In this second part of our genealogy, we move not forward in time, but look back to an encounter that took place between two foundational figures in logic and mathematics, in an attempt to identify the conflicting role of contradiction, misunderstanding, failure, and disagreement in the queer history of computation. While again these figures are well known, the encounter between them is often dismissed as a missed connection and a failed opportunity. As such, it is often relegated to an uninteresting footnote in the history of mathematics. By reengaging this encounter I hope to blur the lines between computing, philosophy, and mathematics, and to disrupt the narrative trajectory that would see Turing as the single foundational figure within this history.
In the spring of 1939, Ludwig Wittgenstein taught a course at the University of Cambridge on the foundations of mathematics, a topic that occupied much of his work from 1922 through to the end of the Second World War. That same semester Wittgenstein was finally elected chair of philosophy at the university, acquiring British citizenship soon thereafter. At fifty years old, he was an established figure in analytic philosophy, having published his groundbreaking Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus almost twenty years prior, and having written extensively on the work of Gödel, Russell, and Whitehead. While Wittgenstein is considered by many to be the most important philosopher of the 20th century, he published very little in his lifetime, and much of his thought and character can only be derived from what survives of his lectures, notes, and seminars. Still less is known of his sexuality, and until the 1980s it was a subject rarely discussed among colleagues or in the many biographies written about his life and work.[i] Even now that Wittgenstein's homosexuality has been largely acknowledged, most scholars are hesitant to imply a connection between his philosophy and his sexuality – that is, between his work and his inner state, emotions, or personality. If, however, in a contemporary light we understand queerness as a structuring mode of desiring, we might view Wittgenstein's thought not as emerging from his sexuality, but as structured by the way in which it shaped his mode of being in the world.
Wittgenstein with Francis Skinner in Cambridge ca. 1933
Wittgenstein is widely regarded to have fallen in love with three men; David Pinset[ii] in 1912, Francis Skinner in 1930, and Ben Richards in the late 1940s.[iii] While it is clear these were relationships of love and affection, the extent to which they were physical is often contested. What seems to make many Wittgenstein scholars uncomfortable in confronting his homosexuality is that it conflicts with the ascetic, almost priestly view of a man so revered by contemporary philosophy. As Bruce Duffy suggests in a 1988 New York Times article on the life of Wittgenstein, "In their effort to put forth a plain, unvarnished record of what Wittgenstein did and said, some of these memoirs have almost the feeling of gospels – hushed, reverential, proprietary."[iv] The philosopher – or indeed, the mathematician – as a carnal, sexual being produces a seemingly irresolvable contradiction. Even those accounts that do concede his affection for other men often suggest that those feelings were purely aesthetic or emotional, and were never acted upon. That said, in perhaps the most controversial section of his 1973 biography of Wittgenstein, W. W. Bartley suggests that the philosopher frequently engaged in a kind of anonymous cross-class sexual contact facilitated by public cruising spaces such as parks and high streets.
By walking for ten minutes to the east . . . he could quickly reach the parkland meadows of the Prater, where rough young men were ready to cater to him sexually. Once he had discovered this place, Wittgenstein found to his horror that he could scarcely keep away from it . . . Wittgenstein found he much preferred the sort of rough blunt homosexual youth that he could find strolling in the paths and alleys of the Prater to those ostensibly more refined young men who frequented the Sirk Ecke in the Kärntnerstrasse and the neighboring bars at the edge of the inner city.[v]
These kinds of exceptional spaces as sites for anonymous sexual encounters continue well into the 20th century, and are instrumental in the structure of being and interaction that the author Samuel Delany identifies as contact:
[C]ontact is also the intercourse—physical and conversational—that blooms in and as “casual sex” in public rest rooms, sex movies, public parks, singles bars, and sex clubs, on street corners with heavy hustling traffic, and in the adjoining motels or the apartments of one or another participant, from which nonsexual friendships and/or acquaintances lasting for decades or a lifetime may spring . . . a relation that, a decade later, has devolved into a smile or a nod, even when (to quote Swinburne) 'You have forgotten my kisses, / And I have forgotten your name.'[vi]
Bartley's sources have been called into question by many historians, but it is less the detail of his description than the acknowledgement of an embodied sexuality that is significant to this history; it is the difficulty we often have in finding the sexual in the everyday, in the lived work of a person beyond these exceptional moments of contact. While such effects may be invisible or to a degree, unknowable, that does not mean they aren't real and do not have a direct effect on the world.
The Prater park in Vienna
In the Tractatus, Wittgenstein defines truth as a tautology, that is, a result achieved through the mere repetition of the same meaning. While he insists that there exist religious or ethical truths, he argues that they cannot be put into words, that they are unknowable through language, and that claims to express ethical truths through philosophy must fail. Wittgenstein summarizes the Tractatus with the maxim: “What can be said at all can be said clearly; and what we cannot talk about we must pass over in silence.”[vii] What does it mean that for Wittgenstein truth is something that can be known but not discussed, that is indescribable? And how does he apply this critique to truths we understand to be beyond language – the truth of the body, or the truth of mathematics?
