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Education

Posted by moses @ 09:56 • , , , , • 0 comments


Every year it's the same. I would be lulled into thinking that there are possibilities here, that things will be different. This year, I actually convinced myself that I think positively now, that I will see things differently. I was even beginning to think that I may prefer to stay here instead of leaving again. But, in the end, I still feel the same way

The people are still the same. People might change since you've got to know them, but they'd never change again. Here, they are still indifferent. You can't rely on them to make the simplest of gestures unless they can see what's in it for them. In general, old friends tend to become nothing but a tiny blot in the paper of the mind, a memory of people who exist but who are of little concern to you now.

Every year, I learn a little more about how to live a largely solitary existence. When family became lost to me emotionally, I had friends. Now friends are merely a collection of acquaintances. You don't leave a place and expect to pay no price. Maybe some people can, but such are my blessings.

Each time, to stave off bitterness, I have to know that I've become better. I have to be able to say that I've become more self-sufficient. To achieve that, I have to turn again to philosophy. Only philosophy can teach you how to live alone and nonchalantly.

The strong person is an essentially solitary person. I have no need for friends, as they have no need for me.

The Commodification of Leisure, Part II: Mass Culture and Social Disorder

Posted by moses @ 07:26 • , , , , , , , • 1 comments


Part I

In the second part of this discussion of Adorno and Horkheimer's The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception, I conclude by building on the key observations made in the first part regarding mass culture and capitalist relations of production, sketching out a slightly different theory of mass culture. The latter is subsequently applied, partly with reference to Slavoj Žižek's Shoplifters of the World Unite, to a brief analysis of the social problems facing contemporary British society (although it applies similarly to many other contemporary societies) that culminated in the disturbances that occurred in the summer of 2011.


It has previously been postulated that mass culture celebrates both consumption and success within the capitalistic paradigm, the latter which revolves around its particular social relations of production. Success in this context, however, has to be seen in relation to consumption, for the market for status and identities in a capitalist society demands equivalence, which in turn demands objective measurability. As such, success is measured by what is called 'purchasing power' and its instantiation in the form of the consumption of goods and services.

At the same time, the association between consumption and success also has its implications on consumption—while it has been suggested that consumption promises an inauthentic easy form of happiness, it is only always easy in a metaphysical sense, inasmuch as happiness as a concept, as Adorno conceives of it, is always being sought rather than readily found. In practice, consumption is by no means always attainable, particularly in forms that are socially valued and identified with success.

Yet, in spite of the relative difficulty of socially-valued consumption, mass culture must nevertheless persist in tempting audiences with it in order to maintain their interest and, consequently, the industries that depend on it. This creates a harsh paradox in which consumption is sold as an easy and attainable pleasure that is, on the contrary, more difficult to accomplish than it is made out to be, and must be so in order to maintain a degree of exclusivity that upholds the social value of consumption.

The contrast between the expectations generated by mass culture and economic realities in turn leads to social tension, as segments of society are continually being seduced by the promise of socially-valued consumption without the means to engage in it to substantial extent. And this phenomenon may have serious practical consequences for society: For example, the violence and the looting that occurred in London and a few other English cities can be understood as at least partly the result of the frustrations engendered by mass culture in its celebration of consumption and of success as measured by consumption.

That is not to say that there is a simple causal relationship between mass culture and social unrest in contemporary capitalist society. Discontent may, at least initially, emerge as movements of resistance, some of which express themselves in benign ways.

Yet what Žižek calls the "impotent rage and despair [that is] masked as a display of force" and the "consumerist desire violently enacted when unable to realise itself in the ‘proper’ way" (2011) seems manifestly connected to the influence of mass culture. The latter's power may not be as absolute as the Frankfurt School asserts. However, unless we choose to regard the looters simply as human beings who became "beasts" (Žižek, 2011) on their own accord, we must see that mass culture, in wielding significant influence over the modern psyche through the pervasiveness of mass media and through its relentless and seductive celebration of consumption, helps to create an impetus for them to go out and take what they want. Moreover, on a fundamental level, the 'anti-social' act of looting is partly one of lashing out against the fundamental tenet of capitalist society that is property rights, the legal framework that maintains the exclusivity of material ownership and socially-valued consumption.

