Body and Time : Bodily Rhythms and Social Synchronism in the Digital Media Society [1 ed.] 9781443868686, 9781443847155

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Body and Time

Body and Time: Bodily Rhythms and Social Synchronism in the Digital Media Society

Edited by

Bianca Maria Pirani and Thomas S. Smith

Body and Time: Bodily Rhythms and Social Synchronism in the Digital Media Society, Edited by Bianca Maria Pirani and Thomas S. Smith This book first published 2013 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Copyright © 2013 by Bianca Maria Pirani and Thomas S. Smith and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-4715-1, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-4715-5

This book is dedicated to the memory of Professor Ivan Varga

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Figures............................................................................................. ix List of Tables ............................................................................................... x Preface ........................................................................................................ xi Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Bianca Maria Pirani and Thomas S. Smith PART I: METHODOLOGICAL ISSUES, BODIES, AND THE COURSE OF TIME Chapter One ................................................................................................. 8 Bodies of Distraction Petra Löffler Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 21 Time Capital and Social Gravity: Two New Concepts for Sociology of Time Marian Preda ChapterThree ............................................................................................. 39 The Sensory Inscribed Body vs. the Rhythmic Body: Toward an Embodied Sociology Bianca Maria Pirani Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 61 Timing is Everything: Activating Identity Work Anne F. Eisenberg and Ryan S. Graham PART II: CASE STUDIES FROM METROPOLITAN CONTEXTS Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 84 Territorialized Everydayness between Proxemics and Diastemics: Space-time Rhythms in a Context of Acceleration Alicia Lindón

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Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 106 Regulation of Bodies and Things: A Structurationist Note on Robust Innovation in Regional Clusters Robert J. Schmidt Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 132 Actors’ Life Rhythms in the Metropolitan Art Worlds Chan Langaret Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 150 Bodily Rhythms and Social Rhythms in the Resorts of the French Alps: Winter Sport, Nightlife, and Seasonality near Mont Blanc André Suchet PART III: BODILY RHYTHMS, SYNCHRONIZATION, AND EMERGENT STRUCTURE Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 164 Synchronizing Movement and Perception: Determinants and Predictors of Body-Sense Anabela Pereira Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 186 Synchronization of Forms of Vitality Dynamics in Music Therapy Zaira Jagudina Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 207 Intergroup Conflict, Cohesion, and Interpersonal Rewards: An Experimental Study Stephen Benard Chapter Twelve ....................................................................................... 230 Through Space, Against Time: A Glance at the Phenomenon of Orientalization Alessandro Porrovecchio Chapter Thirteen ...................................................................................... 262 Synchronization and Social Interaction: Innate Mechanisms in Attachment and Emergent Structure in Social Life Thomas S. Smith Postface ................................................................................................... 284

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 3-1: Paula Levine, San Francisco Baghdad project (http://shadowsfromanotherplace.net) Figure 3-2: Diagram by Csíkszentmihályi (1997), demonstrating how different mental states can be conceived of as the product of challenges and abilities (1997) Figure 3-3: Examples of receptive fields of certain bimodal neurons present in the macaque’s F4 premotor area Figure 4-1: Identity Matrix showing Self, Group, and Collective Identity Points Figure 4-2: Synchronicity Figure 4-3: Asynchronicity occurs when there is a mismatch between an activated identity point and the appropriate identity for a given interaction Figure 9-1: Body-Sense according to changes in Body Performance when starting to practice exercise (mean) Figure 9-2: Body Sense when doing exercise, by number of times per week (mean) Figure 11-1: Predicted values of choosing to enforce norms, by conflict, outgroup competition, and teammate contribution Figure 11-2: Predicted probabilities of choosing to enforce norms, by conflict, outgroup competition, and teammate contribution Figure 13-1b: Arousal Depot Cycle (Smith 2012) Figure 13-2: Coupled Oscillators Produce the Dyadic Hyperstructure (Smith 2012) Figure 13-3: Bistability in the Toddler’s Rehearsal of Separation

LIST OF TABLES

Table 7-1: Source: Caisse des congés spectacles/Cespra/DEPS 2012 (data 2007) Table 7-2: Source: Caisse des congés spectacles/Cespra/DEPS 2012 (data 2007) Table 9-1: Correlation Coefficients between the Variables that define Body Performance, by gender (Kendall’s tau-b correlation) Table 9-2: Determinants of Body-Sense (Hierarchical Regression) Table 9-3: Predictors of Body-Sense (Binary Logistic Regression) Table 11-1: Summary of theoretical predictions. Highlighted predictions correspond to study hypotheses Table 11-2: Estimated Multilevel Regression Coefficients for the Effect of Conflict, Outgroup Competition, and the Control Variables on Norm Enforcement and Contribution.

PREFACE ROBERTO CIPRIANI (ROMA TRE UNIVERSITY)

Body and time represent a binomial, a bond which is not easy to dissolve. Each body is collocated in a time and this means a continual resistance in terms of confrontation, challenge and struggle. When all is said and done, this temporal dimension must be recognised as having an advantage over the body precisely because of its non corporeity. The consumption of time has a character which is opposite to that of the body: the former is an uninterrupted sequence and therefore destined to last, at least as long as there is no need to measure it, make calculations or define the range of its limits expressed in units of seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries, millenniums and so on. Besides, time per se is not capable of self-measurement, the Bergsonian conception of durée, of imagining its end, of comparing itself with other forms of temporality. This is not the case for the human body (including animals); it is fairly aware of its precariousness, the passing of time, the possibility of death and the relative risks there are to existence. This asymmetrical rapport between body and time, however, allows the former to control the latter and not the contrary. At this point it is difficult to establish where the greater power lies. Clearly time outlives the body and not vice versa. In such a concordia discors all the fascination of interplay between the two variables is to be found, perennially in dialogue (from generation to generation). The body shows signs of aging - the drying of the skin, wrinkles, lack of elasticity, and there are other indicators as well - or resistance to the ‘insults’ of time. The latter continues along its path ‘imperturbable’ without any substantial differences of note: the month of March, 2013 in Rome was not very different from the month of March, in 44 BC, the ides of March, when Julius Caesar met his death; or the mangled body of a dictator for life no longer exists today, but time continues to flow, ‘indifferent’ to the events and the many bodies that have passed through history for a brief moment and then vanished.

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Even the group of academics who for many years have been working in the International Sociological Association following the same process designed by the double binary of the body and time factor: some of them have left their significant mark, but are no longer with us (above all the contribution of Ivan Varga, comes to mind - the promoter who, from the start, had a leading role in the Working Group 03 ‘The Body in the Social Sciences’ and then the Research Committee 54 within the International Sociological Association). We continue to hold the flag while waiting to pass it on to others, in particular, to other subjects and other bodies who will carry on the corporeity struggle of academics aboard the trajectory of unstoppable time. The body-time couple is part of a series of constant connections in informal language and in sociological analysis: length-width, heavenearth, black-white, yes-no, man-woman, life-death, heart-mind, ChristmasEaster, night-day, near-far, zero-one and so on. It is a question of bijective relationships - two parts of a couple, each with its exclusive identity, directly in juxtaposition with the other to which it is connected. One could also speak about a situation in which an inversely bidirectional parallelism reigns in that if the direction of the body trajectory goes in one sense the temporal variable goes in a diametrically opposite sense. And yet the two directions remain complementary to the human experience, one unique profile. In other words, if the body is destined to consummation, to become dust and, therefore, to annihilation, time does not undergo the same process; it follows its own trajectory in an uninterrupted sequence, always towards an indefinite future, if not, infinity. Such an ambivalent situation between body and time collocated within the same existential river-bed does not produce irreparable contradictions, but rather gives rise to compensation and recovery, to equilibrium and synergies, to convergences and co-optations. To a hypothesis of this nature, the contrapuntal progression in The Art of the Fugue by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) appears emblematic and allusive – so much so that it continues even today to inspire and excite numerous social actors. It was the intention of the great eighteenth century composer to distance himself from contemporary fashion and to emphasize the ups-and-downs of the human character, its advances and its withdrawals, its accelerations and its slowing downs, its sharp and hard tones, but nonetheless, harmonious and pensive; all are well conveyed by the diverse movements of the two hands over the keyboard of the harpsichord or the organ (or the pianoforte of more recent times); a tight dialogue is woven between themes and contrapuntal, subject and context, leading instrument and instruments of accompaniment, exactly like the

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rapport between body and time in which rule and imagination are stretched to their extreme consequences. Recourse to rectus and inversus, (almost the two sides of the same coin), proves nothing more than the duplicity of human experience, balancing between joy and suffering, a sense of omnipotence and the realization of impotence, the experience of freedom and the conditioning of context. There is a certain mirror image, a symmetry between body and time, almost giving further evidence of the influence of mirror neurons producing exchanged glances of intentions and objectives to reach. The non homogenous progression of body and time respond to current criteria that can, in effect, be surpassed and wiped out. In the end, however, it is time which remains in the game, guaranteeing the continuum in progress. Today’s executor of Bach’s Art of the Fugue is none other than a trained and expert body that re-proposes the contents of a first class artistic experience after 250 years; a time lapse, therefore, with a substantial separation from the aims of the long-gone composer who signed the final fugue of the cycle with a fragment of the 239 beats, ending in B flat, A, C and B major, that is the notation in German corresponding to the letters B, A, C, H; the composer himself wanted to seal his existential artistic bow with a more than eloquent signature. The Canadian, Angela Hewitt, today’s most faithful and attentive interpreter of Bach, uses the essential corporeal elements – her hands – and above all, her mind, to organize and implement the development of the musical execution, bringing the art of Bach to life after centuries, thus breaking the diachronic barrier of temporal distance, and recreating atmosphere and messages of great efficacy. It is worth remembering that Johann Sebastian Bach’s infirm and confined body was no obstacle in leaving another trace of his musical message, particularly through the choral work ‘Before Thy Throne Oh Lord I Stand’ dictated to his son, also a composer; an extreme act of devotion from a body ready for death, but still capable of projecting itself in time, and beyond corporal survival. It is in this manner that the body is victorious over death, going beyond the limits of the final event. The body, in other words, after the predictable defeat bound to the end of existence takes its revenge over time.

INTRODUCTION BIANCA MARIA PIRANI AND THOMAS S. SMITH

In this age of information technology, distances collapse, worlds collide, and time is transcended. Or so goes the story of the evolving information revolution. Yet there is another way of observing this technological shift–a way that makes us wonder whether this shift might not be interfering with the inborn clocks – biological, physical, social and natural–with their own rhythms that manage our physiology. They respond to the unifying pressures of the information age in different ways. Circadian shifts, for example, have been wired by evolution into human physiology. The onset of night produces neurochemical changes in our brains that prepare us for sleep, and sunrise produces effects which awaken us and bring us to a state of alertness. Yet, these same inborn shifts are under pressure when night and day become irrelevant to the storage and processing of information. Pathologies of health and well-being have been observed in those who work by night and sleep during the day. Other effects appear in the fragmentation of families and communities. For these and other reasons, there are strong pressures in our physiology and in our social life to synchronize bodily and social clocks. But how and when this happens are very complex questions. Some of this complexity is now better understood than it was until a few decades ago. One conclusion backed by research in the biological sciences is that a basic characteristic of all living matter is rhythm, and this is true for no matter what level of organism, tissue, or cell we focus on. Biological rhythms are marked by both continuous and periodic variation, and have evolved enabling the individual to better adapt to the environment. The history of this, physiologically embodied adaptation, is an evolutionary record of the memory of the human species. Biorhythmic principles have a genetic base; it is assumed that they formed in human beings millions of years ago and have continued to develop through the evolutionary process. Genes, cerebral organization and culture all support

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Introduction

a very complex network, one that ultimately generated the brain of Homo sapiens. Like all living organisms, the human body is organized according to a specific time structure, where all vital functions show a temporal variability which can be described by periodic functions ranging in the length of their cycle from milliseconds to months, years, or even decades. The importance of this time structure for normal functioning has been established in many branches of human physiology. A classic example is the dependence of a normal reproductive function on the pulsatile secretion of sexual hormones. Another is the rhythmic influence of sensory, motor, autonomic, and hormonal oscillations on normal sleep activity. More recent research has even begun to describe in detail how multiple oscillators work together to regulate blood pressure. Extensive mapping of the time structure of humans is presently underway as a preliminary step for the detection of the earliest changes associated with health and disease. In human bodies, biological clocks keep track of seconds, minutes, days, months, and years. The “timekeepers” involved are as different as stop-watches are from sundials. Some are accurate and inflexible, others less reliable, but subject to conscious control. Some are set by planetary cycles, others by molecular rhythms. In humans, as well as in less cognitively sophisticated organisms, many biological rhythms follow the frequencies of periodical environmental inputs, while others are determined by internal “timekeepers” independent of any known environmental counterparts. External influences are always present, however, they are not simply superimposed on the endogenous rhythms generated by our biological “timekeepers.” Instead, these influences are modulated by them, a process which is essential to the most sophisticated tasks the brain and body perform. The following chapters move beyond the time of clocks and calendars in order to study time as it is embedded in social interactions, social organisation, social practices and knowledge, in artefacts, in the body, and in the environment. They look at the many different ways in which time is experienced in relation to the various contexts and institutions of social life. Among the topics discussed are time in the areas of health, education, work, globalisation, and environmental change. We have approached this complicated subject not with answers but with questions: First, can we understand the appearance of modern information technologies from the same perspectives that have been brought to bear on other technological changes? Second, what methodological and conceptual challenges arise and how are contemporary theoretical frameworks useful in their analysis?

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Third, what can be drawn from related questions raised in other disciplines? For example, modern non-equilibrium approaches to the complexity of physical systems (Prigogine 1980), along with modern network theory, may have a bearing on the analysis of the coupling and nesting of bodily and social clocks. What, if any, are their implications? Fourth, what are the dysfunctional effects when the synchronisation of bodily and social clocks fails? How are these related to challenges posed by modern information technologies? We see the first question as part of the general story of other technological changes over the course of human and social evolution, while the social use of biological rhythms is an underdeveloped subject in the understanding of modern temporality. It is this missing link in the research that has supported the widespread and commonly held notion that there is an inherent opposition between “cyclical time” and “linear time,” between time as a “receptacle of events” and time as it is considered in modern scientific philosophical thought. “Cyclical time” expresses the regularity of biological cycles that social scientists have described as the “eternal return”—a notion that acknowledges the periodicity, recurrence, on-again-off-again, isochronal character of intersecting social worlds. Linear time, on the other hand, is about planning, about instrumentality. Hand in hand with it comes intentionality, an orientation towards the future and the pursuit of goals. Ultimately, the alliance between science and modern technologies has gaining power over nature as its objective. Relative to the massive shifts in social organisation brought about by settled agriculture and the appearance of written language, the effects of modern information technologies are still difficult to gauge. Nonetheless they are present. We know that every important advance in technology has been associated with significant changes in personal and social organsation, and some of these advances have been as much out of sync. with bodily and social clocks as are the current changes in the processing and storing of information. In their deep evolutionary roots, social clocks and bodily clocks were first tuned to light and darkness. But over the centuries, this connection has weakened. Fire opened up the night, torches and candlelight shifted day from room to room, and electricity illuminated whole communities. In the following chapters, most of the contributors address this connection indirectly. Their work, for the most part, does not reach into the physiology of social life, but rather, focuses on the enumeration and description – sometimes with an explanation of the observable bodily and social rhythms ranging across a diverse empirical terrain – from dance, music, sports, calendar structures s and collective behaviour seen in

4

Introduction

congregations and assemblies,. Not only the time structure of real world systems is considered, but also cultural systems in which the transcendence of time is of paramount importance – for example, in theatre, movies, literature, myth, and religious practices. The social use of biological rhythms is an underdeveloped subject in the study of modern temporality. Science has typically been aligned with the linear conception of time. In the hands of modern technologies, it has had as its ultimate objective the conquest of power over nature. The contributions in this publication have been organised into three sections. Part One challenges the argument that tradition performs a limiting function on bodily and social rhythms. But is it possible to ascertain how deeply tradition or culture can reach into evolutionarily conserved physiological rhythms? Illustrations of instances where physiology resists cultural controls are numerous, and a few will be considered here. Pertinent to the issues of this subject, for example, are arguments concerning bodily boundaries. For example, the reigning paradigm of development and growth in the social sciences has privileged the autonomous individual. Individual development is assumed to move towards increasing autonomy from parents and carers. Yet, there is remarkable variation among individuals in how much developmental growth they complete. There are two important caveats to this school of thought. One reminds us of interindividual variability – some subjects remain at emotionally immature levels while others grow increasing in strength and capacity towards independence and self-support. The second caveat forces us to recognize a fact about human life that flies in the face of the argument that individual development occurs centripetally – that growth is always measured in units of differentiation and separation from other subjects. What is the most natural condition for human beings? It is not separation. Rather, it is attachment – that is, they function as part of a dyad, a family, or a small network. The extreme state of human separation is illustrated by the lives of hermits, ascetics, and saints, men who spend their lives in isolation without contact with others, without sociability, without significant personal relationships. Like the child whose mother has taught it that the real world is dangerous, alive with pathogens, with potential threats on all sides, such subjects eventually withdraw into a world of illusion and fantasy. Eternal solitude is the road to pathology, both emotional and intellectual. The default state for humans is always the dyad. Raise a person’s anxiety, and they will look for parenting; this is normally unconscious. Moreover it occurs at rates that are inversely related to a person’s

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emotional and intellectual maturity. The paradigm for this default state is, of course, the infan-carer dyad – the first relationship in every person’s life. How this first relationship functions – whether as a matter of secure attachment or as one marked by anxieties and avoidance – sets the emotional level of all subsequent relationships in a person’s life. Persons are all “prisoners of their childhood,” to borrow a phrase from the clinical lexicon. We reproduce patterns in our adult interactions that were present in our infant-carer relationships. In classic psychotherapy, this repetition is called the ’transference’ a term originally used in the early work of Freud and subsequently undergone various kinds of generalizations. Perhaps the most important of these is that many clinicians now speak of transference as an ubiquitous phenomenon in everyday interactions, choices, and attachments. In addition to unconsciously attaching ourselves to others who are reminiscent of significant others in our past – a parent, a teacher, a mentor, a coach – we find ourselves in relationships with others who are of comparable functional levels to our own; that is, they are similarly separated or differentiated from their parents as we are from ours. The explanation for this is given in the principle of ‘assortative mating,’ a concept developed on the basis of clinical evidence in family therapy, particularly family systems theory (see Bowen 1966, Kerr and Bowen 1977). Attachment to someone who is far less mature makes us a parent and is burdensome. And, vice versa. Attachments to others who are far more mature makes us the child, the dependent, the burden. Seldom can separation from others be sustained over long periods without giving rise to anxieties and crippling fears. The worst of these is the fear of abandonment, the fear that one is left behind, outside of the family circle, in an unfamiliar place, vulnerable to injury and suffering. In some subjects, this fear alternates with another fear, that of ’engulfment.’ Engulfment is the sense that our own boundaries are breaking down, that we are experiencing what Erikson called identity diffusion. Among subjects diagnosed with “borderline personality disorder,” this can become a cyclic switchover, one fear dominating only to be displaced by an other, and for this rhythmic cycle to recur again and again ad infinitum . Part Two opens a cross-cultural perspective on the social construction of bodily rhythms. For example, rhythmic patterns associated with sexuality and age-grading have been widely described in the literature of the social sciences. Part Three focuses on synchronisation as a powerful means of ruling time. Strong illustrations of this are found in the ritual practices of social life including the movement from memory to action — from previous experiences stored in memory to the execution of action. Furthermore, we also take up the implications of the synchronisation of

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Introduction

subjects in social interaction for the purpose of understanding social integration which requires us to analyse the temporal features of infant– carer interaction. Synchronising the interaction and attachment of parents and newborns ultimately has the effect of raising the comfort level of families and of others linked to them in social networks. The same comfort enhancement occurs in whole communities when synchronisation has been successful. Perhaps readers will find our book academic in style, nonetheless it makes a sizeable body of scientific literature available to the non-scientific audience. Empirical illustrations range from studies of working memory in problem solving to attention deficit disorder; from sensory inscribed vs. rhythmic body to innate mechanisms in synchronization and interaction. It is through focusing on the complexities of social time that we explore ways of keeping together what social science traditions have taken apart, namely, time with reference to the personal/public sphere, to local–global diversities, and to natural–cultural dimensions of social life. This timebased approach engages with, yet differs sharply from, postmodernist writings. It suggests ways of not merely deconstructing but also reconstructing both commonsense and the comprehension of the social sciences. The time-structure of our bodies is, after all, only partly within our skins, for we are open systems, unable to detach ourselves from the beats of this nature of which we are part. It is a book that will attract wide interest especially students, researchers and academics in the social sciences, neurosociology, digital studies and further afield, for example, in health, philosophy, education, and anthropology.

PART I METHODOLOGICAL ISSUES, BODIES, AND THE COURSE OF TIME

CHAPTER ONE BODIES OF DISTRACTION PETRA LÖFFLER

Abstract With the rise of the modern industrial society, distraction was no longer considered as a disability in opposition to the mental faculty of attention. According to the philosopher Immanuel Kant, distraction became a necessity, and indeed even an art of living, as regards the body’s need for regeneration. Life sciences have investigated how a balance between work and leisure, stress and relaxation is to be reached. The article reconstructs a genealogy of distraction, focuses on its importance especially for what Michel Foucault has called taking care of oneself, and in this manner shows how distraction has become normalized. Keywords: Distraction; Leisure; Stress

Problems with distraction Wherever we are, what we hear is mostly noise. When we ignore it, it disturbs us. When we listen to it, we find it fascinating. (John Cage: The Future of Music: Credo, 1937)

Distraction is a state of mind in which we resonate with and respond to a variety of external and internal stimuli that affect the body at the same time. In philosophy, distraction was regarded for a long time as the opposite of attention and concentration. Signified as inattention, dissipation, or diversion, distraction was also considered as a major force of subjectification in response to what Michel Foucault has called taking care of oneself. As early as the sixteenth century, the French philosopher Michel de Montaigne, in his famous Essais, recommended diversion as a

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comfort against sufferings of the soul (1998). Thus, the disregard of distraction in the philosophical tradition is grounded on a rejection of the body and its needs. Yet in modern times, where an increasing number of sensual stimuli assail human beings simultaneously, the distribution of attention––which means to be distracted––has become a necessity. “The human sciences have left distraction unthought,” Paul North has claimed in his recent study The Problem of Distraction (2012, 9).1 This can be only true if one subordinates distraction under the categories of thought and its history especially in philosophy. Thinking distraction in the way North does only reveals the paradoxes of thinking the unthought. But, as I will argue, distraction is rather a changing bodily state, or better, a phase, a stadium of the body. Now it is also a subject of the discourses and disciplines that have investigated the human body. And it is in the realm of these discourses and disciplines that distraction has its own genealogy. To highlight the manifold traits of this genealogy I will speak of bodies of distraction. Evidence for this can be found in the multitude of writings on the problems of distraction, inattention, or absentmindedness in discourses such as medicine, anthropology, pedagogy, physiology, and cultural theory, since the eighteenth century. Even in the writings of the Swiss philosopher and mathematician Jean Pierre Crousaz, distraction had become a worthy subject for scientific consideration. For instance, he claimed in his Logique, published in 1720 (1:425): “La distraction est une espèce particulière d’obstacle à l’attention.”2 But obstacles have to be met and overcome— and not only in the realm of mathematical logic. Thus, Crousaz had to face a shift in scientific attention towards distraction. Finally, in the late eighteenth century, a debate on distraction arose that questioned the pros and cons of several modes of distraction— absentmindedness on the one hand, diversion on the other. Distraction was no longer only regarded as a destructive and dangerous mental force that cannot be controlled, but also as a necessary activity of the human body. At that time, and for the first time in the history of thought, the term gained an accepted positive meaning, because bodily diversions such as promenading, horse riding, or ball games were recommended as a helpful medicine against mental stress or breakup. In his book on the insanities of scholars, published in 1768, the Swiss physician and pharmacist Samuel Tissot explained why such bodily activities are useful to restore mental health (see Tissot [1768] 1976, 58). In his approach, distraction is closely 1

North traces back his notion of a primal distraction, which is not diversion, to the thinking of Aristotle and his disturbing considerations of “not-always-thinking.” 2 “Distraction is a particular kind of obstacle to the attention.”

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Chapter One

related to the necessity of being aware and taking care of oneself. Regarding its importance for a balance between work and leisure, exhaustion, and regeneration, voluntary distraction had become, without a doubt, a technology of the self in Foucault’s sense (see Foucault 1988). At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the former opposition between attention and distraction was reformulated in human sciences as a problem of time. The question was now: Can one be attentive to different things at the same moment of time? The answer offered by the German ophthalmologist Carl Heinrich Dzondi was “Yes,” because the human mind is able to switch between different objects very quickly, in an unnoticeable fraction of a second: Daher kann ein lebhafter Geist auf mehrere und verschiedene Gegenstände zugleich seine Aufmerksamkeit richten, weil er jedem nur einen sehr kleinen Theil der Zeit widmet …(Dzondi 1816, 530; emphasis added)3

Dzondi had discovered that attention is attributed to time and is able to split, to dissociate itself between several objects. This distributed or dissociated attention is used as a synonym for distraction. This means that attention and distraction cannot any longer be regarded as distinguishable mental states, and hence their assumed opposition collapses. At the same time this argument indicates a new spirit of investigating the faculties of the human senses as well as the capacities of the human mind. Mental states were more and more considered as embedded in corporeal processes that can persist only for a certain quantum of time, irrespective of how small or big this quantum may be. This general temporalization implies a notion of the human body committed to fatigue and exhaustion––a body with only limited resources that have to be renewed frequently.4 Along with the rise of modern industrialized societies the rhythms of the human body, and the alteration between work and leisure, stress and relaxation, have become an important subject in modern life sciences. Most physiologists of that age were convinced that corporeal as well as mental processes lasting in time could be measured. And that is exactly what experimental physiology proceeded to do in the second half of the nineteenth century––with strong and almost inexhaustible effort.5 3

“Therefore an agile mind is able to direct its attention to several and different subjects simultaneously by applying only a very little part of time to each of them….” 4 This notion of an exhaustible human body is analyzed by Anson Rabinbach in The Human Motor: Energy, Fatigue, and the Origins of Modernity (1990). 5 Research in life sciences includes for instance studies on fatigue (Angelo Mosso), on nervous exhaustion (George M. Beard) or on work rhythm (Emil Kraepelin).

Bodies of Distraction

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Distraction as distributed attention Immanuel Kant was probably the first philosopher to develop a positive notion of distraction as distributed attention. As early as in his Kritik der reinen Vernunft (Critique of Pure Reason) from 1781, he identified empirical consciousness, which organizes perception without touching understanding or reason, as “an sich zerstreut,” that is as distracted per se (Kant 1974, 1:137). In his later treatise Anthropologie in pragmatischer Hinsicht (Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View), published in 1798, he defines distraction as distributed attention and distinguishes between two modes: voluntary (dissipatio) and involuntary distraction (absentia): Zerstreuung (distractio) ist der Zustand einer Abkehrung der Aufmerksamkeit (abstractio) von gewissen herrschen-den Vorstellungen, durch Verteilung derselben auf andere, ungleichartige. Ist sie vorsätzlich, so heißt sie Dissipation; die unwillkürliche aber ist Abwesenheit (absentia) von sich selbst. (Kant 1968, §44:518, emphasis added)6

According to Kant, distraction is an art of living that has to be exercised and performed to achieve a balance between stress and relaxation. That is why he denounces absentmindedness, which is unsocial, and welcomes all kinds of sociable entertainments––to be distracted for Kant means first of all to be entertained in a community. With the strict division between labour and leisure established in the nineteenth century, the need for distraction was increasingly recognized among scientists, teachers, and physicians. The Swiss reformist educator Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi had already assigned a value to distraction as a pedagogical tool. He recommended giving pupils two tasks simultaneously so that they have to distribute their attention. With this advice he considered possibilities for a training of involuntary distraction. According to Pestalozzi, distributed attention helps to automatize body techniques such as writing or drawing. In his Handbuch der physiologischen Optik (Treatise on Physiological Optics), Hermann von Helmholtz, one of the leading figures of experimental physiology in the nineteenth century, had declared that switching attention was normal: “It is natural for the attention to be distracted from one thing to another” (1962, 3:498). As Jonathan Crary has claimed in his study on modern regimes of perception 6

“Distraction (distractio) is the state of diverting attention (abstraction) away from certain ruling ideas by dispersing it among other, dissimilar ones. If the distraction is intentional, it is called dissipation; but if it is involuntary it is absentmindedness (absentia)” (Louden 2006, 100f).

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Chapter One

“switching our attention rapidly from one thing to another” was, in the cultural logic of capitalism, accepted as natural behaviour (1999, 29f). In physiology, experiments revealed the temporality of mental processes, especially their temporal limits. The duration of a single act of attention and the dispersive effects of simultaneous stimuli were of special interest. In many experiments the reaction time of subjects in relation to expected or unexpected stimuli played an important part. Among others, the German physiologist Wilhelm Wundt—who in 1879 established the world’s first psychology laboratory, at the University of Leipzig—discovered reaction time would be much shorter when subjects knew which kind of stimulus they had to anticipate. Other experiments had shown that the human senses could be trained to react automatically, especially in anticipated situations, and therefore would no longer need special attention.7 In this context, distributed attention had become an important source for anticipation. What was surprising for most of the experimenters, however, was the fact that they weren’t able to single out or to isolate attention. All they found was distraction. It was the French psychologist Théodule Ribot who linked this omnipresence of distraction to a general condition of psychic life, namely change. In his 1889 book Psychologie de l’attention he also distinguished between two types of attention, involuntary and voluntary. Whereas the former does not require any effort, Ribot argued, the latter can be trained and is therefore a social product of education and exercise. That is why he claimed that attention is an artificial and even abnormal state of mind, which can persist only for a very short time––hence distraction is normal: L’attention, sous le deux formes, est un état exceptionell, qui ne peut durer longtemps, parce qu’il est en contradiction avec la condition fondamentale de la vie psychique: le changement. (1889, 4)

A consequence of this notion was that attention, if it persisted too long, would cause serious mental diseases. According to Ribot it led to intellectual emptiness accompanied by dizziness––this is what Kant rejected as absorption or absentmindedness. These forms of voluntary attention or internal distraction were regarded as pathological mental states that had to be banished from psychic life because they contradicted its need for change. 7

At the beginning of the twentieth century Hugo Müsterberg has testified the roadworthiness by using projected film simulating the gaze of drivers in big city traffic. Walther Moede, like Münsterberg a German psychotechnologist, has also conducted such tests by using a tachistoscope.

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In the same year, the psychiatrist Pierre Janet published his L’Automatisme psychologique: Essai de psychologie expérimentale sur les formes inférieures de l’activité humaine, in which he presented his experiments on psychic automatisms. Janet worked as an assistant to Jean-Martin Charcot at the Salpêtrière, where he analyzed subjects suffering from hysteria. There, Janet discovered that a certain division of consciousness, which he called désagrégation psychologique, is the normal state of mind. And it is this division of consciousness that protects human beings from overwhelming sensual stimuli such as pain—by the simple measure of paying no attention to them (see Janet 1889).8 In this regard, distraction has become a protective shield, a way to anaesthetize the human senses in critical situations. Janet’s psychopathological model of a dissociative consciousness deals with a body that acts autonomously against what is hurting it. At the same time, in his Analyse der Empfindungen (Analysis of Sensations), the physiologist-philosopher Ernst Mach cast his vote in favour of a dissociate subjectivity (Mach 1906, 3).

Sites of distraction The nineteenth century witnessed the rise and establishment of the entertainment industry––starting with the panorama and its many variations, such as the moving panorama or the mareorama. This first “optical mass media in a strict sense” (Oettermann 1980, 9) offered a spectacle for the human senses, which means it frequently provoked bodily reactions like dizziness or even sickness––supposedly especially among female visitors. For contemporary physiologists such as Jan Purkinje those reactions resulted from a disorientation of the nervous system caused by conflicting signals. Many scientists of the nineteenth century had analyzed distraction as a mode of bodily excitement caused by stimuli that frequently overwhelm the senses. Stephan Oettermann linked those physical experiences to the thrill of carousel riders––thrills that were wanted not only by children and were at once criticized by the moralists of the day (ibid., 13). In the modern metropolis signs of modernization occured with growing speed: industrialization demanded mobilization of an increasing part of the population, which came more and more to live in great cities where traffic grew, as well as attacks on the senses. Characterizing the severe effects of modernization in industrialized societies at the beginning of the twentieth 8

In later publications Janet prefers the term dissociation to characterize this state of mind. Sigmund Freud has refused Janet’s notion of dissociation as a collapse of mental synthesis.

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century, in a study on the increasing population in New York City, Michael Davis uses the notion of “hyperstimulus.” Davis gathers under this term all attacks on the senses to which big-city dwellers are exposed. Ben Singer has adopted Davis’s term to highlight the fears of modernization, especially the anxiety over the “terrors of big-city traffic” intensified by sensational newspaper reports, for instance on car crashes and the accidents suffered by passers-by (Singer 1995, 79). These reports not only fuel the fears of city dwellers but also activate their drive toward the thrills of sensation. In this regard, Singer has argued, the arrival of cinema at the horizon of mass culture marks a climax: “The rise of cinema culminated the trend toward vivid, powerful sensation” (ibid., 90). And Tom Gunning (1995) speaks of an “aesthetic of astonishment” as the mode of reception of early cinema and other popular forms of mass entertainment where the public is thrilled by sensations. To summarize this argument, modernity’s demand for mobility creates new bodies of distraction: the search for entertainment goes hand in hand with a desire to alter the body’s normal state. Deliberate bodily effects like dizziness or astonishment express this desire the best. And with the rise of the cinema a new regime of distraction was established. In 1895 the first public presentations of the new mass medium took place and the New York amusement park on Coney Island opened. In the same year, Georg Hirth, a German art physiologist, published a short essay entitled Warum sind wir zerstreut? (Why Are We Distracted?). According to Hirth, the human mind is active simultaneously in several sections of the brain where different streams of attention, conscious as well as unconscious, move in different directions (1895, 64): “gleichzeitig verschieden gerichtete Ströme von Aufmerksamkeit mit und ohne Bewusstsein.” Once more, this distributed attention––voluntary as well as involuntary––is a synonym for distraction. Evidence for a distributed attention can be found in everyday life, for instance when one notices surrounding noises or changing lights while reading a book. For Hirth the root cause of this was clear: We are distracted because the synthesis of our mental activities is never complete, on the contrary it consists, like a kaleidoscope, of many separate mental acts, which are combined in a changing manner. In a broader sense, distraction is also a necessity for sanity. Hirth refers to the common notion that mental activities, especially those requiring a huge amount of concentration, have to be disrupted from time to time. It is also widely accepted by psychotherapists that distractive bodily movements such as drumming with fingers helps the human organism to recover from stress. Hirth pays much attention to those little

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diversions caused by muscular movements. So, one has to conclude, body activities have always played a crucial role for regimes of distraction. When, at the end of the nineteenth century, cinema entered the realm of mass entertainment, the public was once more thrilled by the wonders of a new medium. Many myths have been told about the first appearances of the Kinetoscope, the Cinématographe, the Animatograph, or the Bioskop, but what is most interesting here is the forming of a metropolitan mass audience searching for the thrills of distraction. In the 1920s the German sociologist and architect Siegfried Kracauer reformulated the concept of distraction with regard to the growing cinema culture.9 In his essay “Kult der Zerstreuung” (Cult of Distraction), first published in 1926 in the Frankfurter Zeitung, he analyzed the rise of giant cinema theatres with a capacity of more than 1,000 spectators as an apparatus of mass distraction. Kracauer believed that in these cinema theatres, as well as in other popular sites of mass entertainment like amusement parks, distraction comes to a climax because there, addicted to a multitude of distracting sensual stimuli, the audience is able to unveil and in this way to overcome the economy of capitalist society. In Kracauer’s dialectical thinking it is absolutely necessary to intensify and increase the potentials of distraction by disorientating the senses. This dizzying disorientation of the senses is, for him, also a source of happiness––a kind of happiness that can of course only last a few moments. In these moments the disorientated human body is liberated from the forces of capitalist economy, and distraction is the name of this liberation.10 Once more it is the human body’s power of altering that shapes itself as a body of distraction. Kracauer’s sociopolitical utopia of distraction was influenced by Hegelian dialectics as well as by the Marxist philosophy of history, which is sometimes criticized as naïve. Nevertheless, it resonates in Max Horkheimer’s and Theodor W. Adorno’s epoch-making Dialektik der Aufklärung (The Dialectic of Enlightenment), where the authors remind us of the fact that a total excess of distraction comes, in its extremes, close to art.11 9

According to Sabine Hake Kracauer was the first who has developed a mediatheoretical notion of distraction; see her article “Girls and Crisis—The Other Side of Diversion” (1987). In his earlier philosophical essay Die Wartenden from 1922 Kracuaer still has considered distraction in a more negative way––as anaesthetizing diversion. 10 This thought is developed in extension in Kracauer’s essay Berg- und Talbahn (see Kracauer 1990). 11 See Horkheimer and Adorno (1996, 150): “Amusement, ganz entfesselt, wäre nicht bloß der Gegensatz zur Kunst, sondern auch das Extrem, das sie berührt.”

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Kracauer’s questioning of distraction was answered in the mid-1930s by Walter Benjamin’s famous essay “Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen Reproduzierbarkeit” (The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility), wherein he analyzed distraction as a specific mode of cinematic perception: “Rezeption in der Zerstreuung” (reception in distraction). Using this term he explains how a mass audience in a movie theatre perceives and reacts to the ever-changing chain of shocking moments of which film consists. Benjamin states that shock is the signature of perception in modernity. That is why film is the right medium for a perception that has to anticipate, perceive, and react to changing sensual stimuli and, insofar as it does this, is always distracted. In an unpublished note on his essay, Benjamin described distraction as a physiological phenomenon akin to catharsis.12 It is film’s ability to physically stimulate human bodies in a crowd that most interests Benjamin. A main question of his essay concerned how a technology can become revolutionary. How, he wondered, could bodily effects on individuals, caused by technical media, produce a mass reception that is open to radical change not primarily in thinking, but first and foremost in practice and in action. Thus Benjamin compared reception in distraction with the tactile perception of architecture as a way bringing things near to the observer. Tactility is the reaction of the collapse of distances in the age of reproducibility; and that is why contemplation, according to Benjamin, which requires a distance from the artwork, can’t be an option for a mass audience which is, as a mass in the cinema theatre, distracted per se. In the first version of his artwork essay he even explicitly labeled contemplation, in contrast to diversion, as an asocial behaviour (see Benjamin 1991, I/2: 463). It is easy to understand why Benjamin, in his explanations of distraction, highlights the role of exercise and habituation. The reception of distraction has to be exercised, has to become a habit, because automated processes don’t require much effort––that is, they don’t need the assistance of a consciousness. From this perspective, to look at a film means to train the senses for the reception of distraction, which is necessary in modern environments which are full of different visual, aural, and tactile stimulations like traffic signals, noises, or passers-by in a crowded street. That insight leads to the question of what body or bodies of distraction we are inhabiting today, now that the information society has taken command. 12 See Benjamin (1991, VII/2:678): “Zerstreuung und Katharsis sind als physiologische Phänomene zu beschreiben.”

