Wondering why digital everything isn’t the answer?

I really do hope that this COVID-19 event does make us rethink everything, and part of that has got to be a reconsideration of what we can and cannot do digitally.

Generally, I’d say we could do a lot more digitally, and while there are reasonable questions about whether digital activity is environmentally clean, there are clear advantages when it comes to things like saving on travelling time and energy for meetings and conferences.

I am currently attending a digital conference for the first time, and I have to say the flying time and hotel costs are brilliant. However there are some things that we cannot yet do digitally, and the happenstance interactions and embodied awareness experiences are severely missing from the digital experience.

This paper covers some of the ways in which digital experience fails to recapture lived experience, somewhat inevitably. I think its time has certainly come, as an argument, and i guess I’m just saying that if we really want to do something like live music, or a conference, well as a digital experience, we need to make sure that we are addressing some of the aspects of cult value, iteration, and interaction that digital tech often leaves behind.

Don’t get me wrong, I think doing things digitally offers up huge opportunities but we ought not neglect our humanity, our connections and our need for true public engagement and recognition in the process.

Sports has shut down, so here’s a new League Table…

Go to: https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/#countries 

Go to the ‘Total Cases’ column and order the countries from largest to smallest number of total cases. Right, this is the new league table. Whoever has the smallest number of total cases wins.

I know this might seem inappropriate but I’ve been trying to think of ways to get people I know to care about Coronavirus. For me, the idea that we have a collective goal is really important. A national campaign is hard to get behind when the notion of a real ‘Australianness’ is quite foreign to us. But a league table and a team speaks to everyone.

As a team member for Australia I’m up there, within touching distance of Brazil and Sweden (see?), which is a source of real motivation to work together to keep away from the worst names like USA and China.

The nation is a pretty empty signifier, but unfortunately it remains the best we’ve got as far as current statistics are concerned.  I believe there’s real potential in localising statistical analysis of new cases and creating local league table. Imagine if you could set Primary school communities, or Suburbs, against each other? Harness the feeling that you could actually contribute to the success of your team by being more vigilant and helping others to do so. The collected data could also be really helpful in tracing the progress of COVID 19.

Of course the game will disadvantage the underprivileged but it will also bring attention to those areas which lack adequate healthcare (USA I’m looking at you) or transparency (ahem, China). And after all, it’s just a game.

Nobody wins but some do better than others. It simply invites reflection on your choices and a way to positively orient your community thinking, you’re doing it for the team.

Thoughts on the coronavirus

Well there are quite a few things that this virus is bringing to mind and, while I listen to my workplace’s ‘townhall’ about how we’re going to deal with this, I’d like to get some of them down.

Nationalism is an embarrasment

Maybe I’m just speaking from an Australian perspective but I find that one of the most interesting things about COVID-19 is that it makes clear that we are a global community. While the recent bushfires indicated that decisions made around carbon production could effect us here in Australia, via global warming, that ‘problem’ was localised and rendered within the Australian nation, and confounded by the inability of our conservative government to honestly assess and act on the situation. COVID effects everyone, it will eventually become ‘part of the furniture’ and its spread indicates how intrinsically connected we are as a planet and a species; just as with global warming.

John Stuart Mill once said that ‘nationalism is a pox on humanity’ and I think that COVID has illustrated how humanity must deal with such poxes collectively. Moreover I am more than a little ashamed of how ‘Australians’ have reacted to the virus. Brawls over toilet paper, hoarding and general self indulgent panic is behaviour that is one million miles away from the national self image. Whereas I was raised thinking that the qualities that made Australia great were courage, community support and primarily ‘mateship and a fair go’, COVID has shown that the national character is now one of profound individualism and selfishness. I believe this has changed. I believe that Australian culture is not as Australian as it once was. When my Nana lived through the depression in Coolgardie they allowed families to share their house and camp on their verandah indefinitely; simply so they could help. Our ANZAC stories are replete with tales of soldiers who would not leave the battlefield without their mates, regardless of their own peril. I know COVID appears to be a slightly different situation but for people to be hoarding toilet paper in a city where there are yet to be any cases of community transmission does NOT speak of courage, mateship and a fair go. It speaks of profound selfish individualism and a cowardly panic inspired by global media. Overall it reflects upon an inability to think of your community or yourself as somehow distinct or different from the individualistic global order.

The neo-liberal world view is dangerous and inefficient

Which brings me to my next realisation. We have all become Americans, at the worst possible time. There is a global culture that has replaced Australian culture and it is that of small state, big individual, responsibilisation that suggests that community is meaningless, the individual matters. It’s here and it rules this place, I suspect it rules everywhere.

I feel very sorry for the US at this time when people’s inability to fund sick leave combined with their incapacity to pay for medical attention is liable to make COVID a particularly thorny problem. This system works to develop herd immunity as quickly as possible (because of, not despite, it’s terrible inefficiency) meaning the sick and the old die quickly and production can return to profitability. A strong social health system would only slow this process, allow more ‘weak’ people to live and be far more expensive. The economic value of refusing to care (in the most literal sense) cannot be refuted. It doesn’t shock me that the US government has taken this route; what shocks me is the extent to which their ideology has become ubiquitous and that the US population can’t see the value in spending some of their trillions on universal health care rather than junk for a military that is, like its health care, already far more expensive than everyone else’s.

Traditional gender stereotypes are still propagated in the most horrible ways

The Australian government is yet to close schools and one of the justifications for this is that they don’t want health care workers to have to stay at home to look after children. Now I can’t for the life of me imagine WHY health care workers would have to take care of children? Surely these health care workers have partners who could perform caring roles?

So the underlying issue is that health care workers are thought of as female and that family caregives are also imagined to be female. Here are the women in our lives being asked to double shift in quite the most impossible way. Of course, not all health care workers are female and not all family caregivers are female; but that’s sort of being forgotten, and ‘by and large’ these traditional gender roles remain unproblematic. Which is such bullshit.

Here’s a revolutionary idea. When the health of the entire community depends upon it, the CEO of BHP can take time off to care for children while their partner, who works in health can continue to do the health work that remains a priority to save lives. Gender is and should be irrelevant.

Are we seriously saying that we’ll endanger the health of our families and communities because we can’t imagine a man taking time off work to look after the kids? The fact that this statement is plausible speaks to the fact we really need to look at how we propagate gender roles, as well as how we underpay and underappreciate care work!

