In Information Please, Mark Poster asks how information works differently when it is mediated through digital machines, arguing that much cultural theory has ignored the importance of specific media in understanding subjectivity, relations among people, and culture (4). He begins with the basic contention “that information increasingly appears in complex couplings of humans and machines” (9). One important aspect of this coupling for Poster is a “new hermeneutic, one that underscores the agency of the media,” meaning that we can no longer posit a simple subject/object dichotomy that sees subjects as fundamentally different and separate from objects (10).

Through his discussions of various schools of thought, including postcolonialism, Hardt and Negri’s theory of empire, theories of identity, postmodernism, and media theory, Poster argues that these theories, while informative and helpful, often fail to take into account the specifics of media, especially digital media, in their theorization. He argues that digital public spheres “constructs the subject through the specificity of its medium in a way different from oral or written or broadcast models of self constitution” (41). Digital media constructs users as producers, “who are present only through their textual, aural, and visual uploads” (41, 195-196).

He argues that digital technologies are “not prosthesis, not a mechanic addition to an already complete human being, but an intimate mixing of humans and machine that constitutes an interface outside the subject-object binary” (48). The self becomes embedded in various digital databases, which disrupts our understanding of identity as consciousness (92); information about oneself is exteriorized (100), and so “Digital networks thus extend the domain of insecurity to objects that had previously been relatively safe” (101). Identity thus can no longer be understood as consciousness: “Identity is thus a double operation of material trace and consciousness bound together in a configuration that solidifies the figure of identity” (112).

Poster also argues that perhaps we need to reconfigure ethics for digital media, because we are uprooted from local communities, come into contact with a wider array of human behavior, and disrupts the public/private distinction so that we encounter things that we’d prefer to think of as “evil” but would rather not encounter and just let be (149). Additionally, the ease of just removing yourself from a digital encounter raises ethical questions, and Poster posits that perhaps “virtual ethics entail a different, perhaps more demanding, type of obligation. The moral imperative might be ‘act so that you will continue to maintain the identities you have constructed in relation with others’” (153).

He argues that “The screen is thus a liminal object, an interface between the human and the machine that invites penetration of each by the other” (175).

I particularly enjoyed Poster’s discussion of how images travel and move in planetary ways online, how “identity theft” is a recent development, and other developments he discusses.

Poster, Mark. Information Please: Culture and Politics in the Age of Digital Machines. Durham: Duke UP, 2006.



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My point below wasn’t to be critical of La Russa for the lawsuit here, but to play with ideas of authenticity. Ooo, but now I feel in bad taste having written this. Thanks, Collin, for pointing this out!

ORIGINAL POST:
It’s become a cliché of the Internet: that cartoon with the dog at his computer with the caption, “On the Internet, no one knows you’re a dog.”

Recently Cardinals coach Tony La Rusa sued Twitter because someone had an account claiming to be him. This led Twitter to launch verified accounts, where celebrities and other folks can get a little badge on their Twitter account letting the world know they’re real. This doesn’t mean no one else is real, but some people are more real than other people.

I’m a bit bummed about the verified button. I mean, I don’t care if it’s the real Ashton Kutcher or not. I don’t follow him anyway. I don’t really follow any celebrities, except Margaret Cho and Amanda Palmer—they’re funny. One of the things I like about the Internet is the way that authenticity breaks down a bit. Anonymous, psuedonymous, fake. Obviously, this can cause problems. Huge problems at times. But it can also let us think a bit about how identity isn’t so fixed, that perhaps authenticity is as much a fabrication as anything else.

If I were La Russa, I’d be ecstatic that someone made a fake account under my name. “Someone’s paying attention to me!” If I were him, I’d probably sue too, but not because I’d want to win, but to get more press. I mean, really, who, outside of baseball fans, thinks about La Russa? I hadn’t thought about him in years, not since those Slim Fast commercials, I first thought. And then I realized that was a different Tony, Lasorda, actually. So possibly, I hadn’t thought of La Russa in any context ever other than, yawn! the Cardinals, yawn.¹

But my guess is that La Russa is actually concerned about his reputation (“dilution, cybersquatting, and misappropriation of name and likeness” etc. etc. etc.), not upping any attention to himself. His name and likeness hasn’t been “diluted,” though. It’s been hightened, enlarged, recontextualized, given some life outside of baseball. If I were him, I’d drop the lawsuit and pay the person who was impersonating me to continue. Because I’d be La Russa, and I’d have the big bucks. The big MLB bucks.²

But my point is that what I find most fascinating (okay, as fascinating as a few other things) is the way the Internet often gets us to question authenticity. I mean, one thing I love about Chris Crocker’s Leave Brittney Alone video was how people kept asking if he was serious or not. I wasn’t concerned if he was serious about it or not, but that people were obsessing over whether he was being serious or facetious. Fascinating!