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The Age of Distraction The genealogy of distraction has revealed different concepts of distributed attention––that is to say, being aware of several sensual stimuli at the same moment of time. Recently, scholarship has critically investigated negative effects of distributed attention or distraction. The notion of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) has attracted a wide audience, quite aside from its origin in medicine, and regardless of whether this is an appropriate depiction of undisciplined behaviour, especially of schoolchildren. According to Bernard Stiegler, distraction is first and foremost a social problem of the education system and of the changed relations between minors and adults—that is to say, distraction is not a problem of certain individuals, but of the whole society, a problem which, according to Stiegler, is enforced by consumer culture. For him, the crisis of education institutions becomes evident with the fact that they are no longer able to teach attention. In his study Prendre soin: de la jeunesse de des generations, published in 2008, he argues that since the very first grammar schools, learning to read was the main battlefield of what he calls psycho-power. Learning to read meant interiorization of attention and, in this manner, of discipline. According to Stiegler, the psycho-power of deep attention today is replaced by the bio-power of hyper attention. But it is easy to understand that in the information society more skills than reading are required. In mediated environments, combinations of different skills such as listening to public announcements while using the keyboard of a laptop and looking at its screen simultaneously have become more important. This environmental multifunctionality generates new bodies of distraction. Linda Stone, a former Apple and Microsoft executive, has labeled distributed attention “continuous partial attention.” She used this term for the first time in 1998, emphasizing its social meaning, in describing how people use several information technology tools at the same time: Continuous partial attention (cpa) is an always on, anywhere, anytime, any place behavior. It’s neuro-chemically addictive and it involves an artificial sense of constant crisis. We keep a top priority in focus. At the same time, we scan the periphery to see if we are missing other opportunities, and if we are, our very fickle attention shifts focus. What’s ringing? Who is it? What email just came in? 15 text messages. Blog this. What time is it in Beijing? 19 voicemails. (Stone 2007)

Her description highlights the fact that, in modern information society, one has to do several things at the same time––that is to say, to distribute

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attention is obviously part of everyday life, of ordinary activities. At the same time Stone’s telegraphic style suggests that a permanent distributed attention also necessarily generates stress. And it is through this argument that Stone distinguishes between continuous partial attention (cpa) and multi-tasking. Whereas cpa is a constant crisis with a high level of adrenalin output, multi-tasking is temporally limited and focussed on special goals. That is why Stone concludes that continuous partial attention is only useful for a certain period of time. Generally, she believes that the time for cpa should now be over, replaced by what she calls “the Age of Uni-focus”—by which notion she means that more and more people are using mobile media with headsets to exclude external sensual stimuli, first and foremost environmental sounds. Apart from the question of whether Stone’s conclusion is visionary, it is evident that in an information society an enhanced mobility is related to a new regime of distraction. A transformation of everyday life has taken place, facilitated by ubiquitous information technologies and manageable electronic apparatuses. Mobile media are creating a new alliance between information and entertainment, work and leisure, diversion and stress. To be sure, every kind of mental or bodily activity is exhausting and requires relaxation. This is also the case with distraction in permanence. New balances between stress and relaxation have to be found. Not surprisingly, relaxation techniques like autogenetic training or yoga, which intensify self-awareness, are in great demand. Taking care of oneself is no less important nowadays than it was in the age of Tissot.

References Benjamin, Walter. 1991. Gesammelte Schriften. Edited by Rolf Tiedemann and Hermann Schweppenhäuser. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Crary, Jonathan. 1991. Suspensions of Perception: Attention, Spectacle, and Modern Culture. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Crousaz, Jean-Pierre. 1720. La logique ou système de reflections. Amsterdam: L’Honoré & Chatelain. Dzondi, Carl Heinrich. 1816. “Aufmerksamkeit.” In Medizinisches Reallexikon, edited by Johann Friedrich Pierer, vol. 1, Leipzig/Altenburg: F.A. Brockhaus. Foucault, Michel. 1988. “Technologies of the Self.” In Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault, edited by L. H. Martin, H. Gutman and P. Hutton. London: Tavistock. Gunning, Tom. 1995. “An Aesthetic of Astonishment: Early Film and the (In)Credulous Spectator.” In Viewing Positions: Ways of Seeing Film,

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edited by Linda Williams, 114–133. New Brunswick/NJ: Rutgers University Press. Hake, Sabine. 1987. “Girls and Crisis—The Other Side of Diversion.” New German Critique 40 (Winter): 147–164. Helmholtz, Hermann von. 1962. Treatise on Physiological Optics. Edited and translated by James P.C. Southall. New York: Dover Publications. Hirth, Georg. 1895. Die Lokalisationstheorie angewandt auf psychische Probleme, Beispiel: Warum sind wir zerstreut? Edited with an introduction by Ludwig Edinger. Munich: G. Hirths Verlag. Horkheimer, Max and Theodor W. Adorno. 1996. Dialektik der Aufklärung. Philosophische Fragmente. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer. Janet, Pierre. 1889. L’Automatisme psychologique. Essai de psychologie expérimentale sur les formes inférieures de l’activité humaine. Paris: Félix Alcan. Kant, Immanuel. 1968. Anthropologie in pragmatischer Hinsicht. Edited by Wilhelm Weischedel. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. —. 1974. Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Edited by Wilhelm Weischedel. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Kracauer, Siegfried. 1990. “Berg- und Talbahn.” Schriften 5, no. 2 [edited by Inka Mülder-Bach], 117–118. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Louden, Robert B., ed. 2006. Kant: Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View. Translated by Robert B. Louden with an introduction by Manfred Kuehn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mach, Ernst. 1906. Die Analyse der Empfindungen und das Verhältnis des Physischen zum Psychischen. Jena: Verlag von Gustav Fischer. Montaigne, Michel de. 1998. “De la diversion.” In Essais, vol. 3, edited by André Tournon, 525–531. Paris: Imprimerie National. North, Paul. 2012. The Problem of Distraction. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Oettermann, Stephan. 1980. Das Panorama. Die Geschichte eines Massenmediums. Frankfurt am Main: Syndikat. Rabinbach, Anson. 1990. The Human Motor: Energy, Fatigue, and the Origins of Modernity. New York: Basic Books. Ribot, Théodule. 1889. Psychologie de l’attention. Paris: Félix Alcan. Singer, Ben. 1995. “Modernity, Hyperstimulus, and the Rise of Popular Sensationalism.” In Cinema and the Invention of Modern Life, edited by Leo Charney and Vanessa R. Schwartz, 72–99. Berkeley/Los Angeles/London: University of California Press. Stone, Linda. 2007. “Thoughts on Continuous Partial Attention.” Lecture given at the DLD conference, Munich, January 21–23. http://www.neuegegenwart.de/ausgabe51/continuouspartialattention.htm.

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Tissot, Samuel Auguste André David. [1768] 1976. Von der Gesundheit der Gelehrten und derer, die in kränklichen Umständen sind. Zürich/München: Artemis-Verlag.

CHAPTER TWO TIME CAPITAL AND SOCIAL GRAVITY: TWO NEW CONCEPTS FOR SOCIOLOGY OF TIME MARIAN PREDA

We see to our daily life, barely understanding anything about the world. —Stephen Hawking (1988/1995, 9)

Abstract Although time is an essential topic for several sciences, it does not seem to be central in contemporary sociology. The primary research topics for sociology remain classical, mainstream ones, strongly related to social problems on the public agenda. Thirteen years ago, John Urry wrote that “a reconfigured sociology has to place time at its very centre.” Bergson, Adam, Hall, and other authors have described various time categories, while Prigogine and Stengers have stated that understanding the relationship between the diverse temporal frames that the various sciences employ is one of the greatest challenges for future research. In this paper I propose two new concepts, time capital and social gravity, that will increase the significance of time in social theory while also creating bridges between theory in sociology and in physics. I define the concept of time capital through an analogy with the concept of human capital and in relation to social capital; I also explore the analogy between social life and the movement of lifeless bodies through the dependency between social mass and individual time capital—in other words, the way some individuals (for example, VIPs, managers, leaders) and certain institutions or organizations can exert influence over the individual time of others. Keywords: Time Capital; Social Gravity; Time

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Time: A major topic in the scientific arena Time represents an essential topic for several sciences. The need for a multi-disciplinary approach is determined by the complexity of the time phenomenon and by its specific reflections across different research fields. In one of his older studies, Solomon Marcus (1985) conceived an inventory of the approaches to time in various scientific fields. For the mathematician, time is a parameter represented on the real numbers line. For the physicist, it has become a property of matter. For the biologist, it evokes numerous periodical processes that take place inside living organisms. For the psychologist, the interest lies primordially with subjective time, involved in perceiving and experiencing events. The linguist examines the way in which diverse temporal categories are converted in grammar structures, across various languages. The IT specialist is interested in the time input to calculating the algorithms he/she elaborates. The economist measures the time incorporated in various merchandise, the manner in which … time is converted into an object, a commodity that can be traded. The sociologist draws upon the time budget of various social categories. There is also a time of the great social groups, of nations, of the grand myths and of history. (Marcus 1985, 9)

The time by which historical linguistics calculates the moments when dialects became detached from the main languages is isomorphic to geological time, which estimates the age of objects based on the properties of radioactive carbon. Psychological time, designated as the perceived duration across different contexts or as the updating and adaptation of past events, based on memory, in the shape of perceptions generating actions (Bergson 1896/1996), becomes somewhat isomorphic to relativistic time. The entropy that is typical for physical time applies similarly to socialeconomic time (Prigogine and Stengers 1985). Prigogine and Stengers have endeavoured to integrate the biological and the psychological approaches to time; they state that “at all levels, science rediscovers time” (Prigogine and Stengers 1998, 5). Understanding the relationship between the diverse temporal frames that various sciences employ is one of the greatest challenges for future research. Stephen Hawking, the famous physicist, argues that space and time are dynamic and “when an object moves or a force acts, this affects the curving of space and time—in exchange, the space-time structure affects the manner in which the objects move and the forces act” (Hawking 1988/1995, 9).

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The issue of time in sociology Contemporary sociological research shows a limited interest in the topic of time. The analysis of the key concepts lists (brief subject index) in the impressive volume of abstracts published at the 2010 World Congress in Sociology, reveals the following statistics that reflect the research preoccupations of today’s sociologists: the most frequent topics are classical, mainstream themes, strongly related to the social problems present on the public agenda. The most frequently employed terms are variations of the concepts of social, economic, and cultural, as follows: social: 1259 occurrences (of which social change: 114 occurrences; social movements: 98 occurrences, etc.); economic: 288 occurrences; and cultural: 267 occurrences. Next are concepts concerning, for the most part, social problems and classical sociological themes, or “fashionable” topics such as globalization or the internet: female: 205 occurrences; citizens and citizenship: 186 occurrences; migration and/or migrants: 184 occurrences etc. There is also the category of the “accessible” topics, namely, experiences that are personally relevant to many members of the sociology community: students: 91 occurrences; teachers: 75 occurrences; universities: 50 occurrences. By comparison, topics that do not consider social problems, or that are not accessible, or are not (yet) popular in sociological research, are substantially less represented: emotions: 15 occurrences; body: 8 occurrences; time: 6 occurrences; space: 4 occurrences; space and time: 4 occurrences; time use: 2 occurrences. The concept of time is predominantly employed as a secondary term, mainly in reference to its historical connotation.

Time in sociology and its connected sciences One widely reputed sociologist, John Urry, wrote thirteen years ago that “a reconfigured sociology has to place time at its very centre” (Urry 2000, 105) However, in his Sociology Beyond Societies: Mobilities for the Twenty-first Century (2000), the concept of time gets one single chapter, and is not central to the book’s concerns. Yet it is integrated into the sections concerning mobility and the space-time dimension. At the beginning of the fifth chapter, entitled “Times,” Urry places the following quote from Karl Marx: “… man is nothing; he is, at the most, the carcass of time” (Urry 2000, 105). Similarly, classic figures such as Marx, Durkheim, and Weber, did write about time, and Urry is inspired to write about it in his paper as well as in other publications. In these publications

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he poses fundamental questions, presents significant theories and concepts; and then abandons the whole concept of time. Barbara Adam is one of the few sociologists to write scientific works exclusively on the topic of time, discussing fundamental concepts such as those referring to the types of futures. She founded the sole publication, a sociology periodical, which is dedicated to the topic, namely Time & Society, of which she served as editor for many years. She left this magazine a few years ago; it is not by chance that most articles published in this magazine in recent years have been on “minor” sub-themes related to time (i.e., time budget, work time, free time, time spent with the family, time as source of gendered divisions, etc.) A series of fundamental topics that have been approached by sociologists, anthropologists, psychologists, and philosophers, and which can be included in a thesis on the sociology of time are set out in what follows.

Time representations in diverse types of society What follows are some remarks on the social history of time and the geography of time. In his work The Apocalypse, Hall (2010) provides an excellent perspective on the social history of time. He conceptualizes time with extended references to classics by authors such as Durkheim, Weber, and Eliade. Hence, in one frame of reference, time is presented in archaic settings, prior to the emergence of the idea of objective time, nearly five millennia ago in the Near East. It was the time of objective time measurement, so to speak, which was practiced by the elites, but utterly ignored by the common people. The masses were reluctant to acknowledge the “tyranny of history,” to use a phrase coined by Eliade in reference to a succession of events that is no longer “subjected to the organization defined by eternal archetypes” (Hall 2010, 30). These dimensions highlight the periods marked by the foundation of the great religions, of dual confrontations between good and evil, of the primordial apocalyptic spirit perceived “as hope for final redemption” for the believers and as punishment for the others” (Hall 2010, 49). In another frame of reference, “the new temporization of history” (Hall 2010, 49) is determined by the recourse to Jesus as charismatic personality and by the transformation of the Church “from a community of the redeemed, into an institution of the redemption” (Bultmann 1957, as cited in Hill 2010, 49). It is, furthermore, useful to understand the passing of the apocalyptic spirit through the period of the Crusades and heresies and

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through modernity as “a temporal hybrid” defined by “multiple temporality” (Hill 2010). In his book Liquid Modernity, Zigmunt Bauman argues that the history of time begins with modernity as “the time when time acquires a history” (Bauman 2000, 110). The author recalls that during the ancient Olympic Games, the Greeks did not even have the notion of measuring the athletes’ record performances. Consequently, the very idea of recording their differences marks the passage of pre-historical time into historical time. Bauman also remarks that Benjamin Franklin, who considered man as “an animal that builds tools,” launched the expression “Time is money.” Ever since, the economic conversion of time has become a coordinate of the industrial period, as emphasized in the classical version of “scientific” management, later in the shape of “conveyor-belt” mechanized work. The emphasis on acceleration represents the star under which modernity was born, as per Bauman. The critical reflection on time from the perspective of social history is furthermore important for questions such as: “How is it that humankind has adopted the seven-day week convention ever since the Babylonian age and has not abandoned it to this day, despite serious challenges (such as the Napoleonic France or communist Russia) and despite the fact that this week format has no astronomical determination such as the day, the month or the season or the year?” (Bauman 2000).

Types of time and their equivalent metaphors A typology of time with its ensuing conceptual distinctions and definitions is highly important for a time-centric sociological paradigm. Hall (2010), Bergson (1896/1996), Adam (1990, 1995, 1998) and other authors describe various time categories, such as the here-and-now present and the chronological clocktime, or they distinguish between time as a chronological, objective, and physically measured entity and duration, and a subjective, perceived, or psychological time. John Hall (2010) refers to six types of social temporality: 1. The immediate present or the equivalent of the here-and-now; 2. The collective synchronic time, specific to the traditional community, a time that reunites traditions and memories and configures the here-and-now present as “re-interpretation or commemoration of the past” (Hall 2010, 25); 3. The diachronic time, which employs the objectively measured time to ensure the formal organization and functioning of society;

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4. The strategic time, a time of planning in order to influence “contingent” outcomes and achievement of (future) targets (Hall 2010, 26); 5. The post-apocalyptic temporality, utopian in nature, viewed either as an “infinite eternity” or as a paradisiacal age; and 6. The transcendence, as the circumstance wherein “an absolute present time is experienced as an infinite time” (Hall 2010, 26). Hall contributes a consistency of approach to the concept of time through his excellent analysis of the significance of the apocalypse, regarded as perpetual promise and threat, and as institutionalized means of domination and control. From the classical hermeneutical analyses he moves to other forms of apocalyptic-like confrontation, such as “the ultimate apocalypse” which is the clash between the “Modernity Empire” represented by the Bush family and the “Realm of War” illustrated by the Islamic terrorism and Al-Qaida in particular. His book is a comprehensive study of the concept of apocalypse and of the conflict between the sacred and the profane. The confrontation functions as a time referential, an instrument serving a time that constantly promises and menaces, as an end of time that never arrives. Urry (2000, 123) distinguishes between instantaneous time and simultaneous time and presents time metaphors. According to him, traditional societies view time in the metaphorical shape of animals or agricultural works. Conversely, modern societies use the clock as the quintessential metaphor, whilst post-modern actors use the hologram, a metaphor specific to simultaneous time, a complex entity that encompasses each component of this society. The hologram is similar to another complex system endowed with instant self-reproduction, the World Wide Web. The web is the same everywhere in space, it is accessible to everyone and it emerges from every user’s intervention. It simultaneously self-generates and therefore implies the lack of causality that is intrinsically linked to the succession rendered by linear, chronological clocktime.

The relationship between the present, past, and future This relationship is important from a methodological perspective, since it establishes connections between the following: description (associated with the present), explanation (connected to the past, to the causes prior to the present), and prediction (correlated with the future). Determining the present based on the past undoubtedly implies a causal relationship. Hawking (1988/1995) comments that if the present

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were reversible, the causality relationship would disappear, hence the conclusion that a potential time journey would mean a voyage into the future and not into the past. Bergson graphically illustrates the relationship between past and present as a cone wherein the present stands at the top and the past includes a series of superimposed circles that circumscribe multiple events (Bergson 1896/1996, 133, 142) The cone suggests the “collection” of the past into the present, since “the past is significant only from within the present,” according to Hoy’s interpretation of Bergson (2009, 129). Consequently, the past is simultaneous with the perceived present which it determines, by way of its consequences, via memory and perception. Additionally, the necessary time span for the perception and transmission of information, no matter how tiny, even in terms of fractions of a second, brings into question the simultaneity between the present and the entities that we perceive. This phenomenological approach, wherein the present and the past are intertwined, differs, according to Hoy, from yet another phenomenological perspective, the one developed by Husserl. For him, the time awareness is diachronic, seemingly a connection between two successive moments in time, when one is contained within the other (Hoy 2009, 129). In a similar graphical representation, Hall (2010) illustrates time in the shape of superimposed cones, with the first vertex indicating transcendence and the second indicating the immediate present. When analyzing the relationship between the past and the present, there are the essential sub-topics of memory, first as a past information repository and, second, of perception as the vehicle for configuring the present (tenses). Simultaneity, according to Lupasco’s theory (Marcus 1985), defines a contradiction-based conjunction, whilst succession designates a contradiction-based disjunction (excluding simultaneity in the form of several simultaneous options/events). “Hence the conclusion that time constitutes a series of choices, whilst succession is dialectical,” as Marcus (1985, 165) comments by way of a synthesis of Lupasco’s theoretical ideas. Time may also be non-sequential, if its continuity is perceived as interrupted in certain circumstances. The more elements we organize within the same chronological time frame, the longer the perceived interval (Marcus 1985, 339). Consequently, a day with many successively structured events seems longer than a day with fewer such events. The result is that some types of experiences (drug consumption, love, sleep) stand out from the pattern of linear time, since past or future events “no

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longer exist” or are not ordered and structured. This is also the case for memory function loss in persons with lesions to the left brain hemisphere (Marcus 1985, 340). Psychologists argue, in addition, that “successes” are better or more effectively structured, leading to a condensed time interval being allocated to them. Meanwhile, failures are less structured, so that they occupy less space and time within the memory span. As a result, positive events seem to last less time than negative ones for us, in our subjective experience (Marcus 1985).

The extent to which the present determines the future is essential In their work Future Matters: Action, Knowledge, Ethics, Barbara Adam and Chris Groves (2007) discuss humankind’s evolution from a preexisting, contextual, social and spiritual future, to a future conceived as an empty space, ready to be transformed and oblivious to the fact that it too will constitute the present for other generations. The future told represents a narrated, announced future, as a time of prophecy, oracles and “-mancies” (the suffix used for naming foretelling “crafts” such as hepatomancy, aeromancy, chiromancy, geomancy, etc.). This also concerns the future as told by a divinity. This pre-existent future was followed by a controlled, tamed future. The future tamed emerges from practices and knowledge aimed at reducing uncertainty, as an intrinsic trait of freedom and progress promoted by modernity. The controlled, tamed future of societies translates into religious rituals and practices, norms, traditions, and social rules that safeguard continuity and permanence and thus minimize uncertainty and ambiguity. The futures traded represents a future that is commodified, calculated, sold and bought. Exploited and detached from its context, it becomes devoid of content. The authors’ key idea is that the future, devoid of meaning, is subject to being passed through and also to vanishing, with the persistent illusion that we are not responsible for it, that it does not originate in the present, and that therefore we do not have to choose between multiple options to shape this future. It is precisely these assumptions, coupled with the indifference towards today’s institutions and conservative reluctance, that make us determine a future we do not care about. This thesis attempts to persuade us that the future does count and that we have options concerning its improved configuration (Adam and Groves 2007).

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The main research direction in the sociology of time concerns time budget surveys. Similar to time management research, studies in the sociology of time have focused on time budgets, and have analysed the quantity of time assigned to various activities, as well as the issue of synchronising individual times to get involved in common activities, time– life balance and gendered parenthood (Craig and Mullan 2010), familyfriendly work environments and job quality (Drobnic and Guillén 2011). Other topics of interest involve the correlation of time use, especially the ratio between engaged, compulsory, and free time, with personal wellbeing indicators, as Gershuny (2011) explains. The prestigious Time Use Research Centre at Oxford University issues periodical reports on cross-national time budget statistics, using standardized formats such as the MTUS (Multinational Time Use Survey) or the EHTUS (European Harmonized Time Use Survey), in convergence to the Eurostat database. Methodological debate concerns the portfolio of available research alternatives, ranging from stylized estimates to the time diary (Otterbach and Sousa-Poza 2010). These traditional methods are highly vulnerable to the bias of over-reporting desirable behaviours, such as studying, religious attendance, or spending quality time with the family (as per Brenner 2009). More recently, supposedly more accurate datagathering procedures have emerged, such as participative observation or random monitoring through electronic means. Kahneman et al. (2004) analyze the Day Reconstruction Method as a valid instrument for collecting information not only about chronological events, but also about their emotional dimension, as felt experiences to which the individual resonates, and are thereby rendered memorable. Bias reduction and participation rate enhancement are central methodological issues open to debate, as Van Ingen et al. (2009) claim. Time personality, defined by the propensity to manifest a polychronic (performing multiple activities simultaneously) or monochronic tendency (doing one activity at a time) is explored using micro-scale and crosscultural comparative approaches to everyday practices and rituals such as eating (Cheng et al. 2007). Geert Hofstede (1980) has studied time horizon as a strategic planning dimension included as one of the five traits of national and organizational culture across different countries, with considerable and significant differences among countries and regions. Minzberg (1973) has investigated managers’ work variety, the fragmentation of work, and their work time, as organized in series of very brief temporal episodes. Another recent research direction which reunites the approaches of scientific preoccupations and popular culture is the “slow living” theorized by Carl Honore (2004/2008). Ricardo Semler

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(2003) questions habits in direct connection with the time-budget: “Why are we able to answer emails on Sundays, but unable to go to the movies on Monday afternoons?” (Semler 2003, 1). Semler’s book is based on his experience of the conversion of his company, which he took over from his father and changed into an organization with a completely different time and work relations management regime. Semler proposes a schedule through which meetings take place in laid-back public spaces, not in formal offices, and individual work can be accomplished from home or a mountain chalet etc. It is a system that has been successfully adopted in Brazil, but is challenging to transplant to social systems defined by a deeply ingrained culture of temporal synchronization.

Time capital and social gravity, two new concepts for sociology of time Starting from a synthesis of the theoretical elements previously presented, I formulate the following inferences: x Time is a significant theme for social theory, for philosophers, psychologists, economists and anthropologists, but also for classical and contemporary sociologists. It plays an important part in the theory of sociology, hence it is a sociological “problem” as well. x Time is a central aspect to many social problems and this generates a practical interest in studying it: lack of time, time management, time planning, temporal diagrams, work time, free time, etc. x Time is an important (common) element that connects objects and beings, nature and people. Most probably, it is a source of integration between the argumentation specific to social science and the humanities, on the one hand, and that specific to natural sciences and exact sciences, on the other. This creates foundations for doing research on border subjects and for attempting to integrate theory and argumentation in various domains. I propose two new concepts, individual time capital and social gravity that will serve to raise the significance of time in social theory and, in addition, will create bridges between theory in sociology and in physics. The structure of my theoretical research includes two main themes: x Establishing the foundation of the concept of individual time capital through an analogy with the concept of social capital

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(Bourdieu 1986; Portes 1998; Putnam 2000) and with the concept of human capital (Becker 1964) ; x The analogy between social life and the movement of lifeless bodies. The relationship between social mass and individual time capital—in other words, how some individuals (for example, VIPs, managers, leaders) along with certain institutions or organizations, can influence the individual time of others. The main research questions are: 1. How is social influence sustained by time capital and what are the transfers in which it is involved? (Social influence can be equated to authority, which is the capacity of some people to orient the actions of others.) 2. How can analogies between sociological concepts and concepts from physics be formulated in order to clarify these links between social influence/authority and time capital?

Individual time capital As mentioned, I define the concept of individual time capital by analogy with the concepts of social capital (Bourdieu 1972, 1986; Portes 1998; Putnam 2000) and of human capital (Becker 1964). These types of capital include: x x x x

Economic capital (money, assets) Cultural capital (forms of knowledge, skills, education, behaviour) Social capital (social networks, group membership, relationships) Symbolic capital (resources available on the basis of honour, prestige, or social recognition) x Human capital (Becker 1964)—that is, the stock of competencies, social and personality skills, including creativity, embodied in the ability to produce economic value.

Investments in human capital (i.e., in education, training, medical treatment) provide additional output for individuals or organizations, so HC is similar to a means of production. HC is substitutable, but it is not transferable like fixed capital. TIME CAPITAL (TC) is an (or the) existing asset of any individual that is the only clear convertible capital a person is born with; TC breaks down into:

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x a quantitative component, chronological time capital (CTC), similar to life expectancy (LE), but a “personal” life expectancy and not an average one as in demography; CTC is “time to come for the subject”); it is inherited and “consumed.” x a qualitative component, psycho-sociological time capital (P-STC), which is the quality of time “spent” that could increase or decrease CTC. CTC and P-STC are convertible: if we spend time in good quality (pleasant) activities (with family and friends, for sport, entertainment, etc), our lives will be enhanced; but if we waste time, spent it on unpleasant activities, we will reduce our CTC.

Variation of individual chronological time capital The variation of one’s Individual Chronological Time Capital, between two specific moments, tx and ty (for the period tx-ty, which could be a week, a day, or the time for one short activity etc.) is CTCx – (ty-tx) + ™(Uzi) Where CTCx = Chronological Time Capital at moment x, tx-ty = time interval or chronological time difference between the two moments, ™(Uzi) = Sum of Utilities of time spent/exchanged or (P-STC), the quality of time “spent” during the specific period z performing activity i. It could take a positive or a negative value, according to specificity of each activity performed during the interval and with its influence over the individual mood and health.

Utility of time spent The Uzi formula will have to include two elements: a constant of Time quality (Ctq); and a constant of biological impact (Cbi) of the activity (produced by the environment, type of activity, and other elements that have an impact on the physiological health of the individual). For instance, smoking is a pleasant activity, with a positive psychological impact, but it also has a negative health-related consequence.

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The utility of time spent during the specific period z performing activity i is Uzi = Zi * Ctq * Cbi The big challenge in measuring CTC will be to estimate the two constant values for various activities and contexts. Time capital is convertible into and from other types of capital. (i) We “sell” biological time as working time instead of money (EC); we convert money (economic capital) into an increasing quality of time spent (leisure activities) that will increase our BTC. (ii) We “invest” time in social networks, in activities with and for others (in social capital, SC), and those networks will provide us with support (EC) and good quality time (PTC). Unlike HC, TC is partially transferable: (i) We could transplant organs and increase the LE of one person. (ii) Parents could transfer EC, CC, or their personal time (BTC) to their children and that will increase the BTC of the children. (iii) The state could also “invest” in children in order to increase their BTC and PTC. TC is finite for any individual. BTC can be increased only within some limits. The finitude condition of TC for any individual is fundamental for human societies and for science. Immortality is a key topic of mankind’s various cultures. ITC is transmissible through (pro)creation. This is a result of two individual times (of a couple), not of an individual time. Other forms of creativity (ideas, goods, etc.) could also survive their creators. Despite the fact that biological immortality is not possible, some components of the Individual Time Capital (ITC) of one individual will survive: it will not disappear at the moment of death. Pyramids, mummies, funeral monuments, gravestones, crosses, are examples of the human preoccupation with immortality. A response to this interest in immortality (and a substitute for it) is the production of human clones. My future research objectives related to Individual Time Capital are as follows: 1. To look at individual strategies of approaching present and future time. Immortality-oriented views versus fatalist perspectives which maintain that life does not continue in other forms, forms part of this larger theme. The research question specific to this research direction is: What type of relation (conceptual, empirical) exists between individual time capital and immortality-oriented vs. fatalist life strategies?1 1

In this respect I have recently carried out the first field research related to links between Individual Time Capital and attitudes towards immortality on two sites:

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2. To define/describe “social gravity.” This requires exploring whether interactions between individuals are similar to those between lifeless bodies. Social gravity implies an analogy between social life and the movement of lifeless bodies. It entails all relationships between the social mass of an individual and his/her Individual Time Capital. It emphasizes the way some individuals (for example, VIPs, managers, leaders) and some institutions or organizations can influence the individual time of the others (concepts such as that of authority will be explored here). The analogy between social life and the movement of lifeless bodies. (The transfer of concepts from physics to sociology starts with Spiru Haret’s 1910/2001 study Social Mechanics). The only significant approach in this direction in recent times I know of is that of Prigogine and Stengers, who have endeavoured to integrate the biological and the psychological approaches to time; as already mentioned above, it is their view that “at all levels, science rediscovers time” (Prigogine and Stengers 1998, 5). The relationship between the temporal frames that various sciences employ represents one of the greatest challenges for future research. The main research questions related to social gravity are: 1. How do people control/influence the time (ITC) of other individuals? How is social influence sustained by time capital and what are the transfers in which it is involved? (Social influence can be equated to authority, which is the capacity of some people to orient the actions of other people.) 2. How can analogies between sociological concepts and concepts from physics be formulated in order to clarify these links between social influence/authority and time capital? Implicit in question 1 is another question: Do the relationships among individuals follow the principles of social gravity, as derived from examining the interactions among individuals, as well as those between individuals and groups and among groups of individuals? This generates a series of subquestions. 1.1. Are the relations between individuals and/or groups exchange relationships or relationships involving the transfer of individual temporal energy? Bucharest and Sapanta (a traditional village with the so-called Merry (Happy) Cemetery), in Romania. Four cemeteries and the communities around them have been researched and the data are still to be interpreted.

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1.2. Is the mass in social gravity represented by the individual time capital that is perceived by individuals, groups, and organizations that interact? In this case the social gravity formula will be Fs = ITC * Csg where Fs = the social atraction Force, ITC = Individual Time Capital, and Csg = the social gravity constant. 1.2.1. Is the social mass the sum of deontic and epistemic individual authorities, as they are defined by Bochenski (1974/1992)? Is this an adequate approximation of individual time capital? 1.2.2. The individual social mass is specific to each individual because it is discretely and differently perceived. Question 2 also raises a set of further issues. The question is based on the presupposition that the analogy between sociological concepts and concepts from physics can clarify and support the understanding of social life. The analogy is useful especially in cases in which knowledge is closely connected to action, such as models of decision making and managerial strategies, which are often analogous and visual. Of course, the overlapping domain between the concepts of physics and those specific to social sciences is only partial, because of the fact that social action (a fundamental sociological concept) is not deterministic and the social order is unstable. As a consequence, Newton’s law of universal gravitation, F = mg (where m is the mass of the attracting body and g is a constant vector (9.81 m/s2) must be adapted to social gravity not just using a specific “human body’s mass” for each individual (as ITC) but by considering a significant number of gravity vectors acting upon each individual due to the proximity of many significant others. As well as this, while in physics and astronomy, stars, planets, satellites, or galaxies follows relatively constant/predictable trajectories, human beings are mobile and follow unpredictable trajectories. In this respect, similarities between interactions and trajectories within human organizations/communities and the Brownian movement of gas molecules could be investigated. Meanwhile, the concept of entropy mentioned by Prigogine and Stengers probably has a correlate in sociology in the form social entropy. Overall, the aim of making an analogy between physics and sociology will be cautiously and heuristically approached. Its utility is considered to be similar to that of using metaphorical elements in the act of argumentation,

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with the purpose of increasing the capacity of understanding of some of the complex but simplified features of any described reality, and with no pretence that there will be a detailed correspondence between the two domains.

References Adam, B. 1990. Time and Social Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press —. 1995. Timewatch: The Social Analysis of Time. Cambridge: Polity Press. —. 1998. Timescapes of Modernity: The Environment and Invisible Hazards. London and New York: Routledge. Adam, B., and C. Groves. 2007. Future Matters: Action, Knowledge, Ethics. Brill: Leiden. Bauman, Z. 2000. Liquid Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Beck, U. 1992. Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity. London: Sage. Bergson, H. 1996. Materie si Memorie [Matter and memory]. Iasi: Polirom. Birsan, G. 1973. Timpul in Stiinta si Filosofie. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Stiintifica. Bochenski, J. M. 1974[1992]. Was ist Autorität? [What is authority?] Bucharest: Editura Humanitas. Bourdieu P. 1972. Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. —. 1986. “The Forms of Capital.” In Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education, edited by J. Richardson, 241–258. New York: Greenwood. Brenner, P. S. 2009. Over-reporting of Socially Desirable Behavior in a Cross-National Perspective: Religious Service Attendance as a Sample Case. Madison: Department of Sociology, University of Wisconsin. Bruce, S. 1999/2003. Sociologia: foarte scurta introducere [Sociology: A very brief introduction]. Bucharest: Editura Allfa. Cheng, S. L., W. Olsen, D. Southerton, and A. Warde. 2007. “The Changing Practice of Eating: Evidence from UK Time Diaries, 1975 and 2000.” British Journal of Sociology 58, no. 1: 39–61. Coleman, J. 1988. “Social Capital in the Creation of Human Capital.” American Journal of Sociology 94 [Supplement]: S95–S120. Craig, L., and K. Mullan. 2010. “Parenthood, Gender and Work-Family Time in the United States, Australia, Italy, France, and Denmark.” Journal of Marriage and Family 72, no. 5: 1344–1361.

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Dogan, M., and R. Pahre. 1993. Noile stiinte sociale: Interpretarea disciplinelor. Bucuresti: Editura Academiei Romane. Drobnic, S., and A. M. Guillén, eds. 2011. Work-Life Balance in Europe: The Role of Job Quality. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Gavriluta, N. 2003. Fractalii si Timpul Social. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Dacia. Gershuny, J. 2011. Time-Use Surveys and the Measurement of National Well-Being. Swansea: Office for National Statistics. Available online at http://www.timeuse.org/node/4486. —. 2000. Changing Times: Work and Leisure in Postindustrial Society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Giddens, A. 1990. The Consequences of Modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hall, R. J. 2010. Apocalipsa: Din Antichitate pana in Imperiul Modernitatii [Apocalypse: From antiquity to the empire of modernity]. Cluj-Napoca: CA Publishing. Haret, S. 1910/2001. Mécanique Sociale [Social mechanics]. Bucharest: Editura 100+1GRAMAR. Hassan, R. 2003. “Network Time and the New Knowledge Epoch.” Time & Society 12, nos. 2/3: 225–241. Hassan, R., and H. Rosa. 2010. “Editorial.” Time & Society 19 [London]: 163. Hawking, S. 1988/1995. Scurta Istorie a Timpului [A brief history of time]. Bucharest: Editura Humanitas. Hofstede, G. 1980. Culture’s Consequences: International Differences in Work-Related Values. Beverley Hills: Sage. Honore, C. 2004/2008. Elogiu Lentorii [In praise of slowness]. Place: Editura Publika. Hoy, D. C. 2009. The Time of Our Lives: A Critical History of Temporality. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Kahneman, D., A. B. Krueger, D. A. Schkade, N. Schwarz, and A. A. Stone. 2004. “A Survey Method for Characterizing Daily Life Experience: The Day Reconstruction Method.” Science 306: 1776–80. Levine, G. 1997[2006]. A Geography of Time. Oxford: Oneworld. Marcus, S. 1985. Timpul. Bucharest: Editura Albatros. Matthews, R. 1999/2009. Doing Time: An Introduction to the Sociology of Imprisonment. Place: Palgrave Macmillan. Minzberg, H. H. 1973. The Nature of Managerial Work. New York: Harper&Row.

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Otterbach, S., and A. Sousa-Poza. 2010. “How Accurate are German Work-time Data? A Comparison of Time-Diary Reports and Stylized Estimates.” Social Indicators Research 97, no. 3: 325–339. Portes, A. 1998. “Social Capital: Its Origins and Applications in Modern Sociology.” Annual Review of Sociology 24: 1–24. Prigogine, I., and I. Stengers. 1988/1997. Intre Eternitate si Timp [Between time and eternity]. Bucharest: Editura Humanitas. Putnam, R. 2000. Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Place: Simon and Schuster. Robinson, J. P., and G. Godbey. 1997. Time for Life: The Surprising Ways Americans use Their Time. Place: Pennsylvania State University Press. Semler, R. 2003. The Seven-Day Weekend: A Better Way to Work in the 21st Century. Place: Arrow Books. Urry, J. 1996/2000. “Sociology of Time and Space.” In The Blackwell Companion to Social Theory, ed. S. B. Turner, Ch. 15. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. —. 2000. Sociology beyond Societies: Mobilities for the Twenty-first Century. London: Routledge. Van Ingen, E., I. , and K. Breedveld. 2009. “Nonresponse in the Dutch Time Use Survey: Strategies for Response Enhancement and Bias Reduction.” Field Methods 21, no. 1: 69–90.

CHAPTER THREE SENSORY INSCRIBED BODY VS RHYTHMIC BODY: TOWARDS AN EMBODIED SOCIOLOGY BIANCA MARIA PIRANI The notion of the “sensory inscribed body,” emerging from current digital media research, presents the body as a relatively “free form,” drawing on all sorts of narratives generated from electronic scans in order to participate fully in a “networked society.” As mobile connectivity and disconnection begins to occur in new ways across a wide range of cyberdevices and integrated places, we need better theorisation and research, above all to examine the interdependencies between changes in physical movement and in electronic communications, especially in their increasing focus on the social sensorium. By introducing the notion of the rhythmic body, this chapter tries to grasp how the relationships between mobilities and immobilities are bound up in material processes, constituting the current “movement-space.” The rhythmic body is, in fact, the source of activity for consciousness. In order to show how nature and culture interact through the body and how the brain and mind produce each other, we here introduce the hypothesis that embodiment should be the starting point towards the transition from novelty to familiarity, the fundamental cycle of human cognition. Keywords: Sensory Inscribed Body; Rhythmic Body; Embodiment; State of Flow.

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Humans Inhabit Time in the Body A human being inhabits time in the body, and “in the vortex of its own adventures”, it constructs a “keen contingency” (Mazzarella 2004, 160). The body is an intersection between time, corporeality, and context. The species develops the adaptive experience of the individual through a combination of chronobiological maps, which direct the development and design functionality based on the fabric of relationships forming the specificity of a given context. In fact, the formation process springs from the synergy of several dynamic interactions in which genetic reality and epigenetic development intertwine through the constant correlation of the biological dimension with relational and socio-cultural matrices. An extremely close interdependence exists between time and body, rooted in cell life and in the living activity of large organic molecules. As long as we are and remain psychosomatic beings, it is temporal friction that possesses us, constantly accompanying thoughts, activity , everyday life and death. It is a more material experience that restores to the body its history , its density, its temporal resonance. The ultimate originality of this experience lies in there being an intersection between the development of the individual and social experience, or, in other words, between an individual reference and the collective norm. In regard to the temporal orientation of corporeality Damasio (2005, 387) is right when he states: The entire construction of knowledge, from simple to complex forms, from non-verbal knowledge through imagery to literal verbal knowledge, depends on the capacity to create maps of what takes place over the course of time within our body, around our body, to our body and with our body – one after another, causing something new ad infinitum .

