Something I’ve been thinking quite a lot about lately is the impermanence of things. I don’t mean that in an existential way, but in a tangible, physical domain manner.

Some years ago, I was surprised to learn that with an Audible (owned by Amazon) subscription, we do not own the audiobooks. Audible can, and has, removed titles at will, though once purchased, you should be able to access that title forever in the platform. But this leads me to several other questions, including, is something actually yours when it exists in “the cloud” in non-tangible format (at least, non-tangible in that it cannot be manipulated as an object by you) and could, theoretically, be removed at any point by someone other than you? Is it ownership, or is it permission to access that these platforms offer us?

And does it matter?

I’m sure this brings up many counterpoints and philosophical questions, but I’m more curious about what effect this has on our psychology, to feel so disconnected from the very things we interact with, and the very things which we purport to “own.” If a mega-conglomerate can control what I have access to, do I have, truly, access to those things? If the gate can be opened and closed without my control, do I control that gate?

I worry of the sense of impermanence this creates in our psyches, the idea that attachment is a risk, that nothing is real or stable. To me, this goes beyond the more philosophical “nothing lasts forever,” and more into the territory of a constantly shifting floor. I wonder if this will transfer not just to our perceptions of how media exists, but to our relationships, our sense of belonging and community, and the more important things in life. I wonder then: does this lead to more individualism and a further erosion of our communities and societies?

This, of course, leads to the natural concern of censorship. With book bans galore, too many to list out here, any opportunity for powers to remove or restrict access to books is a concern. When you do not physically retain something, it becomes that much easier to “disappear” it from your possession, doesn’t it?

This doesn’t just end with books.

In May 2023, before the October 7th attack on Israel, and before Israel’s current genocide of Palestinians, Mohammed Assaf, a Palestinian singer, claimed his popular song, Ana Dammi Falastini (My Blood is Palestinian), released in 2015, was removed from both Spotify and Apple. Assaf said he’d received “an official email about it, on the pretext that the song incites the Zionist enemy, …”

I know this song well, having listened to it for years, and not once does it mention, even implicitly, Zionism, never mind violence. The song is simply one that shows pride in, and honors, Palestinian heritage.

Spotify denied having removed the song, but claimed that “availability may vary over time and by country.” They further added that though they themselves did not remove the song, the song’s distributor did.

None of this makes sense to me given Assaf’s claim on receiving the email that specifically called out a Zionist-centered reason for the song’s removal. And while the song was unavailable on Spotify and Apple, it remained streaming on Arabic-music platform, Anghami.

The song was eventually relisted on Spotify following backlash, and after “a new license agreement was signed.” This apparently is not that new or unusual, though, with songs disappearing due to expired agreements, and reappearing once new ones are signed. But this still harkens back to my earlier point in this article: who owns the very things we consume? And what power can, and do, they wield over us because of this?

What’s interesting to me, besides the removal at will of media is the changing of media.

After watching the movie Sinners, I found the movie soundtrack on Spotify and quickly added my favorite songs to my “Liked” list.

But some weeks ago, when relistening to one of the songs, Pale, Pale, Moon, I was surprised to find the song sounded different from my memory of it. I listened again, and again, replaying the beginning segment in particular. Had the song been updated or changed since I’d last listened to it? It didn’t seem like a remix.

I quickly wondered if I was losing my mind.

A quick review of Spotify, and I realized that there were two versions of the song, one by singer Jayme Lawson, which was the one I knew first, and another by singer Brittany Howard, which was the one I’d heard that sounded different to me. I enjoy both, but one is more familiar to me.

This instance had a simple, and innocuous, explanation, but it did get me thinking: media can be so easily and subtly updated without our noticing and control, can’t it? What does this mean, then, for our sense of shared reality? Our sense of truth? How do we retain veracity when our entire realities can be force-changed like an operating system pushing out updates? When reality can be updated, how do we keep trusting our senses and each other?

Ownership does have a certain feel to me, more of a consumerist or capitalistic mentality, and may not be what we are all after. But for me, it’s not so much the ownership, as the continued and promised access, without change, to media, especially books, music, and art. What happens to a society if what it is exposed to can be changed without permission and without explanation?

With the change of US TikTok from Chinese ByteDance to US control, entire accounts have seen plummeting views and even banning. Emmy-winning Palestinian journalist surviving in Gaza Bisan Owda, with her 1.4 million followers, has been permanently banned from Tiktok after the change to US hands. According to an Al Jazeera article, “Hours after Owda shared her video, an account that appeared to have the same username was still visible on TikTok in Australia – but not in the Middle East, when Al Jazeera checked in different geographies.” When platforms control so much of our access to information, to thought, to clarity, what kind of reality is being created for us?

It concerns me, this thought, because it connects to power structures, to propaganda, censorship, suppression, and, ultimately, to loss of freedom. Intellectual identity and access is inherent to freedom, to education, and the reliable access to it is an integral foundation of a healthy society. When that access can be interrupted or outfitted with a new texture, we no longer have education; we have redirection, misdirection, and ultimately, de-education.

I am hardly the first to point all of this out, and I don’t have answers to most of the questions I’ve posed above, but I do wonder about them. I wonder what type of society is being, and has been, created when reality, especially art, can be so easily updated, turned on or off at will, and subject to outside powers.

By: Rania Hanna

Let me know what you think, whether you’ve had the same thoughts, or different ones, and whether this all bothers you as much as it does me.