OK, rants over for now. As you can see COVID 19 has bought up a few beefs and I am hopeful that we might learn from this experience. Anyone who reads this, please stay safe and if you need anything to help you through this difficult time, please don’t be afraid to ask. I’ve got enough TP to share.

What I thought of ‘Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind’ by Yuval Noah Harari

Sapiens is one of those books that I’ve seen being read everywhere. As in, every time you’re on public transport or at a beach, someone seems engrossed in it. There have been a few of these books in my time, such as The Celestine Prophecy, The Secret, Bohos in Paradise, Sophie’s Choice and everything by Alain De Botton and Dan Brown. Sapiens was elevated above simple cult status by being recommended by John Hartley and my Hons student Rebekah Barnett. It was a worthy read in the sense that it was a beautifully crafted story; it didn’t answer all my questions about the history of humankind but it did make a few points that I found provocative and/or interesting, which I’ll spell out here without any commitment to  authorial fidelity.

The argument I found most interesting in this book was that the ascendancy of humans has been, to some extent, a result of their ability to get more energy out of the biosphere than previously possible. This theme is dealt with a number of times throughout the book but made particularly salient at a few points, such as when Harari decribes the wheat plant as a colonising force. Humans, he argues have come to serve the needs of wheat and rice in a manner that those genomes can actually be understood to be the colonising force; using humans like parasites to spread their seed and propogate their species. What is interesting about this for me is that the suggestion that this sort of thing does happen in evolution points toward a sort of ‘divine law’ of production that always sees greater production as an inherent good.

The precise nature of that production is not particularly clear – wheat and rice became the staple diet for humans not because it was a healthier choice – life spans actually shrank as nomadic foragers became stationary farmers; humans reduced the variety of their diet and the amount of exercise they needed to acquire food – which were unhealthy choices. However what was gained from the shift to staple crops was a concentration of calories. More energy could be produced more efficiently (and thus feed a growing, sedentary population).

What fascinates me about this topic is the ‘parasitic’ influence upon human evolution. Elsewhere Harari discusses memes and cultures in a similar way:

 A cultural idea – such as belief in Christian heaven above the clouds or communist paradise here on earth – can compel a human to dedicate his or her life to spreading that idea, even at the pice of death. The human dies, but the idea spread. According to this approach, cultures are not conspiracies concocted by some people in order to take advantage of others (as Marxists tend to think). Rather, cultures are mental parasites that emerge accidentally, and thereafter take advantage of all people infected by them. .. successful cultures are those that excel in reproducing their memes, irrespective of the costs and benefits to their human hosts. p.270

Another interesting point that Harari makes is that while the ‘arrow of history’ seems to suggest that Human ascendancy was somehow a foregone conclusion, deep anthropology makes it clear that we have actually succeeded through a variety of happy coincidences. For instance:

All modern attempts to stabilise the sociopolitical order have had no choice but to rely on either of two unscientific methods:
a. Take a scientific theory, and in opposition to common scientific practices,
declare that it is a final and absolute truth. This was the method used by Nazis
(who claimed that their racial policies were the corollaries of biological facts)
and Communists (who claimed that Marx and Lenin had divined absolute
economic truths that could never be refuted).
b. Leave science out of it and live in accordance with a non-scientific absolute truth.This has been the strategy of liberal humanism, which is built on a dogmatic belief in the unique worth and rights of human beings – a doctrine which has embarrassingly little in common with the scientific study of Homo sapiens. p.282

What this quote is discussing is the flaws of over determinism but what he’s summarising n the latter point is that the idea that ‘humans’ are in some sense ‘blessed’ or ‘unique’ is an error of judgment; an opinion which does fly in the face of a lot of the history of European philosophy, from Aristotle to Arendt. I don’t necessary agree with this very materialistic perspective; but Harari makes a strong argument for why it is the correct perspective from that materialist position.

Harari’s other great contribution in this book is to provide a quite bare bones analysis of capitalism. Capitalism, he declares, is the reason that Europe became the source of the scientific enlightenment (rather than many other sophisticated cultures that existed at the same time) (p. 349). I find this analysis quite reductive and his ignorance of scientific progress and approaches in the Islamic world prior to the European enlightenment seems a little Orientalist. However he makes a clear point about how capitalism – as the reinvestment of profit into improving the efficiency of production – has become a hegemonic system in the contemporary age. Simply because capitalism created the stable legal and technological systems to continuously improve production. The role of currency, banking and credit in this system is well explained and I feel one of the more useful contibutions of the book. The requirements of commerce, he explains, meant a similar need for freedom of commerce, stable government and tolerance of difference (p.354-365). Capitalism rewarded these systems because they were good for profit, good for growth and essentially good for production. He even points out how this system eventually eroded the relative strength of the community and family:

Parents are obliged to send their children to be educated by the state. Parents who are especially abusive or violent with their children may be restrained by the state. If need be, the state may even imprison the parents or transfer their children to foster families. Until not long ago, the suggestion that the state ought to prevent parents from beating or humiliating their children would have been rejected out of hand as ludicrous and unworkable. In most societies parental authority was sacred. Respect of and obedience to one’s parents
were among the most hallowed values, and parents could do almost anything they wanted, including killing newborn babies, selling children into slavery and marrying off daughters to men more than twice their age. Today, parental authority is in full retreat. Youngsters are increasingly excused from obeying their elders, whereas parents are blamed for anything that goes wrong in the life of their child. Mum and Dad are about as likely to get off in the Freudian courtroom as were defendants in a Stalinist show trial. p.404-405

This erosion of family and community has come with the elevation of the state systems necessary for capitalist growth; the production of a neo-liberal subject.

I’m going to end with two more lengthy quotes that impressed me ; the first a binary about how we imagine ‘progress’ that shows the flaws in each argument; and the second a reflection on what brings happiness which I feel is again, very worthy of repeating.

Though few have studied the long-term history of happiness, almost every scholar and layperson has some vague preconception about it. In one common view, human capabilities have increased throughout history. Since humans generally use their capabilities to alleviate miseries and fulfill aspirations, it follows that we must be happier than our medieval ancestors, and they must have been happier than Stone Age hunter-gatherers.