The human body has an intrinsic and constitutive space/time structure. If it can inhabit and comprehend space/time – and not simply just exist – it is because it actually constitutes this same space/time; it is ongoing and self-aware . In his fascinating book Radiant Cool: The Strange Case of the Human Mind, Dan Lloyd (2006, 273) makes this observation about the relation between the body and time: Temporality is the skeleton that sustains objects and objective reality. Once we understand temporality, the way to incorporate consciousness overall opens before us.

According to this hypotheses, the body is the result of a metabolic process that assimilates other materials, absorbing oxygen, grass, the flesh of other animals, transforming them into itself. The need for food and

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other resources necessary for metabolism forces animals towards movement, which may be more or less far reaching, even encompassing continental distances. Animated life is thus constituted through radical motility. The species Homo sapiens fully shares this characteristic in all climates, in the most diverse and hostile habitats. Movement through space is inseparable from movement through time. Movement from one point in space to another is not simply the occupation of different places, neither is it limited to topology, but it is always a type of chronobiology as well. Viewing the body in time brings about a radical change in our approach to the social sciences. Temporal coherence is believed, indeed, to be the neurological mechanism that underlies perceptual unity, the binding together or conjunction of independently derived sensory components, called “cognitive binding” (Llinás 2002, 121). How the rhythmic body came to us (or we to it) is a rich and beautiful story that is over 700 million years old—and, like all things biological, it is still being written.

The Sensory Inscribed Body The notion of the “sensory inscribed body,” emerging from current digital media research, presents the body as a relatively “free form” availing itself of a range of narratives generated from electronic scans in order to participate fully in a “networked society.” The interpretation of digital scans by the press and non-scientists is, indeed, a relatively “free form,” with all sorts of narratives generated from the new media. As Manovich (1999, 80) argues: After the novel, and subsequently cinema privileged narrative as the key form of cultural expression in the modern age, the computer age introduced its correlate—database. Many new media objects do not tell stories, they don’t have a beginning or an end: in fact, they don’t have any development, thematically, formally or otherwise, which would organize their elements into a sequence: instead, they are collections of individual items, where every item has the same significance as any other.

Bodily ability aims at achieving a good Gestalt in any domain of skills. In the conclusion to his Mobile Interface Theory, Farman (2011, 133) quotes, for example, computer scientist Alan Kay’s suggestion that “technology is anything that was invented after you were born.” Media and communication scholars (most of whom we can safely assume were born before the beginning of the digital revolution) have spent much of the last two decades confirming Kay’s hypothesis, sparking important (if not indeed unprecedented) debate about how new media are changing the way

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we see our environment, our peers, and ourselves. Taking our growing attachment to mobile GPS-enabled devices as its primary focus, Farman argues that mobile communication devices change the way we conceptualise and experience space. His main suppositions can be summarised in three points. First, drawing from Maurice Merleau-Ponty, he proposes that embodiment and space are co-constitutive. One can never “inhabit” space because it implies entering a pre-existing field that our bodies simply fill. Rather, space is always “constructed simultaneously with our sense of embodiment” (p.18). Part of this, he argues, is cultural, but another part of it is biological in that space arises from the interplay between our conscious mind and its environment. Second, drawing from Jacques Derrida, Farman argues that embodiment is relational. We construct our sense of space by tuning-in and tuning-out different parts of the world, similar to the way in which we perceive our body, by focusing on select sensations or areas, instead of “taking everything in” at once (p. 27). In this manner , the way we read our bodies and the world is always selective and never complete: “full, embodied presence is always being deferred” (p. 30). Third, Farman contends that mobile technologies reconfigure the ways their users can embody space, specifically how they allow the Internet to dislodge itself from the PC and move into everyday environments. In this new embodied environment, subjects locate themselves in digital space and material space simultaneously, with each shaping perceptions of the other. Ideally, the actual device becomes invisible in these interactions: as long as the technology works, we interact with it intuitively. Like space itself, the medium becomes a seemingly natural part of the field outside oneself. Farman conducts most of his discussion by reference to numerous case studies illustrating how individuals and groups have used mobile media to play with or alter their physical surroundings. Farman chooses his examples carefully, and as one who was previously unfamiliar with many of them, I found most to be fascinating. For example, Farman begins his chapter on locative gaming by describing Momentum, a 2006 “live action role-playing game” based in Stockholm that invited players to move through their own city as a playable game space. Armed with specially activated mobile phones, users navigated the cityscape and accomplished missions, using digitally generated clues to identify key locations and people within the game. For Farman, interactive games like this signal a new form of embodiment as subjects construct their space through a feedback loop recorded using both written online cues and their immediate physical surroundings, thereby creating contexts in which game space and everyday life converge. Farman’s examples are primarily heuristics focused on wider arguments

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concerning embodiment, but he does make occasioonal reference to how mobile techhnologies aree deployed in n the service of social orr political critique. Hee notes that with interestting counter-ggames such as Paula Levine’s Sann Francisco < Baghdad,, these new deevices can usee space to criticize military-industriial surveillancce just as muuch as they enable it (figure 3-1)..

Figure 3-1: Paaula Levine, Saan Francisco Baghdad prooject (http://shadow wsfromanotherpplace.net).

Farman also uses thesse examples as a a starting ppoint for mod difying or responding to previous writings w on neew media byy authors as diverse d as Elizabeth G Grosz, Lev Maanovich, Doug glas Rushkoff, f, Alexander Galloway, G and Adrianaa de Souza e Silva. S His critiique of Rich L Ling’s influen ntial book New Tech, New Ties sttrikes me as particularly interesting, revealing several of tthe strengths and weaknesses of Farmaan’s phenomeenological approach. L Ling makes the t point thaat mobile phoones reconfig gure how people priorritize face-to-fface, co-preseent interactionns. When we receive a call, he arguues, we alwayys weigh up whether w our coo-present interraction or the incominng mediated interaction i is more importtant, and wheen on the phone we abbide by the im mplicit rules that t govern coonduct in ourr physical locations (suuch as leavingg the room to o take a call oor being carefful not to discuss personal matters when w within earshot e of otheers) (Ling 200 08).

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As Farman (2011) notes, “The term “mobile” has been applied to technologies as early as papyrus, when the written word became transportable across a broad geographic space.” There were instances in social theory that treated “the move”— downward mobility and marginalization – as an anomaly occurring on the fringes of society (in the 1950s, mobilities studies, especially in the USA, usually dealt with upward mobility). However, in contemporary societies, this “exception” no longer applies. In the evolution of contemporary mobile communications, indeed, space/code concepts (integrated with the communicative and social revolution in the amplification and portability of social networks) are blended into the search for new mobility paradigms, which technological developments, and more specifically, the ecologies of wireless communications, are producing and articulating in the post-PC society. The impact of physical mobility on contemporary cultural logic is such that sociological research is becoming more focused on analytical paradigms making mobility the fundamental paradigm of our daily lives. This return to relevance of spatiality in both the physical world and the offline world is however not a return to space as it has been understood up to now: a mere container of individuals, objects, and events. As Dourish and Bell (2011) also highlighted, in light of the digitalization of the omnipresent web, the re-emergence of spatiality, starting from diverse disciplinary dominions (geography, sociology, architecture, economy, art, urban informatics, to name a few), is configured as “transduced space,”1 or, in other words, constructed and initiated continuously and socially by networks and new digital realities emerging at the intersection of mobility, geo-sociality, and increased reality. Within the aforementioned scenario in movement, the concrete problem of defining the space of action as a fundamental integrated element is evident in that it is defined by the interaction between sensorial-motor activity and the experience of the body in a specific situation while specific technologies produce the mobile connection. Therefore, the fun-damental methodological problem, still unresolved, is to determine the boundary

1

The theory of transduced space is referred to by Kittchin, Dodge (2011) in an essay in which the authors recall their previous works and the work by A. Mackenzie (2002, 2006) on the social dimensions of software and programming codes.

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between the social sensorium2 and mobile technologies arising from the current “spatial turn.”3.

The Rhythmic Body It is the rhythmic body interweaving with “the subconscious activity of the brain” (Gazzaniga 2008, 46), that is, the foundation for the physicality that binds us to the environment. Gazzaniga assures us that, despite it being prima facie counterintuitive, there is total agreement among neuroscientists that all our sensorimotor activities are unconsciously planned and executed. The unconscious beginnings of so much of what we do implies that a significant part of cognition is not dependent (at least superficially) on spoken language. Instead, the focus of our analysis is directed towards sensory motor foundation skills, since they rely on the interaction of sensation and movement. We receive sensory information from our bodies and the environment through our sensory systems (vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch, vestibular and proprioception). This sensory information is then organized and processed to produce the appropriate motor or movement responses for success in daily tasks.4 2

The term “sensorium” signifies the totality of the sensory functions that in a given moment connect the human body to the context in which it is moving and acting. See Dizionario il Ragazzini (Bologna: Zanichelli 2005, 972). 3 The term is from Warf and Arias 2009. 4 The following are sensory motor foundation skills that can influence learning and behavior to increase success (what follows is drawn from http://ves.neric .org/fitz/OT–PThtm). Sense of Proprioception (Body Awareness): Receiving adequate proprioceptive sensory information from your muscles and joints enables us to know where each part of our body is and grade movement for gross and fine motor control. Vestibular Sense (Perception of Movement): To perceive movement accurately it is necessary to receive adequate information from our vestibular sense. The vestibular system helps us to know whether we are moving or the earth is moving. It also generates the muscle tone needed to move smoothly and efficiently in the environment. Sense of Touch: This involves interpreting touch information on the skin. A child with tactile discomfort (tactile defensiveness) may have difficulty interpreting protective touch information. Sense of Vision (Visual Acuity and Visual Perception): This includes being able to see objects clearly at a distance and near (visual acuity) and being able to interpret what the eyes see (visual perception). Motor Planning: When given an unfamiliar task, motor planning is the ability to develop an idea, organize and utilize the materials needed for the task, and then sequence the steps necessary to complete the task.

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With the planetary capacity experimentation that the technique has initiated within ourselves, the most hidden root of the human being comes to light: the “rhythmic body,” which is the base on which the rational animal has always stood, profoundly reaching, the ability to reason with the human being’s animal nature. Moving beyond physiological and biological associations regarding how the senses operate through the body, this chapter represents a starting point in a theoretical and empirical analysis ly of how the they work as cognitive and socio-cultural means in different societies and cultures. We can synthetically define the rhythmic body as the result in progress of the history of the body and its interactions with the environment in constituting the identity and characteristics of the individual. Through the rhythmic body, each diverse piece of knowledge originates from its interaction with what is outside, with what is not “my body.” The body of each human being is the physical place where the world originates; it is the point of union constituted by the skin, the antenna that picks up the happenings around us, starting from our own space-time awareness. We construct reality by reacting to real events, internal or external, but our brain is not limited to reflecting these events. Instead, it processes these events based on its own models. A large proportion of the processing activities are unconscious. Reality for us is neither subjective nor objective. It is a material construction of bonds that blend what happens in the physical world (inside and outside us) with the material insertion of experience into the circuits of our brain. This occurs through a collection of correspondences instituted over time by the neural bonds that form between the characteristics of events and the catalogue of reactions that the brain has at its disposition to carry out its regulating function. These correspondences are not fixed. They can be manipulated by our body in relation to its bonds with environmental objects. Each different set of bonds creates new experiences. In fact, the rhythmic body is the source of activity for consciousness. Starting from a generic goal of survival and Coordination: Gross Motor Coordination is the ability to use large muscle groups for stability (maintaining positions and posture) and mobility within the environment. Bilateral Motor Coordination: This is the ability to use both sides of the body together to produce a coordinated movement Fine Motor Coordination: This is the ability to use the small muscle groups of the body for skilled work. Visual motor control: This is the ability to integrate visual input with motor output to perform eye-hand and eye-foot tasks. Visual motor control is an underlying skill required for refined eye-hand coordination tasks such as handwriting.

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wellbeing, a specific corporeal manipulation incorporates the emotions, feelings and reasoning that define the way in which we live. The exact ways in which the activation profiles are “connected” constitute a central problem for scientists who study brain, mind and society. One may ask how simultaneously activated processes are bound to one another to generate a continuity of experience. As in all living organisms, the human body is organized according to a specific temporal structure, where all of the vital functions demonstrate variability over periods of time that range from a few milliseconds to several months. In human beings, just as in less cognitively sophisticated organisms, the frequencies of many biological rhythms relate to periodic stimuli from the external environment, while many others are determined by internal pacemakers, totally independent of environmental input. But the external influences are not simply overlapped by the rhythms dictated by endogenous pacemakers, but are in fact modulated by them. In relation to time, the variability of the physiological condition also implies a diverse “susceptibility” of the human body to disease. Even so, pathogenic mechanisms may not be constant over time, either in terms of their presence or in their severity, so determining a variability over time of their suitability to produce clinical manifestations of disease. In their Philosophy of Mind: Classical and Contemporary Readings, Clark and Chalmers (2002) suggest an “embodied” vision of relationships between the mind and the external world. The authors propose a view of the mental which they call active externalism, based on an active role of the environment in driving cognitive processes. In the case they examine, the human body is connected to an external bidirectional interactive entity, which results in an associated system that can be viewed as a cognitive system in the true sense of the word. All of the components of the system play an active role, and together govern its behaviour, in the same way that cognition generally acts. If we eliminate the external component, the operative capacity of the system decreases, just as it would if we eliminated a part of the brain. Clark and Chalmers’s thesis is relevant to the growing number of research projects in the field of cognitive science in diverse areas including the theory of situated cognition (Suchman 1987), studies on robotics applied to the real world (Beer 1989), dynamic approaches to infant development (Thelen and Smith 1994) and research on the cognitive properties of collective agents (Hutchins 1995). It is widely accepted that all types of processes, beyond the boundaries of awareness, play crucial roles in the cognitive process: for example, in the recovery of memory, in linguistic processes and in the acquisition of skills. The brain evolved and matured in so far as there was a reliable

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presence of an external environment which could be manipulated. It certainly seems that evolution has favoured internal skills, formed to make use of the world’s environment in order to recalculate memory capacity and even transform the nature of the same computational problems. Our sensory apparatus has evolved by relying on the environment in different ways: for example, taking advantage of contingent facts relative to the structure of natural scenarios (Ullman and Richards 1984) or of the computational shortcuts produced by body movements and locomotion (Blake and Yuille 1992). Once the fundamental role of the environment as it pertains to evolution and the development of cognition is acknowledged, extended cognition becomes a true cognitive process. Entering into this process, the rhythmic body becomes the central point of intersection between time, action, and context. Nevertheless, how is the passage of time fixed, how are the significant benchmarks “domesticated,” how are the most important memories marked? In anthropological and ethnographical repertoires, the history of archaic humanity gives extensive and significant answers to these questions. According to Descola (2005, 57), the rhythmic body constitutes, indeed, the difference that separates the modern Western World from all the populations of the present and the past, which have not considered it necessary to proceed with the naturalisation of the world.

Bodies in Action in Context: the ethics of complexity There is a great need to review and expand our vision of the human condition, to be closer to reality, not just for others but, above all, for ourselves. Pericorporeal space, as highlighted by current mobile spaces and proven in the laboratory by the discovery of mirror neurons, encourages the forces of culture, above all sociological culture, to reconsider the body’s function in the context of its own temporal and spatial systems. As American anthropologist Edward T. Hall (1988, 234) so keenly defines it, the space that surrounds the body in action in context is the “hidden dimension” of modern culture. In fact, a large part of culture lies hidden in the so-called “unconscious,” beyond the control of the will, although constituting the warp and woof of human existence. From animal to man, they forge bodily architectures through which sensations are transformed into symbols. Numerous studies indicate that our social expectations derive from these more elementary sensorimotor predictions. According to Poincaré (1908, 86–87), these “relations” are “potential motor acts” that explain in dynamic form an object’s position in space. The motor constitution of space was defined by Poincaré as the mutual

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coordination of “multiple parades” made possible simply by stretching out one’s arm (1913, 88). And as early as 1905, Austrian physicist Ernst Mach maintained that starting from these movements, our body maps the space that surrounds us, and it is by virtue of their goals that space takes shape for us5. According to Mach, it is sensations that produce external bodies, any difference between the physical and psychic element, and the conventional relationship of cause and effect, supplanted by the concept of function defined as the correlation of phenomena,lapses. The sensorimotor complex establishes in perico-poreal space the constraint of physicality that, according to Gazzaniga (2008, 83), binds us to the environment. Most interactions with the environment take place, indeed, as localization which are defined by the bodily boundary, corresponding to the irreversible time of evolutions towards the equilibrium that the present-day physical world recognizes as the rhythmic time of structures whose pulsing feeds on the flows that traverse them. (Prigogine 1981, 274)

Bodies in action in context constitute, therefore, the primary empirical field through which sociological inquiry performs on site experimentation on the most important discovery in neuroscience of the last decade: namely, the mirror neurons. Identified for the first time by a group of neurophysiologists headed by Giacomo Rizzolatti at the neurosciences laboratory of the University of Parma. Without a doubt, as Iacoboni observed, “mirror neurons have provided a plausible explanation for complex forms of cognition and social interaction for the first time in history.”6 Rizzolatti’s équipe was dedicated to the experimental study of 5

Ernst Mach’s thought – signally, his sensist interpretation of reality and his criticism of language – directly influenced the Viennese circle and the philosophical current of logical positivism, as well as such authors as Herman Bahr who borrowed from Mach the definition of Unrettbares Ich (the unsavable “I”), and Robert Musil who based his own philosophy doctoral thesis on Mach’s theories. His philosophy is generally referred to by the name “empiriocriticism” (see Mach 1886, 1903, 1905). 6 Mirror neurons are a specific class of neurons first discovered in monkeys; the identification of these in humans is still in process, but their existence is certain. Through neuro-imaging studies it has been possible to demonstrate that the same neurons activated during actions are also activated in the observer of the same actions. Further investigations extended to human beings not only confirmed the neuronal activity based on neuro-imaging studies, but also came to the conclusion that these neurons were not only activated in amputees or in subjects with paralyzed limbs ,but in sight impaired or blind subjects as well: for example, the

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an area marked F5, situated in a large cerebral region denominated the motor cortex, the portion of the neo-cortex involved in the planning, the selection, and the execution of actions. The F5 area contains millions of neurons specialised in the encoding of a specific motor behaviour: hand actions , how to grip, hold, grab, and— the most fundamental of all—how to carry objects (especially food) to the mouth These are the most basic actions for all primates to master. Over the years since the first studies of mirror neurons, Rizzolatti’s équipe also discovered a group of cells in the F5 area with another characteristic that could not be explained. These were cells which were activated while gripping objects, as well as while looking at objects to be gripped. The cells were labelled “canonical neurons.” In synthesis, the actions of gripping and the motor organization necessary to hold and eat a piece of fruit, for example, are closely connected to the “comprehension” of that same piece of fruit. It was Rizzolatt’s intuition regarding the role of the cerebral motor areas in the creation of “spatial maps” surrounding the body that prompted the first studies by the Parmabased group which led to the discovery of mirror neurons,; denominated the “pre–movement theory of attention.” “The brain that acts is, above all, a brain that understands!” (Rizzolatti and Sinigaglia 2006, 3).

’Act’! The State of Flow’ In his seminal work, Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, Csíkszentmihályi notes that people are happiest when they are in a state of flow—a state of concentration or complete absorption in a situation with the activity at hand. It is a state in which we are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter (Csíkszentmihályi 1990). The flow state is an optimal state of intrinsic motivation in which the person is fully immersed in what he is doing. This is a feeling everyone has at times, characterized by a feeling of great absorption, engagement, fulfilment and skill— during which temporal concerns (time, food, ego-self, etc.) are typically ignored. In an interview with Wired magazine, Csíkszentmihályi described flow as “being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away; time flies. Every action, movement and thought inevitably follows from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.” According to Csíkszentmihályi, by “flow” we mean the focused concentration and absorption in the work that we are doing. For example, sound of water poured from a pitcher into a glass activates the same neurons in the blind subject as those activated in subjects who see the water being poured from the pitcher into the glass.

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a painter whho is working on a painting g and is so ab sorbed in his//her work to not pay anny notice to thhe passage of time, may be constituting a “state of flow.” The ssame state cann be reached when w a surgeoon performs a difficult operation w where he/she is required to implement alll of his/her skills s and abilities. Thhe ability to reeadily answerr increases effficiency and promotes adaptation tto a changingg environment. On the othher hand, situ uations of uncertainty produce elevaated psycho-p physiological costs illustratted in the diagram creaated by the Am merican psych hiatrist as folloows:

Diagram by Csíkszentmihály C yi (1997), dem monstrating how w different Figure 3-2: D mental states can be conceivved of as the pro oduct of challennges and abilitiees (1997).

To achiieve a flow state, a balaance must bee struck betw ween the challenge off the task andd the skill of th he performer. If the task iss too easy or too difficcult, flow cannnot occur. Both B skill leveel and challen nge level must be maatched and higgh; if skill an nd challenge are low and matched, then apathy results. The flow f state also o implies a kinnd of focused attention, a and indeed, it has been noted n that min ndfulness, medditation, yogaa, Tai Chi Chuan, the Alexander Teechnique and martial arts sseem to impro ove a our capacity forr flow. Amonng other beneffits, all of theese activities train and improve atteention. What Cssíkszentmihályyi attempted to identify w were the circu umstances that determiine the “state of flow.” Co onsidering thee situations in terms of the challengges that each presents p and th he abilities of the subject in nvolved in them, the “sstate of flow” occurs in con ntexts charactterized by a high h level of challengge and abilityy, within wh hich the abillity of the subject s is

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measured by the demands of the objective to be reached. When the challenge exceeds the abilities, the result is stress. When the abilities exceed the challenge, we acquire a sense of control that can become boredom as the level of the challenge decreases. The emotional responses generated by this implementation of action through the involvement of diverse nervous circuits results in changes in the state of arousal in the brain and in other systems in the body. Emotions are processes, most of which are unconscious, having the essential purpose of creating a state of tendency to action, preparing us to react with determined behaviours to particular environmental stimuli. According to Antonio Damasio (1994, 1999; Damasio et al. 2000), basic emotions are encoded into the brain stem, into a very archaic structure which we actually have in common with reptiles. The primary “I” does not think, but instead reacts and feels.7 The obvious evolutionary advantage associated with basic mechanisms that permit rapid evaluation of objects and events in the external world explains the central role of these processes in our brains. The initial indicative response ’Be careful’ in only a few microseconds becomes ’Act!’ through the arousal processes that direct the flows of energy within the system. In fact, the state of arousal activates cognitive mechanisms — ‘Be careful!’ — which do not require participation at a conscious level. The obvious evolutionary advantage associated with basic mechanisms that permit rapid evaluation of objects and events in the external world explains the central role of these processes in our brains. Recent neurological experiments demonstrate that the continuous exercising of the state of arousal solicits neurogenesis. The first proof of real growth in the dimensions of cerebral structures in relation to environmental factors, also considered on a large scale, was provided by no less than London taxi drivers only a decade ago (Maguire 2000). This discovery is striking especially for its simplicity and its explicative relevance. In London taxi drivers, whose work requires memorizing a significant quantity of complex routes and locations, the hippocampus is particularly large, much more so than in most other occupations . Considering the importance of the hippocampus for spatial memory and the fact that London taxi drivers must memorize such a high 7

It was possible to perform experimental studies on some primary emotions: the results demonstrate that when we observe a manifestation of pain or disgust in others, the same neuronal substrate connected to the first person perception of the same type of emotion is activated. Another confirmation is provided by clinical studies on patients afflicted by neurological pathologies: once the ability to experience an emotion is lost, a person is no longer able to recognize the same emotion when expressed by others.

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number of routes and locations, it is a logical conclusion that their hippocampus must be under significant stress, just as a weightlifter places stress on the muscles. Furthermore, the hippocampus is even larger in those subjects who have been in this business for longer : the size of the hippocampus is, therefore, directly proportional to the number of years in the business. This implies that there is a direct relation between the quantity of some types of mental activities and the dimensions of the neural structure involved in that specific activity. The results obtained with the taxi drivers are important from several points of view. Above all, the results demonstrate how an important neural structure can also continue to grow in adulthood. The fact that the growth of a neural structure is stimulated through use is even more relevant. In this case the effects of accentuated cognitive stimulation seem to overtake the deteriorating effects of age. The results obtained with the taxi drivers, however spectacular, constituted an exception for a certain period of time. Moreover, a single research project was not sufficient owing to the exceptional nature of the discovery. After a few years, a research study appeared in Nature, a most respected scientific journal. It was ,based on magnetic resonance (MR) used to measure cerebral changes in jugglers (Draganski 2004). Several volunteers, in excellent health, none of whom had any previous experience in the field, trained for three months as jugglers. At the end of the training, the volunteers could juggle with at least three balls in the air. When their cerebral MR scans taken before and after the training period were compared, the result was an increase in the grey matter in the temporal lobes of both hemispheres of the brain and in the parietal lobe of the left hemisphere. This effect lessened after interruption of the training exercises, and the advantage acquired in the temporal lobes and parietal lobes decreased; in particular, after interrupting the juggling exercises, the third RM examination demonstrated loss of grey matter. It can be deduced from these results that the effects of practical activities on the proliferation of neurons in specific parts of the brain can also be observed over relatively brief periods of time.

Conclusions With the discovery of mirror neurons, the human animal sees itself as the body in action in context. In fact, what is space for action, if not the total of all the “places” we have access to by reaching out our hand? The spatial map identified in the hippocampus of mice by O’Keefe and Dovstrovsky in 1971 showed that space is the bonding problem par

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excellence. O’Keefe disccovered that when an aniimal moves, its brain breaks downn the surrounnding environ nment into maany small overlapping areas, similaar to a mosaicc. O’Keefe and d others proveed that the spaatial map, even of a sim mple space, iss not formed in nstantly, but ttakes shape ov ver a span of time rangging from 10 to t 15 minutes after the mouuse has entered d the new environmentt (O’Keefe annd Dostrovsky y 1971). This characteristicc suggests that the mapp’s formation is a learning g process. In hhis initial form mulation, O’Keefe connsidered the spatial s map ass a kind of coompass that th he animal uses to oriennt itself as it ’navigates’ th hrough the terrritory. Attentiion to the environmentt is sufficient to allow a spaatial map to fo form and to co onsolidate for several hhours. Long-teerm stability is i systematicaally correlated d with the degree of sppecific attenttion to the en nvironment reequired of thee animal. When an annimal is forceed to pay greeat attention tto a new env vironment while at thee same time having h to learrn a spatial ttask and to ex xplore an unknown ennvironment, thhe map remaiins stable for days. The maap has its own physicaal reality corrresponding to o events of seensorimotor in ntegration that are re-pprocessed. As Pietrro Pietrini expplains (2007, 69), there is a small regio on of the brain calledd V5MT, locatted in the so--called visual cortex, which h collects information from various sensory paths and thhen stores it i in the hippocampuus. The experiiment perform med by Japannese researcheers on the F4 premotorr area in a young macaque previously trrained to use a stick or rake to retriieve things; situated s a cerrtain distance away proved d that the tactile recepptive field varies with the variation v of thhe body’s mov vement in the surroundding space (figgure 3-3).

Figure 3-3: E Examples of recceptive fields off certain bimoddal neurons present in the macaque’s F44 premotor areea. The two-dim mensional regiion in grey ind dicates the tactile recepttive field, while the transparrent solid indiicates the corrresponding visual receptiive field (Bonciinelli 2000).

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As the experiment on the young macaque reveals, the signalling devices located in every part of mammals’ bodies—in the skin, muscles, retina, and so on—help construct neural configurations that constitute the map of interaction between the body and the Umwelt. The construction of these neural configurations is based on the momentary selection of neurons and circuits involved in the interaction. The spatial map is one with the living body’s tactile sensitivity and, in the history of evolution, constitutes the monitoring mechanism that provides each different species with a “constantly updated narrative on why we act and how we act” (Humphrey 1974, 241–255). It may be supposed that the spatial map is the basic integrated unit that, from mammal to Homo sapiens, combines the interactive sequences of evolution based on the development of specialized abilities aimed at solving specific problems. In animal cultures, the spatial map forges the characteristics that, in the biological history of consciousness, are the basis of our inheritance of animal intelligence. This inheritance, according to Vallortigara (2000, 410), is defined by the boundaries between “me” and “not me”. Where the membranes delimit organisms and their parts, and preside over the exchanges of matter, energy and information, events had to be classified for the purposes of appropriate responses. I like what’s happening to me, so I’m staying here, or I don’t like it so I shrink back and go away.

Here, we introduce the hypothesis that the topographical construction of these boundaries regulates the order of selective processes within which the evolution of biological rhythms takes place. A test of this hypothesis can be seen in oral cultures. Leroi-Gourhan demonstrates that the itineraries of the rhythmic body construct the traditional “domesticity” resulting from the progressive equilibrium that the human body manages to negotiate with environmental cycles in the habitats where its social life is concentrated. Through the ways in which the rhythmic body functions within the different habitats, our nature is revealed as culture maker. In fact, the rhythmic body is a means of orientation, a compass, which expresses itself not just with language, but also in the tangible stratification of places, in the spaces inhabited for centuries and millennia, and in urban structures. Starting from the Paleolithic revolution—and indeed even earlier, with the use of tools—the modern human brain was irreversibly influenced by interactions between the body and material and symbolic artefacts. Cognitive science, computer science, and the neurosciences are conducting detailed studies into the working of the mind. There is, indeed, a growing view in cognitive neuroscience that embodiment is a reflection

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of grounded cognition. This is a theoretical and empirical view that conceptual knowledge is divisible into domains, and that these domains are in large part determined by partially separable brain networks. Any one network is the location for information encoding, memory storage, retrieval, and mental manipulation. For example, brain areas that are used to manipulate a tool are the same as those used to know what a tool is, to remember tools in general, to plan new actions, and to learn about new tools. The same applies for social networks, non-tool objects, and so on. This has implications in that it implies there are different categories of knowledge that embody the world in different ways. There is not one unique neural embodiment “system” or process. The body does indeed synchronize human memory and action in chemical and physical flows that constitute the limits of its presence in the environment. The catalyst for building these limits is the rhythmic body. Modern man has set time out of kilter. As a result, we now live at a pace that is dissonant with our inner needs, even though time has recently become a central issue of discourse in social sciences. In particular, much of this rising interest can be seen in an awareness of changing time in this digital media society.8 Despite a growing number of reflections about the body, there currently exist no complete works based on the sense and associative functions of corporeality as an “entity” located within space and time, particularly in the dominion of social sciences and, more specifically, in the field of sociology. It is not a question of reconstructing the history of the body and its conceptualisation, nor of revisiting the paradigms through which the body has been contemplated. It is , on the contrary, a question of focussing on current paradigms for the identification of corporeality as thesum of sensory-motor abilities that permit the body to interact successfully with the environment that surrounds it. This is graphically illustrated in poststructuralist thought, although Foucault put great emphasis on the role of the body in the construction of social action. Nevertheless, mainstream poststructuralist theories view bodies as reconfigured, fluid, multiple, and dispersed. In this respect, a central 8

According to Bolter (1984), some technologies occupy a special place in their age. The clock and the steam engine in Western Europe in the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, respectively, not only changed the world in a material sense, but also provided new ways by wich people viewed and understood both physical and metaphysical worlds. These were technologies that defined the age when they were invented and first widely used: in the same way, ICTs, including the Internet, are the defining technologies of our age. They not only change many aspects of our material existence, but also affect the way we live the world.

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paradox emerges, namely that along with technological developments, the recent upsurge of interest in the body veils, or even undermines still further, our conceptions of what it means to be embodied. According to Goldberg (2009, 254), we consider embodiment as a dynamic process that captures the essence of higher-order cognition, just like the classic reflex captures the essence of simpler behaviour. As Goldberg notes: “the brain dynamics of the novelty-familiarity cycle has not been well understood.” The transition from novelty to familiarity is a fundamental cycle of human cognition. If it is desirable that an environment produces rich, vivid images, it follows that these images be communicable and adaptable to changing practical needs, and that new groupings, new meanings, new bonds can develop. A prerequisite for grasping, indeed, the nature of mind would be, first, and foremost, an appropriate perspective. On the contrary, up until today, the neural mechanisms of generating novel constructs remain, a puzzle. Curiously, much more effort in both experimental research and modelling is directed at what happens in the brain once the construct has been generated, working memory being an example rather than on the generative mechanisms of decision making themselves. An attempt at such re-orienting should be a complete study of the sociology of the body, demonstrating how nature and culture interact, how brain and mind produce each other. In the actions of ’gripping with the hand and the mouth’ or only ’gripping with the hand,’ indeed, those ’orientation and gripping activities' take shape, just as Jean-Pierre Changeux and Paul Ricoeur (1998, 162) emphasized: These contribute to the configuration of the world as a practicable environment, sprinkled with streets, obstacles, briefly constituting a liveable world.

References Arbib, M. 2005. The Mirror System Hypothesis: Linking Language to Theory of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Beer, R. 1989. Intelligence as Adaptive Behavior. New York: Academic Press. Blake, A., and A. Yuille. 1992. Active Vision. Cambridge MA: MIT Press. Bolter, J. D. 1984. Turing’s Man: Western Culture in the Computer Age. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. Changeux, J. P., and P. Ricoeur. 1998. La nature et la regle. Paris: Odile Jacob.

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Csíkszentmihályi, M. 1997. Finding Flow: The Psychology of Engagement with Everyday Life. New York: Basic Books. Clark, A., and D. Chalmers. 2002. Microcognition: Philosophy, Cognitive Science and Parallel Distributed Processing. Cambridge MA: MIT Press. Damasio, A. 1994. Descartes’ Error: Emotion, Reason, and the Human Brain. New York: Putnam. —. 1999. The Feeling of What Happens: Body and Emotion in the Making of Consciousness. Orlando: Harcourt. —. 2000. Looking for Spinoza: Joy, Sorrow, and the Feeling Brain. Orlando: Harcourt. —. 2010. Self Comes to Mind: Constructing the Conscious Brain. NewYork: Pantheon. Damasio, A. R., T. J. Grabowski, A. Bechara, H. Damasio, L. Ponto, J. Parvizi, et al. 2000. “Subcortical and Cortical Brain Activity During the Feeling of Self-generated Emotions.” Nature Neuroscience 3: 1049–1056. Descola, P. 2005. Par-de-là nature et culture. Paris: Gallimard. De Souza e Silva, A., and D. Sutko. 2009. Digital Cityscapes: Merging Digital and Urban Playspaces. New York: Peter Lang. —. 2010. “Local Mobile Social Networks: Mapping Communication and Location in Urban Spaces.” Mobilities 5, no. 4: 485–506. Dourish, P., and D. Bell. 2011. Divining a Digital Future: Mess and Mythology in Ubiquitous Computing. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Draganski, B., et al. 2004. “Neuroplasticity: Changes in Grey Matter Induced by Training.” Nature 427, no. 6972: 311–312. Edelman, G. 1992. Bright Air, Brilliant Fire: On the Matter of Mind. New York: Basic Books. Farman, J. 2011. Mobile Interface Theory: Embodied Spaces and Locative Media. New York: Routledge. Foucault, M. 1975. Surveiller et punir: naissance de la prison. Paris: Gallimard Galloway, A. 2001. “Protocol or How Control Exists after Decentralization.” Rethinking Marxism 13: 81–8. Gazzaniga, M. 2008. Human: The Science Behind What Makes Us Unique. New York: Harper Perennial. Goldberg, E. 2009. The Executive Brain. New York: Oxford University Press. Grosz, E. 2008. Chaos, Territory, Art: Deleuze and the Framing of the Earth. New York: Columbia University Press.

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—. 2011. Becoming Undone: Darwinian Reflections on Life, Politics and Art. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Hall, E. T. 1959. The Silent Language. New York, NY: Garden City. Published in Italian as La dimensione nascosta. Vicino e lontano. Il significato delle distanze tra le persone. Milano: Bompiani, 1966. —. 1984. The Dance of Life: The Other Dimension of Time. New York: Anchor Books. Humphrey, N. K. 1983. Consciousness Regained. Oxford: Oxford University Press —. 1992. A History of the Mind. London: Chatto & Windus. Published in Italian as Una storia della mente. Torino: Instasr, 1998. Kitchin, R., and M. Dodge. 2011. Code/Space: Software and Everyday Life. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Leroi–Gourhan, A. 1964. Il gesto e la parola. Torino: Einaudi. Ling, R. 2008. New Tech, New Ties: How Mobile Communication is Reshaping Social Cohesion. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Llinás, R. R. 2002. I of the Vortex: From Neurons to Self. Cambridge: MIT Press. Lloyd, D. 2006. Radiant Cool: The Strange Case of the Human Mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Mach, E. 1886. Die Analyse der Empfindungen und das Verhältnis des Physischen zum Psychischen. Published in Italian as L’analisi delle sensazioni (1975). —. 1905. Erkenntnis und Irrtum. Published in Italian as Conoscenza ed errore (1982). Maguire, E. A., et al. 2000. “Navigation-related Structural Change in the Hyppocampi of Taxi Drivers.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA 97, no. 8: 4398–4403. Manovich, L. 1999. “Database as Symbolic Form.” Convergence 5, no. 80. http://con.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/5/2/80. Mazzarella, E. 2004. Vie d’uscita. L’identità umana come programma stazionario metafisico. Genova: Il Melangolo. Oberman L. M., J. A. Pineda, and W.S. Ramachandran. 2007. “The Human Mirror Neuron System: A Link between Action Observation and Social Skills.” Soc. Cogn. Affect. Neurosciences 2, no. 1: 62–66. Rizzolatti, G. 2006. So quel che fai. Il cervello cheagisce e i neuroni– specchio. Milano: Raffaello Cortina. —. 2010. “The Functional Role of the Parietofrontal Mirror Circuit: Interpretations and Misinterpretations.” Nature Review Neuroscience 11, no. 4: 264–274.