In light of this, as a famous revolutionary once asked, what is to be done? There seems to be no option other than to continue resisting, but in a different way. While capitalism, presented to us by the messenger that is mass culture, "represents truth without meaning", giving us the freedom to choose only "between playing by the rules and (self-)destructive violence" (Žižek, 2011), we have to return to what is perhaps a less novel and less cynical way of thinking—we need to adopt a teleology of social and personal life that is both meaningful and lucidly aware of its humanity. We must become aware of the centrality not of particular things or even of transcendent things that may cloud our vision, but of human life itself and the importance of realising it in the fullest capacity possible.

I believe that this is the essence of the Frankfurt School critique of mass culture, or indeed of the Marxist critique of the capitalist relations of production. And this is a point that is not undermined by the dispute over facts about audience reception.

The Social Waxwork

Posted by moses @ 13:55 • • 0 comments


I wanted to write something about the riots and looting that happened in London recently, but at present I don't have the time to compose such a heavy piece. Besides, I've just realised something that I feel I need to write about.

One is never too young to complain about technology. After all, everyone knows that sometimes it's more of an inconvenience than an aid. On my part, I've realised just how bad social networking sites are for me.

There's been a lot of talk about the impact that social networking sites have on productivity and efficiency, but that's not the problem that I have. I don't spend much time on Facebook—the only social networking site I use regularly—although I do have it open most of the time so I can occasionally glance at it for a tiny relief from the boredom of work (or of trying to do work). The longest time I spend on it is at the beginning of each day when I catch up with what has been happening in my social network while I was asleep.

But that's where the problems begin. My so-called social network is an illusion. I know most of the people whose names appear in my newsfeed, but I barely know some of them, and many of them I've simply lost touch with. If this is a social scene, it's the most distant social scene I've ever seen. Here are people constantly telling me something about their lives in which I have absolutely no part and no stake. Why do I even bother reading? Social networking sites may be useful for keeping in touch with friends and acquaintances, but this isn't a way of keeping in touch with them.

It might satisfy my curiosity sometimes to read the newsfeed, but more often than not I have no real idea about what is happening in these people's lives. What people display on social networking sites is merely what they choose to display. So in terms of finding out about the ins-and-outs of others' lives, it's not very rewarding either.

This leads me to the reason why social networking sites are actually bad for me: Reading all about the fun that people are having is not good for my psychological well-being at a stage in my life where it's largely uninteresting. Maybe people go on Facebook and talk about or show how interesting their lives are because they're looking to enhance their status. Maybe it's just that at any one time, some people in my social network are bound to be having a good time. Maybe people do complain as much about how much their lives suck, but selectively I tend to pay attention to the positive things they show because people's problems aren't interesting. Whatever the reason for my seeing it, evidence of people having a good time intensifies disappointment with my own circumstances and reduces the satisfaction I feel with what I have.

The effect is to make me feel less happy than I think I could be. I start looking for reasons why my life is not as great. The truth is, of course, layered and complex, but I'd blame my school, my work, my luck—I've blamed various things for my relative misery. Then I'd start thinking of doing something about my life so I could be like one of those people I read about in my newsfeed. But if anything is clearly ineffective at helping you improve yourself, it's the rather vague, incomplete and sometimes misleading information about other people's lives that you see on social networking sites.

The irony is, the more uninteresting my life is at the moment, the more I need to look at Facebook for relief from boredom. And thus I would sometimes experience a downward spiral in which boredom becomes unhappiness and unhappiness leads to the loss of interest in my own life. I think I know by now that sometimes we just need to close the browser and go about living our own lives, but it remains to be seen whether I can resist the temptation of looking.

I suppose that's what social networks are—a collection of waxworks of human life. It's unreal, yet you can't resist looking in order to compare it with the real.

If this sounds perilously close to our obsession with celebrities, maybe that's because it is. So here's one more thought: Maybe a social networking site functions like a tabloid, but one that affords ordinary people the chance to be celebrities in their own right through the gossip mill that is the newsfeed.

Now that's an idea—people don't only worship celebrities; they also like to see celebrities brought down to earth in the tabloids. So I guess I have two options: I could simply close the browser; or I could pay more attention to the whining I see on my newsfeed and feel the schadenfreude. I have to say, that's a tough choice.