But this progressive account is unconvincing. As we have seen, new aptitudes, behaviours and skills do not necessarily make for a better life. When humans learned to farm in the Agricultural Revolution, their collective power to shape their environment increased, but the lot of many individual humans grew harsher. Peasants had to work harder than foragers to eke out less varied and nutritious food, and they were far more exposed to disease and exploitation. Similarly, the spread of European empires greatly increased the collective power of humankind, by circulating ideas, technologies and crops, and opening new avenues of commerce. Yet this was hardly good news for millions of Africans, Native Americans and Aboriginal Australians. Given the proven human propensity for misusing power, it seems naïve to believe that the more clout people have, the happier they will be.
Some challengers of this view take a diametrically opposed position. They argue for a reverse correlation between human capabilities and happiness. Power corrupts,  they say, and as humankind gained more and more power, it created a cold mechanistic world ill-suited to our real needs. Evolution moulded our minds and bodies to the life of hunter-gatherers. The transition first to agriculture and then to industry has condemned us to living unnatural lives that cannot give full expression to our inherent inclinations and instincts, and therefore cannot satisfy our deepest yearnings. Nothing in the comfortable lives of the urban middle class can approach the wild excitement and sheer joy experienced by a forager band on a successful mammoth hunt. Every new invention just puts another mile between us and the Garden of Eden.

Yet this romantic insistence on seeing a dark shadow behind each invention is as dogmatic as the belief in the inevitability of progress. Perhaps we are out of touch with our inner hunter-gatherer, but it’s not all bad. For instance, over the last two centuries modern medicine has decreased child mortality from 33 per cent to less than 5 per cent. Can anyone doubt that this made a huge contribution to the happiness not only of those children who would otherwise have died, but also of their families and friends?

A more nuanced position takes the middle road. Until the Scienti􀉹c Revolution there was no clear correlation between power and happiness. Medieval peasants may indeed have been more miserable than their hunter-gatherer forebears. But in the last few centuries humans have learned to use their capacities more wisely. The triumphs of modern medicine are just one example. Other unprecedented achievements include the steep drop in violence, the virtual disappearance of international wars, and the near elimination of large-scale famines.

Yet this, too, is an oversimplification. Firstly, it bases its optimistic assessment on a very small sample of years. The majority of humans began to enjoy the fruits of modern medicine no earlier than 1850, and the drastic drop in child mortality is a twentieth-century phenomenon. Mass famines continued to blight much of humanity up to the middle of the twentieth century. During Communist China’s Great Leap Forward of 1958–61, somewhere between 10 and 50 million human beings starved to death. International wars became rare only after 1945, largely thanks to the new threat of nuclear annihilation. Hence, though the last few decades have been an unprecedented golden age for humanity, it is too early to know whether this represents a fundamental shift in the currents of history or an ephemeral eddy of good fortune. When judging modernity, it is all too tempting to take the viewpoint of a twenty-first-century middle-class Westerner. We must not forget the viewpoints of a nineteenth-century Welsh coal miner, Chinese opium addict or Tasmanian Aborigine. Truganini is no less important than Homer Simpson.

Secondly, even the brief golden age of the last half-century may turn out to have sown the seeds of future catastrophe. Over the last few decades, we have been disturbing the ecological equilibrium of our planet in myriad new ways, with what seem likely to be dire consequences. A lot of evidence indicates that we are destroying the foundations of human prosperity in an orgy of reckless
consumption.

Finally, we can congratulate ourselves on the unprecedented accomplishments of modern Sapiens only if we completely ignore the fate of all other animals. Much of the vaunted material wealth that shields us from disease and famine was accumulated at the expense of laboratory monkeys, dairy cows and conveyor-belt chickens. Over the last two centuries tens of billions of them have been subjected to a regime of industrial exploitation whose cruelty has no precedent in the annals of planet Earth. If we accept a mere tenth of what animal-rights activists are claiming, then modern industrial agriculture might well be the greatest crime in history. When evaluating global happiness, it is wrong to count the happiness only of the upper classes, of Europeans or of men. Perhaps it is also wrong to consider only the happiness of humans. (422-424)

and…

Huxley’s disconcerting world is based on the biological assumption that happiness equals pleasure. To be happy is no more and no less than experiencing pleasant bodily sensations. Since our biochemistry limits the volume and duration of these sensations, the only way to make people experience a high level of happiness over an extended period of time is to manipulate their biochemical system.

But that definition of happiness is contested by some scholars. In a famous study, Daniel Kahneman, winner of the Nobel Prize in economics, asked people to recount a typical work day, going through it episode by episode and evaluating how much they enjoyed or disliked each moment. He discovered what seems to be a paradox in most people’s view of their lives. Take the work involved in raising a child. Kahneman found that when counting moments of joy and moments of drudgery, bringing up a child turns out to be a rather unpleasant affair. It consists largely of changing nappies, washing dishes and dealing with temper tantrums, which nobody likes to do. Yet most parents declare that their children are their chief source of happiness. Does it mean that people don’t really know what’s good for them?

That’s one option. Another is that the findings demonstrate that happiness is not the surplus of pleasant over unpleasant moments. Rather, happiness consists in seeing one’s life in its entirety as meaningful and worthwhile. There is an important cognitive and ethical component to happiness. Our values make all the difference to whether we see ourselves as ‘miserable slaves to a baby dictator’ or as ‘lovingly nurturing a new life’.2 As Nietzsche put it, if you have a why to live, you can bear almost any how. A meaningful life can be extremely satisfying even in the midst of hardship, whereas a meaningless life is a terrible ordeal no matter how comfortable it is. (p.437)

 

Being woke; or identity politics destroys my mind, pt.2

So a few things have happened lately that have bought my issues with identity politics back to my mind.

First, I had a student complain that I used the N-word in a lecture.

Second, the UWA student guild made a motion to stop the Dalai Lama (or his representatives) from speaking on campus, because it might offend our Chinese students.

Third, I went to see Jonathan Pie – an excellent comedian who somewhat echoed my concerns about where this was all leading us.

Finally, this:

Kendrick Lamar’s Onstage Outrage: Why Rap Should Retire the N-Word for Good

So to deal with the first issue first, before you stop reading because I am such a horrible racist.