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CHAPTER FOUR TIMING IS EVERYTHING: ACTIVATING IDENTITY WORK ANNE F. EISENBERG AND RYAN S. GRAHAM

Abstract Eisenberg’s autoethnographic experiences in Poland serve as the basis for developing a new integrative identity theory. In this paper we present the idea of an identity matrix consisting of a collection of an individual’s potential identities—self, group and collective—and how the construction and maintenance of such a matrix is normally a subtle and unnoticed social process inherent throughout the life course. Synchronicity exists when individuals select an appropriate identity point for a given interactional space allowing interactions to progress to completion. However, we argue that the identity matrix becomes starkly evident, and asynchronicity occurs, when individuals encounter contradictions between available identity points and either (1) new situations; (2) a new potential identity point; or (3) incorrect activation of an identity point given a particular situation. This asynchronicity then requires identity work to either reaffirm the original identity matrix or to reshape it to reduce the effects of asynchronicity. Using ethnographical data from the first author’s experiences in Poland as the basis for the discussion, this chapter explores the theoretical impact on identity and identity work when asynchronicity occurs. Keywords: Poland; Judaism; Authoethnography

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Introduction: Reconstructing Eisenberg’s grandfather As far as I (Eisenberg) knew, Samuel Eisenberg did not exist prior to his arrival at Ellis Island in New York City. Over ninety years after his arrival in America, the most information I could piece together about my grandfather’s life before he left Poland were simple facts—he was born in 1902 either in Kiev or in Warsaw; his grandfather may have been a furrier; he played for the national Polish soccer team (so he told me); his mother died and his stepmother sent him to Warsaw to live with his grandparents (told to me by my aunt); he lived outside of Warsaw with his mother (who did NOT die), father and siblings (of unknown quantity and told to me by my uncle); and he joined the French Foreign Legion as a way to escape from Poland (fanciful and imaginative). Armed with this information, in June 2011 I found myself at the Taube Foundation’s Jewish Genealogy and Family Heritage office in Warsaw, Poland. Located across from the Jewish Historical Museum in the part of the city known as Nove Miasto (New Town) it is in a building where the largest synagogue in Warsaw once stood before the Nazis destroyed it in World War II. I had always been curious about my grandfather’s past and whether all of his family really did die in the Holocaust, which is what he told me when I was a teenager and he had just returned from visiting Poland. But, now that I was in Warsaw and so close to where he may have once lived, uncovering this information seemed to take on a new meaning. I was now much closer than ever before to finding out more about my grandfather’s, and thus my own, past. Two of the three staff people in the office proceeded to search a vast array of computer resources, trying to verify the information I provided. It was a surprisingly deflating feeling to hear that none of the facts I had about my grandfather could be confirmed and that now I knew even less about who he was. While they were searching different databases, I asked what they normally spent their time doing, as I guessed that they did not get many Americans exploring their Polish past. They confirmed that my visit was rare and stated that the majority of their time is spent helping younger Poles discover their Jewish identity. When I asked for clarification, one of the staff members said that over the past ten years they have worked with over 3,000 Poles—most of whom were between the ages of 20 and 30—who had discovered some artifact after an elderly relative died indicating that they may be Jewish. As one staff member stated, “Those Poles who are willing to ‘come out’ as being Jewish will come to us to determine whether they are actually Jewish.” When he said “come out” he used his hands to indicate quotation marks around the phrase—I was

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literally startled, both by the use of the expression itself as well as the physical parenthetical. After all, I was familiar with the phrase referencing the process used by the LGBT community to identify themselves to others, but not in terms of identifying a part of one’s past. I then asked how many such Poles may not be willing to “come out” as being Jewish—he estimated that there are probably between 6,000 to 9,000 Poles who may actually be Jewish but had either not yet discovered their ancestry or were hesitant about exploring such a past. I thought about what it must be like to discover that you MIGHT be Jewish, as I walked back to my hotel, and to then take the next step to discover if you really are—particularly in a country whose treatment of Jews in the past has ranged from welcoming, as with the kings of Poland in the eleventh century, to “mild” anti-Semitism where Jews were segregated in specific parts of the major cities but still allowed to live relatively free lives, to the virulent anti-Semitism associated with the Nazi program in World War II. So—how might a non-Jewish Pole react to the news that he or she may, by ancestry, actually be Jewish? More generally, how do we process new identities when they may clash with already held identities? How do we manage our established identities in new contexts and situations in which such identities may cause conflict? Current discussions of identity serve as the basis for a new, integrative theory concerning how we manage different sets of identities and the work required to maintain these sets of identities. In this paper, we first provide some historical background about Polish Jews and what seems to be their contemporary situation. Eisenberg then presents an autoethnographic description of her experience in Poland during the summers of 2011 and 2012. We then present the theory of identify synchronisation and illustrate its application for understanding the ethnographic data. We close the chapter by discussing the broader implications for the idea of identity work and future research applications.

Poland and its Jewish population Jewish history is closely tied to Poland’s history from its inception as a distinct geographic entity. The Kingdom of Poland was founded in 1025 and the earliest recorded permanent Jewish settlement is noted in the city of PrzemyĞi in 1085. The early Polish kings welcomed Jewish immigration into the country as they brought skills and trades needed in what was then a rapidly developing economy. Unlike other countries in Europe, the nobility constituted up to 12% of the population and Jews served as bursars and financial managers for the Polish nobility. Again unlike other

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European countries, it was the noble class that appointed the king and over the centuries the nobility and the king equally determined the direction of the country. Included in these decisions was formal legislation protecting the rights of Poland’s Jewish communities to travel freely, practice their religion free from oppression, to own and operate businesses, and to participate in all aspects of Polish secular life. While there were pogroms against Jews in Poland, they were considered minor when compared to what Jews experienced in other countries, and this evaluation resulted in continuous immigration of Jews from other European countries into Poland. By the beginning of the nineteenth century Jews constituted almost 10% of the Polish population. Throughout its history, during the times that Poland existed as an independent country, it was considered a safe haven for Europe’s Jewish population, and this was evident in the dynamic and flourishing Jewish community. Prior to World War II, Poland was home to over two thirds of all European Jews, and was second only to the United States in terms of where Jews lived. Jews made significant contributions to Polish culture, education and to Poland’s economy. In some towns and cities, such as OĞwiĊcim, Jews constituted over half of the population and were active in the local government. World War II was devastating to Poland in three specific ways. First—Hitler viewed the Poles as only one step above the Jews and the Roma, and he fully intended to exterminate the Poles as well. In fact, the Polish intelligentsia was the first group of people to be arrested by the Nazi invaders and put into concentration camps. Thus, non-Jewish Poles were treated as inhumanely as were the Jews and Romas. Second, Hitler built all of the Nazi death camps in Poland and by the end of the war 90% of Poland’s Jewish population had been killed. After repatriation from other countries and those who survived the concentration camps, there were approximately 200,000 Jews living in Poland after the end of World War II. However, the 1946 Kielcie pogrom resulted in a large migration of Polish Jews to other countries, and the 1968 communist purge of Jews had the same result. Today it is estimated that there are only between 10,000 and 16,000 Jews living in Poland—in the 2002 official Polish census only 1,133 people identified as being Jewish, although research indicates that this severely underestimates the number of Jews in Poland. Finally, by World War II Poland lost its status as an independent country—after the invasion of the German Nazis came the Russians who, during the war, expelled the Germans. The Russian-influenced communist government then ruled Poland until 1989 when the Solidarity movement, strongly supported by the remaining Polish Jews, was able to win democratic control of the country.

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A free and independent country once again, Poland has engaged in a process of reexamining and recapturing its history as it works toward creating a national identity reflective of its current status as an independent country and member of the European Union. This process includes a national dialogue concerning the Holocaust’s effects on both Jewish and non-Jewish Poles as well as a growing interest in Jewish culture and Jewish life. With directives and funding from local, state and national governments to establish Jewish studies programmes, as well as support and funding from American and Israeli Jewish foundations, Poland has steadfastly excavated its past as a way of shaping its future. The efforts to revive Jewish culture indicate that Poles are revitalizing what was once an important aspect of Polish society. In other words, there seems to be a collective effort to acknowledge the role of Jewish life in Poland’s history and to create a new place for Jewish life in Poland’s future. Examples of this include: x Jewish cultural festivals occurring in a number of cities across Poland, including in Warsaw and Krakow. The Krakow Jewish cultural festival began in 1988 and is now one of the largest Jewish festivals in the world. It includes musical concerts, tours of historic Jewish areas, and workshops concerning Jewish culture and language over the course of nine days. x The Auschwitz Jewish Centre Foundation began in 1995 and in 2000 opened the Auschwitz Jewish Centre containing the Chevra Lomdei Mishnayot synagogue, a museum and an education centre. The centre is located in the town of OĞwiĊcim and prides itself as a “guardian of Jewish memory,” accomplished through educational workshops presented to Poles and the museum detailing Jewish life prior to the Holocaust. x Jewish studies programmes at many of the major Polish universities including Jagiellonian University and Warsaw University. These programs have increasing numbers of majors who study the history and culture of Jews as well as learning to speak Yiddish and Hebrew. x The building of the new Museum of the History of Polish Jews, set to open in Warsaw in July 2013. The museum is funded by the city of Warsaw, the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage, and the Jewish community itself.

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Eisenberg’s Polish experiences It is in this contemporary Poland that Eisenberg, in June 2011, participated in an international faculty seminar, with seventeen faculty members from universities and colleges across the United States, entitled “Ruin and Revival: History, Modern Memory, and Identity.” The first part of the seminar was held in Krakow during the Jewish cultural festival and consisted of guest lectures by scholars, journalists and members of the Jewish community, as well as site visits to area museums and memorials such as Auschwitz. One of the first presenters was Konstanty Gebert, a noted journalist and representative of the Polish Jewish community, who talked about how “being Jewish” in Poland has changed over time. He described the vacuum of religious and historical knowledge among the Jews who remained in Poland after World War II. Few elders of the Jewish community survived the Holocaust to pass on information about Jewish history and religious rituals such as celebrating the Shabbas. Additionally, the majority of elders who did survive the concentration camps immigrated to other countries after the 1948 Kielce pogrom. The practice of Judaism was not encouraged by the communist government, but prior to 1968 it supported secular Jewish education and cultural programs. Gebert and his friends who knew of their Jewish heritage explored it through informally organized university classes—learning to speak Hebrew and learning about some of the religion’s rituals. However, in 1968 the purging of Jews from the communist party commenced, and then in 1981 came a coup in the party that resulted in such education being formally forbidden. Subsequently, it became an underground movement. As one of the leaders of this underground Jewish community that they called the “Jewish Flying University,” Gebert described receiving phone calls in the middle of the night from people who would not share their names, but asked if he could tell them what it meant to be Jewish. People would gather at each other’s homes, with curtains or shades drawn, to continue their studies or to celebrate the Sabbath. Until 1989, “being Jewish” was not an easy, or even necessarily safe, identity to take, but the change to a democratic and pluralistic government in 1989 allowed the Jewish community to once again be public. Over forty years later, the joy that Gebert experienced learning how to “be Jewish” as well as encouraging the development of a Jewish community was evident in the passion with which he spoke. Gebert finished his presentation by describing how the Jewish community in Poland today is growing, active, and vibrant, as evidenced by the Jewish cultural festival. His first-person experience as a Polish Jew was captivating and Gebert’s obvious

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enthrallment with the continued development of Jewish life today was compelling. On another day of the seminar, we visited Kazimierz (the former Jewish district of Krakow) where the Jewish cultural festival was being held. In the morning, we were given a tour of the area by an American academic whose ex-husband is a Polish Jew. She had lived in Krakow for several years. The tour took us to the three remaining synagogues in Krakow—one is now a museum, another is in the process of being restored, and the third is still an active synagogue. We also visited a contemporary bookstore/publishing house and a Jewish café. Our guide described the almost 700-year-old Jewish community of Krakow and its rich heritage. When asked how many Polish Jews still live in Krakow, our guide’s response was to discuss what “makes a Jew”—is it that your mother is Jewish (the traditional religious criteria); or that you are interested, and participate, in Jewish festivals and culture; or is it that you want to be Jewish and thus participate in Jewish rituals such as the lighting of Shabbas candles on Friday night? It turns out that determining the number of Polish Jews in Warsaw depends on such criteria—one answer is that there are 200 Polish Jews if counting only those individuals registered with the only active synagogue in the area. We then spent that afternoon in the Jewish Community Centre (JCC) of Krakow listening to a series of speakers. Opened in 2008 (with the strong financial and political support of Prince Charles of England), the JCC has over 400 active members and provides educational and community programmes for all ages. The first speaker was the assistant director of the centre, who had just earned a baccalaureate degree in Jewish studies and explained her evident passion for Jewish life and culture. She recounted to us how one day, while walking in her hometown, she noticed a building with strange lettering on it. She asked her mother what it was and was surprised to learn that it was a synagogue, as no Jews lived in her town. This prompted her to learn more about the history of Jews in her town and Jewish culture more generally, resulting in her attending university to major in Jewish studies. She said, as we heard many non-Jewish Poles say throughout our stay in Poland, how Jewish history and culture is Polish history and culture. Thus, for Poland to move forward its history must include Jewish history. Another speaker at the JCC was the then Director of Education for Auschwitz who told us about his role in creating a national history curriculum for middle and high school students that directly addresses the Holocaust and its impact on Poles—Jew and non-Jew. He described how incomplete Polish history was as presented by the communist government—including the exclusion

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of information about World War II, such as how half of the people murdered at Auschwitz were Jews and how 90% of Poland’s Jews were murdered by the Nazis. He detailed the controversies associated with totally revising the history curriculum for primary and secondary schools, explaining that historians across the country were overwhelmed after Solidarity’s triumph over the communist government. They realized, he said, that at least three generations of Poles had learned an incomplete and inaccurate history of Poland. They had to develop brand new history curricula for all grades, and part of the process involved re-educating the majority of Poles. On the fourth, and last, day of the seminar in Krakow we were given a tour of the Auschwitz Jewish Centre in OĞwiĊcim as well as a guest lecture by its young director. The museum consists of three major sections. In the first section are archival documents illustrating Jewish life in OĞwiĊcim prior to World War II, where at one point in time half of the citizens and half of the city council were Jewish. There were pictures of secular and religious Jews, letters they wrote one another, school pictures, and family pictures. The second section of the museum consists of a documentary film interviewing former residents of OĞwiĊcim (who had been children at the time). The film shows family pictures from their childhood and then the interview itself. All of the people who participated were currently living in Israel and many of them mentioned how they still considered OĞwiĊcim their home. The final, and newest, section of the museum consists of a series of interviews with more former residents of OĞwiĊcim, all of whom now live in Israel. The centre also contains educational classrooms and archival materials. Additionally, you can go into the Chevra Lomdei Mishnayot synagogue itself—which is where the blond haired, blue-eyed director talked to us about the museum and its efforts. Similar to other guest presenters, he talked about the need to recapture Polish Jewish history. And—the question was inevitably asked—are you Jewish? As with the Kazamierz tour guide, the assistant director of the JCC, and the Director of Education in Auschwitz, he was not Jewish. On our way to Berlin for the second half of the seminar, seminar participants talked about how vibrant Jewish culture seemed to be in Krakow and how this passion and interest for Jewish culture seemed to be driven by younger non-Jews. One of the reasons suggested for this situation, suggested by a seminar participant, is that there simply are not enough Jews in Poland to lead this revival. OĞwiĊcim has no resident Jews, and there are only 200 Jews registered with the remaining synagogues in Krakow, although we were often

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reminded that there are many “unregistered” Jews in Krakow—those Jews who are not affiliated with a synagogue. During July 2012, I spent time in Warsaw conducting further research. It is worth noting that Warsaw was virtually destroyed in World War II. Hitler literally bombed the city flat in retribution for the Polish underground resistance. Thus, there are few remaining authentic buildings in the city. I explored to what extent Jewish history and culture is present in Warsaw. There are a multitude of sites to visit—the monument to the Warsaw Ghetto uprising (which is also the site of the new Museum of the History of Polish Jews); the site of Miáa 18 commemorating the final resting place of the Jewish ghetto resistance; the newly installed “Footbridge of Memory” commemorating the bridge between the Small Ghetto and the Large Ghetto. Polish Jewish history, especially that associated with World War II, is visibly memorialized in Warsaw. Throughout the city are red bricks that delineate the walls of the Warsaw Ghetto as well as plaques indicating where the current spot would have been in the Ghetto. Not many buildings were left standing after the Nazis bombed Warsaw, but you can still see a small building here and there inside the markings of what were the Warsaw Ghetto boundaries. Additionally, throughout the city are new stone markers indicating specific events that happened within the ghetto walls. Finally, the new Museum of the History of Polish Jews is going to be a state-of-the-art site that commemorates Polish Jewish history from its beginnings in 1085. There is no question that Polish Jewish history is as present in Warsaw as it is in Krakow. There are two things that illustrate the extent to which Jewish life and culture are currently present. One of the sites noted in the Warsaw pocket guide is the NoĪyk Synagogue, and it is important for two reasons. First, it is the only synagogue to survive the bombing of Warsaw; second, it is still used as a synagogue. Armed with a map and a description of its location near another memorial to Warsaw’s Jews, I found the memorial but could not find the synagogue. Glancing up at a building, I saw that it had a Star of David on it and a sign indicating to go around the side of the building. I walked to the side of the building, thinking that I had found the synagogue, and discovered the Jewish theatre. I asked the guard at the entrance the location of the synagogue and he gave me directions that brought me to the front of a cement brick building on which appeared signs in Polish and Hebrew. I thought I had simply found another historical marker and then noticed a sign for kosher falafel on an outdoor kitchen to my left. As I headed towards the kitchen/dining tent—in which there were no customers at 11:45 a.m.—I noticed a door open to a basement office in the building. It was the entrance to a Jewish store

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selling a variety of goods from gefilte fish to tefillin and mezuzahs. There was one customer in the store when I walked in; after greeting the proprietor and walking around the small store area I asked him where I might find the synagogue. It turns out that the cement building alongside of which I had just walked was the entrance to the synagogue. While touring the synagogue five other people also came to tour it. So: there are obviously businesses that cater to a Jewish population—the store and the kosher falafel kitchen—and the synagogue is still being used. The second illustration of Jewish life in Warsaw was the first walk to commemorate the beginning of the “liquidation” of the Warsaw Ghetto residents. Advertised on-line, I found my way to a memorial known as Umschlagplatz that commemorated the victims of the Warsaw Ghetto. When I arrived on site, there were five different news trucks as well as radio commentators present. The mayor of Warsaw was in attendance, as were two representatives of the Catholic Church and the Vice President of Jewish Education for Israel (along with his body guards), and between 400 and 500 people. After several short speeches, we started walking through the city to the orphanage named after the doctor who chose to stay in the Ghetto with the children for whom he cared. The participants were diverse, including men wearing yarmulkes and families pushing baby carriages, Caucasians and non-Caucasians, young and old. As I walked through the crowd I could hear people speaking Polish, Hebrew and English. Police escorted the marchers and managed traffic as we walked through major intersections. Each person was given a ribbon to hold or wear—some ribbons had the names of children from the ghetto who had died, while others held the names of the marcher’s family and friends who had died. While walking I came upon one of the staff members from the Taube Foundation Genealogy Centre with whom I had spoken the previous year. We talked about the march as well as the museum of Jewish history to be opened in 2013. His somber mood matched the occasion, yet he could not contain his excitement for Warsaw’s thriving and growing Jewish community, which was responsible for the march and had contributed to the museum funding. When we reached the orphanage, there were three rows of strings stretched across the iron gates in front of the building. As speeches were made, each marcher tied his or her ribbon to one of the strings. When you stepped away from the gates it looked like a rainbow of colour emblazoned against the gates. Polish Jewish history and Polish Jewish culture are visibly present in both the capital city of Warsaw and the tourist city of Krakow. Both Jewish and non-Jewish Poles are enthusiastic about the growing role of the Jewish community in Poland. With governmental and non-governmental

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organizations in the country actively supporting the development of Jewish life and Jewish culture as well as an active Jewish community, my original question becomes even more relevant and complex: Why does accepting Jewish ancestry require one to “come out”? What does one “do” with this new identity? What type of identity work is needed to manage this process? And, lastly, how does identity work impact individuals’ actions? Underlying these questions is another: What factors cause an identity to become problematic for an individual?

Who are we? Sociological research examines identity from a variety of perspectives —the micro, interactional level, to the more macro, social movements perspective. Two questions raised by identity research are, how do we define ourselves? and how does our identity affect our actions and interactions? To answer these two questions, we first highlight current discussions of self, social, and collective identity. We then present a new, integrative theory of identity that explains the connection between identity and social action as well as answering why some people would consider identifying as being Jewish a form of “coming out.” Social psychological research on self identity has explored the factors that affect how we define ourselves, including focusing on the self concept, the looking-glass self, social cognition or self-efficacy (Kuhn and McPartland 1954; Cooley 1964; Howard 1995; Gecas and Burke 1995). The self concept represents how we might define ourselves at a particular point in time while the looking-glass self perspective maintains that our actions are determined by the social standards of others, to which we subscribe. Discussions of social cognition highlight the social definition of how we categorize, and then act upon, situations in which we find ourselves, and self-efficacy research focuses on aspects of how well we manage our interactions. It is clear that the individual defines, and is defined by, social criteria in creating a self identity. Individuals also develop social identities which are shared with others and that transcend any individual or self identity. McCall and Simmons (1966) and Stryker (1980) discuss this in terms of role identities reflecting the position we hold when interacting with others, while Hogg and Abrams (1988) focus on how the groups with which we are affiliated provide specific social identities. Goffman (1954) talks about the masks we wear, representing specific positions we hold relative to others, and how these masks then dictate particular scripts (ways of interacting) as required of us.

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It is worth noting that both self and social identity reflect sets of identities we hold. In terms of self identity, we can describe ourselves by referencing our physical appearance or how we are feeling at the moment. Similarly, we can occupy one particular role—such as teacher—and then realize that one of our students is the child of a high school drinking buddy, thus potentially changing our relationship to (or position in respect to) the student. Furthermore, realizing that the self and social identities are not necessarily independent of one another, researchers have explained how individuals manage these different sets of identities (self and social). Stryker’s identity theory argues that individuals have “a hierarchical ordering of identities, differentiated on the basis of salience (the probability of activating a given identity in a situation) and commitment (the number and affective strength of ties to others as a result of having a particular role-identity)” (Gecas and Burke 1995). Burke and colleagues (1980; Burke and Reitzes 1981; Burke and Stets 2009) developed a “cybernetic control model” to examine what activates any particular identity from within the identity hierarchy and its impact on individuals’ behaviour. The final type of identity discussed in the sociological literature centres on the idea of collective identity. Social movement and critical theorists discuss collective identity as reflecting the broader social, ethnic, religious, or political identities that individuals assume, which transcend local groups (social identities) and conflicts. Critical race theorists have examined the way in which simply identifying as African-American (a collective identity), and understanding what it means in terms of social expectations, impacts how well students do on standardized tests. Similarly, the idea of a “model minority” highlights the pressure that nonCaucasians feel in school and in the workplace to represent their race or ethnicity. For social movement theorists, collective identity became an alluring answer to the free-rider problem (Olson 1965), which raises the question of why people would join a collective movement when their individual effort may go unnoticed while they would still receive benefits through inaction. Collective identity serves as a mechanism for mobilizing resources and adherents for a movement, either by fostering loyalty and a sense of responsibility among people with a shared collective identity, or by providing a means of self-satisfaction for those who join the movement (Polletta and Jasper 2001). Whether out of a sense of responsibility to the group (social solidarity) or individual self-interest (rationality), collective identity serves as a common bond between individuals that may spur them to action—even if they have no other known points of commonality. For example, after the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, all branches of

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the American military saw a significant increase in the number of new enlistments, many of whom stated that they felt they had to do something “as an American” in the face of terrorism striking the country. And, as with self and social identity, individuals can hold a set of collective identities to which they are bound. To summarize, “who we are” amounts to three different types of identities—self, social, and collective—that are created and managed with relatively little effort or even awareness. The broader question that stimulated this project asks what factors shape whether identity becomes problematic for an individual—such as those Poles over thirty who must decide whether to “come out” as being Jewish. Previous explanations concerning problematic identities include discussions of role conflict where there is a contradiction between the expectations of two different roles we hold. Discussing impression management, Goffman argues that we need to ensure that people believe us in the roles we occupy—this allows interactions to proceed easily; and Hochschild (1983), in her illustration of airline attendants, writes about emotion management, where we manage our reaction to others so as to fulfil the requirements of our role. Further, cognitive dissonance theory explains that we may change our beliefs and values to minimize conflict associated with identities we hold. All these explanations assume that individuals engage in actions to minimize conflict between sets of social expectations. We argue, on the other hand, that people engage in actions to actively reconcile different identity points held in an identity matrix by changing their ranking or importance to one another. This is a distinctly different social process than reducing conflict between competing sets of social expectations.

Theorizing identity work To understand why non-Jewish Poles must make a conscious decision as to whether they will even determine if they have Jewish heritage, we first present a key set of definitions and arguments concerning interactional synchronicity. We then discuss the conditions leading to identity work and the implications of engaging in identity work. We argue that each person has an identity matrix in which there are three sets of identity—self, group, and collective—with each set containing a number of specific identity points (see figure 4-1). Each point represents an identity that defines the individual within a particular interaction. Self identity has the highest number of specific identity points, group identity has the next highest number of specific identity points, and there are fewer such specific identity points for collective identity. Each specific identity

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point is activated by particular situations, contexts, and the people with whom we interact. Additionally, the specific identity points in each set are ranked in order of priority. For example, our specific identity point of being someone’s child may be ranked much higher when we are younger than when we are in middle age. And if our parents become disabled and we become their care provider, that specific identity point’s ranking will change again.

Figure 4-1: Identity Matrix showing Self, Group, and Collective Identity Points

Based on Stryker’s (1980) and Goffman’s (1959) discussion of roles, we define self identity as the characteristics and position we hold relative to a specific interactional other. Self identity is typically relational, but always individual (“I am Anne’s student,” NOT “I am a student in Anne’s sociological theory course”). There may also be limited instances in which we activate a self identity based not on our relations with another person, but with an object (“I am the owner of this house”). Self identity excludes,

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though may be influenced by, characteristics of groups to which we belong or wish to belong. Thus, when we define ourselves we do so by identifying both our position relative to a specific other or object, and by assessing our ability to occupy the position. This provides both a quantitative element (“I am Ryan’s son” or “I am Anne’s teacher”) along with a qualitative evaluation of that element (“I am a good son” or “I am a boring teacher”). We define group identity as those characteristics of groups to which we are affiliated, or with which we seek to affiliate, that we use to define ourselves. Our group identity also shapes our interactions with group members—either in-group or out-group members. We activate a group identity when we act as a representative or aspiring member of a group. Unlike self identity, which is heavily dependent on characteristics of specific individuals in specific interactions, group identity depends on the characteristics of the group(s) with which we are affiliated. When we activate our group identity and act as a representative of the group we are, in essence, acting as the generalized other (Mead 1934). For example, while Eisenberg is not an actively religious Jew there are times when she is aware of the effect on her interactions of adopting a Jewish identity. Thus, when living in Tennessee for nine years she discovered that it was best to not identify as being Jewish when first meeting people. Doing so usually resulted in creating awkward situations where it was clear that others did not feel comfortable because they attributed a group identity to her that had negative connotations and thus affected the ensuing interactions. Finally, we define collective identity as a particular point of view associated with broader social, political, and cultural issues. An important aspect of collective identity is that it transcends disparate groups. Individuals who might not ordinarily interact with one another will do so based on a shared set of meanings associated with the collective identity. Two disparate illustrations of this is that after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 and during the 2012 summer Olympic games in England, being “American” had a similar meaning for persons of different status, whether you were a Southerner or a “Yankee,” a janitor or chief executive officer of a financial institution. It is worth noting that by including the idea of collective identity into the types of identity we must manage, the identity matrix directly connects the micro-interactional level of social life with the broader, macro level of society defined through mechanisms such as collective memory. In summary, individuals have available a matrix of identities that is developed throughout the lifecourse. During primary socialization we develop specific points of self identity as well as of group identity

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associated with our family and friends. As we begin to encounter new situations, such as in secondary education and the work place, in addition to the other two types of identity we also gain specific collective identity points. Each situation provides indications of the specific identity point to be activated, or taken on, by individuals.These indications include persons with whom they are interacting, the physical environment, the resources available for the interaction, and the time in which the interaction occurs. We call this the interactional space. Thus, just as Goffman (1959) describes how we put on a mask to engage the front stage, we argue that as the individual steps into an interactional space he or she activates a specific identity point—self, group, or collective—and then engages others. When the interaction is synchronized, the individual has activated an appropriate identity for the specific interactional space and is performing according to situational expectations. Figure 2 presents a simplified identity matrix on the left with possible identity points and the interactional space to the right containing interactional others. This illustrates synchronicity because the individual has activated specific identity points that match the situation with the interactional other. The synchronized interaction allows the interaction to proceed to a conclusion given the situation in which the actors find themselves.

Figure 4-2: Synchronicity

We argue that for the majority of time an individual’s identity matrix is stable, such that he or she successfully manages interactions by synchronizing a specific identity point with the interactional space. Specifically, stability requires two conditions—first, that a specific

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identity point activated by the individual is accepted both by him- or herself as well as by others with whom the individual interacts, and, second, that there are no conflicts or contradictions between potential identity points that can be activated. The latter condition refers to the ability of the individual to define him- or herself, in a manner acceptable to the interactional other, without having to calculate which specific identity point to assume. However, an identity matrix becomes unstable if one of three conditions exists—first, if conflicts or contradictions arise between potential identity points; second, if the identity point activated is incorrect (it is not synchronous with the interactional space); or, third, if there is a potential new specific identity point that conflicts with our existing sets of points. We recognize that our identity matrix is unstable when experiencing the discomfort associated with cognitive dissonance. More to the point, when we enter an interactional space we immediately take on a specific identity point. We become aware of a problem when the others interacting with us give us indications, such as moving away from us, and abruptly ending the interaction, or causing embarrassment to us. Asynchronicity occurs when we are unable to accurately select identity points for interactions. Figure 4-3 presents the simplified identity matrix on the left and the interactional space on the right. The arrows indicate that the individual did not select identity points corresponding to interactional others.

Figure 4-3: Asynchronicity occurs when there is a mismatch between an activated identity point and the appropriate identity for a given interaction.

The only way to stabilize the identity matrix and to regain synchronous interactions is to engage in identity work. This requires individuals to actively manage their identity matrix by reassigning the ranking or priority

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of different identity points, ensuring that subsequently they correctly select an identity point when they engage interactional others. Until the identity matrix is stabilized our interactions are difficult to manage and may result in emotional outbursts, depression, and isolation. Thus, we are highly motivated to minimize the cognitive dissonance. Techniques to do so include rejecting the potential new identity point, re-ranking the existing specific identity points to minimize the degree to which more than one can be activated in any interactional space, accepting the new identity point, and integrating it into the existing matrix.

“Being Jewish” The stimulus for this theory and this paper was the puzzle concerning the contradiction between a country that is embracing its Jewish history and its Jewish community, and the seeming fear or hesitancy some Poles may experience in learning they might be Jewish. In Poland today, it is acceptable to “do” Jewish life by actively recreating its culture, creating a more complete (less “bad”) history of Polish Jewish life, and encouraging the study of Jewish culture. For example, the non-Jewish director of the Auschwitz Jewish Centre is deeply committed to educating Poles about Jewish history and culture, and the non-Jewish assistant director of the JCC is responsible for scheduling Hebrew classes for all levels to attend as part of promoting Jewish life. Both individuals are under the age of thirty and the majority of their lives have been in a democratic and pluralistic Poland where communism is a faded memory. They are the recipients of a more accurate history of Poland and its role in World War II and they have always known a country that encourages diversity. Thus, they have self, group, and collective identity points that do not conflict with one another. We predict that the Pole with an identity matrix without contradictory identity points to “being Jewish,” such as the director of the Auschwitz Jewish Centre and the assistant director of the JCC, is more likely than not to explore his or her potential Jewish heritage. This prediction is supported anecdotally by Eisenberg’s experiences in both Krakow and Warsaw. Walking in Kazimierz throughout the Jewish Cultural Festival, the majority of the men wearing yarmulkes and women with children whose heads were covered (both signs of religiously observant Jews) were younger. Of the hundreds of people that seminar members saw during those five days of the festival, there were very few older or old observant Jews. The same demographics were obvious one year later during the commemorative walk through the streets of Warsaw. The majority of observant men and women were younger, with only a handful of older

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observant Jews. Since Eisenberg did not interview any observant Jews in either location, there is no way to know whether they were raised Jewish or were new to Judaism. However, one conclusion to draw from the anecdotal data is that younger observant Jewish Poles are comfortable participating in public events. Another way to explain this is that their self, group, and collective identity sets are synchronous. Let us return to the dilemma faced by non-Jewish Poles, older than thirty, who discover the artifact left by a deceased relative—a small prayer book, a yarmulke, a note written in Hebrew. They have been raised in a country in which anti-Semitism had a deep hold and, in all likelihood, they were raised Catholic. They have synchronous sets of identity points in which “being” Jewish was publicly discouraged. In discovering that they may have Jewish ancestry they have uncovered a potential new group identity point. Their identity matrix already contains identity points related to interactional spaces where Jews are seen as the other. These individuals will experience cognitive dissonance as they decide whether to pursue this information any further. We predict that the only way such discomfort can be ameliorated for Poles over the age of thirty will be to disregard this information. This could also explain why so few older observant Jewish Poles were visible in either the Jewish Cultural Festival or the commemorative march. Jewish Poles older than thirty-five, as for Eisenberg while she was living in Tennessee in the 1980s and 1990s, either know about or have experienced the problems created by publicly adopting a Jewish identity. They will be less likely to participate in public events than their younger peers.

Closing By the age of twenty, we already have a fully formed identity matrix containing a large set of self identity points, a slightly smaller set of group identity points, and much smaller set of collective identity points. A stable identity matrix represents synchronicity that is disrupted in one of three ways, including discovery of new potential group and collective identity points. When asynchronicity occurs individuals will work to reduce the internal discomfort and interactional difficulties experienced by engaging in identity work. We argue above that Poles who are older than thirty have an identity matrix defined by anti-Semitism and communism and are more likely to have identity points that will conflict with, or contradict, accepting a newly discovered potential Jewish identity point. Eisenberg’s anecdotal, autoethnographic data seem to support this prediction. The addition, and activation, of new identity points provides new reasons and

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new opportunities for social interaction. Poles who suddenly discover possible Jewish ancestry are faced with a choice: explore that ancestry and embrace it as part of their identity, or forego the process entirely. The former results in changes to their identity matrix dependent on the extent to which they adopt new identity points. The latter will leave the matrix largely unchanged. Poles who incorporate their newly-found Jewish identity into their existing matrix may suddenly find themselves treated differently by those around them. This necessarily changes the nature of social relations for that person, possibly expanding, contracting, or changing their social network—for example, if the person started attending synagogue instead of church (or no services at all). This discussion represents the early stages of a new theoretical development in identity and was stimulated by the response to a polite question asked by the first author while staff workers helped to explore her own Polish Jewish heritage. While Polish Jews serve as a specific case study illustrating our theory of synchronicity, examples of similar identity issues can be found in Muslim American’s willingness to “come out” as being Muslim; Arab-Israeli identity as being either Arab or Israeli; and Indian identity issues in Mexico. Further theoretical development will include creating, similar to status characteristics and expectation states theories, mathematical representations of the identity matrix, synchronicity and asynchronicity, and identity work so as to predict when people might engage in identity work. Finally, we look forward to using larger data sets to explore the accuracy of the theory.

References Anderson, Benedict. 1991. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism. New York: Verso. Berger, Joseph, Thomas L. Connor, and M. Hamit Fisek. 1974. Expectation States Theory: A Theoretical Research Program. Cambridge, MA: Winthrop. Biskupski, Mieczysáaw B. 2000. The History of Poland. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. Brenner, Michael. 2010. A Short History of the Jews. Translated by Jeremiah Riemer. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Burke, Peter J. 1980. “The Self: Measurement Implications from a Symbolic Interactionist Perspective”. Social Psychology Quarterly 52: 159–169. Burke, Peter J., and Donald C. Reitzes. 1981. “The Link Between Identity and Role Performance”. Social Psychology Quarterly 44, no. 2: 83–92.

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Burke, Peter J., and Jan E. Stets. 2009. Identity Theory. New York: Oxford University Press. Cubitt, Geoffrey. 2007. History and Memory. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Davies, Norman. 1984. Heart of Europe: A Short History of Poland. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Durkheim, Emile. 1979. Suicide: A Study in Sociology. Translated by John A. Spaulding and George Simpson. New York: Free Press. —. 1982. The Rules of the Sociological Method and Selected Texts on Sociology and its Method. Translated by W. D. Halls. New York: Free Press. Gecas, Viktor, and Peter J. Burke. 1995. “Self and Identity”. In Sociological Perspectives on Social Psychology, edited by Karen S. Cook, Gary Alan Fine, and James S. House, 41–67. Boston, MA: Allyn and Bacon. Goffman, Erving. 1959. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Doubleday. Halbwachs, Maurice. 1992. On Collective Memory. Edited, translated, and with an introduction by Lewis A. Coser. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Hochschild, Arlie. 1983. The Managed Heart: Commercialization of Human Feeling. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Hogg, Michael A. 2006. “Social Identity Theory”. In Contemporary Social Psychological Theories, edited by Peter. J. Burke, 111–136. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press. Hogg, Michael A., and Dominic Abrams. 1988. Social Identifications: A Social Psychology of Intergroup Relations and Group Processes. London and New York: Routledge. Johnson, Lonnie R. 1996. Central Europe: Enemies, Neighbors, Friends. New York: Oxford University Press. Kuhn, Manford H., and Thomas S. McPartland. 1954. “An Empirical Investigation of Self-Attitudes”. American Sociological Review 19, no. 1: 68–76. MacMillan, Margaret. 2008. Dangerous Games: The Uses and Abuses of History. New York: The Modern Library. McCall, George J., and J. L. Simmons. 1966. Identities and Interactions. New York: Free Press. Mead, George Herbert. 1934. Mind, Self, and Society. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Olson, Mancur. 1965. The Logic of Collective Action: Public Goods and the Theory of Groups. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

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Polletta, Francesca, and James M. Jasper. 2001. “Collective Identity and Social Movements”. Annual Review of Sociology 27: 283–305. Sanford, George. 2003. Historical Dictionary of Poland, 2nd edition. Oxford: The Scarecrow Press. Stryker, Sheldon. 1980. Symbolic Interactionism: A Social Structural Version. Menlo Park, CA: Benjamin Cummings. Weinryb, Bernard D. 1973. The Jews of Poland: A Social and Economic History of the Jewish Community in Poland from 1100 to 1800. Philadelphia, PA: The Jewish Publication Society of America.

PART II CASE STUDIES FROM METROPOLITAN CONTEXTS

CHAPTER FIVE TERRITORIALIZED EVERYDAYNESS BETWEEN PROXEMICS1 AND DIASTEMICS2: SPACE-TIME RHYTHMS IN A CONTEXT OF ACCELERATION ALICIA LINDÓN

1

“Proxemics is a subcategory of the study of nonverbal communication along with haptics (touch), kinesics (body movement), vocalics (paralanguage), and chronemics (structure of time)” (Hall 1966). Edward T. Hall developed the theory of proxemics by arguing that human perceptions of space, although derived from sensory apparatus that all humans share, are molded and patterned by culture. Hall examines how humans interact with each other and perceive things at different distances, a field he calls proxemics. 2 The term “diastema” or “diastemia” derives from linguistics and literary theory. It has been deployed in theology in connection to the relationship between the created being, space, and movement. It has also been used by the baroque arts in addressing questions such as musical notation. In this text, the word is used as in contemporary social theory. To that end, let us remember the words of certain notable philosophers and sociologists: on the one hand, Deleuze presents two conflicting readings of the word: “only that which resembles differs and only differences can resemble each other: one invites us to think difference from the standpoint of a previous similitude or identity; whereas the other invites us to think similitude and even identity as a product of a deep disparity. The first defines the world of copies or representations … the second defines the world of simulacra” (Deleuze 1990, 261). In this sense, Jesús Ibáñez notes that “difference” is at once spacing and timing. Spacing relates to difference in terms of discernment, distancing, withdrawal, separation, diastema. Timing relates to terms such as discern, deviate, withhold, reserve (Ibáñez 2003, 165). Our reference to diastemia includes both its temporal and spatial dimension. On the other hand, as Isaac Joseph points out: “the propensity of microsociology [is to] analyze social relations according to the distance as diastema [social, affective, emotional]” (Joseph 1988, 19).

