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Mediapolis
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Research in Text Theory Untersuchungen zur Texttheorie Editor Jänos S. Petöfi, Macerata Advisory Board Irena Bellert, Montreal Antonio Garcia-Berrio, Madrid Maria-Elisabeth Conte, Pavia Teun A. van Dijk, Amsterdam Wolfgang U. Dressler, Wien Nils Erik Enkvist, Abo Robert E. Longacre, Dallas Roland Posner, Berlin Hannes Rieser, Bielefeld Hartmut Schröder, Frankfurt (Oder) Volume 25
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Walter de Gruyter · Berlin · New York 1999
Mediapolis Aspects of Texts, Hypertexts and Multimedial Communication Edited by Sam Inkinen
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication-Data Mediapolis : aspects of texts, hypertexts, and multimedial communication / edited by Sam Inkinen p. cm. - (Research in text theory, ISSN 0179-4167 ; v. 25 = Untersuchungen zur Texttheorie) Includes indexes. ISBN 3-11-016141-9 (alk. paper) 1. Mass media and technology. 2. Discourse analysis. 3. Interactive multimedia. 4. Mass media-Philosophy. I. Inkinen, Sam. II. Series: Research in text theory ; v. 25. P96.T42M427 1999 302.23-dc21 98-33275 CIP
Die Deutsche Bibliothek — Cataloging-in-Publication-Data Mediapolis : aspects of texts, hypertexts and multimedial communication / ed. by Sam Inkinen. - Berlin ; New York : de Gruyter, 1999 (Research in text theory ; Vol. 25) ISBN 3-11-016141-9
ISSN 0 1 7 9 - 4 1 6 7 © Copyright 1998 by Walter de Gruyter & Co., D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in Germany Printing: Werner Hildebrand, Berlin Binding: Lüderitz & Bauer-GmbH, Berlin
Preface Because culture is mediated and enacted through communication, cultures themselves, that is our historically produced systems of beliefs and codes, become fundamentally transformed, and will be more so over time, by the new technological system. - Manuel Castells, The Rise of the Network Society (1996: 328)
"Information society," "network society" and "media society" have become central concepts to describe the contemporary society. Recent technological and social developments seem to be characterized by a fast transformation that shakes the old traditions and steady structures of our communities. Our thinking, our daily activities and the very survival of homo sapiens are heavily interlinked with technological innovations and media cultural systems. The basic problem concerning communication and information technology continues, however, to be the lack of research carried out from the perspective of the humanities and social sciences. Accounts based on technical and techno-economic premises - as well as various strategies by governments and central administrative agencies - can be easily found. Qualitative and critical research focusing on such issues as values, morals and social implications of technology is rare. This despite the fact that the role of information technology can be considered so central as to justify W. C. Zimmerli's view of it as the "cultural technology" (.Kulturtechnik) of our time. It is obvious that semiotic, aesthetic and philosophical codes of contemporary media channels - both in the form of traditional "mass media" and in the recent forms of so-called "new media" (Internet, multimedia, hypertext, virtual realities, etc.) - define the millennial Zeitgeist of the coming years. Manuel Castells, one of the most essential and respected commentators of the "information age," has argued that "through the powerful influence of the new communication system, mediated by social interests, government policies, and business strategies, a new culture is emerging: the culture of real virtuality [...]." (ibid.: 329-330) This culture of (real) virtuality emphasizes the technical, psychological and dromological aspects of communication. According to Castells, "What characterizes the new system of communication, based in the digitized, networked integration of multiple communication modes, is its inclusiveness and comprehensiveness of all cultural expressions." (ibid.: 374) Therefore, we can expect to be immersed in all kinds of ever expanding communication - including masses of information overload, worthless data trash and seducing media soma. It is no coincidence that computers, information networks and media technologies in general have held a central position in the recent cultural theoretical and media philosophical debate in which the issues of the "information society" (e.g., Machlup, Bell, Masuda) and the "postmodern" state of culture (e.g., Lyotard, Jameson, Baudrillard, Huyssen, Bauman, Welsch) have been emphasized. Over the last
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few years, themes such as the "new communication paradigm," "digital economy," "techno society," "interactivity," "cyber culture," "cyberocratia," etc., have been topics of neverending discussions. Unfortunately, more often than not comments have been focused on defending or criticizing superficial rhetoric. The need for a critical, reflective research is clear. * * *
It should be emphasized that developments in media and technology are linked, e.g., to economy, politics, (national and personal) identities and globalization. Today, not only computer literacy and media convergence but also transnationality and transculturality are dominant themes for the claimed cultural integration. This process, however, is unpredictable, chaotic, unequal and ambivalent by its character. Several times I have been positively surprised by the fact how "small" our planet is today. In some 15 hours you can fly from Los Angeles to Sydney, in 8 hours from Frankfurt to Toronto. We take it for granted that communication satellites transmit real time television broadcasting from the other side of the world - and, in the future, we will possibly receive such broadcasting from other planets. We are not surprised it takes only some seconds or minutes to receive an electronic mail from another country. Fifteen minutes can be an eternity these days. On the other hand, I have also been shocked and surprised by the unequality of development and the contingent nature of technology. The social, political, economic and cultural reality in Albania, Bosnia-Herzegovina, India, Cambodia, China, Ukraine, Namibia or Paraguay, to name but a few examples, differs radically from the brave, new "information societies" being built in the Western territories. In many geographical areas the benefits of the latest technology have not even been heard of - and their installation is far from reality. The situation and crucial question remains one of the information haves vis-ä-vis the have-nots; the electronic elite vis-ä-vis the information proletariat; the included vis-ä-vis the excluded. Despite this hard, self-evident fact, the unrealistic Utopias and massive "hype" around digitality, interactivity, electronic "revolution" and the "global village" seem extremely strong. Thus, I feel both horrified and ironically amused when considering the practical problems and technical short-comings which remain on our planet. * *
*
It has been necessary to accept the fact that technology is unpredictable and contingent - Janus-faced. Still, our society is alarmingly reliant on technological systems and an ultratechnological ideology. Criticism of media and technology is not fashionable these days - not even in academia or intellectual circles. Today's Utopian, technocratic, Faustian mind easily underestimates the risk factors and their potential consequences. As we all know, very often technological systems and apparatuses are unreliable. They do not function as planned. I have personally noticed this and been annoyed by it over the years when my projects have taken me all around the globe. I visit the grave of Immanuel Kant in
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Kaliningrad (Königsberg) and realize that my mobile phone does not work there, even though it should. I travel to the northern coast of the Crimean peninsula (Ukraine) and can hardly find anything to eat. Due to the weather conditions, I am stuck in the Balim Valley in the middle of a rainforest in New Guinea. And I hear about a colleague of mine having taken a flight from Panama to Columbia - just to see three of the four plane engines stop and the aeroplane struggle its way back to the point of departure. However, it is not only the developing countries that have technological problems. Without any valid reason, an ATM machine in Boston swallows my credit card. Without any logical excuse, my Internet connection - very necessary for academic and non-academic activities alike - refuses to function in Finland, "the most wired country in the world." At the same time the radio news tell how the German ICE train jumps off the tracks and tragically kills many dozens of people. With all this criticism I am not denying that the recent technical developments would mean qualitative changes - maybe even transformations - in many aspects of human culture and society. What I am saying is that we need a reflective, historical and critical approach to these issues - with broad perspectives, deeper analysis, holistic understanding and realistic scenarios of the problems and the possibilities of media, (hyper)texts, multimedial communication and the predicted "electronic future" of our society. * *
*
The approach outlined above has been one of the primary motifs behind this volume. Mediapolis is a critical, multi-disciplinary anthology that discusses, e.g., the theories, problems and possibilities of multimedial communication, computer interaction, hypertextual representation of knowledge, contemporary Utopias, television broadcasting, semiotics of media and sexuality in the cyber age. Instead of technological determinism or techno-optimistic rhetoric, this book focuses on an analytical approach to contemporary media, future technologies and electronic texts. TTiis approach also explains the name of the volume. The Greek word "polis" means a city-state. Plato's aristocratic Republic from the ancient times is one of the first social Utopias known. In our time, media, society and cultural dynamics are heavily interlinked. The utopic and dystopic thought is heavily connected to contemporary discourse on the power and implications of media. This status quo of a media-saturated information age and society gives the name to the volume: Mediapolis. The anthology is divided into four parts: (1) Texts, Hypertexts and Narratology, (2) Semiotic and Philosophical Approaches, (3) Aspects of Media and Technology Criticism and (4) Media Cultural Developments. The main disciplines shared by the contributors are philosophy and semiotics as well as media and communication studies. The following particular topics, among others, are discussed in the articles: the textual theory of hypertext, multimedia literature, Edmund Husserl's phenomenology, Nelson Goodman's philosophy of languages, Jean-Luc Godard's audiovisual works, Noam Chomsky's critical thinking, the history of communication technologies in Russia, tomorrow's media environments, identities in popular cultures and the controversial advertising of Benetton.
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Many of the articles also touch upon the problems of today's media narration. In terms of substance, the quality of recent works concerning "new media" has been satisfactory at best. Applied models have often been found in literary and cinematic culture, which has often been more flexible and imaginative than the link structures in hypermedia works. Despite all the inspiration, visions and overwhelming promises, it can be said that the new media is still dominantly written along the lines of Aristotle's Poetics. In the future, special attention is needed to the semiotic-cognitive development of link structures in hyper- and multimedia works as well as to the design of new kinds of inter- and intrafaces. Even though Mediapolis is a theoretical and academic anthology by its nature, hopefully its ideas will carry on into the practical world, too. Theory and praxis can - and should - support each other also in research on holistic texts, information technology and media applications. * *
*
Acknowledgments: I wish to thank the contributors without whose effort this volume would obviously not have been possible. Over the years, several people have helped me in many ways. I would like to express special gratitute to Prof. Dr. Hartmut Schröder, Prof. Dr. Eero Tarasti, Prof. Dr. Tarmo Malmberg, Prof. Dr. Arthur Kroker, Prof. Dr. Juha Suoranta, Dr. Altti Kuusamo, Dr. Henry Bacon, Dr. Michael Casey, Dr. Kirsti Simonsuuri, Dr. Pekka Himanen, Dr. Jukka Kilpi, Dr. Petrus Pennanen, Lie. Soc. Sc. Kim Weckström, Lie. Econ. Olli-Pekka Ruuskanen, Mr. Johan Bäckman, Ms. Eva Sundgren, Mr. Bello Romano, Mr. Kristian von Essen, Mr. Sebastian Urziia, Ms. Monika Hejduk, Ms. Renata Kostjukova, Ms. Tanja Hillbom, Mr. Pavel Vladimirski, Mr. Mijk van Dijk and Mr. Toshiaki Izui. My gratitude goes to Prof. Dr. Jänos Petöfi not only for many enjoyable meetings in Rome and Macerata but also for including this book in the series of Research in Text Theory. I wish also thank Ms. Stella Parland, Ms. Virpi Välimaa, Mr. Richard Foley, Mr. Robert Kinghom and Mr. David Huisjen, Jr. for their help with translation and proof-reading and Mr. Niko Punin for sharing his knowledge of graphic design and computers. Within Walter de Gruyter Publishers I would like to thank Dr. Brigitte Schöning and Mr. Wolfgang Konwitschny for their excellent professionalism and support during the editing. My current "home universities" - Europa-Universität Viadrina Frankfurt/Oder (Fakultät für Kulturwissenschaften), University of Vaasa (Dept. of Communication Studies) and University of Lapland (Dept. of Media Studies) deserve enthusiastic thanks for the resources and inspiration they have provided over the years. The last but not least, I wish to express my gratitude to the Finnish Ministry of Education, the Alfred Kordelin Foundation and Tieteen tiedotus ry. which have supported my research and activities financially in the critical phase of the work. - Sam Inkinen ([email protected])
Table of Contents Preface
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I. Texts, Hypertexts and Narratology Ernest W. B. Hess-Lüttich Towards a Narratology of Holistic Texts. The Textual Theory of Hypertext...
3
Sergio Cicconi Hypertextuality
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Mikle D. Ledgerwood Multimedia Literature, "Exploratory Games" and their Hypertextuality....
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Π. Semiotic and Philosophical Approaches Werner Konitzer Media as Meaningful Gestures. Phenomenology, Inner Time Consciousness and the Possibilities of Media Philosophy
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Marcello La Matina Media and Languages. From Nelson Goodman's Philosophy of Languages to a Scheme for a Semiotic-Philological Theory of Communication
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Paolo Teobaldelli Aspects of Multimedial Communication
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Mauri Ylä-Kotola The Philosophical Foundations of the Work of Film Director Jean-Luc Godard
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ΠΙ. Aspects of Media and Technology Criticism Brett Dellinger The Structural Constraint of "Concision" as it is Used in the Discourse Style of American Commercial Broadcasting 165
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Hannu Eerikäinen Cybersex: Α Desire for Disembodiment. On the Meaning of the Human Being in Cyber Discourse
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Sam Inkinen The Internet, "Data Highways" and the Information Society. A Comment on the Rhetoric of the Electronic Sublime
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Kari Kallioniemi Rock Discourse, Mass Mediations and Cultural Identity. The Imaginary England of Pop-Poet Stephen Patrick Morrissey
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IV. Media Cultural Developments Herwig G. Höller Internet and New Media in Russia. Some Historical and Contemporary Developments of Telecommunications and Information Technologies in Russia
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Anita Nuopponen & Esa Kunelius Seeing You, Seeing Me in the Global, Virtual Space. Tomorrow's Working, Learning and Leisure Environment 336 Tuija Niskanen More than Sweaters and Shocking Pictures. On the Corporate Philosophy and Communications Strategy of Benetton
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Name Index Subject Index
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I. Texts, Hypertexts and Narratology
ERNEST W. Β. HESS-LÜTTICH
Towards a Narratology of Holistic Texts The Textual Theory of Hypertext 1.
Literary History and Media Ecology
Would you have anticipated the Germanists' growing discomfort with their research target? Would you have foreseen that they would suddenly find the borderlines of their academic field questionable because of technical innovations basically foreign to their field? That an endless series of colloquia and symposia would focus on the role that "German Studies in a Media Society" could think of taking in the future?1 That uncertainty could even arise in defining the confines of literature and text? Could it have been anticipated only two decades ago when Helmut Kreuzer advocated the notion that "Veränderungen des Literaturbegriffs" (changes in literary concepts) would be discussed in the context of media competition (Kreuzer 1975)? Or when Norbert Wiener as early as 1964 brought in the "Era of News Technologies" which inspired critical young minds such as Friedrich Kittler to plead for a paradigm shift in literary studies (Kittler 1985)? Or when I myself founded the "Multimedia Communication" section in the German Association for Semiotic Studies (Deutsche Gesellschaftför Semiotik) in 1975, and Walter Höllerer devoted a special issue of the journal Sprache im technischen Zeitalter (cf. Höllerer 1975; Hess-Lüttich 1978) to the subject - long before "multimedia" was used as a commercial advertising concept in the computer industry and became as widely known as it is today? Could all this have been anticipated? That something already realized in techno art, video aesthetics, and computer music could break into the literary field? That "affinity ofpoiesis and techne" could grow in a way that "the exclusive persistence of natural 'originality'" could be suspected of harboring ideology? That the picture of a liable author who polishes a text on his own could fade away and be replaced by an unknown number of anonymous writers who weave textual nets without an end in sight? That they might simply "change the space of the primary text by the windows to be opened free in all directions"? (Lämmert 1995: 19) Could all this have been seen in advance? Well, some did. Especially those who as philologists, as "friends of words," and as witnesses to the contemporary "third industrial revolution" had the courage to perceive the philological borders at the 1
Among the numerous anthologies available I refer to the following examples: Segeberg 1987; Oellers 1988; Schütz 1988; Grossklaus & Lämmert 1989; Hess-Lüttich & Posner 1990; Elm & Hiebel 1991; Hess-Lüttich 1991,1992a; Jäger & Switalla 1994; Nöth 1997.
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threshold of the coming "era of telecommunication." At an intellectual level these changes had already been foreseen long before in structures, tendencies, perspectives, not in technical details but in theory: Walter Benjamin, Norbert Wiener, Marshall McLuhan, Walter Höllerer, Lars Gustafsson, Roland Barthes, Jacques Derrida, and Jean Baudrillard - and then the legions of those, of course, who were only too ready to follow their steps. Until lately, European Germanists fiercely resisted questioning changes in literary forms and linguistic routines caused by "the second industrial revolution" (Wiener 1964: 150). Now that we have the third industrial revolution, questions about after-effects of "automats" on literature and language are no longer regarded as illegitimate. They opened new perspectives "into literature in the technical era" (Elm & Hiebel 1991: 11 f.): What kind of linguistic and literary models did the printing press generate? What was the effect of the developments of mail (and afterwards the telegraph) for the structure of literary works? [...] What effects did the phonographic storage of spoken language (on records, tapes, films, videos) cause? Or the new possibilities of the telegraph and the telephone? In which way does [...] the radio influence the art of writing and the form of letters? Have the typewriter or the computer changed the structure of literary texts?
When some 20 years or so ago I published an early paper on multimedia communication and the problems of intermedia code relations, it was more or less midely ignored (Hess-Lüttich 1978).2 In the meantime we have been overtaken by technical developments which are more familiar to any high-school student than to the professors in the humanities. But meanwhile even they became increasingly motivated "to abandon their self-imposed insularity" (Ledgerwood 1997: 548). Mikle David Ledgerwood (New York State University at Stony Brook) has noted that: [With] the introduction of multimedia computers and multimedia materials, a revolution in literary input has taken place. [...] With the advent of multimedia poetry and novels using hypertextual links, literary critics are being forced to accept that their text-centered world is being challenged.
I tend to agree without arguing the quality of examples such as Ron Mann, Poetry in Motion (Voyager 1992) or Greg Roach, The Madness of Roland (HyperBole 1993) or even "multimedia games which come very close to being multimedia literature, such as The Virtual Murder Series [or] The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and adventure science fiction games such as Beyond the Wall of Stars [or] Myst" (Ledgerwood 1997: 549). They are not my concern here. But what is the author's notion of text? Up to the present day, linguists have never agreed on a coherent concept of text. Now with a litany of new words such as Internet, interface, intertext, and hypertext dazzling their minds, the notion of text becomes even more obscure to them, while at the same time their subject matter is redefmed as theory of text, or discourse, media or cultural study.3
2 A paper given at the founding meeting of the section of "Multimediale Kommunikation" at the first colloquium of the German Association for Semiotic Studies (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Semiotik) in Berlin. The paper was published in expanded form in a the book edited by Borbe & Krampen (see Hess-Lüttich 1978: 21-48; cf. also Hess-Lüttich 1982). J Cf. Plett 1975; van Dijk 1980; Hess-Lüttich 1984; Link & Parr 1990; Scheffer 1992; Schönert 1993; Schmidt 1995; Antos et al. [in prep].
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Text, Intertext, and Hypertext
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"Text" in Language Theory, Literary Theory, and Sign Theory
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Thinking about text has a long tradition in literary and language theories (naturally also in sign, media, and cultural theories). I would suggest differentiating between linguistic, literary, and semiotic notions of texts: verbal texts as the material basis of communicative action in the form of a relational structure of verbal elements are usually expressed in categories such as extension and delimitation, cohesion and coherence, cotext and context, structure and system (cf. de Beaugrande & Dressier 1981)4 and described in terms of their referential, typological, modal, temporal, collocative, and colligative relationships (cf. van Dijk 1977; Halliday 1978). In addition to this, the linguistic concept of text can be elaborated semiotically in terms of sign theory and applied to nonverbal codes of any semiotic structure and modality. This clarifies the difference (already standard in the Prague and Tartu schools) between mundane and poetic texts. Poetic text is understood - e.g., according to Jurij Lotman (1972, 1973) - as a "semantic saturated system of systems" whose significance grows on one hand from tension between its subsystems, the series of similarities, oppositions, repetitions, parallelisms, etc., and on the other from the relationship to other texts, codes, aesthetic norms, literary conventions, and social premises in the Bakhtinian "dialogue" with the reader (cf. Eagleton 1988: 79-109). Both these complexes are nowadays integrated in literary theory or "semiotic discourse analysis." Here the question of the semiotically specific structure of a literary text is tied to the cultural context of a text and its intertextual relationship between reference and literacy, which is developed from the tension between the imminent (sub)systems (graphemic, phonemic, morphemic, lexical, syntactic, suprasegmental) and external factors (discursive, social, functional, cultural, institutional) (cf. Link & Parr 1990: 107-130). Theoretical modeling of text - be it in literary, linguistic, or media theory - now defines text as a "constructive form" or as a sign construction (or super sign). Text is no longer seen as a linear chain of signs as in traditional textual linguistics (cf. Hess-Lüttich 1981: 324). This semiotic approach to text theory is "holistic" and complex enough to integrate nonlinear, multicoded, multimedial texts in text theory. Analytically this can reveal the sign dimensions of text at the level of a super sign and thematisize them at the primary level as a syntagmatic-colligative object of text syntax, as a referential-significative object of text semantics, or as a dialogicfunctional object of text pragmatics; as long as we are aware ofthat textuality as a manifestation mode (as a structural feature) of communicative processes is realized in a joint effect of all these dimensions as a semiosis mediating communicative facts, which - when it is a question of poetic texts - is overlapped by a "secondary modeling system" of autofunctionality, actualization/deautomatization, connotativity, polyisotopes, iconicity, etc. (Lotman 1973; Nöth 1985: 455-498; Link & Parr 1990). < de Beaugrande & Dressier (1981:3-14) defined seven criteria of textuality: cohesion, coherence, intentionality, acceptability, informativity, situation-boundness, and intertextuality (although the notion of intertextuality here refers more to Quirk than to Kristeva).
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2.2
Intertextuality and Intermediality
I will assume another part of text theory which has received special attention in recent years: the concept of intertextuality.5 "The phenomenon of texts being tied together, networked," so to speak, is by no means "an invention of contemporary literary theory; rhetoric and poetics have thematized this for a long time..." (Holthuis 1993:2). "The question of the relations between texts has actually always belonged to the core area of linguistic discussion" (Hess-Lüttich 1987: 9), for no text can be understood as a creatio ex nihilo (cf. Stierle 1984). But what actually is an "intertext"? Is a text "between" other texts, as the word suggests? And what makes this text different from those other texts? Can a text exist without intertextuality? Or can intertexts exist without being texts? Disregarding effects which discussion on text linguistics, semiotics, text theory, and literary theory has experienced in the meantime, the concept of intertext can be used to handle a variety of relationships between texts (aesthetic or nonaesthetic); i.e., not only syntactic references to preceding texts (such as citations, allusions, parodies); not only structural homologies which assign texts by type; not only semantic relations subject to topos, motive, material, and reference studies but in the sense suggested by Janos Petöfi: "as the sum of relations of dominantly verbal semiotic relations" (Holthuis 1993: 249). This again semiotically defined concept of intertextuality "merely indicates that one text refers to or is present in another one" (Mai 1991:51) and is delimited from both its global understanding in terms of poetological-poststructural approaches (following, e.g., Julia Kristeva) and from linguistic-reductionist concepts which try to determine intertextuality as an inherent feature excluded from the text which constitutes intersubjective relations of references by explicit features.' The authority to build up these relationships is, after all, the reader for whom it is not irrelevant to know if the author knew the preceding text or not, if he has the same text repertoire or not, if he can follow instructions referred to in the text or not. Logical continuation, application, and expansion of hypertext concepts can be found in the traditional scaling of intertextuality based on referentiality, communicativity, autoreflection, structurality, selectivity, dialogue (cf. Pfister 1985:25-30; Plett 1991b; de Beaugrande & Dressier 1981: 188-215) and the typology of their forms of transformation based on language (e.g., translations), state of language (e.g., middle high-German epics in the modern versions), linguistic variation or register (e.g., classic ballads in dialect versions, popular science), genre or text type (parodies, critical reviews), and, of course, media. Establishing intertextual relations is therefore a central feature of hypertext by whose help - as in the MIT Shakespeare Multimedia Project7 - the "windows" equipped with text variants, word explanations, comments, literature and source references, visual and sound material, decoration examples and film clips complete the drama text stored ears Cf. e.g., Lachmann 1984; Stierle 1984; Ette 1985; Harty 1985; Broich & Pfister 1985; Zander 1985; Hess-Lüttich 1987; Worton & Still 1990; Plett 1991a; Holthuis 1993. 6 "Any merely inter-literary, inter-linguistic taxonomic attempt will serve mainly archival purposes and even these in a slightly antiquated fashion" (Mai 1991: 52). 7 The system combines theater plays with examples of stage arrangements and other medial variants (cf. Zander 1985) to analyze intermedial translations. For other potential usages of hypertext, see Fendt 1995: 78-87.
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lier. Therefore, hypertext systems are predefined for intertextual analysis, since they represent "a viable technical solution for those intertextualists interested in pointing out interconnections in large archives of diverse kinds of text (verbal, visual, aural) as it allows the construction of comprehensive informational networks" (Mai 1991:50). Thereby one type of intertextuality becomes the object of interest, which brings new demands for (linguistic and literary) text theories, and becomes the central piece of the text theory of hypertextuality: intermediality. While contemporary communication developments are more and more distinguished "by media systems, intermedial fusion and transformation," we now need a theory of intermediality which allows us to construct an intermedial system of norms which describes the transition from a text in one medium to another text in another medium by given media-specific code relations. It is a demand of systematic media comparison, and a great number of case studies proves its necessary reflection in contemporary text theory.' Intermediality becomes even more interesting when discussing technical developments in the field of multimedia communication (cf. Hess-Lüttich 1992b). How can the representation of knowledge be optimized in the multimedia text? Among which kind of changes does information transfer from one medium to another? What kind of effects does the change of seriodeductive information processing in linear-structured texts to associative-conceptual processing in multicoded text ensembles have for their reception in, say, self-educational hypertext programs? What consequences does the transition of a linear text structure to a holistic structure have from an "author's" or "reader's" point of view in hyper documents which can potentially be freely expanded, modified, and manipulated? 2.3
From Linear to Holistic Texts
Theodor Holm Nelson defined "hypertext" as a "non-linear text" (Nelson 1967: 195). But what is a linear text? In the traditional linguistics meaning, linear texts are texts whose material form conditions the fixed order of their serial elements. The natural spoken language, for instance, was characterized by its temporal linear sequence without spatial extension (Nöth 1994). Natural written language was seen as an arrangement of a spatial linear sequence of its segments on various levels (phonemes, monemes, sentences, paragraphs, chapters, etc.). And every reader, when reading texts, is said to be subject to this principle. Can this be regarded as true without any limitations? Didn't a reader a long time ago become used to reading particular text types differently, not from letter to letter? He leafs through, browses, reads diagonally or cursorily. He follows crossreferences, linking thematically and argumentatively related passages despite significant gaps. He lets the author guide him forwards and backwards. He acknowledges footnotes and endnotes, commenting in the margin. He gets an overview by using the table of contents and indexes, following lemmata in encyclopedias and dictionaries. 8
Cf. Hess-Lüttich 1987; Hess-Lüttich & Posner 1990; Hess-Lüttich 1991, 1992a; Hess-Lüttich & Müller*! 994; Hess-Lüttich & Holly & Püschel 1996.
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The reader's nonlinear activities while perceiving texts (this is naturally even more relevant with nonverbal texts such as numeric tables, graphic drawings, photographs, pictures, sculptures, frescoes, etc.) can be more easily understood by using the semiotic text conception than the linguistic one. For those who understand texts from the beginning as a "constructive form" - structure, web, or net, as opposed to a chain, line, sequence, or syntax of signs' - the transition from "analog" to "digital" text or from text to hypertext loses the often diagnosed quality of being a quantum leap. The idea on which the multimedial concept of text is based considers the verbal, paraverbal, and nonverbal codes (language, graphics, color pictures, animations, sounds, sound synthesis, films, etc.) as a textually integrated concept. It also offers in principle an unlimited number of intertextual connections. This idea dates far back to pre-electronic ages. The recent history of hypertext, if I may call it that, carefully classifies the history into three periods: (1) mechanical (1932-67), (2) digital (1961-67), and (3) the period of specializing and commercializing (1985 to the present) (cf. Kuhlen 1991; Fendt 1995:12-52). Vannevar Bush had a machine in mind (he called it Memex) which allowed a user to store and search for information in a way differingfromclassical formal logic and strict index-based methods. According to the model of associative thinking processes, single documents should be linked into a net-like information system: die germ cell of today's Internet or World Wide Web.1· The idea, published in the Atlantic Monthly in 1945, of developing text automats "that serve a man's daily thoughts directly, fitting in with his normal thought processes, rather than just do chores for him" (Bush 1967:76) was later developed and improved by Douglas Engelbart and Theodor Holm Nelson. Their work followed Bush's associative principle of text networking. Engelbart concentrated on machine-based simulation of heuristic problem-solving behavior and built the bridge between cognitive psychology, linguistics, and computer science. Hisfindingswere to have a significant impact on the newer approaches of text theory modeling in the humanities. These connections between humanities and automatic technologies are even more clear in Theodor Holm Nelson's work. Nelson coined the term "hypertext" in the 1960s. And it has nothing to do with Genette's or Mieke Bal's terminology." In his main work with its programmatic title Literary Machines (Nelson 1987), everything is based on the premises "that hypertext is fundamentally traditional and the mainstream of literature" (Nelson 1987: 1-17). According to Nelson, literature is a handling of fictional and nonfictional texts which develop in historical tradition. However, the structure of their linear sequence, their representation of contents, and their semiotic modality of representation make these texts different from » Cf. my criticism (1981: 325) of a reductionist notion of text defined mainly in terms of syntax (see, e.g., Plett 1975). ι» For Internet and World Wide Web, cf. Krol 1992:227-242. The metaphors approach associativeparallel models of memory more than deductive-serial neurophysiological ones; on the other hand, they embrace semiotic understanding of text. » The concept of hypertext applied by Gerard Genette in his theory of intertextuality (1982: 7) describes the post-text back-reference to pre-text ("hypotext"). This is only a literary category which Genette borrows from Mieke Bal (cf. Saussure's "hypograms"): Genette 1982: 11,469.
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hypertext. Hypertext should expand the reader's freedom when going through a text (Nelson 1967: 195) through the "into trees and networks" ramification, electronic "links" allowing access to other spatially remote texts. He can decide the level of details ("multiple levels of summary and detail"). He can decide between spoken or written forms of presentation, picture or sound, graphics or film or as a whole. Instead of a passive receiver-reader, he can become an active co-author who adds, shortens, manipulates, and destroys text according to his taste and interests (cf. Landow 1992: 5). Therefore hypertext has become the ideal methodological tool for deconstruction. This raises some questions which affect the heart of traditional text theory and make new conceptualizing necessary. What unifies a text when its form - its Gestalt — can be so freely manipulated? Which are its segments when switching between codes leads to changes or losses in information structures? Which are the "nuclear units" which cannot be reduced or changed further? Which are the borders of the text which separate it from other texts, contexts, and cotexts? How does the textuality change when transforming itfroman analog to digital medium? What meaning does the text convey when unconstituted before the actual process of reading? How do audiovisual codes control this process? Which perspectives does the unlimited ability of expansion and plurimedial transformation open for applied text science? It is not by accident that poststructuralists like Roland Barthes, deconstructionalists like Jacques Derrida, reception theorists like Wolfgang Iser, and semioticians like Umberto Eco had been thinking of such text theory questions for a long time. I think one should defend this humanistic tradition against the claims of automation engineers on the concept - especially as long as "its practical application has been realized so far mainly in the fields of engineering and natural sciences, and has not been successfully applied in the humanities." (Rieger 1994: 476f.) 3.
Hypertext Theory
3.1
The Historical Perspective: From the Turing Machine to the Text Generator
In his Theses on the Birth of Hypermedia, the Bremen computer scientist Wolfgang Coy reconstructs the historic conditions of the "cultural subversive" communications revolution now underway and expected to unfold with complete success in the next century through the omnipresence of highly efficient media networking (Coy 1994: 64-74; cf. Hiebel 1991: 186-224). Just as writing first made the spoken word available, reviewable, recordable, and transferable, just as in the 12th century certain text building blocks (such as division into paragraphs, sections, chapters, indices, and tables of contents) enabled the step from manuscript to book, just as the "historic construction of the text [was...] the premise of the Gutenberg media revolution" (Coy 1994:70), just as Gutenberg's "artificialiter scribere" permitted the book to become a technically reproducible repository of knowledge, for which the encyclopedia served as paradigm during the Enlightenment, so Alan M. Turing executed the decisive step to "mechanizing mental effort" with his "Turing machine" (Nake 1992: 181-201) from "artificialiter scribere" to algorithmic pro-
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gramming of automats: "The Gutenberg galaxy of static printing media," argues Coy (1994: 71) "was absorbed dynamically by programmable media in the Turing galaxy." The "theoretical" possibility this has opened for digital coding texts of whatever semiotic structure and modality is beginning to bring about practical results: the change in mechanical, electrical, thermodynamic, and biochemical impulses as well as sensual allocation of seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, and feeling values are for the first time finding digitizing to be a common medium for uniform application of precisely copiable and reproducible machine memory, conversion, and intermedial translation. The resulting from this in our traditional communications culture (with corresponding implications for traditional patterns of text structures and types, for security in judging between "original" and "copy," between authentic picture and photographic negative) we are sharing at the moment when we send letters by fax or email, when we carry out telephone conversations by ISDN networks, when we exchange texts via the World Wide Web, when we listen to music from a compact disc or play a video on a CD-ROM, when we follow news in the media over (supposed) reality which may be real or "virtual," when we immerse ourselves in the fantasy world of commercial or movie films through computer animation of technically manipulated perception. The computer becomes the quintessential media-integrating machine which "opens new possibilities of interactive use through its algorithmic programmability" (Coy 1994:73). Our everyday contact is determined by multimedia communication, whether we want it to or not. Our perception is being changed by automats: "The history of the media is a history of perception patterns" (Bolz 1990: 134). Symbol-integrating "holistic" use of signs in contact with concepts such as hypertext requires new ways to see, speak, and think. Are we properly equipped for it? "Will we speak computer language?" (Gauger & Heckmann 1988). Or will the machine speak ours? 3.2
The Structural Perspective: System Design of Multimedial Text
Important for those interested in text theory are technically caused changes in valid principles of textual design, production, reception, transformation, and distribution which begin to emerge through the hypertext concept and their repercussions which only gradually form an outline on the functions of communications media and the lingual text forms of traditionally linear text design (cf. Kuhlen 1991). Lingually distributed meaning no longer consists only of grammatical rules within text concerning linked signs but also of integrating numerous semiotically coded multimedial sign aggregates.12 The system design is based on combination of only a few elements (see Rieger 1994:390ff.; Fendt 1995:53-77). Electronically linking databases of various structure and function (texts, graphics, tables, pictures, videos, tones, sounds, musical sequences) with processing instruments (text processing, graphic programs, nu12
For a more detailed definition of the concept of "multiple coded sign aggregates" (mehrfach codierte Zeichenaggregate), see Hess-Lüttich 1994.
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meric calculation, statistical programs, picture manipulation, MIDI interfaces, etc.) by pointer and anchor structures or icons permits using "windows technology" to produce, present, change, and repeat at any time. Each window on the monitor corresponds to a node in the database which is summoned by the corresponding links, "opened," and can be connected with other nodes. Nodes and links, texts (in the semiotic sense) as units of information and intertextual reference functions (in the sense of bookmarks, annotations, intra- or extratextual links) are the elementary components of the hypertext concept. Discussion about them in the relevant literature therefore occupies much space without it having led to precisely agreed upon definitions (Nielsen 1990; Kuhlen 1991). It enables the text's networking structure by which the "author" writes to the "reader" who may follow linking instructions or become "author" himself by producing new links and nodes manipulating the database, supplementing it, or creating it. Links or reference functions can also occur at several levels and lead to an associative branch-learning process which may divert the "reader" from the original text as does scanning an encyclopedia. Depending on the reference level, the "reader" himself decides on his reading strategy according to his interest and the relevance of the topic. Obviously in this manner he can easily lose his way within the labyrinth of texts, nodes, and references - a quandary gleefully characterized by the expression "lost in hyperspace." Freedom of contact with texts is thus fraught with the danger of losing one's orientation and with being deluged by information ("data trash") which finally threatens reader "activity" with being turned into total passivity in the meantime.13 It thus calls for effective navigation aids which simplify the networking structure of hypertext to orient the reader/author and allow him to establish a coherent framework for understanding among the many reading paths and text alternatives. Hence, depending on interest, he might wish to enrich his knowledge by reading text lessons on historically or culturally contrasting perspectives or pursue partial aspects of a topic and seek comments on key terms and compare them with related concepts. He thus has his library in the machine with encyclopedias and reference works, so reaching for the bookshelf becomes "clicking" with the "mouse." What might potentially be lost to contextual complexity (by reduction in the multiplicity of texts within programmed nodes and selected segments) is retrieved by the variety of perspectives which allow the "reader" to cast new insights on the text over and over again. Depending on his interest, he chooses between alternatives offered in a node and thus opens ever new trails through the labyrinth of texts within the "framework" of limitations mapped out by the system. Thus freedom of choice between references is by no means endless, as often suggested; it is limited by the system frame within which the search strategies of text networking are programmed.14 |3 "Knowledge is no more delivered as a tradition through the generations but it spreads instantly and horizontally. The observation is released from physical presence. Receiving news becomes as anonymous as receiving food. In this endless execution the mass media changes a human being and world simultaneously. A human being proves to be a machine which produces machines which produce idleness." (Bolz 1990: 140) Μ On one hand, cf. the concept of scenography (Szenographie) of Ecoan text semiotics; on the other, the relationship of limitative and figurative rules when focusing on concepts of "medium" and "style" in communication theory (Hess-Lüttich 1981: 120flf.).
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Such processes for gaining an overview, as were developed in the book culture over centuries past,15 are still in the developing stage within the hypertext system. For a long time their optimal semiotic structure was the object of sharp debates. But now the issue of whether the "contact area" between man and machine (the "user surface," the "interface") to carry out such reference and linking operations should be modeled symbolically, or through icons, has been decided in favor of an "interface design" which bears in mind not only technical but also cognitive, perceptual, and emotive aspects (cf. Laurel 1990: xi). The extent to which semiotic solutions now and then come to light is typically metaphorical and culture-specific at the same time (cf. Carroll & Mack & Kellogg 1988). One is pleased to gain an overview through pictographic or cartographic structures. Texts, as on the job (preferably in the Anglo-Saxon idiom), are laid out in desktop form as documents or files within folders or thrown into the trash bin. The "user friendliness" strived for should reduce the cognitive burden of the modus operandi and simplify concentration on content processing. But asking if the iconic metaphors developed for this are universally understandable and acceptable (even if tending toward standardization) is just as controversial as asking if the principles of interface design should correspond to those ofAristotelian drama theory as Brenda Laurel (1991: 125-159) hopes for a more intense emotional involvement of the text user. 3.3
The Aesthetic Perspective: Hypertext, Literature, and Machine
Since the appearance of Theodor Holm Nelson's opus magnum on the Literary Machines (1987), voices urging a literary basis for the hypertext concept have gained in power and following, especially in the USA, sometimes with a kind ofAmerican informality. They argue, for instance, that Roland Barthes - whatever he may have understood of computers in the PC-free 1960s - had anticipated hypertext as he envisioned texts "as far as the eye can reach" (Barthes 1974: 11; cf Bolter 1991: 161; Landow 1992: 3). In Landow's hypertext Bible, the entire range of subject matter falls under attackfromthe Jewish Mishnah to the literary avantgarde (Landow 1992), from Horace's ars poetica to hypertext's ars combinatoria,fromthe myth of antiquity to the machine of modernity (cf. Bolter 1991: 35ff.) if it is valid to prove hypertext to be "an essentially literary concept" (Slatin 1988: 112) and to cite predecessors for it and parallels to find and invent. Landow has examined Aristotle's Poetry, and behold: hypertext repeals it. No longer do we hear of "fixed sequence, definite beginning and ending, a story's 'certain definite magnitude', and the conception of unity or wholeness" (Landow 1992: 102). Now the rules of Aristotelian poetry have been violated frequently, even by authors who still operated with a quill in producing their texts. But they belonged to the swiftly growing community of hypertext predecessors. Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy is gladly noted here with its gift of digression or James Joyce's Ulysses and Finnegans Wake with its endless chains of associations and subtle reference network (cf. Eco 1987: 72, 1990: 138), Alain Robbe-Grillet or Jorge Luis Borges or Vladimir Nabokov: their works are all evidence of the au15
Cf., e.g., Clausberg's (1994: 5-9) research on "medieval models for graphical user interfaces."
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thors' attempt "to divorce themselves from imposing a particular reading of their texts on their readers, attempting to eliminate linearity of texts" (Ledgerwood 1997: 550). Admittedly the book had a beginning and an end. But what forces us toward linearity in the reading? Was it not precisely the reputable scripts of ancient cultures which released us from this compulsion: the signs of Lao Tse, the Dead Sea scrolls, the Talmud, the Christian Bible? One imagines only a tract from the Talmud, the page artfully designed with headlines and footnotes, with the text of the Hebrew Mishnah in the middle, framed by commentary of the Aramaic Gemara, expanded by explanatory Haggadah, associatively linked parables and mnemotechnically helpful remarks and wordplays, cross references on other passages, on the Bible or Middle-Ages scripts, insertions, marginal notations, corrections, comments taken up from centuries past. Thus in the course of time arose "a thick tangle of texts about texts with countless references and argumentations which precisely through the various types of readings, spelled out in numerous commentaries, called for 'unending' interpretation work" (Fendt 1995: 93). What has been expressed over the centuries in careful contact with handwritten scripts (we have the monastic scriptures in mind) in traces of their critical use and in sedimented interlinear or marginal comments testifies to the plurality of an anonymous authorship which contributed to development and growth of the text. In principle nothing else tempts the users of hypertext when they open window after window and see what authors have collected over time and strewn far and wide from their point of origin. Thus the "text memory" is updated and expanded in the immeasurable and perhaps inscrutable, and it finds its limits only in those of the computer memory. TTiose who get lost in the maze may recall as consolation the mating tradition of the text labyrinth beloved since antiquity and matured into full bloom in the 17th century by which the Ariadne threads of linear lectures never promised a completely secure escort. Nonlinearity, reader activity, intertextuality, plurality of the types of readings, and openness of the reader's trail: it is not so difficult to find literary examples for each of these hypertext characteristics.16 On the other hand, disciples of post-modern "literary theory" exuberantly evade one or another metaphoric imprecisions when evoking - with Derrida or Bataille or even Sebeok - the "unlimited semiosis in the semiotic web." Chunks and links in the hypertext system are always codable; the units (texts, nodes, chunks) must contain meaningful interfaces for fürther links (not necessarily intended as such by the original author); given the number of links, reading from the text loses meaning as a semantically functioning unit; not all links are equally plausible, be that as it may, one falls silent at the outlook of many intertextuality theoreticians whose hard-to-disprove finding relates everything to everything and eavesdrops on the polyphony of voices in the "chambre d 'echos" of the "bibliotheque generale" (Barthes). If all links were equally valid, they would be indifferent to the demand for justification. Eco (1990) noted the limits of interpretation against this "something for " Fendt especially examines the works of the French group of oulipo writers, Raymond Queneau, Julio Cortäzar, Marc Saporta, and Georges Perec to illustrate how far the methods of hypertext follow principles well known to many writers.
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everybody" view and asserts plausibility demands on Derrida or Bataille. Responding to Peirce, he recalls that even with theoretically unlimited potential links of given interpretations using signs (complexes), the number of actually selected links is finite and limited. Not all metatexts are of equal value to texts; a few succeeded, but others were justifiably discarded: certain links made more sense than others; many trails also led to dead ends. It is wise to keep this in mind if future theoretical text considerations on hypertext are developed before the foil of aesthetic and literary text theories.
4.
Hypertext as a Topic of Narratology and Discourse Studies
It is necessary that contemporary text sciences (when they want to be critical and not only to affirm modernism or preserve conservatism) set up and satisfy changes caused by implications of technical and social development in their research field. The text theory discussion about notating hypertext is an ideal example of how language and literary theory can be expanded and enriched by integrating findings of sign and media theory. Usage of (post)structural, psycholinguistic, and deconstructive parameters, for example, has advanced the unveiling of interesting parallel phenomena as well as significant changes in various views and opinions about text (cf. Kuhlen 1991; Barrett 1989; Landow 1992). When Barthes' textual unit "Lexien" is compared with nodes of hypertext, one has to define the adequate units of these segments, especially when attaining multimedial polycoding. Many of Derrida's formulations about text as a net of endless references can be seen as metaphors for hypertext, giving it some amount of credibility for this reason alone. Lack of linguistic knowledge proves a disadvantage in many "cleverly" formulated thoughts on analogies between text and hypertext. In these contexts the thematic, semantic, logical, argumentative, and idea structures are falsely concluded from the linear form of material sign order. Yet psychologically and psycholinguistically oriented cognitive approaches to the method of linking chunks in hypertext may also enlighten the relationship between processes of text understanding at the levels of propositions, proposition clusters, and proposition sequences (cf. van Dijk 1980: 183). Reception aesthetics (RifFaterre, Iser) has discussed how rules given to a user by the "author" and reader's own activity affect each other in the process of understanding the text. It has analyzed reader options in the potentiality of references and construction process of text in its empty, cutting, combining, or indefinite points. Reception aesthetics has thus created a basis for redefining a passive hypertext receiver as a "partner" who "benefits" in the virtual textual worlds. The rules of the game are thus considered with technical aspects, since each change of perspective in understanding text, its levels, and reference potentials is based on physical activation of a "window" which opens the visual angle chosen by the user. Limited by technical borders, this new consciousness frees the hypertext reader to employ intentio auctoris while strengthening his respect for intentio operis. It may also strengthen his disbelief toward the arbitrariness with which any intentio lectoris begs for attention nowadays.