Back at Cambridge in 1939, another young scholar and philosopher was also beginning his research at the university. After two years working under Alonso Church at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey, Alan Turing took up a position as an untenured research fellow at Cambridge, having failed to acquire a full lectureship. Turing and Wittgenstein had been introduced the summer of 1937, but it was not until two years later in 1939 that they would have any meaningful interaction. That spring Turing was also teaching a course on the foundations of mathematics that shared the same name as Wittgenstein's lecture.[viii] Perhaps intrigued, Turing enrolled. Over the course of the semester, Turing engaged in a lengthy dialogue with Wittgenstein, challenging and outright refusing much of Wittgenstein's thoughts on logic and mathematics.[ix] Despite their disagreement, this seems a pivotal moment in the history of computing, in which two queer figures engage with the limits of knowledge and computability, questioning that which exists outside of or beyond.
As a young man, Wittgenstein had thought logic could provide a solid foundation for a philosophy of mathematics. Now in his fifties, he denied outright there were any mathematical facts to be discovered. For Wittgenstein, a proof in mathematics does not establish the truth of a conclusion, but rather fixes the meaning of certain signs. That is, the "inexorability" of mathematics does not consist of certain knowledge of mathematical truths, but in the fact that mathematical propositions are grammatical, a kind of language game through which meaning becomes fixed. One the first day of class, Wittgenstein begins by stating, "I shall try and try again to show that what is called a mathematical discovery had much better be called a mathematical invention."[x]
The Erkenntnis from the Königsberg Congress of 1930
Throughout the semester, Wittgenstein attempts to demonstrate that, if we may identify a single contradiction within a system such as mathematics, it ceases to function and loses all meaning. In one particularly memorable exchange, Wittgenstein puts forth one of his favorite contradictions – known as Epimenides' paradox, or the liar's paradox – in which I make the claim "I am lying," thereby creating a paradox in which if I am lying I am telling the truth, and if I am not lying I am telling a lie. Such an example may seem like nothing more than a silly logic puzzle, but it is significant that they produce a paradox that cannot be made meaningful to mathematics, and that these contradictions exist outside of any functional or productive applications. This, of course, is an affront to the very practice of mathematical logic. As Andrew Hodges notes, "Getting statements free from contradictions is the very essence of mathematics. Turing perhaps thought Wittgenstein did not take seriously enough the unobvious and difficult questions that had arisen in the attempt to formalize mathematics; Wittgenstein thought Turing did not take seriously the question of why one should want to formalize mathematics at all."[xi]
Wittgenstein uses Turing as a straw man of sorts, tasked with defending the philosophical validity of mathematics as a whole. Over the course of the two-term seminar, one can't help but get the sense that the two men are speaking past one another; that their concerns and interests diverge on a fundamental level. On the whole, Turing argues for a rather conservative approach to mathematics and its use in material applications. Surely, Turing argues, mathematics must be more than language games, as it enables us to build bridges that do not fall down, and to calculate with great precision measurable truths in the world. Yet despite his philosophical refusal, Turing's own work and research during the three years prior to the lectures touches on many of the same themes Wittgenstein was pursuing in his lectures, and addresses those invisible or unknowable truths that escape mathematical calculation through computation. While the two are clearly are at odds over their importance, both are nonetheless explicitly preoccupied with these externalities, these meaningless contradictions.
Turing's most famous work on this subject is On Computable Numbers, published in 1936, in which he establishes the definition of computable numbers as "the real numbers whose expressions as a decimal are calculable by finite means," stating that "a number is computable if its decimal can be written down by a machine." Turing expands his thesis, proving that his formalism was sufficiently general to encompass anything that a human being could do when carrying out a definite method. Importantly, Turing also established in this work the limits of computation, identifying the existence of uncomputable problems that cannot be solved through a definite method.[xii] The most famous such problem is the halting problem, in which an algorithm is built to calculate whether a given program will halt and produce a solution, or run forever. If such a program were to exist, we might in turn apply it back onto itself, asking it to find if it will ever halt, and in doing so creating a paradox not dissimilar to that of the liar.
More interesting to this project, however, is a supplementary paper published in 1939, titled Systems of Logic Based on Ordinals, in which Turing asks if it is possible to formalize those actions of the mind that do not follow a definite method — mental actions we might call creative or original in nature. There exist certain sets of uncomputable problems which are functionally solvable by human means, but for which there is no definite method for calculating an answer. Here Turing suggests the impossibility of accounting for this intuitive action through computation, stating:
Mathematical reasoning may be regarded rather schematically as the combination of two faculties, which we may call intuition and ingenuity. The activity of the intuition consists in making spontaneous judgments which are not the result of conscious trains of reasoning.[xiii]
It is unclear how such intuition functions, or how to understand and successfully implement it, but Turing's biographer Andrew Hodges suggests that "the evidence is that at this time [Turing] was open to the idea that in moments of 'intuition' the mind appears to do something outside the scope of the Turing machine." That is, outside of computation as Turing has defined it.[xiv]
How then to bring together these two moments of the founding and formalization of computing? In one we have the refusal of the truth mathematics would hope to claim and an investigation of those contradictions that exist within, but are beyond the scope of logical inquiry. In the other there is an investigation of those exceptional sites and the suggestion that there is a process that exists beyond computation that nonetheless allows us to make truthful claims about the world. Two views on the same problem, and a seemingly impassible philosophical divide.
