I was trying to explain this book to a friend today - and it is hard to explain this book. Not least because it is so short and yet overflowing with ideas. In fact, it is it almost feels like sitting in front of someone who is shooting a machine-gun directly at you. I've had to read this book three times and I still feel like I've hardly scratched the surface of what it has to say. But he has cost me a small fortune already - I've bought another two of his books today and given they were about 60 pages long, we're talking something like 50 cents a page - which is really obscene and very nearly enough to stop me buying the damn things in the first place. Although given his distaste for consumerism, you actually don't need to be a philosopher to smell irony rotting away somewhere in that story.
This guy can think. Still, there was a part of me that wanted him to tell me all this, but to do it in another 2-300 pages so I could have time to keep up with him. I'm serious, you know when someone says that you finish a book feeling out of breath? Well, if there is one thing I've learnt in life it is that is mostly bollocks, but in this case it barely covers the level of exhaustion. I'm starting this review by saying that I'm not going to do justice to this book. What you're getting here a summary of a haiku - so, by necessity, I'm leaving out more than I'm leaving in.
He starts by talking about the relationship between respect and spectacle. Respect is from the Latin to 'look back on' - now, there's something I'd never noticed before, but as soon as he said that it all seemed obvious. Respect is the opposite of spectacle, because respect comes from a place within you that looks out the other - spectacle is a display of self, and as such is a form of narcissism. When we lose respect for someone it is because what we see in them (of them) looking back over our thoughts of that person is something that we are not able to look beyond. To try to given a clearer example, if the other person has, for instance, had an affair, our ability to look over the story of their lives we construct in our minds might not be able to see anything other than that single event. We lose respect for them because what they have done blinds us to the other parts of their story. And we do this so frequently - is it at all possible to think of Lee Harvey Oswald outside of his firing of a single bullet from an rifle into an afternoon in Texas? All of the light of our looking back on what Oswald means to us is crushed through the prism of that one instant in his life, and so his life made up of a near infinity of such instants is evaluated and re-evaluated according to the logic of that one instant.
Late modern capitalism has changed us fundamentally into creatures who are curiously 'free'. We have moved from 'subjects' (in Foucault's double sense of being both the agents who cause all actions and as those who are subjugated by society) to have now become 'projects'. That is, we have become 'self-exploiting' in the sense that for us to become successful we need to turn our lives into exemplars of success. We need to constantly look out for how we can improve ourselves and to self-overcome. In fact, we are imprisoned by our very projects to self-improve.
All this is made worse by the fact that we have been smashed into atoms by late-capitalism. The proudest achievement of late-capitalism is to have created a world of individuals - but this is also its greatest assault upon us. As such it is one that we not only willingly accept, but rather that we embrace as the only form of our being that is possible. We seem to be incapable of conceiving of ourselves as anything than individuals. We do not know how to be citizens or members of a social class or any group other than swarms of individuals, acting together, perhaps, but not really in concert.
The vision of the perfect society imagined in early modern capitalism was that of the panopticon. This was a kind of prison where each prisoner was isolated from all the other prisoners in a circular building of individual cells that looked out into a central courtyard where the guard-house stood in a tower. None of the prisoners could see if the guard was ever there - but, since the guard had unimpeded visual access into every cell in the prison, the prisoners had to assume that they are being constantly observed. The God-like prison guard can eventually disappear - the prisoners eventually learn to self-regulate and to internalised the 'rules'.
However, today the panopticon does not hold in the same way, even as a metaphor for our society. Firstly, while we certainly remain individuals, we are not restricted from communicating with those around us. In fact, quite the opposite. It is the fact we are constantly on display (as part of the spectacle of social media) that forces us to conform. And this is worse than that of the panopticon in the sense that we are not only our own prison guards, which is the ultimate aim of the panopticon, but rather than there merely being a guard who remains forever hidden, we have become the guard, and stand in full view of every other prisoner, naked and watched over by all those around us. And they too are in the centre of their own panoptic prison in reverse.
Except, this is too easy a way to describe what we have become, because we are not merely naked, we are also virtually ghosts. We can also be nameless and faceless. Today we are incapable of rage, we are only capable of outrage. Rage requires us to have an understanding of what needs to change and the anger that would motivate us to affect change. But we are now a swarm, not a crowd, or a class, or a movement. All we are capable of is a kind of lashing out as individuals at other individuals. We can't sustain the depth of thought or anger that would be necessary to see beyond transgressions, to see the social conditions that made the transgressions inevitable. We don't engage in revolutions, rather we form shit-storms. We spill out bile toward those we dislike, those who have fallen from grace, and this expends itself in outrage - but since something more fundamental needs to change, our outrage merely covers what ought to have feed our rage.
And since there is no real 'we' - 'our rage' can't exist anyway. Our atomisation makes us impotent and it is our impotence that defines us.
Throughout this book he gives the most remarkable examples. One is of a horse that could count - you could say to it, 'what are five and three' and the horse would stamp its foot only to stop at eight. But it was found that the horse did this by detecting the anxiety of the 'audience' in anticipation as the horse reached the right number and so the horse would respond to this anxiety by stopping. Then the horse would have this behaviour reinforced by receiving the praise of those observing this miracle. In so many senses we are becoming less aware of the true feelings of those around us than was this horse.
The world, in becoming an over-abundance of information, is being hidden by this very abundance. He talks of the implications of Google Glass and the worlds such a device produces. As he says, referring back to Heidegger, the truth likes to hide. That is, truth needs to be uncovered and never comes in a mass, but, like a diamond, needs to be dug out of its hiding place. But our world of information presents us with the exact opposite of this. And everything in life is then forced to conform to this digital nature of understanding, a nature that is ultimately arithmetical. We count the number of friends we have on FaceBook, we count the number of likes we receive from them as a measure of our worth and of their fondness for us… but, as he says so beautifully, friendship is an account, not anything that can be counted. Narrative, the story that friendship requires to be true friendship, requires a history, but there is a real sense in late capitalism that history no longer exists, there is only the project of ourselves that we are obsessed with creating and that project is only ever realised in the present.
We no longer want to be represented, rather, we want to present ourselves to the world. And this is interesting too in relation to how Foucault saw modern social relations. For Foucault power and knowledge were two sides to the same coin. Those with power structure knowledge in ways that enhance their power and that in turn structures what counts as knowledge. But this means that to have power implies withholding knowledge - for the ability to withhold knowledge enhances the power you can wield. But today we live in a world of instant information and 'transparency'. And that makes, again, all of us the centre of the network - that is, we don't want to be represented by someone else, we want to present ourselves unmediated by anyone else - and the new media allows this unmediated presentation of our self. But as such, it makes democracy and politics virtually impossible today.
There is so much more to this book - if you can get your hands on it I really suggest you do. This is less of a review than it is a warning - this book is hard going, he assumes an awful lot of knowledge on the part of the reader and he takes very little time filling in the blanks of the bits he assumes you ought to already know. But all the same, this is seriously interesting stuff.