MP3 Wednesdays
Special thanks go to Mike B. for introducing me to this ultra-fine if very short-lived Canadian band that is currently lighting me up like the MC5 still do. Oh yeah.
Nice to see someone point out that just because we can do it doesn't mean we should. And this reminds me of another dodgy assumption: that technology can or will create a commons. I've done my fair share of consulting work that very quickly demonstrated that no collaborative technology can work where there is no collective will.

After taking notes on the origins of the words voluptuous, promiscuous, mob and emotion this seems about right.
from M/C Journal, Feb 2005
And despite agreeing that locative media may indeed offer revolutionary possibilities for wireless communications, Rushkoff doesn't see much interest from the mobile industry in things like low-cost access and open platforms. "Until locative media applications offer wireless providers or phone manufacturers a genuine competitive advantage in the way that, say, driving maps do, a future of collaborative cartography may have to wait..."
I don't know. I'm pretty sure that delivering potential consumers to advertisers would be considered a "competitive advantage" and, somewhat sadly, I've always assumed that commercial applications will be the first kind made widely available to the public. (In my dystopian imagination I see a city layered not with beautiful love stories but with a thousand corporate grabs for my attention.) But I also believe that our ideas about what "collaborative cartographies" mean will change and we will be challenged, yet again, to re-evaluate our assumptions about power, structure and agency. In other words, I still have hope.

In Lefebvre, Love & Struggle, Shields writes that Lefebvre "is perhaps the only Communist - certainly the only political economist - to have dared assert that all he had ever written about was love."
She sees passion as something crucial to, and currently lacking in, democratic politics. Mouffe believes that the recent rise in fundamentalism and right-wing politics is directly related to the Left's recent failure to cultivate passion and offer hope. And when the only people mobilising passions and offering hope are different kinds of fundamentalists, she reminds us of what is at stake.
Mouffe argues for a Leftist radicalisation of democracy based on the understanding that "democracy is never going to be completely realised" but it remains the most valuable political project or effort we can have. She identifies pluralist democracy - a democracy that values difference - as a process we work towards, and something that can never be entirely fulfilled.
Mouffe also argues that the Left, by tacitly accepting the inevitability of neo-liberal capitalism and its inherent rationality, has avoided having to articulate more imaginative and equitable alternatives. She believes that a radicalised democratic practice will also have to do better than "smashing the capitalist system" and establishing "a completely new socialist system". She argues for a more nuanced understanding of capitalism and democracy that evaluates diverse and situational needs and desires, instead of generalising experiences and offering universal solutions.
And speaking of more nomadic ways of thinking, Mouffe warns intellectuals and other travelling elites that we should not forget that belonging is very important to a great many people. If we forget that, it makes it difficult to understand - and support - political movements based on particular social and cultural territories, but not necessarily geographic places, nations or states.
I take this to support my belief in local situations and politics, and in multiplicity over singularity. Like Mouffe and many others, I think we make a mistake in equating globalisation with a global community or a global cosmopolitanism. On a smaller scale, we can see resistance to this sort of homogenisation in the reactions of some countries brought under the common identity of the European Union. What we need to watch out for is when our desire to set ourselves apart - to belong - is based in opposition to an Other (as in right-wing politics) rather than as a reflection of internal heterogeneity (as in left-wing politics).
First of all, I do think that the obligation of all critical academic work is to embody and promote responsible thinking that facilitates good judgment. But I abhor universal morality, and I honestly don't believe that any particular individual, group or class of people should get to decide for everyone what constitutes "responsible thinking" or "good judgment". This means that my politics are inherent in my work, and that they are just that: my interests. I hope to be able to convince some of their value, but I don't believe I aspire to have them applied in all scenarios for all people. I don't want to be totalitarian or even a benevolent dictator.
Currently working through the politics sections of my dissertation, I have found it helpful to return to Mary Zournazi's Hope: New Philosophies for Change. I agree with Erik that post-structural thinking can come too close to absolute relativism for comfort. I mean, given the too often dismal state of world affairs and real lives, I hardly want to suggest that anything goes! I think we really do need to have hope returned to us. Or at least be reminded of how it has always been part of living.
I guess what I'm saying is that I think that rather than being told what is right or wrong, we are more in need of being convinced that we can actually change the world. In my students, for example, I sometimes see a profound indifference that shares more in common with defeat than apathy. I don't want to compel them to act out of righteousness, I want them to act because there is still hope!
In this sense I really do need the nomadic (or mobile, or contingent, or contextual) types of ethics that appear in D&G and others. I want to focus on possibilities and potentials. I want to work with the idea that we are always becoming (more, less, other). That we are not done yet. That the battle has not been lost. Of course this is risky - our very lives depend on it - and the bad guys will no doubt win a few more clashes yet.
So yes, I believe that we should - and can - make a better world. And in deciding what better worlds can be, I believe we need the freedom to explore new desires and to change our minds. I believe we need to know we can change. I believe we need the ability to be many as well as one. I believe that we need to understand we have to get back up after being forced down. I believe we need hope.