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Abstract Acceleration is revisited here in spatio-temporal and bodily terms from the perspective of the subject in his everyday life. Space would be considered as fragments of the subjects’ space-time in their everydayness. We integrate the body into this, understood as the first controllable and experiential space for any subject. This paper addresses certain strategies developed by social subjects who are completely immersed in acceleration: these are middle-class urban subjects, with high spatial mobility. These subjects create strategies to adapt to acceleration, while other times they create resistance strategies, and in yet other cases they choose hybrid strategies which include both adaptation and resistance. These everyday strategies of a spatial nature sometimes tend toward two apparently opposite poles of the spatial experience and embodiment. On the one hand, they strive to build everyday lives immersed in different forms of bodily and emotional association. On the other, they aspire to everyday lives based on bodily and emotional distance, through adopting postures of remoteness and isolation. Thus, we first address some everyday proxemic strategies. The second portion addresses strategies of remoteness and isolation. In close, some final thoughts are presented in regard to the inconclusive and fanciful nature of both types of acceleration and social rhythm handling strategies, as well as the fragmentation of life they bring with them. Keywords: Space-Time Rhythms; Bodily; Proxemic Strategies; Diastemic Strategies

Introduction Acceleration in contemporary societies is an ineludible phenomenon, widespread since the final two decades of the twentieth century. To a great extent, acceleration received its most important impulse from the technological developments of the twentieth century, and its raison d’être has resided in the current capitalist accumulation process (Harvey 1998). It has, however, proceeded beyond technology and the economy, and has established itself as a nodal point in the social construction of our current world. Given this, Italo Calvino has pointed out, “The dimension of time has been shattered, we cannot live or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along its own trajectory and immediately disappears” (1981, 8).

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Proof of acceleration’s central social role is the growing importance of the so-called slow movement or movement in praise of slowness, to use Carl Honoré’s terminology (Honoré 2004; Sansot 1998). The movements in defense of slow have doubtless emerged as a form of resistance in face of the excessive force acquired by acceleration, without effectively weakening it. Perhaps due to the linking of acceleration with globalization and given the worldwide scale that characterizes it, acceleration is often analyzed as a social phenomenon in a broad sense, almost as something structural. In this chapter, unlike the approaches mentioned above, acceleration and its associated social rhythms are analyzed, in keeping with Calvino’s words, from the perspective of subjects in their everyday life environment, that is, from the life of people immersed in acceleration itself. Like any perspective focused on the subject in everyday life, this entails an analytical interest in action and practices, sense and meanings. However, in this case those dimensions of everyday life are considered together with the embodiment/emotionality of the subject and his spacetemporality. Although every subject has a body and each body experiences emotions, it is often the case that the analyses of the subject—even in his everyday world—give greatest priority to action or the sense and meanings of action, focusing less on embodiment/emotions and their spatial aspects. The subject’s spatiality necessarily makes him an inhabitant of different places in specific temporalities. Space is relevant to the subject because it is one of the conditions of life. To paraphrase the classic text of Eric Dardel (1990), it is worth recalling that we can be in one place or another, we can move from one place to another; but we will always be somewhere. Borrowing Perla Serfaty-Garzón’s words, “From the very moment of his birth, a man relates with himself and with the natural and social environment. To exist, to be, means, from the first moment, to be there, placed, localized but also inserted in a community at a given time” (Serfaty-Garzón 2003, 2).3 Being and resting in places happens in specific periods of time. Neither the place nor the time we are in is neutral in regard to our actions and to our being in the world. Through resting in those places, we weave a relationship with them, we load them with meanings, memory, and also fantasies. Thus we give density to our body’s places and to the encounters

3

Original version: “L’homme vient au monde et, dès ce premier instant, est en relation avec lui-même et aven son environnement naturel et social. Exister, être, signifie donc emblée être là, situé, localisé, mais aussi inséré dans une communauté à un temps donné.”

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with others which happen there and for which the places are not mere loci (Lussault 2007; Lussault and Stock 2010). Acceleration is essentially a temporal phenomenon in nature. But given the inseparable nature of time and space, this acceleration has spatial consequences; it carries space along with it. Thus authors such as David Harvey (1989) and Anthony Giddens (1990; 1991) have stated that a consequence of the contemporary acceleration is space-time compression. Acceleration not only implies speed, it also compresses space. Therefore what once was distant becomes closer and, as Giddens (1990; 1991) had warned, places lose local anchorage but gain in distant relationships. While these are unavoidable macro social phenomena, each subject experiences them in different ways not yet fully known. In the same manner, it is necessary to emphasize that although acceleration has established itself socially in the world, not all social beings are immersed in it in the same manner. Once again, it should be emphasized that the macro social aspect emerges and reconfigures itself in particular ways in the micro social (Knorr-Cetina and Cicourel 1981). The way acceleration is experienced is related, at least, to the way of life, the person’s activities, the places he inhabits, the positions he occupies within the social structure, and his biographical trajectories. From the subject’s perspective, acceleration becomes part of everyday life. It is not a structural phenomenon about which he is merely informed, but rather one that enters into his life. Everyday life acquires greater speed, daily events and routines occur in shorter time cycles and the subject is compelled to fill his daily time with a greater number of activities, because of the acceptance of the fantasy that if time goes by in an accelerated manner, the performance of more activities guarantees a better usage of it by people (Juan 2000). Thus, daily saturation with more and more activities produces everyday rhythms that challenge increasingly fatigued subjects. Faced with this, some subjects spontaneously resort to everyday spatiality management strategies, which consist of many additional fantasies that seek to mitigate acceleration. It is relevant that the anonymous subject responds to the uncontrollable time with the manipulation of his space. These are spontaneous responses based on practical knowledge in which space and time are indissoluble, even though scientific knowledge has frequently separated them. Given all of the above, subjects who are immersed in acceleration and contemporary social rhythms are subjects-bodies who inhabit different places in different ways. Thus, acceleration—with its temporal nature—is revisited here in spatio-temporal and bodily terms from the perspective of the subject in his everyday life. In this chapter, therefore, we integrate the

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subjects’ lived-space, understood as the fundamental coordinates from which they construct themselves and reconstruct their social relationships. Through this perspective, more than space in the usual sense (extension, room, region, etc.), space would be considered as fragments of the subjects’ space-time in their everydayness: lived space in lived time (Di Méo 2000). We integrate the body into this, understood as the first controllable and experiential space for any subject. In this context, this paper addresses certain strategies developed by some social subjects who are completely immersed in acceleration. These are middle-class urban subjects, with high spatial mobility, not only of the everyday intra-urban type, but also directed to distant places. Occasionally, these subjects spontaneously create strategies to adapt to acceleration, other times they create resistance strategies. In other cases they choose hybrid strategies which include both adaptation and resistance. These everyday strategies of spatial nature sometimes tend toward two apparently opposite poles of the spatial experience and embodiment. On the one hand, they strive to build everyday lives immersed in different forms of bodily and emotional association. On the other, they aspire to everyday lives based on bodily and emotional distance, through adopting postures of remoteness and isolation. Ultimately every approach also implies a distancing and, thus, the differentiation of these strategies is exclusively analytical. Thus, we first address some everyday proxemic strategies—recovering Edward Hall’s (1966) classic concept—with some variants in regard to proxemic scales. The second portion addresses strategies of remoteness and isolation. At the end, some final thoughts are presented in regard to the inconclusive and fanciful nature of both types of acceleration and social rhythm handling strategies, as well as the fragmentation of life they bring with them.

Bodily and emotional proxemic strategies It is a recognized fact that current acceleration brings closer (in a certain way) subjects who live at a distance from one another. This is a multidimensional matter: it is social, spatial, and bodily as far as we are concerned here, but it also involves other dimensions. These comings together tend to be brought about in two main ways: one is the growing phenomenon of travel and the other is communication technology which can create virtual communities that include subjects who live in distant places. Thus, acceleration is coupled with space-time compression through the actual meeting of people, and/or communication between them and others in places that are physically distant. Unlike this phenomenon, which

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has been widely analyzed in recent years, this section analyzes the physical coming together—not resulting from travel4—which is experienced by those subjects who, in some fragment of their everyday life, mitigate acceleration through their relationships and their use of proximate, accessible territories (Guérin-Pace 2003-2004). Nearby territories are practiced, travelled across, they become places for meeting up with familiar people, representing safety and thus they are loaded with meaning. In a bodily sense, they are experienced as the places of our body, the places in which a bodily state of alertness does not emerge, but rather one of trust in the already known. These strategies clearly confront the phenomenon of temporal nature, manipulating its spatiality. Thus, when acceleration allows spatial extension and reaching faraway territories, some subjects choose to do that and, at the same time, partially reduce their lived spaces. This represents a direct yearning for bodily and emotional proxemics, unlike technology-mediated approaches, such as virtual communities. This experiential reduction of lived spaces tends to occur on several geographic scales: one is the neighbourhood, another is the home, and yet another could be recognized in the private car. Some subjects reduce their proximity spaces on one or on several of these scales, while others operate strategies on of all these scales simultaneously. In any case, what matters is that these spatial reductions indirectly show the territory of proximity’s spatial range, providing the subject with social and bodily certainties and safety.

Proxemic strategies: On the return to the neighbourhood, to the gated communities One of these strategies, which focuses on bodily and affective proximity, is directly related to the geographic scale of the neighbourhood, and manifests itself as a quest to return to it, either in the strict sense or in broader terms. At the beginning of the modern era, the urban subject found a sense of freedom in the unexpected within the city, on urban diversity, and the anonymity allowed by the big city. In this regard, one can recall the words and analytical keys which have become classics, such as Benjamin’s figure of the flâneur (Delgado 1999; Hiernaux 2006), Isaac Joseph’s passerby (1988), Simmelian social density, the proliferation of encounters with others, the diversity (Giannini 2004). In the current context of acceleration, markedly different perspectives have emerged: some subjects, whose territories have been expanded by the acceleration of 4

Travel is addressed in the final section.

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everyday life, develop strategies to experientially reduce their residential spaces of life. Thus, rather than seeking the metropolis, the spontaneous strategy consists in effectively reducing the metropolis into a micropolis (García Canclini 1997; Lindón 2010): one lives in big cities, but one’s everyday experiences are limited to small neighbourhoods. In some cases strategies of proximity reduction drive the subject to the revalorization of the neighbourhood; particularly those relatively centrally located that have undergone gentrification processes. In other cases, the same strategy appears in the form of suburban gated communities. This practical strategy is related to spatial knowhow (or practical spatial knowledge) anchored in the body. This embodied practical spatial knowledge allows the subject to solve everyday problems such as orienting himself in his journeys, although it also allows addressing more complex issues such as the proxemic strategies considered here. The reduction of everyday spatiality constitutes itself as a strategy that seeks to mitigate the fatigue of acceleration, the lack of feeling identified with the more extensive territories into which everyday life is dispersed or with previously distant othernesses now placed beside us due to space-time compression. It also enables a degree of self-containment in territories that provide safety, as opposed to expanded and threatening environments, which sometimes are only so because of their diversity. On one hand, this strategy implies the desire to live in neighbourhoods that have a strong symbolic content, such as historical city centres or places which have been the scene of important events. In other cases, this is handled as a return to the neighbourhood where one once lived and which, for that reason, includes fragments of a person’s biographical memory (Lindón 2011). On the other hand, the subject seeks to construct a strong emotional bond with the place of residence, conceived as an otherness in which he desires to see himself reflected and in regard to which he feels a sense of belonging. The retreat into gated communities supports the fantasy that safety and protection are to be found among peers who reside nearby (Capron 2006; Giglia 2008). Nevertheless, daily temporal acceleration and frequent spatial mobility are not eliminated. They persist, but are linked to proximate places where spaces experienced through emotional and bodily proximity are created, both with others and with the place which becomes another form of otherness. Closeness with the neighbourhood becomes more intense in these interstices. Each inhabiting subject, depending on their divergent biographical experiences and the practices carried out in each place, in turn demarcates these interstices in different ways. Affective and bodily proximity to the neighbourhood constitutes a form of territoriality, which

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is a reciprocal sense of belonging between the body-subject and place (Raffestin 1982). Territoriality—which is immaterial in a sense—has for the subject its anchor in embodiment: the sense of belonging and well-being sustained by inhabiting the place. The proximity embodied in regard to the neighbourhood environment exceeds the territory and the body itself, being extended to the others who live in the neighbourhood. However, this otherness is diffuse. It is about a proximity to others that can be known or unknown as subjects, although they are nearby, similar, people with whom this form of territoriality is tacitly shared, together with different frequent practices of the place, as well as problems and advantages collectively recognized as such. This proxemic strategy of the return to the neighbourhood includes a range of practice types: one type we can describe as “de-distancing” practices (Entfernung), to express it in a Heideggerian language.5 We might also call these practices of approaching. De-distancing practices are simultaneously social, spatial, and bodily in nature: distancing/ approaching is often motivated by the valuation placed on social life. At the same time, distancing/approaching implies either the insertion or the collapse of a distance, which can be physical or even emotional; and every distance refers to the spatial. Similarly, distancing/approaching is also embodied, since the distance which is interposed or removed possesses a fundamental reference provided by the body itself. One of the most usual forms of dedistancing is that of approaching others to participate in small social groups within which a certain sense of belonging or social bond is felt and where others’ bodily closeness is recognized as familiar. These practices are common on a neighbourhood scale. Everyday life itself is constantly being built through de-distancing, because human beings are essentially mobile, which always brings us closer to something and yet more distant from other phenomena. De-distancing is a bodily phenomenon and is related to embodied cognitive systems. It is bodily because both distancing and approaching are possible through the body’s mobility. But it is also bodily because the directional mechanisms which allow the recognition of distancing and approaching are anchored in the body and in embodied cognitive systems. In addition, nearness or distance become pleasant or rejected, sought or avoided, remembered or forgotten experiences which, prior to being thought about, pondered, or evaluated, are experienced bodily in all of 5

For Heidegger the Dasein, or the being-in-the-world which acts on things, is characterized by the Entfernung (de-distancing or approaching) and by Ausrichtung (directionality).

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these varied ways. Some examples of very common verbal expressions which show that de-distancing is constant in our daily life could be: “I’m very close, I’m almost there,” “we can find that around the corner,” “come over and we will talk about it.” These verbal expressions, among many others that would be as familiar to us as the previous ones, are examples of the integration of de-distancing as a daily pattern that relates to our condition as beings who are mobile in space and also gregarious in nature, and to the bodily appropriation of territory as something common to all people. The return to the neighbourhood, confinement into gated communities, and other strategies for the shrinking of territories of proximity into the neighbourhood scale not only bring both places and persons into proximity, but they also allow the development of dedistancing practices with specific subjects in that environment. All of this draws upon the certainty provided from knowing the other within a familiar and small territory. Perhaps the other side of the phenomenon is the reduction of social heterogeneity through the reduction of the social worlds. Proxemia, the return to the neighbourhood loaded with memory and meanings and confinement into a closed community, with its different forms of de-distancing—all are sought, desired, like a promise of certainties and assurances granted by virtue of inhabiting a known territory, when that which is beyond those territories is perceived as being immersed in acceleration and uncertainty beyond the human scale.

Confinement in the experientially and materially closed micro space of the home Another set of lived space management practices takes the geographic scale of the home space as the focal centre, a space which is smaller and closer than that of the neighbourhood. This strategy can be metaphorically summarized with the expression “the enthronement of the home” (Lindón 2006), that is, an increased importance of the home in the subject’s life in relation to the weight of urban life outside the home. In this perspective, “home” is not synonymous with “house.” The home is the subject’s primary lived space, loaded with meanings, memory, dreams, and fantasies. Thus, it is possible to see two houses which are identical in material terms, but which are different as homes because of the way they are lived in and have been appropriated by the different subjects who inhabit them and, in consequence, by the different meanings and memories which each of them holds. Historical tendencies created in the twentieth century in regard to the expansion of urban life and the heterogeneity of public space would seem

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to indicate the opposite in terms of the centrality of the home. For example, we can recall the analysis by Catherine Bidou (1999)—based on the work of Proust—in which she shows that at the end of the nineteenth century the Parisian bourgeoisie was extending and prolonging social life into the public space of the cafés and boulevards, which were new at the time, when they previously sheltered it in their home’s salons. While other social groups and other public zones in Paris (or many other cities) have never ceased to be inhabited, in the broadest sense of the word, it is important to recall the phenomenon analyzed by Bidou because it was an antecedent to a new way of public space appropriation. Yet the behaviours we analyze, related to the current acceleration of life, seem to contradict that trend. This does not deny that the public spaces of many cities, particularly some areas in large Latin American cities, are spaces that are densely occupied by a diverse spectrum of activities, ranging from their appropriation as a place of residence to their appropriation as a workplace and a marketplace. The partial withdrawal from the public space—and, in consequence, from the collective life of cities—is currently present among certain sectors of the urban middle class. This is not unrelated to the urban trends introduced in the last two decades in several cities around the world, which reproduce, with their own particularities, the American city model. Even though this matter has been reviewed from more or less structural urban points of view, it is still necessary to revisit it from the perspective of subjects in their everyday life, including embodiment and emotions. This partial withdrawal from the public space and the search for protection in the home reminds us that even in times of high spatial mobility, the home continues to represent the fundamental reference point from which the subject builds his relationship with the environment, the neighbourhood, the neighbours (the social group who inhabits the neighbourhood), and the city itself. Barbara Allen has remarked that in this regard “the home is a place of synthesis, the ultimate place, a place for which, even in difficult situations, people mobilize their resources and defenses to safeguard” (2003, 140). This author also suggests that occasionally the sense of home can only be appreciated when faced with its “loss.” Even so, some subjects have also shown that this meaning can be re-created, even living in the streets, as is the case of the homeless. Along the same lines with the previous approach, we can recall Gaston Bachelard’s words, for whom: “Home is our corner of the world. It is our first universe. It is a real cosmos” (Bachelard 1992, 34).The home is the human being’s first world; without a home the human community would disperse. This author also points out that “being protected makes us aware

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of the limits of the shelter” (1992, 35). Thus, the imagination can build walls with elements as insubstantial as shadows and enable us to feel protected between those “walls,” in the same manner in which we can feel unprotected even behind a rampart. Through this condition, which links the home to its inhabitant and his existence, the home also carries a memory with it. It is a complex memory, not only of that which has been experienced there but also of what has been experienced in other homes, which enter into the analogies and permanent contrasts that every subject carries out in all spatial experience. It is through that relationship between the subject and the home that the last not only integrates the current everyday life and memory, but also integrates what the inhabitant projects into a future horizon. All of the above has provided—particularly in the twentieth-century cities—a fundamental reference point from which subjects are projected, from which they deploy their practices into a wider, more heterogeneous, and unexpected social world outside the home. That first world (the home) did not imply a withdrawal into itself. The paradox we currently begin to see is that subjects deploy everyday practices through which they reinforce that internal world in terms of distancing and a growing isolation from the outside, which is often represented as being threatening. Therefore, it would seem that the conception of the house as the first world or the first cosmos is quickly moving toward a more radical re-definition, something like “our world” or “our universe.” The first world is a reference to the fundamental and essential place from which we connect with the world. On the other hand, to define it as “the world” would be an expression of closure in regard to sociality in the broad sense. The withdrawal into the home’s inner space when faced with acceleration mobilizes central aspects of the classical experience of “being at home” (Seamon 1979), although it also radicalizes them. The conception of this inner protective experience in opposition to the usually chaotic, accelerated, and threatening outside world, brings out deeply rooted meanings and emotions such as rootedness, the sense of bodily regeneration, peace, and warmth. Rootedness is a direct relationship between the body and place, which arises from the constant use of place, with the subsequent bodily adaptation to the place and with the load of meaning this entails. Therefore, rootedness to the home is directly related to the strategy of withdrawing into that space. The adaptation of the body to the house provides the subject with certainties in regard to its order and logic; and the certainties are expressed as routines.

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Place appropriation, in this case the home, is another aspect which must be considered in regard to this withdrawal into the home. Appropriation provides the subject with the sense of having a place of his own, with a personal order. Therefore, appropriation is primarily emotional. And the sense of having a place with its own order, in turn, provides security against possible threats. Thus, this withdrawal when faced with the threatening public space allows the body-subject to strengthen his identity. Withdrawal into this appropriated place has a regenerative effect on the subject, both in bodily and emotional terms. In turn, that regeneration also influences comfort and at-easeness provided by his own place, which is characterized by his own order, which also mobilizes the sense of liberty, of being and doing, within the subject. Interwoven with the above is the sense of being in a place which is experienced through warmth. This network of meanings associated with the experience of “being home” integrates other matters: one is the memory of the place and the other is the fantasies which have been built there. Both memory and imagination deepen the warmth, regeneration, at-easeness, appropriation, and rootedness that characterize the experience of being at home. This is why being home not only represents a dense present time but also a tense one, because it is oriented both toward the past which was lived (memory) and to the desired future (imaginaries, fantasies). This characterization of the experience of being and staying at home— an ever-partial self-confinement—does not imply that the home is always experienced in these ways. Without a doubt, other ways of experiencing being home are also frequent in our current cities: for example, as the place where the subject is an object of violence, as a place of insecurity and discomfort, as a place of scarcity, as a place toward which he feels no bonds whatsoever, as the place where one arrives temporarily, until it can be replaced by another, among many different ways of experiencing it. In our line of reasoning, we must consider that this strategy of partial withdrawal into the space of the home happens in relation to two circumstances: on the one hand acceleration and the social rhythms which wear the subject out and fragment him. And, on the other hand, in face of the exponential development of information and communication technologies (ICT), which have permitted several activities, such as work, shopping, education, and leisure to be relocated into that space. Thus, ICT have permitted the substitution of face-to-face communication by remote communication. Therefore, numerous needs which in a previous historical moment required the subject to leave the home and have a face-to-face social interaction can be solved from within the domestic space. This

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concentration of activities within the home, in a time of acceleration, is based on the fact that the house is becoming increasingly connected to other networks. It is a home which is hyperconnected to networks although, paradoxically, at the same time it increasingly is disconnected from sociability, interactions and co-presence with surrounding worlds.6 The first interpretation of this case shows the partial withdrawal into the space of the home as the result of two phenomena: on the one hand, the search for the bodily and emotional comfort and safety of the subject faced with the external acceleration which confronts the human condition; and, on the other, as a result of the new possibilities offered by modern ICT. However, this interpretation masks a relevant aspect: to a large extent, the well-being of the experience of being at home is a consequence of the order which the subject establishes in that place, which is a part of himself, the sense of control over the place, the certainties and routines which he adopts and practices in it and which are also possibly part of a historic tendency of expanding personal spaces. In other words, it would appear that the partial withdrawal into the space of the home becomes a way of maintaining daily rhythms based on repetition, with the consequent certainties that this implies. Hence, through the repetition of these routine rhythms, social reproduction is conducive of the absence of any form of social innovation.7 In other words, this profound and restorative meaning of being at home could provide, on a social level, the means for reinforcing the continuity of a social order that exhausts and fragments the subject.

Social and material isolation through the hermetically closed private car Another everyday strategy of a spatial and bodily nature through which subjects face acceleration is the extension of the home—and its meaning— by means of the private car. The car becomes a caricature of the home. In face of the city’s heterogeneity, hostility, and acceleration, the private car is conceived as a means of response to the need of maximizing the use of time while circulating through a heterogeneous public space, marking distances and establishing boundaries in regard to the others. The private 6

In other cases it has been referred to as “bunker home” (Lindón 2006). It is worth recalling that social reproduction refers to the processes through which societies are projected into the future according to past norms and guidelines that are still current, whereas social production refers to the processes through which societies construct new norms and guidelines that ultimately generate social change or forms of social innovation. 7

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car can even become an extension of the body itself, which is becoming increasingly more isolated from the world outside. Isolation is a technical possibility, although it is also something that the driver desires: “The driver wants to cross the space, he doesn’t want to be distracted by it … Speed itself makes it difficult to pay attention to the landscape” (Sennett 1997, 21). The subject experiences an embodied being-there, which is the car interior. His body constructed the interiority of car, but did not recognize itself as a part of the public space. Sennett argues that “the body moves passively, desensitized in space, to destinations set in a fragmented and discontinuous urban geography” (1994, 18). The body within the car avoids exposure and full immersion into the urban environment, perceived as threatening and also as something other than oneself. Through engineering levels of comfort, the car interior becomes a place for the body which, upon being used and appropriated by the subject, begins being built first as a place for his body and then as a protective inner world for his body (Relph 1976). Thus, the subject driver’s attention is channelled toward the others who share this inner world or toward the different objects which are a part of this space within an enclosure and which maintain a bodily relationship with the subject who is driving, while there is only a situation of relative alertness toward the exterior. The visual field from the inside of the car is the one expressly required for driving: what the driver sees of the urban space is the minimum required in order to circulate. And for those not driving the vehicle, but who are part of that inner world, it often happens that the focus of attention, far from being external to the car, is the inner world and their closeness to one another. Being and resting in the car is not the same as wanting to be in the urban space proper. Being in the car’s interior implies fleetingly observing the circulatory space of the city and doing so from a position which is assumed not to be inside the urban space. This experience of circulating through the public space in an isolated manner and without being a part of it amounts to non-participation in the public space. Thus, the driver becomes a person who sees the public space through a window and does so only partially: he doesn’t see it in a continuous manner nor does he see it closely. Not only does he maintain his distance from that exterior world, but the car itself interposes a hermetic border with the external urban environment. Thus, a bodily and emotional proxemia of that which is shared with the other and with oneself is established only on the inside of the car. And the exterior is reduced to the circulatory network of the city and other vehicles nearby are conceived as objects. Thus, the private car is a means for reducing the urban heterogeneity experienced by the driver

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through the motorist’s control of that inner world, while urban heterogeneity is reduced by the driver’s vision, which objectifies urban life by representing it as groups of things seen fleetingly from a window. The private car reduces urban heterogeneity to a greater extent than that which is possible for mass transportation, as the result of its speed and the vision from within. For the subject circulating in a public transportation vehicle, the exterior is perceived as something which can be observed, without being a part of it, thus reducing the urban space, streets, buildings, to simple images; while a certain unforeseen social heterogeneity can happen in the inner world of the public transport vehicle. However, in the case of the private car not only is the complexity of the urban environment reduced but the possibility of heterogeneity in its interior is eliminated. The construction by the body-subject of an interior world in the private car allows him to develop a process of connection with the place, even a nesting and bonding connection. This interior world is built for closeness, for proximity, and this turns the private car into a personal space, belonging to the driver’s own body. In consequence, this interior world for the body becomes familiar and known, and it doesn’t create problems. Instead, it provides certainties and safety. However, an insurmountable barrier is erected between the car’s inner world and the outer world, and this undermines the integration and participation of the subject in the urban environment. Thus, the self-confinement in the car’s inner world and the limited or nonexistent integration/participation in the urban environment constitute one of the spatial faces of acceleration. Segregating mobility into the inner world of the private car constitutes, at the same time, a form of distancing from the urban environment, conceived as hostile and threatening to the body itself (Sennett 1997, 25). Thus, the public space is reconfigured, emptied of meaning, and becomes a mere circulatory space. This situation has been extensively documented in several empirical investigations, not only in Latin American cities but also in other parts of the world. For example, Pinson and Thomann (2001, 114) demonstrate this for the South of France, arguing that the link between subjects and their spaces of habitation is not deep-rooted. In other words, territorialities tend to be superficial in suburban areas. All this is based on the embodiment and the perception of others and of the environment as threatening.

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Diastemic strategies: Escaping into the distance It is common for subjects who live an accelerated daily life to jointly apply proxemic strategies like the ones we have reviewed together with spatiality management strategies that are clearly distancing. The latter are those that seek bodily, social, and territorial distancing from daily life. These distancings often acquire the form of occasional escapes to faraway places. In these cases, it is common for distancing strategies to be built on the notion of travel and distance. Both distance and the travel are recognized as restorative for the body-subject, fatigued by the accelerated pace of daily life, liberating everyday rhythms and sources of well-being, both bodily and emotional and, thus, serving to restore personal identity. These everyday strategies possibly carry with them a shifting of meaning: The old sense of community as a source of bodily and emotional restoration (Maffesoli 1996) is shifted toward travelling to faraway places. Communal gatherings were once occasions for collective restoration and usually associated with cycles, even natural cycles, while present-day trips to faraway places are occasions for individual restoration, detached from communal cycles. Thus, the trip to faraway places may become, as Scribano expressed in regard to communal events, “a space … which opens a hiatus in that failed wholeness which embodies the permanent reproduction of experiencing life” (2011, 9). Travel has been the object of extensive analysis. Emphasis has been placed on its exploratory character, in the classic sense. Historically, accounts of travel had objectives relating to the reconnaissance of territories that were objects of colonialization (Zusman et al. 2007). Currently, travel has a very different social role. Rather than being associated with political control of new territories, it is being socially constructed as a consumer good for certain kinds of subjects, like the ones who develop the proxemic and diastemic strategies considered here. In this context, traveling often maintains an exploratory character, and provides occasions for personal exploration, like a liberating adventure. The review of the meaning of travel can be conducted from at least two points of view. The first is the one that prevailed in tales of travel to America and its travellers in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, without being exclusive to these cases. This is the perspective that analyzes the route, the journey from one place to the other, the variety and the exotic which arise throughout the journey. These accounts usually point out, from a more or less distant perspective, that which exists in those places as seen from the eyes of the one who is travelling and recounting the journey. The other way of looking at travel focuses on the

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destination. This last one is characterized by a lack of focus on the journey. Currently, the first way of looking at travel seems to be disappearing, while the second one is gaining increasing centrality. The lack of focus on the journey, on the route, is related to at least two matters. The first is technological development, which accelerates the journey, rendering the route invisible or blurring it. This logic is not exclusive to air travel, but also applies to other types of travel, such as high-speed trains or even driving on highways, which permit a greater speed in automotive circulation. Another aspect which changes travelling is that exploring and then controlling large territories is no longer sought. The only aspiration is to bodily and emotionally experience specific places in very limited fragments of time. In these current versions of travel to faraway places, the person knows beforehand exactly where he is headed and how much time the journey will take. Speed makes it possible to reduce travel time and reach the desired faraway place in less time, thus emptying meaning from the journey, while transferring this meaning to the faraway destination place. This emptying of the meaning of the journey is a loss for the present-day travelling subject because, in former times, a high expectation was built in relation to the trip as an adventure and exploration. However, as soon as the trip begins, the traveller is now immersed in acceleration, diluting the sense of reparation, liberation, and adventure which are now transferred to the faraway place itself. The blurring of the journey in order to focus the trip exclusively in the experience of the final destination is a form of spatial fragmentation in the life of the subject. The travelled territory, which was continuous and vast for travellers in the past, has become discontinuous for the travellers in times of acceleration. It has been reduced to a point of departure and a point of arrival. The diastemic strategic associated with travel to faraway territories can materialize in different manners. One of them searches for the exotic, both in regard to the place and to the otherness of the place (Staszak 2008a; 2008b; 2012). Another is the one which aims toward heritage and, thus, sites saturated with biographical significance. A related variant seeks places dominated by unspoiled nature (Bertoncello 2012; 2009). There is a bodily component in all of these modalities of diastemic experience in regard to everyday territories and the search for that which is far away. These escapes to distant places are conceived as promises of bodily and emotional well-being. For example, unspoiled nature is conceived as a source of bodily well-being, constituting a type of

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comprehensive and harmonious topophilia8 (Tuan 1974) which allows the body-subject to feel part of the natural rhythms. The diastemic experience in regard to the everyday territory and the well-being produced by faraway places that have a strong heritage value is often experienced as a kind of bodily immersion into the density of the events which happened there and into historical time itself, within a certain collective memory or in an epic associated with the place. The diastemic strategies from the everyday and from bodily health and well-being are embodied through the senses, and can include not only the sensory appreciation of exotic elements which are specific to the environment, but also the exotic embodiments of the environment. Thus, that which can constitute a strange experience to other subjects such as the immigrant could be a desired outcome to the subject who seeks diastemic experience, the social and spatial discontinuity of the exotic. He desires it precisely for being imagined as a mechanism which interrupts everyday acceleration. These restorative fantasies are almost always built subjectively on the assumption that distance is an obstacle to time acceleration. One of the paradoxes is that the distant places often have some form of acceleration, even though to a subject coming from a distant place it will not be an acceleration due to work or domestic matters—that is, neither of the two most important sources of acceleration for the subject in his everyday life. Nevertheless, even though distance feeds the fantasy of slowing down acceleration, at the same time it increases the fragmentation of the spaces lived by the subject and ends up further fragmenting identities and everyday lives previously fragmented by acceleration itself.

Final remarks The two types of strategies discussed above, the proxemic and the diastemic experience, show the spontaneous management of spatiality as a means for facing acceleration. The paradox is that these strategies lead to a greater fragmentation of the subject’s daily life and to an increase in the socio-spatial discontinuities which mark people’s lives. Thus, faced with the uncontrollable nature of acceleration, the subject manipulates what is close to him but also what is far away. That which is close to him represents certainties and confidence in himself and in others, compared to that which is distant, unknown, and heterogeneous, which is disturbing, and carries uncertainty and new everyday problems. In consequence, he 8

“The word topophilia is a neologism, useful in that it can be defined broadly to include all of the human being’s affective ties with the material environment” (Tuan 1974, 93).

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expands his personal and bodily space, be it his private car, his home, or even the neighbourhood as a space of social, bodily, and emotional proximity. However, given the boredom produced by a micro world entirely homogeneous and controlled, he integrates a category of the distant as an escape. It is precisely that which is distant which has been socially cleansed of uncertainties and disturbances. This is made possible through diastemic escapes to faraway places. All these paths would appear to be the most solid bases for the social reproduction of acceleration. Social reproduction is thus tacitly guaranteed through the reduction of heterogeneity, of the unforeseen, the diverse; or their inclusion, but modeled and controlled, as in the case of distant places. In such a way acceleration generates its own reproduction mechanisms, through bodily and emotional comfort which is a result of routinization, repetition, and control of the unforeseen in the personal and proximate territories or in the faraway cleansed ones. By contrast, participation in the city’s public space is an immersion into heterogeneity, which could be out of control for the subject, which requires innovation and finding solutions to the unforeseen. Therein lies the ferment of social change, which acceleration tends to dilute spatially. All of the above does not eliminate the possibilities of finding ways to resist acceleration. These possibilities are often concealed by routines, certainties, and the bodily and emotional comfort produced by that which is close and familiar. Even so, in proximate locales, the simultaneous presence of apparently homogeneous subjects could generate ways of innovation and resistance. The memory of other places and othernesses, as well as imagination and the capability of to elaborate fantasies about other worlds can often play a relevant role.

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Juan, Salvador. 2000. “Las tensiones espacio-temporales de la vida cotidiana.” In La vida cotidiana y su espacio-temporalidad, edited by Alicia Lindón, 123–146. Barcelona: Anthropos-CRIM-El Colegio Mexiquense. Knorr-Cetina, Karim, and Aron Cicourel. 1981. Advances in Social Theory and Methodology: Toward an Integration of Micro and Macro sociologies. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Lindón, Alicia. 2006. “La casa bunker y la deconstrucción de la ciudad.” Liminar: Estudios Sociales y Humanísticos 4, no. 2: 18–35. —. 2010. “Invirtiendo el punto de vista: Las Geografías Urbanas Holográficas del sujeto habitante.” In Los Giros de la Geografía Humana: Tendencias y horizontes, edited by Alicia Lindón and Daniel Hiernaux, 175–200. Barcelona: Anthropos-UAMI. —. 2011. “Las narrativas de vida espaciales y los espacios de vida.” In Memoria, Espacio y Sociedad, edited by Beatriz Nates and Felipe César Londoño, 13–32. Barcelona: Anthropos. Lussault, Michel. 2007. L’homme spatial: la construction sociale de l’espace humain. Paris: Seuil. Lussault, Michel, and Mathis Stock. 2010. “Doing with Space: Towards a Pragmatics of Space.” Social Geography, no. 5: 11–19. Maffesoli, Michel. 1996. The Time of Tribes: The Decline of Individualism in Mass Society. London: Sage [1988, Le temps des tribus, Paris: Meridiens]. —. 2012. “Posmodernidad afectual y megalópolis.” In Geografías de lo Imaginario, edited by Alicia Lindón and Daniel Hiernaux, 119–130. Barcelona: Anthropos. Pinson, Daniel, and Sandra Thomann. 2001. La maison en ses territoires: De la villa à la ville diffuse. Paris : L’Harmattan. Raffestin, Claude. 1982. “Remarques sur les notions d’espace, de territoire et de territorialité.” Espace et Société, no. 41: 167–171. Relph, Edward. 1976. Place and Placelessness. London: Pion. Sansot, Pierre. 1998. Du bon usage de la lenteur. Paris: Payot. Scribano, Adrián. 2011. “Algunas aproximaciones conceptuales a las experiencias festivas.” Boletín Onteaiken, no. 12: 9–19. Seamon, David. 1979. A Geography of the Lifeworld. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press. Sennett, Richard. 1994. Flesh and Stone: The Body and the City in Western Civilization. New York: Norton & Company. Serfaty-Garzon, Perla. 2003. “Habiter.” In Dictionnaire Critique de l’habitat et du logement, edited by Marion Segaud, Jacques Brun, and Jean-Claude Driant. Paris: Armand Colin.

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Staszak, Jean François. 2008a. “Qu’est-ce que l’exotisme?” Le Globe, no. 148: 3–30. —. 2008b. “Danse exotique, danse érotique. Perspectives géographiques sur la mise en scène du corps de l’Autre (XVIIIe-XXIe siècles).” Annales de géographie 660–661 (May–June): 129–158. —. 2012. “La construcción del imaginario occidental del ‘allá’ y la fabricación de las ‘exótica’: El caso de los koi moko maorís.” In Geografías de lo Imaginario, edited by Alicia Lindón and Daniel Hiernaux, 177–205. Barcelona: Anthropos. Tuan, Yi-Fu. 1974. Topophilia: A Study of Environmental Perception, Attitudes and Values. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. —. 1975. “Place: An Experiential Perspective.” Geographical Review 65, no. 2: 151–165. —. 1977. Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience. Minneapolis. MN: University of Minnesota Press. Zusman, Perla. 2007. “Paisajes de civilización y progreso.” In Viajes y geografías, edited by Perla Zusman et al., 51–66. Buenos Aires: Prometeo.

CHAPTER SIX REGULATION OF BODIES AND THINGS: A STRUCTURATIONIST NOTE ON ROBUST INNOVATION IN REGIONAL CLUSTERS1 ROBERT J. SCHMIDT

Abstract The fact that geographically concentrated organizational clusters produce an observably steady stream of innovations runs counter to current social diagnoses of a globalizing information age. Nonetheless, the special role of regional concentration in the initiation of innovation has not yet been adequately theorized by the social sciences. Even theories of practice or actor-network theory, which try to bring back aspects of material and spatial production, cannot do justice to the phenomenon. The notion of practices as the intersection of presence and absence in classic structuration theory provides a starting point to integrate the figures of enduring association and assemblages found in the work of Latour into a perspective that explicitly accounts for the “systemness” of social life. Within such a theoretical re-interpretation, robust innovation in clusters can be grasped through unique time-space formations. These structures result out of the routinized assembling of bodies and things in and through cluster practices, and continually re-enter the processes of their regulation in a mostly reflexive, sometimes unintended way. Based on this elaborated perspective, an irritating, yet highly prerequisite-ridden experiment conducted in the early phases of a radical innovation in basic research on catalysis is presented to illustrate this theoretical claim.

1

I want to thank Cornelia Thierbach, Arnold Windeler, and the editors for interested and constructive comments on an earlier version of this paper. I am also deeply grateful to Sarah Matthews for her beautiful words and fruitful remarks.