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Yet could this mean, as many critics warn us, reducing thinking into patterns which a machine orders? What results when "the individual reading experiences" (emotional, intellectual, social) based on an interpreted world are replaced by "manmouse manipulation sensations experienced through a screen" (Rieger 1994:401)? Is creativity relegated in this case to a machine, and does a human being become "Angestellter des Gestells" (Heidegger) (Söring 1997: 41)? In short, the question arises if creation of suitable languages for computers doesn't mean a cultural revolution whose consequences can hardly be ignored? Will wide-spread work with computers bring the same kind of change in consciousness to the art of writing as the shift from the spoken culture has brought to the written word? Hasn't something already begun, to cite Thomas Mann, "which has hardly ceased to begin" (was zu beginnen kaum schon aufgehört hat) (Heckmann & Gauger 1988: 9).
5.
Literature
Ammon, Ulrich & Dittmar, Norbert & Mattheier, Klaus J. (eds.) 1988 Sociolinguistics Soziolinguistik. Berlin: de Gruyter. Antos, Gerd et al. (Hg.) [in prep.] Textwissenschaft. Berlin: de Gruyter. Barrett, Edward (ed.) 1988 Text, ConText, and Hypertext. Writing with andfor the Computer. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Barrett, Edward (ed.) 1989 The Society of Text: Hypertext, Hypermedia and the Social Construction of Information. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Barthes, Roland 1974 s/z. New York: Hill & Wang. Beaugrande, Robert A. de & Dressler, Wolfgang U. 1981 Einführung in die Textlinguistik. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Bogdal, Klaus Michael (Hg.) 1990 Neue Literaturtheorien. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag. Bolter, Jay David 1990 Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext, and the History of Writing. New York: Lawrence Erlbaum. Bolter, Jay David 1991 "Topographic Writing: Hypertext and the Electronic Writing Space", in: Delany, Paul & Landow, George P. (eds.), Hypermedia and Literary Studies. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 105-118. Bolz, Norbert 1990 Theorie der neuen Medien. München: Raben. Borbe, Tasso & Krampen, Martin (Hg.) 1978 Angewandte Semiotik. Wien: Egeimann. Broich, Ulrich & Pfister, Manfred (Hg.) 1985 Intertextualität. Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Bush, Vannevar 1967 Science is Not Enough. New York: William Morrow. Carroll, John Μ. & Mack, Robert L. & Kellogg, Wendy A. 1988 "Interface metaphors and user interface design", in: Helander, Martin (ed.), Handbook of Human-Computer Interaction. Amsterdam: North Holland. Clausbeig, Karl 1994 "Gummiband und Gummilinse: Mittelalterliche Vorbilder für graphische Benutzungsoberflächen", Zeitschrift für Semiotik 16.1-2: 5-9.
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Coy, Wolfgang 1994
"Gutenbeig & Turing: Fünf Thesen zur Geburt der Hypermedien", Zeitschrift fir Semiotik 16.1-2: 69-74. Delany, Paul & Landow, George P. (eds.) 1991 Hypermedia and Literary Studies. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Dijk, Teun A. van 1977 Text and Context. London/New York: Whitaker. Dijk, Teun A. van 1980 Textwissenschaft. Eine interdisziplinäre Einführung. Tübingen: Niemeyer; München: dtv. Eagleton, Terry 1988 Einführung in die Literaturtheorie. Stuttgart: Metzler. Eco, Umberto 1987 Lector in fabula. Die Mitarbeit der Interpretation in erzählenden Texten. München: Hanser. Eco, Umberto 1990 The Limits of Interpretation. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Eco, Umberto Interpretation and Overinterpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University 1992 Press. Eco, Umberto "MS-DOS ist calvinistisch", Abenteuer Computer. Spiegel Special 3/199S, 1995 138-142. Elm, Theo & Hiebel, Hans H. (Hg.) 1991 Medien und Maschinen. Literatur im technischen Zeitalter. Freiburg/Brsg.: Rombach. Ette, Othmar "Intertextualität: Ein Forschungsbericht mit literatursoziologischen Anmer1985 kungen", Romanistische Zeitschrift fir Literaturgeschichte 9,497-522. Faulstich, Werner 1982 Medienästhetik und Mediengeschichte. Heidelberg: Winter. Fendt, Kurt 1995 Offene Texte und nicht-lineares Lesen. Hypertext und Textwissenschaft. Bern: Diss.phil. Fiehler, Reinhard & Weingarten, Rüdiger (Hg.) 1988 Technisierte Kommunikation. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag. Garz, Detlef & Kraimer, Klaus (Hg.) 1994 Die Welt als Text. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp. Gauger, Hans-Martin & Heckmann, Herbert (Hg.) 1988 Wir sprechen anders. Warum Computer nicht sprechen können. Frankfurt/M.: Fischer. Genette, Gfrard 1982 Palimpsestes. La litterature au second degre. Paris. Seuil. Genette, G6rard 1989 Paratexte. Frankfurt/MVNew York: Campus. Gloor, Peter A. & Streitz, Norbert A. (Hg.) 1990 Hypertext und Hypermedia. Von theoretischen Konzepten zur praktischen Anwendung. Berlin/Heidelberg: Springer. GroBklaus, Götz & Lämmert, Eberhard (Hg.) 1989 Literatur in einer industriellen Kultur. Stuttgart: Cotta. Halliday, Michael A.K. 1978 Language as Social Semiotic. London: Arnold. Harty, E. R. 1985 "Text, Context, Intertext", Journal of Literary Studies 1/2, 1-13.
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Heckmann, Herbert & Gauger, Hans-Martin 1988 "Einführung", in: Gauger, Hans-Martin & Heckmann, Herbert (Hg.), Wir sprechen anders. Warum Computer nicht sprechen können. Frankfurt/M.: Fischer, 5-10. Hess-Lfittich, Ernest W. B. 1978 "Semiotik der multimedialen Kommunikation", in: Borbe, Tasso & Krampen, Martin (Hg.), Angewandte Semiotik. Wien: Egermann, 21-48. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. 1981 Grundlagen der Dialoglinguistik. Berlin: Erich Schmidt. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. (ed.) 1982 Multimedia Communication. 2 vols. Tübingen: NaiT. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. 1984 Kommunikation als ästhetisches Problem. Vorlesungen zur Angewandten Textwissenschaft. Tübingen: Narr. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. (Hg.) 1987 Text Transfers. Probleme intermedialer Übersetzung. Münster Nodus. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. 1987 "Intertextualität und Medienwechsel", in: Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. (Hg.), Text Transfers. Probleme intermedialer Übersetzung. Münster: Nodus, 9-20. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. (ed.) 1991 Literature and Other Media. Teaching German in the Age of Multimedia Communication. Tübingen: Narr. Hess-Lüttich, Emest W. B. (Hg.) 1992a Medienkultur - Kulturkonflikt. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag. Hess-Lüttich, Emest W. B. 1992b "Die Zeichenwelt der multimedialen Kommunikation", in: Hess-Lüttich, Emest W. B. (Hg.), Medienkultur - Kulturkonflikt. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag, 431450. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. 1994 "Codes, Kodes, Poly-Codes", in: Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. & Müller, Jürgen E. (eds.), Semiohistory and the Media. Linear and Holistic Structures in Various Sign Systems. Tübingen: Narr, 111-122. Hess-Lüttich, Emest W. B. & Holly, Werner & Püschel, Ulrich (Hg.) 1996 Textstrukturen im Medienwandel. Bem/Frankfurt/M./New York: Lang. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. & Müller, Jürgen E. (eds.) 1994 Semiohistory and the Media. Linear and Holistic Structures in Various Sign Systems. Tübingen: Narr. Hess-Lfittich, Emest W. B. & Posner, Roland (Hg.) 1990 Code-Wechsel. Texte im Medienvergleich. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag. Hiebel, Hans H. 1991 "Media, Tabelle zur Geschichte der Medien-Technik", in: Elm, Theo & Hiebel, Hans H. (Hg.), Medien und Maschinen. Literatur im technischen Zeitalter. Freiburg/Brsg.: Rombach, 186-224. Höllerer, Walter (Hg.) 1975 Sprache im technischen Zeitalter. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Holthuis, Susanne 1993 Intertextualität. Aspekte einer rezeptions-orientierten Konzeption. Tübingen: Stauffenburg. Illich, Ivan 1991 Im Weinberg des Textes. Frankfurt/M.: Luchterhand. Iser, Wolfgang 1984 Der Akt des Lesens. Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung, 2. Aufl. München: Fink. Jäger, Ludwig & Switalla, Bernd (Hg.) 1994 Germanistik in der Mediengesellschaft. München: Fink. Kittler, Friedrich A. 1985 Aufschreibesysteme 1800/1900. München: Fink.
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Kreuzer, Helmut 1975 Krol, Ed 1992 Kuhlen, Rainer 1991 Lachmann, Renate 1984 Lachmann, Renate 1990
Veränderungen des Literaturbegriffs. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. The Whole Internet. User 's Guide & Catalog. Sebastopol, CA: O'Reilly. Hypertext. Ein nicht-lineares Medium zwischen Buch und Wissensbank. Berlin: Springer. "Ebenen des Intertextualitätsbegriffs", in: Stierle, Karlheinz & Warning, Rainer (Hg.), Das Gespräch. München: Fink, 133-138. Gedächtnis und Literatur, Intertextualität Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp.
in der russischen
Moderne.
Lämmert, Eberhard 1995 "Der Kopf und die Denkmaschinen", in: Schmidt, Siegfried J. (Hg.), Empirische Literatur- und Medienforschung. Siegen: Siegen University Press, 9-23. Landow, George R 1992 Hypertext. The Convergence of Contemporary Critical Theory and Technology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press. Landow, George P. (ed.) 1994 Hyper/Text/Theory. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Laurel, Brenda (ed.) 1990 The Art of Human-Computer Interface Design. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Laurel, Brenda 1991 Computers as Theatre. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley. Ledgerwood, Mikle David 1997 "Hypertextuality and Multimedia Literature", in: Nöth, Winfried (ed.), Semiotics of the Media. State of the Arts, Projects, and Perspectives. Berlin/ New York: Mouton. (= Approaches to Semiotics 127), 547-558. Link, Jürgen & Parr, Rolf 1990 "Semiotische Diskursanalyse", in: Bogdal, Klaus Michael (Hg.), Neue Literaturtheorien. Opladen: Westdt. Verlag, 107-130. Lotman, Jurij Μ. 1972 Die Struktur literarischer Texte. München: Fink. Lotman, Jurij M. 1973 Die Struktur des künstlerischen Textes. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp. Mai, Hans-Peter 1991 "Bypassing Intertextuality-Hermeneutics, Textual Practice, Hypertext", in: Plett, Heinrich F. (ed.), Intertextuality. Berlin: de Gruyter, 30-59. Müller, Jürgen E. 1992 "Intermedialität als Provokation der Medienwissenschaft", Eikon 4/1992, 12-21. Müller, Jürgen E. (ed.) 1994 Towards a Pragmatics of the Audiovisual. Münster: Nodus. Nake, Frieder 1992 "Informatik und die Maschinisierung von Kopfarbeit", in: Coy, Wolfgang et al., Sichtweisen der Informatik. Braunschweig/Wiesbaden: Vieweg, 181-201. Nelson, Theodor Holm 1967 "Getting it Out of Our System", in: Schecter, George (ed.), Information Retrieval. A Critical View. Washington/London: Thompson/Academic Press, 191-210. Nelson, Theodor Holm 1987 Literary Machines. Vers. 87.1. Swathmore, ΒΑ: Τ. Η. Nelson. Nielsen, Jakob (ed.) 1990 Designing Interfaces for International Use. Amsterdam: Elsevier.
Towards a Narratology of Holistic Texts Nielsen, Jakob 1990 Nöth, Winfried 1985 Nöth, Winfried 1990 Nöth, Winfried 1994
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Hypertext and Hypermedia. Boston: Academic Press. Handbuch der Semiotik. Stuttgart: Metzler. Handbook of Semiotics. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. "Der Text als Raum", in: Haiwachs, Dieter W. et al. (Hg.), Sprache, Onomatopöie, Rhetorik, Namen, Idiomatik, Grammatik. Festschrift für Karl Sornig. Graz: Universität, 163-174.
Nöth, Winfried (ed.) 1997 Semiotics of the Media. State of the Arts, Projects, and Perspectives. Berlin/ New York: Mouton. (= Approaches to Semiotics 127) Nyce, James M. & Kahn, Paul (eds.) 1991 From Memex to Hypertext. Vannevar Bush and the mind's machine. Boston: Academic Press. Oellers, Norbert (Hg.) 1988 Germanistik und Deutschunterricht im Zeitalter der Technologie. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Pfister, Manfred 1985 "Konzepte der Intertextualität", in: Broich, Ulrich & Pfister, Manfred (Hg.), Intertextualität. Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1-30. Plett, Heinrich F. Textwissenschaft und Textanalyse. Semiotik, Linguistik, Rhetorik. Heidelberg: 1975 Quelle & Meyer. Plett, Heinrich F. (ed.) 1991a Intertextuality. Berlin: de Gruyter. Plett, Heinrich F. 1991 b "Intertextualities", in: Plett, Heinrich F. (ed.), Intertextuality. Berlin: de Gruyter, 3-29. Plowman, Lydia "Erzählung, Linearität und Intertextualität in Lern-Videos", Zeitschrift für 1994 Semiotik 16.1-2 (1994): 11-27. Posner, Roland 1985 "Nonverbale Kommunikation in öffentlicher Kommunikation", Zeitschriftfür Semiotik 7.3 (1985): 235-271. Rieger, Burghard "Wissensrepräsentation als Hypertext. Beispiel und Problematik einer Ver1994 stehenstechnologie", in: Jäger, Ludwig & Switalla, Bernd (Hg.), Germanistik in der Mediengesellschaft. München: Fink, 373-404. Riffaterre, Michel 1980 The Semiotics of Poetry. London: Methuen. Scheffer, Bernd •1992 Interpretation und Lebensraum. Zu einer konstruktivistischen Literaturtheorie. Frankfurt/M: Suhrkamp. Schlieben-Lange, Brigitte 1988 "Text", in: Aramon, Ulrich & Dittmar, Norbert & Mattheier, Klaus J. (eds.), Sociolinguistics Soziolinguistik. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1205-1215. Schmidt, Siegfried J. (Hg.) 1995 Empirische Literatur- und Medienforschung. Siegen: Siegen University Press. Schmidt, Siegfried J. 1996 "Medienkulturwissenschaft: Interkulturelle Perspektiven", in: Wierlacher, Alois & Stötzel, Georg (Hg.), Blickwinkel. Kulturelle Optik und interkulturelle Gegenstandskonstitution. München: iudicium, 803-810.
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Schönert, Jörg 1993
"Germanistik - eine Disziplin im Umbruch?", Mitteilungen des Deutschen Germanisten-Verbandes 40.3,15-24.
Schütz, Erhard (Hg.) 1988 Willkommen und Abschied der Maschinen. Literatur und Technik. Essen: Klartext. Segeberg, Harro (Hg.) 1987 Technik in der Literatur. Frankfurt/M: Suhrkamp. Slatin, John M. 1988 "Hypertext and the Teaching of Writing", in: BatTett, Edward (ed.), Text, ConText, and Hypertext. Writing with and for the Computer. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 111-129. Slatin, John M. 1991 "Reading Hypertext: Order and Coherence in a New Medium", in: Delany, Paul & Landow, George P. (eds.), Hypermedia and Literary Studies. Cambridge/MA: The ΜΓΓ Press, 153-170. Söring, Jürgen 1997 "Naturwerk - Kunstwerk - Machwerk. Maschinengang und Automatismus als poetologisches Prinzip", in: Söring, Jürgen & Sorg, Reto (Hg.), Die Androtden - Zur Poetologie der Automaten. Frankfurt/Bern/New York: Peter Lang, 9-51. Söring, Jürgen & Sorg, Reto (Hg.) 1997 Die Androtden - Zur Poetologie der Automaten. Frankfurt/Bern/New York: Peter Lang. Stierle, Karlheinz 1975 Text als Handlung. München: Fink. Stierle, Karlheinz 1984 "Werk und Intertextualität", in: Stierle, Karlheinz & Warning, Rainer (Hg.), Das Gespräch. München: Fink, 139-150. Stierle, Karlheinz & Warning, Rainer (Hg.) 1984 Das Gespräch. München: Fink. Weingarten, Rüdiger 1989 Die Verkabelung der Sprache. Grenzen der Technisierung von Kommunikation. Frankfurt/M: Fischer. Wiener, Norbert 1964 Mensch und Menschmaschine. Kybernetik und Gesellschaft. Frankfurt/ Bonn: Athenäum. Wierlacher, Alois & Stötzel, Georg (Hg.) 1996 Blickwinkel. Kulturelle Optik und interkulturelle Gegenstandskonstitution. München: iudicium. Worten, Michael & Judith Still (eds.) 1990 Intertextuality: Theories and Practice. Manchester/New York: Manchester University Press. Zander, Horst 1985 "Intertextualität und Medienwechsel", in: Broich, Ulrich & Pfister, Manfred (Hg.), Intertextualität. Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 178-196.
SERGIO CICCONI
Hypertextuality 1.
From Memex to
Hypertext
The line is made up ofan infinite number ofpoints, the plane of an infinite number of lines; the volume ofan infinite number ofplanes; the hypervolume ofan infinite number of volumes... No, unquestionably this is not- more geometrico -the best way to begin my story. To claim that it is true is nowadays the convention of every made-up story. Mine, however, "is " true. It is with these words that Borges-the-character - alter e g o o f Jorge Luis Boiges-the-writer - begins his tale about the Book of Sand, the metaphysical book that will torment his sleep. It is during a casual meeting with a Bible seller that Borges discovers the Book. I opened the book at random. The script was strange to me. The pages, which were worn and typographicallypoor, were laid out in double columns, as in a Bible. The text was closely printed, and it was ordered in versicles. In the upper corner of the pages were Arabic numbers. I noticed that one left-hand page bore the number (let us say) 40,514 and that facing right-hand page 999.1turned the leaf; it was numbered with eight digits. It also bore a small illustration, like the kind used in dictionaries - an anchor drawn with pen and ink, as if by a schoolboy's clumsy hand. ... [A]s if confiding a secret, he lowered his voice. "I acquired the book in a town out on the plain in exchange for a handful of rupees and a Bible. Its owner did not know how to read. I suspect that he saw the Book of Books as a talisman. He was of the lowest cast; nobody but other untouchable could treat his shadow without contamination. He told me his book was called the Book of Sand, because neither the book nor the sand has any beginning or end." The stranger asked me to find the first page. I laid my left hand on the cover page and, trying to put my thumb on the flyleaf, I opened the book. It was useless. Every time I tried, a number of page came between the cover and my thumb. It was as if they kept growing from the book. "Now find the last page." Again Ifailed. In a voice that was not mine, I barely managed to stammer, "This can't be." Still speaking in a low voice, the stranger said, "It can't be, but it 'is'." The number of pages in this book is no more or less than infinite. None is thefirstpage, none the last. I don't know why they are numbered in this arbitrary way. Perhaps to suggest that the terms of an infinite series admit any number."' In the introduction to his tale, Borges tells us that the Book of Sand is a volume of incalculable pages, an inconceivable and nightmarish object, "an obscene thing that defames and corrupts reality." In 1945, thirty years before the time Borges would conceive his Book of Sand, Vannevar Bush, engineer and Director of the Office of Scientific Research and Development, publishes in the Atlantic Monthly the essay "As We May Think," "Borges 1975: 118-119.
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describing therein a project for the realization of Memex, "a device in which an individual stores all his books, records, and communications, and which is mechanized so that it may be consulted with exceeding speed and flexibility."2 A variety of coordinates defines the theoretical field within which Bush operates for the development of his device: Leibniz's calculating machines, the theory of systems, automation, studies on filing procedures, "arithmetical electric machines" (ancestors of our contemporary computers), the first researches on connectivism and the parallel distribution of mental processes. Basically, the Memex is an optical-mechanical desk with "slanted translucid screens" capable of showing words and images: books, drawings, pictures, notes, newspapers, journals, and, in general, any sort of information that has previously been stored on microfilm. Moreover, the Memex allows the extension of its own database, since new documents can be dry-photographed and microfilmed through a device activated by sets of levers. The microfilms are filed according to an efficient system of indexing based on association, so that not only does the user have an easy and fast access to whatever document he is looking for, but he can also link together two different documents, and create a new microfilm that makes that correlation permanent. In brief, the Memex is, as Bush himself tells us, an enlarged intimate supplement to the user's memory; it is an attempt mechanically to duplicate the processes of human mind. It is not difficult to believe that, in telling us the story about his metaphysical monster, Borges did not know anything about the Memex. And, of course, Bush could not have read Borges's story while thinking about his flexible system enabling knowledge filing. Yet both Borges's and Bush's thoughts converge toward the same object: the book of books, the library of libraries, an infinite book. Abook that, within a finite space, can contain an infinite (or, at least, indeterminate, and, in any case, ideally endlessly extendable) amount of information. As a matter of fact, the Book of Sand does not provide (nor it wants to provide) us with the instructions for its construction, and, therefore, it remains the metaphysical object of a fantastic tale. On the other hand, Memex was never constructed. Although Bush believed that, during his age, complex and reliable machines with interchangeable parts could be constructed with great economy of effort, he never saw the realization of his machine. The idea of the magic book was in the air, ready to be used again, but the technology could not yet concretely produce it. After Bush's futuristic approach to the infinite book, twenty years have to pass by before somebody else takes an interest in the problem. In 1962, using Memex as a starting point, and believing - as Bush did - that the computer can be a valid instrument to increase the power of human intellect and imagination, just as the machines had augmented the performance of the human body, Doug Engelbart (the inventor of the word processor and the mouse), together with the psychologist J. C. R. Licklider, develop a system called Augment/NLS. The system is capable of filing and integrating a variety of pieces of information (articles, notes, comments, footnotes, projects) within a sort of "collective electronic journal," so that, through 2
Bush 1945: "Section 6." For an historical account of the development ofBush's Memex into the contemporary hypertext see Nelson 1987; Berk & Devlin 1991; Nielsen 1990; Bolter 1991; Woolley 1992: in part, chapters 7 and 8; Rovelli 1993; Vitali 1993a, 1993b.
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the computer, those pieces of information are shareable among (and re-shapeable by) different users.1 Yet, it is only Theodor Nelson who, in 1965, first speaks about hypertext, finally coining a name for the infinite book. Nelson says that the hypertext is "non-sequential writing, a branching text that allows the reader to make choices; it is something that can be best read in front of an interactive screen. [...] With a hypertext we can create new forms of writing that reflect the structure of what we write about; and the readers can choose different paths according to their attitudes and the stream of their thoughts, in a way until now believed to be impossible."4 At the time Engelbart works on Augment/NLS, the electronic components are already more easily available and more reliable: the electro-mechanical technology developed when Bush formulated his project for the Memex has been replaced by the electronic technology; the slanted translucid screens necessary for the projection of microfilms are now computer monitors; the mechanical levers have become buttons activating functions according to a program; in place of the microfilms, reproducing words and images on celluloid sheets, there are sequences of binary digits, easily storable on magnetic supports, and easily and quickly retrievable. So Nelson has the chance to conjugate Bush's ideas about the Memex with Engelbart's collective electronic journal, and he uses the new versatility of the electronic technology to elaborate Xanadu, a system that is "not only particularly easy to use for the unexperienced readers, but also easily extendible into extremely complex applications."5 This device, created to satisfy an unlimited but ordered growth of documents, should be thought of as an editing system for the storage of universal knowledge. Nelson's basic idea is a reformulation of Bush's: since each portion of knowledge - a document - is somehow connected to many other portions of knowledge, we need to elaborate a system enabling us to access both the single document, and all the other documents historically or logically linked to it. Starting from this presupposition, Nelson finds it convenient to organize the whole human knowledge in what he calls literature, that is, a "system in evolution of interconnected documents"; these documents constitute (and are part of) a complex, world-size network, whose portions are all accessible via computer by an unlimited number of users. According to this conception, the hypertext no longer is a form of text, but a new "medium" allowing us to read and/or interact (that is, to create personal reading sequences, personal links between texts, and personal annotations as well) with a whatever portion of literature by means of a single and efficient device. During the last years, many efforts have been made so as to make real something that, during Bush's age, could only seem a mechanical attempt to give shape to a dream, or to a structure of consciousness. The concrete realization of Xanadu (although in a reduced version, since there aren't yet the adequate technological, social, and economic conditions for the realization, on a world-wide scale, of the system for the management of the global literature as conceived by Nelson6) has become just one of the first steps of a more and more evident trend toward the J Cf. Nielsen 1990: 32. * Cf. Nelson's 1987 edition of Literary Machines, section 0/2-0/3. ' Ibid.: section 1/6. ' For a recent account of what is happening to the Xanadu project see Nelson 1994.
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production and use of hypertextual documents. Actually, we can find several programs for the generation of hypertexts (for example, HyperCard, Story Space or Toolbook for personal computers, and the HTML language for the World Wide Web, the large hypertextual space in Internet), and the market is opening up to already-made hypertexts (handbooks, encyclopedias, literary works, games), accessible both by the users of personal computers and by the users of the many networks of computers spread all over the world. Moreover, the textual analyses carried out within the structuralist and post-structuralist discourses have developed a more solid, theoretical context for the multiple and disintegrated text.7 By progressively extending their influence on a larger number of users, hypertexts, and, in general, a hypertextual logic not only will have a substantial role in reshaping the criteria through which information is created and exchanged, but will also dismantle the solidity of many paradigms now in use on the notions of text and textual analysis, and on the relationships between the authors and readers/ users of multimedial documents. 2.
The Elements ofHypertexts: Nodes and Links
On the basis of what we have seen, we should now try a closer approach to the magic book of books. At a first level of approximation, we can think of a hypertext as a set of pages connected one to another through sets of links. It should be noticed that such a basic definition is easily usable also when we want to identify the printed (or chirographic) texts we are familiar with. In this way, we can still maintain a contact between the conventional text and a whatever kind of hypertext, so as to be able to think of the hypertext as an evolving extension of the traditional text. On the other hand, the link text-hypertext is weak. Of course, each conventional text can be assimilated within a hypertext; and, in some cases, it is also possible that the content of a hypertext coincides with that of a given, traditional, verbal text. But if we deal with hypertexts we usually need to free ourselves from both a linear and fixed structure - typically used by the printed text - and the medial matter - the clay, the papyrus, the paper, the plastic - that most of the times is the vehicle for the contents of that structure. The computer is the medium for the production and reception of a hypertext; most of the times the access to the information contained in the pages of a hypertext is non-linear; those pages have a multimedial character; the fixation of a certain amount of knowledge within a certain amount of pages of a hypertext, and according to a particular organization, is only temporary, and subjected to a continuous revision and extension.
7
On some of the most important programs for the creation of hypertexts and on hypertextual works see Nielsen 1990; Berk & Devlin 1991; Rovelli 1993; on the critical and theoretical discourse on hypertexts, and on hypertextual applications more strictly related to humanities, see Bolter 1991; Delany & Landow 1991; Landow 1992,1994; Coover 1992,1993.
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Figure 1
The most common metaphors used in describing hypertexts are the network, the spider web, a game of Chinese boxes. It is easy enough to understand the reasons for such images by looking at one possible way of representing the organization of the pages of a traditional text (Figure 1) and of a hypertext (Figure 2).
Figure 2
2.1
Nodes
In both figures each letter within a circle represents a page of a text, or a particular "node" of a hypertext, that is a portion of the (hypertext easily identifiable by means of a whatever procedure of segmentation. Most of the time we can identify the page of a printed text as that portion of text contained within the borders of a sheet of paper with a given size and printed in accordance with a variety of typographic conventions. The hypertextual page seems to have similar characteristics: it is that portion of hypertext within a frame with the size of the monitor. But beyond the apparent, and almost banal similitude in the description of the two pages - both are inscribed within a finite space - there exist many substantial differences:
26
Sergio Cicconi (i) multimediality: each hypertextual page is multimedial, that is, is a portion of a document constructed through the integration of different medial matters (at the moment, mostly veibal, visual, and acoustic). Moreover, the hypertextual page can be thought of as a sort of electronic control-station. From the hypertextual page it is possible to access and coordinate a variety of multimedial applications: graphic programs for the production of pictorial (synthetic and photographic) images, and vectorial images (diagrams, schemata, tables); programs for the processing of verbal and visual components (word processors, editors, etc.), and for the creation of synthetic, "natural," and oral-verbal sounds. (ii) dynamicity: in a conventional (even if verbal and visual) text, the shapes and the layout of its constitutive elements are fixed at the moment the text is printed, and can be modified only if a new edition of that text is produced. Different is the case when we work with hypertexts. The constitutive elements of each hypertextual page, also called objects (pictorial images, graphs, diagrams, formulas, written or spoken verbal elements, sounds, noises, musical sequences, etc.), are constructed with different medial matters, and are dynamically linked to the page, so that it becomes possible to modify (not only during the process of composition, but also during the act of reading, that, in this way, also becomes act of re-writing) their shapes, their positions, and their functions. Moreover, each hypertextual page can easily include, anywhere within its local domain, new objects, each of which, in turn, can support its own programmable function(s). (iii) interactivity: through the use of"clickable buttons"" the reader has the opportunity to introduce on the page new objects that, although originally linked to the page, are not necessarily perceivable when the page is first accessed. We can think, for example, of diagrams, drawings, pictures, animations, and notes that are connected to given areas of the page, and activated (that is, made perceivable) only in accordance with certain choices made by the reader through the use of certain buttons. The new pieces of information work as comments on (or further explanation of) some portions or elements of the page. However, the buttons can also serve other purposes. Since the number of pages of a hypertext can be very large - indeed, potentially infinite - and since the multimedial objects present in each page can be constructed by using a variety of applicative products, it becomes necessary to include in each hypertextual page tools that facilitate both the navigation in a complex structure, and the creation, at any time, of whatever new multimedial object is needed. Then, the buttons become the sources for the access to these navigational facilities. On demand they can: (a) produce information on the meaning, the function(s), and the use of the different objects present within a hypertextual page; (b) produce information on how to access the applications used or usable for the construction of multimedial objects; (c) produce (structural and thematic) local and/or global maps of the territory of information controlled by the hypertext, so that, at any given moment, the reader can know her position within the hypertext, and the direction for further possible navigations; and (d) activate sets of commands allowing die navigation from one page to another.
2.2
Links
Until now, in analyzing Figure 2, we have only considered those elements that we have identified as nodes of a hypertext. But in taking into account also the lines connecting different couples of nodes, we should abandon the oversimplifying assumption according to which each node of a hypertext is identical with one of its »With the word "button" here we mean to identify a class of objects with certain properties, rather than the more specific "clickable object" usually called "button." In this more general sense, a button can be any identifiable portion or element of the page created so as to register the presence of and (in some cases) react to the mouse-pointer within its own domain, and/or to fulfill the particular task(s) for which it has been programmed (usually the execution of a "jump" to a linked object) once the mouse is clicked.
Hypertextuality
27
pages. As a matter of fact, each element - an object - of a hypertextual page (a button, a word, an image, etc.) containing a unitary fragment of information, and connectable with another object, can be thought of as a node of the hypertext. In this way, we can distinguish the nodes according to the different medial matters they are made of (graphic/iconic-nodes, verbal-nodes, acoustic-nodes, and, in the future, maybe also tactile-nodes and olfactory-nodes) and, according to the informative contribution, more or less local, they supply (object-nodes, page-nodes, hypertext-nodes). On the basis of such specifications it should be easy to see that the object previously identified as hypertextual page becomes now a page-node, that is, a portion of a multimedial document centralizing and coordinating a series of object-nodes, each of which has to be conceived as a (temporarily) minimal signifying hypertextual unit. If now we go back to Figure 2, we can finally define the lines connecting different portions of the hypertextual document: each of these lines - hypertextual links - shows the existence of a relationship between two nodes of the hypertext. The type of relationship is determined on the basis of the medial matter die nodes are made of, or on the basis of the kind of association(s) the author of the hypertext wants to establish between the data contained in each couple of nodes, so as to fulfill one of the more or less local tasks for which the hypertext has been created. By means of these links we can connect: (a) different object-nodes (each of which can be a verbal-node, a graphic-node, an acoustic-node, or a node obtained through the integration of different pieces of information created with different medial matters) contained in the same page-node; (b) an object-node of a certain page-node with a different page-node, or with an object-node of a different page-node; and (c) an object-node of a page-node with a hypertext-node (that is, an object-node or a page-node belonging to a different hypertextual document). In all these cases, it is by using some buttons that the user can "jump" from one node to another. Then, we can extend the concept of interactivity, already utilized to describe one of the properties of a hypertextual page, to the whole hypertext. We can say that a hypertext is interactive because it allows the reader to choose for his or her own personal and often unique path of navigation through the nodes, and for the operations to carry out with the object-nodes present in each page-node.9 » For a more detailed discourse on writing hypertexts cf. the "Section V: Designing Hypertexts" in Berk & Devlin 1991: 143-226. In particular, the essay by H. Van Dyke Parunak, "Ordering Information Graph," proposes a very detailed typology of possible links. For the purpose of this work, it is enough to mention three main classes of link types useful in hypermedial works: the association links, reflecting various ways in which one node brings another to mind (for example, a word referring to an object linked to an image of that object); the aggregation links, joining a node that represents a whole with its parts (for example, a page-node linked to its object-nodes); the revision links, joining a node to earlier and later versions of itself, so as to create a history of that node.). Cf. pp. 299-325. Besides these more technical specifications, when talking about interactivity we should take into account an important distinction made by M. Joyce (see 1991a, 1991b) between exploratory and constructive hypertexts. In order to grasp such a distinction we should assume that during the act of "reading" a hypertext a reader can understand the rhetorical tools used in/by the hypertext, that is, can recognize a pre-existing logic and some given structures and contents. Moreover, the reader can introduce some transformations into the hypertext, and can therefore extend or modify the logic, the structures or the contents of the original hypertext. Taking for
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3.
Other Properties of Hypertexts: Non-Linearity and Unlimitedness
Because of their working with nodes and links, hypertexts favor a reading that goes from-object-to-object, from-theme-to-theme, from-document-to-document. Of course, it is easy to imagine that this form of reading is inevitably affecting the way readers approach, interpret, and use the pieces of information found in hypertexts. Then, we need to have afirmerunderstanding of what, in a general sense, reading hypertexts is, and we also need to see how this particular form of reading differs from the more traditional forms to which we are accustomed. In order to do so, we now also consider two other important properties of hypertexts: non-linearity and unlimitedness. 3.1
Non-Linearity
During the reading of a traditional printed or manuscript text the reader is forced to go from left to right, from up to down, from page 1 to page 2 and then to page 3, and so on. If we consider a verbal written text whose pages are organized according to a structure similar to the one presented in Figure 1, in which each circle with a letter stands for a page of the text, we can describe the reading of the text as the act of production of the sequence: [a-b-c-d]. Of course there are cases, especially in fiction and poetry, in which the author of a text wants the reader to follow more than one reading path; and it is often the case that the reader has to go back to sections that he or she has already read in order to better understand the meaning of those sections;10 but in most occasions, the above sequence can be assumed to regranted that all hypertexts should allow these changes, we should then base our distinction between exploratory and constructive hypertexts on what the hypertexts do with those changes. In the case of an exploratory hypertext we have a hypertext that clones itself each time it is accessed, so that the reader "owns" and works with a personal copy of the original hypertext, and the transformations introduced by the reader into the text only affect the copy, leaving the original version untouched. On the contrary, in the case of constructive hypertexts, there are no copies. The changes a reader introduces into the hypertext will modify the text itself, so that each new reader will have to confront with the active readings of all the previous readers. In this case, the text is in constant evolution, and its "original" version always coincides with its latest version. Yet, the text is constructed in such a way that each of its versions is somehow able to maintain a sort of textual identity, that is, to perform reliably in much the same way for all the readers. The difference here is not simply technical. It implies a very different relationship between the text and its readers, and a different understanding of the concept of interaction thought of as active participation. In fact, in the exploratory hypertexts the degree of co-authoring is somehow nullified by the impossibility the reader has to really modify the original texts, that, in this way remains a static object simulating dynamicity. On the other hand, in the case of constructive hypertexts, the reader concretely becomes co-author of the texts. (S)he is part of the community of the co-creators of the texts; (s)he is endowed with the power of action and interaction, and, knowing that the transformations produced by his/her reading will affect the readings of future readers, (s)he must inevitably confront with a more responsible approach to the texts. 10
There are some works of fiction that can be thought of as "pre-hypertextual" and that theorize about and/or produce a breaking down of the linearity of the narration and plunge the reader into a narrative universe within which identical situations repeat themselves, or contradictory events co-exist. Just to remind a few titles, we can think, for example, of the hyper-quoted The Garden
Hypertextuality
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spect the design chosen by the author of the text according to some conventions of reading, so that the reader usually takes for granted that page 2 will follow page 1, and will be followed by page 3." In any case, the sequence represents the unique ofForking Paths, by J. Luis Borges; in this dense short-story Borges describes a book-labyrinth containing infinite, parallel stories whose plots develop in infinite, forking spaces and times. Or we can also think about Robbe-Grillet's novel Dans le Labyrinth, telling of the random-like movements of an explorer (the reader) in the act of following the circular wanderings of a soldier within a city. Over and over, the soldier and the explorer go through the same streets and the same corridors and the same rooms and the same stairs, or streets and corridors and rooms and stairs of a portion of the city-labyrinth only slightly different from the one they have just left; or they find themselves trapped into situations that resemble one another, until they get lost within the complex time and space created by the novel-labyrinth. And something similar happens in Coover's The Babysitter. The main character of the story, the babysitter, is imprisoned in a multifaced space and time, and is often forced to experience in-econcilable situations (at the end of the story she is alive and dead, she is raped by a man that, at the same time, cannot get close to her, and so on) narrated in the different chapters that, linearly, follow one another in the story. On these and on other authors (such as Butor, Calvino, Cortazar, Joyce, Perec, Pynchon, Queneau, Saporta, Vonnegut) who have developed, in a way or another, what we can call a pre-hypertextual narrative logic see, for example, Moulthrop 1991a, 1991b; Bolter 1991; Landow 1992; Rees 1994. In any case, we should notice that, although texts such those just mentioned tiy to organize their narrative structures according to a non-linear principle, they still need a linear reading, since they cannot get rid of the linear coercions imposed upon them by the printing technology (in The Babysitter the events described in chapter [n] will always be read (at least during the first reading) after the events narrated in chapter [n-1], no matter if they come before (logically or chronologically) the ones presented in chapter [n-1]). ii The analysis of a complex concept such as linearity would take us too far away from the focus of this work. Yet, if we deal with hypertexts and hypertextual logic we cannot avoid at least questioning what often seems to be taken for granted, that is, the notion of linearity in connection with those conventions that are used in order to perceive, organize, read, and interpret texts. Without pretending here to be rigorous we can say the following: statements are supposed to attribute properties and relations to some state of affairs in the world. An argument is defined as a group of statements such that one or more statements are said to support or provide evidence for one other statement. Logic is defined as the study of the organization of statements within arguments, or a technique by which we can test the acceptability of an argument. From this follows that when we talk about linear logic we refer to a particular way of organizing statements within arguments. Although the lack of precision here might be somehow misleading, what we said should be enough to stress the idea that linear logic is a culturally constructed way of organizing and evaluating statements, and the notion of linearity itself belongs to a system of definition that is everything but naturally and universally given. Yet, because of the extensive use of linear logic over the centuries, in a large variety of contexts and for a large variety of statements, the artificiality of the concept of linearity has lost its visibility, and, most of the times, linearity is (erroneously) perceived as the natural way of dealing with events, and of structuring cognition. Since, according to this commonly accepted view, linear logic seems to be the best, most natural way of dealing with events, and since we can think of texts as particular experiential events, or as (mostly verbal) objects identified, segmented, and combined according to some "natural" principles, we often end up identifying the "natural" principles of linear logic with the "natural" rules - the conventions - determining and governing the act of reading texts. It is then with these few ideas in mind that we should try to think about the concept of nonlinearity in connection with hypertexts and with the conventions of reading. In its more general sense, non-linearity implies both the denial (or, at least, the extension and restructuring) of that particular cultural way of organizing textual units that we have called linear, and the construction of new, artificial, and alternative ways of defining those units and combining them in larger objects, therefore determining new conventions of reading.
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and unchangeable order of the elements of the text thought of as physical objects, or as chains of signifiers to which the reader has to assign meaning and, in so doing, produce an interpretation. The situation is very different when we move through pieces of information organized according to structures similar to the one presented in Figure 2. By using buttons in the first node, the node [a] (which can be a page-node, but also an object-node), we can reach three different nodes: [b], [c] and [j]; and from each of these nodes we can go to others. In this way, from [a] we can reach [j] through different possible paths ([a—j], [a-c-e-g-j], [a-b-d-h-f-i-g-j]; or we have a chance to go back to a node we have already examined, and from that, on the basis of the knowledge acquired through the reading, to go toward nodes not yet explored (for example, the sequence [a-b-d-h-f-h-d-e...]). These are some of the possibilities allowed by a non-linear (or discontinuous) approach to the textual units of hypertexts. Certainly, hypertexts organized according to a structure similar to the one shown in Figure 2 are still closed and finite textual units, in which the number of possible navigable paths is determined by the number of nodes and by the types of links connecting the nodes one to another. On the other hand, similar hypertexts make it possible for the reader to interact with the text (see note 9), and to choose both the steps to go through during the reading, and the quality and quantity of the operations to cany on with the multimedial materials encountered while navigating.
3.2
Unlimitedness
Another important property characterizing hypertexts, and connected to their being non-linear, is their unlimitedness. We have seen that each hypertextual page-node can have a variable (and, sometimes, very large) number of object-nodes; a number that is theoretically limited only by the capabilities of the hypertextual program. The same principle applies, more in general, to nodes: ideally, each node can be linked with other nodes belonging to the same hypertext, or with nodes present in other compatible hypertexts. Moreover, each node can be considered as the starting-point for new branches/paths that can be added at any time. And of course, by allowing this process of expansion and remodeling of their own structures and contents, hypertexts strongly encourage the integration of portions of knowledge that, although potentially connectable, are normally unrelated. Given the importance of the integrative power of the hypertexts, we should try to examine it more in detail. Let us consider a simple document, for example the text represented in Figure 1. As we have previously done, we can assume that the text is verbal and printed, since in our culture, strongly affected by the typographic technology, we often identify texts with printed texts. Like any other printed text, our text [T] contains a finite amount of pieces of information formally organized according to a series of choices made by the author. These pieces of information compose a local knowledge [LK] about a particular portion of world [WP]. By using hypertexts, the text [T] can be easily integrated within a non-linear structure organizing in a more comprehensive way a serious of local knowledges [LK.] given in other texts [T.] somehow related to that portion of world [WP] (see Figure 3).
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The inclusion of [T] within a structure organizing the elements of the hypertexts according to non-linear logic should not be considered an operation affecting the structure of [T], In the hypertext, the branch reproducing [T] will still maintain its original linear form, so that the access to [T], even though through the monitor, can still be linear. Yet, on a larger scale, things would be different (although, in this case, it is also possible to conceive a "non-conventional" reading of [T], starting from any one of its pages/sections and proceeding - through a series of non-linear jumps - to other pages/sections). Contrarily to what would happen if [T] were an isolated textual unit, through that process of integration we can see and use [T] as the temporary terminal text-node of a complex structure that allows its own extendibility from each of its nodes. This means that although we can still read [T] linearly, we can also choose to deal with [T] or with each of its sections according to a supplemental non-linear logic. It is then in this sense that it becomes reasonable to think - as Nelson does when he proposes Xanadu as an integrated editing system for the filing of knowledge - about the realization of a global literature including and connecting in a world-wide web all the possible multimedial documents - not only those already created, but also those that will be created in the future.12
12 As a matter of fact, this is exactly what happens in Internet with the evolution of HTML (Hypertext Markup Language) and the possibility for each user of the net to create pages in WWW that are accessible by everybody (these pages are the equivalent of a multiplicity of texts that in Figure 3 we have called [T]).