For most historians of mathematics and technology, this encounter is viewed as a failure of recognition, and of the inability of Turing and Wittgenstein to reach across and make contact with one another on these fundamental questions. Much as it is unclear what one may have known about the other's sexuality, or if such similarities were even legible as a form of community or even commonality, there seems here to be a misrecognition, a failure to connect. And yet I would like to suggest that this is precisely the point, that this is precisely what makes this a queer encounter. It is the impossibility of narrativizing this encounter in legible terms, and the way in which this impossibility mirrors the indescribable, external truths that so preoccupied the minds of both men, that unites them. It is in these exceptional spaces outside of formally describable systems – binary code, language, mathematics – that we may identify a queerness at work.
In choosing this, perhaps the earliest moment at which such an inquiry is made possible, it seems meaningful that such questions are being posed by two queer men who met only briefly and, perhaps appropriately, were unable to come to an agreement, or to even understand the questions the other sought to answer. And yet each man's work seeks to investigate the limits of a particular system of knowledge that functions by delimiting the analog world through the construction of a hermetic system; one that rejects those externalities that might otherwise cause it to fail. If we consider queerness simply in terms of sexual preference or as an alternative formation within an established set of desiring modes, then describing any form of computing as "queer" may seem absurd. If instead we understand queerness as a process of self-shattering rather than self-fashioning, then we begin to align it with these exceptional objects and practices that exist beyond the limits of a system such as computation. While it is no doubt true that queerness is not the only means by which we might ask these questions of technology, or through which we might seek an alternative to the universalizing structures of computing technology, it is my suggestion that is an ideal lens through which to examine that which exists outside or beyond, and one that begins here in these earliest moments in the history of computation.
Next segment: Part 3
[i] W. W. Bartley III's Wittgenstein (1973) devotes 4-5 pages to the philosopher's sexuality, based on interviews conducted in the 1960s and translations of Wittgenstein's own encrypted journals – many of which were destroyed at his own insistence in 1950, a year before his death. Based on these passages the book was attacked vehemently and repeatedly by Wittgenstein's family and colleagues, in the pages of the New York Times Literary Supplement, and at the annual Wittgenstein Congress at the Wittgenstein Documentation Center in Kirchberg am Wechsel, Austria. The book was called sensationalist and false despite the availability of multiple documents corroborating Wittgenstein conflicted feeling towards his sexuality.
[ii] David Hume Pinset was a descendent of the philosopher David Hume, and was a friend and colleague to Wittgenstein, collaborating on research and traveling on holidays with him to Iceland and Norway. In 1918 Pinset was killed in a military flying accident, and Wittgenstein would later dedicate his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922) to his memory.
[iii] Monk, Ray. Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius. Free Press, 1990, pp. 583–586.
[iv] Duffy, Bruce. "The Do-it-Yourself Life of Ludwig Wittgenstein" The New York Times November 13, 1988. <http://www.nytimes.com/1988/11/13/books/the-do-it-yourself-life-of-ludwig-wittgenstein.html?pagewanted=all&src=pm>.
[v] Bartley: Wittgenstein, p. 47.
[vi] Delany, Samuel. Times Square Red Times Square Blue. New York: NYU Press, 2001 p. 123-124.
[vii] Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. New York: Routledge, 1921-2001, p. 3.
[viii] Diamond, Cora (ed.) Wittgenstein's Lectures on the Foundations of Mathematics: Cambridge, 1939 Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1976.
[ix] These encounters have been collected and recorded based on the notes of four students who attended the lecture, and were subsequently edited and published. As such they form an imperfect, but essential archive.
[x] Diamond, Ibid. 416.
[xi] Hodges, Andrew. "Alan Turing: One of the Great Philosophers" Web. <http://www.turing.org.uk/philosophy/ex4.html>.
[xii] Turing's work on uncomputability does not emerge from nowhere. It is informed by several decades of debate in the early history of mathematics – what is often referred to as the foundational crisis of mathematics, or Grundlagenkrise der Mathematik – over the question of whether mathematics had any foundation that could be stated within mathematics itself without suffering from irresolvable paradoxes. This led to competing schools of thought, the most important of which was Hilbert's program, named after the German mathematician David Hilbert. The program proposed to ground all existing theories to a finite, complete set of axioms, and provide a proof that these axioms were consistent. However, in 1931 Kurt Gödel's incompleteness theorems showed that any consistent system with a computable set of axioms which is capable of expressing arithmetic can never be complete, that it is possible to prove a statement to be true that cannot be derived from the formal rules of the system. Turing would take Gödel's work further, applying this theorem to the concept of computability, defined as that which can be stated within a formal system and may therefore be executed by a machine with a procedural grasp of computational logic.
[xiii] This train of thought belongs to a field in the philosophy of mathematics known as "intuitionism."
