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Updated Jul. 14, 2017 2:56PM ET / Published Aug. 11, 2009 2:57AM ET
Which site hosts the Web’s filthiest porn, crudest pranks and most vigilant hackers? The Daily Beast’s Douglas Rushkoff goes inside the underground site Web giants can’t kill.
When AT&T recently blocked access to a hugely popular hackers' Web site, 4chan.org, many of us Internet old-timers froze in place. It was like one of those bad Westerns, when an arrogant newcomer sits down in the saloon, and then insults the baddest, most trigger-happy gunslinger in the county. People move to the side of the room, climb under tables, and wait for the shots to fly.
The 4Chan community—a diehard, if ever-changing assortment of the Net's most-desperate, most-anonymous, and most-wanted, well, punks—smelled censorship, top-down control, and an evil corporation trying to keep down the world's last squat for hackers. They went batshit. The site's founder posted a note telling his minion's to write and complain to AT&T, and the dog whistle having been heard, a posse called "Project AT&T," quickly formed, dedicated to revenge.
As I perused the porn, I got the overwhelming sense that I had landed in the Internet's equivalent of the parking lot behind a 7-Eleven.
It turns out AT&T was really just trying to protect the site, and its own servers, from a typical "denial of service" attack. (Hackers create a feedback loop of pings and requests that overloads the target Web site.) AT&T’s solution—to move 4Chan to a new IP address—was crude but ultimately effective. Project AT&T called a temporary truce, the bar piano started playing again, and the world went back to normal.
But the whole episode reminded me that, in spite of the Web's seemingly secure and consumer-friendly facade, there is still some Wild West left out there. And 4Chan is the OK Corral. So like a middle-aged Australian businessman going on walkabout, I decided to spend a couple of weeks embedded in this famously depraved, raucously fertile community.
On the surface, 4Chan is an online bulletin board for people to post images and make comments. There are different channels for different interests, from anime and automobiles to papercraft and, of course, porn. Launched in 2003 by a then-15-year-old kid called "moot," 4Chan was meant as an American answer to popular image and message boards for anime fans in Japan. A lack of a registration system gave its 4Chan users the anonymity they needed to post whatever they wanted, with impunity. That's at least part of the reason why 4Chan grew to be the 684th most popular site on the Web (this quarter), and has made it to the top 100 during peaks. The other reason, like the back room at a gay bar, is the "random" board, otherwise known as “/b/”.
Back in the day—like, last year and before—the 4Chan’s “/b/rothers”, as they call themselves, got famous for their hacking, and also inventing and spreading some of the Net's most loved and hated visual memes, including Lolcats (those pictures of cats engaging in human activities with clever captions) and Rickrolling (a user clicks on a link they hope is bringing them to some controversial footage, like Michelle Obama saying "whitey," but actually goes to a music video for 1987 Rick Astley song "Never Gonna Give You Up"). Project Chanology was a full frontal assault on Scientology, after the church successfully removed a Tom Cruise video from YouTube. Users of 4Chan successfully disseminated the video throughout the Internet, while attacking and shutting down Scientology's servers. And 4Chan users can take credit for hacking Sarah Palin's Yahoo Mail account during the presidential election, and posting some of the contents.
In the three weeks I've trolled the site, I didn’t witness anything quite so dramatic—though I suppose the potential is there at any moment. It feels a bit like walking through a bad neighborhood—one where if you break some custom you're unaware of, you could get hurt. As I perused the porn, the 30-word manifestos against American hegemony (filled with misspellings), the flame wars between gamers about the superiority of one console over the other, I got the overwhelming sense that I had landed in the Internet's equivalent of the parking lot behind a 7-Eleven. Gamers, geeks, and losers who had nothing better to do than post stills from videogames with obnoxious or occasionally witty inside jokes.
But all along, as I took my notes, and considered asking some pointed questions, I actually started to wonder what might happen to the security of my own email account and Web site if I said the wrong thing, insulted the wrong /b/rother, or inflamed the wrong posse. And in that sense it felt like the old Internet again—the unpredictable, interactive, and highly anonymous medium through which anyone from anywhere could wage an attack. Here, the Justice Squad of Net vigilantes sits between battles, awaiting the next affront to digital anarchy. I decided to touch nothing, in the hope that nothing would touch me.
Then, just yesterday, I scrolled by something I had never seen in all my 20-some-odd years online: genuine child porn. Someone had posted the unmistakably clear image of two pubescent boys engaged in oral sex. Not fake Russian teenagers or young-looking models, but kids. It hit me harder and deeper than I thought it would. Not just the image, which set off its own chain of emotions in me as a parent, but the fact that this contraband was now in my cache, on my hard drive somewhere. I had visions of Pete Townsend getting carted off by the cops for "researching" child porn.
So I was infected, after all. Not just by an indecent, illegal image, but by indecency and illegality itself.
And, on a certain level, except for that disgusting child porn, it was a relief. Most of these posts are intended to prove something: that the Internet is still incapable of being completely controlled. It was as crude as AT&T simply unplugging 4Chan for messing up its servers, but almost equally powerful—at least to me, scrolling a Web site from the safety of my home at two in the morning.
There is still an "element" online willing to take the time, energy, and risk to piss on the virtual street, spray paint on a virtual building, or gang up on a real person or institute they consider a threat. You may not want to engage with this element directly, or even indirectly. But no matter how far from the Internet's wild, anarchic origins we get—no matter how much the Web starts to look and act like a copy-protecting iTunes nightmare—they're still out there. Waiting.
Douglas Rushkoff, a professor of media studies at The New School University and producer and correspondent for the PBS Frontline Digital Nation project, is the author of numerous books, including Cyberia, ScreenAgers, Media Virus , and, most recently, Life Inc. , released this month by Random House.