Now, I’m not advocating for the complete breakdown of truth, but rather some form of ruptures or schisms (or something to that effect) in this “cult of authenticity” that our society has built up. A fake La Russa Twitter account probably isn’t that great of a rupture. In fact, it’s probably banal and doesn’t change a darn thing.

¹ No offense to Cardinals fans. If Carrie Prejean can get away with just saying “no offense”, then so can I. (also, tehe.) And I’m certain La Russa is a nice man and I don’t mean any offense to him.

² Also interesting: “cybersquatting.” To squat means to sit, live, inhabit property that’s not “supposed” to be your own. Does this mean that identity is now “property,” like intellectual property? Tony La Russa™? Or that an identity or name on a social network site can be claimed as already our own, even if we don’t have an account? Someone should test this out. Somehow. Not sure how. “Cybersquatting.” Such a strange term.

In Chapter 7 of Beyond Identity Politics, Moya Lloyd discusses the difference between performance and performativity in order to discuss the potentials for parody as subversion. Performativity, she argues, cannot be reduced to simply performance, in part because performance relies on autonomous agency with a “will” before the act. A performative, as Lloyd describes it, is akin to a speech act: it is a citation of a previous discursive act that puts effects into action. Because gender is a discourse that precedes the subject, one “does” gender. According to performative theory, one is not essentially a man or woman, but is only recognized as man or woman. Their gender is an effect of performativity.

Lloyd’s articulation of Judith Butler’s theory of performativity is useful as we consider the potential for transgender identities to offer subversion to the gender regime. Much like the gay man Lloyd discusses, who is gender normative and passes as straight, trans people who pass for cisgendered do not, in most cases, offer subversion. A theory of performativity allows us, instead of seeing gender as something someone has, to see gender as something read, because it is created by discursive practices.

Let me offer an example of possible subversion, but I’d like to preface this example by stating that I agree with Lloyd and Bulter that subversion cannot be easily calculated. This means I’d rather see this example as possible subversion rather than necessarily subversive. I was sitting in a gay bar a few weeks ago while Thomas Beatie, the transman who is now pregnant with his second child, was being interviewed on television by Barbara Walters. Some of the men in the bar were completely confused — confused by Beatie’s biological “plumbing,” by his ability to get pregnant, by his gender. At first, I was annoyed, because all too often I see gay men who refuse to study up on trans issues. However, I soon began to revel in the confusion. Here was an interview, attempting to make Beatie’s gender stable and understandable — but the interview was failing at this attempt because of the disruptions of a loud bar that distracts viewers from the framing of the interview. While Beatie was attempting to assert that essentially he is a man, the performatives of gender (a beard, a voice coded as male, but a pregnancy!) disrupted gender to the viewers at the bar. Of course, there is still a voyeuristic impulse in viewers (what is he?), but there is also confusion (how can he be both a man and pregnant?). It seems that the performatives (the reiteration of gendered practices) offered by Beatie, at least in this one context, offer some subversion to the regime of gender.

rating: 5 of 5 stars
Lloyd’s book is an excellent book for those interested in feminism and post-structuralist theories of identity and politics. Lloyd is able to articulately and clearly convey post-structuralist feminist theories in ways that are accessible, even when the original author (e.g., Judith Butler) can be convoluted at times. Identity politics generally functions on the premise that identity precedes politics, but Lloyd sees politics/discourse as constituting the subject; thus, politics leads to identity. She also takes a postmodern stance on identity, understanding it as multiple/shifting/fluid — that is, as in process. Perhaps my favorite part of the book is her understanding of the essentialist/anti-essentialist debate, seeing it not as an either/or debate, but rather as an agonistic space where politics is contested. Ultimately, Lloyd is interested in a deep democracy with affiliations and coalitions of subjects (her examples are women of color and queer movements, both of which eschew universal understanding of an identity and are oppositional in make-up).



Again, great book, and if read carefully, can serve as an excellent introduction to post-structuralist feminism.