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Keywords: Innovation and Forms of Social Organization; Regional Clusters; Social Theory of Space; Materiality and Bodily Production; Structuration Theory

Geographical concentraction as a source of innovation Social sciences classify contemporary society as one in which space and materiality are replaced by virtual spaces or flows of information patterned by the emergence of various information technologies (e.g., Castells 1996). In society itself, this notion has some interesting counterparts in different areas. The study of regional clusters is one example. Society regulates itself in a way which shows that the material co-presence of bodies and things not only matter, but also provides important competitive advantages (Porter 2000) for nation states, by increasing their potential for innovation. This is what I will refer to as “the cluster phenomenon,” the notion that regionally concentrated associations permanently produce relevant, new products and artifacts. Within this framework, regional clusters become a meso-level phenomenon involving inter-organizational relations. This has relevance for any theory of society. The argument presented here is intended as an exploration of a structurationist frame, which grasps the role played by bodies and things concentrated in timespace for the permanent initiation of innovation in regional clusters.2 As the physicist Richard Feynman puts it: “the thing that doesn’t fit is the thing that’s most interesting.” Clusters therefore have been a topic of interest for social scientists, especially economists, since the early days (see, e.g., Weber 1909; Marshall 1919), with important implications for planning and management. Scientists want to understand what happens inside these curious and complex social associations. Advanced concepts of cluster mechanisms describe them as networks that channel information flows, which are often inscribed in tacit knowledge and only available in co-presence (Cooke 2001). However, all these perspectives consistently neglect the effects of material and spatial concentration. They would appear to believe in the narrative of the “information age” as the defining ingredient of modernity. To understand these effects, it is interesting to note that in the age of information technology, social theory seems to be 2

In our evolutionist conception of innovation (Pronzini et al. 2012), this first step in an ongoing process of radical innovation is what we have termed “variation,” which is not explicated here. For the purpose at hand, we can say that initiation or variation is used to designate the process in which new, deviant events become relevant for a specific social context. Both terms will be used synonymously in the following.

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revitalizing the role of physical things, materiality, and bodily production, as well as spatiality. The most influential theoretical contribution in this vein is the post-modern approach of actor-network theory (henceforth ANT) by Bruno Latour (2005) and other concepts in the field of science and technology studies, as well as the emerging relevance of practice theories. This is noteworthy because it runs counter to current social diagnoses of an information society. These scholars adopt a critical distance to contemporary social science, and remind society of something long considered trivial: that physical and material elements are integral parts of its makeup. This theoretical strain has been sporadically linked to clustering. Of course, it would tell another story, one that (re)discovers the enduring socio-material translations of different elements in the production of every single situation that constitutes the cluster activities. It focuses on bodily reproduction as an inherent part of social practices as well as the aspects of assembling and the reciprocal translation of different agencies in innovation processes inside clusters (Latour 2005). The paper aims to discuss a framework that traces these theoretical narratives in a specific way. Based on the idea of structuration presented in the writings of Anthony Giddens (1979, 1984, 1993), one of the most important practice theorists, I would like to reformulate two conceptual figures set forth within the ANT debate in order to understand the effects of spatial and material concentration without neglecting their regulated, social nature. From the perspective I will develop, clusters are systems in which bodies and things are specifically regulated through repetitive activities of agents, resulting in relatively fixed time-space formations. Systems can be seen as bundles of social practices to which actors refer in order “to go on” in their actions. Practices give social life a serial character and can be described as the enduring intersection of presence and absence. As human beings, actors are emotionally and physically involved in the bodily, material production of and production in presence. The second claim can be elaborated with figures from ANT. Both aspects can only be separated in analytical terms. This is why it is necessary to acknowledge the generative and stabilizing qualities of human and non-human presence. To pursue this argument, a short overview of existing perspectives regarding the cluster-phenomenon is presented in the next section of the paper. It is followed by a discussion of classic structuration theory and ANT in terms of their strengths and weaknesses in grasping material concentration and cluster dynamics. The subsequent sections describe the basic theoretical concepts of an integrative structuration perspective on the cluster phenomenon and, finally, illustrate these ideas based on a series of events prompted by an “irritating” experiment in a basic research cluster.

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Existing perspectives on the cluster phenomenon A leading author of the recent debates defines clusters in economic terms as “geographic concentrations of interconnected companies, specialized suppliers, service providers, firms in related industries and associated institutions (e.g. universities, standards agencies, trade associations) in a particular field that compete but also cooperate” (Porter 2000, 16). This very broad definition is concerned with more than regional production-networks, with which the phenomenon of robustness is associated in the following. It also refers to spatial concentration, different types of organizations and institutions, as well as a particular field of activity that associates these entities. There are many contributions in the social science literature that analyze the cluster phenomenon from different disciplinary angles (especially economics and economic geography), within different fields of observation, and in conjunction with different theoretical perspectives. Paradoxically, this multitude of studies contains just a few main themes. As a brief overview, the three main types of argument contained in this literature seek to elucidate robust innovation in regional clusters. These are discussed in the following section.

Regions as institutional environments for robust innovation The first line of argument is concerned with “regional systems of innovation” (Braczyk et al. 1998) and “institutional theory of regional development” (Amin and Thrift 1994). Robust regionally concentrated innovation activities are based on a unique set of institutions, mostly in the fields of law, economics, intermediary professions, and politics. “Superstructures,” such as culture, are also integrated in this model (Cooke 2001, 960). Mainly employing standardized comparisons with other regions, these studies identify statistical links between specific sets of firms and institutions and the outputs they define as innovations. The objective in this case is to discover which institutional sets are found in regions with high innovation rates. In this perspective, regions can be seen as institutional environments or specific combinations of institutions that promote a relatively continuous rate of innovation. These scholars would argue that a regional finance system and specific infrastructures correlate with output rates. As a whole, these studies can help us to gain descriptive insights into the structural properties and differences of predefined areas with a specific history.

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Clusters as containers of knowledge transfer A second line of argument used to explain the cluster phenomenon is that “deeper” forms of knowledge transfer arise through enduring interaction and shared experiences in regions. These two elements, it is argued, bring new, unique combinations of knowledge to life. This is precisely the means by which tacit knowledge can be incorporated in longlasting collaborations (Asheim and Gertler 2005), which are likely to be found in regions where heterogeneous actors learn from each other over decades (Nonaka et al. 1998). Forms of trust arise in spatially concentrated areas and permit the emergence of these learning processes, which require delicate, often fuzzy forms of coordination. This argument is often linked with the qualification of the cooperation field as “knowledge-intensive” (Bunker-Whittington et al. 2009). The robustness of innovation arises through knowledge-flows; the spatial domains in which these processes occur simply remain in the background. Bodily presence matters in the form of co-presence, as a motivational basis for actors and, in the end, a transfer medium. The main mechanism by which clusters operate is via a unique recombination of competences. Because “knowledge flows are invisible, they leave no paper trail by which they may be measured and tracked” (Krugman 1991, 53).

Clusters as network structures in a relational perspective A slightly different argument produces an understanding of robust innovation through identifying a distinct web of nodes linked by specific ties. The argument can be divided into at least two forms. The first points to empirical findings of network analysis, that describe robustness of innovation by identifying specific webs of actors and their interaction (Ferrary and Granovetter 2009). In the second form, White’s (1992) idea of trendsetters—actors positioned in multiple networks—was taken up by Hasse (2003) and adapted to explain innovation processes. Both forms describe the cluster phenomenon by pointing out the relations between actors. While the first focuses on robustness, the second concentrates on the induction of the “new.” Both aspects are highly relevant for an understanding of clusters; but, as with the line of reasoning described before, they are also centred on flows of information and leave aside materiality and spatiality. Another difficulty with this argument is that, according to White, this relational perspective is not specific to clusters. It is a concept used to describe social organization in general. The second

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and third arguments sometimes derive in combination, for example (in a theoretical perspective) in Burt’s (2005) prominent work on social capital.

The cluster phenomenon in theoretical perspective: structuration theory and ANT What becomes apparent in the above research is a threefold focus on institutions, interactions, and relations, as well as a neglect of spatiality, materiality and what may be called the bodily production of clusters. Adequate conceptions of regions are missing in these studies. In fact, we still do not know much about the influence of “geographic concentration” on robust innovation within clusters. This is an important point, not just to qualify cluster in contrast to other forms of inter-organizational networks, but to grasp their inner social dynamics. These points are at the core of emerging theories of practice and are radicalized in postmodern interpretations of ANT. Both have yet to be used consistently in order to grasp the phenomenon of clusters.3 This potential will be briefly elaborated below.

Cluster structuration as systemic, bodily production Structuration theory is based around the core concept of social practices and the theorem of duality of structure. Both are inherently linked and of central importance for conceptualizing the effects of material concentration within the framework of structuration theory. This is combined with what Giddens defines as a specific characteristic of human beings, i.e., actors who usually “know how to go on” in a practical way in concrete situations. This practical understanding derives from social practices that are actualized in actors’ memories. These can be conceptualized as “regularized types of acts” (Giddens 1993, 81) and are constitutive for an understanding of the occurrences in question. They have a dual character, that is, they are both generative and limiting to social life. Every act that is oriented on these forms of practical knowledge binds the activity back to a totality of structures that are actually absent in that moment. This explains what the duality of structure and action in interaction means in emphasizing that structures are both the medium and the outcome of bodily intervention in the world (ibid., 129). This last notion makes the theory fruitful for understanding cluster effects. The role 3

For some rare exceptions, see, e.g., Sydow (2002) for a structuration perspective, or Callon and Law (2004) for ANT-based arguments.

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of materiality and spatiality in the initiation of innovation could be grasped in a classical structuration manner in three specific ways: 1. As practically enacted elements of bodily intervention in the world, materiality is “‘made to happen’ by the modes of reflexive monitoring of action” (Giddens 1984, 64). Physical elements of the world are not constitutive for social processes based solely on their materiality, but on their specific, structured enactment in the competent activities of human beings. Like the walls of a prison, for example, they restrict purposive movements of the body. This only matters, however, if we want to go in or out when the gates are closed. Clusters can be described then as specific surroundings that physically limit some practically motivated bodily activities. The body itself restricts these, too, as it is fundamentally bound to biological reproduction. 2. As entailed by the physical locales where interaction occurs, material elements influence the flow of social encounters in a specific way, as for example the floors of a school, where classes mix in the breaks between lessons (Giddens 1984, 135). Regional concentration therefore could be seen as a driving factor behind spontaneous interactions. This is compatible with some of the concepts of clusters described above. 3. Concrete material artifacts as well as specific locales are also a part of social practices. As properties of social systems, they are integrated in activities in an institutionalized manner. When producing new artifacts in the initial phase of innovation, they are brought into being while referring to and using material and spatial properties of a context in manifold, mostly routinized ways. A classic structuration perspective would describe the social use of materiality and spatiality. As meeting areas or habitual tools and instruments, these aspects lend order to social activities. The problem of order also moves space to the core of structuration theory, because order is precisely how social systems “bind time and space” (Giddens 1981, 30), or how repetitive activities occur in the fleetingness of the present. Giddens understands that through memory traces social actors actualize in order to go on (Giddens 1984, 17). The basis for all these structuration figures is an image of social encounters primarily involving the face-to-face interactions of human actors. Material and spatial aspects are focused mostly on their restrictive capabilities on these interactions. The generative aspect of regional concentration for permanent variations is that they enable face-to-face encounters. In such a classic structuration perspective, cluster dynamics that initiate robust innovation would mainly start with powerful negotiations between social actors. The productive aspect of materiality is seen as an external shock, leading to newly constrained situations and special negotiations (see, e.g., Barley 1990 for a

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classic study). On the other hand, the theory of structuration grasps the regulated, enacted character of material and spatial production, i.e., that regional concentration is made to happen in an existential way only in and through competent human activity.

The (re-)discovery of materiality and spatiality in ANT In the social sciences, the most prominent discourse on productive aspects of materiality can be located in the field of science and technology studies. With a new emphasis on materiality, a number of scholars in this field have begun to deconstruct the division between nature and society in modern social thought (Latour 2000), focusing on the reciprocal associations of heterogeneous social and material elements in the contingent presence of real-time processes. The discovery of materiality has been an explicit part of social analysis since the writings of Marx and Durkheim (see for a comment Lindemann 2008). But the (re-)discovery and radical conception of enduring production has defined the potential of their debate, shifting its focus to the contingent, fragile presence of entities in relation-building processes. That is what is described by careful micro-narratives of the earliest phases of innovation. They have been discussed in context of regional clusters only in a few cases, but have the potential to serve as an interesting conceptual resource. For the purpose at hand, I will highlight two figures in ANT and question their explanatory power with regard to the effects of regional concentration on robust innovation in clusters. 1. Bruno Latour and the other authors of ANT would wholeheartedly endorse the statement that the social sciences generally lack concepts to grasp materiality and spatiality. In their terms, “sociologistic” theories extend back to writings by the earliest sociological thinkers including (once again) Durkheim (Latour 2005). The above described literature on clusters is in keeping with this tradition of thought. What has to be brought back into focus, these authors argue, are the “missing masses” of multiple non-human agencies (Latour 1992). This would qualify situations of production in clusters as fragile relations between heterogeneous elements. The elements of a situation are all entities that make a difference. To grasp them fully, ANT authors analyze situations with a symmetric language that uses the same concepts for all elements, avoiding the “discrimination” of non-humans which often are not integrated because they need a “speaker” (Callon 2006). What we can learn about the cluster phenomenon from such a perspective is that production can be analyzed as a fragile process of open-ended associations. In an early conceptual text about “the powers of associations” Latour (1986) refers in his title to the manifold

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elements that do not “have” power themselves, but gain it through the very process of associating. In this—for social theory “radical”—way, we can see the fluidity of innovation by focusing solely on various differences or outputs in the world. From this standpoint, nothing could be accomplished without a complex network of associated human and non-human partners. Society is located in performances which automatically relate actors to each other. The innovation studies of ANT (e.g., Callon 2006) reveal these interwoven activities in empirically thick descriptions, referring to material elements as transformative capacities. They give us an idea of the concrete influence of materiality and spatiality, and shift the focus to “how” questions. We can ask, for instance, how are innovations produced materially? Taking methodological cues from ANT, the answers can be gained through tackling the main questions of this anti-theory. For example: Which elements make a difference in the concrete situation? What would have occurred in their absence? 2. A second figure in ANT that helps to grasp the cluster phenomenon refers to a certain conception of order. Order in a Latourian sense is perceived as materiality enduring through situations. As Law (2006, 437) puts it in a direct critique of Giddens: order does not exist in human memory, but in heterogeneous, material arrangements. Instead of a precise notion, I would interpret this critique as a helpful irritation that provides an impetus for social thought to return to the problem of order by examining concrete production processes (Latour 2001, 247). With Latour and ANT we can think of the classic problems of stability and continuity in terms of assemblages in relevant situations. This directs us toward an understanding of permanent innovation through specific assemblages in time-space. Though simple, this concept refers to the material contingency of every situation in innovation processes and the elements that lend them a specific physical form. To think of order in terms of elements outlasting situations can be quite an important aspect to comprehend the effects of geographical concentration. ANT can give us concepts to grasp what geographical concentration in clusters means in a very palpable way—showing that things around us matter. Drawing from an ethno-methodological tradition, these writings have the tools to identify the prerequisites of production as well as their complex micro-dynamics. What lies beyond the scope of interest of the ANT is linking these notions to an understanding of the self-referential, systemic regulation of these activities and a more complex conception of human agency, one that goes beyond mere physical effect-relationships. While helpful and innovative, this group of work loses sight of the inherent

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historic, institutionalized nature of social life, which, for this line of writing, is a rather high price to pay.

The regulation of bodies and things in cluster activities Based on the notion that the robustness of innovation can be seen through a lens that focusses on classic sociological issues such as institutions, interactions, or networks, it should now be clear that there are still analytical deficits when it comes to understanding aspects of the regional concentration of bodies and things that obviously matter in a conceptualization of how regional dynamics lead to permanent variation in clusters. Turning to available social theory, it would seem reasonable to draw from existing figures that emphasize the material production of social life, such as practice-theories or ANT. Structuration theory in its classical form focusses on the role of spatial concentration for bodily production, social encounters, and social practices. Alternatively, drawing from concepts offered by ANT, this gap can be bridged by associations of heterogeneous elements in material production, where things, bodies, signs, and so on are assembled, thereby structuring concrete situations through material continuity over time. Both approaches exhibit inherent problems. From my perspective, it seems helpful to come back to theories of practice in order to reinstate classic sociological issues, especially the historic and institutionalized character of social life, and to conceptualize geographical concentration as regulated and process-related. I discuss three conceptual themes as part of an endeavour to build on the concepts of structuration theory: First, we can formulate a more general understanding of social interaction based on the notion of intersecting presence and absence as it appears in the writings of Giddens by packaging it in pragmatist terms as a co-constitution of actor and environment, that, moreover, explicitly accounts for social interactivities with objects. This provides the basis for a more complex understanding of time-space formations as competently enacted assemblages residing within social practices. Such assemblages could then be seen as constitutive and regulating elements within clusters as social systems. These assemblages influence the production of the new in clusters in an intended or unintended way, making some activities possible, while restricting others.

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Social practices as the intersection of presence and absence Giddens offers insights into the specific nature of material production by emphasizing the regulated, systemic character in which knowledgeable agents enact their bodily interventions in enduring co-constitution with their physical and social context. The very basis of their active capacity to act is the reflexive monitoring that Giddens describes as a “continuing stream of purposive activity in interaction with others and with the world of nature” (Giddens 1993, 89). Giddens’s ideas are in alignment with those of Pickering (1995) with regard to their emphasis on an asymmetrical role for human agents. Unlike non-humans—which can be a decisive part of situations, albeit as resisting entities—human beings are able to actively anticipate and tune into events with a certain level of motivation (Pickering 2007, 28). In Pickering’s terms, robustness can be understood as an outcome of active tuning of human beings intangibly intertwined with non-human elements in concrete, socio-material processes. Referring to the concept of co-ordination in the pragmatist thought of Dewey (1896, 367), human practice can be explicated as processes of reciprocal coconstitution between actors and their socio-material environment in openended situations. A specific trait implied by Giddens in these forms of bodily production is that actors usually “know how to go on” in a practical way in such streams of events. This links his concept of action as bodily intervention to that of competent activity. Every act that is oriented on these forms of practical knowledge ties the activity back into a totality of structures that are absent in that given moment. In practical activity, this combination of presence as a momentary intervention that simultaneously refers to absent structures makes the theory fruitful for an understanding of cluster-effects. It means to describe social life as an “intersection of presence and absence” (Giddens 1984, 132) in the flows of events. Actors themselves are thus no longer the mighty creators that Western modernity has made of them (Meyer and Jepperson 2005). Their agency itself is constituted in and through these situations, often vis-à-vis inevitably present nature. The core concept of social practices can be understood in reference to Derrida as a threefold form of différance. They “occur not just as transformation of a virtual order of differences (Wittgenstein’s rules), and differences in time (repetition), but also in physical space” (Giddens 1979, 46). Within this definition, we can see the inherent connection between the aspect of repetition in situated production and that of absent, virtual elements that regulate it. Presence is not an easy concept in social theory, since it always evokes a twinge of individualism. In a broad sense,

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Giddens uses presence as a term for concrete situations in the steady stream of time-space (Giddens 1984, 118). It includes the aspects of realtime association or translation, as described in ANT, as well as selection against the background of absent, alternate possibilities, as illustrated by Derrida (see Ortmann 2008) or Luhmann (1984), and finally substantialist aesthetics as found in Gumbrecht (2004). We can define it as the timespace relation of a described element to a concrete situation. According to Giddens (1979, 206ff.), presence can be divided into three analytical forms: 1. Giddens places the most emphasis on the notion of co-presence, which describes the mutual awareness of actors, mainly in the context of face-to-face interactions. He describes the face as the centre of sociality, and stresses, for example, the importance of bodily positioning. Another feature of co-presence is the interaction or inter-activity (Rammert 1999) with the physical properties of situations. Each element, which makes a difference in situ, can provide a direct response to other involved elements, including the whole range of senses. 2. Giddens further noted that elements could be physically present, but absent in time. His example is reading a book or a letter that offers thoughts of a person originating from different sequences in time, but physically present in the moment as written words. The situation contains elements that have no means of directly responding to whatever is occurring. 3. Last but not least, there are forms of presence in which elements are absent in space, but present in time. This is often seen as a new feature of a sociality introduced by new communication technologies. Actors can communicate with each other, but not in a manner that involves all the senses. The absent dimension of social life refers to the virtual orders4 involved in bodily production. As we have seen, we have to discuss every act against the background of the instantiation and enactment of social 4

In Giddens’s terms: “To say that structure is a ‘virtual order’ of transformative relations means … that structure exists as time space presence, only in its instantiations in such practices and as memory traces orienting the conduct of knowledgeable human agents” (Giddens 1984, 17). This refers to an understanding of order that is recognizably similar to that of Latour, with an important difference: the existence of these structuring elements over time and space is derived from the memory traces of knowledgeable agents and not solely from their materiality. The notion of “instantiation” points to the physical accomplishment of these structures, which often (in the case of material facilities) depends upon the notion of material enduring throughout different situations.

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systems, as the output of social forms that describe “how to go on.” Human conduct has to be understood as a specific enactment of an absent totality. We therefore need to acknowledge that only regulated character of practices is what provides us with the ability to act. Social structures as imaginary institutions always involve an intersection of individual and social preconditions (Castoriadis 1990; Joas 1992, 156). Indeed, they are undetermined, flexible, or “magmatic,” in Castoriadis’s terms. That is why social practices are inherently equipped with creative potential. At the same time, they are very strict in their circumscription of what is possible. Giddens refers to both of these aspects when he speaks of the regularization of acts in and through social systems. Systems themselves are defined as interdependent actions arising from different forms of regulation (1996, 100) and “social relations and social interactions coordinated across time and space” (1990, 302). This allows us to add a systemic understanding of bodily production to the conceptions found in ANT without doing away with fragile associations in presence. This is the basic claim of the following theoretical figures.

Time-space formations as assemblages provided by practices What does this all tell us about the impact of regional concentration? Conceptualizing the intersection of presence and absence is fundamental to an elaborated understanding of the concepts offered by structuration theory in attempting to grasp the generative effects of concentration. In particular, I would like to address three concepts within Giddens’s theory of time-space-formations to elaborate regional dynamics: “locale,” “regionalization,” and “presence availability.” All these concepts can be combined with notions of the co-constitution of bodies and things, as well as the core concepts of structuration, practices, and the duality of structure. To do so, we have to add the dimension of time and relate them to the concept of self-regulating social systems. Some additional concepts will be introduced to this end. Locales are the concrete settings where interactions occur. They are a certain “type of social organization … having definite characteristics” (Giddens 1984, 135). They are highly institutionalized features of social systems in the sense that agents usually know where to go to do certain things or coordinate their activities by meeting at a specific point and so on. Both the social and material components of these locales enable specific situations and restrict others. They are both physical assemblages

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and structural properties of social systems, depending on what is present and what is not (ibid., 118). As socially constituted places, locales are inherently parts of and constitutive for the process of regionalization within social systems, which denotes the movement of social actors “through settings of interactions, that have various forms of spatial demarcation (ibid., 116).” These processes result in and form out of physical concentrations of activities, but they are also deeply rooted in the constitution of specific time-space paths of human beings in and through social practices (ibid., 122). The repetitive character of these paths leads to time-space zoning of bodies and things. One main example is the modern spatial division between sleeping and working (ibid., 207). Locales link these activities with material settings. Both locales and regionalization are part of relatively fixed and enduring time-space relations or formations (Giddens 1979, 206). These structures are constituted by both the ongoing presence of bodies and things, as well as their virtual structuring through absent totalities. Presence availabilities, considered as structures of social systems, refer to knowledge about potentials for co-presence with certain actors or things grounded in time-space formations of social practices, mostly reflexively enacted. “It links memory … and spatial distribution” (Giddens 1981, 39) and is mostly associated with concrete locales.We could grasp these formations in this sense as material orders structured in and through the reflexive regulation of systems, sometimes guiding them in an unintended way as outputs of specific assemblages. An encounter between two persons while waiting for a cup of coffee at the cafeteria, for example, can thus be viewed from an unexpected perspective, in part as an output of assemblages in a building. It is part of a co-constitution of material and knowledgeable elements in a specific situation. In such a perspective, we can combine elements from knowledgebased cluster concepts with the radical material basis found in ANT. We can explicitly build upon classic concepts of clusters as networks in specific institutional environments, networks that enable specific interactions, without forgetting that highly institutionalized locales and time-space formations also influence the enduring flow of “nows,” and thereby continually enter into systems reproduction. Social practices always tackle both aspects: the involvement of the actors in concrete situations in time-space, as well as their orientation on absent totalities via reproduction and the enactment of memory traces in order to persist in these situations competently. Combining the notions of the intersection of presence and time-space formations, we can conclude that social practices inherently involve negotiating in and regulating time-space formations.

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Deriving from processes of institutionalization over time, they associate each situation with a specific set of locales and thereby provide a specific “level of presence availability” (Giddens 1984, 122) to elements that are not formally present. These formations are an integral part of social systems, recursively linked to (re-)production via the awareness of geographical concentration or distance. As assemblages present in locales, they also influence the (re-) production of social practices in a concrete way: by the fact that things can be regularly found where they were placed and that bodies often repeat similar patterns. These aspects also lend continuity to practices as stabilizing facts. They are both: virtually anticipated to be there in the enactment of a system’s time-space relations and “in their proper place” in concrete processes of bodily production. Otherwise, this formation would no longer be brought to life by knowledgeable agents. Geographical concentration can be understood as a main property of the cluster as a social system, repetitively carried out as facilities for the activities.

Innovation as an output of systemic regulation Finally, I would like to come back to the notion of reflexive monitoring of social actions mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, because the notion of reflexivity entails a second component that needs to be recognized in order to complete the argument. Reflexivity not only claims that agents are aware of “how to go on” in situations; they are also aware of the inherently “systemic” character of their actions. They see that former situations influence the flow of “nows” in sense of feedback loops (Giddens 1996, 99). Also they grasp some kind of coordinative effect, or self-regulation of the system as a “historic machine” (Luhmann 2006, 232), that is discernible. This reflexivity of systemic action enables human beings to intervene in the basic conditions of self-regulating systems. That is what Giddens calls reflexive self-regulation: “the deliberate accomplishment of such coordination by the actors in the pursuit of rationalized ends” (Giddens 1996, 99). In the case of time-space formations in clusters, this can be used as a fruitful concept. I have argued that innovative effects of regional concentration can be understood in terms of reflexive feedback loops of facilities that were assembled over years and now structure the situations of clusters. Noticing that these practices inherently involve a rationalized intervention in self-regulating processes enables a complex understanding of the role of regional concentration for robust innovation. It is the outcome of the reflexive self-regulation of bodies and things via

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regionalization within cluster activities, which take presence availability as a main element in shaping system reproduction. Robust innovations can thus be understood as developments that arise from years of actively tuning situations via assemblages and from the creation of complex and fragile time-space formations. The figure of active intervention in the self-regulation of system reproduction through locale building and assembling allows us to formulate an understanding of geographical concentration that grasps the paradox of innovation management or planning (Ortmann 1999). Often a practical ambition, it can be understood as materialized contingency management (Ortmann 2010), since the process that leads to variation and ultimately innovation is often the unintended outcome of managerial or organizational regulation. Nonetheless, this is highly dependent on the unique presence availability of bodies and things. Robust innovation can be seen as an output of a specific web of relations between organizations that constitute actors with central positions, such as the venture capital firms in Silicon Valley described by Ferrary and Granovetter (2009). However, these forms of organizational networks cannot only be defined as systems that are reflexively regulated through enduring relationships between organizations (Windeler 2001, 235) in the activities of competent actors. Clusters—in the sense of the regional production networks focused on in the following, which are just one aspect of the cluster phenomenon—are specific forms of such networks, where the presence availability of actors and things is enabled through short distances between highly relevant locales and the enactment of regular time-space formations. These build a coordinating principle whereby agents reflexively shape their activities. At the same time, activities are shaped through the material properties of these time-space formations, sometimes in dramatic ways. To think of clusters concretely means to grasp the phenomenon of reflexive assembling of bodies and things to plan for specific ends (often new products or other new artifacts), while sometimes achieving others. Complex, formative situations occur as part of these processes, resulting in activities which could not have happened elsewhere.

A methodology for analyzing innovation as episodes I will illustrate this theoretical concept by relating a sequence of events from the early phases of a radical innovation. Although this is not a normal case of innovation, or one that happens every day, as a more extreme example it shows us a great deal about the contingency of innovative

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processes. It was the most frequently cited story of innovation in our fieldwork in a German cooperation cluster on basic research in chemistry. The basic themes of its research activities are innovation studies, interdisciplinary organization, and careers. The cluster involves approximately 250 researchers, 50 departments, and 6 institutions. It was founded in 2007 via the excellence program initialized by the federal government in Germany (see, e.g., Kehm and Pasternack 2008). Methodologically, we decided on a mixed-methods design with a pragmatist, grounded-theory-based approach (see Morgan 2007 on pragmatism as the paradigm of mixed methods). In selecting our interviewees, we used theoretical sampling within different periods over four years. We conducted about sixty structured interviews. In six of them the following radical innovation was reviewed. In terms of interview content, the respondents were asked to relate, in a narrative manner, the most significant innovations in their collaborative research. In addition, we integrated standardized network analysis, as well as observations. A focus on material and spatial concentration continues to be part of this ongoing research project. Our style of analysis changed during the course of our fieldwork. A classic grounded theory approach using a micro-sociological coding scheme derived from symbolic interactionism according to Strauss (1994, 56ff.) did not allow us to adequately contextualize the respondents’ narratives in their historical, institutional, and material context. This problem in theory and method showed once again that these two sides of a coin are merely an analytical division. In light of this issue, I adopted structuration theory as a perspective and instrument (Baur 2008). The mode of analysis presented here aims to see structuration theory and pragmatist epistemology as a “theory/methods bundle” (Clarke 2005). This combination makes it possible to explore the overall recursive and systemic nature of social processes, without negating their heterogeneous, contingent, and material character. To grasp robustness in internal processes of cluster innovation, I adopted the strategy of reconstructing these processes as historic episodes, as an “analytical cut into history,” when treating episodes as a “number of acts or events having a specifiable beginning and end” (Giddens 1984, 244). After the descriptions of structures leading up to the situation, we had to analyze the sequence itself as a “process of institutional transmutation” (ibid.) within a historical context and tending towards a specific, known end. Within such a perspective, we can ask what consequences the regional concentration of bodies and things had on the processes, combining observations of material presence, without negating

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its inherently historical, systemic character. This means taking the fragile and existential character of each innovation process into account, while also referring to overarching elements that lend them stability.

An irritating prerequisite-ridden experiment The following sequence describes the initial phase of a radical innovation for the entire research programme within this collaboration. It starts with growing frustration of a PhD student and results in an ongoing discussion about the data from an experimental series that no one even expected to exist. The departments of two universities collaborated over a number of years to build upon their respective expertise in preparing and testing specific proteins. Their cluster is built around a biology-based working group that had accumulated expertise in purifying the proteins since the 1980s. The purification process involves extracting the proteins from the enzymes in which they are naturally produced. Over the years, the area evolved into a centre for this scientific field, with diverse other local research groups working on these outstanding specimens. The main players in the cluster were, on the one hand, the leader of the abovementioned biology working group and, on the other, a method-oriented chemist with a world-class instrument pool. The combination of these specific specimens and instruments created the foundation for a long period of productive cooperation resulting in several respected papers. The episode described here is about a series of experiments with the enzyme as a whole, which showed that the protein is destroyed during the process of extraction. In the end, the positions within this cooperation were utterly transformed by these experiments, because the previously esteemed expertise in purifying the protein had lost a big part of its relevance. The radical transmutation of this research field involved convincing the biologists to believe the accuracy of the results, an enervated “discoverer” who sought refuge abroad, and an outstanding doctoral thesis. The episode leading up to this situation can be described as a fragile succession of three critical events only possible through the specific reflexive and non-reflexive self-regulation of bodies and things in and through the cluster activities. The latter emerge from historically institutionalized, unique assemblages called upon in these situations, deriving from different organizational, personal, and scientific paths in time-space, created over longer periods of time.

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Frustrating work, available specimens, and tinkering for findings The episode begins with a single experiment with the enzyme as a whole, within the framework of a doctoral thesis. It derives from a long period in which the doctoral student was unable to reproduce elements containing the extracted proteins and a growing frustration with this situation. A broad range of elements are present that culminate in a disruptive situation. These included the assemblage of a young chemist working on his part of a specific project within the cluster, the protein specimens repeatedly supplied by the biologists, the experimental instruments collected and built up over years through the activities of the chemistry department, the written lines in reports from former experiments, knowledge activated about the scientific “problem” of analyzing irreproducible findings, “natural specimens” resulting from access to the pure enzymes in the biology labs, the interpretation of the situation as seeing no positive development in the experiments, dissatisfaction over possibly exceeding the normal three-year limit on the doctoral phase in chemistry, and so on. Focusing on the effects of physical concentration, we note that the motivated act of the student that breaks with routine in order to detect the protein in a purified form, highly depends upon the concrete material assemblages of “natural” enzyme probes and the complex apparatus in the laboratory of the chemists. It also depends on interaction with the symbolic system of the research field, with former studies and the overall view within the natural sciences that deems tinkering an appropriate form of doing science (see van den Belt and Rip 1987). The student’s frustration at the fact that the experiments are not reproducible at all, and the awareness that this is not a satisfying result for a doctoral thesis, leads to testing of the whole enzyme. Comprehensive testing, however, is only possible in and through specific, highly regulated material features of the situation. All these elements (both material and social) are highly regulated through procedures within the cluster, of which its specific timespace formations are a central part. The latter result in a high degree of presence availability of manifold infrastructures actualized in the activities of the chemist. An institutionalized time-space formation emerges over time as the result of the organizational positions in the team, experimental arrangements, and rooms or spaces of activity. These elements are fundamental preconditions for this situation and are made to happen through the reflexive enactment of all its constitutive elements in the socially oriented activities of the frustrated student.

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Possibilities to continue with the experimental series The student pushes forward with the tests, gaining reproducible results using the new experimental configuration that tests the whole enzyme. He detects the natural samples again and again in different settings and receives reproducible results, but still is not completely certain of what is going on. One of the main structures generating these ongoing research activities are the professional competences. These are also inscribed in organizational procedures. Researchers are treated as self-reliant scientists whose activities revolve around “good scientific practice,” and hierarchical restrictions inside the organization that are made mostly in form of suggestions or limited access to materials. The regular and active physical absence of the working group leader in the lab is another point in this direction, because, as the head of the chemistry work group told us, “If they had asked me, I would have said that it will never work! But it works.” The same is the case with the absence of biologists from this lab setting, attributable to the mainly multi-disciplinary, divided process of cooperation, with separate work packages in the cluster. The back-region character of laboratory work, i.e., “lonely nights” in the lab, is an important precondition for the deviant experiment. This process still remains social, because it is based on interaction with the imagined “scientific” other, in Mead’s (1967) terms. The social order of this process stems from the inherent desire to be recognized as a competent agent (Giddens 1984, 341; Windeler 2001, 275) in a specific field. This is what motivates the student to go on with testing, i.e., not to be blamed for shoddy scientific work when presenting his results. Another form of structuring derives from the material possibilities of competent action. These follow from relatively stable time-space formations that result in the locales where samples are taken, and from expertise concerning potential follow-up experiments, along with access to specific instruments, and so on. The chemist is able to continue tinkering and tuning precisely because he is knowledgeable about the presence availability of relevant bodies and things, and is able to reproduce this knowledge thanks to the social and physical arrangements of all these locales. The promise of presence availability is mostly fulfilled. Last but not least, the process results from the ongoing tuning process in interaction with the material properties of the sample itself.

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Turning to integration: Findings as elements of a new agenda The forms of structuring described above result from regulated practices which the student can follow before conversing with his working-group leader. When the student sits down to talk with his academic supervisor, many tests have already been done. The student can be relatively sure that the results are not nonsense. After the discussions, he conducts further experiments and, together with the chemistry team, develops a new focus in his series of experiments. At this point, the chemistry team wants to stabilize the results before debating them within the project team as a whole. The consequences of variation are then monitored in terms of their consequences for system self-regulation. The head of chemistry department told us that these first experiments could have easily been ignored. He actively decided that it would be better for the cluster to revise its own previous work, gaining a new reputation based on these findings. This strategy could only be pursued due to the autonomy of the chemistry department, developed out of a long institutional history of academic self-organization (see, e.g., Stichweh 2009) that defines professors as independent researchers. This is inscribed in the cluster practices as well. Once a relative stability had been achieved, the results were presented in meetings of the whole project: And then discussions started and the ones who got the earlier results made suggestions for further experiments that you would have to do to really say that this is correct what you have done with these techniques. (Biologist and research group leader)

This results in a long regress of different tests, which includes instruments and expertise from other parts of the cluster, as well as the active processes of bringing the results to the wider scientific community. But that part of the story goes beyond this initial phase of innovation. In the end, this all leads to an understanding of the protein, suggesting that it was broken within the process of purification. This discovery opens up a completely new field of research, destroying the biologists’ expertise. That’s what Schumpeter (1961) means to be constitutive for innovations, the character of creative destruction. Especially variation, as the initial phase of innovation processes, lacks concrete steering. If not, we would have a paradoxical conception of a foreseen, projectable newness (Ortmann 1999). But reconstructed, we can nevertheless identify structures that enable and constrain the flow of nows, constituting its specific trajectory: relatively fixed time-space formations leading to complex

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assemblages of bodies and things. These are both physically present, deriving from concrete constellations in time-space, as well as absent, virtually ordered ones. So what we can see is that the complex arrangements leading to ongoing tests are a result of active geographical concentration in and through routinized cluster-procedures, which have a symbolic, orienting (Strauss 1960) as well as a generic character. On the other hand this specific process for the cluster itself can be described as the unintended outcome of self-regulation, because it was never planned for that specific experiment to happen. Seen as feedback deriving from complex time-space assemblages as well as from the purposive action of the student, the concrete situation transforms cluster practices in an unintended way.

Robust innovation and regulation of bodies and things Robust innovation in regional cooperation-clusters in technologized fields, like the one described, can be seen as an output of (mostly) reflexive self-regulating systems that organize time-space relations between bodies and things in a way that repetitively actualizes specific time-space formations through the activities of knowledgeable actors. To thereby grasp the effects of regional concentration, we have to acknowledge these processes as producing assemblages saturated with prerequisites. These are required conditions for the production of relevant variations, whether in a scientific field, a market, or another social area. Variations can be seen as combinations of purposive deviation by human beings and situational conditions in time-space. Not much has been said about robustness of innovations in the short case presented above, but we can see these specific time-space formations as forms of order that shape possibilities and constrain actors involved in the production and reproduction of these social systems. In regional clusters a high degree of presence availability of specific bodies and things is a coordinating principle of activities in an inter-organizational network. Maybe this example is a first step toward conceptualizing this form of coordination, and we see it as an active process of geographical concentration, resulting in situations in which complex and fragile processes are constituted. This awareness of short distances as regulatory constraints is the antithesis to that of global information society, where time-space seems to disappear in flows of information. Distance reduction could be seen as a result of strategic conduct on the part of clusterentrepreneurs who recognize that geographical concentration provides locational advantage, and who bring clustering to life through their

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activities. Such a perspective opens up social analysis for an understanding of reflexive, active regulation of materiality, sensuality and bodily activity in and through practices of social systems, which are shaped and actualized in socio-material production. In case of clusters, people use the materially and spatially situated character of human praxis for their different projects.

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CHAPTER SEVEN ACTORS’ LIFE RHYTHMS IN THE METROPOLITAN ART WORLDS CHAN LANGARET

Abstract As in many countries around the world, the French art worlds are concentrated in metropolitan areas. This spatial concentration has inevitable consequences for the lives and rhythms of the individuals who are a part of them. Different strategies are put in place in the face of this concentration. Each requires adaptation and is not without consequences for individuals in their personal lives. Actors and other artists must learn to integrate the various segments of their lives—segments that sometimes pull them in different directions. Family life, alongside the work of incorporating a role, character building, rehearsals, time spent on stage, and social life (which can also provide them with professional opportunities), are all spheres governed by different requirements and divergent schedules. Keywords: Actor; Concentration; Metropolis; Rhythm; Career; Alternation; Socialization

This paper explores the activity of actors in the entertainment industry, following the analysis of Pierre-Michel Menger. We shall examine rhythm issues in the lives of these individuals, considering professional choices and personal adaptations they make with respect to career paths, work rhythms, and professional socialization.