Living death

Posted by moses @ 16:03 • • 0 comments


I think there are exists two broad ways of tackling life in the middle class consciousness. Both are geared towards consumption, but both go about achieving it differently. The first and more traditional way is associated with the 'Protestant ethic' and involves delaying consumption. It looks at the economic rewards of doing so, namely interest earned by money saved or invested and, more importantly, the accumulated material wealth that can be enjoyed without worry after retirement.

The second way seeks instant or near-instant gratification through consumption. This younger and more hedonistic approach stands in opposition towards the older way, seeking to rebuff the latter's firm demeanour and re-evaluating life as something that is lived moment-by-moment and not (entirely) towards some final end.

Those who subscribe to the first approach disapprove of the other's foolish and unrestrained ways, while those who subscribe to the second approach regard the former in return as boring and straitlaced people who do not know how to live.

As I am more familiar with the first approach, having been brought up in a household that subscribes to the Protestant ethic, it forms the locus of the following thoughts.

Those who prefer the hedonistic lifestyle are absolutely correct. Although the general pre-eminence of a 'Protestant ethic', as described by Weber, is questionable, it exists at least in a hyperreal sense as a kind of personal ideology to some. The Protestant character of the ethic stems from what Nietzsche derided as a preoccupation with the afterlife, whereby one spends one's life in preparation for an eternal life that is to come—a teleology of death, so to speak. In a similar sense, some would focus a large part of their earthly efforts on preparing for the future, namely for the time of retirement, when one is no longer as capable of hard work.

Little or nothing else matters beside this goal. Little else is of value. All their lives they look for that elusive final happiness. When their plans have finally come to fruition in this life, when they can show off their hard-earned wealth and berate other people, they may seem to be a picture of success. But a life of misery may well belie that exterior.

Perhaps they are just incredibly patient people who are always contented along the way. But it seems more likely that they are simply unhappy people. It's no surprise—a teleology of death tends not to bring life to its believers.

Authentically false

Posted by moses @ 11:48 • • 0 comments


I'm sure we have, as consumers, critics and individuals, expended effort, time and money to look for the authentic. As tourists, we sometimes look for the authentic experience of a place; as gastronomes, we look for authentic cuisine; as individuals, we look for authenticity in matters of identity. These are but a few of the myriad instances in which we search for authenticity.

Yet, what do we mean by 'authentic'? Does authenticity exist at all? Sometimes we may even be sure that we have found it; but have we, really?

I believe that the notion of authenticity can be deconstructed or demythologised in the manner of Barthes. But why stop at revealing the class influences behind it? Studies on diasporas and postcolonial theory have also shown that the notion of authenticity is fraught with difficulties. But is there nothing more to it than the workings of ideology or a kind of collective consciousness?

Here, I want to explore the meaning of authenticity as it is cognised by the individual, to find out more about what authenticity means to each of us, if it actually means anything at all.

To a significant extent, the search for the natural parallels the search for the authentic, providing a reference with which we can understand the latter—we simply have to substitute the goal of a natural state with the goal of the original state of a human activity or creation. Hence, when we look for the authentic, we are looking for the original condition of something man-made.

The search for an original condition indicates the existence of a history. If something that we use or adopt is in its original condition, we would not need to find its original condition. However, in addition, if the history of the type of object or the practice being considered is a short one, then it is likely that we would merely be conservative in choosing to stick to the original—in other words, the notion of authenticity is not likely to be involved at all. Hence, something has to have a relatively long history or, more precisely, has to have undergone many transformations before we would be interested in rediscovering its original form.

But how often can we find the original state of something that has undergone many transformations? Human beings modify and reappropriate the things they create to fit their environment and their own uses. After numerous transformations, the original condition of something may not be knowable or recognisable to us. In instances where we think that we have found something authentic, chances are we have not found something that is in its original condition. So does authenticity have anything to do with the original condition?

To answer this question, consider the fact that some people object to the conducting of major restoration work on ruins on grounds that the ruins would lose their authenticity. It does not seem to matter that restoration work might, ironically, bring a ruin closer to the condition of its original structure. In this light, what is so authentic about their 'authentic' unrestored forms? The quality of authenticity, therefore, has a curious tendency to be unrelated to the original condition of the object concerned.

