Code Warriors
Arthur and
Marilouise Kroker
Bunkering In and Dumbing Down
Electronic technology terminates with the radically divided self: the
self, that is, which is at war with itself. Split consciousness for a culture
that is split between digital- and human flesh.
A warring field, the electronic self is torn between contradictory
impulses towards privacy and the public, the natural self and the social self,
private imagination and electronic fantasy. The price for reconciling the
divided self by sacrificing one side of the electronic personality is severe. If
it abandons private identity and actually becomes media (Cineplex mind, IMAX
imagination, MTV chat, CNN nerves), the electronic self will suffer terminal
repression. However, if it seals itself off from public life by retreating to an
electronic cell in the suburbs or a computer condo in the city, it quickly falls
into an irreal world of electronic MOO-room fun within the armoured windows.
Suffering electronic amnesia on the public and its multiple viewpoints, going
private means that the electronic self will not be in a position to maximize its
interests by struggling in an increasingly competitive economic field.
The electronic self is in a bind. Seeking to immunize itself against
the worst effects of public life, it bunkers in. It becomes a pure
will-for-itself: self-dwelling, closed down, ready to sacrifice all other
interests for the sake of its own immunity. Bunkering in is the epochal
consciousness of technological society in its most mature phase. McLuhan called
it the "cool personality" typical of the TV age, others have spoken of
"cocooning" away the 90s, but we would say that bunkering in is about something
really simple: being sick of others and trying to shelter the beleaguered self
in a techno-bubble. Dipping back to Darwin, West Coast libertarians like to talk
today about "survival of the electronically fittest."
However, at the same time that the electronic self bunkers in as a
survival strategy, it is forced out of economic necessity to stick its head out
of its techno-bubble and skate to work. Frightened by the accelerating speed of
technological change, distressed by the loss of disposable income, worried about
a future without jobs, and angry at the government, the electronic self
oscillates between fear and rage. Rather than objectify its anger in a critical
analysis of the public situation, diagnosing, for example, the deep relationship
between the rise of the technological class and the loss of jobs, the electronic
self is taught by the media elite to turn the "self" into a form of
self-contempt. Dumbing down becomes the reality of the late 20th century
personality. Dumbing down? In its benign form, that's Gump with his box of
chocolates and Homer Simpson barfing doughnuts. In its predatory form, it's
everyday life: cons and parasites and computer presidents and killer Jeeps on
city streets. Or, like in Pulp Fiction, maybe it's time to "bring
out the gimp."
The bunker self is infected by ressentiment against those it holds
responsible for what ails it (feminists, African-Americans, immigrants, single
mothers on welfare); dumbing down is the last blast of slave consciousness
(servile to authority; abusive to those weaker than it). Petulant and given over
to bouts of whining about the petty inconveniences, bunkering in knows no ethics
other than immediate self-gratification. Hard-eyed and emotionally
cryogenicized, dumbing down means oscillating between the psychological poles of
predator and clown. Between the illusion of immunity and the reality of the
process-self, that's the radically divided state of the electronic personality
at the end of the 20th century. Just in time to catch the virtual screen opening
up on the final file of the millennium, the bunker ego and the dumbed down self
are the culmination of what Jean-Paul Sartre predicted: a schizoid self which is
simultaneously in-itself and for-itself, an unreconciled self flipping between
illusion and self-contempt. Today, it's hip to be dumb, and smart to be turned
off and tuned out.
The psychological war zone of bunkering in and dumbing down is the
actual cultural context out of which emerges technological euphoria. Digital
reality is perfect. It provides the bunker self with immediate, universal access
to a global community without people: electronic communication without social
contact, being digital without being human, going on-line without leaving the
safety of the electronic bunker. The bunker self takes to the Internet like a
pixel to a screen because the information superhighway is the biggest theme park
in the world: more than 170 countries. And it's perfect too for dumbing down.