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Hypertexts and the Representation of Knowledge
We have seen that a hypertext is a potentially unlimited network made of nodes and links, with access that is not necessarily linear, organized according to a defined but modifiable and extendible structure; it is a concrete object created through the computer and usable on the computer. Each node is a segment of a complex multimedial communicate13 that can contain: (a) information on a given domain of a possible world, or portion of the world; (b) a set of commands through which the user can have instructions on how to access the material contained in the node, and on how to navigate from that node to another; (c) a set of commands enabling the transition from the node to another; and (d) a set of commands enabling the user to create new nodes and new links. On the other hand, until now we have only briefly analyzed the main properties of hypertexts in a mostly structural way, that is, without taking into account die fact that such properties introduce substantial changes into the processes of creation and perception of multimedial communicates. For centuries our Western culture has used the printed medium as the privileged tool for the production, the transmission, and the re-production of knowledge, and, quite often, it has tried to organize this knowledge according to a linear and propositional logic. But the hypertextual logic breaks away the limits imposed upon us by such linear thinking and forces us to move on toward a reshaping of the ways we use in order to acquire, organize, and re-produce knowledge. So it is time now to try to have an understanding about the innovative and somehow disruptive power the hypertextual logic has on the remodeling of our mental processes and, therefore, on the ways we think about the world. We should assume that perception, recognition, classification, logical reasoning, and all the other cognitive operations we normally use are particular, cultural ways of conceptualizing sensorial inputs and organizing them into knowledge about the world, so that the forms of conceptualization and organization developed by different cultures are very likely to be different. So, if we want to be able to understand the impact hypertexts have on us we need, first of all, to identify some of the cognitive architectures devised by our Western culture - nowadays as well as in the past - in order to represent the knowledge about the world, and then to see if and how hypertexts reinforce, extend, or radically modify these forms of representation. Although it is not our intention here to work out the details of such a demanding enterprise, it is nonetheless important to point out at least a possible direction for further explorations of the problem. In the search for a manageable definition of one contemporary form of representation of knowledge we follow a useful suggestion found in an essay by Eco on the history of representation of knowledge.14 13
In the rest of this work we use the word "communicate" to indicate a multimedial object (a document, or a "text") placed within a communicative situation. Cf. Petöfi 1989/90. κ Eco 1981: 39-50. On similar ideas see also Ong 1982; Bolter 1991; Barrett 1992; Burnett 1993. Of course, it should be noted that the following hierarchical and linear division of the evolution of Western cognition into four grand historical avenues, accepted here for the sake of simplicity, is rather questionable. In fact, it is unproblematically grounded on the assumption that there
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According to Eco, we can identify at least four major different attitudes our Western culture has had toward the encyclopedic enterprise, that is, the attempt to create a system unifying all the pieces of knowledge about the world available to a certain culture in a certain age. During the Hellenistic civilization we find a cumulative organization of knowledge, unconditionally gathering a variety of data on the world without really wondering about the truthfulness or falsity of what has been collected. Later on, during the Middle Ages, the data about the world are weighed up and composed according to a precise hypothesis about the form of the world. The result is knowledge organized within a hierarchic structure - a tree-like structure analogous to the assumed structure of the world - using binary disjunctions to proceed from the general to the particular, from the one to the many, from the Creator to the multitude of created things. The third model, proposed during the Enlightenment Age, is not very different from the previous one: the tree-like structure is maintained, and, again, the knowledge about the world is organized within a system of reference created according to a certain view on the form of the world. The difference here lies in the attitude guiding the organization of knowledge within that system: now, there is the awareness that the hierarchic structure no longer reproduces the form of the world; that structure is seen only as the most functional and economic way of representing and organizing the data on the world. This awareness allows a finer and more intense work on the definition of the intermediate paths among the different nodes of the tree-like system; it determines the development of particular sub-trees, each of which is in charge of organizing, still in a hierarchic way, the information about a certain domain of knowledge. These sub-trees, once connected to one another, compose the tree carrying the knowledge about the world, the Encyclopedic Tree as defined in the project of creation of the Encyclopedia of the Enlightenment. Such a tree becomes a map, a guide for the global and local motions within the land of knowledge. Finally, we come to a fourth form of representation of the knowledge about the world; it has not been thrown away, yet; it is the contemporary form. Eco calls it the structural representation of a semiotic encyclopedia. The amount of information at our disposal is enormous; the variety of data and cognitive tools used to make those data 'Visible" is huge. It is clear that the creation of a stable and unitary frame/system organizing in a permanent way and according to one universal truth such a multiplicity of knowledges seems to be an unfeasible project. Of course, we cannot avoid the realization of an organizing system, but this becomes an unlimited and constantly changing structure, an open project, a dynamic system coordinating other dynamic systems, each of which, on turn, organizes - in a more local way, and in accordance with more local and partial (scientific, philosophical, literexists a "total" and unitary history within which each historical moment is the inevitable (and logical) consequence of all (and only) the other previous moments. A more detailed analysis of the transformations of Western cognition, impossible here to carry out, should certainly try to see and work with histories rather than one history, and think of them as dynamic, complex, transgressive, and discontinuous processes generating those multiple knowledges Foucault, among others, has taught us to think about. On the other hand, the fourth form of representation here introduced, the structural representation of a semiotic encyclopedia, tries to account, although in a still generic way, for the presences of this multitude of knowledges about the world.
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ary, psychological, religious, artistic, etc.) views of the world - certain more limited and handy aggregates of information. This representation has the shape of a labyrinth with potentially infinite dimensions. It allows a multiplicity of paths and the constant remodeling of its own structures and contents. As Eco puts it, this representation is a network of "definitions taking the place of other definitions, of situations clarifying the meaning of a term, [...] of visual representations explaining verbal expressions, and vice versa, [...] of synonyms organized in chains."15 Eco gives a name to this representation, rhizome, reminding us the vegetable metaphor suggested by Deleuze and Guattari in the introduction to their Mille Plateaux.16 "A rhizome," they write, "like an underground stem, completely differs from roots and radicles. Bulbs and tubers are rhizomes. [...] The rhizome in itself has very different forms: from its superficial extension, branching in all directions, up to its concretions, becoming bulbs and tubers."17 Here, it seems convenient to recall some of the properties of a rhizomatic structure, as defined by Deleuze and Guattari: (a) each part of the rhizome can be connected with any other part, and it must be; (b) in a rhizome there are no dots or positions, as we find in tree-like or root-like structures; in a rhizome there are only lines; (c) any part of a rhizome can be broken up; it will grow again, following one of the lines; (d) the rhizome is anti-genealogical; (e) the rhizome always has its own outside, with which it makes rhizome; (f) the rhizome is not a cast, but a map; the map is open, it can be connected with something else, in each of its dimensions; it can be taken to pieces, put upside-down; it is open to continuous modifications; (g) a network of trees, branching out in any direction, can make rhizome (that is to say that a partial network of trees can be artificially cut out from any rhizome); (h) the rhizome has no center, so that in it the local initiatives can be coordinated independently from a central or original instance.
Now, many ideas seem to find a converging point: the book of sand, the library of libraries, the Memex, the global literature, the semiotic encyclopedia, the rhizome, the multimedial communication on a world-wide scale. It is hypertext the focus of this bundle of ideas. Until a few years ago the global semantic encyclopedia with a rhizomatic structure, keeper of universal knowledge, could only be an ideal concept. "This encyclopedia does not exist" - Eco writes at the end of his essay - "yet, it is the totality of what humanity has said, and it has a material existence, since what has been said is preserved through books, paintings, films, behaviors, architectonic constructions, laws, roads... [...] The encyclopedia of the forth form is important exactly because it does not exist as a recognizable object. [...] It is the universe of culture, and is not visible within a volume. At least, not within a single volume."18 Nowadays, just a few years after the time that essay was written, can we still say that this encyclopedia of the fourth form does not exist? Then to what do the properties of hypertexts refer? Aren't hypertexts one concrete realization of the comIbid.: 49. ι» Deleuze & Guattari 1980: 9-37. ι' Ibid.: 14. ι» Eco 1981: 50.
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plex rhizomatic structures ruling the forms o f the semiotic encyclopedia? It is clear that that encyclopedia accounting, in just one single volume, for the totality o f human knowledge is still and will be an ideal project, but the creation o f n e w hypertextual communicates, along with the translation o f a great amount o f data into a non-linear, extendible, changeable, unified (but with multiple centers) and electronic form, has brought us one step closer to that ideal. We said that our age is the age o f multiplicity," and that the hypertexts s e e m to be the best tools w e have at our disposal to somehow contain and control - no matter how imperfectly - the encyclopedia that becomes the contemporary memory o f our knowledge and describes the multiplicity. A s w e have already said, it is not too difficult to imagine that the new access w e have to multiple domains o f knowledge through the medium hypertext is going to reshape our mental processes, as it had already happened many other times in the past.20 So, w e should n o w try to take a look at some o f the possible consequences that the never-ending extendibility o f a variety o f multimedial pieces o f information stored in hypertextual form has on the way w e deal with knowledge. Of course, w e should consider that the extension o f a certain domain o f knowledge obtained through the integration o f new, local portions o f knowledge is not a '»Of course, Eco is certainly not the only writer dealing with multiplicity as contemporary form of representation of (the) world(s). For example, in offering us some values, qualities, or peculiarities of what he thinks will be the literature of next millennium, Italo Calvino writes in his influential book Six Memos for the Next Millennium (Calvino 1988) that the contemporary novel can be seen as "an encyclopedia, as a method of knowledge, and above all as a network of connections between the events, the people, and the things in the world" (cf. Calvino 1988: 105). And he continues: "[i]n our own times literature is attempting to realize the ancient desire to represent the multiplicity of relationships, both in effect and in potentiality. [...] Literature remains alive only if we set ourselves immeasurable goals, far beyond all hope of achievement. Only if poets and writers set themselves tasks that no one else dares imagine will literature continue to have a function. Since science has begun to distrust general explanations and solutions that are no sectorial and specialized, the grand challenge for literature is to be capable of weaving together the various branches of knowledge, the various 'codes,' into a manifold and multifaced vision of the world." (ibid.: 113) Writers such as Borges, Cortazar, Coover, Joyce, Musil, Pynchon, Perec, Queneau, Robbe-Grillet and Calvino himself are only few names of those who pursued this grand challenge. This is not the place for a further account on how this concept of multiplicity has been developed in the different fields that compose the labyrinth-like structure of our contemporary encyclopedia. But in dealing with the theme of multiplicity as a form of contemporary knowledge we should not forget, of course, about the existence of a by-now large body of works written by post-structuralist (and post-modern) philosophers and critics on the dismantlement of hierarchic thinking and on the decentralized-multiple-multivocal text, promoting the free game of structures and a multiplicity of interpretations as initially theorized by Derrida. Good starting points for explicit connections between deconstruction, hypertexts and a logic of multiplicity are Bolter 1991; Landow 1992, 1994; Morin 1993; Poundstone 1985, 1988. 20 Indeed, it is enough to recall Walter Ong's account of the mutations human thought went through during the millennia to realize that we are now at the turning point of a new huge cultural change. Orality, chirography, print; for each of these steps a revolution occurred in the human mind: the oral formulaic thinking was only alive in an aural space; it changed with the invention of the written word and then changed again with the coming of the printed word: free from formula, it could extend itself, look at itself, correct itself, reproduce itself, wander within a space that was no longer organized according to sounds, but more and more according to marks in a visual space.
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practice recently acquired by our culture with the coming of hypertexts. As we have seen, a large part of the history of the acquisition of knowledge can easily be thought of as the history telling the attempts to organize and unify knowledge within a system as complete and unitary as possible. In this context, hypertexts, reproducing in an electronic form an already well-known series of practices and operations used in the management of multimedial data, may not seem to offer a very innovative way of organizing knowledge. On the other hand, we must also consider that, normally, and for many different reasons, we are not always easily able to access all the mono-medial or multi-medial communicates produced during the centuries (that is, theoretically, all the verbal, visual, acoustic, olfactory, and tactile communicates that have been somehow fixed in any sort of physical material). It is not difficult to imagine such cases: it should be enough to think, for example, about the problems due to the physical distance often existing between the location - a library, an institution, a museum, a theater where one particular piece of information is stored, and the location where one possible user of that piece of information is. Or we could also consider the fact that many places constructed to store the heritage of a culture do not necessarily make it easy to access the communicates they are meant to preserve. Even in the best possible situation (or, more likely, the most common one), if we want to read a particular printed, verbal and accessible text, we are often forced to go through the traditional time-consuming systems of research: we need to go to one or more libraries, to consult the local (not always electronic) database, to ask for the text, or look for it in the shelves, and so on. Besides, once we have that text, if we want to create a network of intertextual links with and around that text, we need to refer again to other texts - primary and critical texts, as well as handbooks, encyclopedia, dictionaries, journals - each of which, in turn, sends us back to more operations of research, possibly more libraries, and so on. Our experience of that text would be different if we could work with its electronic translation. First of all, we could have access, via computer, to all the text components contributing to the constitution of that text thought of as a signcomplex.21 Moreover, if that text were part of a large hypertextual network - the network of global literature Nelson talks about, or WWW in Internet - we could
21 We use here the idea of text as a sign-complex as defined by Jinos Sändor Petöfi (see, for example, Petöfi 1990,1992). The model of sign-complex identifies the semiotic components of a sign as well as the formal and semantic architectonics that can be built with such components, and that describe, respectively, the signifier and the signified of a sign. By using this model of sign-complex it is possible to account not only for the verbal component of whatever kind of text, but also for its possible non-verbal (that is visual, acoustic, tactile, olfactory, gustative) components. Let us say that, for example, we want to consult the copy of an ancient manuscript, and that, for philological reasons, we need to have access not only to its verbal part, but also to its physical manifestation, that is, the configuration of physical objects (the organization of the characters on the page, the characters used, their font, their size, their colors, some images, etc.) that together constitute the complex signifier (or chain of signifiers) of that text. While in many cases the access to the original text would be almost impossible, through a databank organized in hypertextual form we could easily obtain an electronic copy of the manuscript, and we could also easily access both its verbal and its non-verbal components and construct formal and semantic architectonics relative to it.
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quickly access, via the same computer, a great number of verbal and non-verbal communicates that have a link with our text. We can think, for example, about the possibility of having at our disposal at once all the translations ever made of that text; or to be able to listen to a symphony inspired by the reading of that text; or to be able to see a copy of a movie based on that text; or a series of pictures and drawings visually illustrating some of the events described in the text, and so on. Hypertexts promote this essentially intertextual approach to texts.22 But, by doing so, hypertexts do more than just favor intertextuality. As soon as they allow the fast access to a variety of multimedial communicates and make it easy to find and retrieve pieces of information otherwise much more difficult to access by means of the traditional techniques of research, not only do they increase the efficiency of an already existent practice, but they also modify the impact these data have on us, and on the ways we use them in order to (re)produce discourses. Indeed, we must remember that the production of interpretations related to any kind of multimedial communicate is strictly connected at least to two complex factors: first, the communicative situation within which the communicate is placed; second, the knowledge about the world the interpreter possesses and uses for dealing with (that is, defining, "seeing," understanding) the communicate. In other words, if we want to be able to adequately account for the process of production of interpretations connected to a communicate we should have at our disposal: (a) a wellarticulated and flexible model describing the constitutive elements characterizing a large variety of contexts within which a given sign-complex can be placed during the act of communication (i.e., private and social, scientific, philosophical, psychological, psychoanalytical, political, artistic, bureaucratic, religious, mystical, clinical, pathological, etc., contexts), and (b) a manageable model about the still rather vague notion of knowledge about the world, that is, the systems of verbal and nonverbal competences, values, beliefs, notions, ideologies, hypotheses, physical dispositions, etc. possessed by the interpreter.23 22
For an analysis of the intertextual work carried out through hypertexts, and of the theoretical, psychological, and political problems connected to the development of the new information technologies applied to the literary practice see Mai 1991. See also Bukatman 1995; Delany & Landow 1991; Landow 1992, 1994. " It should be noted that, if we want to adequately account for the changes the new electronic technologies and hypertexts will introduce in the remodeling of our cognitive architectures the definition of these models becomes a crucial point. As a matter of fact, many different disciplines have tried to come up with more or less effective models describing some or all the components here mentioned, as well as sets of relationships among these components. It should be enough to remember the many works carried out in psychoanalysis, cognitive psychology, artificial intelligence, communication theory, linguistics, semiotics, philosophy, sociology, and critical theory. On the other hand, it should also be clear that in the age of the semiotic encyclopedia it is theoretically impossible (and also rather useless) to define and know, once and forever, all the possible components of these models and all their reciprocal interactions, since the existence of these components is always allowed by a theory and, in turn, the theory is a cultural (that is, artificial) construction. Therefore, the models should be thought of as incomplete, dynamic, evolving "objects" that try to describe, through a certain perspective, the behaviour of certain complex phenomena. On this, see, for example, Eco 1976, 1979; McQuail 1993; Petöfi 1990, 1992. On the vain quest for a model of models capable of describing the universe see also Calvino's ironic voice in the chapter titled "The Model of Models" in the novel Mr. Palomar.
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Once we have at least a way of describing a variety of communicative situations and of attitudes of the interpreters, we should also be able to modify our descriptions, so as to include the descriptions of new pieces of knowledge about the world and of previously undefined communicative contexts and attitudes of the interpreters created by or related to the new electronic technologies (i.e., cyberspace, virtual reality, multimedial spaces, and so on). In such a way we should be able to understand how certain communicates (those that are normally identified as conventional texts) are perceived, interpreted, and used by "conventional users" (that is, those users identified and described by the models) both in "conventional" and in new and "non-conventional" communicative situations. Moreover, we should also have a better understanding on how certain other "less conventional" communicates (those here identified as hypertexts) are perceived, interpreted, and used by "conventional" and "non-conventional users" in both "conventional" and "nonconventional" communicative situations.24 This is not the place for a further analysis on the various effects hypertexts will have on our culture and on the ways we will use them to represent knowledge. Yet, it seems important to end this work with at least another brief remark. If it is true, as Ong told us, that our history is the history of the technologizing of the word, then the electronified word, hypertextualized and plunged into a multimedial universe, will surely favor the configuring of a new phase in that process of remodeling our cognitive architectures started a few millennia ago with the invention of the aural word. Chirographic writing, and, later, typographic writing, have strongly 24
Of course, it is easier said than done. Here, we want to just hint at the complexity of the problem on how the recontextualization of multimedial communicates affects the way we perceive them, and, consequently, our capability to produce interpretations about them. To begin with, we should remember that the production of an interpretation of non-computerized and non-interactive multimedial communicates is already rather problematic, since contrarily to what happens with verbal language, we cannot apply the principle of double articulation to visual components (photographs, pictures, paintings, icons, etc.). That means that it is rather difficult (if not impossible) to And a finite repertoire of discrete pictorial elements and of codes clearly relating these elements to a unifying (and as general as possible) "visual language." Consequently, the attribution of meaning to communicates containing visual elements - usually with a high degree of poly-semanticity - strongly relies on the particular context(s) within which the communicates are placed. If then we also include in our multimedial communicates acoustic (verbal and musical) components we reach a level of complexity that becomes very hard to describe and control. (This difficulty is well-known in film analysis, where the attempts so far made to develop a general "language of film" dealing with verbal, visual, and acoustic elements and capable of describing all possible features of all possible movies have proved to be quite unsuccessful. See, for example, Metz 1974; Aumont & Bergala & Marie & Vernet 1983; Casetti & Di Chio 1994.) To add complexity to an already complex problem there is the fact that when we deal with computerized and interactive multimedial communicates (such as hypertexts), we have to cope with: (a) floating signifiers (if, for example, by means of interactivity, we combine together two different images, the signifier thus obtained is only temporarily fixed (by us) in the monitor. Moreover, we can consider those two images either as two different signifiers coexisting in the space of the monitor, or as one signifier obtained through the act of temporary integration of the two); (b) floating, fuzzy contexts (since the interactive activity makes it very difficult to decide, at any given moment, what is (are) the signifier(s) and what is (are) its (their) context(s) within (i) space of the monitor, (ii) the sub-spaces defined by different windows present at once on the monitor).
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modelled the organization of our thoughts, so much that now we tend to think of the linear and propositional structures of printed books as the most faithful representations of the way we organize thinking. But in spite of the paradigmatization of the "printed-thought," a printed text is a very vague (and artificial) approximation of the flow of our thoughts. "The structure of thinking," writes Theodor Nelson, "is not, in itself, sequential. It is a system of intertwined ideas. [...] No idea necessarily comes before or after another; organizing these ideas according to a sequential presentation is a complex and arbitrary process. And often it is also a destructive process, since in dividing up the system of connections so as to be able to present them according to a sequential order, it is difficult to avoid breaking - that is leaving out - some of the connections that are part of the whole."25 Hypertexts somehow derive their structures from the structures of conventional printed texts - whose elements are combined according to a sequential logic. Thus, even hypertexts should be thought of as imperfect tools for the representation and reproduction of our experiences. Yet, exactly because of their dynamic, non-linear and rhizomatic character, hypertexts - even the only-verbal ones - seem to be more suitable for representing the fast intertwining of our thoughts, their moving through intersections, jumps, and links, their constant re-constructing and re-organizing the most heterogeneous features of our experiences. And this is particularly true when we consider that hypertexts are multimedial "objects" and can therefore represent - even though in a still simplified and synthetic way - not only verbal but also nonverbal (for the moment only visual and acoustic) features of many of our experiences. Olfactory printers, capable of printing out "texts" made of chains of different scents, are already in the process of being mass-produced; "tactile tools," such as gloves or overalls, are more and more used in virtual environments to simulate the tactile dimension of virtual objects. Soon, the communicates produced by means of these devices will be integrated within that global literature described by Nelson as the immense memory preserving the many traces of our histories. When we will be able to navigate in virtual-reality-like hypertexts (and, given the actual circumstances, it is not difficult to think of such a possibility in the World Wide Web), we will fully understand the idea that the hypertextual logic, virtual realities, cyberspace, and, in general, the new paradigm of electronic communication will have a vital role in reshaping the configuration of our cognitive processes, in changing the way we learn, interact, work, and play.26
25 Nelson 1987: sec. 1/14. For models ofpossible worlds created according to the new paradigm of electronic communication see Jacobson 1994; Woolley 1993; Rawlins 1992.
26
40
5.
Sergio Cicconi
Literature
Almasi, Guido 1992 "Introduzione", in: Pynchon, Thomas, V. Milano: Rizzoli Libri S.p.A. Aumont, Jacques & Bergala, Alain & Marie, Michel & Vemet, Marc 1992 Aesthetics offilm [Esthetique du film], Austin: University of Texas Press. Barbieri, Daniele 1993 "Interfaccia e Ipertesto", Semio-News, n. 8 (March), 1-4. Barrett, Edward 1992 Sociomedia: Multimedia, Hypermedia, and the Social Construction of Knowledge. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Bassi, Bruno 1993 "Appunti di retorica ipertestuale", Semio-News, n. 8 (March), 1. Berk, Emily & Devlin, Joseph (eds.) 1991 Hypertext/Hypermedia Handbook. New York: McGrow Hill. Bettettini, Gianfranco & Colombo, Fausto (eds.) Le nuove tecnologie della comunicazione. Milano: Gruppo Editoriale Fabbri1993 Bompiani-Sonzogno-ETAS. Bolter, Jay D. 1991 Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext, and the History of Writing. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum. Borges, Jorge Luis 1975 "The Book of Sand", in: The Book of Sand. Trans. Di Giovanni Norman. New York: E. P. Dutton, 118-119. Borges, Jorge Luis 1993 Ficciones. New York: A. A. Knopf. Burnett, Kathleen 1993 "Toward a Theory of Hypertextual Design", . Bukatman, Scott 1995 "Virtual Textuality", . Bush, Vannevar 1945 "As We May Think", The Atlantic Monthly, July 1945. Internet version at . Calvino, Italo Mr. Palomar. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. 1985 Calvino, Italo Six Memos for the Next Millennium. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University 1988 Press. Casetti, Francesco & Di Chio, Federico 1994 L 'analisi del film. Milano: Bompiani. Cicconi, Sergio 1993a "Prime navigazioni in rete. Introduzione alle reti informatiche", in: Quademi di Ricerca e Didattica: Sistemi Segnici e Lorn Uso nella Comunicazione Umana, η. IX, maggio 1993. Dipartimento di Filosofia e Scienze Umane dell'Universitä di Macerata. Cicconi, Sergio 1993b "Nota su 'Oralitä e scrittura' di Walter J. Ong", in: Quaderni di Ricerca e Didattica: Sistemi Segnici e Loro Uso nella Comunicazione Umana, η. IX, maggio 1993. Dipartimento di Filosofia e Scienze Umane dell'Universitä di Macerata.
Hypertextuality Cicconi, Sergio 1995a
Cicconi, Sergio 1995b Coover, Robert 1969
41
"Ipertesti e comunicazione multimediale", in: Quaderni di Ricerca e Didattica: Semiotica, Teoria delta Comunicazione e Filosofia del Linguaggio nel Quadro Interdisciplinare, settembre 1995. Dipartimento di Filosofia e Scienze Umane dell'Universitä di Macerata. Progetto in Internet sulla "Electronic Writing", in: UF EXPOSITION-S95: Toward an Electronic Humanities. A Hypertext Poetics. A manuscript. "The Babysitter", in Pricksongs and Descants. New York: New American Library.
Coover, Robert 1992 "The End of Books", TheNewYork Times Book Review, June 21, 1992. Coover, Robert 1993 "Novels for the Computer", TheNew York Times Book Review, August29,1993. Delany, Paul & Landow, George (eds.) 1991 Hypermedia and Literary Studies. Cambridge/London: The MIT Press. Deemer, Charles 1994 "What is Hypertext?", . Deleuze, Gilles & Guattari, Filix 1980 "Introduction: Rhizome", in: Deleuze, Gilles & Guattari, Felix, Mille Plateaux. Paris: Les Edition de Minuit, 9-37. Derrida, Jacques "Structure, Sign, and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences", in: 1972 Macksey, R. & Donato, E. (eds), The Structuralist Controversy: The Language of Criticism and the Sciences of Man. Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 247-265. Derrida, Jacques 1978[1972] "Signature Event Context", in: Derrida, Jacques & Weber, Samuel & Graff, Gerald, Limited Inc. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1-23. Eco, Umberto "Dall'albero al labirinto", in: Oliva, Achille Bonito (ed.), Luoghi del silenzio 1981 imparziale. Milano: Feltrinelli, 39-50. Eco, Umberto A Theory of Semiotics. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 1976 Eco, Umberto 1979 The Role of the Reader. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Fowler, Robert, M. 1994 "How the Secondary Orality of the Electronic Age Can Awaken Us to the Primary Orality of Antiquity or What Hypertext Can Teach Us About the Bible with Reflections on the Ethical and Political Issues of the Electronic Frontier", . Goldstein, Harry 1994 "The Changing Shape of Fiction", Utne Reader March/April 1994,131-132. Gray, Chris Hables (ed.) 1995 The Cyborg Handbook. New York/London: Routledge. Jacobson, Robert 1994 "Memorie del future", Virtual anno 2, n. 5 (Jan.), 10-15. Joyce, Michael 1991a "Notes Toward an Unwritten Non Linear Electronic Text, 'The Ends of Print Culture' (a work in progress)", Postmodern Culture v. 2, η. 1 (Sept.), 1991. Joyce, Michael "Selfish Interaction or Subversive Texts and the Multiple Novel", in Berk, 1991b Emily & Devlin, Joseph (eds.), Hypertext/Hypermedia Handbook. New York: McGrow Hill, 79-92.
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Landow, George P. Hypertext. The Convergence of Contemporary Critical Theory and Technology. 1992 Baltimore/London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, Landow, George, P. (ed.) 1994 Hyper/Text/Theory. Baltimore/London: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Lee, Dorothy 1977 "Lineal and Nonlineal Codifications of Reality," in: Dolgin, Janet L. & Kemnitzer, David S. & Schneider, David M. (eds.), Symbolic Anthropology: A Reader in the Study of Symbols and Meanings. New York: Columbia University Press, 151-164. McGann, Jerome "The Rationale of HyperText", . McQuail, Dennis Communication Modelsfor the Study of Mass Communications. London/New 1993 York: Longman. Mai, Hans-Peter 1991 "Bypassing Inteitextuality", in: Heinrich, F. (ed.), Intertextuality. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 30-59. Metz, Christian Film language; a semiotics of the cinema [Essais sur la signification au 1974 cinema]. New York: Oxford University Press. Morin, Edgar Introduzione al pensiero complesso [Introduction ä la pensee complexe]. 1993 Milano: Sperling & Kupfer Edition S.p.A. Moulthrop, Stuart "In the Zones. Hypertext and the Politics of Interpretation", February 1989. 1989 . Moulthrop, Stuart 1991a "Toward a Paradigm for Reading Hypertexts: Making Nothing Happen in Hypermedia Fiction", in: Berk, Emily & Devlin, Joseph (eds.), Hypertext/ Hypermedia Handbook. New York: McGrow Hill, 65-78. Moulthrop, Stuart 1991b "You Say You Want A Revolution: Hypertext and the Laws of Media", Postmodern Culture v. 1, n. 3 (May), . Nelson, Theodor Η. Literary Machines. Swathmore, PA: Theodor Holm Nelson. 1987 Nelson, Theodor Η. 1994 "Xanadu in Suspension; Long Live Xanadu!" Interesting Ήmes - The Ted Nelson News Letter, Number Three (October 1994) Nielsen, Jakob Hypertext & Hypermedia. San Diego: Academic Press. 1990 Ong, Walter Orality and Literacy. The Technologizing of the Word. London/New York: 1982 Methuen. Petöfi, Jänos S. "Verso una teoria e filosofia semiotica della comunicazione umana pre1989/90 valentemente verbale", in: Annali della Facoltä di Lettere e Filosofia dell 'Universita di Macerata, XXII-XXIII. Macerata, 1989-90, 621-641. Petöfi, Jänos S. "Language as a Written Medium", in: Collin, Ν. E. (ed.), An Enciclopaedia of 1990 Language. London/New York: Routledge: 207-243.
Hypertextuality Petöfi, Jänos S. 1992
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"Interpretation and Translation in a Semiotic Textological Framework", in: KOINt Annali della Scuola Superiore per Interprets e Traduttori «San Pellegrino», II, 1-2, 1992.
Poundstone, William 1985 The Recursive Universe. New York: William Morrow and Co. Poundstone, William 1988 Labyrinths of Reason: Paradox, Puzzles, and the Frailty ofKnowledge. New York: Anchor Press/Doubleday. Queneau, Raymond 1989 "Cent mille milliards de poemes", in: Oevres completes. Paris: Gallimard. Rawlins, Gregory 1992 "The New Publishing: Technology's Impact on the Publishing Industry Over the Next Decade", The Public-Access Computer System Review vol. 3, no. 8 (1992), 5-63. Rees, Gareth 1994 "Tree fiction on the World Wide Web", Sept. 1994, . Robbe-Grillet, Alain 1959 Dans le Labyrinthe. Paris: Les Editions de Minuit. Rovelli, Carlo 1993 Ipercorsidell'ipertesto. Bologna e Roma: Elettrolibri. Saporta, Marc 1962 Composition N°l. Paris: Editions de Seuil. Slatin, John, M. 1990 "Reading Hypertext: Order and Coherence in a New Medium", College English volume 52, no. 8 (December), 870-883. Vitali, Fabio 1993a "Verso un future) ipertestuale?" Semio-News III, n. 8 (March), 3. Vitali, Fabio 1993b "Note sugli ipertesti", Semio-News III, n. 8 (March), 7. Wolf, Mauro 1989 Teorie della comunicazione di massa. Milano: Bompiani. Woolley, Benjamin, 1993 Virtual Worlds. London: Penguin Books.
MIKLE D. LEDGERWOOD
Multimedia Literature, "Exploratory Games" and their Hypertextuality 1.
Background
Multimedia CD-ROM discs are well-known to anyone with a newer computer and are helping inspire continuing advances in computer technology as well as sales of updated computers. The contents of these discs range over many areas with one area - an intersection of game, information, news, and education - spawning a new and perhaps ugly term, that of "edutainment." To what may be literary critics' dismay, a few new multimedia CD-ROMs have been labeled "serious" literary works. With the advent of multimedia poetry and novels using hypertextual links, literary critics are being forced to accept that their world centered on the written text is being challenged. Works worthy of being called "serious" literature are being produced on CD-ROMs or available through the Internet which take advantage of images, sounds, and motion video as part of their very nature. Some "cuttingedge" literature is now being produced only as multimedia.1
2.
Different Multimedia Works
The oldest example of a multimedia work which should be considered by "serious" literary critics is a computer CD-ROM disc entitled Poetry in Motion, which was produced in 1992 by the Voyager Company, with Ron Mann as its creator (1992). A second and no less important "serious" work is The Madness of Roland (1993) produced by HyperBole Productions, with Greg Roach as its creator. In addition to these multimedia works which are identifiable as literature, there are also multimedia games which come very close to being multimedia literature, such as the Virtual Murder series which has many titles, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and adventure science fiction games such as Beyond the Wall of Stars, Lunicus, and Doom among many, many others. Even the wildly popular game Myst (1993) could be considered hypertextual literature by some critics. Yet it is important to draw the line between literature and games as well as decide how the concept of hypertext fits into this type of discussion of genre. Due to space limitations many other recent games cannot be treated here, as enticing as some of them may appear.2 ' For valuable sources on multimedia literature see Elam 1985; Bolter 1991; Bruner 1992; HessLüttich 1992; Amiran & Unsworth 1993;Nielsen 1993; Joyce 1995;Ledgerwood 1995;Ransdell 1995; Nöth 1997. 2 For works of interest see, e.g., Landow 1994; Ludtke 1994; Norman 1994; Roach 1992, 1994.
Multimedia Literature, "Exploratory Games" and their Hypertextuality
3.
Hypertext
3.1
Precedents
45
It is necessary to begin by considering critical work on hypertext - especially in its relationship with literature - since all "serious" multimedia works are usually forced to contend with the labels of hypertext or hypermedia by their critics. I will then outline how the multimedia programs previously mentioned are structured, and end with some provisional conclusions involving the role that the concept of hypertext plays in determining the critical generic differences between multimedia literature and multimedia games which should not be treated as "serious" literature but may still qualify for treatment as "popular" literature. Hypertext has been defined in many ways. At its simplest, however, it is the notion that a body of text can be viewed and accessed in a variety of ways by its user - although some texts are produced in such a way as to make accessing them hypertextually necessary. In general, however, this means that bodies of text do not have to have a defined beginning or end, nor have to be accessed in a linear fashion. Thus any work can be accessed in the manner of a hypertext - even works such as books written so that they have a clear beginning, middle, and end and printed in a linear narrative fashion. One can begin a work at any part of a work, stop at any moment, and recommence at any other moment. In fact this is the way that some traditional works, such as the Qu'ran, the Talmud, the Christian Bible or the writings of Lao Tse or Confucius, are often read. It is not uncommon for certain readers of religious works to open the text at random choosing to read only a few passages. S/he may very well choose additional passages at random to ponder before finally closing the book. The next reading upon reopening the book might then be accomplished in the same manner. Nevertheless, most critics of hypertext argue that words on a page necessitate certain notions that computerized text(s) do not. George Landow, as an example, insists that computer hypertexts fuse notions of metatext and intertextuality into new wholes (Landow 1992: 6-11). Even though creative writers and editors are familiar with the notion that text can be moved and removed (especially in the age of the computerized word processor) and even though a basic understanding of hypertextual notions is inherent in humans of all periods, it is only in the twentieth century that the creation of works which must be read in a hypertextual manner has emerged as a goal for writers. Only then have writers consciously attempted to remove all notions of linearity and progression through texts giving the ultimate freedom of text chronicity to their texts' readers. Thus many twentieth-century writers, such as Alain RobbeGrillet have tried to divorce themselves from imposing a particular reading of their texts on their readers, attempting to eliminate linearity of texts, for example. Nevertheless, they have been bound up in the limitations imposed by written or printed texts. No matter what graphic or stylistic devices are attempted, all readers of these texts see a first page and a last page. Even if one writes on the cover of the book, "start at page 42" and upon beginning the book there one sees a sentence saying, "choose either page 75 or 45 or 199 next" with additional page cues, readers still see a book as having a definite beginning, middle, and end. Robbe-Grillet, himself, and his critics tend to view attempts at eliminating linearity in books as, at best, partial successes.
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A second constraint to giving readers more freedom in their re-creation o f a text by reading it is the fact that book authors are bound by the fact that a text always has a defined amount o f material. N o matter h o w a 2 6 0 page book is organized it still only has 2 6 0 pages. Thus readers do have a certain amount o f freedom in their negotiations with a text but still have a delimited text with which to make their reading.
3.2
Computers
and
Hypertext
Only in the age o f computers and computerized texts have writers been able to take a next step forward in "opening up" their texts to their readers. In fact some argue that only with computers has hypertext come of age. A s was argued (anonymously) in Berlin W W W site with a section entitled "Was ist Hypertext," Grundlegend für das Hypertext-Konzept sind zwei Begriffe: Knoten und Verweise (Links). Knoten sind die atomaren Informationseinheiten von Hypertexten, die über Links auf nichtlineare Weise miteinander verbunden sind. Die Knoten eines Hyperdokumentes können Texte und/oder einfache Schwarz-Weiss-Graphiken beinhalten. Enthalten die Knoten darüber hinaus farbige Bilder, Töne, Videos, Simulationen oder Animationen, so spricht man von Hypermedia. Hypermedia ist also ein Oberbegriff für Hypertext und unterscheidet sich von Multimedia durch die nicht-lineare Verknöpfung der Informationsknoten. Streitz [...] verwendet den Begriff "Hypertext", um den strukturellen Aspekt der Nicht-Linearität herauszustellen, und den Begriff "Hypermedia", um auf mediale Aspekte hinzuweisen. Unter einem Hypertext-System versteht man alle Software-Hilfsmittel, mit denen Hypertexte erstellt, verwaltet und genutzt werden können. Ein Hyperdokument oder kurz Hypertext ist eine mit einem Hypertext-System erstellte Informations- bzw. Hypertextbasis, die eine nicht-lineare Struktur aufWeist. Um einem Link zu folgen, muss die Leserin einfach einen auf dem Bildschirm besonders hervorgehobenen Bereich, der das Vorhandensein eines Links anzeigt, mit der Maus anklicken (oder ihn mit dem Finger auf einem Touch-Screen berühren), und der Inhalt des neuen Knotens wird auf dem Bildschirm dargestellt. Am deutlichsten wird das Hypertext-Konzept, wenn man es mit traditionellen Texten vergleicht und die Unterschiede herausarbeitet, die sich daraus für die Leserin ergeben. Traditionelle Texten sind linear organisiert, sie sollen in einer von der Autorin durch die Aneinanderreihung der Abschnitte vorgegebenen Sequenz gelesen werden, d.h. (wenn die Autorin Glück hat) von der ersten bis zur letzten Seite. In nicht-linearen Hypertexten stehen der Leserin immer mehrere Lesealternativen zur Verfügung, sie kann wählen, welchen Knoteninhalt sie als nächstes lesen möchte. Es gibt bei Hypertexten folglich keine fest vorgesehene Lesereihenfolge. Bei Texten entspricht die physikalische Struktur, die sequentielle Abfolge der Abschnitte - nicht der logischen Textstruktur, die meist hierarchisch ist und darüberhinaus Querverweise enthält. Bei Hypertexten - so wird angenommen - werden logische und physikalische Struktur miteinander in Einklang gebracht. Diese Übereinstimmung soll sich positiv auf das Lernen auswirken. Auf die Problematik dieser Annahme wird weiter unten noch ausführlich eingegangen. In the 1980's early experiments with computer applications such as "Storyspace" or "Linkspace" created texts which were organized as units to be linked together (cf. Moulthrop 1992). These units could be composed of written words only, pictures and images, sounds, or any combination of these. (To this list w e can now add motion video as well.) Thus the creator o f a text after writing or choosing the units to be included in a corpus could set up a diagram telling the computer to link the discrete units together through drawn arrows in the diagram or through "buttons" which gave the texts' users the ability to go to a variety of "next links." Expanding upon this notion some writers allowed their users to begin at any unit and go to any
Multimedia Literature, "Exploratory Games" and their Hypertextuality
47
other unit. Others allowed their users to create their own links between units. Indeed if a computer contained more than one "Storyspace" story, users could link from one story to another until all units were linked together in all ways possible, given the number of units to connect. (This can be thought of as a mathematical problem with a specifiable answer.) The critical and creative possibilities in these programs are fascinating and have excited their most important exponent, George Landow, to write about them and use them for his understanding of the concept of hypertext and hyperspace.
3.3
George Landow
In his seminal work on hypertext, Hypertext and Contemporary Literary Criticism (1990), Landow presents the best introduction yet published to the problems of textuality caused by hypertext. His statement that hypertextual users create their final texts based upon the variety of inputs and pathways available to him or her and the fact that hypertexts necessarily impose an open, non-linear structure on texts is extremely accurate. Thus no hypertext reader can claim to establish a definitive linear nanative of a hypertext in the way that medieval scholars' attempt faced with a variety of textual manuscripts of various medieval works. Hypertext, of necessity, has gone beyond Derridean notions which refuse to allow for one principal reading of a text. We now cannot even establish what the precise text we are studying is. We cannot say where it begins or even how it ends much less much about its middle - at least we cannot say this in any prescriptive manner which establishes one textual chronicity to the exclusion of all others. As Landow himself says in his work with Delany, The necessary contextualization and intertextuality produced by situating individual reading units within a network of easily navigable pathways weaves texts, including those by different authors and those in nonverbal media, tightly together. One effect is to weaken and even destroy altogether any sense of textual uniqueness, for what is essential in any text appears intermingled with other texts. Such notions are hardly novel to contemporary literary theory, but here again hypertext creates an almost embarrassingly literal relocation or actualization of a principle or quality that had seemed particularly abstract and difficult in its earlier statement. (Landow & Delany 1991: 8)
3.4
Other Critics and Hypertext
However, some scholars writing about hypertext are not quite correct when presenting hypertextual works as works which have a nearly unlimited number of textual possibilities, much in the way semioticians like Sebeok speak of unlimited semiosis in the semiotic web, nor are critics like followers of Derrida or Bataille correct in believing that certain hypertextual creations should not be privileged over others. Quite clearly all hypertexts are created by their makers with a carefully specified number of hypertextual links. Even texts produced on the Internet must include a certain number of specified hypertextual links. It is true that users of the Internet can go beyond the specified text and create new pathways through which
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a type of unlimited travel can be deduced. But even creators who link texts to another text which is already linked to yet another text eventually run out of texts to link to. Yet what has really changed for these creator/users is the type of "text" they create. No longer are these users addressing themselves to a single created unit or macro-unit. When hypertext creators or their users step in to create their links to texts outside of their own creation they have gone beyond the bounds of the hypertext as was originally conceived. Their text has lost any unity or coherence other than to say that is without a clear end. In some senses it is questionable as to whether such a vast linking of units can any longer be considered a text - especially in a literary understanding of the word. In response to followers of Derrida and Bataille and others who believe that all links and pathways are equal we can adapt the arguments of Umberto Eco relating to interpretations of texts found in his The Limits of Interpretation (1990). Here Eco has argued that not all hermeneutic reception should be treated equally. Although it is philosophically defensible to treat all interpretations in similar ways it is not pragmatically or aesthetically defensible. Artistic texts provide ample evidence of this conclusion, according to Eco. While there may be multiple good readings of texts, there are vastly more bad readings. Eco uses his own experience as a literary critic as well as his understanding of the thought of semioticians such as Charles S. Peirce to come to this conclusion. Peirce, himself, early on faced the problem of hermeneutic indeterminacy. Yet for Peirce, even though the number of potential interpretants associated with a given sign (or compound sign or macrosign or text or in our case hypertext) is unlimited, the number of actually chosen interpretants by a given interpreter is limited. For Peirce even the role of the individual in selecting interpretants is also limited. He went so far as to establish the role of the community of scholars to guard against solecistic interpretations too far removed from experience. An individual's selection of interpretants can be submerged in a group as necessary. Thus for Peirce implicitly and for Eco explicitly, a community of scholars, in this case professionally-trained critics professing honestly, will be able to limit the number of good readings of an artistic text.
3.5
Hypertext and Hermeneutic Response
The factors which make for good critical interpretations also hold true for selecting the units and pathways which make up a hypertextual reading. Following hypertextual links involves, of necessity, trial and experiment, especially since creators of hypertexts can establish a huge variety of hypertextual links for their users. Yet it becomes clear that certain links make more sense to users than others. In the beginning of a user's association with a hypertext, following certain linking possibilities rather than others, quickly makes sense. Although hypertext is so new that experiments have not been done, my experience with readers of hypertext tells me that, taken as a group, hypertext users will choose certain paths much more often than other. Doing experiments along these lines could be very interesting and some day we may even be able to talk about average macrotextual response to hypertextual input, using averages of a large group of users and their reader response to selected hypertexts.
Multimedia Literature, "Exploratory Games" and their Hypertextuality
4.