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This is what you won't see on CNN or on MSNBC or CBS News or on any major media Web site anywhere and especially no goddamn way ever in hell will you see it within a thousand miles of Fox News.
You aren't supposed to see. You aren't supposed to know. You are to remain ignorant and shielded, and, if you're like most Americans, you have been very carefully conditioned to think Bush's nasty Iraq war is merely this ugly little firecracker-like thing happening way, way over there, carefully orchestrated and somewhat messy and maybe a little bloody but mostly still patriotic and good and necessary and sponsored by none other than God his own angry Republican self.
And hence you and I both have no real idea what the hell goes on in Iraq, no real images to gnaw on and be deeply horrified and saddened by, except for maybe a tiny handful of carefully sanitized snapshots of bombed-out Iraqi cities and maybe some grainy video of U.S. soldiers enjoying a dusty game of pickup football and a turkey dinner at the posh military digs way, way outside of Baghdad.
Or maybe you think war is manly and heroic and cool, as exemplified by that now-famous shot of that macho "Dogface" Marlboro-smokin' Marine whose dirt-encrusted mug was eagerly picked up by newspapers and media Web sites across the nation (including this one), and he became an instant icon for the war and the military was positively giddy about using him an ideal recruitment tool, a model of how to make soldiers look all studly and rugged and badass as opposed to the often poorly educated, disposable hunks of politically abused postpubescent meat BushCo considers them to be.
So then. Here is your uncensored truth: fallujahinpictures.com . Real pictures from Fallujah. Real pictures of war. Brutal and explicit and shocking and just one site of many. Be warned: this is very graphic content. Horrific and deeply disturbing. No censorship. No suppression. No Photoshop. No bogus shots of happy Iraqi children running in the streets begging for candy from American soldiers. No night shots of Marines in bitchin' night-vision goggles bustin' down the door of some palace and then cheering.
Because if you think that's what it's all been about, if you really think war is just this tragic but necessary evil that contains some unfortunate violence and regrettable death but is nonetheless still full of righteous democratic American truth, you have been wildly misled and deeply deceived and might want to consider a nice intellectual emetic. You and Dubya both.
Mind you, fallujahinpictures.com is not all gross-out shots of imploded skulls or severed limbs or brutally decapitated children or mutilated women or splattered brains or rivers of blood and intestine and excrement lining the Iraqi streets. Those horrific photos are indeed available (just Google " Iraq war pictures "). But, really, who wants to see that? Not Dubya, that's who. Besides, that's what slasher movies are for. Republicans and war hawks don't actually want to see that stuff in, you know, real life .
And maybe you already know that our government instituted an unqualified ban on pictures of all those flag-draped U.S. coffins that are pouring into American Air Force bases by the hundreds. Maybe you remember that cargo worker who lost her job last spring for leaking such photos to The Seattle Times .
Maybe you know how back in June the Republican-led Congress upheld the ban on coffin photos , all under the guise of "respecting soldiers' families," which of course translates directly into "If the pubic saw all those kids coming home dead, they might not wave that flag so wildly."
As the saying goes, Bush may be dumb, but he ain't always stupid. Even he doubtlessly remembers the effect of watching TV in the '60s and seeing all those American kids coming home from Vietnam in body bags. Not exactly good for morale back home. Not exactly good for the country's view of itself. And true poison to the pseudo-noble idea of just what the hell it is we think we're doing by launching such brutal and unwinnable wars in the first place.
Make no mistake, the government knows the power of the photo. Words, it's not so worried about. After all, you can read the war descriptions and you can check the appalling U.S. death stats and you can scour the dour headlines and still most of us just shrug our shoulders and say gosh that sounds bad and get on with our day.
But much like that other "un-American" site, sorryeverybody.com , exemplifies so beautifully (in a wholly different but no less effective way), sometimes words just aren't enough. You need to see it. You need to feel it. Visceral and human and deep.
Funny thing is, many right-wing neocons consider the act of displaying such pictures unpatriotic, even traitorous. As if revealing the true horrors of war somehow disrespects our long-suffering soldiers, somehow harms them by depicting the full violence of what they must endure for Bush's snide and viciously isolationist policies. You think soldiers don't want the folks back home to know what they have to deal with? You think they want you numb to the truth of war and pain and death? Guess again.
Maybe this should be the rule: If you can't handle seeing what really goes on in a war, maybe you don't deserve to support it. If you can't stomach the truths of what our soldiers are doing and how brutally and bloodily they're dying and in just what manner they have to kill those innocent Iraqi civilians in the name of BushCo's desperate lurch toward greed and power and Iraqi oil fields and empire, maybe you don't have the right to stick that little flag on your oil-sucking SUV. Clear enough?
The major media, by the way, is often hamstrung and torn. They can rarely run such photos. Newspapers and TV are hemmed in by "no-sensationalism" policies and are often paralyzed by the notion that if they ran such pictures, they would be called insensitive or inflammatory or anti-Bush and advertisers and readers alike would run away in droves. After all, most readers just aren't keen on seeing gross-out pics of 19-year-old kids from Kentucky with massive bleeding head traumas. It just totally ruins "Garfield."
You have to seek the facts yourself. You have to dare yourself to click, to take it in, to see if you can, in fact, handle the truth.
It is not easy. It is definitely not pleasant. But in this time of ever escalating numbers of war dead and flagrant BushCo lies and sanitized BS about the real effects of war, all coupled with a simmering plan to attack Iran and maybe North Korea someday real soon, seeking out such visceral truth is no longer just optional. It is, perhaps, the most patriotic thing you can do.
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