Privileging information while exterminating meaning, surfing without engagement,
digital reality provides a new virtual playing-field for tuning out and turning
off. For example, when CITY-TV (Toronto) recently announced a merger with
Voyager to produce new multi-media productions, its first product of choice was
the creation of an "electronic rumpus room." Playtime for the new electronic
kids on the block.
What's better, with the quick privatization of the Internet and the
Web, the predatory self doesn't have to risk brief dashes in and out of public
life to grab what it wants. In virtual capitalism, the predatory self goes fully
digital, arms itself with the latest in graphical interfaces, bulks up the
profile of its homepage, and goes hunting for digital gold. Schumpeter might
have talked about "creative destruction" as the contemporary phase of transiting
to a virtual economy, but the predatory self knows better. Turbulence in the
field means one thing only: the rest position is terminal, victory goes to those
who warp jump the fastest to cyberspace. Working on the tried but true formula
of "use and abandon," the predatory self does the ultimate dumbing-down trick:
it sheds its flesh (for cyber-skin), its mind (for distributive intelligence),
its nerves (for algorithmic codes), its sex organs (for digital seduction), its
limbs (for virtual vectors of speed and slipstream access), and its history (for
multiplex hard ram). Virtual Gump.
Opening Out and Smartening Up: Two Worlds
Digital reality contains alternative possibilities towards
emancipation and domination.
As a manifestation of the power of the virtual class, digital reality
has definitely plunged the world into a great historical crisis. Here
cybertechnology is a grisly process of harvesting nature and culture, and
particularly our bodies, for fast-rendering through massive virtual
imaging-systems. Not a technology that we can hold outside of ourselves as an
inanimate object, cybertechnology has actually come alive in the form of
virtualization. It seeks to take possession of the material world, and to dump
material reality into the electronic trashbin in favor of what has been
eloquently described as a "realm inhabited by the disembodied." Cybertechnology
creates two worlds, one virtual, the other material, separate and unequal. The
radical division between these two worlds is becoming more apparent every day.
The struggle to relink technology and ethics, to think cybertechnology
in terms of the relationship of virtuality to questions of democracy, justice,
social solidarity, and creative inquiry promises a path of reconciliation. Of
course, we don't think of the body or nature as outside technology, but as part
of a field of dynamic and often deeply conflicting relations in which, for
example, the body itself could be construed as a "technology." This being so,
the key ethical question might be: what are the possibilities for a virtual
democracy, virtual justice, virtual solidarity, and virtual knowledge? Rather
than recover ethics outside of cybertechnology, our position is to force ethics
to travel deeply and quickly inside the force-field of cybertechnology, to make
our ethical demands for social justice, for the reconciliation of flesh and
spirit, rub up against the most demonic aspects of virtual reality. In this we
practice Foucault's prescription for reading Nietzsche, that honors a writer (or
a new ethics) by forcing ethics to bend, crackle, strain, and groan under the
violence and weight of our insistent demands for meaning.
Post-Bodies
We are living in a decisive historical time: the era of the
post-human. This age is typified by a relentless effort on the part of the
virtual class to force a wholesale abandonment of the body, to dump sensuous
experience into the trashbin, substituting instead a disembodied world of empty
data flows. This body assault takes different forms: from the rhetoric of the
"information superhighway" (of which we are the pavement) to the recently
announced effort by Microsoft and McCaw Cellular to develop a global multi-media
network of satellites for downloading and uplinking the archival record of the
human experience into massive, centrally controlled data bases. The virtual
elite always present the "electronic frontier" in the glowing, ideological terms
of heightened accessibility, increased (cyber-knowledge), more "rapid delivery
of health and education to rural environments" or better paying high-tech jobs.
In reality what they are doing is delivering us to virtualization.
It isn't a matter of being pro- or anti-technology, but of considering
the consequences of virtual reality when it is so deeply spoken of in the
language of exterminism. In the age of the virtual class, digital technology
works to discredit bodily experience, to make us feel humiliated and inferior to
the virtual rendering of the body in its different electronic formats, from
computers and television to the glitzy and vampirish world of advertising. The
attitude that the body is a failed project takes us directly to a culture driven
by suicidal nihilism. Remember Goya: imagination without reason begets monstrous
visions. Those "monstrous visions" are the designs for better electronic bodies
that vomit out of the cyber-factories of the Silicon Valleys of the world every
day.