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French art worlds: Concentrated in the Metropolis As in many countries around the world, the French art worlds are concentrated in the largest metropolitan areas, especially in and around Paris (table 7-1). Furthermore, 56% of the artists’ total volume of contract work and 65% of their total pay also derives from employers who are themselves established in the Paris region (Menger 2011, 344). The sector’s activity is strongly linked to the density of professionals … and to the density of production, decision-making and assessment centers (administrations, private and public funding systems, criticism, media and press of national audience). (Menger 2011, 48)

According to statistics presented by the French Statistics and Prospective Studies Department (DEPS), the Paris area accounts for 58% of French registered professional actors without steady employment. Moreover, if we consider both actors and bit players, 64% of these professionals live in this region (table 7-2). As is obvious from these statistics, the metropolis is a giant art incubator. In urban areas, artists can find their place, adapting to their work environment by finding work opportunities in diverse professional sectors, though preferably in the arts. The way for an actor to maintain his artistic claim and to be free for potential work in his field is to maintain an “activities portfolio”: [Artists] who, temporarily or permanently, do not live off of their vocational profession, must, to remain in the pool of employable artists in search of a breakthrough, compose an activities portfolio (consisting of artistic, semi artistic and non-artistic activities) and resources (by labor, family, spouse, personal or professional circles, public aid, etc.). Obviously, big cities offer the best chance to build up and manage this portfolio, as the size and diversity of opportunities capable of providing new or complementary jobs. The dense interpersonal networks are also providers of information on new projects, support and access to public aid. (Menger 2011, 45)

As the portfolio grows, it increases the chance for individuals to have a real artistic career. As Menger explains, big cities, compared to the countryside or small villages, offer greater possibilities to build this portfolio. There are fewer opportunities to connect with the art world for artists who live outside of urban areas. Metropolitan areas thus appear to

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be a “natural habitat” for creative work (Menger 2011, 46), especially because freelance work is more readily available.

Illustration of Table 7-1. Entertainment industry concentration

Annual volume of contract work** Thousand days

Paris

3,977

Total Amount Million Euros

% 43

%

893

47

68

75

Paris region

2,257

25

519

27

Total France

9,156

100

1,893

100

Table 7-1: Source: Caisse des congés spectacles/Cespra/DEPS 2012 (data 2007) **According to the enterprise’s location.

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Furthermore, networks are structured by interpersonal relations in the same way that interpersonal relations structure other networks. This is reinforced by the fact that this industry is organized by projects, bringing together several people for one single show or a temporary artistic happening. These networks constitute art worlds, and are therefore the most important part of this system. Entertainment industry professionals without steady employment Artists Actors Bit players Managerial staff Directors and assistant directors Producers Other managerial staffs Technicians Workers Others Total

Number of workers 72,197 22,098 3,269 23,508

Living in Paris Area % 45 58 74

64 77

7,969

79

3,306 1,874 36,218 4,969 415 137,307

82 85 65 61 85 56

Table 7-2: Source: Caisse des congés spectacles/Cespra/DEPS 2012 (data 2007) The existence of networks brings elements of stability that are the necessary counterpart of the constant search for flexibility and reduction of fixed costs … Concentration of entertainment industry professionals without steady employment in the greater Paris finds its origin here. (Menger 2011, 48)

In this uncertain world, the system’s stability is guaranteed by networks sustained by a “reserve” of workers, as well as the constant turnover of decision-makers, ideas, inspirations, and ways to approach social or cultural issues. At the same time, these elements of stability, which maintain the art world and entertainment industry, are built on unstable elements in the lives of the individuals. Especially for artists not yet connected in the workforce, there are pressures to adopt specific strategies in this system, each adapted to the several separate parts of their lives. First of all, population concentration in metropolitan areas has consequences on individual career rhythms. This concentration is seen

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either as a “necessary step on the way to gain success” or as “something to avoid” (indeed, certain artists believe that their artistic vision of acting should not be linked to something they consider as a herd mentality). Furthermore, this density can also influence work rhythms, as these geographically concentrated opportunities can sometimes oblige people to live at high speed. In fact, as actors’ careers are on the rise, they are unable to organize their schedules in such a way that they decide when to rest and when to work. Ultimately, this can affect the way they do their job, how they focus on a role, and whether they succeed or fail in the interpretation of a character. Finally, urban concentration may force actors to adhere to specific rhythms of professional socialization. In order to penetrate art networks in big cities, actors have to seize the chance to meet people, especially those who might have a role for them in their next project. The societal expectation placed upon actors forces them to accept special rhythms, not always in synchrony with their way of life.

Career rhythms: Metropolitan opportunities Actors who live in rural areas can modify their lives to the image they have of life in Paris. The first example concerns Norbert, a young actor in Bretagne, who began his career but remains unsure which future is best for him. One thing seems certain: the only route to success runs through Paris. Originally from a small village, he has moved to a bigger town, Rennes, with Paris being a possible final destination: It’s a choice, it’s a career choice, either we stay in the provinces, then we continue to make these little plays and be… well, also known, but by… Known by school pupils and teachers… Having moments of grace, having moments of joy with a provincial public… Either we go to Paris, then we try to make great… To become a great actor! (Norbert)

The “great actor” is the one who works in film, with famous directors, sharing the cast of prestigious movies with renowned colleagues, and participates in many festivals. This image of the City of Lights (utopian or realistic?) as an “obligatory step” to reach fame includes a centralizing perspective, and influences the actor in the way he seeks contracts in or near Paris. Nathalie belongs to a small company in the French provinces which managed to defeat the odds and produce a play in Paris, and she shares a similar point of view. Her company performed their show three times in the French capital, but as Parisian networks and the public were not informed, the show was a commercial failure. After returning home, the

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image of a company having performed in Paris turned the failure into a success and improved the company’s reputation: And I must say; this is nonsense, eh. Here… in our little corner, the fact that we played in Paris… it’s all “ou-la-la Oh my God!” While frankly, we did not change anything! But uh… it sounds impressive. We were in Paris… There’s still a bit of the “that’s the capital, that’s nice” while the audience is the same. For me, whether I play for a Parisian audience, or somewhere… deep in the bush, it’s the same! … And it is true that the first time, I was very anguished because, in my head, maybe I had the same idea. And then I was a little bit angry with myself. It’s Paris indeed… It’s silly! People are the same! But hey, it will probably remain with us… It’s probably in our genes! (Laughs). (Nathalie)

A vicious circle thus appears: concentration feeds on itself and generates still more concentration, building reputations and affecting careers. Living near the French capital allows for more reactivity. One is able to approach directors and producers (who also live in the region, see table 7-2), to introduce oneself more easily into the Parisian network. All these considerations give the impression that the easiest way, if not the only way, to gain success is to go there, in order to experience living, studying, or performing, even only once. For some French actors, the “mythical city” of Paris represents the fast track to great success. This preconceived notion appears to be fully justified, even if this sketch is overly simplistic. For the same reasons, many actors from the provinces “go up” to Paris to study in prestigious theatre schools or classes, like the CNSAD (Superior National Conservatory of Dramatic Art) or the Cours Florent. They can be taught by famous professors, expecting the best instruction, and draw benefits from the address books of these institutions. Obviously, these choices have a price, and they reveal personal ways of conceiving career paths. This concentration often goes hand-in-hand with an intense and unstable work pace, but it also offers stable opportunities: even a medium-sized structure can rely on a substantial audience. Personal adaptations to these more-or-less atypical rhythms (which definitely characterize the art worlds) depend of the way actors consider their professional activity and how they define success. These different professional rhythms have consequences on their personal everyday lives. A volatile professional life can be linked to a personal choice, a preference for this kind of life or an aversion to a lifestyle considered being too typical. Félicia expresses her loathing for excessive stability in everyday life, where she feels oppressed by a way of living that she considers full of pettiness and lack of interest in the world and for others:

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Félicia explains why she enjoys touring from one metropolis to another. It is first an artistic project and as such a source of pleasure and enjoyment. International tours especially may bring about international success. Other elements of seduction also have their importance: travelling around the world, visiting nice places, and discovering the cultural treasures of many countries: In England, Judy, our wonderful tour manager, I called her my Nicole Kidman, she… She always paid careful attention to the comfort of the actors, that we felt good, uh, in such an elegant way. I mean, when the tour was much too long, she managed to find us apartments, beautiful apartments you see … we saw beautiful houses with big screen TV in the living room, you know, the kitchen, like in American films, with all, all the equipment for cooking, beautiful, trendy, or… it was beautiful equipment, all these things. You’d say to yourself, wow, great luxury. … In Japan, we visited the temples; suddenly when you’re in such places… changes in culture, this is splendid, too, you think: What a gift! Having all this… all this free time to visit the city, to uh… On top of that, there is… This is great luxury because everything is paid for you, so you are free of worries, you’re in the finest hotels, you can afford to go in the very, very best restaurants, although some unpretentious little restaurants are sometimes magnificent, you know? (Félicia)

But these metropolises also generate alienation, contrasting with the freedom and successful image of an “international career.” Thus, Félicia also realizes that some rhythms are difficult to follow. The instability of the life on tour can lead people to lose landmarks or points of reference, especially in the big metropolis, where the global codes and rhythms have invaded most areas: I have found myself, you know, in France, Italy, England, Switzerland, Spain… I was on tour, I lived a life, there, it was very difficult, I must confess, I had a little moment where I was a little bit… when suddenly,

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also relating to my personal life, that is to say, you live a parallel life, you’re always on the road, all the time in hotels … In all cities, you have a downtown, and in the city center, you know, this uniformity that is found more and more, all the same chain stores, these big chains, there, that you find, … StarBucks!… These things… the first time I saw it in England, then I saw it everywhere, in Paris, in southern Italy, there’s even Auchan! [A French chain store] … I personally had this feeling that I was exhausted from touring, I was ashamed, uh, but I could not go on tour anymore. I wanted a break, I dreamt of having ramen at home … Oh yes! Home sweet home [English in original]. (Félicia)

In comparison to the destabilizing international level, the spatial concentration of the art world can also offer a secure environment. The population concentration in big cities offers a steady audience to the shows, which allows for stability and regular work opportunities. Saturnin has established his work stability through a theatre company that allows him to raise his children quietly. The company is situated in the Paris region, and Saturnin performs at least three different shows a year. His wife is also an actress, and the choice of this quiet life, far from the cinema spotlight, seems to be an acceptable option to him. He remembers the time when he chose that life, turning his back on the possibility of a brilliant Parisian career, to put his children first: These children can ask themselves about the balance between career and private life, career and family; as in, I believe, all professions, well, all the professions, I don’t know… I feel, in many professions anyway. And I observe my coworkers. I see those who devote themselves more to their private lives or more… Fully to their careers, and then I have… I chose my camp… My job, as I practice it, suits me. Actually, at one point I had… a desire for glory and wealth. And actually uh… The little that I saw of glory, little eh, having articles in national newspapers… Well, actually I moved on very quickly, I realized that, to have these items, you must: play, well, obviously in a good show; in Paris, and I remember, at that time I didn’t earn a dime! That is to say that… Having to perform in Paris, I received, I remember, a nice article in Libération, I was very happy, a full page with my picture, I was very happy, but uh… it only lasted a day, as it’s a daily newspaper. And then, I quickly came back here. Here, I don’t remember having had an article in the national press, but… But it allows me to live and support my family and actually it makes me… it allows me to be… to focus on what is really of interest to me in this profession. That is to try to do this job as intelligently as possible. (Saturnin)

These different career choices are based on personal needs and preferred paces of life. The social context often influences these choices as they define personal rhythms, and the time one has to interact with neighbours,

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friends, and family imposes time constraints. Saturnin can be there regularly for his children, for a family life, stable enough to coincide with his family project. Félicia can go on tour, with irregular frequency, as her personal and familial projects allow her to do so. These various attachments emanating from social obligations have been analyzed with respect jazz musicians by Howard Becker: The family then, as an institution that demands that the musician behave conventionally, creates problems for him of conflicting pressures, loyalties and self-conceptions. His response to these problems has a decisive effect on the duration and direction of his career. (Becker 1963, 119)

These choices are specifically linked to the concentration of opportunities offered in large cities and the different rhythms that they involve. It is manifestly complex for an actor to decide which opportunities to forgo and which to accept in order to stay true to himself and his various commitments.

Work rhythms: Acting and alternating activities Actors make choices in their careers and have to experience particular life rhythms. As we have seen, to maintain a stable situation, acceptable by the social standards and by the actor himself, the worker must sometimes go away for a few weeks or even a day to gain a contract. In metropolitan art worlds, hiring periods, as well as working times and patterns, are fastpaced. Jojo, a Parisian actor, had been offered work in a famous French TV show which is shot in Marseille, the largest city in the south of France. When he went there to shoot some episodes, even though for only a few weeks, he left behind his home and his family, as an actor on tour would do, and then moved on to other projects. Alternating this way can be hard to sustain when too many different offers arise at the same time. And all these opportunities must be considered carefully. Actors have to maintain a high level of activity because employment is always likewise uncertain. As a substantial portion of projects are cancelled before reaching production, they have to maintain sufficient activity around the strongest projects, namely those which are linked to the strongest networks. This is why an actor such as Corentin (who also lives near Paris) has so many different projects in development: Okay, if for any reason you’re unavailable, don’t hesitate to tell me, there’s no…

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Yes, yes, yes, no, but anyway, you know, I’m still working against the clock, since I left you a message, I have two plays coming up, so there I… I’ll play Caligula by Camus all of June in a Parisian Theater, so… Uh… I’m starting rehearsals, I’m trying to learn the text and I begin the rehearsals at the end of the month, and then I move on to the theatre of the “Deux-Anes” with a comedy duo, and so I’ll do a reading session Tuesday because the text hasn’t been finished yet, so, well… You see, I… (chuckle) Ah, well that’s great! Many projects… I don’t have time to spare … . So it’s a theater focus that’s emerging, Excuse me? Ah, ah yes, yes, quite… Because you told me also that you had writing projects, this was the thing with the “Deux-Anes”? Not at all, writing is something I am doing myself, in fact I’m still writing it, I made some adaptations. For the theater I did a reading session with an actress, a thing I adapted from “L’amour en toutes lettres,” I did that two or three weeks ago. After that I did an adaptation of a book too, but for that, they don’t want me to play it, because they want “a name” and then… They offered that I direct but… And then I was taken for this play because I had done one in Vendée. I don’t know if I had told you, so here you have it. And the only other thing I also wrote is a short film but I have not… uh, I’m on the third version but I was forced to put that aside with everything going on… All that work, so. (Corentin)

This variety of projects also means that the actor must be able to switch quickly between different activities, or to be ready to move on very quickly to the next project, the next character he has to build. Going back and forth is sometimes difficult to support, not only technically but also physically, as it mandates travels and physical effort. Norbert, the young actor from Bretagne, often travels hundreds of miles (over 800 kilometers round trip, between Rennes and Paris) to work for a single day as an extra on a famous TV show. This allows him to earn money enough to pay for the travel and a little bit more. It’s also this job that might finally give him an entry into the Paris network. But a single day of work also increases both mental and physical fatigue. Personal clocks are affected by these work obligations and this influences sleep patterns. The Circadian rhythms of being awake and sleeping can be disturbed by the need for nocturnal activity. For these reasons, Norbert explains that he must adapt his own biological rhythms to the professional rhythms and only sleep when

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nobody needs him. For example, he did sleep in a pub during a night shoot: It takes a long time, it’s during the night, I remember that I was falling asleep, at 2am, I was falling asleep in a booth, it was in a pub, in Quimper, and I fell asleep. Well yes, because I had to go back to Rennes in the night, immediately after, and I thought I’d get some sleep … They won’t forget me, they’ll wake me! And I was not alone; we all slept a little, in the booths at the pub. But I do not remember having slept that much. That is to say that sometimes this is not necessarily… This is particular. (Norbert)

And these particular rhythms, where he must make do with tiredness, are also enforced by the waiting and the aspects of the work that are sometimes boring: I remember a job as an extra, I arrived at 6pm … we waited, at 8pm we were told to go to dinner. We ate for half an hour. We returned to set and waited. At 10:20pm, they told us that we were needed. We shot for 15 minutes, then they said; it’s enough … we waited and waited … at 2am someone came and told us: “we will shoot one scene and after that it will be your turn.” And finally, at 3:30am, the man came back; “I’m sorry, in fact the scene which you had to play in, we won’t be shooting it. So, you’re free.” So, for nine and a half hours being on the movie set, I actually worked for 15 minutes. And I’m not sure I’ll even appear in the movie. … Oh, yes, it’s easy money, but I was still bored. … you should always have a good book in case you’re in it for the long haul! (Norbert)

As they don’t know how long they can focus on other things, it isn’t always easy to keep busy during down time and actors must use these moments to work on other projects, learning a text or reading a book, which nourishes their inspiration, even if a current project would thereby be interrupted. Furthermore, in theatre, cinema or television projects, the tension between quietness and activity is hard to organize, and the specific activity of acting means that there are several phases where concentration is needed every time. Social moments alternate with loneliness, when the actor faces the role directly, in a strange solitary relationship because of the closeness to yet strangeness of the character. These moments of inspiration can’t be called up at will. Most often, actors have to deal with personal feelings and physical needs and never stop working: There’s a big problem, we forget that the comedian’s a job, yeah, we have to learn it. It takes time, needs patience, work, work… It doesn’t come like that … and that’s … You can’t just arrive and say: ok, I know how to act.

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Oh, I know my text—so I can act—no, no, you have to work hard, to do it over and over again… (Norbert)

In the construction of the character the actor gives existence to an imaginary person, and incrementally builds up his character. The actor progressively gains experiences, becomes impregnated with feelings, with perceptions, which will be sources of inspiration from which to create the substance of the characters he will play. He also has to manage personal rhythms between activity times and resting times. An actress testified that she used her time off to feed her inspiration and, as she noted, these moments can’t be considered times of inactivity. When the actor has a break, his body remains attentive. These moments of break allow the actor to stay in sync with reality and to give the characters this famous “naturalness,” this realism which takes root in real life. Through this nourishment of the character, the link between the person of the actor and the character he embodies allows bridges disturbing the strict separations between fiction and reality. (Langaret 2009, 99)

However, if rest and leisure are necessary for actors, a difference must be made between an actor who takes the time for recreation, in a healthy work/life balance, and another who is inactive because he is unemployed, and doesn’t have anything to do. The fact is that someone who looks like he’s unemployed isn’t attractive to employers. And as it is very difficult to remain in an employer’s mind, it is better to appear in demand. The complexity of actors’ activity rhythms is therefore related to both these critical needs: the absolute necessity of devoting time to working on a part and feeding it by discovering other social realities, and the imperative of cultivating a network in which the actor has to appear to be very busy. As it is important to show the quantity of work he is offered, it is also good to be seen sharing opportunities. This accelerates professional relationships and the rhythm of the actor’s activity. Oliver, a Parisian actor, speaking about the importance of appearance, told this joke: You know the famous joke? Two actors meet. The first says to the other: what are you doing, right now? —Oh my, well right now, listen, I, hum, I had a one shoot for a TV movie, I’m… I’m preparing a reading for a play for the festival of Uzès, and, then, uh… I’m doing a theatre research lab with some friends and then, oh, yes, so I have been offered a TV movie in 2013, there which is… Yeah that’s really interesting. Yes, that’s it, and you? —Oh, me… just like you, nothing! (laughs)

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Because they need to see themselves as active workers, actors sometimes need to convince themselves that they are in high demand. If it is actually the case, there are no questions; the self image, as the public image, is good because the telephone is ringing. And if it doesn’t ring, then actors have to make the calls themselves, or know where to be seen, just to remind people that they’re still available. These obligations sometimes suggest a bad theatre play, where everyone could have a part, but nobody has the lead. So we can wonder what part of appearance and what part of real cooperation takes place in the development of an artistic project.

Socialization rhythms: Metropolitan networks The concentration of artists in metropolitan areas also has consequences for how to insert oneself into the art networks. As analyzed by Menger, the way these metropolitan art worlds operate generates inequalities and makes accessing them more complicated: the fragmentation and dispersion of employment relationships generate considerable inequalities between those who are at the heart of the densest networks of interpersonal acquaintances and of information exchange, and those without a large part of this essential and immaterial resource. They are less famous, younger and in the process of integration, as well as not mobile enough or too indifferent to the social games that support and that orchestrate these information exchanges and employment promises. (Menger 2011, 46–47)

As Norbert earnestly explains, a large network doesn’t mean that actors can easily find work opportunities. It just means that there are lots of people concentrated in the same area working in the same field: It’s much more… This is very difficult now. This is very difficult, there’s so much… there’s such a concentration of actors in Paris that … And then, for having contacted casting directors… they are overwhelmed! They told me: “Oh no, we do not have time, we receive applications by… truck loads of applications. There are so many candidates.” (Norbert)

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And employers don’t have enough time to consider each candidate, especially if they don’t know them personally or if they aren’t recommended. Jojo, a Parisian actor, testifies to these very difficulties: This is hard because nowadays people are so… must recognize that, also, that is to say, filmmakers, directors, producers, they are in such demand, they receive so many invitations, they cannot go to the theatre every night, they cannot uh… and so it’s really hard to get noticed because… first there are directors who never go to the theatre, and production people who never go there either. (Jojo)

Socializing becomes a real job, if not a full-time job, which involves refining knowledge and constantly training. Theresa explains that she is not yet good enough at this socializing exercise, not good enough at complimenting and smiling without always thinking of what to say, compared to some of her friends: There are some, who are pretty average, and they manage to work very regularly, because there’s all this kind of stuff, flattery… I have a friend like that, and she never stops working. And yet I think she’s an actress who is very very very average… Very average. And I tell myself but how does she do it? But me, I don’t know how to sell myself, and then I don’t go to premières, and then I’m not there: Oh, hello, oh, great, and everything… And it works! Flattery, it does work, all the time! This is it… (So why don’t you do so?) Yeah… no… but then, you need to know how… and then, it must be done in agreement with yourself also, you must not lie, you have to… You know what I mean? You must not be at the extreme opposite and everything. Perhaps me too… With time it will come… But it’s true that flattery does work, that is to say that people, you tell them that’s great, everybody believes in you. But it’s funny, the fable of the crow and the fox; that’s true, it’s so true, it’s so true! The cheese falls each time. (Theresa)

This disillusioned way of considering interactions between artists or between artists and employers shows the way these networks are perceived. Actors appear to be well aware that the hiring process isn’t always based on their skills and performances. The only way to obtain jobs is to enter these coteries, as Becker had already described with jazz musicians: A network of informal, interlocking cliques allocates the jobs available at a given time. In securing work at any one level, or in moving up to jobs at a new level, one’s position in the network is of great importance. Cliques are bound together by ties of mutual obligation, the members sponsoring each other for jobs, either hiring one another when they have the power or

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It seems that this concentration and this abundance of pretenders involves a specific method of selection. Art projects require cooperation based not only on the formal definition of the division of labor and the specific definition of roles, but also on practical and spontaneous relationships. It has to work well for the cooperation to be successful. These types of relations, ties, and personal feelings play a major role in constituting trustful relationships and effective networks. Norbert evokes an example of these long evenings or whole days spent around a project with other actors with whom he could foresee other projects, becoming friends in the end: Sometimes we have fun because we meet another actor we know, or people with whom we sympathize, and then we spend the evening together, the day together, talking… So, there, sometimes it’s fun. (Norbert)

These relationships, affinities, common values and practices are important in this profession. They facilitate communication, which is the most important thing in an artistic project. This ability to communicate is important for beginners or extras, as they don’t have an important part. It becomes crucial with a lead actor. Pierre Bouvier evokes the preexisting reality of these relations in the constitution of population ensembles, based on cultural groupings: Thus, a “heuristically constructed relation to the world” is being established as of the moment frictions of values and practices induce a specific meaning for individuals and when it begins to be designated as such by the relevant parties. (Bouvier 2011, 15–16)

Although these bonds and ties are indeed necessary to make a collective project possible, it seems that sometimes the formality of the connection supersedes its content, creating collaborations not based upon relationships, but upon strategic alliances. This type of social connection, which can induce professional cooperation in a metropolis such as Paris, is deemed as suspicious by some actors. They believe these coteries of people sharing mutual advantages are sometimes constituted, at the expense of others, by promising future collaborations to one another. As

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regards this, Jojo draws a parallel between the way he worked on a TV show produced in a big town of the south of France that he describes as “professional,” and the way he worked in other shows with the Parisian network: For example, on the Marseilles TV show, they don’t have enough time to… cheat, to be in the emotional, or to be in that quite phony Parisian relational thing, which takes so much time! … and so, there’s no cheating and I thought it’s quite sound. Because, in France it’s often the opposite … Before going into this show, I did some other work on … some Josephine, some Nestor Burma [French TV shows]… My brother was, and still is, a very good director and assistant director. And he personally arranged for me to find lil’ stuff. But I didn’t have to audition. Yeah. I find that pretty bad. If there were more auditions, more people could work and the turnover would be much better. (Jojo)

Besides the importance of interpersonal links which underlie an artistic collaboration (described by Bouvier as a precursor to any collective constructed relation to the world, the basis of any social or cultural group), the links also involve an excluding aspect. Bouvier (2005, 256) uses the term “acclusion” to express these mechanisms of both control over inclusion and an informal exclusion process: The term “acclusion” designates the situation of men and women living in precarious conditions, between the punctual reintegration into the workforce and remaining for long periods of time outside the productionconsumption framework. It refers, in anthropology, to the notion of acculturation. … Here and now, there is no opposition between two types of societies, but an internal situation in the social whole. Acclusion means, more or less extreme poverty leading eventually to exclusion. (Bouvier 2011, 45–46)

Thus, the density of the metropolitan art world networks entails as much inclusion opportunities as occasions for exclusion. Coteries and acquaintances prioritize existing networks and may slow down their renewal, even if this perpetuation sometimes stifles creativity. The commitments contracted by some people to others in these coteries have consequences on the renewal rhythms of the art worlds, as social obligation and conventional behaviours linked to family or friends have consequences on rhythms of individuals’ careers. In fact, individuals in these networks are bound by these attachments to each other, and the coterie, as an institution, demands that they behave conventionally. These networks are limited to specific geographic areas, which include the largest amount of contract work (on its own, Paris accounts for 43% of the

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country’s total activity, as table 7-1 has shown). We can only guess about the proportion of actors who have access to this activity, and about the rhythm of these networks’ renewal. The renewal of dominating networks may go hand in hand with the renewal of creative people. On the other hand, the acclusion of other actors, those who haven’t yet had a noteworthy career, helps maintain a “dominating class” based on relatively stable networks. We could wonder about how to participate in democratizing the access to art networks and disengaging from metropolitan networks games. Pirani and Varga propose that we consider How do identities, bodies and real spaces become remade by the textual, aural and visual technologies of screens and keypads that populate mobile phones, Internet cafés and PC-based virtual communities and cities? … A virtual online common, like absolute space, would offer an infinitely extensible grid for the potential re/unification of separate individuals, with plenty of room for commerce as well. (Pirani and Varga 2008, 11)

Indeed, the potentiality of virtual (but very real) networks could constitute a possible way out of the metropolis that scholars should explore. Inital analysis reveals that the Internet doesn’t always replace the coteries function, but this new tool also classifies people in terms of being part of a virtual “social network.” It seems to follow some essential rhythms and rules of real socialization, including acclusion. Nevertheless, these new technologies may follow specific codes, since faster and easier communication between individuals can facilitate connections. They provide a new way of sharing information and discovering new talents.

References Becker, Howard S. 1988. Les mondes des l’art. Paris: Flammarion. [Published in English as Art Worlds, translated by Jeanne Bouniort. The University of California Press, 1982.] —. 1963, Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance. London: Free Press of Glencoe. Bouvier, Pierre. 2011. De la socioanthropologie. Paris: Galilée. —. 2005, Le lien social. Paris: Gallimard. Langaret, Chan. 2009. “The Play Actors: Fleeing Bodies, Remaining Prudishness or… Body under control?” In Acting Bodies and Social Networks: A Bridge between Technology and Working Memory, edited by Bianca Maria Pirani and Ivan Varga. Lanham: University Press of America.

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Menger, Pierre-Michel. 2011[2005]. Les intermittents du spectacle, sociologie du travail flexible. Paris: Editions EHESS. Pirani, Bianca Maria, and Ivan Varga. 2008. The New Boundaries between Bodies and Technologies. Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Press. Data from the web site of the DEPS (Département des Etudes de la Prospective et des Statistiques): http://www.culturecommunication .gouv.fr/Politiques-ministerielles/Etudes-et-statistiques/Articles/ Chiffres-cles-2012-Statistiques-de-la-culture.

CHAPTER EIGHT BODILY RHYTHMS AND SOCIAL RHYTHMS IN THE RESORTS OF THE FRENCH ALPS: WINTER SPORT, NIGHTLIFE, AND SEASONALITY NEAR MONT BLANC ANDRÉ SUCHET

Abstract This chapter analyzes the bodily and social rhythms of tourists and residents in different ski resorts in the French Alps. The study deals with the daily activities of tourists, from skiing in the daytime, to the nightlife and other private times. The resort, as a unity of place and as a unity of action, is particularly conducive for the study of the rhythms of life in a contemporary society of leisure. The text reports the research done on this subject within the Institute of Alpine Geography at the University of Grenoble in France. Keywords: Tourism; Leisure “Let a single complete action, in one place and one day, keep the theater packed to the last.” —Nicolas Boileau, L’Art Poétique, 1674.

Winter sports occupy a prominent place in European tourism (Bourdeau 2007; Gauchon 2002; Tuppen 2002), not only because of their economic importance in mountainous areas but also due to their major symbolic significance in the “leisure civilization,” as defined by Dumazedier (1967). France is one the world’s leading destinations for such activities, with over 350 officially designated resorts and more than 4,000 ski-lifts in operation, representing 18 percent of all such facilities worldwide (Rolland 2006). Within France, winter sports are concentrated overwhelmingly in the Alps,

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and particularly in the northern sector in the two departments of Savoie and Haute-Savoie. The French Alps are a major focus of tourism and recreation. Historically, the majority of tourist activity occurred initially during the summer season (Boyer 2000, 2009), but increasingly over the last fifty years it is the winter that has become the dominant season, particularly as a generator of income. Tourism is now a major driver of economic development. It attracts an increasing number of foreign visitors through improved accessibility, and it has become both a major recreational area and a residential zone for France. The chapter analyzes the bodily rhythms and social rhythms of tourists and residents in different ski resorts in the French Alps. The resort, as a unity of place and as a unity of action, is particularly conducive for the study of the rhythms of life in the contemporary society of leisure. We consider the daily activities of tourists, from skiing in the daytime, to the nightlife and other private times. We shall also attempt to understand the rhythms of life of people who work in a ski resort (garbage men in the morning, bakers and restaurant owners, ski guides, and barmen or night watchmen). In the age of information (Dang-N’Guyen and Créach 2011; Jorand 2002; Pirani 2011), we cannot ignore web-activities. Is the unity of place broken by the possibilities enabled by the web? Following an investigation previously carried out in Châtel, Avoriaz and in the Abondance valley, we shall employ ethnological and cultural methods to describe the different types of representations and images of these resorts. The presentation of the data in this chapter separates tourists from workers in the resort. We also make use of press articles, and the online text posted on various resort blogs: http://www.routard.com/forum, http://www.forumski.fr/station-ski, http://www.skipass.com and http://www.snow-fr.com/ forum/. Different semi-directed interviews and ethnographic observations (Copans 2008) in Châtel, in Abondance village, and in Avoriaz were also transcribed. Moreover, exchanges in Val d’Isère, Chamrousse, and L’Alpe d’Huez made it possible to supplement or update this data. From the full set of sources, a simple thematic categorical analysis with open categorization procedures was carried out (Bardin 2003). The analysis grid was composed of indicators of appreciated vs. rejected images, along with various cultural references, and types of daily activity, ranging from work, web activities (forums, Skype, Facebook, Twitter, etc.), skiing or other leisure activities, to nightlife activities and those at other private times. Avoriaz, Châtel, and the Abondance village are three samples of different resorts situated in the south-eastern end of Lake Geneva and near

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Mount Blanc. Châtel is an old Savoyard village with a long farming tradition and today with a strong tourism infrastructure. It is located on the Portes du Soleil circuit, arguably the world’s biggest lift-linked ski area, offering 650km of slopes (Simon and Paris 2007; Suchet 2009). Avoriaz is a modern resort planned in 1960s (high rise buildings with acute angles and a close similarity to the mountains that surround them). In such a place, the careful planning of tourist amenities and the management of different tourist amenities by a single operator led to these resorts being referred to as “stations intégrées” (integrated resorts). The resorts are characterised by their “functional” character and access to immense skiing areas. Today Avoriaz is one of the major French destinations for skiing and also ranks among the top snowboarding destinations of the world. The station is designed to be fully skiable, and therefore cars are forbidden in Avoriaz. Abondance is an old, small ski resort. Since the 1980s in particular, the village of Abondance has included a vast cross-country skiing area, a mountain restaurant, an ESF ski school, and a club. Abondance mainly accommodates family customers, but is also the home of some ambassadors of skiing: Didier Bouvier, winner of the bronze medal at the Winter Olympics in 1984, and Yannick and Olivia Bertrand who participate in the FIS Alpine World Ski Championships. This development of sports tourism has however experienced significant difficulties since the beginning of the 1990s, and the municipality has developed cultural tourism using the architectural heritage of the village (Gauchon 2010; Suchet, Jorand, and Raspaud 2010; Suchet and Raspaud 2010). In particular, the town contains a noted historical monument, a Gothic cloister attached to an eleventh century priory.

Tourists’ bodily rhythms in a resort: Skiing, nightlife, and facebook In theatre, the classical unities are rules for drama derived from Aristotle. In their neoclassical form, they are as follows: unity of action (a play should have one main action that it follows, with no or few subplots), unity of place (a play should cover a single physical space and should not attempt to compress geography, nor should the stage represent more than one place), and unity of time (the action in a play should take place over no more than one day). The resort, as a unity of place and as a unity of action, is particularly conducive for the study of the rhythms of life in a contemporary society of leisure. For this, different theoretical and methodological approaches exist. In France, Chardonnel (1999) has developed a quantitative method to evaluate the way these tourist resorts

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are organized. The method deals with the practices of individuals in a mountain resort with a focus on both their use of time and space. From a methodological and theoretical point of view, this approach is based on principles and concepts developed by the Swedish geographer Hägerstrand (1967) for time-geography (Chardonnel 2001; Thrift 1977). Chardonnel applied the ideas of time-geography, and different works have issued from the geography group at Lund University. Time geography deals with the study of the temporal dimension of spatial human activities. Three categories of constraints were identified by Hägerstrand: Authority (limits of accessibility to certain places or domains placed on individuals by owners or authorities), Capability (limitations on the movement of individuals, based on their nature, for example, movement is restricted by biological factors, such as the need for food, drink, and sleep), and Coupling (restraint of an individual, anchoring him or her to a location while interacting with other individuals in order to complete a task). Chardonnel presents a survey that was taken using tourists, permanent inhabitants, and seasonal workers and subjects, at the station of Valloire. “The individuals were asked to record their activities during the course of day in a diary, indicating the time and their localization.” A statistical treatment then explores a temporal database which takes into account “the sequence and the routine of the individual activities.” In constrast to Chardonnel’s quantitative methods, my study is qualitative, more closely related to the tourism geography approach of Bourdeau (2008, 2007) or Corneloup (2007). I focus on understanding the social and cultural aspects of resort life. Thus, from this more qualitative point of view, my observations of the way people spend their time at a resort shows their devotion to skiing as well as their festive life (private party, pub, bar, nightclub) and their web behaviours, especially on Facebook.1 In fact nightlife is the collective term for any entertainment that is available in the resort from the late evening into the early hours of the morning. However, the nightlife includes a very different reality: a late restaurant meal or a nightclub outing that ends in an “after party.” Thus, for some persons “the essential aspect is skiing” and “good conditions.” People get up early so that they can catch the morning skiing conditions. For these people, the bodily rhythms follow the rhythms of the snow and the fluctuations of temperature throughout the day. It is all about finding

1

A web community may take the form of a social network service, an Internet forum, a group of blogs, or another kind of social software web application. Facebook appears to be the most common application among the people that we met.

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the best conditions for skiing and the best snow, especially during February and March: Well, we usually get up early in the morning, at, let’s say, 7:30am. Of course, we don’t leave until we’ve had a good breakfast and after that we suit up. When we’re ready to go it’s almost 8:10am. No more time to lose… We start by walking up to the lift pass office and we queue up… There’s usually a long line, but once we get our ski passes2 we take the stairs to the gondola. Again, we have to wait for a little while because it’s not yet 9 o’clock. The slopes open up at 9:00am… but after that, we go up with the gondola. This usually takes about half an hour. And then the fun begins… Morning skiing is really great! … Around 3:00pm we stop because fatigue starts playing its part. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great thing to feel a little tired after so many great hours of skiing… And we also have to think about the descent, going back home, changing etc. This takes a while and we don’t want to get back too late because we want to start all over again the following day.3 Around 10:30 or 11:00 in the morning, spring snow starts to soften, to give, to relax. And skiers start to relax as well. Skiing… to pure pleasure. The window of opportunity opens wide and we jump through, guiding beautiful fast turns through yielding but solid snow that, for a few hours at least, seems to get better and better and better. … Then, not suddenly, not all at once, but immeasurably, progressively, the snow goes to hell! Afternoon changes spring snow from soft to too soft, to soggy, even to rotten, under the relentless force of the Sun. And finally we ski down to the base through a sea of slush, knowing that we should have quit an hour earlier, before the snow got so sloppy.4

For others, the ski resort is mainly a place of celebration, of meeting other people, or even debauchery. Furthermore, there are also many young people who are looking for multiple sexual relationships and therefore stay

2

These people choose to buy their ski pass cards every day because that way they can get a discount that is not available for the weekly pass card. 3 Franck, interview, December 2011. 4 Lito Tejada-Flores, interview, November 2010, available online at http://www .breakthroughonskis.com.

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up during the night and don’t ski a lot during the day-time.5 Some people are very open and give a lot of details concerning their stay: It was 9pm when I called my friends over for a drink at my place. They arrived 40 minutes late, already drunk. The 10 of us continued to drink, when a friend decided to invite more people over. I was afraid of my apartment getting trashed but I agreed in the end. Everybody was either drinking, smoking weed or playing drinking games! … Other friends were at a bar so we left to join them. On the way, a friend challenged another friend to strip naked in the snow, who accepted the challenge after downing the rest of his drink. We arrived at the bar Le Ptit Dan right at closing time, but managed to get a round of drinks for everyone. At that point it was already 1:48am, and we had a lengthy discussion about the next destination of the night. We finally decided on the MBC nightclub, where we met some German people while waiting in line to enter. Once inside, we bought a 120€ bottle to share amongst us all. It was expensive but we didn’t have much choice! Afterwards I started dancing with some of the German women we met earlier while waiting in line. Yeah! The group of women seemed interested enough, and we started kissing as things started to heat up. By the time we exit the club, it’s 4:30am, and I’m totally drunk. I wanted to go home with the German girl I was with but she did not want to sleep with me. … Disappointed, I tried calling my friends until one picked up, who happened to be smoking a joint with another friend in some stairwell. I went to join them and we chatted about what had happened that night. Some of my other friends were passed out drunk in the stairwell. At some point I passed out too, and only woke up the next morning at 8am, when a cleaning lady chased us out “sortez d’ici.” We went home to continue sleeping, the next time I woke up was at 1:30 in the afternoon. … After some food I phoned a friend to find out who was interested in going skiing later on.6

In the evening, tourists log on to Facebook, but the unity of place is not really broken by web communication, in that data flows outwards. Indeed, they don’t gather information from the outside world, they don’t really chat with their friends and families. They don’t ask for news about others but rather give news about themselves. They show that they are on ski holidays. In all these cases, the everyday rhythm of the tourist during a winter holiday is an important element. 5

On this topic, Soulé (2004) presents the risk of this situation with a number of accidents that occur each year due to a nocturnal lifestyle inappropriate to mountain activities. 6 Seb, interview, December 2011.