49
An Experiment in Hypertextual Hermeneutics
Let us now do our own experiments in hypertext hermeneutics and macro readerresponse by looking at the The Madness ofRoland and Myst both of which are CDROM multimedia programs mentioned earlier. Let me try to describe in a summary written fashion for the purposes of this publication what any audience would see and some of the discussion they generate, realizing of course how inadequate words are in comparison to viewing and hearing the discs. 4.1
The Madness of Roland
The Madness of Roland is difficult to describe without resorting to visual input. It is organized into seven chapters. However, each chapter can be accessed in a variety of ways and a user can choose to begin with any chapter s/he desires as well as use only part of the material contained in any given chapter. Within a chapter a user sees, first, a title page with tarot cards representing anywhere from two to five characters of the work as well as a sun or a moon icon. The user can click on any of these icons with the computer mouse. Clicking on a sun icon brings up on a new screen a textual quotation which the author choose to relate to this particular point of the work. Clicking on a moon icon brings up a new screen with quotations occasionally, but more often images, sounds, and/or motion video sequences which also were chosen by the work's creator to relate to the particular part of the work. If the user clicks on a character's tarot card, s/he then gets a new screen with colored written text filling the main body of the screen (there is one exception to this in the whole work) and a new sun and moon icon to choose from as well as the tarot card icons of the characters not currently chosen in this chapter. The colored text is the selected character's narration and interpretation of the events currently occurring to him or her, read aloud by actors who give the text their own interpretation. In addition the colors given to the text are significant. The color blue represents the character's own thoughts at that time and not the character's narration as presented in hindsight. The color green represents speech by someone who is not the author or the character currently chosen. Finally, some words are in boldface. Clicking on these words brings up what the program calls hypertextual links. For the most part these links are other words which give a metacommentary on the narration. They are often humorous and do give further insights into the characters. Rarely images are given instead of words. Finally, clicking on a sun or moon icon in each character's portion of a chapter brings up the type of material earlier described for the chapter title page. In addition to the work proper, there is an excellent help section presented through motion video segments which explains how to access the work, as well as giving written information about the work's sources, a bibliography, a bookmark feature, and even a long videoclip of an interview with the work's creator as he describes some of his thoughts and intentions in creating The Madness of Roland. Roland's hypertextuality is of interest to its critics (and is given a definition in its "help" feature). Yet in contrast to the "Storyspace" stories of Stuart Moulthrop or others like him, Roland's hypertextuality is extremely conventional. Even though readers can choose which characters they will read/view, and when (and even if)
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they peruse all characters' narratives, many readers will do what I did - which is to view all of the material on the disc no matter what order it is chosen to be viewed in. I can even argue that the order chosen makes little difference since the quantity of choices is rather small. I can also argue that the bookmark and map features which show a user what sections they have been to, encourage a user to see all of the text. It is indeed true that users will review portions of the text, perhaps a large number of times, and not others. Yet in terms of its ultimate hypertextual creation Roland does not cause difficulties. Although there are many more pathways possible here than in other works, the number of choices open to its reader is easily manageable. Thus while hypertextuality is important in making Roland what it is, hypertextuality does not define it in the same way as it does some "Storyspace" works. More difficult is deciding about the value of Roland to serious literary critics. Its text is not long and has very few pretentions to artistic greatness. In fact the text alone smacks both of bad fantasy novels and television serials. It is only in Roland's multimedia that it becomes interesting. Its format, its quotations, its excellent use of its medium (especially its morphing of images), its pretension to visual and theatrical excellence, its intratextuality, its intertextuality, and its hypertextuality, however, do give serious critics enough grist for their critical mills. Even if a community of literary scholars do eventually decide that Roland is not good art, at least it has enough interest to merit analysis and consideration of it as, potentially at least, a work of serious literature. Finally, it is clear that Roland is literary in its essence. 4.2
Myst
Myst from its very beginning is different from Roland. The first sequence of Myst presents its users with a puzzle and the tantalizing first segment in a game of exploration. Its users, while given broader hypertextual possibilities than Roland and while even provided with textual input, nevertheless must solve puzzles to proceed. The beauty of the program, done in richly-colored three dimensional rendering with stereophonic audio as well as the richness of the worlds its users explore tend to mask the fact that its primary nature is that of a game of exploration. Yet as some argue, why must one insist on its features as a game instead of concentrating on its potential as literature? Do its technical qualities which include the potential to enter adventure stories based in a wide variety of epochs and worlds as well as its seamless and fundamental interactivity not show the future direction of multimedia literature better than Roland? While it may be true that Myst potentially represents more of the future of multimedia literature, we must nevertheless insist on its essential nature as a game, as a consideration of its hypertextuality shows. Although its users have to create their own paths when viewing the work - selecting from a wide variety of worlds and adventures, although they do explore a variety of worlds, and although they do have a variety of narrative paths to follow, its users learn little about their own existence or even the aesthetic potential of multimedia in the same way Roland's users do. This is not to say that its users are not entertained. They are. It can indeed be argued that by solving the puzzles which give its users hypertextual links it
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allows its users a clearer insight into how seamless multimedia works will be than Roland in eradicating generic distinctions with its easy mixing of motion video, still images, soundbites, and text. Yet will literary critics feel comfortable assessing it critically in the way they will when discussing Roland? Assuredly not. 5.
Conclusion
In conclusion, what this discussion of hypertext and these two multimedia works has proven is that hypertextual nature provides no evaluative pre-condition for the seriousness of multimedia literature, nor does hypertextuality have to be anything more than a tangential component of multimedia art. This does not surprise us so much as it does point out that critics who focus only on a work's hypertextuality or hypermediality have missed the point just as completely as critics who focus only on the media contained in a work in order to reject it. Although hypertextuality is a fascinating part of new media creative art, it is not an end-all of critical discussion. Critics have to be able to view a work's hypertextuality as merely one new creative artistic technique which is added to all other techniques available to artists. This is not to say that a true hypertextual artist who can use hypertext and multimedia in the way that Proust and Joyce manipulated narrative text will not produce yet another revolution in literature, although many are trying, including an Irish artist called Michael Joyce. Since multimedia literature is a field still in its infancy and developing we cannot predict its future. Works such as Johnny Mnemonic (1994), The Residents' Freak Show (1994), Quantum Gate (1994), Laurie Anderson's Puppet Motel (1996), Bad Day on the Midway (1995), Quantum Gate II (1996), Hyberbole's new "Virtual Cinema projects," and Voyager's "First Person" series (1992-1997) all keep raising our critical interest. Unfortunately, Voyager has recently changed direction and its new owner is no longer as interested in publishing many new titles of this quality. However, its recent acquisition of the The Complete Peter Leroy So Far (1995) keeps up hopes. Another development which will help is the recent introduction of DVD-ROM as the eventual replacement for CD-ROM. In fact Spectrum Multimedia has just released a Windows DVD-ROM, Convictions (1997) that it calls "multimedia literature." As a result of these works and the huge number of Internet-based hypertext experiments (see for a starting point), all of us in the new field of multimedia literature await such a person eagerly and are ready to work with this creator's texts and our understandings of the relationship between hypertext and multimedia literature. However, as of the present moment such a genius can be merely anticipated, not discussed.
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6.
Bibliography
6.1
Literature
Amiran, Eyal & Unsworth, John 1993 Essays in Postmodern Culture. New York: Oxford University Press. Bolter, J. David 1991 Writing Space: The Computer Hypertext and the History of Writing. Hillsdale, NJ: L. Erlbaum Associates. Bruner, Jerome 1992 Actual Minds, Possible Worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Eco, Umberto The Limits of Interpretation. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. 1990 Elam, Keir 1985 The Semiotics of Theatre and Drama. London: Methuen. Hess-Lüttich, Ernest (Hg.) Medienkultur-Kulturkonflikt: Massmedien in der interkulturellen und 1992 internationalen Kommunikation. Opladen-Wiesbaden: Westdeutscher Verlag. Joyce, Michael 1995 Of Two Minds: Hypertext Pedagogy and Poetics. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Landow, George Hypertext and Contemporary Literary Criticism. Baltimore, MD: Johns 1990 Hopkins Press. Landow, George 1992 The Dickens Web. Computer file. Watertown, MA: Eastgate Systems. Landow, George & Delany, Paul 1991 "Hypertext, Hypermedia and Literary Studies: The State of the Art", in: Delany, Paul & Landow, George (eds.), Hypermedia and Literary Studies. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 3-53. Ledgerwood, Mikle D. 1995 "The Visual and the Auditory: Poetry on CD-ROM", in: Spinks, C. William & Delly, John (eds.), Semiotics 1994. Frankfurt/M: Peter Lang, 381-391. Nielsen, Jakob 1993 Hypertext and Hypermedia. Boston: Academic Press Professional. Nöth, Winfried (ed.) 1997 Semiotics of the Media. State of the Arts, Projects, and Perspectives. Berlin/New York: Mouton. (= Approaches to Semiotics 127) Ransdell, Joseph 1995 "On Peirce and Truth". Unpublished comments written on the Peirce-L electronic bulletin board, May 15th, 1995.
6.2
World Wide Web Pages
Eastgate Systems Some of the quotations and comments in this work come from WWW files placed on the Internet by the hypertext-producing company Eastgate Systems. Its World Wide Web address is . Hypertext Archive Some quotations and comments are used in this work which were taken from the hypertext archive located at the Universität Bern in Switzerland at . General sources Some good sites currently for general hypertext sources are and .
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CD-ROM Works
Landow, George 1994 Hypertext in Hypertext. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins. Ludtke, Jim 1994 The Resident's Freak Show. New York: Voyager. Mann, Ron 1991 Poetry in Motion. Santa Monica, CA: The Voyager Company. Miller, Rand & Miller, Robyn My st. Novato, CA: Broderbund Productions. 1993 Moulthrop, Stuart 1992 Madness in the Afternoon. Cambridge, MA: Eastgate Software. Norman, Donald 1994 First Person: Defending Human Attributes in the Age of the Machine. New York: The Voyager Company. Roach, Greg 1992 The Madness of Roland. Houston, TX: Hyperbole Studios. Roach, Greg 1994 Quantum Gate. Seattle, WA: Hyperbole Studios.
II. Semiotic and Philosophical Approaches
WERNER KONITZER
Media as Meaningful Gestures Phenomenology, Inner Time Consciousness and the Possibilities of Media Philosophy
0.
Not long ago the media we use to "transport" or "keep" our thoughts were believed to have no substantial relationship to the way we think. Today the situation is different. There are many philosophers who believe that the main features of our contemporary thinking belong to structures influenced somehow by the technical means used to communicate them, and they often describe this relationship as one of cause and effect; the media we use force us to believe in certain theories about the world and about the way we think. But seldom do they say how this relationship could be conceived. Can we really talk about a causal relation here? Or does this have to be understood as a relation between parts and wholes, so that media belong to a kind of "linguistic superstructure" which gives meaning to certain theories - as F. A. Kittler1 suggests? But how should we then be able to understand this structure and the relationship? How does the development of technical media of communication and information influence our thoughts? How does it change the way we understand ourselves? Is it true that the basic structures of understanding are constituted by the media we use, as some philosophers argue? And how can we verify propositions suggesting that some theories are the "effects" of technical media? In the following essay, I will show how these questions can find answers which are methodologically grounded in Wittgenstein's philosophy of language. I will do this by demonstrating the relationship between a particular state of development of technical media and the phenomenological approach of Edmund Husserl. I will concentrate on only one specific but very important aspect of the Husserlian thinking: his philosophy of inner time consciousness. First, I will describe the main features of Husserl's theory of time. Then, I will leave the sphere of immanent interpretation and look at Husserl's discourse from an external point of view. I will do this in order to ask in which language games the expressions Husserl uses to explain his theory become understandable. I will try to show how these specific language games could only be played when the possibility of taking photographs, making films and recording sounds existed. I will then explain in which way we should understand media in order to clarify how they influ' Friedrich A. Kittler, Aufschreibesysteme 1800/1900 (1985).
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ence some of our basic language games. My conclusion is that media have to be understood as a technically frozen form of meaningful gestures. They are not vessels or channels in which linguistic meanings are transported but structures which belong to language as integrated and historically developing parts. The method of this special investigation could serve as an example for investigations dealing with the cultural impacts of contemporary, digital media such as CD-ROM, interactive TV and Internet.
1. Let me start with three remarks concerning Husserl's theory of time consciousness. First remark. Husserl's investigations are philosophical investigations. They deal with what he calls the "eidos" (or "essence") of time. That means Husserl wants to know what time is "in its inner sense." He questions what we always already know when we refer to time-structured objects. In order to explain how this question has to be understood, Husserl quotes the famous words of Augustine who wrote that we normally know what time is, but once asked, we are unable to explain what we mean in words. Now, in order to ask a question like this about the eidos of time, we have to keep a certain distance from the form we normally use to talk about the object in question. The philosopher who asks his students what the eidos of time is (or what "time" in itself means) doesn't expect a physical definition or a translation of the word in another (already given) language. Definitions or explanations like these would be grounded on our already given understanding; they would hide it instead of clarifying it. Second remark. Once this special sense of philosophical questioning has been accepted, a philosopher needs to find a certain sphere of knowledge in which the sense of the expressions under question can be defined or explained. Concerning this aspect of his theory, Husserl belongs to the tradition of Cartesian mentalism which remained the main paradigm of philosophy until the twentieth century. Mentalism takes for granted die fact that when we are asked about the essence of an object, we can explain it by investigating the structure of the mental representations in which this object is thought of, perceived, or in the broadest sense, "meant." The special question about the "sense" or the essence of "time" is going to be answered by analyzing the a priori structures of any possible consciousness of time. Husserl belongs to this tradition and he therefore proceeds traditionally. For Husserl, to explain what time is means to describe the somehow hidden experiences in which time "originally" appears to a consciousness. We can find out what time is by looking at the way we experience time passing. We do this, for example, when we perceive what Husserl calls Time-Objects (Zeitobjekte). For this class of objects - melodies, for example - time belongs only to the "sense" in which they are able to appear. Today we know that we no longer have to proceed in this way, since many philosophers argue the erroneous nature of a "mentalistic" or "intemalistic" approach. There are several reasons for this critique; the main one is that a mentalistic approach ignores the way in which language is organized. Philosophers who agree with this analytical critique of mentalism try to find answers to philosophical ques-
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tions like "what is time?" not by describing how we experience time "in our consciousness," but by investigating the different symbolic forms of reference to time. They analyze the way we use (and "use" does mean something very special here) the deictic and objective expressions of time. One reason for preferring this method of linguistic analysis to the method of describing mental "representations" on the basis of something like an "inner perception" is that the latter is unable to avoid solipsism. Furthermore, even if one accepts a solipsistic approach as a method of a philosophy of consciousness, it wouldn't be possible for the mentalist to clarify how a solipsistic consciousness is able to conceive rules of its "inner" language. Analytical philosophers have argued therefore that any consciousness of "inner" feelings is derived from the understanding of linguistic expressions. For my purpose here this discussion is not so important. More important are its results concerning the semantic structure of the words we use for "expressing" or communicating inner feelings like pain, joy or the specific way we perceive something. Following the concept of a mentalistic approach, these expressions are to be understood as names referring to objects perceived by some inner sense. Following an analytic approach we have to look at the way these expressions are used in a learning-teaching interaction: A child cries and his or her mother says something like: "I know this hurts." This is the normal way children learn to represent their spontaneous mimic expressions of pain by the words which help them identify the same states of mind later on as being "painful" or "hurting." The important point here is that in order to classify inner states of mind, we need an outer behaviour as criteria for the use of the word, which also must be the case for words being used to express our feeling of time passing by or the way we perceive the time-structure of an object as we do in expressions like "I feel bored," "time seems to pass so slowly now" or "I'm just perceiving how the sound I hear right now is going to 'fall back into the past'." Husserl didn't ask how the language he used could be learned in interactions. (He didn't ask how phenomenological language could function at all.) But maybe one sees now where this question becomes important for the interpretation of Husserl's descriptions of inner time consciousness. Third remark. Husserl's analysis of time consciousness is, as he announced in the title of his lectures, an analysis of inner time consciousness. To explain this, one has to figure out the specific difference between Husserl's analysis of time consciousness and that of his predecessors, who also followed the paradigm of a philosophy of consciousness. Until Husserl, the science which dealt with the sphere of consciousness or with "mental events" in its broadest sense was called psychology. When Husserl started his investigations, the most familiar science to philosophy was psychology, as linguistics is nowadays. We are likely to suppose, therefore, that Husserl's investigations, when dealing with the sphere of "consciousness" or "subjectivity," are psychological investigations. Husserl would have rejected an interpretation like this. He maintained that with the decision to understand consciousness as a sphere of mental events located in the sphere of psychology objective world is already supposed. But this is a presupposition grounded on the unreflected development of sense-sedimentations grounding natural sciences. The concept of "psyche" has been developed as an attribute to the concept of "nature"; if we take it for granted, we
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will never be able to get rid of the paradoxes and mistakes of classical epistemology. If we want to avoid them, Husserl maintained, we have to clarify the meaning of "nature" as much as the meaning of "objectivity" in general. Husserl therefore develops the concept of "Einstellungsänderung" which is the transformation of what he calls our natural attitude ("natürliche Einstellung"). This attitude is characterized by our belief in the existence of an already given objective world. We can transform it by inhibiting our belief in existence in general, by "bracketing" the existence of the objects to which we refer. I don't want to develop the special features of this concept here. I hope that the following discussion of Husserl's concept of inner time consciousness and its differences from the concepts of his predecessors - mainly his teacher Brentano - will show what makes it different from the concepts which had been developed by tradition in general. 2. In his lectures, Husserl conceived of three ways to investigate the notion of time consciousness: the naturalistic, the psychologistic and his own, which he calls phenomenological. All three forms attempt to clarify time consciousness by investigating via inner perception the way we experience time structures while perceiving time-objects: melodies or movements. The naturalistic approach believes that there is some kind of direct representation between our perception and the process perceived. On one hand, we then have the phases of the process perceived (for example, the sounds of a melody), one following another; on the other hand, the perceptions or, more generally speaking, a mind or consciousness which perceives. It is conceived as a kind of substance being impressed or formed by the received sounds or events in a certain manner. It is easy to see at once the weakness of a description like this. This is able to explain how we perceive sounds which follow one after another, but does not explain how one is able to perceive them as following one another. Now, as Husserl points out, Brentano and Meinong try to find a solution to this problem. Meinong argues that whenever we hear the sounds or tones of a melody, we represent after some time in our memory what we heard. That means that we look back to what we have heard and then "perceive" the timestructure of the past part of the melody at once in one single moment. Brentano offers another, partly similar, partly different solution to the same problem. Like Meinong he believes that in order to perceive the time structure of a time-object we have to remember the tones that have just passed by (die gerade vergangenen Töne). But unlike Meinong he maintains that every "little" perception, every tone of the perceived melody for example, is followed by a spontaneous and unwillingly associated act of remembrance, a kind of "originally given association" which represents the tone just having disappeared in the past. Husserl criticizes both conceptions. Against Meinong's description he argues that because Meinong says that we perceive the process or duration of a thing at the very moment when it is already over he isn't able to explain how we can speak of the perception of a process. But then it makes no sense to speak of perception in this context, because we can perceive only things which are present, not repre-
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sented. Now, in every moment we perceive a process, we perceive it as a process. We don't hear the tones first and then hear the melody, we hear the tones following one after another as a melody. Brentano, as Husserl mentions, touches upon this point, but his explanation has the disadvantage of dissolving the difference between remembrance and phantasy on the one hand, between the perception of a process and its remembrance on the other. When we remember a process, we can decide if we want continue in the "representation" of the foregone process. We aren't however able to do this with our perceptions. When perceiving processes we are unable to decide if we want to remember the things that just occured in order to change the horizon in which the things taking place are embedded. Husserl thinks that the obvious mistakes of the two descriptions are rooted deeper in the metaphysical constructions they presuppose. Both Brentano as well as Meinong assume that a process can only be perceived if all its parts are perceived in one undivided und unique act of perception. And both believe this because they still presuppose "objective" time as already given or "existing," investigating only how these already defined structures of objective time are conceived by an "already existing" consciousness. In order to avoid these mistakes, Husserl starts with what he calls "bracketing" objective time or, in other words, suspending its existence. He writes: Our intention is a phenomenological analysis of time consciousness. Herein lies, as in every analysis following the same method, the complete dissolution of all presuppositions, beliefs and opinions concerning objective time (all transcendental presuppositions about existence). From a point of view presupposing objectivity, every mental act, inasmuch as every real entity and [Moment] aspect of an entity may have its position in the one unique and objective time; so this should be the case with the very acts of time-perception and time-representation. Now if we talk of analysis of time-consciousness and the time-structure of objects of perception, remembrance and attention, it may look as though we were presupposing an objective course of time [den objektiven Zeitverlauf] only studying the subjective conditions of the possibility of its perception and of intuitive knowledge of time [die subjektiven Bedingungen der Möglichkeit einer Zeitanschauung und einer eigentlichen Zeiterkenntnis]. But what we take for granted is not existence of universal time, not existence of duration of outer objects or the like, but time in its appearance, duration as it appears as such. These are in fact absolute data and it doesn't make any sense to doubt their existence. It is true that we also take for granted the existence of time in a certain sense. But this time we assume as "being" not the time of our world of [outer, WK] experience, but immanent time of the stream of consciousness. That our perception of a melody in itself is time-structured [ein Nacheinander aufweist] is in fact evident in the way it makes no sense to argue against it or even to put any doubt in it.2
2 Translation by Werner Konitzer. Husserl's text goes in its original as follows: "Unser Absehen geht auf eine phänomenologische Analyse des Zeitbewußt-seins. Darin liegt, wie bei jeder solchen Analyse, der völlige Ausschluß jedweder Annahmen, Festsetzungen, Überzeugungen in betreff der objektiven Zeit (aller transzendierenden Voraussetzungen von Existierendem). In objektiver Hinsicht mag jedes Erlebnis, wie jedes reale Sein und Seinsmoment, seine Stelle in der einen einzigen objektiven Zeit haben - somit auch das Erlebnis der Zeitwahmehmung und Zeitvoistellung selbst. /Nun mag es allerdings scheinen, wenn wir von Analyse des Zeitbewußtseins, von dem Zeitcharakter der Gegenstände der Wahrnehmung, Erinnerung, Erwartung sprechen, als ob wir den objektiven Zeitverlauf schon annähmen und dann im Grunde nur die subjektiven Bedingungen der Möglichkeit einer Zeitanschauung und einer eigentlichen Zeiterkenntnis studierten. Was wir aber hinnehmen, ist nicht die Existenz einer Weltzeit, die Existenz einer dinglichen Dauer u.dgl., sondern erscheinende Zeit, erscheinende Dauer als solche. Das aber
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Husserl seeks here not to describe time "as it is" but "as it appears to us," when we for example perceive time-structured objects. Therefore he starts his analysis with describing visual processes or melodies in the way they appear in our perception: not the melody as it is, but how it is heard; not a man walking from one point to another, but how a man is seen walking from one point to another. And while describing these phenomena he turns his attention to die mode in which these appearances of time (duration or change) appear. What are the results of this methodological approach? How does the structure Husserl now reveals differfromthat of Meinong and Brentano? Let's have a look at Husserl's descriptions of the appearance of a time-object: It (the tone of the melody) begins and ends, and the whole unity of its duration, the unity of the whole process in which it begins and ends "falls" [rückt] after its ending back in further distant past [mehr und mehr entfernte Vergangenheit]. In this falling backwards [of the tone, WK] I still keep it and hold it in its retention, and as long it [the retention of the tone, WK] stays, it has its own time-structure [Zeitlichkeit], it remains the same and its duration remains the same.3
Now what happens if we turn our attention to the way time (duration or change) appears in the perception of tone? Husserl maintains that we can perceive the process of the tone falling backwards in two ways: I can pay attention to the way a tone is given. It and its duration, the time which is "fulfilled" by it, is aware [bewußt] in a continuity of modes, in a standing continous stream [in einem beständigen Flusse]; one moment, one phase of this stream is called [heißt] awareness-of-the-beginningtone, and in this part the first moment of the tone is known (perceived) in the mode of "now" [darin ist der erste Zeitpunkt des Tones in der Weise des Jetzt bewußt]. The tone is given, that means, it is perceived as "now"; and it is perceived as now as long as each of its phases is aware [bewußt] as now. But as long as one phase is perceived as now, there is a continuity of phases perceived as "just gone" and the whole distance from the starting point to the point "now" is perceived as duration just passed by (abgelaufene Dauer), the rest of the duration is perceived as "not yet" existing.4
sind absolute Gegebenheiten, deren Bezweiflung sinnlos wäre. Sodann nehmen wir allerdings auch eine seiende Zeit an, das ist aber nicht die Zeit der Erfahrungswelt, sondern die immanente Zeit des Bewußtseinsverlaufes. Daß das Bewußtsein eines Tonvorganges, einer Melodie, die ich eben höre, ein Nacheinander aufweist, dafür haben wir eine Evidenz, die jeden Zweifel und jede Leugnung sinnlos erscheinen läßt." (3/369) I am quoting Edmund Husserl's Vorlesungen zur Phänomenologie des inneren Zeitbewußtseins. Hrsg. Martin Heidegger, 2. Auflage (1980) [1928]. 3 "Er [der Ton] fangt an und hört auf, und seine ganze Dauereinheit, die Einheit des ganzen Vorgangs, in dem er anfängt und endet, "rückt" nach dem Enden in die immer fernere Vergangenheit. In diesem Zurücksinken "halte" ich ihn noch fest, habe ihn in seiner "Retention", und solange sie anhält, hat er seine eigene Zeitlichkeit, ist er derselbe, seine Dauer ist dieselbe." Vorlesungen, S. 19, 385. < "Ich kann die Auffassung auf die Weise seines Gegebenseins [also das Gegebensein des vergehenden Tones] richten. Er und die Dauer, die er erfüllt, sind in einer Kontinuität von Weisen bewußt, in einem "beständigen Flusse"; ein Punkt, eine Phase dieses Flusses, heißt Bewußtsein vom anhebenden Ton, und darin ist der erste Zeitpunkt der Dauer des Tones in der Weise des Jetzt bewußt. Der Ton ist gegeben, d.h. er ist als jetzt bewußt; er ist aber als jetzt bewußt, "solange" irgendeine seiner Phasen als jetzt bewußt ist. Ist aber irgendeine Zeitphase (entsprechend einem Zeitpunkt der Tondauer) aktuelles Jetzt (ausgenommen die Anfangsphase), so ist eine Kontinuität von Phasen "als" vorhin bewußt und die ganze Strecke der Zeitdauer vom Anfangspunkt bis
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Unlike Brentano, Husserl maintains that something like remembrance and attention is included in every phase o f our perception o f time objects; that means that consciousness refers in each o f its phases to all phases o f the perceived object. In order to understand Husserl's idea, w e have first to divide the act o f perception in phases (which constitutes a first step), and then see how in each phase, the w h o l e is given. Then w e can examine which part o f the object perceived in each phase is "remembered," which is perceived in its pure sense and which is "attended." There is still another difference between Husserl's theory and Brentano's description. Brentano conceived the "keeping" o f the parts of the melody just-having-falled-back as remembrance. Husserl criticized Brentano for dissolving the difference between perception and remembrance in this theory and making it impossible to understand the difference between the intuition o f time-structures from which w e learn what time really is, and its mere symbolic understanding, which could lead us to wrong presupositions on the nature o f time. Therefore Husserl calls the consciousness of the impression just-gone-by retention. This is not a mere terminological operation. Retention itself is not a looking back which constitutes the phase just gone as an object: by keeping the just-gone phase in mind, I live in the present phase, add this (thanks to retention) to that which just had happened, being directed towards that which comes.3 Retention is not a kind of halo or echo o f what has just been heard or seen. One speaks of "weakening" [abklingen] of the contents of perceptions, when originate perception transfers itself to retention. But it [...] must now be clear, that the retentional contents are not contents in the original sense. When a tone weakens, it is first perceived with higher density [Fülle] (intensity), followed by a quick weakening of intensity. The tone is still there, is still received (empfunden), but in a kind of echo. This authentic sensation of the tone has to be taken differentiated (unterscheiden) from the tonal moment held in retention. The retentional given tone is not a present one, but one being remembered "now" in a sort of primary remembrance; it is not really existing (reell vorhanden) in the retentional consciousness. In the same sense, the tonal moment which belongs to it cannot be a really existing (reell vorhandener) tone nor a very weak one being similar concerning its reality (as a kind of echo) [das tonale Moment, das zu diesem gehört, kann aber auch nicht ein reell vorhandener anderer Ton sein, auch nicht ein sehr schwacher realitätsgleicher].6
zum Jetztpunkt ist bewußt als abgelaufene Dauer, die übrige Strecke der Dauer ist aber noch nicht bewußt." Vorlesungen, S. 19, 385f. 5 "die Retention selbst ist kein Zurückblicken, das die abgelaufene Phase zum Objekt macht: indem ich die abgelaufene Phase im Griff habe, durchlebe ich die gegenwärtige, nehme sie dank einer Retention - hinzu, und bin gerichtet auf das kommende (in einer Pretention)." «"Man spricht vom Abklingen, Verblassen usw. der Empfindungsinhalte, wenn eigentliche Wahrnehmung in Retention übergeht. Nun ist es aber schon nach den bisherigen Ausführungen klar, daß die rententionalen "Inhalte" gar keine Inhalte im ursprünglichen Sinne sind. Wenn ein Ton abklingt, so ist er selbst zunächst mit besonderer Fülle (Intensität) empfunden, und daran schließt sich ein rasches Nachlassen der Intensität. Der Ton ist noch da, ist noch empfunden, aber im bloßen Nachhall. Diese echte Tonempfindung ist zu unterscheiden von dem tonalen Moment in der Retention. Der retentionale Ton ist kein gegenwärtiger, sondern eben im Jetzt "primär erinnerter"; er ist im retentionalen Bewußtsein nicht reell vorhanden. Das tonale Moment, das zu diesem gehört, kann aber auch nicht ein reell vorhandener anderer Ton sein, auch nicht ein sehr schwacher realitätsgleicher (als Nachhall)."
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There is another reason which forces Husserl to underline the difference between retention and remembrance. When remembering something, we not only refer to a certain event which happened in the past, but also place it in the order of objective time. We make this reference by passing some "outer" sphere. Retention in contrast does not take this way via the outer world. It has the somehow fascinating and astonishing peculiarity to incorporate the whole once given preceding consciousness. We can understand this when we imagine how the process of a perception has to be described if we accept Husserl's description of its "static" structure. Always a new impression "springs" out from nowhere, adding itself to the first retention of the former impression. This impression is replaced by the retention of this impression and in this way keeping in itself not only the former impression, but the retention of the retention of the first impression together with it and so on. There is a continual "change" of impressions in retentions, retentions in retentions of retentions and so on. 3. Surely at this point the question arises if we can call these changes also a process occurring in time? Husserl denies this but the arguments he uses to avoid infinite regress are not very convincing. So the whole conception is not grounded and there are a lot of serious objections to it. The main arguments are: (1) Husserl can't avoid the infinite regress; and (2) it is not possible to give a satisfying semantic explanation of the meaning of time expressions like "presence," "past" and "future" without using expressions dealing with "objective" meaning. (3) Husserl takes for granted the fact that expressions like "now," "past" or "moment" function in the same way proper names or other singular terms.7 But an analysis of the way these terms function shows that they are integrated in an interplay of mutual replacements so if one uses the shifter "now" he knows that it has to be transformed in an "objective" singular term if he wants to say the same thing when he changes his position in time. So the whole purpose of understanding time by describing its constitution in inner time consciousness is bound to go wrong. There are no general forms of consciousness constituting time as Husserl described it. In order to describe the things or mental events he was able to describe he always already had to use the language of "outer" time. But then the question arises as to what Husserl did then when he talked about this "constitutive" stream, when it was not a description of some somehow perceived "inner" structure. This question becomes far more important when we realize that there are a lot of other "descriptions" of what one might call the same phenomenon which are quite 7
Logical Investigations, II, 1. Deutsch: Logische Untersuchungen, Husserliana, Bd. XIX (1984) [1900]. Concerning the semantical form of expressions in general, Husserl only distinguishes between "expression," "meaning" and "object." In his opinion, every expression has to refer to an object. This leads to a lot of difficulties, especially in his descriptions of singular deictic terms. See Emst Tugendhat, Vorlesungen zur Einfiihrung in die sprachanalytische Philosophie (1976: 143ff.).
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similar to the examples Husserl gave. The idea of inner time consciousness as being the origin of every thought, the starting point and the hidden secret of philosophical thought inasmuch as of "life" itself, is a commonplace of avantgardist thinking at the turn of the century. We can find it in the works of novelists or poets like Hofmannsthal and Rilke, in the work of philosophers like Bergson and Simmel, and in the works of psychologists such as William James. So my question concerns not only the work of Husserl but an important layer of our cultural history on which new theories and new ideas have been grounded. So the question rises once again: What made these "descriptions" understandable? What forced people to be convinced of the ideas of life philosophy as some kind of existential truth? The question now is no longer, "what is time?" and "does Husserl's theory fit or fail the phenomenon?" but "what do we understand when we understand the linguistic operations Husserl uses in order to make clear his point of view? How are we able to understand his theory? What are the conditions for the possibility of communicating this theory? What language games are presupposed here?" In order to investigate Husserl's discourse in this way, it is necessary to try to radically change our attitude. Up to now we examined, in a somehow emphatic way of understanding, as if we were his students believing in his authority and presupposing that the words used by our professor must have some sense which we partly understand, partly not. While following him, we may have had some kind of vague experience of "seeing" the phenomena he tried to describe with his words. Perhaps while reading his theory we had a glimpse of what it means to inhibit the belief in the existence of the world or of outer time, i.e., what it means to understand and describe all this as a pure phenomenon. If we were to reach this point, perhaps we would then try to understand the second step: to distinguish between "pure impression" and the parts of a given perception which "keep" the impressions in mind which have just past. Perhaps at the end when we listened to Husserl's "descriptions" quoted above we had some kind of feeling of gripping this "inner" fluxus of time, this strange fluxus which doesn't really flow; of which it makes no sense to say it flows "fast" or "slow." I have already mentioned that the expressions in question here are expressions of "inner" feelings or "perceptions."8 So from an analytical point of view they cannot get their meaning from a simple act of naming or classifying, as it might be the case with "outer" objects.' When understanding Husserl's descriptions of inner time consciousness, we understand the words he uses as words expressing his perceptions. He expresses or communicates with it the way he perceives things or processes, the way he "feels" time passing by and so on. Mainly in question are peculiar modes of perception of objects - hearing melodies and seeing visual changes. 8
In his Logical Investigations Husserl does not question the concept of inner perception but takes it for granted. With the ongoing research on inner time consciousness, the idea of an inner perception becomes more and more doubtful. To be "perceived" now means to be given in inner time consciousness; but the meaning of "to be given" becomes more and more ununderstandable. It is not a simple structure, and there are less a priori evidences than Husserl expected. 91 am simplifying here in order to clarify the pecularities of the mode in which these expressions are used.
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But Husserl does not only express his perceptions. He wants us to "see the same" so that we are able to verify or falsify his descriptions. So that we can transform his "expressions" in instructions to perceive events in different modes of perceiving to look at movements in this or that mode, to listen to melodies in this or that way. And we can ask what words a student of Husserl would express to show that he understood the instructions - that he learned to perceive in the way Husserl wanted him to do. It is obvious that in order to understand the meaning of the difference between remembrance and retention (for example) we need to understand how the word remembrance is used in its everyday meaning. The use of "retention" and "urimpression" (original impression) must somehow be based on the use of "perception" and "remembering." I therefore will start by investigating the use of these expressions following the hints Wittgenstein gave in the Blue Book, the Brown Book and in his "philosophical investigations" and then try to develop the "rules" of the games leading to the use of the high sophisticated expressions Husserl "invented."
4.
Let's first have a look at the impressions "perception" and "remembrance." We are taught the expression "to see something" in interconnection with our behaviour. For example: a mother notices a balloon. She says to her child, "Look, there's a balloon. Do you see it?" The child does not react. The mother turns the child's face a little bit, so he notices the balloon and starts smiling. The mother could perhaps say, "Now you see it." Perhaps the mother promises the child to go to the zoo to see animals. Now the child names the whole visit to the zoo as "seeing animals." In a similar way, we learn the other linguistic expressions we use to classify someone or ourselves as perceiving something. (The word "perception" here is just a more general form of words like seeing, hearing, etc.)10 We classify someone as "remembering" when he refers to something as being situated in the past. A dog left by his master could be very sad. This means that the dog shows that he refers somehow to the past. But we couldn't say if he is remembering in the very sense of referring to some peculiar situation. There is no behaviour grounding the use of the expression "to remember" in how we normally use it. If we would therefore try to teach somebody the use of the word "to remember," it would presuppose that he is able to use the expression of "referring to something in the past." What kind of behaviour is this? Sometimes when somebody is remembering a special event, he closes his eyes, puts his hand on his forehead and seems to look back in the past. This could be imitated by a chimpanzee. Though these forms of behaviour are very similar to each other, we couldn't say in the case of the chimpanzee that it really is "remembering" something. This behaviour is not the
10 For my purpose, the role of perception in truth is not important. So this step of generalization is not very important for what I want to show.
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behaviour serving as a criteria for the use of the word "to remember."11 We only can talk of somebody as "remembering some event" if he is able to refer to an event as being situated in the past. This is not possible without the use of language. In all cases of classifying people as having propositional attitudes, the grounding behaviour is the performance of certain linguistic or symbolic acts. In this peculiar case it is the linguistic act of the narration of events being situated in the past. If somebody is able to perform an act like this, he is able to learn expressions which enable him to classify himself as remembering, forecasting or - now used in contrast to these expressions - perceiving something. The language games which are constitutive for the speech act of "telling about the past" have already been analyzed by Wittgenstein in his Brown Book. He works out the "hidden" rules of the games in which words like "at that time," "one hour ago," "before I did this" and similar expressions are used. He describes three language games, all of them presupposing a certain linguistic knowledge and some cognitive abilities. He does this by imagining the interaction which is necessary to teach the words in question to a child. The presupposition for the first game is that the child already is able to name some of his toys and ask for them. The game itself then is described by Wittgenstein in the following words: The child now has played with three of them (a ball, a cube and a sleigh); now it is taken away from him with the adult saying something like: now the child has had a ball, a cube and a sleigh. Doing this he makes some peculiar and characterizing gesture; he counts the things, as we would say, with his fingers. The child leams to repeat the sentence and he learns to carry out the gesture of counting with his fingertips. In a similar situation the adult stops doing the enumeration and moves him to go on his own. At another opportunity, he only begins uttering the sentence making the characteristic gesture which alway opens up the enumeration and leaving to the child the act of naming the things.12
It is important here to remark that this game only can be played when it is possible for the interacting people to communicate a difference between things given and things gone. If all the toys of the child would be still present, the game couldn't even start. Even if the child was able to give name to the toys or to use pictures representing them, it would be impossible for him to learn the rule of "telling about the past." In the game just described, the child learns only to refer to something in the past, he does not learn the system of time-relations as organized by the use of words "before," "later" and "now." How the correlating game could be projected is analyzed by Wittgenstein by using another example. Pictures showing characteristic scenes of the child's life are laid down in a certain order which corresponds to the ii Let's look at another example. A chimpanzee hides some food. Now, coming to this area again, he looks around, then starts searching the area, then stops for a moment, and goes straight right to the place where the banana is. Even this behaviour is not the behaviour which grounds the way we use normally the word "to remember." It is necessery for this use, that what is remembered can be remembered "wrongly." '2 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Eine philosophische Betrachtung (Das Braune Buch), in: Werkausgabe Bd. 5 (1984 [ 1969]: 152). The text in German: "Stellen wir uns vor, wie ein Kind zum Gebrauch der Sprachform der 'Erzählung vergangener Ereignisse' abgerichtet werden könnte. Es hat gelernt, verschiedene Dinge mit Worten zu verlangen. [...] Es hat so gelernt, ein Dutzend seiner Spielsachen zu benennen (und zu verlangen). Es hat nun etwa gerade mit dreien von ihnen gespielt (einem Ball, einem Würfel und einer Rodel); nun nimmt man sie ihm fort, und der
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order in which these scenes regularly occur in the child's life. Now the child has to do it on his own. Here, like in the first example, it is important that the child must be able to make mistakes in order to learn the rule. He can't learn the rule in the situation itself. It would not be possible to teach their use to the child, for example, by advising him after every act to say "now I did this."
5.
Is it possible to explain the expressions relevant for Husserl's description of inner time consciousness in a similar way? In order to answer this question, we first have to find out what are the pecularities of the theoretical operation Husserl presents and then we have to look at some possible explanations. The first thing Husserl does is to split off the perceiving consciousness in different phases which he calls momentanous perceptions (Momentananschauungen). Expressing this he distinguishes between one phase of his perception and what follows. Having done this, he is able to deal with the question which had already been the topic of the discussion between Brentano and Meinong: how in the perception of a time-object is the just-gone impression represented? The question cannot be separated from the first, but it opens up another direction of description. The first question could be answered by the naturalistic approach, the second not. The second question can be understood also as a question concerning the possibility of inner time experience, being conceived both as the grounding element of intentionality and as the original form of self-perception, a retention not only being a retention of an impression already given in the sense of genitivus subjectivus, but also in the sense of an genitivus objectivus. Therefore it is possible to change the perspective so that one can direct his attention as well to the "retended impression" as to the way the just gone impression is given now. How is the relation of these two operations to be conceived to the third one, the bracketing or suspension of objective time? Husserl seems to describe it as an introduction to his descriptions, as if one could just reveal the veil of secrecy webbed by the belief in the existence of an objective world hiding an area just lying behind it like an unknown land being explored first by his discoverer and presenting itself to the pure descriptions of the philosopher who managed to change his attitude. Though Husserl uses metaphors to support it, such an interpretation would be erroneous. The concepts of "Momentananschauung" and "retention" cannot be divided from the concept of "bracketing," the explanation of one of them cannot be given without the other and vice versa. We can realize this by trying to understand once again the implications of the concept of "Momentananschauung." The way Husserl describes this concept from Erwachsene sagt etwas wie: 'Er hat einen Ball, eine Würfel und eine Rodel gehabt.' Dabei macht er etwa eine charakteristische Bewegung: er zählt die Dinge, wie wir sagen würden, an den Fingern her. Das Kind lernt ihm den Satz nachsprechen und dabei auch die Bewegung des Herzählens an den Fingern zu machen. Bei einer ähnlichen Gelegenheit bricht der Erwachsene die Aufzählung ab und bewegt das Kind dazu, sie fortzusetzen. Bei einer weiteren Gelegenheit fangt er den Satz nur an und macht die Handbewegung, mit der die Aufzählung immer beginnt, und läßt das Kind alle Dinge selbst nennen."
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the beginning presupposes that we need some inner criteria to distinguish a momentanous perception from the ones which precede or follow it. This means that in order to explain what is meant by "momentanous perception" we cannot go on by saying "see (or listen) at this what you hear right now" ("now" - when I knock on the table, for example). We have to proceed the other way around — we have to distinguish the parts of the melody or of a process given right now from those just gone asking if they are perceived or not. And in fact, this is the way Husserl proceeds. He does not speak of "the perception one has at a certain moment" but of "momentanous perception." And he tries to describe the difference between perception and retention as a difference of quality of two acts or states of mind. So already at this point, when Husserl talks of "Momentananschauung" in the way he does, the concept of "inhibiting" the belief in objective time was already implicated, though Husserl did not see all the implications it had. Tlie concept of retention being correlated to the concept of "Urimpression" (original impression) or "Momentananschauung," the relationship between the use of this concept and that of "bracketing of objective time" is rather more obvious. By analyzing "retention," Husserl is attentive to the positive role the impressions which have just passed have for the perceiving process as a whole. More parts of consciousness (or of the correlated "world") have to undergo the analyzing view, but this means only that the perspective of the analyzing view which from the beginning (with the concept of "Momentananschauung") included the "inhibiting" of objective time and world is expanded. We cannot understand the concept of retention without "bracketing" the belief in the existence of objective world in general. So most of the difficulties combined with the explanation of these concepts are already contained in the concept of "Momentananschauung." Therefore I will start with analyzing this concept. The main difficulty is that the concept of "Momentananschauung," as it is explained by Husserl, presupposes that we can distinguish an impression from its predecessors just because we have it. When he started his analysis, Husserl took it for granted that we could describe these different acts (these aspects or moments of acts) as if they were just given. Later on he observed the difficulties, and changed this concept describing "inner" perception as an integrated part ("moment") of inner time consciousness. But he did not give up the leading concept of a solipsistic "seeing" and "naming" of acts in general. When I now try to question the communicability of the perceptions of inner acts Husserl describes, I will leave the sphere of immanent interpretation.This change of the point of view of description becomes clearer when we try to imagine once again how someone would teach the expressions in question to another person. Once again, the expressions we are dealing with are expressions of modes of perception. So in order to teach and to learn them we need criteria of "outer" behaviour which enable the teacher to see if the learner uses these expressions properly. We can understand this when we try to imagine we would teach all the expressions Husserl uses in the way expressions are taught to a child. In an interaction like this, the expressions we want to investigate would be transformed either to advice or to phrases articulating states of mind. Let's imagine the child trying to look very intelligent, so that he imitates the way we speak. The child might, in his imitating way, say, "Up to now I've been listening to the tone paying attention to the question how long its lasts, but from
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now on I'm listening to the tone 'in its lasting'." Or, "I remember the tone which has just past, but the other tone - this e - 1 have in retention, while hearing the new one. And now I'm perceiving the retention as retention, paying attention to its mode of appearance." - How could we then decide if this child really uses the words in their very special sense? There has to be some behavior one can rely on in judging if these words are used in a consistent manner? - What are the criteria for our distinguishing these ways of perception in the child's behaviour? 6.
If the main concept in question is the concept of "Momentananschauung," the correlating advice would be to perceive something "momentarily." The correlation to this expression would be: now I see (it) momentarily. This would correlate with the advice to divide the moment given in pieces one of them presenting an impression and others retaining the former impression. The next word to be understood would therefore be the word "retention," the expression the pupil has to understand being, "I can distinguish now between retention and original impression (Urimpression)." This could also be expressed as, "I can perceive how the impression which has just past comes to appearence in the moment right now." The third operation included in Husserl's description is the operation of bracketing objective time in general. The distinguishing expressions Husserl uses here are: to pay attention to how long a tone (the time-object) lasts vs. listening to the tone in its duration (hören, wie lang der Ton dauert; auf den Ton "in seiner Dauer" hören). As mentioned above, there would be no recognizable difference between momentary perception and "perception given in one moment" if we tried to use some short events as criteria to define a moment.13 But there might be another way. Because we have to show someone the way he has to look at things, we could try to do this by showing him pictures serving as examples for modes of seeing things in this or that way. And in fact, if we look at the history of painting, there are many examples which illustrate the difference between "looking momentarily" and "looking for a moment at something." Traditional painters (for example, painters of war scenes of the eighteenth century) seem to have stopped the movement of the painted objects in order to represent them; in contrast to them modern painters (like Degas) have somehow frozen their "impression" or "perception" of the movements represented. The older paintings show their objects as if they could stay in their position for a long time. The horse being ready to jump over the fence looks as if it could remain in this position on purpose; the king making some representative gesture looks like doing this for hours. The paintings of Degas on the contrary show the very opposite, so that we feel some tension between the dynamic sense of the content and the static form of representation. Seeing this we seem to feel that it is impossible for a movement to become "frozen" like this. We know that a person who sits on a chair 13
For example, if we would knock on the table giving the explanation, "A momentarily perception is what you see while you hear this noise."