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This particular story exemplifies, I believe, Appiah’s ideal of cosmopolitan agreement on particulars. In our reading last week, Appiah claims that “we often don’t need robust theoretical agreement in order to secure shared practices” (256), but instead find common ground through narratives and particulars (257). Appiah writes that principles or theories aren’t what bring a missionary doctor and a distressed mother together at the bedside of a sick child; instead, they are both brought there by their common care or concern for this particular child (256). I believe we see a similar situation in “The Man to Send Rain Clouds.” Leon’s family and Father Paul have quite different principles in regards to death. Paul believes that one must be given Last Rites and a proper Mass in order to ascend to Heaven as a Christian. Leon and his family, however, believe that Teofilo’s face should be painted and he should be buried with water in order to bring them rain. Unlike Leon, Father Paul would probably never agree that these rites would bring them rain. At the level of principle, these two parties are in complete disagreement.

However, they are brought to common ground by the particulars of the situation. It is apparent in the story that Father Paul cares for Teofilo—he asks for Leon to bring him to church on Sunday. While Paul’s motivations for attending to Teofilo’s body with the holy water aren’t made apparent in the story, I speculate that he does so not necessarily because he believes it is the proper Christian thing to do, but because he cares for and respects Teofilo. The use of holy water in this instance has two vastly different significations and values in the story, yet it is the particulars that bring Leon’s family and the priest together.

Where else in Silko’s text do we see this sort of potential for connections across difference?

I want to argue (though tentatively) that perhaps when white middle class people proclaim they “have no culture,” what they are really lamenting is a lack of autonomy. (I also want to make clear that “culture” is also often a codeword for race, and the claim is part of making whiteness invisible.) I have heard a number of white middle class people complain that they have no culture and express their envy of Others who are “more diverse.”¹ This proclamation that “I have no culture,” cannot be true, for surely white people have “knowledge, belief, arts, morals, law, customs, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society” (Tyler, qtd. in Appiah 119-120).

I think this look toward a “diverse” other (such as African-American culture or Jewish culture) as a model of culture is a concern about homogeneity — that white people fear seeing themselves as being the same as one another. Appiah writes that “often when we worry about homogeneity [...] it’s because we take it to be evidence of a previous crime against autonomy” (153). If my suspicion about white homogeneity is correct, then the claim that “I have no culture” might actually be a claim about autonomy — that white folks are lamenting their autonomy having been taken away. Here’s my reasoning: the culture industry has eliminated many choices, and I think white people (as a generality), who probably most identify with the cultural industry, have lost their autonomy (at least partially) to the domination of the cultural industry, to draw on T.W. Adorno’s critique. Perhaps this “lack of culture” also has to do with an alienation from others that leaves one without a “community.”²

What is your take on why some white people claim “I have no culture”?

¹ I put “more diverse” in scare quotes because I doubt the ability of an individual to be “more diverse” than another individual; I think “more diverse” is code here for “not mainstream,” “other,” or “exotic.”

²I want to admit my limits epistemologically: I am assuming that this is a phenomenon of white people because I have never heard a person of color make the claim that he or she has no culture.

Queer. Once—and still—an anti-gay slur, it’s been reclaimed by a minority of gay people as a supposedly affirmative label. Yet it’s an odd and problematic word, often less indicative of sexual orientation than of ideology. To be queer, by some people’s definitions, is not so much to be homosexual as it is to be a socially marginal rebel, defined primarily by his or her sexuality, who is perpetually and intrinsically at odds with the political and cultural establishment. But you don’t have to be all these things, as long as you think of yourself that way, or say that you do, or adopt a personal style that implies that you do. Or something like that. (ix)

As someone who uses the label queer, and doesn’t identify as gay (or homosexual), I think this book should be interesting. On a related note, I was told this weekend by a gay man that my queer identity and politics are, to paraphrase from memory, not pragmatic.

Bawer, Bruce. “Introduction.” Beyond Queer: Challenging Gay Left Orthodoxy. Ed. Bruce Bawer. New York: The Free Press, 1996. ix-xv.

Though we haven’t yet read Appiah’s discussion in Chapter 5 (where Appiah will take up this topic more), I would argue that no, these are not identities we want in the longer run, and in fact these identities are a factor in the developing typification of other bodies/identities. I sense, from some conversations both inside and outside of class, that whether these identities (gay, black, lesbian, Latino, etc.) that arise out of oppression are viable in the longer run is of central concern to at least some in the class. Identity politics has done some much needed work in affirming the identities of marginalized folks, but how much longer is this type of politics going to work? A gay identity depends on the existence of sexism, heterosexism, and homophobia. A black identity depends on the social construction of race and cultural racism. It seems to me that as long as these identities exist, the oppression that underpins them will continue to exist.