[xiv] To be clear, these externalities and paradoxes are not simply language games, but can be applied to real world problems as well. One famous example is that of Zeno's paradoxes, formulated by the Greek philosopher Zeno of Elea (ca. 490-430 BCE). In Zeno's dichotomy paradox, he states that "locomotion must arrive at the half-way stage before it arrives at the goal" (Aristotle, Physics VI:9, 239b10). In other words, if any possible finite distance may be divided in half, then in order to reach a given goal, a moving object must first get halfway there. Before it can get halfway there, it must get a quarter of the way there, before traveling a quarter it must travel one-eighth, and so on. The resulting solution requires the object to complete an infinite number of tasks, which Zeno maintains is an impossibility – yet clearly in the observable world objects move from location to location and arrive at their destination despite this contradiction. The same limits exist for computation, and have led to a hypothetical computational models that allow for a countably infinite number of algorithmic steps to be completed in finite time. The resulting hypothetical computer is often referred to as a Zeno machine, and is an example of a super-Turing machine – that is, a computer that functions beyond universal Turing computation. It is interesting to note that Zeno, like many Greek men, participated in homosexual erastes-eromenos mentor relationships, and was loved and mentored by Parmenides of Elea, the founder of the Eleatic school of philosophy.
This is the first post in a series on the queer history of computing, as traced through the lives of five foundational figures. It is both an attempt to make visible those parts of a history that are often neglected, erased, or forgotten, and an effort to question the assumption that the technical and the sexual are so easily divided.
Alan Turing, Letter to Dr. N. A. Routledge, AMT/D/14A Turing Archive
There are many ways of telling the history of universal computation, and many origins of the technologies we now consider computational machines. A longer history might begin with Gottfried Leibnitz and Isaac Newton's simultaneous development of modern calculus and the dream of a universal artificial mathematical language. Alternately, we might look to the history of calculating machines, beginning with Charles Babbage's Difference Engine or Herman Hollerith's Electric Sorting and Tabulating Machine.
Most every history would certainly include the contributions of Alan Turing, an English mathematician who is considered by many to be the father of computer science. In his relatively short career Turing formalized such concepts as "algorithm" and "computation," he helped crack the Nazi Enigma Machine during the Second World War, was a pioneer in the field of artificial intelligence, and developed early research on such concepts as neural nets, morphogenesis, and mathematical biology. Turing was also an openly gay man who, in January of 1952 was convicted of Gross Indecency by the British government under the 1885 Labouchere Amendment, made to undergo chemical castration, and ultimately committed suicide in June of 1954.[i] The subject of numerous books, films, and works of art, Turing is perhaps the most widely recognized computer scientist in the field's short history. He is also the most recognizable queer figure in this history. As such, it is necessary to begin with Turing, not simply for the visibility of his difference, but for the fundamental role he played in defining the limits of computation, and the possibility to look beyond those limits in identifying a queer history of computing.
Homosexuality was by no means unheard of in England at the start of the 20th century, and by some accounts it seems to have been common practice among many college-aged students in elite universities such as Cambridge, which did not admit women until 1948.[ii] Still, homosexual activity had been explicitly illegal since the end of the 19th century, when it was famously used in a pair of legal cases against Oscar Wilde beginning in 1885, leading to his imprisonment and eventual exile in 1897.[iii] Given this legal status, what is most striking about Turing is how open he was with his sexuality, which seems to have been common knowledge among friends and colleagues. As Elizabeth Wilson notes in Affect and Artificial Intelligence, Turing's relationship to his sexuality seems to be less one of repression and shame, and more a kind of naïve amusement. If this attitude was not shared by others at the time, it was at the very least tolerated among Turing's friends and associates.
Donald Michie, one of Turing's wartime colleagues at Bletchley Park,[iv] recalls that "Bletchley had some flamboyant homosexuals,"[v] and that, despite the assumption that homosexuality would be considered a national security risk due to blackmail and other threats, it does not seem to have impeded Turing's work for the government, at least not during the war. For many in those days, homosexuality was an open secret, if it was kept secret at all.”[vi] But while Turing's sexuality is not in dispute, the effect it may have had on his life and work is much more speculative.
Alan Turing and Christopher Morcom, 1928
Turing's earliest and strongest romantic interest was with a young man he met at school named Christopher Morcom.[vii] Morcom, like Turing, was an aspiring scientist and mathematician, and Turing viewed him as both a peer and an inspiration, and as someone with whom he might share a budding enthusiasm for the technical world. While any romantic feelings Turing may have felt appear to have been unrequited, the two developed a powerful friendship. On February 7, 1930, two years after meeting Turing at University, Morcom fell ill with bovine tuberculosis, and passed away six days later on Feb 13. On the night of February 7, Turing recalls having a premonition of Morcom's death, at the very instant that he was taken ill and felt that this was something beyond what science could explain.[viii]
The death of Morcom would have a profound effect on Turing, particularly in shaping his views on religion, mortality, and the materiality of the soul. Turing had been a harsh critic of determinism, and with the death of Morcom he hoped to find a way to account for concepts such as free will and the spirit in a grounded, material way. It is this philosophical disjuncture that would lead Turing to theorize the limits of procedural knowledge, a concept that is central to his definition of computation in On Computable Numbers. To suggest that it was his unrequited love for a young man that inspired Turing to engage the questions that would establish a definition of computation would be facile, but to ignore the significance of these details parses what is technologically significant in such a way so as to exclude the personal, the emotional, and the sexual.