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like this could not sit like this even for a moment (which lasts), another one could not stand like this - he must go on dancing on from this position. In this peculiar way, the position which can be seen in the painting seems to communicate the importance of the moments which have just passed and of the moments which are arriving - because we miss them. Now it is obvious that the technique of painting (as it for example in Degas) was developed by taking photographs as examples. Painters paid attention to the studies made by Marey showing how horses gallop, so that they learned their technique of painting from the technical medium of photography. We could suppose therefore, that the expressions Husserl uses refer to this difference, representing two modes of visual representations. But does this prove that Husserl's language is somehow combined with photography? And does it prove the stronger position I first maintained when I stated that the language of phenomenology concerning time perception could only be possible once given the technical media film and photography? Surely not. One could argue, for example, like this: photography shows nothing but things of the outer world. It does not have anything to do with the way we look at the things. Perhaps painters have imitated the things as they are shown by photographic pictures. Perhaps some insane people tried to look at things as if shown by photographs. But this must not have changed our way to perceive things (which might be given by nature) nor our way to express our perceptions (which is just conventional and therefore has a history fairly independent from technical means of understanding). First, it is just a matter of fact that the expressions Husserl uses in order to present his philosophy of inner time consciousness and phenomenology in general (as, for example, "pure perception," "impression," "interpret as," "to see something as," "natural perception," etc.) have been developed in their special and new sense in the context of the use of photography as a new medium. In a debate concerning photography the thought came up that photographs just show the pure perceptions and not that what is meant by them, not the natural (or "normal) perception which adds some kind of fringes or horizons to the pure perception. Hence photographers, or just people who dealt with esthetic questions concerning photography, developed a new way of expressing perception; we do not perceive what we really see, we always already have interpreted what we (really) see. This way to conceive ordinary perception as being erroneous, not because it deceives us about the attributes of the things we see, but instead about the inner nature of our own perception, represents the general form of how the media of analog recording like photography, film and phonography change the semantics of expression of perception, which lead to the change of some "basic" semantics concerning the way we talk about our relationship to things, to ourselves and to other people. The changing of semantics in the expression of inner time ("Momentananschauung," "Retention," "reduction of objective time") is just a special case of it. How did this influence of media on certain language games take place? The best method to find out how this could have happened is to imagine how one learns the use of the medium. The teacher who already learned to use the camera tries to show his pupil how to avoid bad surprises. He might, for example, tell him, "The camera takes the picture of some object which does not stop moving in reality though the picture will show it as if it were frozen." Normally you do not perceive the influ-
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ence of the impression which has just gone on your impression now. But the photography shows it - by taking it away. So you have to analyze your perception in order to find out the influence of the "just gone" things on the very present ones. So he has to learn to look at a perception as a momentanous perception and he has to learn it concerning his own perception. So he starts analyzing his perception in those parts which are "really given" (which are "momentarily given") and those parts given as "horizon" or "fringes." At the same time he starts to look at his normal perception as a natural perception, being somehow transformed from pure perception through interpretations rising up from earlier experiences. But why does the use of photography lead to this correction of the form of the language we use to express perceptions? A photography, inasmuch as a film does not show the view someone has on something, they are just mirrors that freeze in what is reflected on their surface at a given time. The photographer (or the film director) does not photograph his perception but the object he perceives. In this respect, photographs or films are just like other objects, not intervening directly in our consciousness, and not directly revealing the way we perceive things. Why is it that by using them we come to transform the way we communicate our "inner" experiences, as has been the case from the beginning of the history of photography? To understand this, it is important to see what distinguishes photographic pictures from paintings or drawings made by hand. The difference is that photographic pictures are not only images of something, but at the same time natural signs indicating its existence. And this determines photographic pictures to take the role of an instrument which measures our remembrances. If we don't know who was in our class at school, we look at the picture. If we try to remember what a street we used to walk every day last year looked like (had this house really already been built?) we take a photograph to see the truth. Then, looking at the picture, we say for example: now I see that it was already there. I must have seen it. Photographic pictures are, like traces, criteria for the truth of our propositions concerning past events.14 If this is true, why then does the use of photography as a medium make us correct the expression of perception instead ofthat of remembrance? Let's try once again to see what happens there. Someone takes a picture, he develops it and looks at it. He is surprised — it does not show what he expected to be shown.15 The disappointed photographer has several possibilities to explain the causes of his disappointment. He could start to mistrust his ability to remember, he could blame his camera or he could mistrust the perception he had while taking the picture. In fact, all these explanations are given sometimes. Why did the last one become the most important one for the development of semantics, leading to the creation of phrases correcting our impressions like, "My perception as I believed it to be had some other structure than I believed?" The reason lies in the repeated use of the photog-
14
Which "inner" imaginations and phantasies are not. It is important to see here that, for example, vivid phantasies or imaginations about things that happened in the past play the role of maintaining, not the one of verifying. 13 There is nothing of his "personal impression" to be seen. So he starts thinking about personal impressions.
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raphy, in the possibility it gives us to learn to change our way to perceive which cannot be given by media which are not able to serve as criteria of remembrance in this way. If we imagine photography being technically so complicated - or so expensive - that it would only be possible to take photographs once in every hundred years, this change of semantics could not have taken place. The different explanations of disappointment could not have build up a system of mutual corrections, and there would not have been the possibility to learn. What the photographer learns is to perceive in a given situation (the one in which he takes the photograph) the form (Gestalt) of the later given remembrance of the same moment - and the photographic pictures are criteria for this kind of learning. This function could not be fulfilled by other media not having the same sign-structure - for example painting or drawing. Therefore, the objection that there is no intimate relationship between media and the change in the semantics of utterances of perceiving acts (because it might have been possible to show the different ways to look at things by referring to different paintings or drawings representing the different views) doesn't hit the point. We can perhaps imagine painters ingeniously inventing some method to paint pictures similar to (momentary) photographs. But this would not have lead to a change of the language games which are used to express perceptions, because for these painters there would be no reason to blame their actual perception while "taking the picture." If a painter paints a picture of a street there would not be any possibility for him to look at the picture saying, "Oh, when painting it, I didn't see that this street is so small." "Ordinary" paintings can't serve as criteria for the truth of a proposition concerning objects or events situated in the past. But in order to understand the operation Husserl does with his expressions we need criteria like this concerning visual perceptions.
7.
Perhaps we now can try to explain the other peculiarities in the vocabulary Husserl uses to present his phenomenology of inner time consciousness. If my suppositions concerning the relationship between photography and the semantics of "Momentananschauung" are true, then we have to expect that there is a relationship between the whole semantic structure of the description of inner time consciousness given by Husserl and the use of film, their interconnection being analogous to the one between photography and momentanous perception. The question for Husserl in his investigations of inner time consciousness is how it is possible that we perceive something "in its duration" or some events following one another "in their sequency."1' Now again we can start with asking how we could teach someone to perceive something in one or the other way. In fact, the normal perceiving behaviour gives no criteria concerning this question. We can not decide if somebody who sits in a concert listening to the music perceives in this or that way. In order to talk
" In German, the difference can more clearly be stated: "die Dauer von etwas wahrnehmen" vs. "etwas in seiner Dauer wahrnehmen."
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about the way he perceives we have to look at the things perceived. There are no criteria for different linguistic representations of different ways to perceive time structures given in actual perception. If we want to know them we have to rely on the expression of his remembrance. That a child, for example, has understood the time structure of a narration we see when he is able to reproduce structures like this. There is a difference between retelling events which followed one another and narrating events as one following another. To learn that one follows the other is not possible without using expressions like "earlier than," "later as," etc. It only can be decided if somebody has really learned this behaviour by the fact that he is able to group symbols of different events in different orders. Otherwise no mistakes could be made - no rule could be constituted. Let's suppose for a moment that a child has difficulties learning to group symbols of past events. He isn't able to tell in which order the events took place. Every day he says something like, "first I did this, then I did this," but very seldom what he says is right. In order to help, the adults prepare a few icons every morning showing the events which will happen in the day, but they lay them down without any order. The child is now able to lay down one of the icons at a certain place when one of the events symbolized on an icon is happening. In the evening, when trying to retell the sequence of events which happened that day, these icons serve as means for remembering the sequence of the events. Then, if he is able to do so, the child replaces these symbols with his fingers, and later on he might not need the help of outer symbols. The very act of taking one icon and laying it down when the event occurs we would call to notice this event. This expression, of course, could be used also to classify the finger-pointing or the silent noticing later on. Now we could teach the child the difference between "noticing something" and "retelling events which happened in the past." The learning of the first rule presupposes the learning of the second one - not the other way around. "To notice an order of events" can now be distinguished from "to be able to remember the sequence of events." In this example, the adults first are not able to know if these difficulties (to tell about the events in the order they happened) resulted from the child not understanding the rule "to tell events which happened in the past" or from his difficulty with noticing the events. Only by teaching the language game of noticing to the child they can find out what the difficulties are, i.e., if they concern the child's ability to observe or the difficulty to remember the sequence of events. Once given the diffence between the rules of "to notice something" and "to tell about past events" we can distinguish between the expression of perception of time structures and the expression of their remembrance. Only then we can learn to express differences as made by Meinong or Brentano in their description of time perception. - Now, there exist many diffenrent systems of noticing. Using them as criteria of expression, we can use them in order to express different ways of noticing while perceiving. By this way, different classifications of time-structured perceptions become possible. The differences between Meinong's and Brentano's descriptions are based on these different acts of classification. Both approaches are based on the supposition first articulated by the naturalistic approach that the sequence of events - the tones - must be given at once. This means it must be represented in space. The paradigm for all of these theories of time therefore is the
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model of a written notation of sequency; concerning linguistic sounds it would be the model of phonetic writing. The step which leads us from Brentano to Husserl could be characterized by saying that in Husserl's description, a new system of noticing marks made possible to express time-perception (as perception of sequences) in a new way. Husserl used a new form of language which is based on the use of this system to ground his philosophy. In which way the medium film gives these criteria, I only can announce here.
8.
The film director, as the photographer, has to decide what he is going to record from the things perceived. As in the case of the photographer, this means: to choose the right moment for recording. Both the photographer and the cameraman of a film decide how much time the recording should take. But there is an important difference concerning the "sense" of time perception. The cameraman has to pay attention to time while the camera "works." This is a way of paying attention to time which the photographer doesn't have to deal with. This sense-difference between these two ways of paying attention to time becomes clearer when we try to imagine the conditions of recording as similarly as possible. In order to do this one can imagine someone recording a short film showing only one room, nothing changing in it, just a desk, a chair and a lamp. The movie would show no change, just some static picture. This movie - or part of a movie - would show the same thing as could be shown by a diapositive. Let's imagine that for technical reasons the photographer, in order to produce this diapositive has to look through the viewfinder, as long as it takes to take the shot; this time being as long as the cameraman would use to produce his funny static film. Now, the two would "do " exactly the same. But we would say there is still a huge difference between what they are doing. The cameraman, while filming his movie, has to pay attention to the duration of what he sees, while the photographer has to pay attention only to the measurable time which is necessary to take the photograph. In the first form of interaction, the duration of the perceived process is communicated, which is not the case in the second one. By saying "something lasts for a certain amount of time" we put it in a relation to other events so we can communicate when it starts and when it ends. We say, "this tone lasts as long as the other," "we will walk as long as the sun is shining," "a day is as long as the earth needs to spin around once." This possibility to correct our suppositions concerning the length of events leads to the first dimension of expressions of "subjective" time. For example, somebody who composes a melody with his piano would pay attention to the impression the tones give in the context of the whole melody. He would make one tone last a little bit longer than he believes would be expected, another one a little shorter. He plays with our "subjective" feeling of time, our inner sense of time, dealing with our immediate experience of it. The object of his experiments is our attention to how long a tone would last, originating from cultural habits or natural circumstances (the rhythm of the heart-beat, etc.). That in these cases we speak of time seeming to us to be long or short means only that they are not as long or short as we expected them to be.
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Because we tend to measure how long events last in this way, we can talk more generally of the difference between our subjective feeling of time and the measured time we call objective time. Used in this way, the expression "time seems to last very long" is an expression used in mutual relation with an act of self-correction and an act of measurement. In this context, "to pay attention to the time in which something lasts" only can mean, "to pay attention to how long it really lasts." By means of this kind of measurement alone the difference between "to pay attention to the (inner) duration of the tone and to pay attention to the time the tone lasts" - which is pointed out by Husserl in his descriptions - wouldn't make too much sense. But it makes sense in the context of the use of the new media of recording. It points out an important difference between the cameraman's "pure" experience of time and the "natural" experience. We can see how this works if we once again imagine which kind of terms an older cameraman would use to teach a younger one the semantic know-how he needs to handle the medium. He would say first something like, "Normally you don't pay too much attention to the lasting or the sequence of what you are perceiving." The time a thing lasts (or exists) and the time it takes you to perceive it are two completely different aspects to you. But the movie you will see later on will show what it shows only as long as you recorded it. The spectator will only see the things in the sequence as you recorded them." Normally you see what you see in a sequence of perceptions being made from different points of view. You don't focus on the way the perceived thing comes to appearance in correlation to the sequence of your perceptions. So you don't pay attention to the way the perception of the event just perceived influences the following perceptions. If you want to make movies, you have to learn to see things given in only one sequence of perceptions. Having learned this, you will see that your ability to remember plays another role in your perception. It will be as if you were seeing everything that you see in some kind of narrative form. In other words, you are noticing the events while seeing them. This constitutes a new form of seeing and noticing time-structured objects. Speaking in this way the teacher distinguishes between two ways of observing a sequence, orienting himself to different forms of remembering the sequence of these events. One form is the usual form of remembering (Husserl calls this form "Wiedererinnerung"). The other form is the memory working always and at once Brentano speaks in this case of "original association," Husserl - but with a certain change of meaning - of retention. This way of "noticing remembrance" will always take place when it is necessary to look at events in order to find how they are perceived or understood later on. The last step - the one which leads from Brentano's concept of "original association" to Husserl's concept of retention - could be explained in a similar way. The best way to understand how this mode of perceiving time passing by could develop is to imagine once again the cameraman's teaching talk. He might argue like this: "Even if you learned what I told you above," he could say, "you are unable to see what the spectator will later see on the screen. Because for you, i.e., for your natural way of looking at events, the sequence of events just happening is embedded in " I'm also simplifying here. But the possibility of cuts, for example, does not change what I'm going to explain here. It is just another aspect of the same thing.
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an 'outer' objective time; it has its position in objective time. The spectator, in contrast, has to give to everything he is seeing a place in a time-system originated in this movie only. Any other way of time-structuring is not possible for him. Therefore when recording you have to assume that the things you see are all that you know, as if you are creating with your view a new system of time and space." For someone seeing the world from such a perspective, the form of noticing will change. He isn't allowed to remember the just-gone event in the normal sense of looking back. And this is so because he has to look at what he sees in the way it will appear to some later given view. If I am right with my explanation then "retention" has to be understood as the new form of "noticing something" which comes into being because its old form has been integrated into perception.
9.
What are the origins of the experiences which the photographer and the cameraman are teaching? In which way do media influence the special form in which they change their attitude? Let's once again go back to the attitude of the photographer. His aim is to take a picture of a situation or an object so we can look later at the event it shows. This is the case because photography is a sign system which combines two sign relations: the sign-relation of depicting on the one hand and the sign relation of "natural signs" on the other. The last aspect is responsible for the effect that the photographer looks at what he sees as an image to be seen on a later given picture. It causes the effects which photography has on the semantics of sentences expressing perception, remembrance, etc. TTie other aspect is responsible for the way the cameraman and the photographer look at the given situation. In order to understand it we have to investigate the special forms of depicting being integrated in photography and film. What is a picture? An explanation usually given is that something is a picture because it resembles another thing in a certain manner. But it is obvious that this explanation isn't satisfying. If one window looks the same as another, it doesn't therefore become a picture of this other window. Husserl - to quote a mentalistic approach - maintained that a thing happens to be a picture by being interpreted in a certain way. We grasp it as meaning something else by similarity. This answer solves the problems of the first approach - but there are new difficulties arising with it. Seeing things as pictures is a culturally grounded behaviour. We learn to see the same things as pictures our environment does. We have to learn to look at certain things as pictures. This means we communicate about our perceiving them as pictures. How is this possible, when understanding a thing is caused by a private act of interpreting? The problem here is similar to the problem of a mentalistic theory concerning the semantics of spoken words; how can we communicate the "meaning" of a thing depicted? In order to explain this we have to look at the behaviour of the "language games" (depicting games) in which we "create" pictures. A game like this could be to look at a cloud and point to it while saying, "this is a rabbit." In this situation we do, in a way, the same thing as we do when classifying things or events. We pick out an object by a singular deictic term, and we classify it by a
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general term. But what happens here is neither a normal classification nor a metaphorical way of classification but a metaphorical classification turned upside down. The leading classifying rule of the general term remaining the same, the object is going to be changed now in a certain way. To the game of depicting there belongs (1) a certain linguistic behaviour combined with (2) some special gestures and (3) a peculiar symbolic use of objects. If we explain "depicting" by following this method, we have to realize that there are a lot of different games possible. It is also possible to invent new games. Photography and film can be regarded as a result of technical integration of some forms of depicting games with forms of the arbitrary use of natural sign-functions. The pecularity of the depicting games included here is that they depict time in a certain manner. To the depicting game inherent in photography, for example, belong sentences like, "regard this as if happening now." We always can understand photographs as pictures of "situations" and not as pictures of objects.18 The depicting rules inherent in film are more complicated. Here it becomes necessary to take into account not only the sentences but also the gestures integrated in the depicting game. One of these gestures is, for example, to show pictures one after another the sequence of showing belonging to the depicting game which means in fact to the meaning of the picture. Here we see the gesture which could be understood as the heart of the film, the "negative" of it being the theory of inner time consciousness (as was described by Husserl).
10.
When we analyze the whole change which leads from the "old" psychological conception as presented by Brentano and Meinong to grown-up phenomenology, we find that it has a certain structure, one and the same form of changing expressions of perceptions and inner feelings having different consequences because of the different semantic structures of the expressions and forms undergoing this change. This becomes visible when we look at the way the different forms are changed but we can also understand it in a more abstract way by comparing the two philosophical attitudes which are represented by Descartes' foundation of epistemological criticism on the one hand, and Husserl's foundation of phenomenological criticism on the other. Husserl himself has marked the differences between these two attitudes in Cartesian Meditations. It can be clarified by exposing the different concepts of doubt leading them. The traditional epistemological doubt can be articulated by the question: "Do the perceptions I just have correspond to something 'in the world'?" The leading concept of doubt guiding Husserl can be expressed by the question: "Do I really have the impressions I believe I have?" Both concepts of doubt arise from a generalization of language games of doubt 18
This explanation is not quite satisfying because we would have to explain the very abstract concept of "object" here. The main point (which I tried to explain more in my Sprachkrise und Verbildlichung, 1995) is that in the "normal" form (as given in the example above) the term which "depicts" the perceived thing is a sortal while in case of photography it is a singular deictic term of time.
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guided by the possibility to correct propositions via the verifying or falsifying of experiences preformed in ordinary language. In the first case, the correcting experience is just another sensual perception; the correction is generalized by the means of natural sciences. In the second case, the correcting experience is given through the use of media of analog recording, the possibility of seeing again and again the same event we saw once in a moment. What can we learn from this about the nature of media? In order to propose an answer to this question let me review my points. I began with presenting a change in philosophic and psychologic theories concerning time consciousness which in my opinion was important for the development of Western philosophy which took place in the last years of the 19th century. I then looked at the semantics of expressions used in the new theories in their time with a Wittgensteinian view in order to find out what made these theories communicable. I argued that these language games include the use of media of analog recording, trying to show that games with rules like this could not be played by other means of expression. In doing this, i.e., looking at the way media of analog recording could have influenced semantics, I followed an intuition, a procedure which is allowed to the historian. But if we want to know something about the effects of new media on the main operations of our semantics, we follow intuitions. Therefore an analysis of the cultural history of media the goal of which is a general theory of the cultural importance of media would have to start with analyzing media as systems being able to influence our semantics in the way I tried to show. This means understanding them as some kind of meaning-creating gestures, being in a way a part of language.
11.
Literature
Husserl, Edmund 1980 [1928] Vorlesungen zur Phänomenologie des inneren Zeitbewußtseins. Hrsg. Martin Heidegger, 2. Auflage. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Husserl, Edmund 1984 [1900] Logische Untersuchungen, Husserliana, Bd. XIX. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Kittler, Friedrich A. 1985 Aufschreibesysteme 1800/1900. München: Wilhelm Finke Verlag. Konitzer, Werner 1995 Sprachkrise und Verbildlichung. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Tugendhat, Ernst 1976 Vorlesungen zur Einfiihrung in die sprachanalytische Philosophie. Frankfurt/ Main: Suhrkamp. Wittgenstein, Ludwig 1984 [ 1969] Eine philosophische Betrachtung (Das Braune Buch), in: Werkausgabe Bd. 5, Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp.
MARCELLO LA MATINA
Media and Languages From Nelson Goodman's Philosophy of Languages to a Scheme for a Semiotic-Philological Theory of Communication
Philosophers sometimes mistake features of discourse for features of the subject of discourse. [...] According to this line of thinking, I suppose that before describing the world in English we ought to deteimine whether it is written in English, and that we ought to examine very carefully how the world is spelled. - Nelson Goodman, Problems and Projects, p. 24.
0.
Forward: Media as Languages?
The media repeatedly attract the attention of those who work in the field of communication. They are also of interest to scholars (linguists, philosophers, masscommunications experts, etc.). In spite of such multifarious interest, the question "What exactly are media?" still today remains full of meaning. Latin etymology is of little use to us: medium is the intermediary between two or more things, and thus is what provides a contact between two universes, which are really or only virtually connected. Media, therefore, are related to interaction, social behaviour and communication in the broad sense. But, stricto sensu, how do they involve language and the various disciplines of communication? And in what way is a "mediologist" also a scholar of language? Essentially, people talk about media in three ways. In the first sense they are viewed as technologies which are capable of substituting a given human faculty, widening its importance. The "discoverer" of media, McLuhan, saw them as playing a leading role in social life and as instruments of authentic revolutions. The characteristic of media when considered as "technologies" lies in the fact that they embody their meaning or, rather, their message. They absorb the interest of their users and, if they assume a content, it is at most another medium that is thus integrated into the first. Media technologies are not instruments of deferment but catalysts. Secondly, the medium can be considered as substitutive. It is an instrument presented for the attention of the user as a meaningful form (Significans) which is able to defer to its meaning (Significatum). Unlike media technologies, media deferments do not contain their meaning in themselves but they can, in various ways, represent it. To use Peirce's term, they are Representamina. According to a conception that seems to combine the first two senses, a medium is a type of technology which is capable of modulating and controlling the
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relationship in a given culture between its products and the instruments used for their manifestation. More specifically, this relationship regards the verbal language and the type of communication that makes use of it. Scholars who consider media in the third sense emphasise the difference between oral language and written language, that is, oral medium and written medium. In their opinion, it is not a question of two technologies that have a casual connection with language, but of two antithetical structures of the use of words, society and culture. Oral production and writing (but also visuality and symbolisation, etc.) serve as intermediaries for different conceptions of the world, and not only for technologies which are able to involve the relationship between their respective users in a radical way. If linguists and oralists deal exclusively with the relationship between oral language and writing, philosophers of language are concerned with verbal language tout court and the analysis of its logico-semantic structure. But in many cases they disregard the ways in which they manifest themselves and the relation with other types of language used in communication. Nowadays, experts in the field of semiotics, who have inherited a tradition dating back to Greek medicine and Stoic semiotics, are concerned with different sign systems. Therefore, if oral and written languages are linguistic media, all systems used by homo symbolicus are semiotic media. But what do we mean when we say that media are symbolic systems (like verbal languages or any other non-verbal system)? Scholars usually think that to say that media are symbolic systems means that they participate in the "nature'V'structure" of verbal language. The difference only seems to be of a material type. Consequently, media are studied by projecting onto them the structure previously ascribed to verbal language. This now raises the question about what the implications are of projecting the structure of verbal language, for example, onto the non-verbal pictorial medium or onto any other medium. But, is not the simple fact of considering media as being "interesting from the point of view of communication" the same as saying that they have already been brought to the same level as language? In this "Media=Language" equivalence there is a risk that "language" can mean "what we are able to experience nowadays as language using verbal language as an exemplification of the essential features of language tout court." This seems to suggest the following two questions: (1) (2)
does verbal language possess all the features of language tout court? do media participate in the features of language in a distributive way (in the sense that each medium possesses all the features of a language?)
According to the type of answer given to these questions a whole series of theoretical approaches is destined to change: the interaction between media, the intertranslatability and the methodicalness of a medium. In this article the idea put forward is that all media are languages but that not all of them possess the whole range of features of language tout court. I would define this idea as medial holism1. The procedure used is as follows. In the first part of the
1
1 use the word "medial" in the sense of "specific-to-media" or "specific-to-a-medium."
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article (chapters 1.-3.) we trace the path which led the philosopher Nelson Goodman to delineate a personal and original philosophy of language trying to extend the formal properties of a notation to every language. In the second part (chapters 4.-5.) we see how Goodman's theory needs certain restrictions and we suggest our model of medial communication which is termed Editor Theory. 1.
Projections
1.1
General Features of the Philosophy of Goodman
In an essay of 1953 Goodman summed up his opinion of the role of philosophy in the following terms: A philosophic problem is a call to provide an adequate explanation in terms of an acceptable basis. [... ] [However] what intrigues us as a problem, and what will satisfy us as a solution, will depend upon the line we draw between what is already clear and what needs to be clarified.
(FFF: 31) Even without going as far as to say that in these words "there is all of Goodman," we can still recognise in this statement the three basic features that dominate Goodman's research. The first is the constructional principle, which Goodman took from Der logische Aufbau der Welt [The logical construction of the world] by Carnap. In that work of 1928 Carnap attempted to create a philosophical system which allowed the construction of various types of "objects" starting from a basis confined to factors assumed as primitives in the system. Since only these basic elements are considered genuine in a constructional system the ontology of the system is determined by the type of basis that is selected. Goodman attempted to develop - above all in SA - Carnap's Aujbau, by highlighting the qualities of constructionalism and trying to correct its faults. From the decision to orient himself towards a constructional philosophy rather than towards a type of foundationalism, two other essential methodological principles are derived. The first consists of the need for economy in the choice of factors which would constitute an appropriate basis for the system. Here a distinction must be drawn between Goodman and all those philosophers who accept "to speak of everything with all means." Economy means above all placing an absolute limit on the forms of philosophical discourse that are permitted. But such syntactic austerity is significant above all because of its semantic contribution, which consists of a modern version of ontological nominalism. The second principle implicit in the quotation is normally labelled methodological pluralism. This consists of the assumption that one single philosophical problem (or one single context of phenomena) can be satisfactorily explained within the terms of different theories which are sometimes incompatible with each other. Goodman's pluralism means that neither what has to be clarified (= the explicanda) nor the clarifications (= the explicantia) possess an absolute structure, both of them are already in a relative position as regards any given way of seeing the world, or as regards a system of descriptions. Thus, substantially, the semantic correlative of methodological pluralism is ontological relativism.
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The Choice of a Basis
In having to choose an acceptable basis (that is, both economical and appropriate) for a system it is quite easy to think of a phenomenalistic basis. A basis made up of phenomenalistic objects could be, for example, a basis consisting only of observable properties of things. A match that burns, a piece of wax that melts: these are phenomena which can be described in terms of manifest predicates ("x-burns at time f"; ">>-melts at time i"2). The snag is that beyond the predicates of this kind, the system must explain those predicates which are termed dispositional·, e.g., "x-is inflammable," "JMS meltable." These do not describe events and are not always reducible to manifest predicates: a thing may be inflammable and may never have caught fire, it may be meltable and may never have been melted: the application of a dispositional predicate thus presents the creator of a system with a problem of descriptive and ontological economy: how does one explain these predicates without having to allow intensional objects into the system, such as "meltability" and, on the other hand, without having to fall back on false explicantia such as "x-can bum"?3 One type of solution - which Goodman, however, rejects - consists of transforming the dispositional predicates into counterfactual conditionals.4 This would occur, for example, translating a statement such as (1)
/ w a s inflammable at time t into the statement
(2)
i f / h a d been subjected to heat at time t, then/would have ignited.
The substitution of "inflammable" with "it ignites at time t, if subjected to heat at time t " eliminates the dispositional, stating that if the circumstances had been favourable, a certain event would have taken place. But we remain uncertain as to 2
In logical terms it is convenient to consider predicative terms ("red," "he runs," etc.) as open sentences, i.e., as expressions which contain a term (e.g., "red") accompanied by one or more free variables (e.g., "x is red"). The quotation of an expression would require a differentiated use of quotation marks. For convenience sake, in the following pages, I shall use only one type of quotation marks. 3 The problem is not as marginal as it seems at first sight. Disposition-terms are in fact a lot more common than they appear to be. Other than obviously dispositional predicates which present the characteristic ending in "-able" or "-ible," also predicates like "red" or "cubic" can be regarded as dispositional. In fact, observes Goodman, "If a flexible object is one capable of bending under appropriate pressure, [...] a red object is likewise one capable of certain color-appearances under certain lights; and a cubical object is one capable of fitting try squares and measuring instruments in certain ways" (FFF: 40-41). 4 A counterfactual is a compound proposition having the same logical form as the material conditional " i f ρ then q" with the difference that it is characterised by the falsity of the antecedent. In Italian conditionals of this type require a verb in the subjunctive. Quine (1978: 23) says: "Whoever affirms a conditional thus in the subjunctive mood is already prepared in advance to maintain also, unconditionally, the falsehood of the antecedent, but still he thinks the conditional adds some information."
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which utterances are important for the definition of the "favourable circumstances." In fact it can happen that a liquid does not burn because it has only been subjected to heat. In such cases it would be paradoxical to have a dispositional statement like "k is inflammable (at time /)" which is true for every value of t, whilst some counterfactual translations - such as "if k had been appropriately subjected to heat, k would have burnt (at time t)" - could be false for some values of t (say, in a circumstance where there is no oxygen). So, counterfactuals are not suitable translations of dispositionals and do not help to eliminate them. Nor can the problem be seen as the elimination of dispositionals. Rather, it is the explanation of them without referring to undesirable entities. We need to underline the importance that the choice of a type of predicate (whether manifest or dispositional) has in the ontology of a system. The principle of economy requires that both the predicates of the type "x burns" and those of the type "x is inflammable" are applied to entities which are constructed in terms of existing events (in the logical sense of existence). Thus, whilst manifest predicates seem to satisfy this criterion, the dispositionals appear to be able to apply to their denotata by virtue of something that is only possible: when I speak of something that is "inflammable," I should be prepared to admit that this something is not burning now, that it may not have burnt in the past and that it may never burn in the future. 1.3
Dispositions and Projections
The solution proposed by Goodman is rather complex and requires two preliminary steps. In the first, the problem of dispositionals (but also that of counterfactuals and possibles) is redefined as a problem of forecasting. It is a question, explains Goodman, of understanding "how, beginning with a manifest predicate like 'burns,' we can in effect spread it over a wider range by defining a correlative predicate like 'inflammable' that covers things that burn and certain other things also, but nothing that fails to burn." (FFF: 57) So the first step consists of the introduction of a type of predicate, which we can call"short term predicates" which are not applied to long-enduring objects but to sufficiently brief temporal segments5 of them. Let us suppose that A (= "x burns") and Β (= "χ is subjected to heat") are, for now, two of these predicates. Then we can see if there exist circumstances in which these predicates, together, apply to something. If they do, predicate C (= "x burns, if subjected to heat") can thus be applied, and if they do not, D (= "JC does not burn, if subjected to heat") can be applied. Let us concentrate on these last two predicates C and D. Outside the system we can come across things that do not burn if subjected to heat. But from the fact that a given object does not satisfy the predicate "x burns, if subjected to heat" it does not follow that the predicate "x does not burn, if subjected to heat" can be applied. It is only within the system that C and D are mutually exclusive, in that either one or the other is true. And they are, because we have arranged it in such a way that they are, by establishing (by means of the auxiliary predicate "x is subjected to heat") that the set of denotata of both C and D include the whole set of things that 5
"Sufficiently brief' here means "so that none covers any two separate occasions when the object is under suitable pressure" (FFF: 43-44).
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are subjected to heat (= the denotata of B). Thus, within our system all the objects that are subjected to heat, and only those, are objects which burn or are objects which do not burn. Outside the system the dichotomy may not be valid. As a consequence of this decision we are assured two advantages. Firstly, we can say that within the given domain (which in the system is made up of all things subjected to heat) it is theoretically possible to establish that a given object does not belong to the set of things to which the predicate "x burns" is applied, or does not belong to the set of things to which the predicate "x does not bum" is applied. Secondly, since the variable χ ranges over temporal segments of objects and not to lasting objects, we can define the dichotomy "inflammable" vs. "not inflammable" as a projection of the dichotomy "it burns" vs. "it does not burn" over temporal segments of objects, for which we have no manifest predicate at moment t. The problem of the construction of an appropriate basis has become a problem offorecasting. We must now understand how a given manifest predicate like A must be correlated to some "auxiliary" predicates like B, if the fact that these auxiliary predicates apply to an object k is to be ground for applying to k a predicate A' (for example, "x is inflammable"), which is broader than A (= "x burns"). 1.4
Hume Revisited
Projecting a predicate over a domain of things is the same as formulating an inductive prediction about the extension of that predicate. In the example above, the predicates C and D were constructed as a result of the joint observations about things that burn (or do not bum) and, at the same time, are subjected to heat. But a compound predicate such as (3)
"k burns at time t, if subjected to heat at time t "
is not confined to registering a coincidence of the events described by each simple statement. It asserts that there is some causal link between the two elements. And as this link is not the logical consequence of some statement nor is it evident on the basis of that particular experience, we need to find a criterion that justifies the projection. Put in this way, Goodman's problem is the same as Hume's problem: how can we consider as valid judgements about the future since these judgements do not derive logically from some premise nor can be considered simply as results of experience? Hume's answer consisted of saying that the inductive prediction is carried through on the basis of a habitus, which has been formed in accordance with certain recurrences observed in the past: No matter of fact can be proved but from its cause or its effects. Nothing can be known to be the cause of another but by experience. We can give no reason for extending to the future our experience in the past; but we are entirely determined by custom, when we conceive an effect to follow from its usual cause.6
Goodman substantially accepts Hume's formulations, but he pushes on further. Hume referred to the regularity of past experience considering as generally valid 'Hume 1980 [1740]: 34 [19].
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the predictions formulated in accordance with this regularity. Goodman now demonstrates (by making reference to his amusing apology of the fictional predicate "grue")7 that the reply supplied by Hume was at least incomplete because Hume did not distinguish between regularities that determine an expectation and regularities that do not. In Goodman's apology, the emeralds considered before moment t lead one to expect that all emeralds are green. But grue emeralds do not lead to a similar expectation. What is needed to make Hume's reply complete is, therefore, a criterion that helps to distinguish predicates that can be projection from those which cannot (like "grue"). 1.5
Towards a Projection Theory
Goodman sets out to illustrate a projection theory that defines a valid projection as "a certain relationship between evidence or base cases on the one hand, and hypotheses, predictions or projection on the other" (FFF: 84). It is clear from the above paragraph that such a theory cannot be formulated in the same way as a logical calculus. Indeed, in this case the same statements could equally support either the projection that "all emeralds are green" or the projection that "all emeralds are grue." On the basis of no more than the syntactical form of a given inference we cannot assert that that inference is inductively valid. Thus, a simple theory of confirmation (in the sense given by Hempel8) cannot - however useful it may be - alone constitute an adequate theoretical basis for the treatment of projections. Goodman correctly observes: "The fact is that whenever we set about determining the validity of a given basis, we have and use a good deal of other relevant 7
The demonstration of what Goodman defined "a new riddle of induction" has now become a classic of philosophy and it can be found in FFF: 84—86; but see also P&P: 371-388. For the reader's convenience I include here the entire text of the demonstration: "Suppose that all emeralds examined before a certain time t are green. At time t, then, our observations support the hypothesis that all emeralds are green; and this is in accord with our definition of confirmation. Our evidence statements assert that emerald a is green, that emerald b is green, and so on: and each confirms the general hypothesis that all emeralds are green. So far, so good. Now let me introduce another predicate less familiar than "green." It is the predicate "grue" and it applies to all things examined before ί just in case they are green but to other things just in case they are blue. Then at time t we have, for each evidence statement asserting that a given emerald is green, a parallel evidence statement asserting that the emerald is grue. And the statements that emerald a is grue, that emerald b is grue, and so on, will each confirm the general hypothesis that all emeralds are grue. Thus according to our definition, the prediction that all emeralds subsequently examined will be green and the prediction that all will be grue are alike confirmed by evidence statements describing the same observations. But if an emerald subsequently examined is grue, it is blue and hence not green. Thus although we are well aware which of the two incompatible predictions is genuinely confirmed, they are equally well confirmed according to our present definition. Moreover, it is clear that if we simply choose an appropriate predicate, then on the basis of these same observations we shall have equal confirmation, by our definition, for any prediction whatever about other emeralds - or indeed about anything else. As in our earlier example, only the predictions subsumed under lawlike hypotheses are genuinely confirmed; but we have not criterion as yet for determining lawlikeness." (P&P: 381-382) 8 The fundamental reference is to Hempel (1943). Among the most recent works we should recall Hempel (1966), esp. chapters 3 and 4, which respectively deal with "The verification of hypothesis" and with "The criteria of confirmation and acceptability."
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knowledge" (FFF: 85). This basis of extra-logical knowledge does not consist solely of the registering - however broadly - of the collected substantiating elements. It also includes the registering of the effective projections that have been produced in the past. Intuitively, all of this is now clear. Hume's reply to the enigma of induction rested precisely upon the human capacity for the formation of habitus on the basis of observed regularities. The problem for Goodman is to organize these intuitive axioms within a philosophical discourse that is not amorphous. This is where Goodman makes his second and decisive step by integrating the confirmation theory (which deals with the logical and syntactical relationship between statements and hypotheses) with an extra-logical theory (capable also of dealing with the "history" of the projections made). This would enable a "record of projections of a mass of heterogeneous hypotheses at various time" (FFF: 92), seeking, for the time being, to define not the ability to projection in an absolute sense, but only the projectibility at a time. The central role in the projection theory is played by the notion of "entrenchment" which consists of the application of a specific index to two predicates of two conflicting projections. This is done on the basis of the documentation relating to the real projections of each predicate which were made at a time previous to the time of the present projection. A given predicate Ρ is considered better entrenched than predicate Q on the basis of the history of the effective projections of both. In Goodman's apology, for example, the predicates "grue" and "green" were on the same level even though they were obviously in conflict. Now we can say - looking at the past affirmations of the two predicates - that "green" was projectible because it was better entrenched than "grue." This may seem staringly obvious. It would suffice to consult the history of any pair of linguistic labels and then choose the one that is better affirmed: a task which could be carried out on the computer. The gathering and analysis of projections, however, is not a mechanical process. It must take account of the highly specialized role played by language as regards the classification and re-evocation of experience. Thus: The entrenchment of a predicate results from the actual projection not merely of that predicate alone but also of all predicates coextensive with it. In a sense, not the word itself but the class it selects is what becomes entrenched, and to speak of the entrenchment of a predicate is to speak elliptically of the entrenchment of the extension of that predicate. {FFF: 95)
This means that the entrenchment of a predicate should be contextualized within the effective use of language. Therefore, it is the way a language organizes information that conditions the validity of an induction. Hume made reference to certain recurrences in our perception of experience. Kant thought that there was a stable organization of the categories through which we think of the world and traced this organization to the particular nature of the human mind. Like them, Goodman is convinced that a valid induction (or projection) is not the result of a divinatory act, but a statement made in accordance with certain patterns that have been in some way observed. Differently from them, however, Goodman can now assert that a valid projection is a function of certain linguistic practices. With his words: "the line between valid and invalid predictions (or inductions or projections) is drawn upon the basis of how the world is and has been described and anticipated in words" (FFF\ 121).
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In chapter 4. we shall see what advantages and what problems a notion like entrenchment presents to a student of texts. Our lengthy ride over the rough terrain of logic will certainly have been tiring. But I trust that it will serve to facilitate the reading of the pages that follow. Now let us turn to the symbolic activities through which man gives form to the world he lives in. 2.
Notations
2.1
Spelling a Language
Let us begin with a brief example. Look at the string of letters shown in Figure 1. This is a fragment of a funeral inscription known as Epitaphium Sicili.*
Figure 1
The letters which can be seen in the epigraph belong to two different types of notation used in ancient Greece. The largest are letters of the Greek alphabet, whilst the smaller symbols belong to the notation of ancient Greek music. Let us suppose that we know nothing about the history of this type of notation and let us ask: how can we know whether or not two occurrences are identical within one of the two systems? Goodman (P&P: 437-446) argued persuasively that mere similarity cannot be considered a sufficient criterion either to say that certain inscriptions are "tokens" of a certain type, or that one is a real copy of the other. Indeed, the belief that two (or more) inscriptions of a single type are more similar to each other than to inscriptions of a different letter no longer holds good when we take an unbiased look at Figure 2: « Epitaphium Sicili is a very rare example of a funeral epigram in which the element consisting of words is accompanied by musical notation signs. See La Matina 1994b for my analysis of the text.
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d w
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Λ Μ
Figure 2
What appears to be important is not so much the similarity in itself as much as the similarity in certain respects. Furthermore, given that we can find a satisfactory criterion for an equivalence (or an identity) between the inscriptions, will this tell us if the inscriptions in Figure 1 are being used as an expression of a language (in this case, Greek)? The answer is no. The link between notation and language (in the intuitive sense of language) is something to be ascertained empirically, not deductively. In fact, there exist, and there have existed, languages without notation. Ancient Greek was, at least until Plato's time, a primarily oral language. Today, this is still true of the languages of the Manda tribe of West Africa and of the Sioux Indians of North America. On the other hand, there exist, and have existed, types of notation which no longer have a language. An example of this is the socalled "Linear A": a kind of script used in Crete presumably between 1750 and 1450 BC. which has not yet been deciphered. We can also cite the script of the Maya or the inscriptions found on the gigantic Moas on Easter Island. This leaves two questions open: (a) how can we identify the basic units of a system of notation? (b) how can we relate such a system to a language? Goodman sustains that one valid answer may be found within an organic theory that adopts an inductive mechanism (i.e., that of forecasting, or projecting) as a central device. This theory - that he called notation theory10 - did not have to address the study of natural languages alone, but took account of the whole panorama of man's symbolic activities. Goodman declares himself convinced that a systematic study of non-verbal symbolic systems can also contribute to an improved understanding of the problems encountered in the study of verbal language, in particular concerning the reflection on the various forms and instruments of reference. In the preceding paragraph we raised two questions. But we should remember that Goodman does not always explicitly differentiate the level of spelling from that of - let us say - language. An excellent example of this is the word "symbol," which he uses sometimes to refer to the elements of a language (verbal, pictorial, musical, etc.) and sometimes to the elements of a system of spelling. This being so, at certain points his argumentation produces some inconsistencies. In reality, as I will suggest sub 4, this not only concerns a terminological problem, but also a system gap. io Notation theory is presented chiefly in LA, but is also discussed in P&P and passim in WW. Although this theory is developed in a Platonistic language (i.e., by making use of classes), Goodman maintains that a nominalistic version is possible in accordance with the principles of - above all ontological - economy referred to sub 1.1.
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General Aspects and Function of a Notation
Initially, we can consider a notation as a special type of language" having rules which are similar to those of a syntax and to those of a semantics. Goodman may have some objection to this formulation, but would accept the basic idea. The basic elements of the combination are specific marks, (also termed "inscriptions" or "signs"). All the marks that the notation accepts as real copies of each other produce a given abstract class known as character. Syntactically equivalent marks are termed "character-indifferent."12 Apart from marks and characters a notation must include a certain number of rules which link the elements together. Thus we can distinguish atomic inscriptions (i.e., inscriptions whose constituents are not other inscriptions) from compound inscriptions (i.e., inscriptions having at least one other inscription as a constituent). In the same way, we can introduce the distinction between atomic characters and compound characters. The rules concerning characters and their combinations are sometimes created by the constructor of a notational system and sometimes determined by usage and consolidated by tradition. All of the characters in a notation along with all of the rules constitute a notational scheme. An example of character in a notational scheme is presented in a common musical score. To the eyes of a reader who is familiar with music this is seen as a configuration of atomic inscriptions (the single note signs), each of which belongs to a character (the class of the inscriptions that are inscriptions of the same note). Thus, on the basis of a knowledge of the methods used to combine correctly these atomic characters, a score can be considered in its entirety as a compound character whose constituents are other characters. When a notational scheme is placed in relation to a field of reference we have a notational system. The relationship between scheme and field of reference is a semantic relationship which Goodman calls compliance. In particular, compliance is the relationship which links each individual inscription of a character with a given class (or classes) of things, termed compliance-class. We need to specify that the compliance that Goodman speaks of corresponds only partially with the relationship that in linguistics or in semiotics is termed "denotation." Consequently, in one sense, the compliance-class of an inscription could be compared to the whole set of denotata of a sign vehicle. In another sense, however, Goodman considers compliance as a semantic relationship of wider scope. If, for example, we take Greek alphabetical notation as a valid base of a given notational scheme, we can immediately identify at least two compliance-classes. The first corresponds to the whole group of notations (in the linguistic sense) of a given inscription. In this case, therefore, compliance relates the inscriptions of a character (let us say, every 11
It is not possible, for the time being, to be more precise but - as will be seen in chapter 4. - the real problem is managing to distinguish the symbols of a notation from the symbols of which these are a notation. The letters of an alphabet, for example, are certainly instruments for the memorization of texts, but alphabets are not only aides-memoire. Regarding these aspects cf. Ong 1986 [1982]: 125-145. '2 "Character-indifference" affects the inscriptions considered in pairs. In this way a character can also be seen as an abstract class defining the relationship of character-indifference between pairs of inscriptions. This definition should also be taken into account in view of a nominalistic version of the notation theory, that is, a version that has no need of classes. Cf. LA : 131-132.