Digital reality has given us artificial life. Not artificial life as
an abstract telematic experience fabricated by techno-labs, but artificial life
as life as it is actually lived today. Cybertechnology has escaped the digital
labs, and has inscribed itself on our captive bodies. In artificial life, the
body is a violent uncertainty-field. What could be spoken of in the 1930s only
in the language of high-energy physics, particularly Heisenberg's concept of
uncertainty, has now been materialized in society as the schizoid body: the
body, that is, as an unstable field flipping aimlessly between opposing poles:
bunkered in yet dumbed down. This is the symptomatic sign of what we call the
digital body.
The New Power Elite
There are two dominant political tendencies in the 1990s: a global
"virtual class" that presents the particular interests of technotopia as the
general human interest, and the equally swift emergence of ever more grisly
forms of conservative fundamentalism in response to the hegemony of the virtual
class.
The virtual class is composed of monarchs of the electronic kingdom.
Its members like to gather in digital nests, from Silicon Valley and Chiba City
to the European cyber-grid running from Munich to Grenoble. Deeply authoritarian
in its politics, it seeks to exclude from public debate any perspective that
challenges the ruling ideology of technotopia. Like its historical predecessors,
the early bourgeoisie of primitive capitalism, the virtual class is driven by
the belief that a cybernetically-steered society, of which it is the guiding
helmsman, is coeval with the noblest aspirations of human destiny. Listen to the
rhetoric of the virtual class that drowns the mediascape. A few years ago, at
Silicon Graphics, Clinton preached the technotopian gospel that the "information
superhighway" is the telematic destiny of America; Gore continues to hype the
"interactive society" as the next stage of human evolution; Microsoft presents
its strategic plans for a world wide web of digital satellites in the soft
language of doing a big service for humanity (William Gates said his new
satellite system would allow educational and health services to be delivered to
previously inaccessible rural areas); and all multinational business and most
governments these days commonly chant the refrain that trade policy should be
decoupled from human rights issues. For example, faced with American business
opposition to his executive order linking China's "Most Favored Nation" status
to improvements in human rights, Clinton instantly collapsed, announcing that he
had "deep regrets" about his own executive order. Of course, in the mid-90s the
gospel of technotopia is the bible of virtual libertarians, Newt Gingrich most
of all.
While the ruling masters of the virtual class in countries ranging
from the United States, Japan, Western Europe and Canada represent the
territorial centre of digital power, the rest of the world is quickly
remaindered. Based in labor that is not a fungible resource, the middle- and
working classes in all countries are repeatedly victimized by the virtual class.
Today, labor is disciplined by the representatives of the virtual class who
occupy the highest policy-making positions of government. As the dominant
ideology of the 90s, the virtual class institutes draconian anti-labor policies
mandating "labor adjustment," "free trade," and belt-tightening, and all of this
backed up by a media mantra calling for global economic competition, an end to
pay equity, and for a "meaner and leaner" workplace.
For those outside the labor force - the jobless, the disenfranchised,
the politically powerless, the surplus class - the disciplinary lessons
administered by the virtual class are bitter. And it fits so perfectly with the
psychology of bunkering in. Consider the silence at the terrorism in Haiti where
in a macabre replay of Machiavelli's strategies for stable political rule, the
tortured bodies of political activists had their faces cut off, were thrown into
the main streets of Port-au-Prince, and left there under the glaring sun for
several days. The police did not allow anyone to take away the bodies. Pigs ate
the rotting flesh. The lesson is clear: the state has all-pervasive power to the
point that even the identities of its victims after death can be effaced,
letting the spirits of the dead roam in endless anguish. This is diabolical
power at the end of the twentieth-century, and still not a humanitarian peep
from the political managers of the virtual class. Not until the shores of
America were filled with "illegal" Haitian refugees did the Clinton
Administration react. Or consider the moral culpability of the so-called
"creative leadership" of the virtual societies of the West who continue to turn
a blinkered eye to the genocide that takes place in the streets of Sarajevo
every day. Would it be different if Bosnia had oil, a Nike running shoe factory,
or, even better, a Microsoft chip mill?
