening me What deep sorrow I have for our past times, I cry the wasted ages I wonder if the past will come back for my singing and music I’m the son of the Nile – longing for a sunrise to brighten me Longing for a revolution by my brave people like a sweeping volcano An altar calling upon me liberating our Egypt the holiest of holy An altar stoning the followers of evil with burning fires I’m the flood that is watching them, giving them a chance for a little while longer I watch the tears of children, with overwhelming deep pain And I count the bleeding drops into the vein of my veins I’m the history that will not be merciful, sharpening my knife The fires of injustice are scorching me, thus, will harvest them without remorse Thank you, Abu Naseer El Sohaji (Alive in Egypt, 2011).

The platform carved a space in the cyber world that allowed Egyptians to outwardly vocalize their feelings and opinions in public for the first time. Interestingly, phone calls were made to an abstract entity with no human presence at the other end of the line. This made room for more rhetorical messages with questions and possible scenarios being posed, mimicking the contemplative spaces of memorials and monuments in urban space:

What would have happened, Mubarak, if you had invested in your children? What would have happened, Mubarak, if you have employed your youth? What would have happened if you were compassionate with your men, if you hadn’t put your hands with your enemies? What would have happened if greed didn’t take over you and you forgot your God? What would have happened if for one day you thought about your burial? What would have happened if you remembered your prophet? What would have happened if you gave up your greed? What would have happened if you didn’t become big-headed? What would have happened if you didn’t listen to the voice of your devil? Today your people and God would have glorified you and in history books or wherever you might be, would’ve been blessed (Alive in Egypt, 2011).

Speak2Tweet emerged as a place where users could preserve their physicality not only in local terms, but also on a worldwide scale. It also catered to those who were disconnected from the events, those who were abroad, allowing them to connect to the individual voice. Ostensibly, Speak2Tweet became a gathering point for the sharing of intimate expression within a limited time-frame when people felt safe enough to expose their inner thoughts. The Speak2Tweet archive exists in the vaults of the web archive, but what will be done with it in the future is unclear. Today, merely three years after the launch of the platform, the messages are no longer easily accessible to the public.

THE SEDUCTION OF THE ARCHIVE The seduction of the archive lies in the promise of infinite memory. Our technological systems are inherently problematic as we struggle to accommodate the speed at which information is being stored. The problem with media memory is that it is in fact always in transition and its technological construct ultimately cannot ensure permanence. Aside from technological glitches that can threaten the archive– storage devices can be erased and destroyed – the media archive potentially loses itself within the overwhelming production of information that deems data marginal. Media scientist Wolfgang Ernst (2013) goes on to suggest that even though we have the possibility to digitize and store all kinds of information, cyberspace ultimately has no memory. In fact, cyberspace is not about memory at all but rather “a performative form of memory as communication” (p. 99). Indeed, with the topological configuration of our web, it is predominantly algorithms that determine our archives and, in turn, our historical memories. In her lecture “Virtual Contingency – Digital Techniques of Remembering and Forgetting” sociologist Elena Esposito (2014) addresses the parasitic use of intelligence with the machine identifying and using previous selections of users to generate new data. Ultimately, the web’s preservation of data is not the only part of memory: retrieval and processing of data needs to be included in the idea of memory. CONCLUSION: TOOLS OF DEMOCRACY, TOOLS OF REPRESSION The memory machine is pervasive. The boundaries of temporal histories collapse as the digital archives become interconnected, each archive leading to several others. But while modes of alternative communication are incredibly valuable in promoting democratic principles, we ultimately need to question the corporate and government frameworks in which such developments occur. Egyptians relied on social media to bring people out into the streets. It was however within that same paradigm that the Egyptian voice was eliminated through a countrywide Internet shutdown and dissident voices were tracked. The commoditization of our communication tools has, as we have come to see, the potential danger of controlling our historical memories and re-writing our narratives altogether. In the post NSA surveillance cyber landscape we have become more aware of the paradoxical nature of our communication technologies disguised in their utopian promises of democratic expression. Egypt, in particular, has a notorious history of human rights abuses with the Human Rights Watch revealing an almost zero tolerance for any form of dissent (2014). What happens when the events of a revolution unfold online, when governments and ideologies change and people are potentially held accountable for past online activity? How can we begin to deal with the trauma of the past when it continues to haunt us in the future? The potential importance of the Speak2Tweet archive has yet to be determined. Whether or not the messages will be included in Egypt’s collective memory is dependent on individual efforts to preserve it. While the current discourse on historical narratives suggests a collective amnesia brought upon by cyberspace, it is clear that Egypt’s revolution has left large traces of memory from which many maps can be drawn. The resulting narratives are ultimately dependent on who controls access to archives such as Speak2Tweet as well as the interrelationship between political ideology and corporate control.

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