I was conducting a lecture on how language carries power through discourse. We were discussing Ed Sheeran as a group (funny how he keeps coming up in these discussions). He had just toured and a lot of the students had just been to the concert at Optus stadium, so I knew that his ‘power’ would be tangible for them. But I asked ‘is he really any good?’ and then (after fielding some yes and no answers) offered this unwise and unnecessary perspective which I will quote at length to ensure that you get the context:

I thought it was interesting because the music editor from The West panned him and said ‘well his music is all a bit same-ish’. And I have to say that I think within the frame of discourse he’s a fine musician and clearly a nice and sincere person but I don’t think that 20 years ago he would have been successful as he is.

He only sticks out now because so much of contemporary pop music is facile and horrible, and talks about ‘bitches’ and ‘niggas’ and whatever I’m buying; and he doesn’t do that, and so he sticks out.

By saying this I offended someone and was reported to the faculty.

Now let me say I am a little mortified that I offended one of my students – that was -hopefully clearly – never my intention; and I didn’t think that my use of the N-word was derogatory, inflamatory or even capable of creating offence.  But it was, and for that, I’m sorry.

But I do think that I have every right to say the word. Based on the idea that if anyone can say a word, then I can too. The word was on my mind because I had been conducting a rhetorical analysis of Kendrick Lemar’s ‘Humble’. Which is peppered with the ‘N-word’ and the ‘B-word’. That’s why this issue was on my mind and I do think this kind of language is culturally toxic. But I discussed the lyric to ‘Humble’ in the following lecture and received no complaints. So from that I can only deduct that it’s ok for a rapper to use the word, just not ok for me to use it. And I’m not ok with that.

It is not about being free to spout my racist views, or being free to use language to perscute people; I don’t want to do those things and I’d happily be censured on the grounds of offence if I did that. It is about my freedom to use a word which others are allowed to use. I was not directing it at anyone, I was not calling anyone the ‘n-word’, I was discussing the fact that this is a word that was proliferating in popular music. It is happening, so I think I can defend my right to use the same word to describe what’s happening.

Do not give me the ‘only a ginger can call another ginger “ginger“‘ defence. Kendrick is not a woman and yet he is allowed to use the word ‘bitch’; despite the long and horrible history of female oppression and the continued use of that word to segregate and demean a group of powerless people.  So, where’s the consistency Lemar? Maybe he self- identifies as a woman? great, but can’t I identify with a black person then?

The only way for Lemar to defend his position is to suggest that because he is black he is marginised and therefore can speak for/as/on behalf of all marginalised groups. Whereas I am white, so I can never know what it means to be marginalised. I’ve never heard K.dot make that argument but that’s the only possible way to defend it.

But there are problems with that argument, because why are race and gender the only things that matter in terms of judging marginalisation? They are facile elements of identity and, I would argue, while they do invite summary judgment (because they are apparent on surfaces) they are actually less determining that just about every other aspect of identity (because they only manifest at the level of surfaces).

Now, in saying that I’m not saying that being black/female and being oppressed have nothing to do with each other. What I’m saying is that there is actually nothing innate about being black or female that contributes to that oppression. The long history of African slavery did not happen because of blackness, blackness was used as a reverse justification for the economic exploitation of a human resource. It was the system of slavery that created the racism and the N-word, not blackness.

Yes a large number of black people are poor, marginalised and powerless (and a large number of women) – but so are a large number of white people, and a large number of men. Do you know who is not poor, marginalised or powerless? Kendrick Lemar. That’s who. He’s also famous, he’s beautiful. He has a freaking Pulitzer Prize. These are the things that are determining.

Black people, women (along with white people and men); they do all kinds of things, have a wide variety of experiences, they suffer, they succeed, it is almost impossible to tell who they’d be or what they’d be interested in based upon their gender or their race.

However, if you are born poor, you are likely to die poor, and your poverty is likely to determine (and limit) your education, your employment prospects and your experience of the world.

If you are born unattractive by conventional standards, you are likely to die unattractive by conventional standards, and your relative attractiveness is likely to determine your social standing, your group of friends, your mate and yes, even your employment prospects. Where is the representation for the marginalisation of ugly people?

I see nothing consistent here, just a fashionable form of group think which is doing exactly what it is supposedly fighting against – perpetrating race/gender as determining categories (‘you are black so you can…’ is the same logical premise as ‘you are black so you cannot…’). Understanding the world only in terms of surfaces (the Dalai Lama is Tibetan, so he must be offensive; a white person said ‘nigga’ so we must be offended) is the best way to create a world where only surfaces matter. And surfaces shouldn’t matter.

And on that, I’ll finish with this quote from Arendt.

It is indeed my opinion now that evil is never ‘radical’, that it is only extreme, and that it possesses neither depth nor any demonic dimension. It can overgrow and lay waste the whole world precisely because it spreads like a fungus on the surface. It is ‘thought-defying,’ as I said, because thought tries to reach some depth, to go to the roots, and the moment it concerns itself with evil, it is frustrated because there is nothing. That is its ‘banality’. Only the good has depth and can be radical. [1]

[1] Arendt, The Jew as Pariah, p250-251

 

The video of Iranian women sneaking in to watch a football match made my day

I loved seeing this story last night about 5 Iranian women dressing up like men to sneak in to a football ground and watch their team win the league.

It tickled me for a number of reasons. First, it reminded me of this:

While I’m generally all for respecting regional custom and law, the prohibition of women doing things because of their gender is unequivocally abhorrent and an aspect that needs to change in any culture it is rooted (including my own obvs). So, the fact that these Iranians flouted the law, supported by the fact that so many of the other football supporters at least implicitly enabled the act, which was then shared through the power of social media, made me really happy for the prospect of humanistic progress in the world.

Also, it made me remember how great sport and play is as a tool for overcoming social and cultural division; something I wrote about in my paper ‘The Smooth Spaces of Play’.

It is rare that I see news that makes me happy – so thanks to those five brave Iranian women!

This page has nothing to do with TAL insurance. Let me tell you why insurance is a con

So Tauel is a strage word and not one that I hear a lot. Imagine my surprise when I heard this TVC for TAL :

Nothing not to love here, right? I dig the Sia cover, the diversity of ‘Australianness’ represented, some beautiful shots and I can also see the clever messaging of starting with young people and finishing with the target market of older people. And then there’s hearing ‘Tauel’ as a brand… sort of intoxicating.

But I HATE it; because if there’s one industry I struggle to respect, it is insurance. And in this post I’m hoping to explain why.

