Explainer #8: what connects the creator economy, Spider-Man, and the English Civil War?

Um, what?

I will admit that I have been weirdly obsessed with the English Civil War for years. But that’s because it’s one of the best historical analogies I know for the modern struggle for authority over our online lives. So yes, I am going to talk about a rebel army in 1647, comic-book artists in 1992, and online creators in 2026. This is complicated enough that it’s going to take me two weeks to get through it all. But I swear that this is going to make sense by the end.

Back in February, I wrote about 1215, when a bunch of English barons rebelled against that untrustworthy little shit King John, winning their rights at Runnymede with Magna Carta. Four hundred years later, the English were faced with another terrible king, Charles I: a short, grumpy, arrogant, violent nepo baby.

Charles I wasn’t a typical English king. Queen Elizabeth had died without an heir, so the Scottish kings stepped in (James and then his son Charles). James was not on board the Magna Carta train. He was all about the divine right of kings, a literal God complex. Don’t take my word for this, he actually said it in a speech to Parliament: “The state of the monarchy is the supremest thing upon the earth. For kings are not only God's lieutenants upon earth, and sit upon God's throne, but even by God himself they are called gods.”

Charles I was his father’s son and more. He persecuted his enemies through a royal court called Star Chamber that was notorious for conducting investigations, convicting people, and handing out brutal punishments without juries or rules of evidence. [Sound familiar?] He eventually got fed up with any constraint at all, and disbanded Parliament for 11 years so he could rule (and tax) directly.

The people of England were not about to take this divine right bullshit sitting down. In the centuries since Magna Carta, the noblemen who brought King John to heel had evolved into a standing assembly called Parliament. In the 1300s, Parliament became more inclusive by adding the House of Commons, made up of non-nobles elected by property owners around the country to represent their interests.

Parliament had power because, per Magna Carta, the King wasn’t supposed to impose taxes or raise money without their consent. Parliament also stood up for the peoples’ rights against unfair court proceedings. So, obviously, Parliament immediately resented Charles’ reign, with his constant attempts to rein them in. [Accidental pun? - Ed. Pun intended - Bellack. You suck - Ed. I am Ed. - Bellack. Oops, carry on - Ed.]

Charles finally ran out of ways to squeeze money out of the country without Parliament’s help, and brought them back into session in 1640. Pissed off about being disbanded for 11 years, they immediately tried to take even more power from Charles. He was so angry about that, he barged into Parliament with soldiers in a (failed) attempt to arrest his chief enemies. Parliament fought back, and the English Civil War broke out in earnest.

Several years of bloody battles and intrigue followed involving Scottish Presbyterians, Irish rebels, dashing Bohemian princes, and crown jewel smuggling. Finally, in 1645, Parliament got serious about winning, and organized the New Model Army, a group of authentic English hard men (imagine Vinnie Jones times 22,000). They trounced King Charles’ forces and chased him all over the country. After a few complicated steps along the way, Charles was captured, tried for high treason, convicted, and beheaded.

Turmoil continued for another 40 years of back and forth involving a Commonwealth, Charles I’s sons retaking the throne, and finally the Glorious Revolution in 1688. In the end, Parliament firmly established its supremacy over the king. Parliament, and thus democracy (of a limited sort) had won.

That’s all well and good, but back in 1647, that army of 22,000 Vinnie Joneses wasn’t about to just disband and go home, leaving everything up to Parliament. They wanted a say in what came next. 

Enter the 17th century equivalent of influencers – rabble-rousing pamphleteers. They demanded a “levelling” where everyone, not just landowners, would have the equal right to vote. These young men, a mix of civilians and soldiers, started pumping out hot takes with clickbait titles that wouldn’t be out of place on YouTube today (modulo the Early Modern English syntax): “A Remonstrance of Many Thousand Citizens,” “The Case of The Army Truly Stated,” “England’s New Chains Discovered,” etc.

The New Model Army soldiers, sitting around waiting for something to happen, were a target-rich environment for these pamphlets. The hype eventually forced the Army’s leaders to hold a set of meetings to talk everything through. These were held west of London and just south of the Thames, and became known as the Putney Debates. [Coincidentally where I lived in the UK for a couple of years in my 20s. Nice neighborhood.]

One of the civilians chosen to speak, 23-year-old shit-stirrer John Wildman, hit the democracy lever hard: “I conceive that’s the undeniable maxim of government: that all government is in the free consent of the people… whether any person can be bound by law, who does not give his consent that such persons shall make laws for him?” [If you read my one-year-anniversary post, you’ll see clear echoes.]

His chief adversary at the debate was Thomas Cromwell’s son-in-law Henry Ireton. I’m going to quote him at length because he sounds disturbingly like a modern galaxy-brained billionaire:

Putney was the Levellers’ high point, but it didn’t last. None of their recommendations were adopted and they were brutally crushed, many of them executed. Even the minutes of the debates were not published and were lost and basically forgotten until being rediscovered in 1890. The UK didn’t pass universal suffrage until 1918 for men and 1928 for women.

[IMPORTANT CAVEAT: The Levellers’ view of expanded suffrage was radical for its time, but still limited by our modern standards. They didn’t want servants or beggars to vote because they were dependent on others. And they didn’t even consider letting women vote.]

I believe that our fight for online rights is more like the English Civil War than the French Revolution. There’s unlikely to be a mass uprising. Instead, we should brace ourselves for decades of ongoing push and pull as communities and platform executives fight for power on different fronts. See, for example, governments pushing age verification and filing antitrust suits at the same time platforms are forcing us to accept mandatory arbitration and class action bans.

Practically speaking, this means that every small win is worthwhile. Despite my past critique of the Meta Oversight Board, it’s definitely better than nothing. The transparency and arbitration requirements of the EU Digital Services Act are steps in the right direction. To build momentum for the cause of online rights, we need to grab onto these and figure out how to build on them, not reject them because they don’t go far enough.

At the same time, I love the Levellers because they went for broke and fought for the ideal. They failed, but they got some big ideas onto the table. They would recognize, and appreciate, their work echoing in the US Constitution, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, and other milestones of modern democracy. When I write about due process or credible exit, I’m fully aware that it might not happen now, or for decades, but in the spirit of the Levellers, I want to expand everyone’s notion of what’s possible.

Next week, I’m going to try to convince you that today’s online creators and influencers have a chance to play the role of the Barons against King John, or Parliament against King Charles I, and fight on behalf of their (and ultimately our) rights.

I’ve got a few recent cases to point out, but I’m going to make it interesting by bringing in Spider-Man. He was one of the characters at the heart of the so-called Image Revolution in 1992, when a group of top comics creators took a stand and helped change their entire industry.

Until next time, true believers!

Ideas? Feedback? Criticism? I want to hear it, because I am sure that I am going to get a lot of things wrong along the way. I will share what I learn with the community as we go. Reach out any time at [email protected].