Surprisingly, there are few serious treatments of Turing as a queer figure,[ix] perhaps due to the difficulty in applying anachronistic language to historical figures such as Turing, or because in many ways Turing's work does not immediately lend itself to a radical queering. While we might argue that computers have come to play an important role in the formation, organization, and articulation of modern queer identity, this may have less to do with some aspect of computation that is inherently queer, and more to do with the broad indifference of these technologies toward such distinctions and the ease with which they facilitate contact and produce community.
Still, it is significant that one of the foundational figures in the modern history of computing was an openly gay man. We know more about the details of Turing's private life than any other figure in this history, due no doubt to his exceptional significance as both a scientist and a homosexual, categories that we cannot easily separate.
Turing's biography is no doubt familiar to many, particularly in the year following innumerable events celebrating the centenary of his birth, and a very public campaign for a posthumous apology for Turing's treatment by the British government following his arrest. Perhaps less familiar, though, is the genealogy of influence that radiates out from Turing, and which includes several foundational figures in the history of computing, all of whom were queer men.[x] These men were friends and acquaintances, mentors and colleagues, each driven by a passion for mathematics and the emerging field of computer science. As I will show, it is unclear what knowledge, if any, each had of the other's sexuality, or what effect such knowledge may have had on their relationships both professional and personal. Nonetheless, it is significant that such a connection exists, and in this connection lies the beginnings of a speculative history of queer computing, beginning at the very origins of computation itself.
Still, this connection is in part a fabrication, an attempt to make narrative that which largely escapes history. For most historians of technology, questions of sexuality are irrelevant to the technical achievements of an individual, and while queer historical work exists for significant literary and cultural figures, very little work has been done on queer figures in the history of technology. This may be due to the guarded lives these men led, and an almost total lack of personal biographical information available in existing historical accounts. Even the archives of these figures are in many cases lacking, as material relevant to the personal lives of these men is often excluded or withheld.
This division between the personal and technical is significant, and with few exceptions these men seem to have internalized this distinction, living lives that moved between worlds both public and private. These men lived in times radically different than our own, times in which the contexts and dispositions surrounding homosexuality were undergoing dramatic transformation. Just as computers evolve over the course of the twentieth century from simple tabulating machines to complex, interactive, expressive systems, homosexuality is also transformed and recoded, burdened with visibility and identity.
What then is the significance of the sexuality of these men? Why should we insist that they be remembered not only for their technical achievements, but as part of a broader queer genealogy? In part we may hope that, by incorporating them into the history of queer struggles for recognition and visibility, we recuperate and validate a part of their lives that was deliberately hidden. As historian Heather Love suggests, "by including queer figures from the past in a positive genealogy of gay identity, we make good on their suffering, transforming their shame into pride after the fact."[xi] Yet in doing so, Love argues, we erase the negative dimension that profoundly affects queer historical subjects. Theirs is not necessarily a history of pride and redemption; often it is a history of shame and even death. Rather than ignore this contradiction, my hope is to foreground it. It is in the disjunction between the professional and personal lives of these men, in the apparent incompatibility of sexuality and computation that I hope to develop a queer capacity within the history of computing.
Over the coming weeks I will be constructing a queer history as told through the figures of five men, each of whom is connected by a thread that runs from the early philosophy of mathematics, through the foundation of the Gay Liberation Front, and to contemporary debates over the life and legacy of Alan Turing. However the goal of this project is not biographical; it is not my hope to simply identify existing queer figures in the history of computing as an inclusive gesture, as a way of queering history by simply demonstrating that, as in all parts of life, queer people were there. Instead I hope to suggest that queerness is itself inherent within computational logic, and that this queerness becomes visible when we investigate those cleavages that partition the lives of these men into distinct technical and sexual spheres of existence. Ultimately I hope to show that there exists a structuring logic to computational systems that, while nearly totalizing, does not account for all forms of knowledge, and which excludes certain acts, behaviors, and modes of being. By situating this work historically, we can address computation from those early moments of experimentation and emergence before the field crystallizes into a discipline and an ideology. In doing so we discover a kind of liminal technical space of something not yet actualized. Finally it is my hope that through this history we can disturb the archive and begin to draw new connections between the personal and the technical. While it may not be possible to argue that the queerness of these men and of this history is what shapes present day computing technology, in establishing an existing queer history of computing we might critique the tendency to rend the one from the other.
Next segment: Part 2
[i] This is not to suggest that Turing's conviction was directly responsible for his suicide. In fact it is not entirely clear that his death was a suicide at all. While the hormone treatments he was made to undergo may seem horrific, Turing seemed to take a lighthearted approach to his predicament. While his death by cyanide poisoning – presumably from an apple found on his bedside table – was ruled a suicide, his mother insisted it was a simple mishandling of laboratory chemicals.
[ii] The homosocial environment of British University life is documented in numerous fictional texts of the time, several of which were written by authors of the Bloomsbury group such as E. M. Forster and Lytton Strachey. Perhaps most notable among these is E. M. Forster's Maurice, a love story of two men written between 1912-13 but published posthumously in 1971. Other more contemporary examples include Julian Mitchell's play Another Country (1983), later adapted into a feature length film (1984).
[iii] Sex between men had been illegal in England since as early as the Buggery Act of 1533, but the Labouchere Amendment made all forms of homosexual contact between men a punishable offense.
[iv] Bletchley Park was the estate that housed the National Codes Centre during World War II, and was the site at which the British broke the Nazi Enigma Code with the help of Turing.