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inscription of the word ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ς ) to the class of elements where the character ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ς is applied correctly. This way of understanding compliance effectively corresponds to the way in which linguists understand the relationship of denotation. But Goodman also considers as compliance the relationship which links, for example, Greek alphabetical notation with specific sound phenomena. In this particular sense, an inscription (let us say, an inscription of the word ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ς ) will also have as compliants all the objects that can be considered as sound-events according to the usual practice of pronunciation of the character to which this inscription belongs. In our example, every inscription of ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ς will have as a compliant the whole class of phonations of άνθρωπος, obtained on the basis of accepted conventions. In like manner, in the case of musical notation, (every inscription of) a score will have as a compliant the whole class of the performances of that score." As distinct from linguists, Goodman considers compliance, also in this case, to be a relationship of a semantic type. Although a notation'4 can serve many purposes, its principal function is that of the definite identification of the occurrences which are replicas of a given type (or true copies of each other), distinguishing them from what they are not. This is particularly evident in music, where the function of the score is principally that of precisely identifying a class of performances of a work. But we could say the same in the case of a critical edition of texts in a natural language where the notation employed determines the correct spelling of a text. In such a way this allows, for example, philologists to differentiate manuscripts which contain a given text from those which contain any other text.15 Whilst the function of a notation can assume shades of meaning in the various languages, Goodman considers it to be a constant element from a logical point of view.
15
14
Some scholars (Levinson 1991:583) have raised the objection that the identification of a musical work with the class of its performances could present some problems. The first is how one should consider a work that has never been performed: in this case no class of performance is created, so its class of compliance is an empty set. The second is how one considers a work that is repeatedly performed over time: this work is in continual expansion and thus cannot be identified with an arbitrarily fixed number of performances. In addition, it would be difficult to explain the meaning of having an aural experience of an entity as a class. There are various ways of responding to these objections at various levels of argumentation. In the present work I shall confine myself to emphasizing that the criticisms are not so much concerned with the identification "work = class of performances" as with the notion of class, which has often been criticized by Goodman himself. Indeed, the whole line of argumentation in LA could be rewritten without the use of classes. Furthermore, Levinson omits to consider that the class Goodman is thinking of is not the undifferentiated set of all the effective performances of a work but the lawlike set made up of all the performances that conform to the score of the work. Thus, there is no apparent requirement for lawlikeness to be linked to the number of performances whether it tends towards zero or towards infinity.
In accordance with the current trend, Goodman uses the word "notation" as an abbreviation sometimes instead of "notational scheme" and sometimes instead of "notational system." We should remember, however, that the expressions "notational scheme" and "notational system" arc not - as Goodman himself warns - synonymous expressions (Cf. LA : 130-131). 15 For a systematic consideration of these aspects refer to La Matina 1994a, esp. p. 19 and note and pp. 43-48.
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of a Notation and Levels of
Projedibility
It is now clear in what sense there exists a link between the problems o f projecting - dealt with in chapters 1 . - 3 . - and the "comparative" study o f languages which w e are considering now. In the words of Goodman himself: To learn and use any language is to resolve problems of projection. On the basis of sample inscriptions of a character we must decide whether other marks, as they appear, belong to that character; and on the base of sample compliants of a character, we must decide whether other objects comply. Notational and discursive languages are alike in this respect. (LA: 201) The study of languages (or symbolic systems) in the context of the theory o f notation therefore necessitates a dual level o f projection decision: the first, to establish which marks belong to which characters; the second, to decide which objects belong to which classes o f compliance. A s a symbolic system is considered to be notational, Goodman considers it essential to satisfy the five following requirements: (1) Syntactic disjointness. This requirement prescribes that no mark can be shared by two or more characters. The disjointness of characters guarantees, in other words, that all marks which count as inscriptions of a given character are non-replaceable by the inscriptions of any other character. If this were to happen, the necessary condition for the syntax of a notation (cf. 2.2, note # 12) or the equivalence of all the inscriptions of the same class would be compromised (which are, as we said before, character-indifferent). (2) Finite syntactical differentiation. This requirement prescribes that the traits which are significant for the differentiation of characters are precisely determinable, or that different characters are composite. In other words, a notational scheme must not possess a pair of characters such that, given an inscription which in reality does not belong to either, it is not possible to decide theoretically that this inscription belongs to neither the first nor the second character. If this were to happen the disjointness of characters would be compromised. (3) Invariance (or non-ambiguity). This requirement prescribes that the relationship of compliance is maintained as invariable. Ambiguous inscriptions and/or characters can, in fact, cause uncertainty regarding the determination of what is compliant with them. Every oscillation of compliance can compromise the preservation of the identity of a character. (Goodman classifies non-ambiguity among semantic requirements. However, compliance - as he himself defines it is a relational property, this requirement could be considered as a general aspect of notational systems.) (4) Semantic disjointness. This requirement prescribes that within the system there is no copy of characters having a common compliant. This requirement is parallel to no. (1): whilst in that case the (syntactic) identity of character was being preserved by means of disjointness, in this case the (semantic) identity of the classes of compliants is preserved. (5) Finite semantic differentiation. This requirement prescribes that the significant differences between the compliance-classes of two characters are, within the system, composed in a finite way. This means that the system must not possess a pair of characters such that, given an object that is not in reality compliant with either, it is not possible to decide theoretically that that object is neither compliant with the first nor the second character. This requirement is parallel to no. (2). Goodman considers these five requirements as purely theoretical postulations which have nothing to do with the practical aims that a given notation can assume in the course of its history. Rather, they set out - it is worth repeating - to assure criteria for facilitating a decision in all ambiguous cases. And they do this by establishing in a general way those rules which w e must obey if w e decided to construct a language, or if w e decided to use or to re-construct a language.
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The five requirements make up a sort of logical basis which is capable of regulating the choices of the constructor (or of the user) of a system. These choices are essentially choices of projection: on the one hand those which lead from the inscriptions to the corresponding characters, and on the other those which lead from the inscriptions of a character to the compliants of those inscriptions: A system is notational, then, if and only if all objects complying with inscriptions of a given character belong to the same compliance class and we can, theoretically, determine that each mark belongs to, and each object complies with inscriptions of, at most one particular character. (LA: 156)
Let us remember, however, that projecting choices are a factual issue. Although it is automatic, a projection is still an inductive inference and the conclusions drawn from it will be probable. The criteria that justify a projection can thus be sought in the diverse "experience" of the constructor and/or the user of a system. Goodman has often remarked on the fact that, in order to decide which projection should be made, the constructor and/or user of systems cannot make use of the similarity of the data in his possession (cf. Fig. 2). He argued that mere similarity of data cannot be considered as a sufficient criterion nor even necessary for the identification of the characters of a notation.16 In fact, "development of a notational scheme or system does not depend upon an intrinsic segregation of marks or objects into disjoint and differentiated sets, but is often achieved in the face of virtual continuity in both realms" (LA: 180). The conventional, and sometimes constructed, make-up inherent in every notational formulation is thus clearly evident. However, it is just as evident that some projections prove to be easier than others and that some languages are better disposed to be organised in their notation than others. In some systems, for example, syntactical projections are often mutually subjective to a greater extent than semantic projections. In general, in the case of artificial languages, projection decisions are quite straightforward since it is the constructor of the system himself that determines which objects should be considered as inscriptions of which characters and which objects should be considered as compliants of which inscriptions. A different case is that of symbolic systems that are commonly used, as, for example, natural languages, dance or music. An interpreter of a system which has been established by tradition and habit should thus take account of what can be lost in the transition from the pre-systematic continuity to the separateness introduced by the system. This is so especially when one is dealing with notational conventions and with "distant" systems in space and time (this is the case, for example, for those who study ancient texts or the music of a people with a primarily oral tradition, etc.). We also need to consider that, for as long as we deal with atomic characters, such as letters of the alphabet or musical notation, there is a good possibility that our projections are shared by other users or interpreters on the basis of an intersubjective knowledge. When, however, we start to deal with compound and/or progressively more complex characters - such as a text in its entirety or a musical work in its entirety - then this intersubjective knowledge, which is prevalently syntactic and systemic, is no longer sufficient. A musical score, a poem or a theati« For a detailed discussion on this point see La Matina 1994a: 122-124.
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rical script are compound characters of a certain notation. However, in order to say which notation (or notations) we refer to, it is not sufficient to observe the combinatorial base of the atomic characters which constitute the musical score, poem or theatrical script in question. 2.4
Languages from the Point of View of Notation Theory
In theoretical terms a notation serves to introduce certain criteria of decidibility into the study of symbolic systems. A system of symbols can be called notational if, and only if, its symbols satisfy (in part or in toto) the essential requirements of a notation. As a result of this decision, some symbolic systems can be seen to be completely notational if they satisfy all the requisites laid down for a notational system; others may turn out to be partially notational systems, and still others in no way notational. The advantage that a recognition of type offers to the philosopher of languages is thus evident. Let us now look at how the various languages behave in relation to notationality. In this work it is better that we limit ourselves to systems such as music, painting and literature. Music is certainly the language which is closest to the idea of notation. Goodman considers a musical score as "a character of a notational system." A score in the conventional sense generally satisfies the syntactic requisites of disjointness and finite differentiation of characters: no inscription of a note can belong to two characters and it is always possible to identify ambiguous cases. The score also respects semantic requirements, even though, in the normal procedure of performance, the phenomenon of enharmonics is present which can create ambiguity regarding which sounds are congruent with which characters. For example, a C sharp and a D flat, are inscriptions of disjoint characters, but it sometimes happens that in performances for piano both have the same sound-class as compliants, whilst in performances for violin the compliance-classes can be disjoint. This depends on the fact that the way of dividing the sounds by an octave is different for the two instruments (a well-trained ear can realise this). Also another phenomenon, regarding the duration of sounds, would seem to violate the requisite of finite semantic differentiation. Indeed, as can be seen in Figure 3, the extent to which the note lengths are divisible can be considered as potentially infinite - or, at least, not clearly determinable:
\i
η ρη jfn mim Figure 3
η m
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In fact, both in the case of enharmonics and in the case of note length, it is normally possible to regulate the inteipretation and the normal performance procedure. In musical notation, however, there are some cases that violate, at least partially, the essential requirements. One is the use of the so-called "Basso numerate,"17 which was quite common in musical scores during the Baroque period; the other is the use of expressions taken from verbal language to indicate dynamic {piano, forte, fortissimo, etc.) and agogic values (adagio, allegro, presto, etc.) in a score. In the first case the numbers allow different interpretations by the performer; in the second case, the predicates used belong to a language that is not finitely differentiated in a semantic sense. Thus, in such circumstances, the score does not fulfil its essential function, which is to determine the performances that are compliant with it. The preservation of a work from one performance to the next can thus not be assured. Unlike the case of music, no theoretically significant system has been established in painting. A painting - or, generally speaking, a pictorial text - cannot be notationally identified in the same way as performances of a piece of music are determined by their score and by the system within which the score is written. It is impossible to identify confidently the characters and to attribute them to compliants in a consistent way. This does not mean that paintings are incapable of being analysed but only that the great majority escapes notational classification.18 Of course, we can identify a work simply by using external criteria, such as the date of production, name of the author or references to materials used. The result, in this case, is a system of classification which is capable of providing real definitions of paintings relating to their material history. But such a system has no value if it does not possess some notational characteristic. The problem in this case, therefore, is that of defining a painting by means of nominal criteria which (a) are independent of the material history of the painting and (b) are not entirely arbitrary. If music is an entirely notational system and painting, on the contrary, is a "system" which is almost entirely non-notational, literature represents a middle course between the two. A literary text - whether it be a poem, a novel or a text of documentary interest - is a character in a notational system. As such it has two domains of compliants. Let us suppose that we are dealing with a text in modern English. The compliants of the text are: (a) verbal emission in the domain that Goodman calls sound -English·, and (b) objects (oxstates of affairs) in the domain that Goodman calls object -English. A literary text does not exclusively determine classes of compliance in the same way as a musical score. Given the text of a poem and a notational scheme, one can establish the spelling of the text with an approximate correctness that varies from language to language. But it is not possible to determine 17
This is a notation used to signal, in an abbreviated way, the harmonic base of a composition. The system consisted of indicating only the basic note of the bass over which numbers were written designating the other notes which were necessary to complete the harmonic structure of the chord. 18 It is possible, however, to think that a single painting cannot be analysed, whilst a homogeneous corpus, in certain respects, can be. For an example of analyses of pictorial texts in the context of notationality see La Matina 1994c.
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exclusively which are the classes of compliance belonging to poetry in the domain of object -English. For this reason Goodman attributes literary texts to the so-called discursive languages. One controversial point is the relationship that a literary text (meant as a character) has with the class of certain phonetic emissions which are compliant with it. As for music, we know that Goodman considers the relationship between musical score and performance as the means whereby the ontology of a work can be determined: a musical work is equivalent to the class of compliant performances (even considering the difficulties highlighted in note 16). Can we say the same for literature? Goodman maintains that we cannot. A literary work is not the class of all the manuscripts or of the printed copies that contain it; nor does it correspond with the set of its acoustic performances. Ontologically, the work can be defined on the basis of the so-called sameness of spelling: To verify the spelling or to spell correctly is all that is required to identify an instance of the work or to produce a new instance. In effect, the fact that a literary work is in a definite notation, consisting of certain signs or characters that are to be combined by concatenation, provides the means for distinguishing the properties constitutive of the work from all contingent properties that is, for fixing the required features and the limits of permissible variation in each. (LA: 116)
The dominant criterion is, therefore, notational equivalence, and Goodman appears to consider spelling as sufficient means to identify it. This is certainly true. But not so clearly as Goodman seems to think. This is above all because two millennia of philology have demonstrated that individuating a text by spelling is not, in practice, as simple as theoreticians claim it to be. It is not, however, the practical difficulty that we wish to emphasise here but the theoretical difficulty. Spelling also means making projections. And, as we saw in chapters 1.-3., the choice of projectible predicates cannot only be made on the basis of syntactic criteria. "Green" and "grue" are syntactically equivalent within the context of confirmation, but one provokes a regularity that the other does not suggest. In the case of the discursive languages, the problem of projecting consists of the choice of the salient categories. How can we say that a given configuration of inscriptions is a character, and that that character is a text? And what assures us that the projections made for atomic characters are also valid for compound characters such as texts? We will revisit this issue in the conclusive section of this work. 2.5
The Statute of the Work
In concluding this part I would like to touch briefly on the problem of the authenticity of a work. Up to now we have spoken of notations as systems for confidently identifying specific works. But Goodman also asks what happens when more than one instance of a work (pictorial, musical, literary) is produced. In fact, each of the languages examined above behaves in a different way. For example, every faithful musical performance of a score is an authentic execution of that score. On the contrary, every copy of a painting, albeit faithful, is an imitation of that painting. In one case the reproduction is a genuine instance of the work, whilst in the other case it is a fake. What does this difference depend on? Goodman considers it important to note the way in which the constituent properties of a work are laid down in each language. He maintains that the distinction
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between constituent property and accessory or contingent property can only be drawn in the case of those languages that allow themselves to be classified, even partially, within a notation. Essentially, it is the notation that lays down both the characteristics that count as constituent elements of the work (and any reproductions thereof), and the margins of variation that are admissible without the instance of the work ceasing to be a genuine instance of that work. This formulation brings Goodman to apply a substantial discrimination between autographic arts and allographic arts: "A work of art is autographic if and only if the distinction between fake and original is significant," or "if and only if even the most exact duplication is not hereby considered as genuine." Conversely, every work which belongs to a language where the distinction between fake and original is not considered significant, is allographic. Painting can be considered an example of autographic art, whilst music and literature are examples of allographic art. The fact is that - as recalled above - in the case of painting, the properties which serve to identify the work are linked to the history of its material production. On the other hand, in the case of music or literature the constituent properties are independent of the information about how a given work has been produced." Thus, the place that the text (literary, pictorial, musical, etc.) occupies in the language it belongs to differs depending on whether the language is a notational system or not. In the case of painting, the text is an unrepeatable object, an execution which is not an inscription of any previously given character. In music, the text consists of the class of all those performances that are deemed to be compliant with a given character (= a given musical score). In literature, a given compound character is a text (= a given set of atomic characters), in such a way as to be constant on the basis of a spelling trial and capable of being preserved, on the same basis, from one instance to the next. Up to now we have concentrated on the classification that the criteria of notationality place on some of the symbolic systems. We have observed from within, so to speak, the structure of these languages, locating the place occupied by the "text" (whether it be verbal, pictorial, musical, etc.) within each language. What we now wish to look at is the way in which a symbolic object - a painting, a novel, a piece of music, etc. - can be used to construct the world (a plurality of worlds).
3.
Worlds
3.1
A World of Symbols
One of Goodman's essays written before the "linguistic turn" already contained his constructional project: "What we often mistake for the actual world is one particu19
This point is in no way obvious. Following Goodman's reasoning, we should say that every performance of a musical work is a real instance of every other performance of the same piece, whoever the performer. In some cases this is patently contradictory. In sung music there exists a work which Roland Barthes entitled le grain de la voix. This also seems to comprise, within the complete set of constituent properties of a work, the phonation of a given performer. The difference between the voice of the French chansonnier Panzera and that of the lyric tenor Fischer-Dieskau, however, is not - as Roland Barthes (1982) stated - a simple matter of timbre.
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lar description of it. And what we mistake for possible worlds are just equally true descriptions in other terms" (FFF: 57). But the plan is better defined in a recent book entitled Ways ofWorldmaking. In the preface the Harvard philosopher notes: Few familiar philosophical labels fit comfortably a book that is at odds with rationalism and empiricism alike, with materialism and idealism and dualism, with essentialism and existentialism [...]. Nevertheless, I think of this book as belonging in that mainstream of modern philosophy that began when Kant exchanged the structure of the world for the structure of the mind, continued when C.I. Lewis exchanged the structure of the mind for the structure of concepts, and that now proceeds to exchange the structure of concepts for the structure of the several symbol systems of the sciences, philosophy, the arts, perception, and everyday discourse. The movement is from unique truth and a world fixed and found to a diversity of right and even conflicting versions or worlds in the making. (WW: X)
There no longer exist, therefore, a given world, a given mind, nor given conceptual categories. The characteristics that we habitually attribute to the world (or to the mind, or to concepts) should be attributed, instead, to the symbolic systems which are responsible for the descriptions of the world. Each version can be considered to be true within an appropriate symbolic system. Goodman considers foundationalist attitudes as a disrupting influence on the construction of a philosophy of languages. But what is left of the world after the interest of the constructor of systems has been so drastically directed towards languages and notations? Is there still a truth or a neutral point of view about the world? And if there is not, what do we mean when we say that a painting represents someone, or that a text describes something? The third part of this work is dedicated briefly to these questions. 3.2
Constructional Systems
The assumption of Goodman's relativism is that the world - or what most of us consider as "the world" - is the result of a series of constructional operations of a symbolic type. And as there exists more than one symbolic system, there must also exist more than one world, or, better, more than one version of the world. Symbolic systems are thus constructional systems (or elements of systems). A constructional system20 consists of an unspecified number of definitions, each consisting of a part termed "Definiendum" and of a part termed "Definiens." The equals sign placed between these [" = "] is a logical operator which establishes a type of relationship between the two contexts. In general, a constructional system serves to "rewrite" systematically a given context of experience, of which one has either implicit or non-systematic knowledge. Definientia are propositions that the constructional system ascribes to the presystematic context. These are precise translations of those propositions in which a certain domain of experience is expressed. Goodman rejects both the intensional and extensional correspondences between Definienda and Definientia as criteria for evaluating the accuracy of definitions.21 20 21
On these aspects cf. SA, esp. ch. 2 and 3. On the possibility of using constructional principles in the development of a theory of language see La Matina 1994a: 103-109. With "intension" (for example, of a term) we refer to the set of properties that determine the applicability of the term; the "extension" of that term, however, is the class of individuals to which the term can be correctly applied. The two labels are sometimes made equal to "sense" (in the Fregean sense) and to "denotation."
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Intensional, because, in clear contrast with the general principles set out sub 1.1, it requires that "meanings" are postulated by the same standard as definable and identifiable entities. Extensional, because, it proves to be an over-rigid criterion; in fact there are cases when Definientia which are not co-extensive among themselves can be successfully replaced. The criterion adopted by Goodman is that of extensional isomorphism, which consists of the preservation of structure between the entire set of Definientia and the entire set of Definienda. As a consequence of the application of this criterion the extensional identity between the context of Definiendum and that of Definiens is no longer required as a guarantee of defmitional accuracy: "a given term may alternatively be defined by any of several others that are not extensionally identical with one another" (SA: 17). Alternative systems can thus be admitted as long as the constructor of systems ceases to claim the metaphysical priority of one system over the others. In the first place he must abandon the belief that it is possible to reach, in some way, an original order of the world, to a primigenial state which is completely independent of man's symbolic activities. Then he must give up the contention that there is an exact interpretation of the world and that there are symbols which are used to describe it. For Goodman a symbolic system is a strategy which produces the world and not a procedure that simply reproduces it. The problem of the truth of a world is thus superimposed over the problem of the correctness of a version-of-the-world: Willingness to accept countless alternative true or right world-versions does not mean that everything goes [...], but only that truth must be otherwise conceived than as correspondence with a ready-made world.Though we make worlds by making versions, we no [...] make a world by putting symbols together at random. [...] The multiple worlds I countenance are just the actual world made by and answering to true or right versions. (WW: 94)
3.3
WaysofWorldmaking
Goodman describes constructional systems as different ways of making worlds. Not all these ways exist in the same manner, or in the same fragment of space and time, nor can all of them equally claim the same credibility. We can add: as the world is relative to a way of building, so worldmaking seems to be relative to a world. In other words, if on the one hand it is true that the world is not an ingenuous fact, but depends on some symbolic system, on the other hand it is true that the building of worlds does not begin from nothing. This means that worldmaking does not have to be a pure logical combinatorial action but it is a process from which it is impossible to eliminate a certain historico-anthropological residue, in such a way that no world comes from nothing, but each one is built from other worlds. Once this has been admitted, worldmaking comes to resemble a network in which the symbols of a system are constantly translated into the symbols of other systems, on the basis of communicative necessities. Away of building worlds is therefore, essentially, a way of comparing and differentiating worlds. The tools used in worldmaking are principally tools for derivation which obtain something (for example, new entities or new properties) or which give emphasis to something, starting from a certain number of elements. The world from which the tools for the construction of another world are derived we shall call ancestor. I
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shall quote here only a few ways of building worlds in no particular order.22 One of the first ways consists of assigning an order, like when we give form to phonetic space through the application of finitely differentiated symbols such as musical notes. Two other ways that work in complement to each other, are supplementation and deletion. Evident cases of integration are the inferences and conclusions obtained deductively or inductively; cases of suppression can be seen every time we assign a summary to a text, or, while reading, we leave aside those events that we consider unimportant to the plot. Through composition and decomposition also often combined - we obtain worlds that differ from their ancestors above all as regards categorial structure. A typical case is provided by figures of speech like synaesthesis through which we associate predicates belonging to different sensorial realms: such as when we say that a sound "is piercing" or a voice "is warm." Composition/decomposition is important above all for its ontological implications. Different entities in a given world can be the same entity in another world and vice versa. Sameness - or rather, the imputation of sameness - depends on the choice of a type of classification. And, as we saw sub 1.5 as regards the predicates "green" and "grue," the way in which we choose the significant predicates affects the creation of expectations concerning the regularity, or not, of certain occurrences. Finally, we can build new worlds even without ordering, adding or eliminating elements of the ancestral world, but simply by attributing greater or lesser importance to some of these elements. Emphasis is used as a way of worldmaking in many symbolic systems, from painting to literature, and from acting to music. Emphasis is not concerned with the number or category of the entities of a system but regards their accentuation (the way in which they are stressed). Goodman devotes a great deal of space to the phenomena of underlining, which he explains within the context of his theory of projection (cf. supra, 1.3-1.5). Returning to the curious predicate "grue" we can consider as "prosodical" the difference between a world where we habitually project "green" and one in which we project "grue." Both the "projected" worlds contain the same attestation classes and both projections are syntactically defensible. But, as we have seen, the entrenchment of predicates plays a crucial role in what we could call the "rhythmic organisation" of the world.21 3.4
Literal Worlds and Non-literal Worlds
Very often it happens that one version of the world is judged to be more correct and therefore truer - than another just because its predicates are better entrenched.
22
A list of the main ways - with examples taken from various contexts - can be found in WW: 7 17. " The " m o t i f ' of the presence, in the human world, of a rhythmic organisation is suggested by a verse by the Greek poet Archilochus who lived in the 7th century BC. In the fragment 67a Diehl, Archilochus observes how the fate of men is subject to the inevitable alternation of good and bad, of joy and mourning. This alternation - we add - prevents projections from being made. The poet, therefore, invites his own θ υ μ ό ς , his own "heart" to be attentive, taking account of the "rhythm" to which men are subject: γ ί γ ν ω σ κ ε δ ' ο ί ο ς ρ υ σ μ ό ς α ν θ ρ ώ π ο υ ς έχει, "recognise what rhythm possesses men."
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A world of "green" emeralds is more easily predictable than a world of "grue" emeralds. But this does not mean that the projection of "green" is always more correct than the projection of "grue." There are cases when something that is not true in a literal way can be true in a non-literal way. Entrenchment is, therefore, also connected with the distinction between literal versions and non-literal versions of the world. As an example of the former Goodman considers most of the verbal descriptions where denotational symbols are used. Among non-literal versions he quotes all fictitious versions such as poetry, music, dance and the arts in general. These are in fact characterised by the use of nonliteral devices such as metaphor, by non-denotational methods like exemplification and expression, in addition to the use of non-verbal symbols. In this way, the difference between science and art is not a difference between real and fictitious knowledge, but between two methods of discovery that have a different orientation. Let us take the case of images. A painting - a pictorial text - may have denotations which are single, multiple or void, in the same way as verbal descriptions. In the first instance the denotation is applied to what it portrays, in the same way as a singular term is applied to its Denotatum, whilst in the second instance it is applied as a general term to the entire set of its Denotata. In the third instance neither the pictorial portrayal nor the verbal description are applied to anything which exists. However, even the representations and descriptions of this last case have an ontological import (in Goodman's language: a worldmaking role). But how should we deal with symbolic objects such as, for example, a portrait of Hercule Poirot or a verbal description of brother William of Baskerville? And what about an entire narrative work like Don Quixote? Goodman's answer is to be found on the line between literal truth and metaphorical truth. It is true that a description of "Hercule Poirot" does not denote any individual in a literal sense. In a figurative sense, however, it could be appropriate for many individuals. Translating into quasi-logical terms, one could say that the expression "the χ such that χ is equal to Hercule Poirot" has no denotations, whilst the expression "the χ such that χ is similar to Hercule Poirot" can assume many denotations. In essence, it is possible to apply a fictitious verbal label to real persons when they are considered as a type of secondary extension of the term itself. In this way, fictional expressions, metaphors and expressions which in some way lack an extension in the literal sense would have something as a referent in the "real" world. There remain, however, some symbols which do not appear even to have a denotation in a metaphorical sense, like, for example, abstract paintings, non-descriptive musical works, etc. Goodman maintains that even in these cases one can trace some form of reference. In particular, if taken literally, symbols of this type exemplify some of the verbal labels that are applied to these symbols, whilst if they are taken metaphorically, they express them. In other words, they operate as instances, or samples, capable of establishing a dual sense denotation, so to speak: in the first sense, the symbol-sample exemplifies (and/or expresses) the symbol-label (or the symbols that are isomorphic with it) and in the second sense the exemplified label refers to its sample (to its instance) in the same way as a predicate is applied to its Denotatum.
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The denotational capacity inherent in the exemplification and in the expression does not only regard those symbols that lack a denotation in the traditional sense. Also literal and denotational symbols such as words exemplify and/or express something. In Nelson Goodman's constructional semantics this type of symbol reference is far more important than mere denotation: What a portrait or a novel exemplifies or expresses often reorganizes a world more drastically than does what the work literally or figuratively says or depicts; and sometimes the subject serves merely as a vehicle for what is exemplified or expressed. (WW: 106)
Science and art are, at this point, precisely on the same level in terms of constructional potentiality. One could even be tempted to think that the denotational resources of art are far greater than those of science. However, this impression is as mistaken as its opposite. Both, Goodman maintains, are based on the presupposition that what is scientific is banally linguistic, literal and denotational, and what is poetic, on the contrary, is not. This is a presupposition which proves to be false if we take account of scientific procedures such as: "the analog instruments often used, the metaphor involved in measurement when a numerical scheme is applied in a new realm" (WW: 107); or if we recall the various metaphors where some otherwise inexpressible result is produced. The demarcation line between literal worlds and metaphorical worlds does not serve to differentiate scientific versions from poetic ones. What could be different is the product of these methods: science strives to produce literal theories, whilst art is under no obligation to do so. 3.5
What Is There beyond Symbols?
In summary, Goodman identifies three ways in which a symbol can be referred to something: (1) denotation, (2) exemplification and (3) expression. In denotation, the symbol makes a reference in the same way as a predicate which is applied literally sometimes to one object and sometimes to many - or in the same way as a predicate that, not being applied literally to any object, can, however, be applied metaphorically to more than one object. In exemplification and in expression the relationship between the symbol and what it is applied to moves in the opposite direction to denotation. A symbol which exemplifies (or which expresses) operates like an instance of what can be applied to it (literally in exemplification, metaphorically in expression). Exemplification, whether literal or metaphorical, thus implies the converse of denotation, but with an "additional obligation." Exemplification, therefore, must be bi-directional: for a word, say, to denote red things requires nothing more than letting it refer to them; but for my green sweater to exemplify a predicate, letting the sweater refer to that predicate is not enough. The sweater must also be denoted by that predicate; that is, I must also let the predicate refer to the sweater. (LA: 59)
Exemplification is, therefore, a highly particular form of reference. By virtue of this, a work of art remains as a symbol even when it lacks a represented, portrayed or expressed object. This shift leads us to one further question, which, here, it is sufficient only to touch on. Symbols, whether they represent something or not, should be considered
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as samples. No sample can exemplify all its properties. The type of property of which something is a sample varies from one context to the next. If this is so, how can we establish the properties that a symbol offers as an instance or the properties that it expresses in a given context? Does it regard the properties that a symbol possesses? And can the intrinsic properties of a symbol (like, for example, the colour of a painting) be distinguished from its extrinsic properties (like, for example, the subject portrayed)? Goodman does not believe that a clear demarcation is possible. In fact, the properties we can call intrinsic, like shape or colour, can be found in other objects, and are thus external properties of the given work, whilst the properties of the Denotatum of a symbol do not appear to have an existence which is independent of the symbol within which they are confined. Goodman reasonably observes: After all, what a text says or expresses is a property of the text, not of something else; and on the other hand, properties possessed by the text are different from and are not inclosed within it, but relate it to other texts sharing these properties. (WW: 30).
The result seems highly awkward. We could be tempted to formulate it by saying that: (a) what, in common parlance, relates a symbol to a field of reference is not a relational property, but must belong in some way to the symbol itself. Or, in essential terms, semantics must be inherent to the system in which a given work is produced; (b) what, in the common view, relates a symbol to itself cannot be considered as a property which is internal to the symbol, but must be considered as a relational property. Or, in essential terms, syntax must be relational. In conclusion, Goodman believes that we need to think again about the relationship between symbols and their exterior by renouncing the dichotomy "form vs. content" in order to develop farther our thinking on forms of bi-directional reference such as exemplification and expression. 4.
Transit
4.1
Main Points
Up to now I have dealt with three core topics related to Goodman's thinking in order to bring to light the bond existing between them which is not always evident and illustrate the place they occupy within a research project about media. I believe that such themes are relevant, not only from the point of view of the philosophy of language, but also from the point of view of the various disciplines which deal, in different ways, with symbolic languages and texts. More specifically, I think that the right approach to the questions of projection and notationality could be helpful for the sciences which deal with ancient literary, juridical and religious texts from an exclusively historical and, in some cases, also exegetic standpoint. In the fourth part of this work I intend to recall briefly the main points, highlighting some of the issues left open by Goodman's research. Goodman's greatest merit was to have connected his observations on symbolic systems to the problems of induction. In this way he demonstrated that the crucial question consists of explaining the choices of projection which confront every maker, user or interpreter of a language. It should be clear by now that, according to Good-
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man, projecting is the same as making a notation or worldmaking. With such an approach Goodman manages to extend the limits of semantics within which he also includes the treatment of relations such as exemplification and expression, considered as forms of two-way reference. 4.2
Entrenchment
The notion of entrenchment plays a leading role within the process of projection but it also creates a problem. As we saw in subsection 1.5, Goodman considers entrenchment as the result of the projection of a given predicate, adding that it is not only the single predicate but also the whole class of its compliants which becomes entrenched. Therefore it is the fixing of a domain of extensions that influences entrenchment. In this context one could legitimately ask oneself how and by whom such an extension is established. Goodman only answers the first question, maintaining that: "a class becomes entrenched only by means of the predicates which determine it; entrenchment, therefore, derives from the use of language" (FFF: 110). In practice, this means that when a predicate is projected, its degree of entrenchment increases. But this increase can be perceived in all co-extensive predicates. Nevertheless, before defining some predicates as co-extensive, we should consider their real projection. It is through the real use of predicates that it is possible to determine which of them are co-extensive and to strengthen, by each projection, the entrenchment of the whole class. Therefore, "entrenchment" means the projection from a compliance-class to the complete set of predicates which has that class as a compliant. This class, however, can only be defined as the class that exactly complies with those predicates of which it is the compliance-class. This "virtuous" circularity should be restrained rather than eliminated. Connected with this is the question concerning the statute of inscriptions and phonations in a verbal language. On the one hand Goodman considers inscriptions and phonations as being akin to each other. On the other hand, however, the phonations of, let us say, an English word are also the compliants of the inscription of that word in spoken English. This creates the problem of differentiating, where necessary, the compliance classes from inscription classes. Other problems, upon which I should not dwell further, derive from the adoption of the compositional principle as a constructional method or from the ambiguity of the term "predicate" for example in LA. 4.3
Autographic vs. Allographic
Another crucial point is the distinction between autographic and allographic arts. This can prove of particular use in a textual context in order to explain, for example, the work carried out on texts by philologists.24 One could legitimately say that the manuscripts of a work are texts in an autographic sense, as they are not, for the philologist, independent of the real history of their production. Conversely, one 24
As to the treatment of these aspects in the field of an integrated textological theory, allow me to refer to La Matina 1994a, esp. Chapter V, dedicated to the so called Editor Theory.
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could say that what they contain in common is text in an allographic sense, as the text "exists" in a form that is independent of the history of the real production of the manuscripts. However, in order to apply the distinction between an autographic and allographic text one needs to take into account the procedures whereby some elements of an autographic text are thought of as being important for the creation of an allographic text (which, in Goodman's sense, is equivalent to the class of abstraction of the indifference-of-character relation existing between manuscripts). In the case of literary texts, textual philology has the role of making projections from single inscriptions (= manuscript texts) to characters (= classes of manuscripts or recensions). At the same time, however, it has the task of establishing the margin of variability which is allowable between spelling systems which can show differently structured regularities along the space-time axis. Considering that an allographic text is created as a catalysis of a number of autographic texts, one needs to know and/or suppose the editing criteria of a character (be it atomic or compound). The question is: how can this be done with a given text? The copies we possess should allow us to reconstruct the system of spelling as a projection. On the other hand, however, it is in relation to a given spelling system that we can ascertain whether or not a copy of that text is correct. Here again, the reasoning is circular. The system is not univocally determined once certain copies have been given, nor can it be considered empirically adequate on the basis of the real comparability of the copies. For this to happen, it is necessary to know (or to be able to decide) that the copies in our possession are lawlike, in other words that they are capable of authorising projections. In practice, it may be the case that we have nothing but non-lawlike copies, and thus produce invalid projections similar to that of "grue." The adoption of a system, on the other hand, presupposes that such a system will optimise the agreement between the elements of data in our possession. But, since we cannot know in advance if the data belongs to one or more systems (and, in this case, to which of them), the presupposition of an agreement between elements of data is itself a postulation which is difficult to justify. This agreement does not belong to the system (or systems) to which the data refers: "coherence" - as Goodman points out - "is a characteristic of descriptions, not of the world."
4.4
The Primacy of Use
We have seen how, through the notions of entrenchment and projection, Goodman shifts attention from symbolic systems to their use. Entrenchment requires one not only to look at the data known to the analyst, but at all the previous choices made by other analysts. Projection rescues the language from the illusory domain of deduction, in order then to return it to the context of factual judgements. The primacy of use is equivalent to the primacy of text. A text exists in its use, and this use does not end in the mechanical application of a notational system. Use is better referred to as a moment in the history of those projections which are linked to a moment in the history of a notational system. As in the case of induction, likewise, the interpretation of a text cannot only be the result of the syntactic-semantic merging of certain minimal components.
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Beyond Goodman?
In conclusion, Goodman pointed a way, but there is still a lot of work to be done. One has only to think of the fact that he gave us a theory of notation but he did not develop its syntax exhaustively enough for any language. As a fiiture task in the field of text research I can imagine a classification of symbolic systems based on the level of difficulty of projection presented by each one. Each symbolic system (or groups of systems) would be assigned an index of projection difficulty. This would appear to be particularly relevant as regards the study of the texts of the historico-natural languages - which interest both Goodman and us more than all the others - where decisions concerning projection are often a great deal more problematic than elsewhere. One cannot ignore the fact that the texts relating to such languages (whether they be literary, juridical, religious, etc.) strongly draw their existence from use and that this use is historical. Defining the characters and compliants of a notation for one of these languages is a matter of fact. Thus, apart from the logical basis ensured by the requisites of the theory of notation, an extralogical apparatus would appear to be necessary which would be capable of evaluating not only the available data for projections, but also the projections made previously by the other users of the system of which the reconstruction is prearranged (and to the extent to which one wants to rebuild it). Essentially, what is necessary is a notion which resembles that of entrenchment, which can integrate the system and history. As regards my personal contribution, I believe that the Editor Theory23 could represent a possible meeting point between philosophicallyoriented textual research and historically-oriented textual research. 5.
The Study of Media within the Editor Theory
5.1
Preliminary Remarks
If we continue to consider Goodman's theory of symbolic systems, the problem is being able to account for the use and historical nature of media. Firstly, the study of media would need to be brought back, in an operational sense, to the study of languages, even without considering such a step as being an affirmative answer to questions (1) and (2) in the Forward. It would be sufficient to admit that a language is constituted as a collection of manifestations, or presentations, of certain symbols or sign indicators. It is important to realise that, intuitively, not even a recurrent presentation of such sign indicators determines a really complete collection of symbols, but always reproduces some part of them. This means that, considering the use of the symbols of a language by a given user (or group of users), it is always possible to envisage new presentations where symbols are either different or used differently (i.e., combined and/or interpreted). Symbols appear as such to a user who recognises them and "publishes" them, after having attributed some form of organisation to them. For the time being, I propose to use the term medium both for a possible collection of symbols and for the possible formal construction assigned by an Editor to those symbols to which he has access within the various contexts where he uses the collection. 25 For an explanation see La Matina 1994a.
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The Concept of Collection
When I use the word "collection" I am not referring to concepts like groupings, nor do I presuppose a certain completeness in the objects which go to make up a collection. Nor am I alluding to the necessity for collected things to be associable and numerable due to a certain universal property. What differentiates a collection from a grouping or from a class, or from a set or a family of elements is its being chronosensitive. On the contrary, sets, groupings, classes and families represent cases of construction which arise from a given arrangement: on some occasions the essential properties are given; on others, the genetic characteristics; on others, the individualising characters; and on yet others, the qualia. A collection comes into being over time. It can grow or diminish over time. What characterises it is its potential openness, and the collector's willingness to accept (or reject) new pieces. It can even consist of only one object, as any young shell-collector knows well. But, in its subsequent assemblies, every collection can rewrite its members. It can thus become a collection of something else. A projection judgement is therefore inherent in the assembly, like in Hume's induction rethought by Goodman. As we have seen in relation to blue/grue, there is substantially a time t,, when the collection assembles events of a certain type, of the blue-type, for instance. All the blue-events recognised as such, describe a range which will then be organised into blue objects and/or manifestations of objects by the ontology (as conceived by Quine) which has been chosen by the users of that collection. There is, however, a time t2 which in relation to t, is not yet given. This is the time of the projectibility of every other predicate that satisfies the blue-events. But this, as we saw in 1.5, can change the criterion of assembly. The projectibility of the predicates that will be satisfied by objects as they are collected is thus evident in the collection in the same way as chrono-sensitivity is evident. Essentially, a set of things is always time-free, whilst a collection is a time-bounded assembly. As such, to say that media - like language - are a collection, implies a process of evaluation and a wait.
5.3
The Editor as Interface
I would like to clarify that, from what has been said, nothing requires the existence of a unitary whole that we call language; nor are we obliged, in the study of collections, to use one of them as an exemplification of the essential features of language tout court. The responsibilities and the systematic choices - so to speak - weigh down on that entity which we have called Editor. An Editor intersects different contexts and can publish different collections. It (since it is not necessarily a person) is similar to a network, or a weave. The nodes of this network are the diagnostic positions where the medial events ascribed to a collection meet. How does an Editor work? Let us take the simplest case, that of a face-to-face conversation between us and an individual of our species: a speaker of English, for instance. In this case it is clear that we are exchanging the symbols produced in turn by both of us and that we do this in accordance with rules and expectations that we partially share.
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Quine taught us to read situations of this type as cases of homophonic translation. Although, in fact, the conversation takes place within the framework of the so-called domestic language, each speaker is doing no more than translating - often unconsciously - the symbols produced by his interlocutor into the symbols of his own language. In most cases, apart from being unconscious, the homophonic translation has no consequences since all it does is to cause the series of phonemes produced by the interlocutor to fall back upon itself. In other cases, our compensating intervention is required if the conversation is to succeed. Here, I would speak of heterophonic translation. This happens when, for example, we integrate the word that we have not managed to hear, or when we substitute a term used by the other person with one that we believe to be more appropriate, or when we assign reference indices thus interpreting the pronouns of the other person; or even when we attribute a different truth value to what our interlocutor is saying. In all these cases we are practising "everyday philology," behaving just like a philologist who is editing a text. Like him, we too are called upon to acquire other people's way of speaking (collatio), to compare it with our personal way of speaking or with some other language (recensio) to assess the differences (iudicium), sometimes introducing compensatory adjustments (emendatio) according to our own expectations. From my point of view, every semiotic relationship implies some form of editing. Therefore, the Editor operates as an interface between at least two collections of symbols exchanged during a communicative situation. Of course, it is quite easy to think of the function of Editor in verbal language, where, among other things, one can get the impression that the Editor corresponds to the person who, time and again, assumes the role of receiver. This conviction derives from the simplicity of our example, but in the theory we have in mind the function of Editor is to be capable of establishing relationships even between collections that are different from each other. In church music, for example, groups of Editors control the performances and the performance protocol to be observed within the specific productive context (= religious liturgy). Alternatively, we can see the Editor function as operating among ethnomusicologists, who go around collecting folk music in order to "fix" it into a score or to make a recording on the spot. In these cases the Editor mediates between different types of language, such as the language of folk music and that of written music, or that of song and that of prayer, as in the case of liturgists. As we shall see later, assigning a score (= element of a notational collection) to a musical performance (= element of a collection of acoustic events) is part of the editorial behaviour of an Editor. For now we have established, following our terminology, that an Editor can construct assemblies of symbols on the basis of his expectations and that he can find himself in a position between symbols belonging to different collections. 5.4
A Meaningful Fragment of Language
A meaningful fragment of language can, for us, be represented as a relational structure which exists between three collections. The first is the so-called object collection; the second is the collection which notationally fixes and classifies the first; and the third is a metacollection we adopt in order to talk about everything that a language is. We have called this fragment of language "meaningful" since it con-
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tains the essential diagnostic positions to transform something into a language. These positions do not necessarily only refer to verbal language, and this is why we consider our theory to be interesting when addressing the question of media. Let us look at this fragment shown in Figure 4:
Object Collection
[X")
Notational Collection
Metacollection
Figure 4
The figure shows the fragment of language as a network ofjoints. Each collection has three joints. All the joints can be linked by lines that represent the behaviour of the Editor (= E). The diagram can be read horizontally and, in this case, the fragment is made up of object collection (here indicated with the letter C), notational collection (indicated with the letter K, and metacollection (indicated with the letter H). It is important to point out that the roles of object-collection, notational-collection and metacollection can be played either by different collections or by partially intersecting collections or by one single collection. If we read the diagram vertically, the left-hand, central and right-hand positions represent the elements of a collection that carry out homologous functions. Let us look at the three symbols in the object collection, from which the others are deducible. «C» refers to an event of the object collection since it occurs in its genuine context. The symbol «C» refers to this event which contains both the language and the context in which the language is used. Let us imagine a coagulation of spacetime which helps to preserve, along with everything else, a tribal dance with music, for example. Here, «C» is the indicator of this coagulation that contains a linguistic event which has not yet been removed from its context of happening. When we try hard to eliminate from our ideal coagulation everything that for us is not music, and leaving everything that is, then we obtain a *C, which is thus an abstraction. In
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other words, *C is the music contained within event «C», if this can be thought of. I realise that it is not easy to talk in this way by means of abstraction. In the diagram all the symbols preceded by an asterisk represent abstractions of elements. Let us now turn to 'C'. This symbol also refers to an event that "contains" language, but the way it does this is different. 'C' is an event in which certain elements of the collection are mentioned, but not used. In this context I refer to "use" and "mention" partially in the sense considered by linguists; even if I consider expedient to make a distinction between at least two types of mention: pure mention, in which the use of a medial element is not involved; impure mention, in which the element mentioned seems to be also used.26 To give an example, a ' C ' is a copy or a reproduction of something. As such, it contains the thing that it represents. But it is not the thing in itself. Let us think of a copy of the letter a. This copy contains a, but any copy of a that we can imagine would still contain a, with more or less significant variants. A 'C' names a *C and is a copy of it. At the same time it is however close to being an exemplar of a «C»-event, deprived of the genuine context of its happening. «C»-events and 'C'-events thus represent the two ways in which any medial element can be contained, respectively, in its context of use and in its context of mention. 5.5
The Place of Media and the Medial Holism
Three positions can also be distinguished in notational collection. The first, on the left, is Γ κ Ί and corresponds to a given expression which is like the score of some given expression in the object collection. Therefore a Γ κ Ί , for an Editor, functions like a score of a 'C'-event or of a «C»-event (and thus above all of a *C). Various r 1 K -s can be compared and found idemsaying (by using this expression by Davidson) if they are found to conform with a certain *K - that is, if a given *K can be put forward as an expression which is common to all the compared rKn-s· In its turn *K - what permits two scores of a medium to be equal - will be an abstraction of all the expressions that refer to rrK1_1-s, that is to possible versions of «C»-events. Thus, to sum up, a Γ Κ Ί analyses (and fixes) a 'C'-event, suggesting - by virtue of its relationship with *K - some ΓΓ κ Ί1 analysis protocols, which are also possible versions of how «C»-events will be carried out in their genuine contexts. Let us try to exemplify what has been said so far, referring to events from a medial collection: music. Suppose that «C» is a tribal event or any other manifestation that, in an Editor's opinion, contains music in context. In this way, «C» does not exist alone, without reference to an Editor. A «C»-event can take place several times and, in many cases, can be recognised as the repetition of the same (type of) event. But we must also imagine the case of oral cultures, within which different kinds of «C» can be found, without them being considered as real copies of each other, or of one single type of event. This possibility is based on two considerations: (1) in order to recognise that different kinds of «C» are identical we need a logical apparatus that attributes identity, we have to be between cultures that, even to an implicit degree, have developed ontological options about the type of objects μ For an analysis of these mixed cases of mention and use, cf. the chap. "Quotation" in Davidson 1984.
