My notes on Mantello, P. (2016). The machine that ate bad people: The ontopolitics of the precrime assemblage. Big Data & Society.

Since 9/11 the politics of prediction and risk have created an alliance between security agencies, technology firms and other commercial actors which seeks to create a precrime assemblage: the first generation sought to identify threats through data mining (“search habits, financial transactions, credit card purchases, travel history, and email communications”) but the next generation are “becoming intelligent assemblages capable of integrating data from a multitude of nodes in order to foresee and preempt harmful futures” (pg 2). These advances are being facilitated through cloud computing, machine learning and limitless storage.

The beta versions of these assemblages are being tested in real world situations, rendering it urgent for us to understand their implications. The first is what it means for criminal justice as a whole when the focus is on the anticipation of crime rather than dealing with its occurrence after the fact. The second is the expansion of surveillance into everyday life driven by the public-private alliances which are driving the agenda. The scope of surveillance is increasing but so too is to civic participation in it, driven by gamified mechanisms which “encourages citizens to do the securitization footwork of the state by offering them the opportunity to participate in do-it-yourself, reward-centered, pro-active, networked and, at times, and gamified versions of automated governance” (pg 2).

Peter Mantello argues that the allure of technological innovation is legitimating these developments, promising greater impartiality and efficiency, while the reality of their operation is extending juridicial reach in order to identify non immediate threats to the established order. The pre-crime assemblage will function “to preserve the domains of its masters, who will control immense existential and predictive data that will allow them to shape public perceptions, mold social behavior, and quell possible opposition, thereby ensuring the exception incontrovertible and infinite life” (pg 2).

He uses Massumi’s conception of ontopower to theorise this process, “a mode of power driven by an operative logic of preemption is spreading throughout the various structures, systems, and processes of modern life” (pg 3). Pre-emption itself is long standing but the preoccupation with speculative feelings of non imminent threats was, he argues, born out of the reaction to 9/11. If I understand correctly, the point is that risks are increasingly pre-empted rather than managed, with risk management becoming an anticipatory lens through actors and organisations proactively prepare for imagined futures.

Exceptionalism becomes legitimate under these circumstances, as anticipated threats are used to justify actions which would have otherwise been regarded as illegitimate. A mechanism like the “public safety orders” enacted by the New South Wale police expand the principle of anti-terror policing to civic law enforcement: “they shift the balance further away from the principles of due process where people are innocent until proven guilty and more toward a new era where crimes are committed before they happen, citizens are disappeared without recourse to defense, and where guilt and imprisonment are based on suspicion, rumor, association, or simply left to the intuitive ‘gut feeling’ of police officers” (pg 4). This goes hand-in-hand with an affirmation of the unpredictability of the future. Randomness and uncertainty mean that crimes cannot be avoided but this is why anticipatory work is seen as so important to minimise the threats on the horizon.

This anticipatory work tends to diffuse responsibility into an apparatus of knowledge production, identifying networks of connections or regional hot spots which become the locus of an intervention. A whole range of assets are deployed in the preparation of these interventions, as described on pg 5 in the case of Hitachi’s Public Safety Visualization Suite 4.5:

This includes mining data from an array of various nodes such as remote video systems (hotels/city streets/commercial and private properties/transporta- tion lines), gunshot sensors that alert CCTV cameras, vehicle license plate recognition systems, wireless com- munications, Twitter and other social media, mobile surveillance systems as well as useful data from smart parking meters, public transit systems, and online newspapers and weather forecasts.

Data visualisation plays a crucial role in this by “compressing vast amounts of invisible data into visible signifiers” (pg 5). However the uncertainty, ambiguity and construction which characterises the data itself is lost in the apparent self-evidence of the ensuing representations. The navigability, scalability, and tactility of the interface then mediates interaction with this experienced reality. The performative power falls away, as diverting police resources to ‘hotspots’ only to discover ‘more crime’ there (either comparable to what could be found elsewhere or encouraged by the aggravating factor of heavy handed police) comes to function as a legitimation of the apparatus itself. The approach also compounds existing inequalities through its reliance on historical apparatus about patterns of arrest in order to predict future offending.

What I found fascinating was the slippage in the software. An example on pg 6 concerns ‘at risk’ lists, intended to be the basis for social service interventions prior to any policing action, instead being used as target lists for people who were assumed to be likely offenders. This on the ground slippage highlights the importance of understanding the organisational context within which new tools are deployed, as a means to understand how their original intentions may mutate in the context of application.