[v] He continues, "The most flamboyant case was Angus Wilson – he later became a very successful novelist – and he had a boyfriend called Beverly. Angus was about that high [indicating small] with flowing yellow hair (l remember it went white later) and Beverly (I forget his second name) was very 'weed-like': very tall. They could be seen shambling along the horizon, a daily sight, as they look their walk around lawns alter lunch." Quoted in: Lee, John A. N. and Golde Holtzman, "50 Years After Breaking the Codes: interviews with Two of the Bletchley Park Scientists" IEEE Annals of the History of Computing, Spring 1995, Vol. 17 No. 1, p. 38.
[vi] It seems important to note that, as with much of British society at the time, there is a very particular class dynamic at work here, in which the upper class is often given more leeway with the law and among their peers. Of course this kind of homosexual behavior was not particular to the upper classes, and in fact homosexuality often facilitated a form of cross-class sexual contact.
[vii] Hodges, Andrew. Alan Turing: The Enigma. London: Random House Publishing (1992) p. 35.
[viii] Hodges. Ibid. p. 45.
[ix] This is not to suggest that Turing's sexuality is not widely acknowledged and discussed. Andrew Hodges – Turing's biographer, archivist, and a renowned mathematician himself – deals with Turing's sexuality explicitly in his writing, going so far as to speculate on the ways in which it may have motivated his personal and professional life. Elizabeth Wilson also deals with Turing's queerness in Affect and Artificial Intelligence (2010), though it is through the lens of affect theory and in regards to Turing's contributions to the field of AI. Turing is dealt with most explicitly as a queer subject in Jeremy Douglass' Machine Writing and the Turing Test which explores the implications of the Turing test in terms of gender "passing."
[x] Many queer women also make up the history of computing, though they are not connected directly to Turing through this particular genealogy. Lynn Conway is one such figure, who was an early pioneer in the American computing industry, studying at MIT in the 1950s and working for IBM in the 1960s. She would go on to make fundamental contributions to the revolution in Very Large Scale Integration (VLSI) design in the 1980s, and in 1999 would become an activist for transgender rights and visibility.
[xi] Love, Heather. Feeling Backward: Loss and the Politics of Queer History. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press (2009) p. 32.
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Aquí algunas joyitas escogidas que giran en torno a mapeos y rutas, y como resignificarlas en diversas dimensiones: espaciales, corporales, emocionales o geográficas.
Satellite fishing // Pescando Satélites
Taller para aprender a buscar satélites,/identificar sus frecuencias y escuchar las señales que emiten.
Keywords: satellites, invisible technologies, rutas espaciales
Cafeta de la Muerte
para que la muerte deje de ser tabú
Keywords: death, life, discussion, cake, mapeo de la ausencia, rutas del duelo
OpenStreetMap Mapping Party
Como aprender a crear tus propios mapas y datos geolocalizables para desmontar desde abajo el gran hermano google maps.
Keywords OpenStreetMap, mapping, walking, participation,
free/open source, geographical data, resignificación geográfica
Editors: Shaowen Bardzell, Lilly Nguyen, Sophie Toupin
There has been a recent growth in interest in feminist approaches to
practices like hacking, tinkering, geeking and making. What started off
as an interest in furthering representations of women in the technical
fields of computer science and engineering, often along the lines of
liberal feminism, has now grown into social, cultural, and political
analyses of gendered modes of social reproduction, expertise, and work,
among others. Practices of hacking, tinkering, geeking, and making have
been criticized for their overtly masculinist approaches, often anchored
in the Euro-American techno-centers of Silicon Valley and Cambridge that
have created a culture of entrepreneurial heroism and a certain
understanding of technopolitical liberation, or around the German Chaos
Computer Club (CCC).
With this special issue of the Journal of Peer Production, we hope to
delve more deeply into these critiques to imagine new forms of feminist
technical praxis that redefine these practices and/or open up new ones.
How can we problematize hacking, tinkering, geeking and making through
feminist theories and epistemologies? How do these practices, in fact,
change when we begin to consider them through a feminist prism? Can we
envision new horizons of practice and possibility through a feminist
In this call, we understand feminist perspectives to be pluralistic,
including intersectional, trans, genderqueer, and race-sensitive
viewpoints that are committed to the central principles of
feminism--agency, fulfillment, empowerment, diversity, and social
justice. We refer to the term hacking with a full understanding of its
histories and limitations. That said, we use it provisionally to
provoke, stimulate, and reimagine new possibilities for technical
feminist practice. Hacking, as a form of subjectivity and a mode of
techno-political engagement, has recently emerged as a site of intense
debate, being equally lauded as a political ethos of freedom and
slandered as an elitist form of expertise. These fervid economic and
political ideals have been challenged and at times come under attack
because they not only displace women and genderqueer within these
technological communities but, more importantly, because they displace
gendered forms of reflection and engagement.
Drawing on a growing community of feminist scholarship and practices, we
hope to build on this momentum to invite submissions that
reconceptualize the relationship between feminism and hacking. We aim to
highlight feminist hackers, makers and geeks not only as new communities
of experts, but as new modes of engagement and novel theoretical
developments. In turn, with this special issue, we hope to challenge
both concepts of feminism and hacking to ask several questions. How can
feminist approaches to hacking open up new possibilities for
technopolitics? Historically, hacking discourses center on political and
labor aesthetics of creation, disruption, and transgression. How can
feminist theories of political economy push technopolitical imaginaries
towards alternate ideals of reproduction, care, and maintenance?