This certainly resonates with my own wondering about how Situationism is being applied to locative media and pervasive computing. I have noted in the past that I'm troubled by the use of superficial Situationism to justify playful design practices rather than for socially and culturally critical approaches to technology and urban life. I've also expressed bewilderment at the lack of discussion about how the structure of GPS, absolute positioning, computing algorithms etc. actually conflicts with more fluid (social and cultural) understandings of spatial experience.
Also:
Peak Oil and National Security: A Critique of Energy Alternatives by George Caffentzis
Especially interesting since I watched The End of Suburbia last night and am sitting here covered in blankets because the gas furnace broke during the night and our house is freezing.
After Plotnick's review, we learn that readers "aggressively challenge Plotnick's interpretation, arguing that Fabrizio's, rather than conforming "to the classic Italian nuclear-family structure," is "modeled on the homes of pre-Industrial Revolution middle-class Welsh miners": that Plotnick's "logic breaks down linguistically" since he has failed to consider the paradox that the odd-numbered noodles equal the combined total of the odd- and even-numbered noodles."
Plotnick replies:
This makes me laugh until tears stream down my face. Parodies are good.
If I am trying to get free of myself, where do I go? What do I take with me?
The obvious answer is to become nomadic, become rhizomatic. (Are there two words more often abstracted from D&G's work?!) In freeing myself from myself I can de-territorialise along any line of flight. I can continually become something, someone, else. I can take and leave what I want. I can resist becoming fixed, being re-territorialised.
I can also become voluptuous, even monstrous. Outside the lines. Excessive. Overflow.
I keep thinking about St. Pierre's comment about knowing that the requirements of her dissertation would "overwrite the fragile text" she had written in her head. I can also imagine my own dissertation suffocating, pinned down like an entomologist's rare damselfly. I can understand why she prefers "nomadic writing practices" - they allow her writing to resist (re)territorialisation.
If I were to present my dissertation as a linear document comprising introductions, theories, methodologies, data analyses, and conclusions it would not resemble or represent any of my actual experience in doing this research.
But if I want to write a nomadic dissertation - one in keeping with the last four years of my life - what would it look like? My blogs? (Yes and no.) Like Benjamin's Arcades Project? (Yes and no.) Like Latour's Aramis? (Yes and no.) Like the exquisite corpse? (Yes and no.) Like a metaphysical conceit? (Yes and no.)
Elizabeth St. Pierre, "Circling the Text: Nomadic writing practices" in The Qualitative Inquiry Reader, Norman Denzin & Yvonna Licoln (eds), pp. 51-70. London: Sage, 2002.
Thoughts?
This story quite nicely enacts the values and desires that characterise the current myth of pervasive computing - and I mean myth in the anthropological sense. Contrary to being false or fictional, cultural myths engage people's worldviews - our values, fears, hopes and beliefs. Myths also serve to explain or justify certain cultural practices, often in ways that allow them to appear timeless and morally just. In other words, they make what we believe and do seem 'normal' or 'natural'. Because of their normative role, critique is difficult and usually begins with problematising the taken-for-granteds in the story.
For example, in this video (and most other marketing campaigns) we are encouraged to believe that pervasive computing will make life "more convenient" and "richer", and also "deepen the bonds that link us together".
But nowhere does it explain how these technologies will actually be able to do that. And since myths often involve some sort of magical or fantastic intervention, it doesn't really matter how it happens - after all, at first glance, who doesn't want those things? The myth makes it seem as though this is what we have always wanted, and will always want, in life.
But is that true? For whom? When? And where?
Ask why convenience is important. Think about the data collection necessary to make those technologies work.
And who gets to decide what richer and deeper social relations mean?
(via)
I love manifestos. They remind me that I believe. They compel me to action.
Of course, a friend claimed yesterday - in no uncertain terms - that to have a conversation with me when I have submitted to a manifesto like the one above is a special kind of torture.
The problem, it seems to me, is that manifestos can be easily divorced from INTER-action.
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