First, a confession. I’ve actually had a lot of really bad experience with insurance companies, so I am in some sense prejudiced by my own experiences. I have repeatedly been in situations where insurance companies have done everything possible to avoid paying out on claims and employed guys in suits to come up with reasons not to pay, or to chase innocent parties up for the costs they’ve incurred.

I’ll mention a few incidents so you get the idea. When I was 18 a mate accidentally caused me to have an accident that totalled my insured car to the value of $1600, the insurance company was going to charge me $800 excess for being young, as well as the loss of my no-claim bonus; and then go after my mate legally to make him pay the full $1600. So just to recap – because they intended to recoup the money it took to fix the car PLUS my $800 excess, they stood to make $800 out of my honest reporting of what was an accident. We subsequently cancelled the claim and my mate and I sorted it out between us.

Another example was when the communal plumbing in a flat complex we were in flooded and caused damage to carpets and flooring in the adjacent rooms. The building insurer refused to pay to repair the flooring based upon the argument that the damage may have pre-existed the flood because there were cracks in some of the bathroom tiles – and couldn’t be attributed to the flooding caused by the burst communal plubming. There was, of course, no flooring damage before the flooding but the insurance company stood by the claim that if we couldn’t prove that there was previously no damage then we couldn’t prove that the damage was the result of the burst plumbing. So they maintained the position that we had tolerated a wet floor and seeping walls for however many months, just waiting for a colossal failure of the plumbing system, which we then used as convenient excuse to ask them to repair a separate problem which just coincidentally looked like being caused by the plumbing issue. That is a ludicrous claim and an ethical operation would stump up the money for repair clearly caused by the plumbing issue.

Finally, when my 1971 VW Beetle (which was in my family for 25 years) was totalled by a driver using their mobile phone, the driver’s insurance company gave me $600 compensation for the written off vehicle. When I complained that sum no way recognised the value of the car I was told that the age of the car depreciated its value… the car was almost 40 years old at that point and almost, but not quite, in the ‘vintage’ range – but no one would really claim that a 40 year old Beetle is depreciated in value because of its age. $600 was not enough to repair the vehicle and I had no money at that point in my life, so I lost my beautiful little car I’d had for 15 years.

All of these incidents have encouraged me to loathe insurance. I see it as a corrupt industry that ought to be avoided at all costs; even those insurers who ‘aren’t very insurancy’.

I also think that it doesn’t make sense financially to use insurance. Let me explain why. If you are running an insurance business then the only way you can make money is to charge your customers significantly more than the value you’re actually ‘risking’. That is, any insurance premium has to equal the net cost of insurance claims PLUS the cost of employing people to handle the claims, PLUS the cost of administration and management, PLUS the cost of advertising your company PLUS the profit your company needs to make.

So, in all cases, if you’re wealthy enough to absorb the financial risks associated with your lifestyle, then you’re better off without insurance. If you can ride out the bad years, overall, you’ll pay less; among other things that’s just less administration, marketing, management and shareholder profit you’re paying for. I understand that not everyone is that wealthy but that makes insurance an even more unfair imposition upon those who are already financially precarious.

Insurers are obligated to their shareholders to do everything possible to ensure that their clients don’t ‘beat the system’- meaning they will try to ensure that every customer pays far more in premiums and excess than they ever receive from the insurer. That means jacking up premiums at the first sign of an added risk (the person is infirm, young, old etc), and avoiding paying claims wherever possible. It also means that, at the lower ends of the spectrum, there are peculiar advantages to making people feel precarious, threatened and isolated in order to motivate them to take out insurance. It’s sort of a self reinforcing system of creating bad karma in exchange for money.

So yeah, I don’t love insurance. I now avoid any form of insurance I can and generally only hold it where it is compulsory. My family has swallowed the pill of ‘if you can afford private health insurance then you should take it out because it places less pressure on medicare. But this bothers me because of the inefficiency created through having multiple private insurers. Since the larger your customer base becomes you would lower your exposure to peculiar risks, the closer your premiums can get to a median value and the fairer your insurance would be. Similarly, the larger your customer base the more efficient your management and administration could be. Similarly if there were just one insurer, there would be no need for advertising expenditure. In short – if there is just one insurer (say medicare, for instance) insurance premiums would be almost entirely used for their purpose – to pay for the claims made against the insurance – instead of used to pay for marketing the need for further insurance, or creating a new brand to appeal to a safer insurance market.

Finally, I think that the idea of spending money to protect the material wealth we already have is a form of intense conservatism which seeks to preserve the worst aspects of our current existence (commodity fetishism, reification, materialism) and inhibits some of the best aspects (challenge, responsibility, compassion). There are reasons to collectively defray the impact of catastrophe – but using profit oriented companies to coordinate that is a misstep. And yeah, I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with insurance companies. So I’m certainly not endorsing TAL.

What I thought of ‘The Memory Code’ by Lynne Kelly

Honestly, this was a book I’ve been looking forward to reading for about a year and it did not disappoint me.

It presents a basic argument that the odd structuring of various ancient monuments and artwork is actually attributable to the fact that these once operated as technologies to encode cultural memories.

Kelly’s book speaks about quite a few of my longheld interests in history, oral cultures and indigenous cultures. It also discusses a number of places I’ve visited, such as Stonehenge, Maeshowe, Skara Brae, The Ring of Brogar and Machu Pichu. So possibly I loved it because it related specifically to my interests… but I think it also makes a profound contribution to thinking through how communications technologies shape our humanity.

Let’s get into it.

Kelly starts with an engagement with indigenous Australian memory practices and identifies how in these cultures, the movement within certain spaces was fundamental to inscribing cultural memory (through songlines). She refers to a rhetorical practice of loci used by the ancient greeks to aid memory retention. I had never come across the term ‘loci’ but I do remember this memory practice from Silva Rhetoricae

Orators were encouraged to envision where they would be speaking as a preparation for memorizing their speech. Then, having completed the speech’s composition, they were to divide it into manageable portions, each of which they would assign, in turn, to a different part of the room where the speech was to occur. Thus, by casting their eyes about during their speech, they would be reminded of the next part of their speech to give.

And she also refers to the ‘memory palaces’ that contemporary memory champions and card sharks use to, well, remember things. In each one of these scenarios being in a particular place (or imagining a particular place) is the first step to being able to recall the information.

