Some Thoughts on Gamergategate

It's still early in 2015, yet Wikipedia's volunteer community has already experienced one of its most traumatic events in recent memory. Not the most, mind you. Wikipedia is a fundamentally volatile place, as one might reasonably expect from a self-directed movement whose stated mission is to sort through all of the world's knowledge and present it for universal consumption.

In recent months, however, Wikipedians have stared down a kind of invading army the likes it hasn't seen in awhile—maybe ever.

Its name is Gamergate, and it too is an online movement of sorts: one that is either a roving band of anti-feminist thugs whose agitation started over a false story involving a sexual affair and a game review, or a broadly-engaged reformist coalition focused on ethically challenged video game journalists with some adherents prone to rhetorical excess. Readers will already know which side they take.((If you read any of the above and thought to yourself: Wait, isn't a gamergate a reproductively viable female worker ant?, my hat's off to you.))

I've struggled to write about this, because a proper accounting would require a blog post much longer than I am prepared to write or you are interested to read. Mid-procrastination, I was invited by Quartz to write a first-person column on another controversy, in which I couldn't avoid including some limited thoughts on what I'll now call "Gamergategate"((I will also accept "Gamergateghazi".)) but here I'd like to expand on it. Although the relevant Arbitration Committee case has now been closed for several weeks, allowing some time for perspective, I am finding it still difficult to summarize adequately.((The best I've seen, as usual, can be found in The Wikipedia Signpost.))

For the unitiated: late last year, Gamergate activists took their fight to Wikipedia, kicking off a massive edit war across several entries, including the all-important Gamergate controversy. The ensuing carnage involved several dozen Wikipedia stalwarts trying to prevent controversial and often unconstructive changes made by several dozen more((Maybe hundreds? An accurate count is likely an impossibility.)) Gamergate sympathizers, but also extended to personal attacks and much acrimony not strictly related to the substance of the debate.

Most of the Gamergate participants operated in guerrilla style, using just-created, easily disposed-of accounts, many of which were quickly blocked. But not all: unlike past battles between Wikipedians and antagonistic outside parties, there is some overlap between these two: Gamergate is primarily composed of video game enthusiasts, many of them technically-minded, something also true for no small number of longtime Wikipedians. If nothing else, they were a savvier opponent than, say, the #JusticeforBeyonce #BeyHive.

As if that wasn't enough, once Wikipedia's Arbitration Committee decided to get involved, a preview of their final decision spooked some editors for appearing to level sanctions against the "good" Wikipedians trying to hold back the barbarians at the gate. One observer, described by The Verge in late January as a "former editor", Mark Bernstein, sounded an alarm with four arrestingly titled blog posts—“Infamous”, "Careless”, "Thoughtless” and "Reckless”—picked up by a wide array of news outlets, claiming that Wikipedia was going to "ban feminist editors", thereby delivering Gamergate to ultimate victory.

It was an irresistible story. Here's a fairly representative headline from The Guardian: "Wikipedia votes to ban some editors from gender-related articles”. It was also wrong, or "too soon to say" at best. Bernstein's essays were overwrought and oversold—reckless, if you will. Journalists have a difficult time enough writing about Wikipedia accurately; this certainly didn't help. Yes, Bernstein identified some worthwhile questions about Wikipedia governance, but he also suggested it might "permanently discredit not only Wikipedia but the entire open Web". That's a bit much.

Bernstein wasn't completely out to lunch: eventually the committee did in fact come back with sanctions against "good" editors who overreacted to provocations. Several were "topic banned" meaning they are disallowed only from editing pages in this topic area; only one editor actually received a "site ban", effectively kicking him off Wikipedia for the foreseeable future.

Well aware of the outside scrutiny, the Arbitration Committee took the unusual step of issuing a press release of sorts, explaining their decision in terms that outsiders could follow. The non-profit Wikimedia Foundation, which always takes pains to stress that it has no role in policing the editorial community or the content it produces, also posted a comment to its blog. Both are recommended reading for the hyperventilating.

One really can't understand this decision without knowing that the Arbitration Committee as organized is only charged with enforcing matters related to editor behavior, not site content. Perhaps there should be a body focused on content... but that's an entirely different conversation. And it may well be that ArbCom members agreed with the Wikipedia editors who fought with Gamergate((I assume most or all do.)) but it did not mean they could ignore actual violations of site policy even by well-meaning editors.

On the other hand, critics have accurately pointed out that ArbCom spent little time with the matter of off-wiki coordination by Gamergate, much of which violated Wikipedia's rules and then some. As Bernstein correctly noted, "It’s much easier to pick out isolated misjudgments culled from hundreds of thousands of words of discussion by an army of anonymous trolls".

There's another very good reason why they didn't spend more time with this—and it's a problem that no one can solve, even if ArbCom could weigh in on who was "right".

To wit: the large majority of Gamergaters had little invested in Wikipedia outside of these topic areas, mostly using brand new accounts they did not mind having blocked when another one could be created within a matter of minutes. Longtime Wikipedians care a great deal about the project and have user accounts they have years invested in. This was asymmetrical warfare of the sort waged by stateless actors against major powers in the real world((I think I'm going to refrain from making specific analogies, sorry.)) and it worked here just as well as it has elsewhere.

The incident reminds me quite a bit of another traumatic episode in recent history: the battle over the article now called Chelsea Manning, previously known as Bradley Manning. To recap: after the convicted Private Manning announced her transgender status, the Wikipedia article very quickly converted over—and Wikipedia's community was prematurely lauded in the media for doing so—only for the page to be summarily changed back, and fall into a contentious battle along a kind of right vs. left divide arguably similar to the dynamic here. Then as now, an editor making the supposedly progressive argument made waves for writing an impassioned blog post in protest; in that incident, the author was subsequently banned by ArbCom for violating a behavior policy separate from the underlying controversy. In the end, the pro-Chelsea forces prevailed, and the controversy eventually quieted down. On this issue, at least, the matter has been resolved for now.

Back to Gamergate, the story isn't necessarily over. Have a look at the Gamergate controversy discussion page today and, while things seem to be somewhat more civil than before, you'll see the debate continues apace. Also active((On this very topic, no less.)) as of late February? Mark Bernstein. When your mission is to sort and present all the world's information, you always are.

Provenance of GamerGate images unknown; attribution available upon clarification. Bradley / Chelsea Manning juxtaposition by Associated Press.