Here is a little something I wrote tonight. Not very formal in terms of citations and stuff, mostly just me taking some ideas into consideration and doing some theorizing.


Always Being Seen: A Look at the Participatory Panopticon, “Reality" TV, and the Evolution of the Big Other in the Post-Modern World

In the late 18th century, English philosopher Jeremy Bentham devised a system for controlling the behavior of prison inmates, something that he called a “Panopticon.” This apparatus was based on the idea that prisoners would be made to feel as though they were being watched at all times by someone who they could not see. The proposed prison would be circular in shape, with the “Inspector” in the center and the prisoners’ cells built all around the perimeter, surrounding the Inspector’s office. This would be constructed as such that the prisoners could not see into the Inspector’s office, and therefore were never sure whether or not they were being watched. Furthermore, Bentham suggested that the Inspector offer reprimands and show signs of watching the prisoners on a variable ratio schedule; that is, the Inspector may observe a prisoner committing an infraction, but choose to wait until days later to offer any sort of acknowledgement or punishment. Because of the way that the Panopticon is set up, there is no need for the prisoners to actually be watched all of the time; instead, the feeling of constant surveillance is internalized, and along with that, the rules of the prison are also internalized, and their behavior is controlled.

Bentham’s original idea for this prison structure has evolved over time as it has been taken up by different philosophers in different ways, most notably Foucault in the 1970s. As the idea has evolved and progressed into the postmodern era, the idea of what political commentator Reg Whitaker (1999) calls the “Participatory Panopticon” comes into play. In this version, there is no need for coercion, as those who are being watched readily consent and wish to participate. Whereas Bentham’s rendering of the Panopticon requires the element of coercion through fear of punishment, the Participatory Panopticon is consensual and no longer relies on such means. The current “consumer Panopticon” instead is “based on positive benefits where the worst sanction is exclusion” (p. 139). Not only does the Participatory Panopticon differ from Bentham’s in terms of its consensuality, but it is decentralized: that is, where the Panopticon was once defined by its centralized power (literally and physically located at the center of the prisoners’ cells), it is now decentralized and permeates everywhere. This physical centeredness is no longer needed, as technology now allows surveillance to a much higher and more pervasive degree. And whereas Bentham’s Panopticon did not actually watch the prisoners constantly, current technology allows unremitting surveillance. On top of this, no longer are people only watched by a single “Inspector,” but rather a network of many, all of whom may be watching for different reasons (p. 140). Whitaker compares this new Participatory Panopticon to Santa Claus, who is depicted as being magically aware of children’s behavior all throughout the year, which culminates in his review of a list of who has been naughty and who has been nice. This story is designed to compel children to obey their parents’ rules and act in a desirable manner so that they will be rewarded, and suggests that they are in some way being constantly watched and monitored by someone who is good-willed and offers gifts as incentive for good behavior. “Bad” children are not actively punished, but simply excluded from this positive reward, which proves to be an especially effective comparison, as the capitalist, consensual Panopticon acts by and large in the same manner. Like Santa Claus, the Participatory Panopticon is not looked at as some manipulating or evil villain, but rather as something that is positive, good-willed, and generally desirable.

Lacan’s Big Other comes into play here as the symbolic figure that we feel is constantly watching us and for whom we “perform” in hopes of gaining approval. The Big Other is representative of a vast network of objects, meanings, rules, and expectations and is the personification of symbolic processes. While the Big Other was once very clearly and distinctly represented (by God), it is a characteristic of the postmodern era that we no longer have any such centralized figure. In the same way that the Panopticon has become decentralized, the Big Other has spread out and become much more pervasive. The “Inspector” of Bentham’s Panopticon that has been replaced by an all-encompassing network of surveillance parallels the idea of God being replaced by a similarly omnipresent entity. As the symbolic order is no longer consolidated into a single figure and no longer housed in an office that is literally situated in the middle of things, one who wishes to please the Big Other must now please something of a different nature that is considerably more difficult to locate. The symbolic order, fragmented by this progression, has changed into something far less easy to pinpoint. This creates some (perhaps a quite large) degree of confusion and anxiety, as we still seek the approval of the Big Other, but are no longer sure where or by what means we can obtain it. In some ways, celebrities embody the new idea of succeeding in catching the eye of the Big Other, and it may be for that reason that celebrities are venerated and are of such fascination and obsessive interest to us.