Kelly was fascinated by the notion that oral cultures used these practices to encode cultural information before writing – and the sheer volume of information is staggering. She points to the Matses people of the Amazon as having recently created a 500 page encylcopedia of medicine based upon cultural memory that was previously passed down through oral traditions. Indigenous cultures need to remember the location of food and water, which plants you can eat when and the various geneologies of everyone in the culture to ensure that inbreeding does not occur. This is far more than most of us could remember in contemporary society but of course, for people without writing, remembering this stuff was integral to survival.

So, in the first few chapters of the book she recounts how she  tested the ‘loci’ system by developing her own memory spaces in her house, on her dog-walking route around her neighbourhood and then using abstract pieces of art, an object or a deck of cards as a further memory aid.

I have divided each room and every garden segment into ten locations as is suggested in the anonymous ancient Greek textbook on the topic, the Rhetorica ad Herennium… every fifth location is marked in some way… that ensures that nothing is missed as there must always be four locations between a marked spot. p.66

By doing this she has been able to memorise the events of world history, the different species of birds in Australia, details about the world’s states and capitals and so on. One location can be used to inscribe any number of types of information

Information may be in either of the songlines. It doesn’t matter. The links started happening from my first ventures into creating the songlines. The term I had used so often when talking about indigenous cultures was emerging. I was creating an ‘integrated knowledge system’. p.67

So she found that these pieces of information would start to relate to each other and take on their own inherent meaning.

After a year or so, I was starting to see patterns in the information even though I was not actively searching for them. I found my stories starting to take on the form of indigenous stories I’d read from all over the world. I was seeing familiar knowledge in a different way – vivid, visual and emotional. I gained insight and pleasure from the process. (p.xvii)

I don’t understand why I am never confused by drawing information from a whole range of memory spaces, but I am not. After a few years of adding data and commentary, stories and mythological characters, I cannot explain it to friends when they ask. It is too like hypertext and too little like the linear flow of a book. p.69

for these reasons:

Trying to separate indigenous practical knowledge from mythology is a process doomed from the start. The two are intricately interwoven. Rituals in non-literate cultures need to be considered on their own terms without trying to find an equivalent in literate cultures. Such an equivalent does not exist. p.6

So after she establishes how important place is to memory, and how places must have been important for storing cultural memory in pre-writing cultures, Kelly then has a revelation while at Stonehenge with her partner. She realises that a possible explanation for the arrangement of the oldest henge – as a huge circle of distinctly different stones – was probably an attempt to recreate songlines once communities had started to settle in one place. Because cultures were no longer nomadic, she argues, they needed to come up with a way to represent the memory spaces they had once used. Monuments such as the oldest henge at stonehenge would have provided the spaces necessary to recreate the traditional performances of songlines, without having to return to the scattered locations throughout the countryside.

Related image

(this is actually an image of nearby woodhenge – but you get the idea) – the outer ring of stones are uniquely different and everyone of them would have served as a ‘memory space’ to recall particular pieces of cultural information. The ditches around the henge, Kelly Argues, are for performances of the information. The ditch serves the twin purposes of amplifying the sounds and effect of the performance, and obscuring the view of anyone who is not permitted to share the knowledge.

Restricting knowledge affords power to those who have been taught and deemed competent by the elders who control that information. But there is another critical purpose. It is all to do with what is inappropriately referred to as ‘the Chinese-whispers effect’. Lots of people repeating the informaton in an uncontrolled way will inevitably lead to corruption of the facts stored within the songs. Distortion cannot be tolerated in information [vital to collective survival]…. the knowledge is not varied, it is sacred. p.9

Having already White and Ong and a few others on orality I had previously held a view that one of the great virtues of oral cultures was their flexibility – that they had the capacity to alter their knowledges as needs and perspectives evolved. Kelly does restate this advantage, but she also made it more clear that storytelling and knowledge itself was the locus of cultural power.

Kelly goes through a number of archeological marvels such as Chaco Canyon, the Ring of Brogar, Newgrange, Maeshowe and even the lines of Nazca and explains how they operated as memory spaces. It made me think of our guide at Machu Pichu, who explained that the purpose of certain rocks and cavities around the city had never been truly understood. Well Kelly came up with a pretty compelling explanation for these things as memory spaces, used to store the cultural memories ofa people who had settled and no longer visited the natural spaces they once did, but still needed to remember the knowledge associated with those spaces. Hence the reason why each of these cultures invested millions of hours of work into building monuments and structures with no discernable productive purpose.

However, her argument is that these stand-in monuments only operated as such during a particular ‘transitory’ phase between nomadism and civilisation.

It was only as societies settled and population centres grew large that heirarchies became established, with those at the top becoming wealthy and their world protected using guards, soldiers and warriors. It is from this time that individual burials with grave goods appear in the archaeological record. The knowedge specialists became the servants of the chiefs. From then until today, the power of knowledge was subjegated by the power of wealth and violence. p.33

Or:

As specialists emerged in the increasingly large and complex communities, no single group could control the knowledge system. Powerful individuals gained wealth. Egalitarianism was a thing of the past as a high staus warrior class emerged. When knowledge had been the prevailing source of power, the memory spaces were the predominant sign of the culture. Once wealth and violence replaced knowledge as the determining factor for control, the massive labour required to build megalithic monuments could no longer be justified by the community… [136] Knowledge specialists were still needed, and probably still powerful, just no longer at the top of the heirarchy… When knowledge was power, the Neolithic peoples built a memory space still unparalleled today. When wealth and violence became power, Stonehenge was abandoned. It had simply lost its purpose. pp.135-136

Increasing city populations, the emergence of specialist experts and the introduction of writing would have eroded the ability of the elders to control information. The elder who could memorise a thousand songs and all the knowledge of the culture was now long gone. p.251

Following the growth and specialisation of knowledge, keeps and fortifications became the dominant public architecture, which I find simply fascinating.

I guess I find it all so fascinating because Kelly is presenting a vivid picture of how practices of encountering and storing cultural knowlege have a direct and profound effect on the culture. My current research is looking at the effect of smart phones and big data upon culture and it isn’t hard to have your mind blown by thinking through the differences between the sort of cultural knowledge of nomadic people, compared to the cultural knowledge and practices imbued by smart phones and Google.

Consider her description of the connection the indigenous cultures have to country and place, (which helps me reflect on our contemporary lack of connection).