Additionally, as I stated, I think the typification of bodies that creates these identities is extending and broadening to the typification of affinity groups. Science, especially psychology, which had its hand in the creation of sexualities and races, is now at work in creating such things as “liberal bodies” and “conservative bodies.” A recent psychological survey found that conservatives are more likely to be startled or scared than liberals. Our political affiliations are becoming, I fear, biological imperatives (like the outmoded idea that race is biological, or the still somewhat en vogue idea that sexual identity is 100% biological). In fact, the organization of these new typified bodies seems to model itself on other marginalized groups: conservatives can now argue that they are oppressed, marginalized, and excluded solely on the basis of being a conservative. Ultimately, I see this as harming our ability to discuss ideas, beliefs, and values.

What is your conception of what types of identities there “should” be in the future?

A nice coincidence.

Appiah remarks that education has two purposes in a liberal society: “preparing a child for an autonomous existence” and “the promulgation of at least some of [a self-perpetuating political order's] constitutive tenets” (199). Without recounting his entire theory of autonomy (which draws on Mills and spans parts of the previous four chapters), I’d like to point out that barring this student from wearing “goth” makeup harms his preparation for an autonomous existence. This rule is, in Lacanian terms, master discourse.

Appiah writes later “that the cultivation of individuality [is] the most social thing of all” (211), and, if we reason that autonomy and individuality (a la Appiah, Friere, Dewey) are inter-related (if not nearly the same), then the school seems to have infringed on this young man’s ability to cultivate himself.

Education and government, Appiah argues, should have a role in the soul-making of its citizens. He defines ‘soul-making’ as “the project of intervening in the process of interpretation through which each citizen develops an identity — and doing so with the aim of increasing her chances of living an ethically successful life” (164). Does barring this student from wearing goth makeup “increase his chances of living an ethically successful life”? Hardly. But we have to look at the school’s rationale for the decision: it was distracting to other students. “Distracting” is, of course, a term without clear meaning. Anything could be distracting to someone, so I think, as a term in and of itself, “distracting” isn’t a sound enough reason by itself to bar an appearance.

If we are concerned about the “legitimacy” of a goth identity, it isn’t “abhorrent,” a word Appiah uses for identities that are “morally, not merely ethically, impaired” (191). (Appiah uses Richard Dworkin’s distinction, that ethics “includes convictions about which kinds of lives are good or bad for a person to lead, and morality includes principles about how a person should treat other people” [Dworkin, qtd. in Appiah xiii].) The goth identity itself need not be cultivated by the school, but it is highly suspect to suppress it.

I think it would be within grounds for the school to provide tools that might lead to this youth to question his identity, but ultimately, this decision to suppress a goth identity is illiberal. Boo to this school’s administrators.

I would like to advance an argument that, counter to commonsense, argues that empathy is not necessarily the “Good Thing” in deliberating across difference we often extol it to be. After reading Where We Stand, as well as Jonathan Alexander’s post on the CCCC blog, I have begun to be concerned that empathy, our ability to put ourselves in another’s position, might also be a way of “flattening” differences — of only identifying with what is similar and occluding attention to difference. The women who trashed hooks’s room, it appears to me, did not want to “truly understand” hooks either. I believe that, at some level, they empathized with hooks, but only inasmuch as they could reduce her to being like them, living in a “world [...] overexposed, on the surface” (28). Alexander writes of his students who read about queer characters and erase their queerness in order to identify with them — what Alexander calls a “flattening” of difference.

It seems to me that, rather than stressing empathy when holding discourse across differences, we should be stressing that self-critique is important. hooks writes about her “[c]onstant vigilance” about her class privilege and her thoughts so that she can continue to identify with those less fortunate (60). She tells us that “I would always have to reexamine where I stand” (37). hooks’s statements here are also in line with Harding’s standpoint theory, which does not ask the oppressed to empathize with others, but rather to examine where they stand within systems. I wonder if, instead of asking those with privilege to empathize with the poor, which can lead to erased differences or mere pity, we should ask them to engage in examinations of where they stand. This also seems in line with Slovaj Zizek’s claims that, rather than attempting to understand the Other, we should be interrogating our own fantasies about the Other and our own positions within the symbolic order. Here I don’t mean to dismiss empathy as an option; I certainly believe it has a vital role in working toward ending oppression. What I wonder, though, is:

How can we work towards “sites of empathy” (for my lack of a better term) that lead toward identity with and solidarity rather than flattening of difference or pity?