Conversely, we also ask how notions of hacking can open up new
possibilities for feminist epistemologies and modes of engagement?
We seek scholarly articles and commentaries that address any of the
following themes and beyond. We are also interested in portraits,
understood broadly, of feminist hackers, makers and geeks that help us
better understand feminist hacker, maker and geek culture. We also
solicit experimental formats such as photo essays or other media that
address the special issue themes.
• What is distinctive about feminist hacking or hackers? How
does feminist hacking practices help create a distinct feminist hacking
• Why are feminist hacking practices emerging? Which
constellation of factors help the emergence of such practices?
• What do we know about the feminist hacker spectrum? i.e. what
are the differences among feminist hacking practices and how can we make
sense of these distinctions?
• What tensions in hacking and/or in hacker practices and
culture(s) come to the fore when feminist, anti-patriarchal,
anti-racist, anti-capitalist and/or anti-oppression perspectives are taken?
• What does feminist hacker ethic(s) entail?
• What kind of social imaginaries are emerging with feminist
hacking and hackers?
• What kinds of hacking are taking place beyond the Euro-American
Submission abstracts of 300-500 words due by September 8, 2014, and
should be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.
All peer reviewed papers will be reviewed according to Journal of Peer
Production guidelines; see http://peerproduction.net/peer-review/process/.
Full papers and materials (peer reviewed papers around 8,000 words and
testimonies, self-portraits and experimental formats up to 4,000 words)
are due by January 31st, 2015 for review.
Se siente limitado por su proveedor de Internet? Esta cansado por la obsolescencia planificada en sus equipos electrónicos? Preocupada por las disposiciones legales que tratan de censurar Internet? Enfadada por la comercialización de sus datos personales? Si estas preguntas le hablan, entonces este dossier le es dirigido. Si estas preguntas aun le parecen triviales o incluso innecesarias, este dossier le resultará definitivamente útil para entender mejor la cuestiones éticas y la calidad de las tecnologías que utiliza.
Esta revista presenta otras formas de desarrollar, utilizar y volver sostenibles nuestras herramientas de información, comunicación y expresión. Todas las contribuciones han sido desarrolladas por personas que actúan en primera linea del desarrollo de la soberanía tecnológica: Patrice Riemens, Richard Matthew Stallman, Benjamin Cadon, Elleflâne, Tatiana de la O, Karlessi, Ippolita, Marcell Mars, Hellekin, Julie Gommes, Jorge Timon, Marta G. Franco, Spideralex, Maxigas, Ursula Gastfall, Thomas Fourmond et Paula Pin.
Por lo tanto, este trabajo solo ha sido posible gracias a las contribuciones de estos hacktivistas, desarrolladores de software libre, transhackfeministas, artistashackers, inventores de lo cotidiano, amantes de las tecnologías apropiadas e investigadores activistas. Cada contribución se ha centrado en analizar las fortalezas y debilidades de sus campos de acción para proporcionar vías para que los usuarios de las TIC dejen de ser simples consumidores pasivos y se conviertan también en actores de su desarrollo.
En la primera parte, el concepto de soberanía tecnológica, y sus requisitos previos (software libre, la neutralidad de Internet, hardware libre, servidores autónomos) son explicitados. A continuación, se destacan varias iniciativas tecnológicas innovadoras (motores de investigación alternativa bibliotecas públicas digitales, redes sociales descentralizadas, tecnologías anticensura, criptomonedas e incluso la exploración del espacio). Por último, los lugares para que pueden surgir estas alternativas, es decir, los Hacklabs, FabLabs y Biolabs son presentados. Te invitamos a apoyar la difusión de esta revista electrónica. Todo el contenido y las imágenes están disponibles bajo licencia BY -- SA.
El dossier en castellano se puede descargar aquí : http://www.plateforme-echange.org/spip.php?article104
El dossier en francés esta disponible aquí : http://www.plateforme-echange.org/spip.php?article102
Image credit: Alatriel Elensar
Two and a half years ago, the LEGO Corporation made a move that set into motion a chain of events that has led, circuitously but unambiguously, to the following exciting announcement, released yesterday via YouTube: In late summer or early fall of 2014, the company will release to the public an official set of female scientist minifigures – a paleontologist, an astronomer and a chemist. Watch the announcement at the video below:
If the news sounds humdrum, believe me when I say it is not! In fact, one wonders what discussions must have sounded like behind closed doors in Billund, Denmark between the 2012 release of the immediately controversial LEGO Friends line, the ensuing decision to release the first female lab scientist minifigure last September, and now this most recent development: an extremely rare all-female set made with regular LEGO minifigures, depicting scientists doing what scientists do (hopefully without too much pink).