Nungarrayi, to use her Warlpiri title, described the catalogue of sounds which are ecoded as far more extensive than just the calls of the birds and other animals. For example, she described the way her people were able to identify trees and bushes and grasses by the sound in a breeze. I found this hard to believe but was assured that if I gave it a try I would discover that it is possible. That afternoon I sat in the bush and listened. What I would have described as silence, on a day which had very little wind, was anything but. I became aware of the bird sounds fairly quickly, but before long I became aware of the sounds of the plants. The eucalypt to my left, the acacias at the fron, and the grasses to the right all made distinctly different sounds.  I could not accurately convey these sounds in writing. In subsequent sessions, I’ve been able to distinguish between different species of eucalypt… p.6

Non-Indigenous observers have mentioned their surprise at the depth of the emotional response in a singer when chanting a set of place names, a seemingly unemotional task…. When I list the locations, my head is full of all these associations, vivid images, funny stories and a precious store of knowledge. But even more than that, my songlines are now so familiar and so much a part of everyday life, I am extrordinarily fond of them. I have an emotional response as well as an intellectual one when I think of my songlines. I could not have understood this had I not done it myself. For the elders with their entire culture tied to the knowledge embeded in the landscape, the effect must be extraordinarily intense. p.15

One element of the change is the lack of connection with the natural, or even the viscerally real in contemporary culture; another is the lack of appreciation of wisdom (or knowledge that crosses disciplines) as opposed to knowledge within a specific discipline:

We store our books in neat categories: science on one side of the library, ethics on the other and mythology somewhere else. These silos of generic information are an artefact of literacy, where so much is written and research is so focused that much of the interconnectedness of the human experience is lost. The extraordinary depth within each genre has come at the cost of the intergrated format of oral tradition. p.29

And of course, there is also the issue of pleasure. It seems to me that gaining knowledge used to be intimately tied to experiencing pleasure (forgive the play on words).

…gatherings serve the need for tade and to find marriage partners, as well as being for pure pleasure. Gatherings are also the forums to teach and trade knowledge through ceremony. p.12

While movies about US universities make me think this link between learning and pleasure hasn’t been completely forgotten about, the trend toward digital delivery and ‘blended learning’ in my own university suggests that efficient information transmission is now seen as the sole purpose of communication. But what is the price of the cultural, natural and ritual knowledge we lose as a result of always being online? Kelly doesn’t enter into any of this but that’s just as well, it is my interest, not necessarily hers – but I intend to ask her what she thinks of how digital technology is reconfiguring these memory practices.

And throughout all of this, Kelly has made an indelible contribution to my thinking through communication as ritual, not just information transmission. The songlines and structures she describes are not just about the information but also about the process of coming together to make meaning. The relationality experienced by building these monuments, and then using them to store cultural memories must have made this aspect of people’s communicative existence incredibly meaningful, not to mention the performative and aesthetic aspects of singing, performing and displaying ones knowledge and relationships.

On the use of abstract motifs on art as memory aids:

It was the process that mattered, not the product. I gradually understood why so many indigenous ‘art’ words were simply erased or left to rot after ceremonies and rituals. They had already served their purpose by the very fact that they were made. p.47

So finally, and I know this has been a long one, but I feel that this really has been an important book (and is well worth the read), I’ll finish on Kelly’s reflection on her own experience with training with memory places, which reflects my engagement with her work.

It has been a revelation to learn to think differently. It has also been the most wonderful fun. p.63

Hannah Gadsby’s ‘Nanette’ – musings on comedy, stories, art and connection

Hannah Gadsby and images of thought

So, I went to see Hannah Gadsby on Saturday night. It was one of the best hours of entertainment I’ve ever seen… but not because it was funny.

It was raw, emotional and incredibly thought provoking. It was obliterating comedy and I’d like to think through some of the issues she raised. So *SPOILERS* below for Gadsby’s show ‘Nanette’.

The show starts innocuously enough, some pretty typical gags following Gadbsy’s typical self-depricating style. For those who don’t know Gadsby is a non-identifying lesbian of literally immense stature and these aspects of her identity have typically provided her with comedic material. This show began with her quite typically recounting how others react to her presence, or discussing how her sexuality, quiet disposition and physicality alienated her from various communities; then making jokes about how that process resolved.

Straight white men did not come off well throughout. But it was funny, and honest observational humour – she did a lot here to establish the relative meaningless of the various identities she is ‘ascribed’. ‘I don’t identify as Lesbian, I identify as “tired”, she says, and at another point ‘Did you know, men and women have more in common with each other than they don’t? Men and women are more alike than people and dogs; so stop separating us in to separate teams from day dot.’ And finally ‘I would not like to be a straight white man. It’s the worst time in human history to be a straight white man right now. I wouldn’t be a straight white man if you paid me; although the pay would be substantial’. Good, funny stuff – observing social malaise and commenting on it with laffs.

Towards the middle of the show she started discussing the process of comedy. All jokes, she maintains, are composed of the two parts ‘set-up’ and ‘punchline’. The set-up, she argues establishes a tension in the listener audience. It makes them feel uncomfortable about something, or many things, by painting a picture of an absurdity, an injustice or an apparent contradiction. The set up ‘artificially inseminates’ the audience with an anxiety or dissonance that makes them uncomfortable.

The punchline is the thing that defrays that tension. The comedian comes riding to the rescue of the audience by saying something that allows a laugh to remove the tension. Everyone laughs, feels better. But Gadsby spent the rest of the night exploring what resolving that tension is doing to her, and justifying her decision to quit comedy as a result

Gadsby’s success in comedy comes from an intensely personal tension. Because of her ‘situation’ (as she describes it) she has been defraying tension all her life; ‘I didn’t have to invent the tension, I was the tension’. This has equipped her for comedy as she has become expert at making people feel at ease with her and the tension she creates. However, she has found that what actually happens during comedy is that when she dissolves the tension in the room, the audience feels better but she does not. As a marginal figure, she argues she is constantly using comedy to make people feel at home with their prejudices and their contradictions. ‘Self-deprecation from the margins’ she says, ‘is not humility, it is humiliation.’