Additionally, as our society has moved into the postmodern era, the progression of technology has certainly brought with it an increase in surveillance in virtually every realm of life. Eventually, it became normal for people to be subconsciously aware of always being watched by someone. Rather than maintain this in a subtle and covert manner, popular culture has brought the concept of always being watched and always being seen to the forefront of public consciousness. “Reality TV” programs, for instance, depict an array of “ordinary” people consenting to be followed around in their “ordinary” lives, showcasing them as they engage in their everyday, mundane activities. One interesting impact that this has had on popular culture is a fundamental change in the notion of celebrity. Whereas celebrities were once generally seen as having gained their celebrity status by virtue of their talent or their chosen profession, the definition of celebrity has now expanded to include those who are famous for no apparent reason. This blurs the line between celebrities and “normal” people, with everyday people who previously have no real claim to fame becoming celebrities and therefore catching the attention of the Big Other. One thing that I find interesting and rather bizarre in these programs is that reality TV stars generally do not acknowledge the presence of the cameras that are following them; as such, we are directed to perceive these people as simply going about their daily lives, assuming that their behavior is natural and not influenced in any impactful way by the presence of these cameras as the embodiment of the idea that everything they are doing will eventually be broadcasted to millions of people. The camera itself is a powerful and significant apparatus: it provides us with the ability to capture events and reproduce them for all the world to see, which has enormous implications for the way that our culture behaves.

The presence and prevalence of the camera, though it is generally treated by reality TV stars as simply blending in with the surroundings and not causing any sort of important change in their behavior, causes an inauthentic feel to these programs, something that is often intangible and difficult to put one’s finger on, but results in the vague feeling that what one is seeing is in some way fake or staged, even when explicitly stated or presented otherwise. This is also prevalent in television and film in general; people do not naturally go around proclaiming things in the way that characters depicted on screen do, and the dialogue is not representative of the way that people actually interact with one another. It is for this reason, perhaps, that films such as Elephant are seen as creating a more “realistic” environment and start to touch upon something that seems more authentic and true to life. I would suggest that such films succeed in this way because they are attempting to access what phenomenologists call the “pre-reflective realm,” which contains our everyday experiences as they are before we actively reflect on them or re-present them. Certainly, in producing films that attempt to access this realm, there is a concerted and active effort to go back and enter it. By virtue of reflecting upon it in order to access it, the pre-reflective realm is consequentially rendered no longer pre-reflective. In this circumstance, it occurs with aforethought and in a calculated manner rather than spontaneously. As such, there is something that is still lost in these attempts and an element of futility that is present in them (unless, of course, there is a way to access the pre-reflective realm in this way without actively reflecting on it and therefore allowing it to retain its pre-reflective quality. I am in no way arguing that this is absolutely not possible, but rather that I know of no such means by which to accomplish this).

In this era of constantly being watched, and constantly being aware that one is being watched, I further argue that it is possible that the nature of the pre-reflective realm itself may be changed. Does this postmodern condition of constant surveillance infringe upon the pre-reflective realm, as we must be always aware of being watched and therefore always think about how we look to others? Do we ever behave spontaneously and without taking these things into consideration, and therefore reflecting on them? How can we act in a truly pre-reflective manner when we are constantly reflecting on how others perceive us, most especially with the case of celebrity? Perhaps the ability to behave pre-reflectively has not been prohibited, but it has certainly in some way changed and conceivably become more difficult, as our realm of privacy becomes smaller and smaller, and our degree of visibility becomes all-important and all-encompassing.


References:
Reg Whitaker's The End of Privacy, 1999. NY, NY, The New Press

I’m learning about a lot of things that have come to be of special interest to me in my American Popular Culture course, and that’s what I feel like writing about now. Everything I will write about on this topic is either directly from the course, from Tony Myers’s book, Slavoj Žižek, or from Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. I found a very useful summary of the latter here. This isn’t anything I’m writing formally, it’s just mostly for my own entertainment, so I don’t really feel the need to go into any extensive bibliography beyond that. I’m not going to get into it much today, I’ll just give a short preface and get more into the heart of it tomorrow.

