"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door... You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
--J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Response: Haraway, Plant, and Turkle

This week I am responding to Simians, Cyborgs, and Women, Chapter 8, “A Cyborg Manifesto” by Donna Haraway, Life on the Screen: Identity in the Age of the Internet, Chapter 9, “Virtuality and its Discontents” by Sherry Turkle, and “Ada Lovelace and the Loom of Life” by Sadie Plant in The Object of Labor: Art, Cloth, and Cultural Production.

This week’s prompt is:
What political potential might radical feminists (or radicals of any stripe for that matter) find in the new media forms that are absent in the mass media world of the decades immediately following the Second World War?

It seems that, for the writers we read this week, the primary political potential in new digital media lies in the ability to dissociate oneself from traditional labels and categories that have, historically, been used as justification for disenfranchisement or disempowerment: gender, race, class, etc. The anonymity of the internet would allow members of these groups to express their ideas and creativity apart from these restrictive classifications. Cyberspace represents for these writers a deconstruction of artificial, repressive social categories.

This is certainly so for Haraway. She rejoices in the fluid nature of the cyborg: “[Cyborgs] are as hard to see politically as materially. They are about consciousness—or its simulation” (153). The cyborg, according to Haraway, distills human interaction down to pure consciousness. This, she says, “changes what counts as women’s experience in the late twentieth century,” because it blurs all sorts of constructed boundaries—not only race, class, gender, and so on, but also human-animal, or material-immaterial (149). As a feminist, she sees this blurring of boundaries as a deconstruction of artificial conceptions of femininity: “There is nothing about being ‘female’ that naturally binds women. There is not even such a state as ‘being’ female, itself a highly complex category constructed in contested scientific discourses and other social practices” (155). Modern electronic media will change women’s experience by allowing them modes of expression previously denied to them due to such socially-imposed constructions.

Plant gives a more historical view of the way the development of electronic media has influenced and involved women. She details the relation between computers and textiles, a craft generally associated with women, and discusses the history of women and computers, beginning with Ada Lovelace and continuing through twentieth-century women computer programmers. While her argument may be less theoretical than Haraway’s, she makes a case for computers and electronic media as an achievement of women as well as men. She marks an important place for them in a field which, today, is often associated with males, thus emphasizing their capacity to partake in a traditionally “masculine” discipline. She does not attempt to argue that women are somehow innately suited for computer work, as Freud tried to argue that women are innately suited for textiles. Rather, she indicates that women were allowed entry to the world of programming because it was considered menial, like weaving (p. 262). Once allowed entry, they excelled in ways that would be influential in the development of contemporary electronic media. Plant sets forth women’s historical involvement with the development of computers as a testament to their ability to excel in traditionally male industries, thereby undermining the assertions of Freud and others that women cannot think analytically.

While Turkle focuses less on women and more on middle-class young adults, she, like Haraway, discusses the empowerment offered by internet’s deconstruction of accepted social categories and norms. In the world of MUDs, people’s ability to recreate themselves as they desire offers them a sense of empowerment they may not feel in their real life. Although she seems wary of the conflation of simulation and reality, she does remark the greater level of participation exhibited by members of cyber-communities. Like Haraway, Turkle affirms that the disassociation of self from embodiment is empowering. She does offer a caveat: “The challenge is to integrate some meaningful personal responsibility in virtual environments. Virtual environments are valuable as places where we can acknowledge our inner diversity. But we still want an authentic experience of self” (p. 254). Haraway does not seem to share this concern for authenticity—she rejoices at the way cyberspace blurs all boundaries. Turkle, on the other hand, only values the empowerment of cyberspace to the extent that it does not replace simulation for reality. While she may also appreciate cyberspace’s capacity to deconstruct borders, it is useless to her if it results in an inability to discern or an apathy towards reality.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Response: Turner, Hayles, and Disneyland!!

This week I am responding to From Counterculture to Cyberculture by Fred Turner, chapters 2 and 6, and How We Became Posthuman by Katherine Hayles.

While reading the section about cybernetic art worlds in chapter 2, “Stewart Brand Meets the Cybernetic Counterculture” or Turner’s book, his descriptions of the artistic environments created by the various avant-garde movements of the mid-20th century reminded me a lot of something that is generally not considered to be countercultural or subversive: Disneyland.