After spelling this dynamic out in the middle third of the show, the final third is a harrowing, brilliant and relatively humourless exploration of how this comedic mechanism relates to art and story-telling. Gadsby maintains she can’t do ‘angry’ comedy, because she understands the intellectual pointlessness and moral danger of using the ‘set-up’ to create tension and identify a category of villains that can be used to resolve that tension. She points instead to storytelling as a mechanism of power and change. And in some great riffs on art history, she also identifies that the powerful have always been attracted to artists because they understand the importance of stories. Stories are different to jokes because they have three parts – a beginning, a middle and an end. (A set up, a complication and a resolution). It is the resolution that differs from the joke because it fully considers the aftermath of the events. It tries to relate what happened in the story to what is happening now and in this way, it does not necessarily resolve the tension.

The last few minutes of the show consisted in Gadsby relating the ‘real’ non-joke endings to a number of the stories she had used to establish tension in the first third of the show. Whereas in the first part of the show, Gadsby expertly relieved the tension with one liners and humour, in these final minutes she retold these stories including details of her molestation, rape, bashing and associated self-loathing. These revelations of jokes as stories was the end of Gadsby’s time on stage and, despite a standing ovation, she would not return to relieve our tension and make us comfortable again.

So, it was a hugely powerful experience. And as well as the central argument about what is happening in comedy/stories Gadsby also did great work on the various myopias of art criticism, individualism, reputation, identity politics and straight white men. All of it was intelligent, passionate and the end result was highly compelling. It’s probably the best piece of ‘comedy’ I’ve ever seen; but not because it was funny.

And when I say it was compelling, it compelled me to want to get drunk because of the force of Hannah’s exposition (although IRL I didn’t/couldn’t). It also had me convinced she was on to something about an inherent problem of comedy. However, as I’ve thought about it, I’ve come to disagree with the premises of her argument about quitting comedy, while admiring the hell out of it nonetheless. I agree with just about everything else she said, particularly on the unheralded importance of humanity and connection in all stories.

Things get a bit wordy below, so only read on if you’re into philosophy or critical theory.

The basis of my disagreement with Gadsby’s position lies in a Deleuzean argument about (against) the ideal image of thought constructed by Hegel. That is, categories and ideals pre-exist our consideration of those things, and our deviation from them always involves a dialectic reconciliation back toward those ideals. Gadsby refutes this categorisation throughout most of her comedy and yet she maintains that the ‘defray/resolution’ always gravitates back to the preconceived categories i.e. I’m always and invariably understood as a minority. She spells this out particularly when she discusses a conversation she had with her mother that helped her decide to quit comedy.

 The thing I regret is that I raised you as if you were straight. That must have been so confusing for you. I knew well before you did that your life was going to be so hard and I wanted more than anything in the world for that not to be the case.  But I now know that I made it worse, I wanted you to change because I knew the world wouldn’t.

Here, Hannah, her mother and the world and their roles are cast as impervious to change. These things exist as categories that always have primacy over experience, that will always drag experience back toward their centre.

I’d argue that this is a misunderstanding and while I don’t begrudge Gadsby her perspective I’d advance a different model of thought, where the realisation of difference opens up a space for connection and ‘becoming-other’… of escaping from the category that you’re in and becoming something new. Gadsby, I’m sure is aware of this possibility, even if she doesn’t name it, possibly because she doesn’t want to let the audience ‘off the hook’ of thinking through how their ‘categories’ are defined. Gadsby’s resistance of identity tags is one indication of her resistance to the Hegelian image of thought. She also betrays this philosophy in some of her more powerful concluding comments:

To be rendered powerless does not destroy your humanity. To render someone powerless is what destroys that humanity.

I do believe we can make a better world if we tried to see if from as many different perspectives as possible.

And of course, as a straight white man, I’d prefer not to think that our categories are non-negotiable and that an engagement such as ‘Nanette’ can indeed be productive of new perspectives, new connections and a redeemed humanity. Thanks to Gadsby for a real piece of art.

On time and drumming with Taylor Hawkins

So I went to watch the Foo Fighters on the weekend and had a few moments when I achieved a philosophical appreciation for the excellent drumming of Taylor Hawkins.

Taylor Hawkins – according to Dave Grohl ‘The answer to the question – “What if Freddy Mercury had a surfboard”? – is one of the better drummers I’ve seen live. And I think the fact that he’s clearly a Queen fan is no coincidence. Hawkins has a remarkable ability to enter into the moment and alter it both with his singing, drumming and presence more generally.

Don’t get me wrong, Dave Grohl is also a consummate showperson – every time I’ve seen him (3 times now) I’m impressed by his commitment to perform. He’s always interested in reactions, and responsive to them, 1 and I usually spend some of the show thinking about whether his musical legacy is more important than Kurt Cobain’s… and I generally answer ‘yes’, and that’s some testament to his talent and endeavour.

But with Hawkins, he is equally in control and also (at least seemingly) possessed by the performance – just like Freddy Mercury. When I’m watching him I get the impression that what he’s producing is in and of the moment. Possessing ‘haecceity’, or ‘thisness’ that makes something truly unique.

As a communication theorist the reason I find this fascinating is that communication is typically understood in our world as a process of ‘information exchange’. That is, according to both scientific and empirical theories of communication, when I’m listening to Hawkins and the Foo Fighters I am receiving information – here’s the high hat, here’s the kick drum and so on. However, the experience of being at a Foo Fighters concert is significantly more than that information. Hawkins slight altering of the tempo and beat patterns are in and of the moment and adaptive to the feeling of the music which is immanent to the crowd and the occasion.

I have previously written about why live music experience cannot be replicated and I touched on this issue there. There is something incommensurable (incommunicable) about such experiences and that is – in essence –  the thing. I also know that great theorists like Ron Bogue and, of course, Heidegger, have written about time and experience in far more interesting ways.

However, my take away, and something that I think is helping me think through these issues, is that communication (real communication) is a process, not information exchange. In identifying it as a process you come to understand the difference between information and communication. We have the ability to exchange information globally, and indeed you can even see examples of Taylor Hawkins performance on the weekend right here.

But while the information has complete parity with what happened on the weekend, it is not communicating the same thing. The reason is because there is a process involved in watching music live that is not replicated in reading a blog.

While understanding that process is important seems to replicate McLuhan’s ‘Media is the message’ what I think is really important is to understand what is not happening in ‘information exchange’… a reduced appreciation for iteration and immanence for one, a failure to appreciate our human capacity for another… and an absence of reduction to purpose, a celebration of experience in its place.