The virtual elite has the ethics of the hangman, all hidden under the
soft hype of the data superhighway as new body wetware for the twenty-first
century.
Dominant Ideology
Recently, we received the following letter from Nate McFadden, a
freelance reporter for a San Francisco magazine:
In the SF Bay Guardian's article on Wired, a
former director of The Well, Cliff Figallo, commented on the colonization of
cyberspace. "To some of us, it's like the staking of claims in the Old West.
Perhaps it's the manifest destiny of cyberspace."
This remark seems to verify, at least a little, the lack of moral awareness
rampant in the techno-elite. For me, the apparently unironic usage of the
expression "manifest destiny" indicates a mindset that avoids historical
antecedents, and is free from any critical examination of motive and result.
A little later, we received this email message from Mark Schneider,
Vancouver bureau chief for CTV:
Check out the latest issue of The Nation (July 3), "Whose Net
Is It?" by Andrew Shapiro.
"You probably didn't notice, but the Internet was sold a few months ago.
Well, sort of: The Federal government has been gradually transferring the
backbone of the US portion of the global computer network to companies such as
IBM and MCI as part of a larger plan to privatize cyberspace. But the crucial
step was taken on April 30, when the National Science Foundation shut down its
part of the Internet... [that's left] the corporate giants in charge..."
The virtual elite is a mixture of predatory capitalists and visionary
computer specialists for whom virtualization is about our disappearance into
nothingness. We are talking about a systematic assault against the human
species, a virtual war strategy where knowledge is reduced to data storage
dumps, friendship is dissolved into floating cyber-interactions, and
communication means the end of meaning. Virtualization in the cyber-hands of the
new technological class is all about our being dumbed down. In a very practical
way, the end of the 20th century is characterized by the laying down of hardware
(virtual railway tracks) across the ever-expanding electronic frontier. Of
course, who controls the hardware will dominate the soft(ware) culture of the
21st century. That's why Microsoft is the first of all the 21st century
corporations: it's already put the Operating System in place and now, through
Microsoft Network, it's set to actually be the Internet.
All of this is being done without any substantive public debate, to
the background tune, in fact, of three cheers for the virtual home team and its
hyped-ideology of cybertechnology as emancipation. Manifest Destiny has come
inside (us), and we are the once and future victims of the big (electronic)
stick.
Manifest (Virtual) Destiny
The resuscitation of the doctrine of Manifest Destiny as the bible of
the virtual class has already taken place. However, it's no longer Manifest
Destiny as an American war strategy for the endocolonization of North America,
but a more vicious doctrine of digital inevitability that is being put in place
around the globe by the technological elite. In this mutation of Manifest
Destiny, the world is quickly divided into privileged virtual economies, passive
storage depots for cheap labor, and permanently slaved-nations. While the
citizens of the lead virtual societies certainly suffer massive psychological
repression and suppression (of social choices), countries which are patched into
the political economy of virtual reality as sources of cheap manufacturing or as
product assembly labor suffer the form of domination particular to primitive
capitalism - "work or starve." For the citizens of the slaved-nations, from
Africa to Haiti, they are simply put under the coercive welfare wardship of a
newly militant United Nations and then erased from historical consciousness.
Like all empires before it, virtual reality begins with a blood-sacrifice.
Contradictions of the Virtual Class
It is not at all clear that the new technological class will win the
day. The will to virtuality is riddled with deep contradictions. Can the
offensive by the virtual class against human labor actually succeed in light of
both growing impoverishment and the crushing of life expectations for the young?
