“If Ello was serious about their 'manifesto' they'd be non-profit,” Adams told me. But Ello’s founders have to sell something, whether it’s to VCs or companies. And that something is always going to be you.
You might decide that being that kind of currency—the kind that promotes investment, hiring and promotion of this companies and these people—is fine with you.
But then I was very disappointed at my profession as an architect, because we are not helping, we are not working for society, but we are working for privileged people, rich people, government, developers. They have money and power. Those are invisible. So they hire us to visualize their power and money by making monumental architecture.
Mostly a white people’s pastime, nostalgia used to be a pining for an idealized yesteryear, for a prelapsarian world tinted in sepia. “Nostalgia appeals to the feeling that the past offered delights no longer obtainable,” the social critic Christopher Lasch wrote in The True and Only Heaven. Ah, no longer. Since the publication of Lasch’s book, in 1991, the Internet and cable TV have colonized the hive mind and set up carnival pavilions. Now every delight is obtainable and on display at an arcade that never closes.
Over the past two weeks, the immediacy and tangibility of the danger of geek culture’s toxic identity politics have crossed from potential to real, with threats of violence toward women and elaborate conspiracy theories being concocted to explain the small shifts toward inclusiveness in the gamer clubhouse.