I am sure that several hippies are now rolling over in their graves. They must be scandalized that I would compare their art to something so corporate, so businessy, so, well, Disneyfied as the Disney parks. But hear me out. I have always perceived a great deal of artistry in the Disney parks, and I think the very reasons why those avant-garde movements found meaning in their particular mode of expression may be applied to the Disney parks and may explain in part why they have achieved such a devoted, enduring fan base. True, the Disney parks are constructed upon a business model, which the avant-garde artists would have shunned, but the parks reach a level and species of artistic and emotional engagement that I find similar to what the cybernetic artists tried to create.

The first passage in which I was reminded of the Disney parks was in the description of USCO’s cybernetic art productions:

Rather than work with a transmission model of communication, in which performers or others attempt to send a message to their audience, USCO events tried to take advantage of what Gerd Stern called “the environmental circumstance.” That is, USCO constructed all-encompassing technological environments, theatrical ecologies in which the audience was simply one species of being among many, and waited to observe their effects (51).

This is exactly what the Disney parks are. In my own private musings (because I am the sort of nerd who muses about the artistic classification of the Disney parks), I have called the parks “immersive, interactive, environmental theatre,” a description which sounds very similar to Stern’s idea of “the environmental circumstance.” Like USCO’s performances, The Disney parks use a variety of technologies, appealing to all five senses, to create intricately themed environments that engage with guests on artistic levels. To me, this is the biggest difference between the Disney parks and the average theme park—for example, a Six Flags. The latter is really just about thrills and fun. Honestly, most of the roller coasters in Six Flags parks are more intense and thrilling than those in the Disney parks. But that’s all, really. Adrenaline rush, yummy food, adrenaline rush, fun show—thrills removed from any sort of artistic engagement. In the Disney parks, on the other hand, the thrills are always part of a greater story, be it an epic adventure—chasing the Yeti on “Expedition Everest” or experiencing the paranormal on “The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror”—or a short, poetic snapshot—the sights, sounds, and smells from a hang glider in “Soaring Over California” or the excitement of rushing to a rock concert in “Rock’N’Roller Coaster.”

Every detail in the parks and the attractions is minutely, carefully crafted to totally immerse guests in environment and story, from the subtly transitioning music moving between lands to the forced perspective used to make the castle and the buildings on Main Street look taller than they actually are. One of my favorite bits of trivia has to do with the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. The story of this attraction is that one day, at the Hollywood Tower Hotel, sometime in the 1920s, all the guests of the hotel suddenly disappeared in to … (in my best Rod Serling voice) the Twilight Zone. In order to thoroughly create the illusion that everyone had disappeared in a moment, there are several props strewn about in the lobby, including an in-progress Parcheesi game. Rather than just placing pieces on the board, the Imagineers hired two professional Parcheesi players to play for an hour. At the end of the hour, the players had to get up and leave the table, leaving the pieces where they were, to create the illusion that the fictional players had actually disappeared.

Turner mentions many times the techno-mysticism in the work of the USCO artists; they availed themselves of all sorts of technology to explore how they could be used artistically, to create an effect or to heighten the consciousness of the audience. This most definitely applies to the Disney parks. Disney has always been on the cutting edge of examining the artistic potential of new technologies. This tradition goes back to Walt himself, who, upon seeing an audio-animatronic bird, became enamored of the technology, and immediately began considering how to use and improve this technology. Disney continues this tradition today with such attractions as the World of Color water show in Disney’s California Adventure. This show uses fountains, laser projections on screens of water, pyrotechnics, music, and animation to create a spectacular and moving show. However, despite Disney’s use of new technologies to create new types of effects, it is the way it uses technologies that is truly telling. Today, we have ceased to be awed or surprised by audio-animatronic figures, but attractions like Pirate of the Caribbean continue to be beloved because of how they use older technologies to tell a story. They bend these technologies to a greater artistic effect, and so they continue to hold emotional significance even after the technology itself loses its novelty.

Finally, Turner describes a sense of “mystical together-ness” that the USCO artists strove to cultivate: “they aimed not only to help their audiences become more aware of their surroundings but also to help them imagine themselves as members of a mystical community” (52). In my experience, the Disney parks are one of the best environments for creating such a sense of “mystical together-ness.” From the oft-heard “Have a magical day!” to the excitement over seeing a favorite character, to the feeling of camaraderie with other guests, this sense of community is pervasive in the parks. When I was last at Disneyland, last November, I went with my friend Lisa, who had never been before. Upon first entering the park, we went to City Hall to get her “First Visit” button. Throughout our three days at the park, guests and cast members alike congratulated her on her first visit and asked if she was having a good time. That sort of conversation that would be strange anywhere else, but it feels natural within the communal air of the parks. While the avant-garde artists used psychedelic drugs to create this effect, the Imagineers use the much simpler drugs of endorphin highs and adrenaline rushes to create the same feeling.