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that exist in their sound universe; (2) a «C»-event is itself non-exportable and non replicable as its genuine musical part has not yet been separated from its genuine context. The musical content of a «C», that is its abstraction *C, is also contained in 'C'-events. So a 'C' is a musical performance that preserves the musical content *C that an Editor attributes to a «C» event. A musical performance 'C' is a mention of *C in the following case. If I am practising a Fugue by Bach, my behaviour can be described as that of an Editor who produces 'C'-events on the basis of ^""-scores. If, however, I am giving a public performance, within a frame that lays down certain irreversible protocol characters, then I am in the condition of a «C»-event. The discriminating feature that distinguishes container events of type ' C ' from those of type «C» is thus irreversibility, that can have different manifestations in various media. For example, a 'C'-Sonata can be interrupted, whilst a «C»-Sonata can only be interrupted with the serious embarrassment of the player, that of the Editor. In painting irreversibility coincides with the autographic nature of a painted work. In literature and in the languages that Goodman defines as discursive, irreversibility is similar to that of music. The characteristic feature of 'C'-events is "remeability" (from the Latin remeabilis), that is the possibility of stopping and going through an event again. For instance, it is in this remeability that we can find the origin of alphabetic writing that split sound events of type «C» and that made it possible to analyse and replicate them as 'C'-events (that is as copies, or mentions). This is why all written literature should be studied considering the remeability with which the written medium has endowed it. As is clear from what we have said so far, in music plan-C is made up of sound events of a certain type, whilst plan-K is mainly made up of objects that are scores or analyses or protocols that an Editor assigns to an event. The relation between the two plans is prevalently heteromaterial. In painting, however, we have some difficulty in constructing a plan-K, that is a notational collection. Plan-C of painting, as shown by Goodman, is in fact dense throughout. The possibility of assigning notations to symbols thus seems to be linked to the capacity of segmentation of those events that manifest a collection of symbols. This capacity of segmentation cannot be an intrinsic property of the events, but is attributed by the Editor on the basis of a protocol ΓΓΚ1Ί. which the analysis will attempt to bring to the fore.
6.
Concluding Remarks
In conclusion, by using the Editor theory, Nelson Goodman's statement, according to which the role of the work is different in different media, can thus be confirmed. The conclusion we have reached is the one foreseen and defined as medial holism in the introduction. All media can be treated as languages, but not every medium possesses all the features of language. We have suggested that music accentuates the notational and numerical aspect, that painting accentuates the autographic aspect and that handwriting accentuates the idiographic aspect. Every medium can present interrelations with any other medium causing a saturation of the positions on the diagram. Music, for example, is saturated by a notational system that trans-
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lates them; the same thing happened with oral cultures that came to know writing. In both cases, one type of collection replaces the elements of another collection, in view of the preservation and/or reproduction of the symbols themselves. In this way language as a whole is a collection of collections, that has within it different media, each one of which has a propensity to saturate some of the boxes in our scheme. There is no language whose structure is an exemplification of the features of the total language: every medium can exemplify some feature of another medium when it is translated into it. The type of relationship that media stipulate with other media depends on the historical variables of use, which become in themselves the object of investigation if one postulates that this use is the result of a series of acts of projection carried out afterwards by the users of the symbolic objects. Nelson Goodman taught us that the structure of a symbolic object is the result of a series of inductions. And as inductions range over concrete facts, the structure is in itself a product of history. The media are only the space-time coagulations of choices made by various Editors. It is the task of the historical investigation to specify the contours as they are gradually adopted by various Editors, by following their tracks deep into the most secret folds of texts. Translation by Paul Bawley. 7.
References
Barthes, Roland 1982 Carnap, Rudolf 1928 Davidson, Donald 1984 Goodman, Nelson 1968 Goodman, Nelson 1972 Goodman, Nelson 1973 [1954]
L'obvie et l'obtus. Essais critiques III. Paris: Seuil. Der Logische Aufbau der Welt. Hamburg: Meiner. Inquiries into Truth and Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Languages of Art. Indianapolis/New York: Bobbs-Menill = [LA ]. Problems & Projects. Indianapolis/New York: Bobbs-Merrill = [P&P ]. Fact, Fiction and Forecast. Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett. 3. edition = [FFF].
Goodman, Nelson 1977 [1951] The Structure of Appearance. Dordrecht: Reidel = Goodman, Nelson Ways ofWorldmaking. Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett = [WW], 1978 Hempel, C. G. 1943 "A Purely Syntactical Definition of Confirmation", Journal of Symbolic Logic, no viii, 122-143. Hempel, C. G. 1966 Philosophy of Natural Science. Englewood, Ν J: Prentice-Hall. Hume, David 1980 [1740] Abrijβ eines neuen Buches: Ein Traktat über die menschliche Natur, etc., Übersetzt und mit einer Einleitung herausgegeben von Jens Kulenkampff. Hamburg: Meiner. [Anastatic reproduction of the original edition, appeared in London without indication of author.]
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La Matina, Marcello 1994a II testo antico. Per una semiotica comefilologia integrata. Palermo: L'Epos. La Matina, Marcello 1994b "The Epitaphium Sicili as a Musico-Verbal Text. A Semiotic Approach to Ancient Poetry", in: Petöfi, Jänos S. & Olivi, Terry (eds.), Approaches to Poetry. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 94-151. La Matina, Marcello 1994c "La gratitudine come problema semiotico-filologico. Gli ex voto per san Nicola da Tolentino", in: Galli, G. (a cura di), Interpretazione e gratitudine. Atti del XIII Colloquio sull'interpretazione (Macerata, 29-31 marzo 1992). Genova: Marietti, 229-272. Levinson, Jerrold 1991 "Music", in: Burkhardt, Η. & Smith, Β. (eds.), Handbook of Metaphysics and Ontology. Münich/Philadelphia/Vienna: Philosophie Verlag, vol. II, 582-584. Ong, Walter 1982 Orality and Literacy. The Technologizing of the Word. London/New York: Methuen. Ong, Walter 1986 [ 1982] Oralitä e scrittura. Le tecnologie della parola. It. tr. by Alessandra Calanchi. Revision by Rosamaria Loretelli. Bologna: il Mulino. Quine, Willard Van Orman 1978 [1959] Methods of Logic. 4. edition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
PAOLO TEOBALDELLI
Aspects of Multimedial Communication 0.
Preface
The purpose of this article is first of all (in chapter 1.) to critically review the basic concepts and paradigms utilized both in communication theory and semiotics; and then (in chapter 2.) to make a modest contribution to the field by trying to resolve the contradictions and fill in the theoretical gaps that will emerge from this critical review. The critical analysis that I will develop here is based on a new theoretical perspective: semiotic textology. This new approach attempts to integrate in a more comprehensive theoretical framework the complexity of interdisciplinary research in the field of communications, and in this way to open up the study of multimediality. The subject of multimedia communication has caught the attention of every form of research that is in some way involved with communication. This stems from the fact that it is a brand new and innovative field, and also that it is related to all of the state of the art technological developments field of communications over the last 10-20 years (mass media, home computers, hypermedia, computer networks, virtual reality, interactive television, etc.). It is my opinion that such a theme represents a major turning point for semiotics and for all sciences dealing with communication, especially for what concerns their theories, models and methodologies. The complexity of the theme is in fact the result of the lack of a conceptual model which is able to assume a valid heuristic role in describing and categorizing the phenomenon of multimediality. This in turn is caused partly by the basic assumptions that have characterized the theoretical and methodological development of communication sciences, but it is also due to the fact that we have not solved fundamental problems: for example we speak of multimedia and at the same time we are not able to define exactly what a medium is. No specific approach in the sphere of multimediality (e.g., visual communication studies, analysis of cartoons, computer animation, theater semiotics, etc.) can neglect serious critical reflection on basic concepts of semiotics and communication theory; making an effort to understand and evaluate the essential assumptions of the models in use till now and their potential consequences in the context of an updated conceptual framework, which is (or should be) that of multimedial communication. This introductory analysis should lead to a theoretical effort to correct and/or to go beyond the theoretical contradictions and distortions of earlier work in the field. Such an effort is possible in terms of semiotic textology, which utilizes an integrative theoretical framework that explicitly considers communication to be a complex phenomenon (thus encompassing semiotics, psychology, social interaction,
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"texts," individual media, multimedia, etc.). I hope that all of the challenges and suggestions I present here will be taken as contributions to the consolidation and enlargement of this theoretical framework. 1.
Defining the Primary Concepts in the Semiotics of Multimedial Communication
1.1
Introduction
In the first part of this article I intend to critique the principal concepts and models of communication theory and semiotics from a point of view that I will call semioticmultimedial. The goal here is to determine the validity of the concepts and models used in theoretical research into multimedia communication. On the basis of this analysis then we can work out a usable definition for multimedia communication, and to build a theoretical frame in which it could be more exhaustively systematized. For this purpose it is useful to look back on the development of the principal paradigms and heuristic categories in the fields of both communication theory and general semiotics. 1.2
The Concept of "Communication "
I will first of all analyze the concept of communication, and the models of communicative processes derived from it. The goal here is to isolate the individual problems in each theoretical formulation and to find a solution for each by modifying or abandoning the formulation itself from which they come. This does not mean giving an exact formulation, but rather trying to move beyond formulations that appear to be unsustainable. 1.2.1 The Informational Model and Its Influence on Communication Theory One of the dominant paradigms in communication theory is without doubt that stemming from the influence of "the mathematical theory of electrical communications" model,1 describing communication as the transmission of information between a sender (A) and a receiver (B), through a channel that links them in some way. The central object of this model is then the message that contains the information: information is encoded into the message by A and then decoded by B. Such an operation is made possible by the fact that both A and Β share knowledge of the same message code. In the mathematical theory of communication this model dealt with the only technical features of communication, but it has had a major influence on the developments in communication theory which have followed, at first both in psychology and in linguistics. The process of communication has therefore been conceived of in those sciences as a psychological process of two subjects, (alternately functioning as) sender and receiver, correctly utilizing a linguistic system (that is to 1
Cf. R. V. L. Hartley, "Transmission of Information", Bell System Technology issue 7 (1928), and C. Shannon & W. Weaver, The Mathematical Theory of Communication (1959) [1949].
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say: using a grammar that we assume to be known by both subjects) to produce propositions which demonstrate their own mental activity. In this sense dealing with communication means only considering grammatically correct linguistic propositions. All that does not fit into this restricted category is banished into one of the two peripheral categories available (both of which are also borrowed from the mathematical theory): redundancy and noise. On the basis of various theoretical criteria, a fairly substantial portion of the whole interactive process, including all non-verbal communication and a good part of the verbal as well, is shoved into one or the other of these categories. Consequently communication is reduced to a basic structure; rather anemic, but logical and verifiable. The key to this concept is the connection (a strict relation of symmetry) between "thinking" and the "proposition," where the mind is conceived of as a tank of objective contents which are transformed provisionally by a code that makes it possible to transport them through a channel. This is undoubtedly a rationalistic reduction of the communicative process, a concept based entirely on psychological aspects of communication, abstracted from context and thus misrepresentative of the process as a whole. 1.2.2 Critique of the Informational Model, and the Birth and Development of the Concept of Non-Verbal Communication The fatal psychological flaw in this model has been pointed out first of all by those on the anthropological side of communication research, starting with the study of decidedly non-Western cultures. In this sense the work of Edward T. Hall (1956, 1966), for example, tries to see the communicative process in a way that could be considered as external to the subjects involved in it, based rather on the factor of experience as an anthropological and intercultural meeting point. But the first explicit critique of the informational model is not found until a bit later, in the work of the anthropologist Ray L. Birdwhistell (1973), who writes: Thus the conception has been that the brain, by definition a naturally good producer of logical thoughts composed of words with precise meanings, emit these under proper stimulation. That is, good, clean, logical, rational, denotative, semantically correct utterances are emitted out of the head if the membrane between mind and body efficiently separates this area of the body from that which produces the bad, dirty, illogical, irrational, connotative, and semantically confusing adulterants. Good communication thus takes place if the unadulterated message enters the ear of the receiver and goes through a clean pipe into an aseptic brain. [...] The focus upon communication and its measurement from this perspective is dominated by such an atomistic and loaded conception of man and his behavior that research or theory about communication becomes prescriptive rather than descriptive, (ibid.: 66)
Birdwhistell sees the reduction of communication to a simple passage of verbal information as a mechanistic and atomistic conception of man: A human being is not a black box with one orifice for emitting a chunk of stuff called communication and another for receiving it. And at the same time, communication is not simply the sum of the bits of information which pass between two people in a given period of time, (ibid.: 3)
From this point of view those meaningful elements co-occurring in time in a wide situational context, that of interaction, must be an integral part of research into the
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verbal sphere. Birdwhistell conceives of communication as a structural system of meaningful symbols that he defines multichannel communication. He speaks of two types of messages, the new-informational that include new information for the receiver, and the integrational that comprehend one of four fundamental operations (keeping the system in operation, regulating interaction, co-referring functions and relating to various contexts of communication). On this basis Birdwhistell's later work turns to the descriptive analysis of kinesic signs (the communicative behavior of the body) in their merely morphological aspects. Thus, Birdwhistell's critique of the informational model is that it only takes the verbal element into consideration; but even after other systems of signs have been integrated with the verbal sphere, the transmission of information, albeit through a broader variety of channels, remains the definitive consideration in any process of communication. The birth and development of the concept of non-verbal communication has taken place entirely within this field. This concept encompasses everything that cannot be considered "verbal," which means: -
interaction as a "temporally and spatially situated system," a relational system with several components; and those systems regulating interaction (turn-taking, responsiveness, etc.) and the systems of "codification" and/or "signification" (those which are studied by kinesics, proxemics, paralinguistics, and so on).
A great deal of theoretical and methodological research has been done into nonverbal communication during past 20 years, especially concerning gestures, mimicry, facial expressions, etc. Studies of its relation to verbal communication, however, have still been rather restricted. On the terminological level, in fact, it is a relation of mutual exclusion and opposition, and until recently this opposition has not been properly investigated.2 The question here, in my opinion, concerns the definition of communication itself: if on the one hand it is not limitable to the transmission of verbal information, on the other hand its lack of distinction from the basic concept of interaction is also problematic. It is a question of defining, on the base of heuristic conceptual categories, the role of behavior in the ambit of processes of communication. 1.2.3 Communication as Interaction: Communication
"Behavior" Between Information and
The enlargement of the phenomenological territory assigned to communication (from verbal propositions to interaction in general) is not a simple problem. The question concerns the relationship between behavior and communication, and the exact definition for both terms. The authors of Pragmatics of Human Communication (Watzlawick et al. 1967), for example, are moving in this direction; they at2 Steps to overcome this opposition have apparently been taken in recent years in the context of the broader concept of "multimedial communication," but attempted integration has taken a more symptomatic approach, and has not dealt with the basic paradigms which have created the basic opposition in question.
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tempt to go beyond the monadic model of communication and to find new heuristic means by which to conceptualize interaction. They base all their considerations on a different perspective, according to which the field of observation must be enough large to include the context in which the phenomenon is involved. Their central object of study then is the relationship between behavior and communication, and the interdependency of the two. These authors move away from the traditional psychological approach towards one which represents human beings as being involved in a larger social context. Their purpose is to build explicit and descriptive models of human relations and interaction on the basis of which it would be possible to explain the interdependency between man and his environment. In such a theoretical setting it is possible to take the simple properties of communication as meta-communicational ones, or in their terms, axioms. The first axiom of communication is that behavior has no opposite; non-behavior doesn't exist. The conclusion of the authors of Pragmatics is in a way similar to that of Birdwhistell; communication is postulated to be a process having two different levels: that of content, dealing with the information being transmitted; and that of relation, dealing with the roles that the communicants assume during their interaction. Both aspects certainly affect the interaction, since they are both necessary in order to transmit information. Thus, since information remains the dominant category in explaining communication and behavior, we must analyze it also to understand the whole process. At least some authors have felt it necessary to distinguish between different behaviors occurring during the process of interaction. MacKay, for example, suggests (1972) that we must differentiate between communicative and non-communicative behaviors by defining communication and by establishing a criterion for determining what events can be called communicative. He draws up a list of possible meanings for the term "communication": (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
a mere correlation between events A and B, any causal interaction between A and B, a transmission of information between A and B, regardless of which is sender or recipient, and/or a particular kind of action by one organism, A, affecting another, B, or a transaction between organisms A and B.
He then goes on to exclude definitions (a), (b) and (c) (those italicized above) which could easily be used instead of "communication," and defines an event as "communicative" only if it has some internal organizing function in the recipient. He seems to realize that such a definition doesn't exclude the possibility of some passive events being informative and having some influence on the receiver. The problematic concept here is that of information and how it relates to communication. MacKay tries to define this operationally, in terms of what it does: We say that an event provides us with information when it causes us to know or believe something that we did not know or believe before. In other words, information-about-X determines the form of our readiness-to-reckon-with-X in appropriate circumstances. Objectively, information is said to be transmitted from A to Β when the form of an event or structure at Β is determined by the form of one at A, regardless of the source of the necessary energy. [...] Information-for-
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an-organism is operationally definable as that which confirms or changes its internal representation of its world, (ibid.: 8)
MacKay realizes that it is necessary to distinguish information from communication. The matter at hand is the old problem of intentionality. We can say that some events are symptomatic or informative but not communicative because they are not intentional. He concentrates on determining which of A's behaviors influence the organizational systems of Β in terms of his internal representation of facts, skills and priorities. Finally MacKay attempts to distinguish generally between four basic categories for situations, as in the following diagram:
goal-directed (g-d) — Non-verbal-signals
— interpreted as g-d
_ non-goal-directed
interpreted as non-g-d
MacKay's goal is to distinguish between non-verbal signals used to communicate and those fitting into general patterns of behavior, without any intentional communicative function, although they certainly could be informative. It is my opinion, however, that such a formulation doesn't support his goal. Let's consider the following two interactive situations: (1)
(2)
During a given interaction subject A swings his fist aggressively in direction of subject B's nose, without hitting it because Β ducks. Such act, interpreted as a signal from A, is then goal-directed and it has an influence on B's organizational system, as well as on the structure of their field of interaction, and it is interpreted by Β as goal-directed. But can we say that it is communicative? What would A like to communicate? That he is angry? That he wants to break Β's nose? Or can we simply say that A (is really angry and thus) swings his fist at Β in order to break his nose? Subject A tries to get his hand into B's pocket from behind in order to steal his wallet, but Β sees his hand before it reaches its target. A's hand motion is certainly goal-directed and it is naturally interpreted as such by B, but can we say that it is communicative? According to MacKay's theory we would have to say so, even though it would seem obvious that A by no means intended to communicate his intention to B.
It is thus obvious that MacKay's proposal to distinguish between co-occurring noncommunicative behaviors and communicative ones exclusively on the basis of the "status" of paradigm in terms of finality and causality is unable to furnish us with appropriate heuristic tools for analysis. It seems that MacKay is searching for a theoretical basis for expanding the concept of "information" so that it would be able to explain non-verbal signs without falling into the inherent contradictions involved in such an effort. But the problem seems to go much deeper than that; as we will see in the following pages, it involves the concept of "communicational systems."
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1.2.4 The Concept of Communicational System: the Problem of Signification of Non-Verbal Behavior The enlargement of field of inquiry from simple verbal expression (whether written or oral) to include behavior in general, taking into account non-verbal elements of communication as well, has lead to the development of a new concept, that of communicational systems, and its subsequent application to non-verbal elements of communication. Birdwhistell, for example, believes that members of a social group become part of complex behavioral systems because they learn, as part of their basic ontogenesis, to recognize and to produce a specific form of symbolization: The fact remains that infants from every society in the world can and do internalize the communicational system of that society in approximately the same amount of time, so that the "normal 6-year-old" is able to move smoothly within the communicational system of his society. (Birdwhistell 1973: 5-6; italics mine)
Birdwhistell thinks of communication in toto as a system utilizing several channels from across the entire sensory spectrum. He then defines various systems such as verbal language and communicative gesticulations as "infra-communicational systems," that is to say, sub-systems belonging to a wider system of communication. Such a framework for the concept of communicational systems, in relation and comparison with that of culture, persists within the study of non-verbal communication, although it assumes a different double articulation: -
non-verbality is considered to be a complex behavioral whole learned socially, and in this sense non-verbal systems are behavioral systems of interaction; and the non-verbal sphere is taken to potentially include several communicational systems, each related in one way or another to the sign system notion of semiotics, so that it is possible to speak of a "kinesic system," a "paralinguistic system," a "facial-mimic system," and so on.
This twofold articulation, although at first sight it seems to result a superficial differentiation, actually reflects a more general problem that can be expressed in terms of the question: What kind of signification process brought the non-verbal behavior into being? All of the problems I have discussed till now are tied in some way to this question, which in turn is linked to the more general question of the definition of communication itself (and to the role of signification as the universal meaning structure in the communication process). But the surprising fact is that such a question does not seem to come up in the study of non-verbal communication. It is taken for granted that non-verbal behavior is a non-verbal transmission of information, and the terms "sign" and "signal" are thus used synonymously. Most efforts in and contributions to this field attempt to describe such signs/signals individually and morphologically. The signification of these signs is not systematically contextualized; it is not considered to be a significant systemic consideration, but its analysis is rather linked to the analysis of individual signs. Some authors seem to have noticed this. Fräser (1978), for example, draws up a list of four communicational systems: verbal language, intonation, paralinguistics
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and kinesics. He says that a system must be an integrated and coherent whole made up of interdependent parts or elements, and specifies that if we can speak of a verbal or intonational system, we cannot speak of paralinguistic and kinetic systems. The various signs of which the latter systems are composed do not in fact appear to be as integrated and coherent as the definition above requires. Fraser also distinguishes between three types of communication in the process of interaction: regulation of interaction and interpersonal communication being included in the social and interpersonal sharing aspect of communication; and representational communication being the type of interaction directly related to the meaning of the semantic feature of communication. The first two types are composed of non-verbal elements which do not appear to be systems. The last type involves the "proper" systems: the verbal and intonational ones. Fraser's framework has the merit of underlining the question of the entire signification in the communication process (in verbal/non-verbal terms), but that doesn't keep it from being problematic, especially concerning the relation between systems and signification. What could the representational communication of an intonational system possibly be? And furthermore, must it be part of representational communication by virtue of its being necessarily bound to the verbal system? But if representational communication is typical of verbal and intonational systems, and if we are not able to separate them because of their inevitable co-occurrence in face-to-face interaction, can't it be argued that a certain kind of gesturality (for example ironic gestures and/or theatrical gestures) as well inevitably co-occurs with them and that it too contributes to the semantic completeness of communicative stream? In this sense it is possible to affirm that the actual process of communication involves signification that requires the co-operation of several signsystems, individual signs and particular types of behavior, through a complex and articulate co-occurrence that must still be described. I believe that we should abandon the concept that verbal language is a complete sign system unto itself, and that its structure can be conceived of as self-sufficient. Nor is it sufficient to fulfill just this one necessary condition; we must formulate a new type of understanding of the relationship between sign and sense and that between sense and signification in order to explain the kind of complex signification which brought multimedial communication into being. Let us now analyze Poyatos' (1983) theories concerning the communication process and the various communicational systems involved in it. He conceives of communication as a structured process consisting of several complexes regarded as symbolic systems. That seems to be a good basis for understanding global (multimedial) communication. He takes three types of communicational systems into consideration, which can be defined as anthropo-semiotic systems proper of human beings. They are verbal language, paralanguage and kinesics; constituting what Poyatos calls the triple basic structure of human communication. The common ground is the fact that they are co-structured; that is to say, their semantics and lexicality are indivisible, they are not autonomous systems. Poyatos tries to build a theoretical approach to communication that would be able to recognize the contributions of the various sign systems involved in it, and then to demonstrate the fallacy of the linguistic approach. I don't believe he sue-
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ceeds in this though, particularly in terms of making it possible to describe the costructuring of the entire meaning in multimedial communication. He claims that through a network of somatic channels we encode messages using the somatic complexes (sign systems), and he believes that such encoding can be realized, "without the intellectual process requiredfor the production of words." This condition, perhaps suggested by the necessity to recognize the role of non-verbal signs, makes his theory, in my opinion, unsustainable. If we consider "encoding" to be a potentially unintentional activity, we are able to include in the kinesic system every kind of gesture; both the hand movement for "hello" and a hand movement due to a muscle spasm. As a matter of fact both of these movements transmit information; so if we eliminate the element of intentionality, we will have no heuristic means left to distinguish between behaviors occurring during interaction between quite different signs such as hand movements made to say hello and those of muscle spasms (that can be interpreted as such). The definition of "system" itself seems to be seriously damaged by such a point of view. Evidently the problem is the connection between communication and signification, in the sense of distinguishing those elements in the communicational stream that are intentionally working to construct meaning from those that lack this intention. This leads once again to the necessity for a definition of communication that would not be based on the informational model. The problem consequently involves the notion of a sign system, and the related question of which human activities could be assigned to such. If we assume that every activity of an organism that transmits information is a sign system, we would have no means to distinguish between signs so different from each other as the hand movements mentioned above. This means that the meaning building function, including the construction of signification (that is to say, a co-structured complex entire meaning), should be taken into consideration in defining a sign system as such. Poyatos' theory is still firmly tied to the traditional understanding of the problem of meaning construction in terms of the relationship between meaning and individual signs, which comes from the informational model.
1.2.5 Basic Prerequisites for Developing a Workable Concept of Communication Resuming this short introductory analysis, we can say that before attempting a definition of "communication" we must first complete the following tasks: -
to distinguish between "interaction" and "communication" on the basis of meaningful intentionality, to distinguish, consequently, between "the transmission of information" and "communication."
Another relevant question is that of signification ·, we have seen how this notion is comprehensively explained in the field of communication theory in the simplistic terms of the informational model, according to which most authors consider "code" and "sign system" to be synonymous; likewise "medium" and "channel." When
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analyzing multimedial communication such vague terminology produces several difficult problems, e.g., how to analyze the co-existence of several "codes" or "sign systems." Following the informational model, even a formally excellent theorization like that of Moles (1988) - an approach to communication as a multi-sign phenomenon — is frustrated by the obstacle of signification. While taking many features and phenomena of communications (and in particular of telecommunications) into consideration, Moles traces various types of situations back to a basic scheme that he calls "canonical." According to this scheme, the emitting subject A creates a message through the conceptual process of mental representation. This message is then encoded in a physical (material) structure and transmitted through a physical channel (disturbed by "noise" along the way). This material structure is composed of signs taken from inventory I (IA = the inventory proper to A) and assembled with the help of a code of rules C (CA= the code proper of A). Receiver Β then receives this message by decoding it through a process of identifying its signs and recognizing rules by which they were assembled according to inventory IB and code CB. As for the physical nature of message, Moles writes: A la question de LASWELL [...] , correspond une autre serie de criteres, lies cette fois-ci a la nature du canal sensoriel exploite par le recepteur (vision, audition, etc.), c'est I'analyse de media. Ces caracteres ne sont pas exclusifs, introduisant ici ä Γ idee de communication multimedia dont les contenus se repartissent de differentes fagons selon plusieurs voies de la sensibilite, eventuellement plusieurs fa9ons d'utiliser les memes signes sensoriels: image et texte, musique et parole, (ibid.: 45)
He believes that messages encoded through two or more distinct media systems are decoded separately and successively integrated with and compared to a universal mental image (Imago). The use of distinct media systems can be helpful to protect the informative content from noise or bad decoding. Such a perspective then conceives of a medium as a channel a mere means of transportation, the relation of which to the content of the message is trivial; it does not recognize the specific syntactic-semantic-pragmatic nature of a medium. (In the canonical scheme Moles' inventory of signs (I) is entirely distinct from the code (C) of rules for assembling such signs. The lack of mention of any semantic device or system is, in my opinion, symptomatic of the mechanicity of such a model of communication.) On the other hand, I do think that it is relevant to consider the co-functioning of various sign systems in the process of communication, as a process of building a complex meaning to which each medium contributes according with its specific nature. Consequently we must complete one further task: linking the notion of communication to that of signification in a way that would make it possible to consider and to describe the co-functioning and co-operation of various media; in other words, taking the process of signification into consideration in all of its multimodal and multimedial complexity. The next step after that might be to bring a compatible notion of sign systems into this theoretical framework (and if possible to clarify the concept of "communicational systems" and any possible relations between these concepts as well). But first we should briefly look back through the field of semiotics to see if the concepts of "signification" and "sign systems" have already been formulated in a usable way.
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Semiotic Aspects of Interaction
Semiotics has always formulated the concept of the sign, and the related concept of the sign system, in a rather general sort of way, i.e., avoiding direct reference to any specific system. Saussure thinks that verbal language is only one sign system among others, though clearly the most important of the set. On the other side of the ocean, Peirce and Morris conceived of semiosis, more or less explicitly as a process concerning either linguistic and non-linguistic signs. That might lead us to believe that a multimedial semiotic perspective, a perspective taking into account the contemporary integration of various systems of signification, might already exist in the field of semiotics, theoretically at least. Unfortunately it isn't so simple as that, as we shall see in our brief analysis of the traditional semiotic understanding of the sign and of the relationship between communication and signification in the specific views of various authors. 1.3.1 Concepts of "Sign " and "Sign Systems " The fundamental conceptual basis for the theory of signs, including its many variations, is that of classical philosophy, according to which aliquid stat pro aliquo. The task is to analyze this stat in order to understand what features it assumes in these different theoretical structures. Saussure, as is well-known, introduced, as an alternative to nominalism, the concept that a sign doesn't stat for something, but it rather links a concept to an acoustical image. In this sense, also considering the langue/parole distinction, we can say that signs become part of a socially shared whole where each sign corresponds to an idea carried by an acoustical image (being it either a phoneme or a word). This concept seems to apply very nicely to spoken language, but it creates severe difficulties if applied to other systems, and I think that one early confirmation of this is the fact that when Saussure drew up a list of examples of languages he included such conventional and formal systems as the deaf-mutes' alphabet and military signals together with spoken languages. He thinks, as a matter of fact, about die conventional relationship between the sign and what it corresponds to, as a socially accepted relationship, as mentioned above, thus it assumes a static aspect. This relationship creates insurmountable difficulties in the analysis of semiotic products like advertising, television serials and computer animation, due to the fact that most of these products frequently change their physical semiotic aspect to avoid conspicuous "conventionality." The verbal system itself can be difficult to explain in a case where its signification is built up through a complex textual whole like a book, because the relation of this macro-sign to that with which it corresponds is far more complex than that of a single isolated sign, and it cannot be explained by summing up the various individual sign/sense associations of which it is composed. It is my opinion, however, that the problem lies deeper, hidden in the folds of the Saussurian concept of the langue/parole distinction, according to which we make hypostatic assumptions about verbal systems abstracted from the daily practice of communication; after which we try to take the practice, conceived of as variant, replica or pragmatic token, and bring it back in line with the system. This clears up a great deal of Saussure's equivocation (and that of most of semiotics for
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that matter); the "sign" the abstract entity of concrete (phonetic) enunciation is inserted as function between phonetic action and the concept it carries. Thus signification is what remains (or in Saussure's words "corresponds") between the sign and the concept carried, not between the phonetic action and the concept carried. Any phonetic action must be explained in terms of this association between signs and concepts, without considering the actual situation in which it occurs. It is possible to object, in my opinion, that this concept perverts the nature of signification as an actual process by abstracting it from its physical essence and by re-interpreting it from a distinctly Platonic point of view that I would call hyperuranic: the idea of the sign rises up to judge the sign from which the idea originally came, i.e., the concrete phonetic action. If, from a heuristic point of view, it is useful to build theoretical categories, it is important as well to maintain the understanding that such categories are in fact heuristic and descriptive rather than prescriptive. On this basis we can say that a particular phonetic whole carries a concept, but we also have to consider this association as just one constructive element in a wider semiotic production like a brick in masonry in constructing a theory of "signs" and "sign systems" based on the macro-architecture of the system. The goal then is to bring the particular back into our understanding of the general and not visa versa. A telecast, a story book or any other semiotic production is something more complex than a sum of signs and things which they stand for. This complexity is describable and interpretable only through an approach capable of avoiding a separation between the signification process and the concrete communicative one. The Morrisian concept might appear to be more ductile in this respect, since it defines the "sign" as something functional and concrete. The basic idea is that the sign acts as a preparatory stimulus; once some pre-conditions are satisfied it substitutes in some way for what it represents, i.e., an object or state-of-affairs and it thus satisfies a need. In this way the sign indicates a reality as well as communicating it, making it known by installing a "commonality of signification" through a communicative means. Such a framework perhaps has more to offer from a communicational point of view, but from the significational one it is still inadequate, furnishing only the vaguest description by which the "sign" as entity can be recognized. The Morrisian failure thus seems to be inverse to the Saussurian one: a lack of a serious reflection on signification. 1.3.2 Communication/Signification: a Difficult Relationship We have thus arrived at a basic problem: relation between communication and signification. If we look back over semiotics objectively, we see a general tendency to divide these two ambits either from a methodological or a theoretical point of view. According to Eco (1968), for example, semiotics is a general theory that studies any cultural process as a phenomenon of communication, but it is divided into two areas of study: -
theories of codes that concern the ambit of signification; and theories of sign production that specifically belong in the semiotic ambit of communication.
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The basic elementary structure of the communicative process is conceived of in terms of the informational model. This communicative or informational process becomes significant thanks entirely to the code; the system of signification that associates present entities with absent entities. According to Eco, the apperception of the receiver and the interpretation process he acts out are not necessary conditions for the relation of signification; it is sufficient for correspondence, fixed by the code, to have something "standing for" and its "correlate." Eco considers the system of signification to be an autonomous semiotic construct, abstract and independent of any communicative act; while, on the contrary, any communicative process among human beings necessarily presupposes a code or system of signification which includes then a syntactic system (a series of signals regulated by a combination of inner laws), a semantic system (a series of contents) and a behavioral system (a series of possible behavioral answers by the receiver). These three sub-systems are bound by a rule which is integral to the code itself. This rule associates the elements of the syntactic system with those of the semantic system and/ or with those of the behavioral system. The systems constituting the code can subsist independently, and for this reason Eco refers to them as "s-codes" (subcodes). Eco believes that codes are of certain "general types" which are realized when the rule produces or generates them as tokens. In this sense Eco assigns to a theory of codes the task of explaining the rules of linguistic competence, text building and contextual disambiguity. He proposes a semantic able to solve the problems in its domain commonly ascribed to pragmatics. The theory of codes then has the task of analyzing and describing those requisites which, being socially acknowledged, must be taken as rules for codifying (and decodifying) procedures. Here Eco himself recognizes that in considering a semantic system like a dictionary, i.e., as abstract competence, we clash with the semiotic practice that moves and changes the type/ token correlation continuously by transforming some tokens into types. Eco is forced to revise his theory of codes, saying that it is necessary to define semantic fields and axes only within the communicative conditions of a given message. He concludes by saying that the supposed independence of the system of signification from the system of sign production remains legitimate only as "regulating hypothesis." 1.3.3 Some Hypotheses for Reconjunction and/or Resolution Another contribution to the mediation between the domains of communication and signification comes from Prieto (1975a), who includes both communication and signification within the field of general semiological research (trying to resolve the academic opposition, within the French semiology, between a semiology of communication and a semiology of signification). According to Prieto, the task of the study of communication in general is to figure out the possible codes involved, in order to understand the specific nature and original features of each linguistic phenomenon; and the task of the study of signification is to attempt to explain social behavior through the means of signification developing therefrom. It is evident in this formulation that the sphere of signification presupposes the sphere of communication, where signification itself takes place. This concept, writes Prieto (1975b), is based on a twofold postulate concerning the object of linguistics.
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On the one hand, language is not only a collection of sound-sensations, but also the structure which determines the particular way in which these sounds and sensations are known. In more precise terms, language is a structure and way of knowing, and the study of semiotic structures is the study of the knowledge built and used by human groups, as well as the study of the forms of praxis that these human groups assume.3 On the other hand, language is a means used by human beings to communicate, and in Prieto's opinion this function alone offers an explanation for the structure which constitutes language. Each unit of knowledge, taken to be real knowledge of a genuinely existing subject, must have some function. This function can in turn permit the explication of the structure on which such knowledge is based; or as Prieto himself writes, knowledge is always inserted into some practice. Language and semiotic structures make possible the practice of communication, but communication is at the same time the field which enables language and semiotic structures to exist. I think we can accept the general scheme of Prieto's theories. The remaining problem then is to reformulate the understanding of the relationship between communication and signification so that it would be possible to take into account the actual context of relationships between signs and sign systems on the one hand, and the different types of signification (micro- and macro-architectural) within actual communicative praxis on the other. 2.
A Contribution to the Re-Systematization of the Principal Concepts Necessary for a Semiotic Theory ofMultimedial Communication
2.1
Introduction
In accordance with what has already been written in the previous chapter, I will now try to build a model for communication and signification (which I will call a "semiotic model") able to go beyond the problems and limitations outlined above. In the analysis of multimedial communication at the general and textological level it is necessary to propose a model which takes into account the joint-action of different systems in the meaning building process; and at the same time it is necessary to delimit the terms required for such a model. 2.2
Signification, Media and Communication: From the Informational Model to the Sphere of Multimediality
I have based this model on a concept which I have labeled multimedial semantic organization, which represents an extension of the signum outlined by Petöfi (1985, 1988, 1989, 1989/90), which is explicitly open to a semiotic multimedial reading. It does not, as a matter of fact, take the nature of signs into consideration, adapting itself to various classes of signs, both verbal and non-verbal. 3
In this sense Prieto connects the semiotic stream of the theory of knowledge to a practical reflection, thus neutralising J. Trabant's (1976) critique of semiotics, according to which, "Die Semiotik entsteht in der Philosophie als ein Teil der Erkenntnistheorie und nicht als ein Teil der praktischen Philosophie."
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Because of the limitations of the format of the present article, I will continue on with the assumption that the reader is familiar with Petöfi's signum model. I will simply say that multimedial semantic organization is an extension of the sensus component of the verbal signum (Petöfi 1989/90). 2.2.1 Multimedial Semantic Organization Apart from the nature of the semiotic systems involved, we will assume that within the process of semiotic production it is possible to relate to the class of relata expressed, through three types of sensi: 1. 2. 3.
Syntactic-conceptual [linearly explicable] Sensus (abbr. Se=sc): the type of sensus that refers to relata through their linear/sequential causal ordering. Gestaltic-conceptual Sensus (abbr. Se=gc): the type of sensus which refers to relata as Gestalten, or forms. Aesthetic-emotional Sensus (abbr. Se=ee): the type of sensus which refers to relata through the linkage established between them and the sensible emotional system.
These three types of sensi, within a multimedial whole composed of signs, are to be analyzed with regards to the aspect of their constitution which can be seen in the way that each of them can be expressed through one semiotic system or another. For example, it is possible that during a face-to-face conversation the verbal system would express linearly both Se=sc by the description of the objects/state of affairs and Se=ee by the use of a particular style or words; and the kinesic system would express both Se=gc by miming the action of the matter and Se=ee by showing through the facial expression the emotional state of the speaker concerning the object of enunciation. I believe that distinguishing between these three forms of sensi could make the semiotic treatment of the joint-action of various semiotic systems easier.4 Moreover it is necessary to comprehend that the specific sign/meaning relationship is co-structural with the analogous relations of other systems. 2.2.2 Semiotic System, Medium and Channel A basic prerequisite for the construction of a model of multimedial communication is a working definition of what a semiotic system is, so that it's possible to distinguish, among the various events occurring in a given communicative context those tied to the construction of a meaning from those not tied to it. I would define a semiotic system as a physical system of signification based on three interrelated components:
4
It could, in my opinion, clarify as well several problems linked to classifications of kinesic signs based on their relation to a single meaning, which is based in turn on the formal aspect of the sign instead of on a notion of meaning appropriate for kinesic systems.
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A collection of signs: more or less determined. A syntactic system: i.e., rules for the combination of signs. A semantic system: a collection of sensations associated with the signs and combinations thereof.
I must add the qualification that these three components would have singular properties according to the specific nature of the semiotic system in object. Furthermore I must add the following qualifications: -
-
The notion of a "semiotic system" outlined above is a theoretical notion with special attention given to signification; it regards the formal aspect of signification, i.e., its structure as theoretical construct. It is clear that as a theoretical abstraction it leaves the communicative situation out of consideration. From a situational point of view this notion could be considered as a form of systemic knowledge which enables semiotic production to take place.
Consequently, we assume signification to be a conscious voluntary process, and that such characteristics are necessary properties for bringing behaviors back into a semiotic system. Within semiotic reflection the term "medium" is often used synonymously with "channel" and since neither has ever been strictly defined; it is necessary indeed to establish a distinction between them. I define "medium" as a specific physical type of semiotic system. Since the notion of a medium includes the consideration of actual communicative situations, it represents the concrete production aspect of semiotics. Consequently we assume that any given semiotic system could be organized (in terms of its "vehiculum") in many different concrete systemic ways: for example the verbal semiotic system can be concretely manifested in such diverse media as phonic-verbal, graphic-verbal and tactile-verbal (see 2.3.6,2.3.7). The problem of the "channel" seems to be linked more to the aspect of reception and thus to the informational model. I define "channel" as the physical means by which people exchange semiotic material, that links two poles in communication. It is quite useful to specify the channel in the case of a technical mediation, i.e., in the analysis of those media using (or based on) artificial channels. These definitions should become clearer in relation to the general model I will propose in the following section. 2.2.3 A Model of Multimedial Communication To avoid any further stumbling into the informational model, I will construct this model of the communicational process without taking the sender/receiver pairing into consideration. Taking that bipolar relationship as a basis inevitably leads to a linear unidirectional model, which, even in considering the synchronic answers given by the receiver, conceives of communication as a holistic process of blocks, or messages, moving in one basic direction, totally abstracted from the real subjects or agents of communication. In contrast to this, my intention is to involve these subjects in this new (provisional) formulation, because they are part of the general context of communication and of semiotic production and I see no reason why they should be left out of consideration.
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The definition of communication I propose is based upon the general etymological meaning of the term, that of "sharing something": Communication is a spatially and temporally determined process occurring between two poles (PI and P2), allowing them to have physical semiotic events in common, either co-productively or moving from one to the other (see Fig. 1).
Fig. 1: The general form of the process of communication.
It is evident that these poles must each represent one or more living beings capable of establishing semiotic interaction through the use of common and compatible semiotic systems. One necessary condition for establishing communication is the consciousness of the poles; briefly stated, communication necessarily begins with the conscious establishment of some form of physical contact between the poles. This can be done either by way of natural or artificial signals (e.g., a hand movement to wave, tooting a car's horn, remotely sounding an electric beeper, etc.). Likewise, communication ends with the conscious suspension of the contact by the poles through the use of signals. Thus: PI and P2 consciously begin and end their communicative relationship. This condition is also tied to a very important parameter that I wish to define: reciprocity. It concerns the possibility for Ρ1 and P2 to have a reciprocal and equivalent exchange through semiotic systems or media, of the physical semiotic objects of communication. I believe that this parameter can take into account the communicative typological variety of the social tissue, because it presupposes the conceiving of the agents of communication not as generic entities (in weak Platonic terminology: "pure beings") abstracted from their social context, but as parts of a social organism where abstracted beings do not exist. Reciprocity determines itself indeed through several more or less hierarchical, more or less intersubjectively acknowledged, consuetudinary and/or official roles; all these factors play determining roles in the communication process.