Before any discussion is started, it is important to understand what I mean when I speak of “popular culture,” as the term often brings to mind a certain field of meaning that may vary substantially from what I’m discussing. Popular culture can be thought of as a sort of giant group mind in which we’re all little neurons. Our culture is literally working something out through popular culture, and this manifests itself in a number of interesting ways. What we as a culture are really worried about becomes very apparent. Popular culture is immediately responsive to these things; that is, if we’re worried about something as a culture, it will immediately be exhibited one way or another in what we hold in pop culture. It’s worth studying because it contains everything about us: our politics, our economy, our psychological orientation, how we’re changing. It reacts to and mirrors our socioeconomic and political processes and our conflicts, and it does so fairly directly and immediately.

Certainly, in order to explain this view of pop culture, one must also explore the meaning of paradigms, the transfer from the modern to the postmodern, the importance of the 1950s in all of this, and quite a few other concepts so that the discussion is put into something of a proper context. I'm also going to add a preliminary discussion of Lacan's Real, Imaginary, Symbolic, and the Big Other. I say "preliminary" because at this point, I only understand them on a very elementary level, though I find them incredibly interesting and relevant to the exploration of pop culture.

Stay tuned!

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, maybe that's what has compelled me to make this? Or maybe it's that I've been encountering a lot of intriguing new things and don't really have much of an outlet for expressing my thoughts about them? Whatever the reason, here I am. I have a lot of things that I'd like to write about, mostly my weirdo philosophical musings and thoughts about life, society, straight edge, morality, religion, whatever comes to my mind when I'm in front of the keyboard. I'd also like to have a record of interesting things that I learn, and that's what I'll start with.


I'm taking a class on India right now, taught by one of the most brilliant people I've ever encountered. Not surprisingly, it's the first week of the class and I'm already thoroughly fascinated with it. It's one thing to memorize names of cities and demographic information and vocabulary words and all of the other things that don't matter at all in the end, but it's another to get the opportunity to understand the way that someone else perceives reality, and to recognize that our Western way of viewing the world isn't THE way of viewing things, it's just our way. That's what is most compelling to me in learning about these things. I don't want to delve too deeply in that right now, though, as it's something that deserves more focused attention.

So anyway, there is a civilization that existed from around 3000 BCE until roughly 1500 BCE in the Indus Valley area that is known as the Harappan Civilization. This was around the same time as ancient Egypt, but is much less known and celebrated, though in many ways it was far more sophisticated and elaborate. We know about ancient Egypt largely because of the survival of large structures like the pyramids, but the Harappans didn't have that kind of stone and weren't able to build structures that were especially large. Instead, they used a kind of brick that, by design, could only support a structure that was two or three stories high before caving in. As such, this civilization wasn't even rediscovered until the 1920s. Cities are still being discovered in the thousands of miles that the civilization covered. Archaeologists estimate that there were about 50,000 people per city, and the cities were all identical. every brick is exactly the same size and shape. All of the streets run directly north-south or east-west, meaning that the cities all existed on a sort of grid. The alleys are exactly half the width of the streets, and the streets are exactly half the width of the larger avenues. The residences (which are also identical) had indoor plumbing and running water in the houses, tiled bathrooms, things that are ridiculous to imagine that houses thousands of years ago would have had. They have a written language that, according to my professor, we haven't been able to decipher, though things I've looked at online say that we've been able to decipher some of it. The tools, pots, etc. are the same in every city. Societies typically change as time progresses, but everything stayed relatively the same here over its 1,500-year span.

Around 1500 BCE, the culture collapsed. We don't know why, though it's estimated that some sort of natural catastrophe may have caused the cities along the Indus River to be wiped out, and the peripheral cities were abandoned as a result. It's so ridiculous to think about in so many ways. Of course, like I said before, it's hard to imagine such an advanced civilization so long ago, but it's also a trip to think about what would have happened if the civilization wasn't wiped out. Would they have been invaded and conquered? From what is known of them, the Harappans weren't a violent people. Would they have continued in their developments and advanced even further in sophistication, or remained stagnant? What do their records say? It must be so exhilirating to be able to decipher a lost language and uncover the things that these people felt were important enough to record. I'd really like to learn more about this, maybe more developments have occured and we've learned more about them.

Regardless, it's endlessly interesting to me.