{"resolved":true,"match_type":"uuid","source_type":"original_book","book_id":"a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","title":"人工智能和资本主义的未来","author":null,"edition":null,"publisher":null,"year":null,"isbn":"9780745338613","requested_by":"printed_page","book":{"source_type":"original_book","book_id":"a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","id":"a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","uuid":"a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","title":"人工智能和资本主义的未来","normalized_title":"人工智能和资本主义的未来","author":null,"edition":null,"publisher":null,"year":null,"isbn":"9780745338613","isbns":["9780745338613","9780745338606","9781786803955","9781786803979","9781786803962"],"parsed":true,"ai_readable":true,"document_type":"book","page_count":225,"navigation_url":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/ai/book/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","title_url":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/ai/title/%E4%BA%BA%E5%B7%A5%E6%99%BA%E8%83%BD%E5%92%8C%E8%B5%84%E6%9C%AC%E4%B8%BB%E4%B9%89%E7%9A%84%E6%9C%AA%E6%9D%A5","fixed_page_url_template":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/ai/book/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02/page/{printed_page}","path_api_url_template":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/api/ai/book/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02/page/{printed_page}","read_url":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/api/ai/read/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02","page_url":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/api/ai/books/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02/page","search_url":"https://workshop.closeclaw.top/api/ai/books/a2eab101-adfc-4a0d-8142-63a4d11cee02/search"},"page":{"printed_page":106,"pdf_page":114,"physical_index":114,"physical_index_base":0,"printed_page_status":"recognized","page_sha256":"f79b5e4f6797280b332581d4cece9d519109daccadbb1bc8b8647f657372899d"},"chapter":"Digital Barricades: Interventions in Digital Culture and Politics","content":"6) Digital city disturbances. As giant AI developers impress an ever stronger footprint on the urban landscape with their headquarters, campuses and experimental sites, social conflicts explode in the city-incubators of AI. Nowhere is this more evident than around Silicon Valley, where billionaires in luxury mansions, millionaires working in high-tech campuses, low-paid service workers and a large homeless population coexist in constant tension. As software production expanded north from the Valley of San Francisco and the Bay area, so too did these social fault-lines. In 2013–14, the private buses that transport high-tech workers to the ‘Googleplex’ in Mountain View became a flashpoint for protests against gentrification, eviction, displacement and congestion (Goode and Miller 2013). Demonstrators blockaded the bus routes. Signs read ‘Gentrification and Eviction Technologies: Integrated Displacement and Cultural Erasure’ and ‘Fuck Off Google’. Leaflets accused Google of ‘building an unconscionable world of surveillance, control and automation’ (Streitfeld and Wollan 2014). The protests flared up, went out, and then re-appeared in 2018. ‘Techsploitation is Toxic’ militants blocked a dozen Google buses by piling in front of them the electric scooters used by an Uber-style company, and denounced plans to clear the streets of homeless encampments with slogans such as ‘Sweep tech not tents’ and ‘They call it “Disruption.” We call it displacement’ (Streitfeld 2018). These urban disturbances also include contestation of AI-based ‘smart cities’. In 2017, Sidewalks Labs, a subsidiary of Google’s holding company, Alphabet, negotiated with the city of Toronto a ‘public-private’ partnership for the development of the waterfront neighbourhood Quayside. Under this pact, the details of which were not disclosed, Quayside would become a showcase for AI-saturated urban innovations; streets designed for autonomous vehicles, robot garbage collection, ubiquitous sensors and security cameras, and a centralized information management system reading residents’ ID from library and health cards. Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau praised the project as a harbinger of clean, green urbanity. Eric Schmidt, Google’s former CEO, explained that the idea came from Google’s founders getting excited thinking of ‘all the things you could do if someone would just give us a city and put us in charge’ (Kofman 2018). Apparently unmentioned in the initial agreement were the ownership and terms of collection of digital data to be gathered in Quayside. This issue remained obscure until forced into the public eye by a campaign led by TechReset Canada (Barth 2018), a group opposed to unrestrained digital commodification that criticized the opacity of the deal, insisted the contract be made public, and demanded provisions to ensure that ‘the data and data infrastructure of this project are the property of the City of Toronto and its residents’. This mobilized a coalition whose participants ranged from housing activists to disgruntled city planners; their cause won support even from leading Canadian high-tech entrepreneurs, objecting to intellectual property surrender to foreign corporations. Prominent members of the board overseeing the Quayside agreement resigned. As of early 2019, the issue remains unresolved. Sidewalk Labs may concede to objections, but also dodge the protest, by agreeing to collect only aggregated, anonymized data – a ploy that, while it addresses the limited issue of personal privacy, leaves untouched the larger problems of corporate command over population-level information and urban design (Greenfield 2013).\n\n106\n\ninhuman power","previous_page":105,"next_page":107}