As is probably clear by now, I could talk about Disney forever. So I will conclude with the thought that, although it is true that the Disney parks have a much larger business component than movements like USCO, they share many of the same artistic qualities and techniques. This all to argue that the Disney parks are not, as many critics would say, merely monuments to consumerism and mass media. They are truly immersive works of art.
One final observation on this front. Disneyland Park opened in 1955, concurrent with many of these avant-garde movements. I am not inclined to think this is coincidence.

A few words on Hayles, now that I have blabbered so long about Disney. I found what she said about the self being an information-processing entity (I can’t find her exact wording) interesting, and I think it might help explain the phenomenon observed by Foucault of or cultural obsession with the idea of an author. If the self is basically information, and the body is just a prosthesis, then one’s writing is, in a way, actually part of oneself. In fact, it may be considered more an expression of self than the body, because writing is made of information, not matter, so it is essentially more similar to an informational self. Hayles does not seem to think that this conception of self as pure information is the best (she seems to want to celebrate, rather than reject, the human material existence), but the existence of that conception may explain why we want to attach an author to a work so badly. We want to have some conception of the “self” behind that piece of writing. If the writing is an extension of the author’s self, it seems to make sense to use the same signifier for the work that we use for the writer—the writer’s name.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Response: Hayek

This week I am responding to The Road to Serfdom by Friedrich von Hayek.

It seems to me that for Hayek, the most important value, which should be preserved at all costs, is individual freedom of choice. I may be not fully understanding or oversimplifying his position, but he seems to think that any restriction of individual choice will propel us rapidly down the slippery slope to totalitarianism. While reading this week’s selections, I couldn’t help but feeling that his viewpoint comes from a place of privilege (I’m using it a casual sense, not in his sense). He writes with contempt about restrictions which would turn individuals into means “to be used by the authority in the service of such abstractions as the ‘social welfare’ or the ‘good of the community’” (96). Even restrictions intended to aid the common good are dangerous in Hayek’s eyes.

I am not very educated in politics or economics, but I do a lot of volunteer work with social justice, so I thought about his argument in terms of Fair Trade. For those who don’t know, Fair Trade is a certification process that ensures that growers in other countries are paid fair wages for their labor and use sustainable agricultural procedures. You can read more about it here. It’s especially important in industries like the chocolate industry, in which slave labor and the exploitation of children is a huge problem. So, in that light, it’s hard for me to take Hayek’s obsession with individual choice seriously. A certification like Fair Trade does, in fact, individual choice. When a chocolate brand agrees to supply only Fair Trade chocolate, it is agreeing to submit itself to certain restrictions. So yes, it does decrease the freedom of choice of the chocolate makers.

However, let’s look at the other end of the spectrum. What about a young African boy, living in forced labor on a chocolate plantation? Without a labor restriction like Fair Trade, what options would he have? Continue to live as a slave on the chocolate farm, run away to try to find other options in an area where chocolate plantations are nearly the only option, or to try to make his way in a world where he has no education or qualifications to recommend him. Hayek wrote about the power that a monopoly holds over consumers—in this case, the owner of the chocolate plantation holds a monopoly on food and shelter as far as the boy is concerned. So how likely is the boy to leave a life of forced labor, when it is his only known source of life and sustenance? In this case, a labor restriction like a Fair Trade certification would give that boy more individual freedom of choice. If he lived on a Fair Trade farm, his family might have enough money to give their children more options, even potentially an education. So, a restriction in the name of the “social welfare” or the “good of the community, “abstractions” of which Hayek writes with scorn, does in face increase individual freedom of choice, just for those at the bottom of the economic spectrum, not those at the top. It seems to me that Hayek is only really concerned for the maintenance of individual choice for himself and others in his class, as he disregards the idea that measures which benefit the “common good” benefit many individuals, allowing them greater freedom of choice in what they do with their lives.

Again, I may have misunderstood his argument and have just gone a Fair Trade rant for no reason. He may be referring to other types of restrictions (government imposed, rather than voluntary). But as a supporter of Fair Trade, I couldn’t help getting irritated at his dismissal of the individual freedoms of agricultural workers in developing countries as merely elements of some abstract “social welfare.”