The terrifying turn underway is from the deployment of past data to the harvesting of present data in real time. As Mantello puts it, this involves “the real-time extraction of personal data from an individual’s daily life—monitoring their patterns, routines, habits, emotional tendencies, preferences, idiosyncrasies, and geo- spatial coordinates” (pg 7). Enthusiasts claim that the broader the data that is harvested, the easier it will be to identify ‘criminal signatures’ at ever earlier points in time. This converges with what Zuboff has called surveillance capitalism in which behavioural data is leveraged to persuade rather than simply to predict. How might this modus operandi be enacted as part of the pre-crime assemblage? There is a truly dystopian horizon to such a project, described on pg 7:

Yet there is also the distinct dystopian possibility, in its never- ending ontopolitical pursuit to colonize and regulate all aspects of social life, that it may suppress dissent and discourage nonconformist thought or behavior. Already we are seeing such practices occur today with the increasing trends of self-censorship in social media due to fear of state surveillance and authoritarian reprisal

The gamified form this takes can be seen in Sesame Credit, produced in collaboration with Alibaba, as part of the early stages of China’s opt in social credit system, with rewards on offer for those who perform in ways that meet expectations. But as this becomes mandatory in 2020, we can expect this to go hand-in-hand with the proactive avoidance of people deemed to have poor social credit and potential sites where negative social credit behaviours may thrive. The author also considers the example of opt-in blackboxes in cars, where rewards on offer for those who agree to such monitoring but which eventually may be rolled out for everyone as part of a transformation of insurance. The City of Boston security app, Citizen Connect, offers ‘street cred’ recognition points for repeated contributions: “users who actively report on suspicious persons, ongoing crime, random acts of violence, or municipal infrastructure hazards get promoted to special ‘‘patrols’’ where they earn special badges of civic distinction” (pg 9).

Earlier this morning, I found myself impatiently waiting in my local petrol station to purchase a drink before I went swimming. The woman in front me in the queue was rather slow. Initially seeming surprised that money would be required for the transaction, she proceeded to initiate an entirely different process to locate her coins after handing over the necessary notes. Having completed the exchange, she gathered her things with a similar lack of pace, slowly preparing to leave the shop. It was at that point that she gently chided me for rushing her, suddenly leaving me aware that this was in fact what I was doing by impatiently lingering while effectively pointing towards the cashier with my drink.

With this newfound awareness, my irritation at her transmuted into an irritation with myself. Why was I being so impatient? Why was I being needlessly rude? It immediately occurred to me that this was an example of what I mean by cognitive triage. Having woken up later than planned, I started the day with a vivid sense of all the tasks I had to complete, with one leading in sequence to the next. There were a couple of things that had to be done today but this sense of urgency mostly reflected a desire to be on top of things before I headed off to the midlands for the rest of the week.

It was an anticipatory urgency: a haste animated by the fear of falling behind in the future. This can be distinguished from rushing to meet a deadline. The imminent arrival of a deadline offers a fixed temporal horizon for an activity. One rushes and then ceases to rush. In contrast, anticipatory urgency is potentially open-ended. If an upcoming event is a threat to ‘being on top of things’ then where to draw the line in terms of what is required to be prepared? My suggestion is that anticipatory urgency engenders a peculiarly hasty form of haste. It involves rushing in a rushed way. Not simply speeding up to meet a deadline but trying to speed up one’s speeding up. How much can I get done before I go away? How prepared do I need to be? It’s a reflexive orientation that can bring out the worst in people, as my rudeness in the garage illustrates.

There is a pleasure in speed, as Milan Kundera powerfully captures in his Slowness. There is the possibility of transcendence. On pg 3-4 he describes the inner experience of a man on a motorbike:

the man hunched over his motorcycle can focus only on the present instance of his flight; he is caught in a fragment of time cut off from both the past and the future; he is wrenched from the continuity of time; he is outside time; in other words he is in a state of ecstasy. In that state he is unaware of his age, his wife, his children, his worries, and so he has no fear, because the source of fear is in the future, and a person freed of the future has nothing to fear.

In contrast, I’d argue, anticipatory urgency precludes this. One is not cut off from past and future but profoundly implicated in the relationship between the two. The present is subordinated the future, with the usual texture of temporality being reduced to an endless sequence of moments. Each one is simply a challenge lying in the way of reaching the next. It creates flat time. This suppression of relationality is licensed by the promise that the important events will come and our anticipatory urgency will have left us properly open to them. But the more time we spent in a state of anticipatory urgency, the less likely it is that this promise will ever be realised.