If so, what can authenticity be reliably said to describe? I think it is precisely that authenticity is a vague and to some extent illusory concept that it is so conveniently used. While there might not be sufficient reason to be loyal to originals as simply originals, there are reasons to prefer the authentic when authenticity also connotes superiority. In fact, my contention is that the condition of being original only matters insofar as it provides a reason for claiming the superiority of an object—it is in claiming the superiority of an object that people are actually interested. Authenticity is thus another label that is frequently used as a means of distinction without necessarily denoting an innate characteristic of objects. In other words, the notion of authenticity is quite arbitrary.

In this light, I think we can certainly afford to be less concerned about authenticity. The next time you are tempted to go further for something authentic, think about saving your resources for something really good.

Death to the patriot!

Posted by moses @ 15:59 • • 0 comments


Often, I would read about things that make me embarrassed of even downright ashamed of my country. I'm aware of its rather dirty history, and I don't have such faith in it to be certain that it's not involved in some reprehensible business today. In this light, is there any place for patriotism?

I find it amazing how people get up in arms over criticism of their country. Some of them do not even care if the criticism holds some truth. That or they are simply convinced that it is false. Perhaps to them, their country can do no wrong. What is the source of such touchy pride?


I'd like to say that it's because these people are aware of the historical significance of their statehood, because they truly understand how it compares to the alternatives. But that is a distant knowledge, if it can be grasped at all. Rather, I suspect the source is found in 'education' and propaganda, in the meanings they imbue through symbolic power and in the paranoid alternative scenarios that they plant in people's minds.

It is patently ridiculous that the paraphernalia and icons of national identification are treated with such reverence, so much so that acts that indicate disrespect towards them may be subject to legal sanction. These symbols are said to have a unifying function, yet in affording them true iconic status, the real things that they might have stood for become overlooked, relegated into the obscurity reserved for complex ideas that seem difficult for the minds of the brash to hold.

Thus we have the flag, the lion and what-not, symbols that are regularly wheeled out to summon feelings of pride and attachment so the masses can cheer as they did for kings. These are closely associated with the conception of the nation, together with and sometimes more prominently than real things such as community and solidarity with your fellowmen. They are mere noise, the pop of party poppers and the drunken singing of anthems before the wars that kill citizens in the name of the fatherland.

Far from being its defender, the unthinking patriot who is swayed by these icons, by pithy calls to augment the glory of the nation, is a danger to the community. It is the patriot who gives strength to hegemony and oppression. In his blindness, he may allow all manner of evil and political deception to come to pass. What's more, he may play the role of a soldier and marshal for them, actively aiding them and coercing his countrymen. Hence, if there is one slogan that we must have for patriotism, let it be "Death to the patriot!” 

Patriotism in peacetime is as useful as anger is while one is resting.

The Last Man

Posted by moses @ 02:11 • • 0 comments


Life is beautiful—so much so that there's little need to change it in any significant way. Such is the sentiment that I feel is predominant in the middle class public sphere, to the extent that, apart from a handful of disparate issues on the agenda, there is little prospect for active participation in social transformation.
"We have discovered happiness"—say the last men, and blink thereby.
This Nietzschean imagery seems particularly apt if we conceive of modern consumer society as the endpoint of a grand enlightenment project, namely that of turning human beings into masters of their own fates—beginning with mastery over nature through scientific progress (which is still ongoing), and arguably taken to the fullest extent in the Marxist vision of the human mastery over its own labour power.

This endpoint does not mark the fulfilment of the project, however. It seems that while science is still moving irresistibly forward, there is no longer much impetus to expand this project into other domains of human life. We have stopped, it seems, because life is good enough. Material conditions for the large middle classes in wealthier societies are sufficient for the pursuit of individual happiness; so what else do we need?

With the notion of success measured primarily in terms of the accumulation of material goods and perhaps influence, and now that pleasure as a chief mode of happiness is easily attainable, 'structural adjustment' is only used in a macroeconomic and financial sense. The drive for revolution dissipates in the humdrum of daily work and entertainment, drowned out by television and music. It's an uneventful and perhaps even blissful death.

Thus, it is perhaps the case that human agency can only, at least in present times, play but a small part in historical change. Mass action is generally precipitated by external changes and not vice versa. I think this certainly has implications on participation in social organisation, implications that are, unfortunately, less than inspiring.