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Workers, sociability, and the rhythm of the season Winter sports tourism is highly concentrated both temporally and spatially. Regardless of summer mountain activities, which are another subject, or some high altitude resorts that open in summer, tourism is a seasonal activity, that is to say an economic sector in which the majority of operations take place only during a short part of the year. For seasonal workers, conditions can be difficult (working hours, job insecurity, exiguous housing, commuting from the valley, the legal minimum for medical insurance, etc.), but pay rates are sometimes higher than normal wages in a comparable permanent position. Seasonal work is a status which has the advantages and disadvantages of freedom (Ainsworth and Purss 2009; Bourdeau 2010; Gachet 2001). Concerning the social networks, seasonal workers use Facebook less than tourists. As one worker says, “ouais… Facebook, on a pas trop le temps en saison” [yeah… Facebook, you don’t have much time during the season]. Of those who do use it, many use web forums and Facebook for job hunting at the beginning of winter. Qualitatively, seasonal workers’ testimonies are very different. Some, such as ski instructors, have schedules similar to those of holiday makers, while others such as night watchmen work very contrasting hours. The general theme of rhythms concerns the body, but also the relationship between private and professional life and life career development. The social interactions between people also depend on the season, the number and the type of tourists in the resort. People of the village build relationships with tourists. Indeed, with skiing tourism, some families profit from the winter seasons by making more or less important links with vacationers who remain loyal to them. This is particularly the case in Châtel. On the contrary, in the bottom of the Abondance valley the turnover of visitors makes these links impossible. For example, the local policy of heritage tourism in Abondance has developed a fear of loss of social contact for certain villagers (Suchet and Raspaud 2010). Without claiming to be a representative study, one can note the presence of this concern among traders, families, and young people. “What is good about skiing, is that many families return year after year, it’s neighbours, and for children it’s buddies, while there… there will be a bus tour organized for an afternoon, then another… it will not build any relationship as it will become a kind of stopping-place.”7 The rejected image of the village as a “stopping-place” as opposed to a “destination” supports this fear of lack of sociability. 7

Philippe, father of family, shopkeeper in Abondance, interview, December 2007.

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Finally, with the help of the conceptualization provided by Durand (1992), it is possible to study the social and cultural rhythms of mountain tourism imaginaries. The imaginary, or social imaginary, is the creative and symbolic dimension of the social world. Effectively, a number of people we met evoked the feelings of festivity, playfulness, and near eroticism which characterizes the ski resort. It seems that the imaginary holidays in the mountains rub off a little on the villagers, especially among the younger people. Far from the imaginary “hard” high mountain dweller (Bozonnet 1992), the ski season for many families involved in the tourism industry represents an island of pleasure in mountain, a Center Parcs8 of the mountains. Like the myth of the “beautiful ski guide,” young people of the resort fantasize about the arrival of female vacationers “from the north.” The opening of the ski season is associated with the organization of private parties and nightclub openings. “When you work in the residences there are many foreign groups, for two years I was working at Plein Soleil [a hotel residence in Abondance], every night we would hang out.” “The ski season, here it’s a little what everybody expects, because in the winter time, it’s not fun, it’s a pain in the ass to drive, you have to bring everything inside. But it makes it better thanks to ski and the arrival of tourists, we feel like we were on vacation too.”9 For some people, it is the “Snow, Sex and Sun,” a reference to the more traditional “Sea, Sex and Sun”: “You can easily get babes in this resort! There’s no one here in the summer whereas in the winter there are lots of people.” Much follows from the relationship of the ski season to family life, especially to the enjoyment of the children. An atmosphere of family meals, ski school (the classes de neiges), and moments of adolescence. Explicitly, several interviews include references to Patrice Leconte’s film Les Bronzés font du ski.10 A ski lift operator said: “It’s been ten years that I have been working here, and there has not been one single winter when a ski lift stops that I don’t hear at least one time the song Quand te reverrais-je, pays merveilleux… Everyone loves it… it’s obvious that it marks everyone.”11 In contrast to these affectionate images, summer tourism and cultural heritage are associated with the terms of “old age,” “religion,” “sadness” 8

Center Parcs are holiday villages incorporating subtropical swimming. Informal interviews with adolescents and young people in the village, December 2007 and February 2008. 10 Les Bronzés font du ski (French Fried Vacation 2) is a well-known 1979 French comedy that takes place in a ski resort. In a scene of the film a ski lift stops, and the character sings: “Quand te reverrais-je, pays merveilleux … .” 11 Informal interviews with young people in the village, December 2007 and February 2008. 9

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or “death.”12 This is particularly the case in Abondance valley where the municipality has developed cultural tourism using the architectural heritage of the village (in particular the Gothic cloister). The remark posted by a blogger on the website of the municipality of Abondance, whose updates are infrequent, summarizes the concerns: “Abondance without skiing makes Abondance like this Blog: dead.” For many, the murals in the cloister are not exciting and represent only the possibility of becoming a “site for old men,” a “crossroads of retirement homes.” In all interviews, heritage tourism is effectively attached to the imagination of old age, as if seniority of place necessarily corresponded to seniority of public and images. It is the imaginary of death (Durand 1992; and for another case of fantasies of death in tourism see MIT 2005, 98–105). Many young people also explicitly proclaim: “Heritage is just for old people!” and “the liturgical objects… uh… well it’s old rubbish” (response to the investigation about the museum collection).13 In this context, the rejection of heritage is the rejection of both the artifacts (the church, the cloister, the museum of sacred art objects) and also of the public who are attracted by the cultural tourism.

Conclusions The chapter analyzes the bodily and social rhythms of tourists and residents in ski resorts in the French Alps. The text reports the research done on this subject within the Institute of Alpine Geography at the University of Grenoble in France. It was here that the pioneering works of Gumuchian (1983) and Guérin (1984) were written and published. They initiated the transition from the rural studies of mountains towards studies of mountain tourism. Their work deals with tourism, leisure, and winter sports. Later, at the end of the 1990s, the quantitative approach adopted by Chardonel brought new light to this topic. Inspired by time-geography, Chardonnel and van der Knaap (2002) believe that their research can lead to “a better knowledge of spatial distribution and frequent usage over time” of such areas that can give evidence to “phenomena like saturation, imbalance or poor circulation.” The work of Chardonel (1999) addresses the redevelopment and re-use of buildings and urban structures within tourist resorts that are located in the French Alps. She aims to link and 12 Results of a co-occurrence analysis from the word “heritage.” (An analysis of terms which precede and follow the word heritage. The terms listed include multiple synonymous terms, as church, cloister, culture, museum, liturgical objects, and historical monument). 13 Interviews with young people in the village, December 2007 and February 2008.

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optimize the facilities of the existing buildings with the practices of individuals who visit the resorts today. In accordance with the tourism geography approach of Bourdeau (2008, 2007) or Corneloup (2007), my study focuses mainly on understanding social and cultural relations between people in such places.14 From this approach, the resort, as a unity of place and as a unity of action, is particularly conducive for the study of the rhythms of life in a contemporary society of leisure. Concerning social networks, tourists use Facebook to display that they are on ski holidays, but the unity of place is not really broken by web communication. Furthermore, this research also aims to understand the multiple social dimensions of representations and fantasies of mountain tourism. Results highlight the social and cultural geography of mountain tourism fantasies.

References Ainsworth, S., and A. Purss. 2009. “Same time, next year? Human resource management and seasonal workers.” Personnel Review 38, no. 3: 217–235. Bardin, L. 2003. L’analyse de contenu. Paris: Presses universitaires de France. Bourdeau, P., ed. 2007. Les sports d’hiver en mutation. Paris: Lavoisier. —. 2010. “Métiers de la montagne. Le statut de la liberté?” L’Alpe 50: 8–12. —. 2008. “Les défis environnementaux et culturels des stations de montagne: Une approche à partir du cas français.” Téoros 27, no. 2: 23–30. Boyer, M. 2000. Histoire de l’invention du tourisme. La Tour d’Aigues: L’Aube. —. ed. 2009. Les Savoyards et le Tourisme depuis l’Annexion. Montmélian: La Fontaine de Siloé. Bozonnet, J.-P. 1992. Des monts et des mythes. Grenoble: Presses universitaires de Grenoble.

14

All ski resorts in the French Alps are places with history, memory and significance. This is evident for small ski villages, but we must allow that it is also true for large modern resorts such as Tignes, La Plagne, Avoriaz, Val Thorens, etc. As Chevallier (1996) said, these urban achievements in mountain areas are “the fruit of an imaginary and a culture. They bear witness to a modern mythology deeply rooted in the socioculural fabric of the twentieth century.” The well-known expressions petite station familial (small family resort), or domaine skiable grand ski (vast ski area) recall, correctly, that the type of tourism is also relative to the type of place.

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Chardonnel, S. 1999. Emplois du temps et de l’espace, pratiques des populations d’une station touristique de montagne. Ph. D. diss., University of Grenoble 1, Grenoble. —. 2001. “La time-geography: les individus dans le temps et dans l’espace.” In Modèles en analyse spatiale, edited by L. Sanders, 129– 156. Paris: Hermès. Chardonnel, S., and W. G. van der Knaap. 2002. “Managing Tourist TimeSpace Movements in Recreational Areas.” Journal of Alpine Research 90, no. 1: 37–48, vi. Chevallier, M. 1996. “Paroles de modernité: Pour une relecture culturelle de la station de sports d’hiver.” Revue de géographie alpine 84, no. 3: 29–39. Copans, J. 2008. L’enquête et ses méthodes. L’enquête ethnologique de terrain. Paris: Armand Colin. Corneloup, J. 2007. “Ambiance et univers culturels dans les stations de sports d’hiver.” In Les sports d’hiver en mutation, edited by P. Bourdeau, 183–193. Paris: Lavoisier. Dang-N’Guyen, G., and P. Créach, eds. 2011. Recherches sur la société du numérique et ses usages. Paris: L’Harmattan. Dumazedier, J. 1967. Toward a Society of Leisure. New York: Free Press. Durand, G. 1992. Les structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire. Paris: Dunod. Gachet, C. 2001. Les travailleurs saisonniers des stations de sports d’hiver: bilan et perspectives. MA diss., Institut d’Études Politiques de Grenoble, Grenoble. Gauchon, C. 2002. “Le tourisme dans les Alpes: Pratiques, aménagement et protection.” In Les montagnes, edited by É. Bordessoule, 153–182. Nantes: Éditions du Temps. —. 2010. “Territoires ‘dé-touristifiés’ des montagnes françaises: quels enseignements?” In Tourismes, patrimoines, identités, territoires, edited by C. Bataillou, 473–484. Perpignan: Presses universitaires de Perpignan. Guérin, J.-P. 1984. L’aménagement de la montagne: politiques, discours et productions d’espaces. Paris: Ophrys. Gumuchian, H. 1983. La neige dans les Alpes françaises du Nord. Grenoble: Éditions des Cahiers de l’Alpe. Hägerstrand, T. 1967. Innovation Diffusion as a Spatial Process. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Jorand, D. 2002. “Entre utopie et catastrophisme, un témoignage sur quelques pratiques actuelles de l’Internet.” Loisir et Société 25, no. 1: 55–74.

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MIT. 2005. Tourismes 2: Moments de lieux. Paris: Belin. Pirani, B. M., ed. 2011. Learning from Memory: Body, Memory and Technology in a Globalizing World. Newcastle Upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Rolland, V. 2006. Attractivité des stations de sport d’hiver: reconquête des clientèles et compétitivité internationale. Report to the Prime Minister Dominique De Villepin. Simon, A., and F. Paris. 2007. “Typologie des stations de ski des Portes du Soleil.” Revue Espaces 254: 46–53. Soulé, B. 2004. Sports d’hiver et sécurité: De l’analyse des risques aux enjeux de leur gestion. Paris: L’Harmattan. Suchet, A. 2009. “Sports d’hiver, agrotourisme et tourisme patrimonial dans le Haut-Chablais: chronique d’un rendez-vous manqué?” In Les Savoyards et le tourisme depuis l’Annexion, edited by M. Boyer, 279– 293. Montmélian: La Fontaine de Siloé. Suchet, A., D. Jorand, and M. Raspaud. 2010. “Station village d’Abondance: De la (non)influence du réchauffement climatique sur la fermeture du domaine skiable.” Revue Espaces 280: 16–21. Suchet, A., and M. Raspaud. 2010. “A Case of Local Rejection of a Heritage Tourism Policy: Tourism and Dynamics of Change in Abondance, French Alps.” International Journal of Heritage Studies 16, no. 6: 449–463. Thrift, N. 1977. An Introduction to Time Geography. Norwich: Geo Abstracts Publications. Tuppen, J. 2002. “Recent Developments in Alpine Tourism: A Life-cycle Approach.” Turyzm 12, no. 2: 79–93.

PART III BODILY RHYTHMS, SYNCHRONIZATION, AND EMERGENT STRUCTURE

CHAPTER NINE SYNCHRONIZING MOVEMENT AND PERCEPTION: DETERMINANTS AND PREDICTORS OF BODY-SENSE ANABELA PEREIRA

The sharing of bodily experiences, whether in face-to-face interactions or through individual practices, can influence a person’s psychological and physical well-being. The mediating mechanisms influencing body-sense through time are, however, poorly understood. The present study concerns these mechanisms and how movement can have an impact on such a bodily sense. Through a variety of variables defining movement, such as strength, balance, technique, energy, flexibility, coordination, resistance, and velocity, this analysis measures the impact of movement in body-sense understood as the human ability to feel and experience the body in all its essence and aspects. This analysis shows that it is meaningfully possible to improve body perception in the presence of movement, and that people using their bodies in an active way are more aware of that sense than others who do not perform such actions. Using a regression analysis and measuring the presence (or absence) of those variables between different individuals practicing different physical activities, this analysis shows how synchronicity between “movement” and “body,” people’s habits, and “common rituals,” affects their body-sense. Keywords: Body-sense; Movement; Regression Analysis

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Introduction A profusion of scientific evidence now confirms that the regular practice of physical activity brings unquestionable health benefits to people of all ages, affecting both their psychological and physical wellbeing. The mediating mechanisms influencing body-sense through time are, however, poorly understood. The present study concerns these mechanisms and how movement can have an impact on this body-sense. My aim in this chapter is to investigate whether people who use exercise as a “common rhythm,” i.e., on a regular basis, experience bodysense more accurately than others. This idea has advanced as part of a comprehensive sociological theory that strives to understand the meaning of human actions. Notably, the phenomenological assumption defended by Merleau-Ponty (1994) is that human actions are embodied through sensation and perception. This claim makes movement central to all human orientation in space and time. In addition, similar conceptions about the body are upheld by observations from health and sports science and corroborated by empirical evidence that shows how people’s habits and daily rhythms have an effect on their individual experience and awareness of their bodies. To investigate this hypothesis, I designed a twenty-two question survey and distributed it online to approximately 1,200 individuals, attracting 202 respondents, of which 164 were subsequently coded for analysis. Several variables were used to define movement—strength, balance, flexibility, coordination, resistance, and speed.1 All of this information was then analyzed to measure the impact of movement on body-sense, defined as the ability to feel and experience the body in all its essence and aspects. As the aim was to demonstrate how the presence of movement is associated with a stronger individual body-sense, I used a Multiple Regression Analysis to identify the determinants (e.g., gender, the practice of physical activity/exercise, practice of physical activity/exercise over a number of years, and movement indexes) of body-sense and to measure the impact (effect) of movement on it. A Binary Logistic Regression was then used to identify the best predictors and to estimate the values of bodysense when this takes the form of a binary categorical variable (strong sense of the body; weak sense of the body).

1

These concepts define what is usually called “motor skills,” and the means of individuals’ responses were then used to transform them into “movement indexes.”

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Defining movement Movement is defined as all changes in body performance undertaken by individuals in their day-to-day actions or practices, affecting their consciousness of the situations and of themselves in different contexts and over time. Moreover, movement is defined as the human ability through which individuals use all the body’s physical and cognitive functions (through motor capacities) including gestures and other body movements to perform actions like walking, swimming, running, climbing stairs, standing, bending down, sitting, etc. In this context, it is important to distinguish between the concepts of physical activity and exercise; although they have been used interchangeably, they have two different meanings. Firstly, physical activity has been defined as any bodily movement produced by skeletal muscles that results in energy expenditure (Caspersen 1985),2 and includes activities of all intensities; therefore, things such as housework, gardening, and occupational activity may all be considered types of physical activity. On the other hand, exercise is considered a “subcategory” of physical activity and has been defined as planned, structured, and repetitive movements which result in the improvement and/or maintenance of one or more facets of physical fitness (cardiovascular fitness, muscular strength and endurance, body composition, and/or flexibility). This means all exercise is considered physical activity, but not all physical activity is considered exercise. Thus, it is essential to identify the ideal quantity, frequency, and intensity of physical activity to create good practices so as to construct good intervention programs that minimize and control problems related to functional decline above all in the elderly (Rabacow et al. 2006); indeed, most research focuses on this area. In general, studies demonstrate an inverse relation between the level of physical activity and mortality (Paffenbarger et al. 1991, cited in Matsudo et al. 2004). In fact, it has been shown that the risk of death from heart disease is reduced by 40% when the person ceases to be sedentary; this demonstrates that a small change in 2

Total Energy Expenditure is the total amount of energy (measured in kilocalories) that is expended over a specific time period (usually measured over a 24 hour period). There are three major components of Total Energy Expenditure, namely, basal metabolic rate, thermo-effect of food, and physical activity. For example, the contribution that physical activity makes to total energy expenditure is greater for active individuals than for their sedentary counterparts (Ravussin and Bogardus 1992).

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lifestyle can greatly improve health and quality of life.3 In the field of mental health, exercise helps regulate substances related to the nervous system, improving blood flow to the brain; this leads to a better ability to deal with problems and stress, reduces anxiety and nervous tension and therefore helps treat depression. Moreover, it also assists in maintaining and recovering self-esteem. Thus, physical activity can also affect an individual’s social life, both in the workplace and at home (Casperson et al. 1991; Sesso et al. 2000; Welk 2002; Dishman et al. 2004; Matsudo et al. 2001; Weineck 2005; Montti 2005).

Motor skills Motor capacity is an attribute or overall quality of individual performance related to a variety of skills or tasks which can be developed by training or physical activity (Magill 2000). It is believed that although motor skills are genetically determined, they cannot be quantified (it is not known to what extent a person can develop speed or flexibility). Furthermore, it is very unlikely that motor skills in sports will be required in their pure form and they usually manifest themselves in association with each other. Generically, motor skills can be divided into “conditional” and “coordinative” motor skills. The former are linked to the metabolic process and are determined by obtaining and processing energy, namely strength, speed, resistance, and flexibility; the latter are essentially determined by the processes of motor control and the regulation of the 3

It is estimated that physical inactivity is the cause of 10-16% of breast, colon, and rectum cancer, as well as diabetes mellitus, and about 22% of ischemic heart disease. The risk of having a cardiovascular disease increases 1.5 times in people who do not follow the minimum recommendations for physical activity. The number of obese and overweight people is rising rapidly in both developed and developing countries, and this is also found among the younger population. For these reasons physical activity is, along with a healthy diet, the key to weight control (Montti 2005). It is also known that more than 60% of adults worldwide do not engage in sufficient levels of physical activity beneficial to their health. Physical inactivity is more prevalent in women, the elderly, individuals of low socio-economic groups, and the disabled. There has also been a decrease in physical activity and physical education programmes in schools around the world. Equally, it is known that physical activity helps improve strength and muscle tone and flexibility; in the case of children, it can help develop psychomotor skills; it also helps weight loss and lowering body fat percentage, reducing resting blood pressure, lowering total cholesterol and increasing HDL-cholesterol (“good cholesterol”) (Montti 2005; Matsudo et al. 2004).

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central nervous system, and are thus the basis for learning and performing, (Magill 2000). In conditional motor skills, strength is the ability to react against something and allows resistance through muscular contraction. This permits jumping, pushing, lifting, pulling, among other things. Strength can either be developed generally (i.e., the aim is to develop all muscle groups), or a specific group or groups of muscles characterizing each type of gesture can be focussed on. Speed is “the ability to perform a movement in the shortest time possible” (Magill 2000). Resistance is the ability to withstand and recover from mental and above all physical fatigue. It can be general (when it requires more than 1/6 of the muscle mass; this is limited by the cardio-respiratory system), and specific (when it requires less than 1/6 of total muscle mass; this is generally determined by strength, and anaerobic capacity) (Magill 2000). Flexibility is an individual’s ability to go through an entire range of extensive movements either alone or with assistance (e.g., from a physiotherapist). It can be general (i.e., the amplitude of fluctuations in normal joints especially in major joints like the shoulder, hip, and spine), or specific (i.e., the amplitude necessary to perform specific movements of each modality). Flexibility is the ability to develop the motor possibilities of moving and articulating the body as widely as possible (Magill 2000). On the other hand, “coordinative motor skills” are divided into groups such as the following: capacity of association, differentiation capacity, ability to balance, ability for speed, orientation capacity, reaction capacity, ability to change, adaptability, ability to regulate body movements, and motor learning capacity (Magill 2000). For this analysis, we considered the broad concept of “coordination” so as to incorporate all these aspects, because whether they are more subjective or contingent, they are more difficult for a person to evaluate alone without using specific tests (it was later decided to add “balance” as a “control” variable), besides having used the conditional motor skills as previously explained.

Methods and variables The questionnaire is the most commonly used method for evaluating physical activity and energy expenditure; it can reach large populations, involves low costs, and can be administered quickly. Questionnaires on a population’s physical activity levels must provide mechanisms to identify

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the various forms of movement, whether in the context of domestic activities, leisure, exercise training, or activities at work. The existing surveys and instruments commonly related to physical activity are: IPAQ (International Physical Activity Questionnaire), CHAMPS, ZUPTHEN, PASE, BAECKE, and YPAS.4 The central characteristic of these instruments measuring physical activity is (with the exception of BAECKE and IPAQ) that all were developed to evaluate physical activity in old people. PASE was used to monitor changes in physical activity and measure the cardiovascular response to regular physical activity in the elderly. The CHAMPS questionnaire was developed to provide measures of physical activity to assess the result of a model programme for the elderly and was first used in an intervention program in 1997. ZUTPHEN and YALE were also developed to be used with the elderly in 1960 and 1988 respectively; the former was used to measure risk factors in chronic diseases and the latter to evaluate physical activity in epidemiological studies. Recently, there has been a long and a short form of IPAQ which was developed as an international instrument to measure physical activity (Rabacow et al. 2006, 102–103). The IPAQ measures physical activity in time by days per week, and hours and minutes per day respectively, and it usually compares or relates quantity, intensity, and frequency of physical activity with other measures such as body mass index, or functional decline in elderly and sedentary lifestyles.5

4

See Rabacow et al. 2006 for a clear account of the use of these instruments, their reliability, and validity. 5 The IPAQ was developed in 1998 at a meeting in Geneva between the World Health Organization, the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention in the U.S.A, and the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, in order to develop and test an instrument for measuring physical activity for international use. In 2006, seven studies were conducted using this instrument (Rabacow 2006, 101). Although, like other instruments, it was intended for application in a population between 15 and 69 years, (e.g., CHAMPS, ZUPTHEN, PASE, BAECKE, YPAS) it was mainly used with the elderly (ibid.). Despite the number of studies on IPAQ all over the world attempting to validate it, the majority reveal that comparisons with other instruments, like opinion polls or governmental statistics, are difficult due to methodological differences. However, IPAQ seems to have advantages in this field, because it is internationally recognized and is already validated to some countries. On the other hand, there have also been some limitations related to the self-administered format of the IPAQ, since, when answering it, people tend to overestimate their positions on the items presented; furthermore, when applied to the same individuals, differences were observed between its long and short forms (see for example, Biernat et al. 2008, 49).

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These questionnaires have generally been used with specific groups of elderly; although the IPAQ is the easiest to administer, even the short version is very long and difficult when used with large populations (Ibid.: 104). As this study was not aimed at determining a population’s physical activity level, an original self-administered measuring instrument was developed based on the previous assumptions, and generally inspired by the five dimensions of IPAQ.6 This choice allowed us to incorporate people who did not practice sports regularly and compare them with the regular practitioners. Accordingly, the twenty-two question survey was divided into three parts: first, the demographics of the subject and the regularity (or not) of their physical activity (types, frequency, and duration); second, body performance (such as in sports and other daily physical activities) and body-sense (when performing these activities). Lastly, the third part is about body-sense, illness, or incapacity (absence or limitation of movement). Not all of these can be considered here because of the small number of cases reporting disabilities or diseases.7 Movement was measured through motor skills: balance, speed, strength, resistance, flexibility, and coordination (considered before and after starting the practice of physical activity/regular exercise and in the practice of other daily activities); and through body performance, by comparing its value at the start and at the end of the physical activity or regular exercise. This allowed a comparison of body-sense at different stages of the physical activity. In my analysis of these questions, I used a Multiple Linear Regression8 model to study body-sense according to five independent variables: Yi = ȕ0 + ȕ1 X 1i + ȕ2 X2i + ȕ3 X3i + ȕ4 X42i + ȕ5 X5i + İi. Yi is body-sense; ȕ0 is the intercept; B1, B2 … B5 are the regression partial coefficients between each of the variables Xi and Y when the effects of other variables Xi are controlled (being X1 gender, X2 the number of years practicing exercise, 6

The five IPAQ dimensions are: time spent in job- related physical activity; time spent in physical activity related with means of travel and daily transportation; time spent in physical activity related to housework, house maintenance and caring for family; time spent in physical activity related to recreation, leisure and sports; and time spent sitting. 7 Only about 8% of the total respondents stated they had some sort of illness or physical disability, such as back problems, lower back complaints or migraines. 8 This multivariate analysis technique is useful when we have many independent (or explanatory) variables and want to find a value for a dependent variable. Binary logistic is similar to linear regression, but applicable to models where the dependent variable is dichotomous (see, for instance Maroco 2007).

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X3 the movement index before beginning to exercise, X4 the movement index after beginning to exercise, X5 the movement index in the practice of other daily activities); and İ is the error term. A Binary Logistic Regression model was then applied (using dependent variable body-sense (Y) as dichotomous weak body-sense/strong bodysense) and as independent variables X1 age, X2 gender, X3 practice of exercise, X4 body-performance in the practice of other activities, and X5 body performance in the practice of exercise and other activities.

Analysis and findings We analyzed 164 surveys (using SPSS software, version 17) that were distributed online to a non-probabilistic and convenience sample of the Portuguese population in November 2011. A total of 107 (65.2%) respondents were female and the average age at the time of the survey was 38 years and ranged from 13 to 67 years old. About 50% were specialists in intellectual and scientific professions (mainly teachers), 17.1% were technicians and medium level professionals, and 16.5% were students. From the total sample, 56 (34.1%) individuals stated they did no physical exercise and 108 (65.9%) individuals reported exercising regularly. Of these, 50.9% said they had exercised for more than five years, approximately 46.2% reported exercising two to three times a week, and roughly 98% declared they intended to continue practicing this type of exercise. The kinds of physical activity reported varied between walking (approximately 17.5%), jogging (approx. 8%), fitness training (approx. 27%), swimming (approx. 15%), yoga (5.5%), football (approx. 5%), gymnastics (approx. 3%), cycling (approx. 5%), step (approx. 3%), Pilates (3%), several other types (10%); and about 95% reported doing more than one activity. Considering the total sample of 164 individuals, 24% reported illness, 22% reported regular exercise, 11% reported disability, and about 3% reported sexual activity. Approximately 6.5% reported “other situations” in which body-sense or consciousness of the body is also more evident, such as the use of massage or relaxation techniques (approximately 5%), or looking at themselves in a mirror, and while trying on clothing (1.2%). There were several other frequently mentioned kinds of physical activity that coincided with undertaking other daily activities. Under the heading of commuting and travel, 57% mentioned “walking”; while in the home, about 46% reported various domestic chores such as cleaning,

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carrying groceries, playing with children, and gardening. Under the heading of work/job, moving around when conducting their work was the most reported situation (13%), followed by remaining standing for many hours, transporting objects from one place to another (approximately 10%), and going up and down stairs (9%). About 18% stated that their work did not involve any type of physical activity.

Scales applied The regular practice of physical activity/ exercise was measured in terms of duration (number of months/years) on an ordinal scale with five different categories: less than 3 months, 3 to 6 months, 1 to 2 years, 2 to 5 years, more than 5 years; and in terms of frequency (number of times per week): once a week, 2–3 times per week, 3–4 times per week, 5 or more times per week, only at the week-end. Body performance (movement) and body-sense (awareness) were analyzed by making use of a Likert scale, consisting of categories that describe respectively the use of body movements and the perception of one’s body, ranging from 1 (Poor) to 5 (Excellent) in two situations: the practice of regular exercise, and the practice of other physical activities throughout the day. Body performance (movement) was measured using six variables— balance, speed, strength, flexibility, resistance, and coordination— measured on the Likert scale; the categories describing the individual’s body performance in relation to these variables ranged from 1 (Poor) to 5 (Excellent) and should be marked in three stages: given the body performance before and after the onset of physical exercise, and when doing other physical activities throughout the day. On analysis, the internal consistency between the values of the above variables (balance, speed, strength, flexibility, resistance and coordination) proved quite good before (Cronbach’s alpha = 0.819), and after physical activity (Cronbach’s alpha = 0.853) and when doing other physical activities throughout the day (Cronbach’s alpha = 0.907); then a composite variable (mean of these variables) was constructed, designated as a movement index (before, after and when doing other physical activities).9

9

The construction of the two Movement Indexes before and after PA/RE practice required the condition if PA/RE Practice = 1, because they were the only ones who could answer questions on body performance during regular physical exercise. As for the construction of the Movement Index when doing other daily physical activities, all individuals were included.

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Subsequently, the wide-ranging body-sense (BS)10 variable was created from the sum of the following variable values: sense of the body when exercising and when doing other activities divided by the total number of observations for each individual. Also using the same procedure, a general body performance variable (GBP) was created, which brings together the body performance when exercising and body performance when doing other activities. The evolution of body performance was also measured using a 4-point Likert scale; its categories describe how individuals consider their body performance to have evolved from the start of the referred physical activity to the time of the interview. The categories went from 1 (unchanged), to 2 (little), 3 (some), and 4 (a lot).11

Comparative analysis by gender, and by the practice (or not) of physical activity/ractivity/regular exercise (Pa/Er) From the comparative analysis by gender in the total sample, no significant differences were found between the average age of men and women (approximately 38 years for both genders: t (162) = 0.181; p > 0.05). In relation to the “practice of physical activity/exercise regularly or not,” the analysis revealed statistically significant differences between individuals. Those who did physical activity/regular exercise (PA/RE) were, on average, 4.33 years older than the individuals who did not (39 versus 35 years old) (t = 2.131; p < 0.05). Of those who reported doing PA/RE, the average age difference between men and women was 2.219 (the average age for women was 40 years whereas that of men was 38). Of those who said they did not do PA/RE, women were on average 5 years younger than men (33 versus 39 years respectively), although observed differences did not prove statistically significant (p = 0.328 and p = 0.192). It was also found that the average age of the women who engaged in exercise is statistically higher than of the women who do not exercise (40 versus 33 years old; t (105) = 2.746; p < 0.01). For men, there are no significant differences between those who do PA/ER and those who do not (average age of approximately 39 years; t (55) = 0.177; p > 0.05). 10

Used in regression analysis as dependent variable. Thus, this question on the evolution of body performance was answered only by persons who responded “yes” to the question “Do you do a physical activity/regular exercise?” 11

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The analysis of the association between the variables defining the individual’s body performance (also used to calculate the movement index: balance, flexibility, strength, speed, resistance, and coordination), by gender (see table 1) revealed that the variables were related to each other in both males and females; the resistance-flexibility pair in males was the exception to this. In women, the relationship between speed and flexibility proved the weakest (r = 0.29). The statistically significant correlations were positive indicating the following tendency: when one given variable increases, all other variables also increase (coefficient between r = 0.29 and r = 0.69). This indicates moderate relationships between these variables for both men and women. Speed Balance Speed Strength Flexibility Resistance

Female Male

Strength

Flexibility

Resistance

Coordination

**

**

**

.396**

.699**

.526**

.337*

.498**

.602**

**

**

**

.411**

.039

.346*

.463

.478

Female

.562

.290

Male

.559**

.541**

.408**

.472**

**

**

.391**

.650**

.339*

**

.531**

.230

.412**

Female Male

.406

.342*

Female Male Female

Male ** Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (1-tailed). * Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (1-tailed)

.510 .513

.363

.458** .469**

Table 9-1: Correlation Coefficients between the Variables that define Body Performance, by gender (Kendall’s tau-b correlation) On analyzing Body-Sense by gender when individuals did PA/RE, there were no statistically significant differences between the mean values of this variable for women (3.31 points) and men (3.43 points) (t (93) = 0.569; p > 0.05).

Analysis of movement and body-sense Body performance values of between 1 and 5 were observed for the practice of regular exercise (N = 96), with a mean value of 3.14 (median value of 3 points). It was found that 54.2% of individuals considered they

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have a good body performance and 60.4% felt that it changed considerably (mean value 3.15 and median value of 3 points); on the other hand, 2.1% of individuals felt that their body performance had remained unchanged from the start of regular exercise to the time of the questionnaire. A mean value of 3.35 and median of 3 points is observed for bodysense in relation to the practice of PA/RE. Most individuals (40.0%) said they had good body-sense (average between 3.5 and 4 points) and 31.6% said it was very good (average between 4 and 4.5 points). As shown in figure 9-1, individuals who reported a greater change of body performance from the start of physical activity practice to the time of the questionnaire are also those who said they had a greater body-sense.

Figure 9-1: Body-Sense according to changes in Body Performance when starting to practice exercise (mean)

Values of between 1 and 5 were observed for the practice of other daily physical activities, with a mean values of 3.04 (median of 3 points); in other words, from the valid cases for this question (N = 129), 48.1% of individuals considered they had a good body performance during such activities. As for body-sense in relation to engaging in these activities, average values of 3.15 and median of 3 points were observed, i.e., 43.3% of individuals said they had a good awareness of their body in this situation.

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The analysis of the individual’s body performance (BP) before and after the start of regular PA/RE revealed statistically significant averages between the variables (r = -0.467; p < 0.001). That is, the BP after PA/RE is on average 0.96 points higher in relation to the BP before PA/RE (t (95) = -12.485; p < 0.001). In the analysis of individual BP when doing PA/RE compared with BP when doing other daily activities, significant differences were observed between the averages (r = 0.960; p < 0.001). This means that the difference in BP when the individual does PA/RE is on average 0.27 points higher in relation to when doing other daily activities (t (128) = 1.303; p < 0.01). Following the analysis of the association (Pearson correlation) between body-sense and body performance (these variables are statistically correlated: r (149) = 0.771; p < 0.001), we examined body-sense when individuals have regular exercise and when they do only other activities. The analysis revealed that individuals who exercise regularly have, on average, a stronger (average 3.32 points) body-sense than individuals who just do another kind of daily physical activity, where an average of 2.84 is observed. This difference is statistically significant (t (147) = 3.272; p < 0.001). The analysis of body-sense by group given the duration of PA/RE in number of years, tested using the simple parametric variance (One-Way ANOVA), revealed that on average those who had done PA/RE for less than 3 months were the ones with least awareness of their body (average 2.44). Those who had done PA/RE for over five years showed a greater sense (awareness) of their body, with an average of 3.57. The intermediate groups presented averages between 3 and 3.42 points and statistically significant differences were observed between groups (F (4.90) = 3.719; p < 0.05). Thus, the groups responsible for these differences were the groups of individuals who had done PA/RE for less than 3 months versus those who had done PA/RE for over 5 years (Scheffe and Tukey: p < 0.05). Turning to the practice of PA/RE in number of times per week (figure 9-2), the analysis of body-sense by group revealed that individuals who stated they did PA/RE five or more times per week were those with the highest mean values of body-sense (3.67 points). Respondents who stated they did PA/RE only on weekends were the ones with the lowest values for body-sense (3.00 points). However, there were no statistically significant values between groups (F (4. 88) = 0.778; p > 0.05) (Scheffe and Tukey: p > 0.05).

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Figure 9-2: Body Sense when doing exercise, by number of times per week (mean).

Determinants of Body-Sense Considering only gender and duration of physical activity in number of years as independent variables to estimate body-sense, we obtained a correlation coefficient of 0.344 (R2 = 0.119) with a statistically significant model (F (2.73) = 4.914; p < 0.01). When the other independent variables described in table 9-2 were included, the quality of the model increased, with this set of variables explaining 34.9% of the body-sense variation. This model proved to be adequate (F (5.70) = 9.056; p < 0.001). The duration (number of years) and gender variables of practice of physical activity explained 11.9% of the body-sense (p < 0.01). It is estimated that women have on average less body-sense (ȕ = -0.051)12 than men, although this difference is not significant (p > 0.05). 12 The Beta coefficient, presented in the table, enables the effects of the independent variables on the dependent variable to be compared, when these have

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It is estimated that if the duration of exercising increases in number of years, there is a 0.217 (B value) increase in body-sense (p < 0.05). When the various movement indexes are added, the model’s explanatory power increases 27.4%. The movement index after PA/RE (i.e., when exercising regularly) is the variable with the greatest effect on body-sense (Beta = 0.482, p < 0.001), and when it increases, the body-sense also increases. In other words, as the movement index increases it is estimated that the bodysense increases 0.629 (B value) points; this value is significant. Conversely, when individuals do not do PA/RE, the body-sense tends to decline (Beta = -0.110). It is estimated that on average the body-sense decreases 0.140 (B value) in the absence of PA/RE, although this value is not statistically significant (p > 0.05). Thus, it can be concluded that the movement index when doing PA/RE is the only determinant variable that predicts body-sense. 13

different measurement units; it corresponds to standardized values, i.e., the “coefficient of standardized partial regression” and indicates the expected change in body-sense when each independent variable is added, when the other values of independent variables are controlled; if necessary, it allows the value of the dependent variable to be forecast from the model; while the B value or “coefficient of non-standardized partial regression” corresponds to the contribution of each independent variable in explaining the variation of the dependent variable (in this case body-sense), assuring that the effects of other independent variables are controlled (see Maroco 2007). 13 In another model that was equally adequate in inferential terms (correlation coefficient 0.627, R2 = 0.394; F (6.69) = 7.468; p < 0.001) where the age variable was added, it was concluded that this is not a body-sense determinant. In this model, which explains 34.1% of body-sense (p < 0.001), it was noted that although there is a tendency for body-sense to decrease when age increases (for each extra year in age, the body-sense decreases on average 0.008 points (B value), this value does not have a statistically significant effect (p > 0.05). When introducing other variables into the model (duration of PA in number of years and its movement indexes) for each extra year in age, the body-sense starts to decrease on average only 0.003 points (B value) (but again these values were statistically nonsignificant, p > 0.05). As in the regression model presented, where age was introduced, the movement index when practicing PA proved to be the sole determining factor for body-sense prediction, with the effect Beta = 0.470; p < 0.001. These vary in the same direction, which means that when movement increases body-sense also increases (t (76) = 3.540, p < 0.001).

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Table 9-2: Determinants of Body-Sense (Hierarchical Regression)

Variables

Dependent Variable (Body-sense) Beta

1.

F

Df

Gender

Exercise Activity in number of years

2.

'R2

- .051 .332*

.119

4.914**

(2,73)

.274

10.533***

(3,70)

9.056***

(5,70)

Gender

Exercise Activity in number of years Movement Index before the practice of physical activity Movement Index after the practice of physical activity Movement Index in the practice of other activities

Adjusted R Square

.120 .186 -.110 .482*** .195

.349

*p