When Friends went public on January 1, 2012, the company line seemed to be: We’ve done our research and product testing, thank you, so leave us be because we know what we’re doing. Of course, to the extent that Friends has been a financial success, they had a point. But they clearly hadn’t counted on many thousands of people taking to blogs and social media to present their concern that LEGO’s marketing of a new stereotype-laden girls’ line would do little to change the fact that the bulk of their products severely underrepresent females in sets depicting cerebral careers like those in the STEM fields, fantastical adventures and everyday life. For a company that outwardly promotes inclusivity and equality, it sure felt like it was going out of its way to do the exact opposite with its products, both within the Friends line and elsewhere.
Custom-built LEGO scientist minifigures by the author represent (clockwise from top left): astronaut Sandra Magnus, physicist Lisa Randall, primatologist Jane Goodall, astronomer Jill Tartar, oceanographer Sylvia Earle and planetary scientist Carolyn Porco.
In the months and years since then, legions of LEGO fans have spoken out, and it is clear that our messages have been heard. I’m proud to have made early calls suggesting LEGO-sanctioned females in STEM like those in my minifigure set of real-life scientists. I loved watching Anita Sarkeesian grill LEGO in her two-part video series on the company’s history of gender-based marketing. I and others compiled minifigure gender data and circulated colorful infographics. A year ago, Swedish geochemist Alatariel Elensar (a.k.a. Ellen Kooijman) challenged LEGO to produce a set of 13 empowering female minifigures via the CUUSOO fan-based design incubator site. If a design on this site gets enough upvotes from the community, LEGO will consider it for a limited edition set for public release. Meanwhile, rumors began to fly that a female scientist might appear in a future Collectible Minifigures set.
“Numerous sources suggest you will be releasing a scientist in Series 11 (gender as yet unspecified),” I wrote in an open letter to the company around this time last year. “For the love of the FSM, please do the right thing.”
They did, and on September 1, 2013, the company released the first-ever female lab scientist, a clear nod to calls for more female minifigures in regular LEGO offerings outside of the Friends world.
LEGO's first female lab scientist. (Photo credit: Maia Weinstock)
The pressure didn’t stop there. In February, a 7-year-old wrote an adorable message noting LEGO’s gender issues and asking the company to “make more lego girl people and let them go on adventures and have fun ok!?!” After this year’s popular The LEGO Movie drew criticism for including a very small minority of female characters, the director acknowledged the issue and seemed committed to addressing it in the sequel. And just recently, a clever elementary school photo project took LEGO to task for moving away from their earlier gender-neutral sets and suggested the company create more minifigures that better represent the true diversity of gender and culture.
Topping everything off, we now find that Elensar’s female scientist minifigure set will actually get made, after it received a flood of support from around the Internet. I’ll be honest here: I had been skeptical that the set would be chosen for production. So the fact that LEGO is giving boys and girls alike a positive new image of what women can do and be in the STEM fields—and beyond—speaks wonders to the company’s willingness to consider that they might have missed something critical in all of that pre-Friends product testing.
I’ve written before that media and toy companies have an enormous power to shape what children are socialized to accept as “normal,” especially when it comes to gender roles. And to be sure, LEGO still has a way to go: It’s a reality that their sets almost always contain more males than females, and they could definitely use more minifigs of color! But in taking this important step, I’m confident that everyone’s favorite brick company is beginning to address these issues head on. I can’t wait to see what the final scientist minifigure set will look like – and to buy one for every kid I know!
About the Author: Maia Weinstock is an editor and writer specializing in science and children's media. She is the Deputy Editor at MIT News, the news office of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and has previously worked at BrainPOP, Discover, SPACE.com, Aviation Week & Space Technology, and Science World. Maia is a strong advocate for girls and women, particularly in the areas of science, technology, politics, and athletics. She is an active member of Wikimedia New England and has led various efforts to increase the participation and visibility of women on Wikipedia. Maia also spearheads a number of media projects, including Scitweeps, a photo set depicting scientists and sci/tech popularizers in LEGO. She holds a degree in Human Biology from Brown University. Follow on Twitter @20tauri.
The views expressed are those of the author and are not necessarily those of Scientific American.
Ciberfeminism, hacktivism, open culture and free tech education
G.Hack is a collective of female researchers within the School of Electronic Engineering and Computer Science at Queen Mary University of London. The group is focused on sharing knowledge and developing interactive media projects. At Sónar+D they will present “Women Hackers”, a panel with inspirational women founders, leaders, researchers and advocates of cyberfeminism, hacktivism, open culture and free tech education.
Thursday 12 | Stage+D1 | 16.45 - 17.45
Panel consist of:
Nela Brown, Chair of G.Hack, doctoral student at Queen Mary University of London Cognitive Science Research group, award winning sound artist, musician, technologist and leader.
Alex Haché, member of Dones Tech a group of Social Research dedicated to creating digital content, media production and communication. Haché is doctor of economy, cyberfeminist, hacktivist, developer of technopolitical projects, researcher of ICT for public good.
Klau Kinki, part of pechblenda LAB, an experimental laboratory where learning arises from raw experimentation and the self-formation where free knowledge emerges.
Amélie Anglade, member of OpenTechSchool a movement aiming to offer free tech education. Co-founder of Hackership, a full-time 3-month hacker school programme located in Berlin and based on the values of OpenTechSchool. Her work focuses on supporting hackers of all backgrounds to learn and grow, and also she does music information retrieval and recommendation for a living. She presents herself as a music hacker at heart.
Please take note this activity is offered in English only.