The rhetoric of digital reality speaks about the growing abundance of
high-paying jobs in the tech industry. Across the OECD, the reality is
dramatically different: every country that has instituted policies promoting the
expansion of digital reality has witnessed a dramatic, and seemingly permanent,
increase in unemployment. Joblessness not just in the low- or no tech
industries, but massive layoffs and ruthless "restructurings" in the vaunted
digital industries themselves. No one bothered to tell us that digital reality
also deletes jobs! This is the dirty little secret that the masters of the
technological universe definitely don't want to talk about, and in their control
of the mediascape will never allow to be spoken. It's the
forbidden-to-be-thought truth that ruptures the seamless web of digital reality
as the dominant ideology of the 90s.
Can the offensive by the technological class against society in the
name of the moral superiority of digital reality be sustained in the midst of a
general social crisis that it has created? What will happen when digital
reality, this dynamic drive to planetary mastery in the name of technology,
actually begins to displace its creators - the virtual class?
Against the new technological class are ranged a series of critical
political forces: Net knowledgeable, technically astute, people who speak on
behalf of the new relations of digital reality rather than apologizing for the
old forces of commercial or governmental interests. Certainly Net surfers with a
(critical) attitude who attempt to make the "information superhighway" serve the
ethical human ends of solidarity, creativity, and democracy, but also all of
those social movements who both say "no" to the virtual class, and "yes" to
rethinking the human destiny. We have in mind aboriginal movements from North
and South America who make of the issue of land rights a fundamental
battleground of (durational) time against (virtualized) space, feminists who
have reasserted the identity of the body, the Green movement which is slowly
turning the tide on a global scale against the harvesting machine of corporate
capitalism, and those "body outlaws," bisexuals and gays and lesbians, who have
made of the politics of sexual difference a way of speaking again about the
possibility of human love.
Having said this, we are under no illusion about the fundamental
exterminatory character of the times. We exist now at a great divide: between a
fall into a new form of despotic capitalism on the one hand, and a world that
might be recreated ethically on the other. This is the life-and-death struggle
of our age.
Harvesting Flesh
Contemporary culture is driven onwards by the planetary drive towards
the mastery of nature. In Heidegger's chilling description, technology is
infected with the language of "harvesting." First, the harvesting of nature as
the physical world is reduced to a passive resource of exploitation. And second,
the harvesting of human flesh as (our) bodies and minds are reduced to a data
base for imaging systems. That's the contemporary human fate: to be dumped into
the waiting data archives for purposes of future resequencing. Some all Web
brains, others TV heads or designer logos, here minds as media screens, there
nerves as electronic impulses finely tuned to the rhythms of the digital world.
Consider TV: a war machine for colonizing the soft mass of the
electronic mind. Three tactical manoeuvres are always in play: Desensitization -
following exactly the same procedure used by the C.I.A. in training assassins,
TV desensitizes the electronic mind by repeatedly exposing it to scenes of
torture, corpses, and mutilation. By reducing the electronic mind of the
population to the deadened morality of the assassin, it preps the population for
its own future sacrifice in the form of body dumps; Infantilization - that's the
gradual media strategy for reducing us all to retro-children: perfect political
fodder for the growth of virtual- and retro-fascism); and Reenergization - left
to its own devices, the mediascape will always collapse towards its inertial
pole. That's why the media must constantly be reenergized (recharged?) by scenes
of sacrificial violence. In every war, there are victims and executioners. In
the television war machine, we are always both: victims (of the three tactical
manoeuvres of the mediascape), and executioners of an accidental range of
victims dragged across the cold screens for our moral dismissal (much like the
terminal judgment of the Roman masses in the amphitheatres of classical
antiquity).
Photography, cinema, TV, and the Internet are successive stages in
virtualization. Beginning with the simulacrum of the first photograph,
continuing with the scanner imaging-system of TV, and concluding (for the
moment) with the data archives of the Internet, human experience is fast-dumped
into the relays and networks of virtual culture. McLuhan was wrong. It is not
the technological media of communication as an extension of man; but the human
species as a humiliated subject of digital culture.
This is an excerpt from Arthur and Marilouise Kroker's
book Hacking the Future, New York: St. Martin's Press; Montreal:
New World Perspectives, 1996.