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I will consequently assume that in its general form the communicational process is based on an equal reciprocity between PI and P2. When this reciprocity cannot be considered equal, we will say that one pole is dominating the other and that such communication has a reduced reciprocity. This aspect of reciprocity assumes great relevance in reference to the construction of universal meaning in communication, because such meaning is built through co-operation between the poles involved, and this process is maximized precisely when reciprocity is equalized. We should thus consider a significatum of communication constituted by the common physical semiotic production of both poles. The analyst of communication must position himself as external observer of the entire field of communication where the semiotic co-operation, i.e., the accord between PI and P2 to set their own subjective meanings into a common horizon of sense, takes place. Contrastingly, the informational analyst observes from within each of the poles, first in the sender and then in the receiver, in a chronological scansion, thus privileging only a partial point of view and thus receiving a partial significatum, to derive therefrom all the problems concerning the semantic aspect of communication as the transmission of information. A semiotic theory of human multimedial communication must take into account the significatum, and in the case where we analyze the semiotic production of a single pole, we have to maintain the firm awareness that we are dealing with a partial significatum. This leads us to conceive of communication in its general and daily form as bipolar, i.e., communication where the signum or sign complex is constituted by the joining of the semiotic production of both poles. This bipolar communication can be direct, when the given time and space are common to PI and P2, in which case their semiotic production can be considered as natural multimedial one; or it can be semidirect, when the given time and/or space differs, in which case it can be a natural monomedial or an artificial multimedial production (see Fig. 2), but necessarily technically mediated (for example by way of telecommunication technology). 2.2.4 Multimedial Semiotic Systems and Macro-Media The bipolar communication must be individualized from a physical semiotic point of view as a multimedial event, which brings about the physical semiotic co-structuring of different media. This co-structuring has a systemic feature: it displays itself as a multimedial semiotic system where each medium fulfills a given semiotic function to significantly elaborate on reality. I will thus define a multimedial semiotic system (abbr. Sy=ms) as a system which co-structures different elementary nontechnical media (with the possibility of a technical mediation), which an organism (able to communicate through the use of different semiotic systems) can create during the process of semiotic production with the aid of its own physical organs, within a given communicative situation. This is naturally a theoretical notion abstracted from the particular physical expression that the joint medial structure can communicatively assume. This physical expression is the "medium" which in this case is multimedially constituted. We therefore have to assign to it an alternative
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term to indicate its multimedial nature: I propose to call it a macro-medium. A macro-medium is a complex system of non-technical physical multimedial semiotic productions. direct: time and space in ^ common for PI and P2 (e.g., meeting on the street)-
dual reduced communication
(Hol)
semidirect: time and/or - space not in common for ^ PI & P2 (e.g., phone call)
direct: time and space in common for PI & (e.g., public assembly, congress, etc.)
plural communication Pl(l,...k) e/o P2(l,...k)\
semidirect: time and/or space not in common for PI & P2(e.g., straight radio link, connection among televisive studies, etc.)
equal reciprocity reduced reciprocity equal reciprocity reduced reciprocity
equal reciprocity reduced reciprocity
natural multimedial semiotic production of PI & P2 with the possibility of technical mediation (e.g., listening apparatus) |—
natural mono- or multimedial semiotic production technically mediated —
natural mono- or multimedial semiotic production of PI & P2 with the possibility of technical mediation (e.g., the use of a public address system for an assembly)
natural mono- or multimedial semiotic production for PI & P2 technically mediated
Fig. 2: Typology of the communicative situations.
2.3
Multimediality as a Textual System
I will now propose a theoretical frame of reference for communication as a concrete event, whose physical semiotic constituents have been defined. We will then be able to analyze a particular type of physical semiotic production as having a fixed medial configuration which cannot be changed within the communicative context. This is the case in textual production. Before proceeding, however, we must come to an agreement about the textological terminology we will use. 2.3.1 The Concept
of'Text"
The notion of "text" I'm referring to is that worked out by Petöfi (1988) in the domain of semiotic textology. Petöfi conceives of text as a semiotic-relational object, i.e., a physical relational object, the relation of which explicates itself, in semiotic terminology, as that between the significans and the significatum: the physical semiotic object. This semiotic object is considered to be an element of the linguistic structure rather than a linguistic system: Mit anderen Worten bedeutet dies, daß der Terminus "Text", wie er im Rahmen der semiotischen Textologie verwendet wird, auf die Relation zweier (auf interpretativem Wege zu bestimmender) Entitäten, und nicht auf ein (statisches) Objekt hinweist. Wenn wir es noch genauer ausdrücken wollen: die semiotische Textologie betrachtet die Zeichenkomplexe als Resultate von Interaktionen zwischen gegebenen Vehikula und deren jeweiligen Empfängern/Interpreten, wobei in der Interaktion auch das zum Resultat der Interpretation gehört, wer, in welcher Kommuni-
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kationssituation, welches Objekt als das Vehikulum eines angenommenen Zeichenkomplexes akzeptiert. (Petöfi 1994/95)
2.3.2 Text and Communication: Three Types of Text From an external point of view the analyst of communication has to consider two general types of text: the text, constituted by the semiotic production of both poles; and the partial text, constituted by the semiotic production of one pole. Within the communicative context, however, we must also take into consideration what I call the pre-fixed text, i.e., the semiotic production occurring in a communicative situation with a rigid configuration, which presents itself in an autonomous way as an entity unto itself within the semiotic production of one pole or the other. The party at the opposite pole has no possibility to change the basic structure of such a text. In this case the parameter of reciprocity moves towards zero, and the "receiver" can only open and close the communicational contact (as is the case with most televised or cinematic communication, for example). Its space of action is limited to the level of significatum, the significans being unchangeable. Once it has opened the communication though, this pole can reproduce the significatum of the text in question, and thus take on a productive role of sorts. I will call this reduced bipolar communication and as for the roles played by poles, I will refer to the dominant one as the Hyperpole (abbr. HyePl) and dominated one as the Hypopole (abbr. HyoP2). I must point out that the significatum, within the normal process of communication, is produced by the medium, but it has a strict connection with the context of communication; it is in fact the common denominator of all reciprocal and spontaneous semiotic production. Within reduced bipolar communication the context of the co-textual significatum produced by HyePl can be separated in some cases from the context of HyoP2 by an invisible barrier which is acknowledged by HyoP2. In such cases HyoP2 has an analogous role to that of the communicational analyst, it is in fact an external observer. 2.3.3 The Problem of Polarity: the Textualizer/Fruitor Relationship The case of the pre-fixed text as a pole within communication concerns non-spontaneous semiotic production, and, as stated above, this fact leads us to reconsider the poles in the bipolarity of communication. In several cases a pole isn't an organism, but a text of a technical nature (a film, cartoon, etc.). This leads to consider the communicative process as: (a) (b)
constituted by two poles where HyeP 1 would represent the author of the text and HyoP2 the reader; or constituted by two poles where HyePl would represent the text itself and HyoP2 the reader or audience.
I think it is possible to consider both cases by introducing a distinction between them based on the specific relationship between the author and the audience. Prior to this, however, we must find a suitably generic term to indicate:
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the audience by avoiding terms that stem from those conceptions where the audience is considered as a passive receiver. I propose the word Fruitor coming from the Latin verb fruitio having a sense which is in part given by the concept of use and in part by that of enjoy, the author(s) without referring to their number.
I propose the word Textualizer, being a theoretical abstraction indicating the entity which builds a text. It is to be kept distinct from two other entities, the Replicator and the Reproducer, which I won't go into here in any detail. Suffice to say that they have the function of multiplying in a specific way the material manifestation of the text in question within communicative situations. The distinction between the Textualizer and the replicator/reproducer consists of the fact that only the textualizer is the creator of the text as an "original object," while the others are secondary entities which are only relevant in the process because of the existence of the text itself. The Textualizer (one or more persons) creates the text, i.e., puts something extra-textual into a textual form, taking into account a hypothetical or real audience. The textualizer conceives of a model Fruitor, according to the requirements of which the text is worked out. This model audience can be: (c) (d)
individualized; or indistinct.
In case (c), the model Fruitor represents one or more specific individuals, i.e., real existing individuals to whom the textualizer addresses its text (as is the case, for example, in epistolary correspondence, e-mail, phone calls, etc.). In the case (d) the model Fruitor isn't any specific individual, but some indistinct mass, for example. In this case the textualizer creates its text with a personal model of such an "indistinct Fruitor" in mind, i.e., on the basis of the hypothetical interests and responses of an indistinct model Fruitor. These two cases constitute therefore two different and possible "textual connections" between the Textualizer and the Fruitor. But we must still analyze the Textualizer/text relationship as now concerns the Textualizer itself. It (she/he/they) can be part of the textual reality in two distinct ways: (e) (f)
modeling itself within the text as specific individual (or group); or modeling itself within the text as virtual individual (or group).
In case (e) the Textualizer sets itself within the text as specified real existing self (through the mediation of its own idea of itself); as is the case in epistolary correspondence. In case (f) Textualizer isn't explicitly present within the text itself, but as a virtual Textualizer (for example as the story-teller within a novel, the external voice of the story-teller connecting the events in a film, the didascalic explications in comic strips, etc.). In conclusion I would combine cases (a) and (b) with the cases (c), (d), (e) and (f) into two general and differentiated types of communicative relationships (see Fig. 3):
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- case (a)-(c)-{e) textually mediated interpersonal communication; and - case (b)-(d)-(f) textual polarity communication. individualized modeled
Textualizer
case ( a H c H e ) ;
Fruitor
Textually mediated interpersonal communication
indistinct modeled Fruitor
Textualizer •
• Text
Fruitor
virtual modeled Textualizer
case (b)-(d)-(f); Textual polarity communication
Fig. 3: Textually mediated interpersonal communication and textual polarity communication.
2.3.4 Non-Technical and Technical Media and Virtualization Systems Throughout the course of history people have been refining semiotic systems in two particular ways: -
working out more complex usage for non-technical media; and creating analogous, artificial technical "reproductions" of non-technical media.
The first case represents, for example, the use of oral language within contexts outside of our daily routines, such as a theater play or poetry recital. Human beings have worked out several (culturally determined) techniques for using phonetic action to build virtual contexts which go beyond everyday life experiences (and the same can be said for kinesics). In the second case human beings have transformed a medium by duplicating it by way of a specific technique. For example oral language was transformed when duplicated by the graphic technique of providing graphemic translation for minima units (phonemes, letters). In the first case the physical nature of the medium remains, in fact, non-technical; but in the second case the medium becomes technical, i.e., it no longer depends on the activity of our physical organs. Here we find the difference between com-
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municating by telephone and epistolary correspondence. The telephone just technically relays the phonic-verbal medium, which remains a physio-acoustic semiotic event. Letter writing, on the other hand, is a technical transformation of the phonetic-verbal medium into a chirographic (or typographic) verbal medium. The physical transformation of a medium is then a creation of a new kind of medium with its own specific aspects and properties. For example, the graphicverbal medium does not use the acoustical channel but the visual one. The specific physical nature of the medium also influences and conditions the relation among the three components of the system (outlined in 2.2.2) so that the technical double isn't a copy of the non-technical medium; nor is it totally congruent with it. Besides, through the graphic technique and its development, it is also possible to virtualize broad and complex portions of the reality in a more direct way than was possible with simple graphic-verbal language; witness the increasing involvement of images within complex technical (and "technotronical") semiotic systems. In this process of complex virtualization, a decisive role is played by those components of the multimedial semantic organization which represent its "operative station." The three types of "sensi" which I have treated in 2.2.1 represent not only the relation between relata and sensi, but also, and above all, the three possible operations of the semioticization of reality that human beings have the faculty to perform; the three main ways of connecting to reality within a significational process. The use of the graphic-technique has made it possible then to organize this connection in new forms and combinations. Before getting into our analysis of technical multimediality, which is therefore always textually pre-fixed, it is necessary to introduce some textological notions derived from text linguistics which are important in the study of textual multimedial process. 2.3.5 Properties Assignable to a Text It hardly simplifies the question, but we could summarize the three properties assignable to a text (analyzed by Petöfi et al. 1989) as follows: -
connexity is the property regarding the syntactic configurational aspect of the text; cohesion is the property regarding the semantic configurational aspect of the text; coherence is the property regarding the textual world, the relational structure of the textual world.
These three properties are in a relation of reciprocal interdependence with each other, although this interdependence constitutes a theoretical problem which till now has not been dealt with. In any case, I think that it is safe to assume that this type of interdependence is also a general semiotic property, which I will call connectedness, i.e., the property assignable to a text individualized as the co-structural product of the three properties (mentioned above) necessary for text formation. This property doesn't represent, as the others do, an inherent property of the individual text, but a theoretical construction assignable to it. In my opinion it can be very significant to consider the connection between the "connectedness" recog-
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nizable to a Fruitor in a text and "connectedness" used in semiotic production. Connectedness can therefore be considered from either a constructive or a re-constructive viewpoint. In the former instance, the Textualizer produces a text, and in doing so gives a textual form to something extra-textual; it creates a possible (albeit fictional) world - a semiotically organized physical configuration of objects, states-of-affairs and events which I will refer to as an interactional-textual world. I will then call the property which guides such production textualizing connectedness, and the one which guides its re-production con-textualizing connectedness. 2.3.6 Multimedial Semantic Organization and Connectedness as Main Factors of Textualization I would now like to analyze the link between connectedness and the three components of sensus, and their contribution within the production of texts. I will give the qualification in advance that I will leave Se=ee out of consideration here. Se=sc orders relata linearly in space and time; and Se=gc orders relata within the same time in different points in the space, i.e., as forms or gestalten. These two types of sensi can be co-present during the textualizing process, and I believe that they bring about, in a way which needs to be clarified, two main types of connection between semiotic events and materials. That is to say, I wish to point out two types of textual connectedness: -
serial connectedness (sequential/linear): to order semiotic "objecta" (objects, states-of-affairs and events) in a mono- or multimedial configuration according to a spatial-temporal linearity; integral connectedness-, to order semiotic objecta in a simultaneous mono- or multimedial configuration across different spatial co-ordinates.
Let us imagine that we have been given the task of creating a text to describing a battle. If we decide to use a verbal system like writing we can, for example, describe in a chronological linear way the various phases of the battle. If we decide to use a figural system like painting we can do the same, but there is a major difference between the two texts created: the verbal system works out the events linearly (as we would use several pages to tell the story), while the specific figural system of painting, by contrast, works them out integrally (providing us with only one "page" on which to tell the story). We might consider arranging the various events within the figural text linearly as well, for example moving from left to right, but the result would be the same: all of the events would be taken in at the same time but in different spaces as we look at the picture. Other figural systems though, such as comic strips, can have a serial connectedness. In any case, all textual systems must be described through the analysis of their connectedness and of the media used. 2.3.7 Textual Semiotic Systems When we use two or more different media we have a broad possibility to choose which means of arranging events, which associations between the media and which
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kind of connectedness to use; every particular kind of textualization can be considered, in my opinion, as "systemic." I therefore introduce the concept of the textual semiotic system (abbr. Sy=ts) regarding an autonomous mono-medial system of textualization which is singular and not reducible to a spontaneous semiotic system as outlined in 2.2.2. I consider it extremely important to have a specific conceptual framework for studying the phenomenon of textualization, especially concerning the analysis of those flgurai systems which are not the technical doubles of some natural system, but which have always been techniques of textually semioticizing reality. Consequently I use the concept of Sy=ts as a substitute for that of the technical medium; rather than a verbal-technical medium, we will here consider a verbal-textual semiotic system. Moreover it is my intention to consider the various kinds of figurative graphicization and extra-kinesic media as part of the conceptual category of figural-textual semiotic system. 2.3.8 Classification of Monomedial Texts by Textual Semiotic System Now that we have established our terminology concerning these two textual semiotic systems I will outline a classification of monomedial texts (considered then as textual-media) based on the two types of textual connectedness outlined above (see Fig. 4). serial connectedness textual semiotic verbal system
textual semiotic flgurai system
integral connectedness
graphic-verbal (esp. any type of graphic-verbal text without pictures) cinematic-figural (e.g., silent cartoons, any type of silent film without subtitles)
chirographic-figural (e.g., drawings, sketches, caricatures, paintings, etc.)
extrakinesic-figural (e.g., dance, ballet, mime, pantomime, etc.)
photographic-figural (e.g., photos of any form and genre)
chirographic-figural (e.g., comic strips having no verbal elements) Fig. 4: Categories of monomedial texts.
Within the verbal-Sy=ts category we have graphic-verbal (the sub-categories of which, various types of graphicization, I will not be taking up here) and phonicverbal texts; which as a rule display a form of serial connectedness (although certain poems could be considered as graphic-verbal texts with integral connectedness).
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Then within the figural-Sy=ts category we have cinematic- and extra-kinesicfigural texts which are serially connected, and chirographic- and photographicfigural texts with integral connectedness. The association of two or more textual media produces a multimedial textualization, which can also be considered as systemic. This I would call a textual multimedial semiotic system (abbr. Sy=tms). Its classification depends on types of textual semiotic systems co-present within this complex system, but it can also be determined by the prevalence of one type of connectedness or another (and in some cases, as we shall see, by the equal combination of the two forms of connectedness). Thus according to one type of prevalent connectedness or another, and according to the particular associations of textual media, we can distinguish between different types of multimedial texts (or textual macro-media). In the next chapter, after working out a general typology of possible Sy=tms, I will try to outline a typology of multimedial texts. 3.
Testing the Model: A (partial) Typology of Multimedial Texts
3.1
Introduction
In this chapter I will try to test the paradigms outlined in chapter 2., building a (partial) typology of multimedial texts which would be consistent with the theoretical framework of general semiotics and also with the specific categories of the various disciplines which deal with texts. In my opinion the typological structure established within semiotics has become abstracted from the particular notions which have been developed in other disciplines such as that of "genre," for example, not by avoiding them, but rather by blending them in one form or another into its theoretical framework. Thus semiotics has to dispose of solid heuristic categories, which can empower the specific notions of the various disciplines. 3.2
Categories of Textual Multimedial Semiotic Systems (Sy= tms)
The following is an attempt to classify some of the possible multimedial textual semiotic systems: -
FIGURAL(integral)-verbal(serial); VERBAL(serial)-figural(integral); FIGURAL(serial)-verbal(serial); VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(serial); VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(serial)-figural(integral); VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(integral).
The primary Sy=ts within each Sy=tms is indicated by capital letters. The specific type of connectedness of this Sy=ts would then be the prevalent form of connectedness for the system as a whole. I must specify that these multimedial textual systems have a historical conditioned origin, which means that further associations with the types mentioned above are possible, but I will limit my analysis to these.
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Categories of Multimedial Texts (or Textual Macro-Media)
For each Sy=tms I will draw up a specific list, trying to provide concrete examples of each as well. 3.3.1 FIGURAL(integral)-verbal(serial): "figural-integral dominated multimedial texts" This type of system is based on figural prevalence within the Sy=ts, using integral connectedness; which is to say, in simple terms, that this kind of textualization prefers pictures to words. Consequently the text is composed of an image which has the leading role in constructing the text's overall meaning, supported secondarily by verbal elements. Within this general type of system I see the following sub-types: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
chirographic-figural/chirographic-verbal: drawings, paintings, sketches, outlines, caricatures, etc., supported secondarily by hand-written verbal elements; chirographic-figural/typographic-verbal: drawings, paintings, sketches, outlines, caricatures, etc., supported secondarily by typographic verbal elements; photographic-figural/chirographic-verbal: photos of any genre or form, supported secondarily by hand-written verbal elements (e.g., a photo with a dedication); photographic-figural/typographic-verbal: photos of any genre or form, supported secondarily by typographic verbal elements; videographic-figural/videographic-verbal·. any type of image, supported secondarily by verbal elements, both produced through a video screen display.
3.3.2 VERBAL(serial)-figural(integral): texts "
"verbal-serial dominated multimedial
This type of system is based on verbal prevalence within the Sy=ts, using serial connectedness; meaning that the principle significatum consists of a semiotic verbal system, with the words interspersed with some figural representations, illustrations or pictures. Within this system there are: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
chirographic-verbal/chirographic-figural: any sort of hand-written text, supported secondarily by hand-drawn (or painted) illustrations or graphs; chirographic-verbal/photographic-figural: any sort of hand-written text, supported secondarily by photographic images; typographic-verbal/chirographic-figural: any type of typographic text, supported secondarily by hand-drawn (or painted) illustrations or graphs; typographic-verbal/photographic-figural: any type of typographic text, supported secondarily by photographic images; videographic-verbal/videographic-figurah any type of verbal material, supported secondarily by any form of picture or illustration, both produced through a video screen display.
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Concerning this type I must specify that such textual multimedial systems can be combined, by virtue of their very nature, with those outlined in 3.3.1; resulting in the following type of system: VERBAL(serial)-figural(integral)-[verbal(serial)]. 3.3.3 FIGURAL(serial)-verbal(serial): "figural-serial dominated multimedial texts " This type of system is based on figural prevalence within the Sy=ts, using serial connectedness. The text would thus be composed by images connected to each others in a serial succession. The verbal element here represents a secondary system, as is the case with subtitles in silent films or in silent cartoons. In this system we have: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
(f)
chirographic-figural/chirographic-verbal: silent cartoons with hand-written subtitles; cinematic-figural/typographic-verbal: silent films with subtitles; cinematic-figural/typographic-verbal/phonic-verbal: silent films or cartoons where the subtitles are also read by an external voice or narrator. chirographic-figural/typographic-verbal: silent cartoons with typeset subtitles; photographic-figural/chirographic-verbal: a series of photographs displayed together with a serial connection between them, with supporting handwritten text (e.g., a photo book relating to a given theater presentation, or a series of "stills" from a given film with notes written on/between them); photographic-figural/typographic-verbal: a series of photographs displayed together with a serial connection between them, with supporting typeset text (similar to the above, but with the notes typeset rather than hand-written). A further possible type is:
(g)
videographic-figural/videographic-verbal: an example would be the video games, particularly those defined adventures, where the virtual figuralaction is matched with by videographic-verbal notices and warnings, which can be considered as similar to the subtitles in the silent films.
3.3.4 VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(serial):"verbal-figural (serial) multimedial texts " This type presents a double serial parallel connectedness, where neither of the systems have prevalence over the other. This parallelism doesn't mean that there would be a point-by-point correlation, but that the serial movement of both would be reciprocally determined or interdependent. It would seem necessary then to analyze its construction within each type of text.
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In this system we have: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)
chirographic-figural/chirographic-verbal: comic strips and the like where the "balloons" are hand-written; chirographic-figural/typographic-verbal: comics strips and the like where the "balloons" are typeset; photographic-figural/typographic-verbal: photoplays; cinematic-figural/phonic-verbal: standard movies and cartoons; extra-kinesic-figural/phonic-verbal: any form of "live" theater without the use of background scenery (which I have placed in the following category).
3.3.5 VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(serial)-figural(integral): "verbal-figural(serial) dominated multimedial texts " This system has, in addition to the same elements as the previous one, the use of a figural Sy=ts with integral connectedness, although in a much lesser role in the construction of the significatum. This is the case with any type of theater utilizing scenery, which, in my opinion, constitutes a specific textual medium, which was created ad hoc for this type of Sy=tms and which I will call scenographic-figural. This system thus has the sole element of: (a)
extra-kinesic-figural/phonic-verbal/scenographic-figural.
3.3.6 VERBAL(serial)-FIGURAL(integral): multimedial texts "
"verbal-figural dominated verbal
This type can be considered as a variant of 3.3.2 with a bit stronger graphic emphasis, but I think it would be more a variant of 3.3.4, since in this case the figuralintegral connectedness follows the verbal-serial one. Anyway I have postulated the dominance of verbal system, because it gives to the text the possibility (through the serial connectedness) to have an undetermined length, which goes further any singular figural-integral representation. For this system: (a) (b) (c)
chirographic-verbal/chirographic-figural: for example comics with a chirographic lettering; typographic-verbal/chirographic-figural: comics with a typographic lettering; typographic-verbal/photographic-figural: for example advertising posters, full-page advertising in a newspaper or a magazine, etc.
4.
Future Perspectives: Towards A General Semiotic Theory of Multimedial Communication
4.1
Introduction
I believe that the expanded modeling process which semiotic textology makes possible gives us the chance, here barely explored, to develop a dynamic treatment of
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communication; and most of all, to take into account the complex games of connections which communication is made up of. The phenomenon of multimedial communication, however, appears to be more referred to and cited than actually investigated in this field; with research being limited to describing its surface aspects, without producing models and heuristic categories capable of describing such communication within a broader frame of reference. Addressing this sortcoming should be a priority in our field. My own contribution, I wish to emphasize, does not pretend to be an exhaustive model, but simply a line of research adopted to attempt to address some of the theoretical and methodological limitations abounding in semiotic studies. I have tried to re-sketch the outlines and characteristics of some of the main concepts and paradigms in semiotics and communication theory in order to make it possible to account for the concepts and paradigms actually involved functioning as the protagonists in the real process of communication, without losing sight of its theoretical aspects in the process. The procedure which I have kept in mind has been that of binding theory and praxis together in a circular interaction where they are continuously informing and verifying each other. In this sense, because of its pragmatic and non-universalistic perspective, semiotic textology offers the most concrete approach to the phenomenon of communication, having the possibility of forming relationships of reciprocal influence with all of the other disciplines operating in the field of communication. Such an approach, however, should not be allowed to degenerate into a form of pragmatism for its own sake (more specifically: into a system giving various prolix descriptions of concrete textual objects without investigating their basic semiotic communicative nature) but it should rather be used to build solid heuristic models by which one might analyze and investigate, so that in the end one could draw up explications and interpretations that would be consistent with the phenomenon revealed in the object. In consistency with what I have just said and with the theoretical framework which has emerged from my research expounded on in the preceding chapters I would like to briefly outline two guidelines for research which I personally consider to be of primary importance from the semiotic textological perspective towards building a general semiotic theory of communication; but which, given the interdisciplinary approach of semiotic textology, can be taken up in some specially adapted form by other disciplines researching communication as well. 4.2
More Exhaustive Modeling of Signification: Exploring the Roles of "Connectedness " and "Multimedial Semantic Organization "
On the basis of the considerations above, we can see a need to intensify theoretical efforts to produce a model for signification which would take its purpose and structure into account more clearly, especially in reference to concrete communicative praxis. Because of the difficulty in analyzing daily face-to-face communication, I consider the textological analysis of signification quite useful in this regard. The goal which would guide such analysis is to clarify the mechanisms and means of constructing complex significant wholes; those wholes which are not strictly reducible to word/sense associations. As far as my analysis goes, it is my firm opinion that the broadening and deepening of the notions connectedness and multimedial
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semantic organization would be a useful conceptual basis for trying to build a complex model of signification, which in turn would be useful for understanding the role of cognitive structures within various semiotic systems (or within various languages for that matter, if we would be willing to reconsider the Whorfian hypotheses). The connectedness of the semiotic elements constituting a text can in fact be different according to the particular connective ratio realized by the creator(s) of a text and re-created by the audience. Particular types of connectedness are the products of particular textual semiotic cultures, of textual custom as a whole and/or of textual rules of communication/signification. I think it would be possible to develop a scientific hypothesis concerning this semiotic property in order to use it heuristically in the analysis of semiotic differences (i.e., significatory and communicative ones), as well as in the study of intercultural communication. Such theoretical developments could have, in my opinion, major implications in other disciplines such as psychology, ethnography, sociology, psycholinguistics and linguistics itself. 4.3
A New Model for Communicative Relations: Moving from Monodirectional Sender/Receiver Thinking towards "Bipolar Communication "
Another theoretical effort which I would like to suggest concerns communicative relations. I believe that by abandoning the informational model, semiotics and communication theory would reap immediate benefits. The same applies to all those sciences and disciplines which conduct themselves with human beings, since communication is the essence of their daily praxis. If we consider that praxis only to be the transmission of information, we preclude the possibility of getting into the psychological, sociological and cultural dynamics of communication. Consider television for example: it isn't only an object which bombs us daily with information, but rather a technological partner with which we share (in a special kind of communicative relationship, which I have categorized as reduced bipolar communication) a great part of the day, and which modifies not only the sort of informational "baggage" that we carry around with us, but also the rhythm and habits of our daily lives. It has an influence on us which is hypothetically comparable (equal to? greater than? less than? similar to?) with that of human beings with which we have a day-to-day relationship (friend, sibling, spouse, etc.). It is in fact (for most of us) a cohabitant which enters into communication with us every day. Semiotics can, and in my opinion must, furnish a heuristic and descriptive framework able to take into account all of the factors involved in what we call communicative processes. In this sense, although my model has no pretension to be "the" model, I think that it provides a useful treatment of human communication, respecting its essential nature. In any case, it is evident that theoretical efforts in this direction are as necessary as ever, since we are taking part in a major transformation in the traditional contexts of communication (e.g., electronic communication through interactive television).
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Birdwhistell, R. L. Kinesics and Context. Harmondsworth: Penguin. 1973 Eco, U. 1968 La Struttura Assente. Milano: Bompiani. Fräser, C. 1978 "Communication in Interaction", in: Tajfel, Henri & Fraser, Colin (eds.), Introducing Social Psychology. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Hall, E.T. The Silent Language. New Yoric/Garden City: Doubleday & Company. 1956 Hall, E.T. The Hidden Dimension. Garden City: Doubleday. 1966 Hartley, R. V.L. 1928 'Transmission of Information", Bell System Technology issue no 7. MacKay, D. M. 1972 "Formal Analysis of Communicative Processes", in: Hinde, R. A. (ed.), Non Verbal Communication. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 3-25. Moles, A. A. 1988 Theorie Structurale de la Communication et Societi. 2nd edition. Paris/Milano/ Barcelona/Mexico: Masson. Petöfi, J. S. Text Connectedness from Psychological Point of View. Hamburg: Buske. 1985 Petöfi, J. S. 1988 La lingua come mezzo di comunicazione scritta: il testo. University di Urbino, Centre» Intemazionale di Semiotica e di Linguistica, Document! di lavoro e pre-pubblicaziom, serie A, n-n 173-175. Petöfi, J. S. "Constitution and Meaning: A Semiotic Text-Theoretical Approach", in: Petöfi 1989 et al. (eds.), Text and Discourse Connectedness. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 507-542. Petöfi, J. S. 1989/90 Verso una teoria e filosofia semiotica della comunicazione umana prevalentemente verbale, in "Annali della facoltä di Lettere e Filosofia dell'Universitä di Macerata", XXU-XXUI, 621-641. Petöfi, J. S. 1994/95 Die semiotische Textologie und die pragmatischen Aspekte der Kommunikation. (Entwurf). Petöfi, J. S. et al. (eds.) 1989 Text and Discourse Connectedness. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Poyatos, F. New Perspectives in Nonverbal Communication. Oxford/New York/Toronto/ 1983 Sydney/Paris/Frankfurt: Pergamon Press. Prieto, L. fctude de linguistique et de semiologie generates. Geneve: Librairie Droz S.A. 1975a Prieto, L. 1975b Pertinence et pratique. Essai de Semiologie. Paris: De Minuit. Shannon, C. & Weaver, W. 1959 [1949] The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Trabant, J. 1976 Elemente der Semiotik. München: Beck. Watzlawick, P. et al. 1967 Pragmatics of Human Communication. New York: Norton.
MAURI YLÄ-KOTOLA
The Philosophical Foundations of the Work of Film Director Jean-Luc Godard A study of French director Jean-Luc Godard (born 3 December 1930) as a media philosopher may strike the reader as surprising at first.1 However, before embarking on his career as a director, Godard was film theoretician for Cahiers du cinema, which is considered one of the most influential film journals of all time.2 Godard's work as a director is integrally based on the history and theory of film, the other arts and philosophy. Godard himself described the goal of his work as exploratory film, or research in the form of film.3 His films are not merely practical applications of a theory but philosophical studies in themselves.4 Throughout the 1960s, Godard was a popular director and an intellectual who kept well abreast of the times; he thus had a direct and substantial influence on an entire generation of people in media - journalists, directors, producers, photographers, lay-out artists, and editors.
1
The connection between Godard and philosophy has taken on a new currency in a surprising forum. In autumn 1995, Godard was awarded the Theodor W. Adorno Prize, granted by the city of Frankfurt am Main every three years. Previous recipients include the philosophers Norbert Elias and Jürgen Habermas. According to the Prize Committee, Jean-Luc Godard could be compared to Adonio "for his masterful command of his artistic material and his tireless reflection on film" (source: Lyhyesti [Aits in Brief] column of the newspaper Heisingin Sanomat, 12 June 1995). The similarities and differences in the thought of Adomo and Godard is one topic I deal with in my study Jean-Luc Godard mediafilosofina: rekonstruktio simulaatiokulttuurin lähtökohdista (University of Lapland 1998). On Godard and Adorno, see, e.g., Jean-Luc Godard: "Se vivre, se voir", Le Monde 30 March 1980. 2 James Monaco, How to Read a Film (1981: 330). When Godard was writing his first articles, the philosophy of film was by no means a well-established field of study. The first significant attempt in the French academic debate to sketch the outlines of film theory was Henri Agel's Esthetique du cinima (1957). Agel's book is a comprehensive account of the attempts to solve problems in film theory. 3 E.g., Jean-Luc Godard, Introduction ά une veritable histoire du cinima I (1980: 15, 179) ("film de recherche"). 4 An interesting treatment of a film as a philosophical presentation is Ian Jarvie's book Philosophy of the Film. Epistemology, ontology, aesthetics, which was published in 1987 (York University, Toronto). The central analysis in the beginning of Jarvie's work deals with the film Casablanca as philosophy. Jarvie reconstructs Citizen Kane as a philosophical study of the human being. The principal sources upon which Jarvie draws in the history of philosophy are Plato, Descartes, Kant, Russell and Popper. His major focal points in film theory are Andre Bazin and Hugo Münsterberg. Among the directors Jarvie looks in detail are Orson Welles, Akira Kurosawa, Ingmar Bergman and Woody Allen. Jarvie does not consider Godard specifically, although he does mention him twice in passing.
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One of Godard's teachers at the Sorbonne was the philosopher Brice Parain,5 a specialist in dialectical philosophy and, in particular, its linguistic applications. Parain's principal philosophical sources of inspiration were Plato, Pascal and Hegel. In his 1950 article "Pour un cinema politique,"6 Godard quotes the following statement from Parain's doctoral dissertation Recherches sur la nature et les fonctions du langage7, which appeared in 1942: "a sign compels us to come to terms with the significance of its referent."* Godard's later career as a theoretician and director can be viewed as a semiotic process, the pivotal concern of which, as in Parain's work, is the interrelationship of sign, meaning and the world.' In Godard's film Vivre sa vie,'0 Parain appears as himself, reflecting on the nature of language with Nana, a prostitute. Nana asks Parain why human beings cannot live without words. He explains that speaking is the same as thinking, thinking is the same as speaking, and there can be no life without thought. The problem is not so much one of speaking as compared to not speaking but of how to speak or think well. Parain elaborates his arguments with the story of Porthos, one of the Three Musketeers, who dies when he stops to think for the first time. The discovery of truth can be tragic, and truth is never achieved without error. A central element of Parain's philosophy is the identity of thought and language, that is, the way in which language shapes thought. He emphasized the importance of language to an extreme; it became almost a religious experience for him, the central stuff of life, our "flesh and blood" as human beings." Parain's emphasis on language can be seen clearly in the scene in Godard's film Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle'2 in which a child asks his mother: "Mother, what is
5
Brice Parain worked as an editor at the important Gallimard publishing house. In this capacity, he rejected Foucault's dissertation on the history of madness and Levi-Strauss' Anthropologie structurale. 6 Jean-Luc Godard, "Pour un cinema politique", La Gazette du cinema 3/1950. La Gazette du cinema was a journal dealing with film that was started jointly by Godard, Rivette and Rohmer and that appeared from May to November 1950. 7 Brice Parain, Recherches sur la nature et les fonctions du langage (1942: 99) (adapted). 8 James Monaco examines the significance of Parain's thought for Godard in his book The New Wave (1976: 104-105). » Most philosophical schools of thought deal with this issue; it is of particular importance to the post-structuralists. 10 Vivresa vie (Film en douze tableaux) 1962. 85 minutes. Written and directed by Jean-Luc Godard. Produced by Les Films de la Plei'ade. ' "Happy Talk," as described by Ron Powers (1977: 35), is an excellent example (and a very inane example for a Finn) of simulated conversation. Originated at WLS in Chicago in 1968, it simulated gossipy banter between news anchors or other talk-show personalities (also commonly seen on the Today Show). It was at first a trademark of ABC News but has now become a standard feature of practically all commercial newscasts on American commercial television. "Happy Talk" derives form the "bantering remarks made among anchormen, reporters, weathermen, and sports casters during transitions from topic to topic." It also serves to divert audiences from "abstract... disturbing... vital" topics which may weigh the newscast down or make it too complicated or dull. See Powers 1977; Fowler 1991: 62. Daniel Hallin (1987: 26-27) writes: "Television, it is said, is personal: the news is brought to us not by anonymous writers but by individuals selected in no small part for a persona that combines authority with likability. It is well known that polls once showed Walter Cronkite to be the most 'trusted' man in America. Television is also visual, people may feel that they are 'seeing it for themselves' on television. [...] unlike most newspaper reports, television stories tend to be tightly organized around a particular 'story line' or interpretation." is For a more detailed discussion of the background to these changes see Barnouw 1978: 47-60. Bamouw essentially traces this development from the quiz show scandals of the late 1950s. Public indignation after learning that commercial television was corrupt was one factor, among several, which led television executives to take more responsibility for programming, thereby shielding sponsors from direct accusations (such as in the case of Geritol and The $64,000 Question). Barnouw quotes CBS's president Stanton in this connection: "Since we are advertisersupported we must take into account the general objectives and desires of advertisers as a whole. An advertiser has very specific practical objectives in mind. He is spending a very large sum of
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strategies which were devised during radio days and therefore actually resembled more closely a stage production or, in the case of news, a Movietone newsreel. Usually there would be only one or two sponsors for a television play, variety show, or other program, and the sponsor would be identified, among audiences, directly with the show itself. The sponsor's commercial breaks, therefore, were inserted into the program at irregular and, most significantly, appropriate intervals. By "appropriate," we mean that commercials were timed to accommodate program content, and not the other way around. This system, known as the "gratitude factor," had the adverse effect, from the point of view of the sponsor, of making the sponsor appear to be directly responsible for the quality, the content and even the political inclinations of the show.14 Audience irritation over any matter concerning the content of the program, such as too many commercials in a variety show, or the political flavor of a particular television play, could appear in the form of letters sent in directly to the sponsor, lost sales in the marketplace - or, even worse, through audience product boycotts. Gradually, as production costs for the growing television industry began to rise, the "gratitude factor" was abandoned for "alternating sponsorships," which became the norm. ABC was the first to use two or more sponsors within only one segment of a program.15 A new production concept which centered around the selling of spots, or inserted commercial messages in programs produced by the networks or some anonymous independent producer was gradually developed. Live television was able to exploit the "magazine concept" on two of NBC's most successful weekday programs during the 1950s, Today and Jack Paar's Tonight show. Jack Paar's "style" of interviewing several witty, entertaining guests on stage, then leading them through carefully coordinated periods of light conversation, with a touch of music, sand-
money - often many millions of dollars - to increase his sales, to strengthen his distribution and to win public favor. And so in dealing with this problem, it seems perfectly obvious that advertisers cannot and should not be forced into programs incompatible with their objectives." According to Barnouw: "There was a simultaneous shift, continuing throughout the following decade, toward the purchase of spots instead of complete programs. Program costs, which rose to at least double those of the 1950s, were a factor in this. [...] Under the new system the network sought a comparable revenue from such a program by selling six 1 -minute insertions for around $70,000 each. For greater flexibility, the networks soon adopted the policy of letting each oneminute gap be used for two 30-second commercials. This meant that the sale of six minutes could result in as many as twelve 30-second commercials." (Beginning in 1970, the self-governing National Association of Broadcasters set 10 minutes of "non-program material" as the limit for prime time and 16 minutes of commercials for other broadcasting hours.) Most significantly, for our study, Bamouw notes (italics mine): "The system encouraged a dramaturgy full of intermediate climaxes, to create suspense for commercial breaks." And, as if anticipating the eventual study of the phenomenon, Bamouw points out (italics mine): "How else the spot-selling system might affect programming was not at once clear." 14 The General Electric Theatre, hosted by Ronald Reagan, was probably the most popular program using the "gratitude factor" during the 1950s. In fact, however, it seems that the McCarthyist witchhunts had some effect on decisions to change the above-mentioned network programming structures. Critical discourse research in this area, however, remains sparse, is Barnouw 1978: 47.
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wiched in between two commercials, represented the discovery of a breakthrough formula for commercial television's new selling concept. Sponsors loved the new, fast paced, "upbeat" style which emerged and, as Barnouw expressed it, "flocked to television." Many fortunes were won, especially in the drug and cosmetic businesses. Today, Paar's style of television discourse, which he helped pioneer, remains the model for modern commercial television talk shows." One advantage, among many, of this new format was that it seemingly endowed the television production with more momentum. As Jay Rosen once observed, on American television, the most important thing is to enforce, as he described it, "a higher imperative than free speech," which is "to keep things moving." On American commercial television, silence seems to be the exception rather than the rule, and for the most part, the meaning of silence is a negative one.17 4.
Concision: "You Can't Give Evidence if You 're Stuck with Concision. That s the Genius of This Structural Constraint.""
Producers of talk-show discourse on American commercial television are indeed obliged to keep things moving, not because Americans necessarily dislike pauses or short periods of silence in television programming, but because of the competitive nature of television programs which function to attract and hold audiences. Television writers and producers are compelled to compete vigorously in many media markets, often second-by-second, for audience market share, which will then translate into advertising revenues. The competition can offer similarly designed programs during the same time slot on up to 250 other channels, all available to audiences at the press of a remote control's button. It is therefore crucial, as Jay Rosen once put it, that TV programs be created in such a way that they "leave the recipient dumb struck by die force of the superlative as it rushes toward exhaustion."19 Commercial television, therefore, especially when competing in the marketplace with other commercial outlets, must arrange its style of discourse around attractive images which are designed to leave the program saturated with as much visual and verbal expressiveness as possible because, "where language falters in conveying the essence of the spectacular," claims Rosen, "the visuals take over."20 According to Columbia University's School of Journalism professors Edward Bliss and John Patterson, the writer for broadcast television must be able to present information "in the fewest number of words," which means, "boiling down a flood
16
The "magazine concept," while very popular in the United States, has now been discovered by commercial broadcasters all over Europe. The Finnish commercial channel, for example, has developed a program (Anteeksi kuinka?) which is virtually a copy of the Jay Leno (Tonight) Show. Gottschalk, on Germany's RTL, is another example of how the same formula was applied to television broadcasting within another culture. " Rosen 1991. is Ibid, ι» Ibid. 20 Noam Chomsky interview in Manufacturing Consent.
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of information into a concise meaningful trickle." Other textbook authors have made the same suggestion. The all-important rule for the broadcast television writer is: "Be concise." 21 Jeff Greenfield has labeled the style of talk used on many American public affairs television programs "concision." For Chomsky, however, concision has a much broader meaning than that suggested by textbook authors. For Chomsky, concision functions to "constrain" free speech by compelling television talk show guests to conduct themselves within certain prescribed parameters which are, for the most part, found within the commercial broadcasting environment and characteristically serve to measure and restrict a speaker's ability to speak freely. The parameters of the soundbite, for example, function as one measure, standard or criterion, among many, which tests the ability o f politicians to "project" their chosen "images" to T V audiences. 22 Chomsky has also imparted the term "concision" with a distinctly political dimension, one whose definition has yet to be explored. 23 This political dimension o f Chomsky's suggests that any discussion of discourse, when it comes to American television, must transcend a mere analysis of language based on discourse and grammatical rules. Chomsky is accusing American commercial television of purposely constraining free speech through its discourse style. Concision, so he claims,
21
According to the authors Bliss and Patterson from the prestigious Columbia Graduate School of Journalism: '"Write tight!' is the most common injunction heard in a broadcast newsroom. You must tell your stories in the fewest number of words. It means, as one news director has said, "boiling down a flood of information into a concise meaningful trickle." See Bliss & Patterson 1978: 101. Quotation is from Chapter 9, "Keeping it Short." See also Newsom & Wollert 1985: 51-68. (Chapter 4, "Writing with Clarity and Style.") 22 The soundbite has also made its debut in Finland. According to the Heisingin Sanomat (see Koski 1995) the Finnish Prime Minister, Paavo Lipponen, is taking advantage of the soundbite. 23 This political dimension is indeed relevant to and closely tied to the development of commercial broadcasting. In the 1950s, during American television's formative years, conservatives consolidated their power when the Republican Party won a majority in both houses of the U.S. Congress in 1948 and proceeded to dismantle most of Roosevelt's liberal domestic programs. Some very distorted accusations began to appear in public discourse from the far right, mostly about individual Roosevelt administrative officials who, as a group, came increasingly under attack by conservatives in both political parties. Incidentally, union membership in America was still quite large in the 1950s, a result of the successes of the labor and the labor legislation enacted during the Roosevelt years, but the Taft-Hartley Act effectively invalidated liberal New Deal reforms which allowed workers to strike and to organize legally. The Taft-Hartley Act was a legislative measure which was aimed specifically at restraining the more radical rank-and-file union membership, as well as the politically organized, and reversing the essential gains made by labor through the passage of the Wagner Act. As a result, a distinct effort was made to isolate and discipline leftist militants and others who were politically active. ("The first big break in the atmosphere of repression came with the passage of the Wagner Act in 1935 which guaranteed workers the right to organize and strike. The Supreme Court upheld the law in 1937." According to Gus Hall, active in steel organizing, "Up until then, you would stand at the gate, maybe sign up one or two. Workers would not talk to you. When the Wagner Act passed, the next morning they lined up for blocks to sign for the union. The union was legal. It was a totally different ballgame." [Winebrenner 1994])
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is a tool which can be arbitrarily applied by broadcasters to limit a broader discussion of ideologically charged issues.24 Neil Postman is of the opinion that American television distorts meaning through its discourse style, but his concerns reflect more precisely those of an educator. Postman notes that Americans, on average, spend more time in front of their television sets than any other people in the world and the discourse strategies learned from television for acquiring knowledge and information have considerable influence over the kind of knowledge and the amount of knowledge Americans retain.
" There is sufficient evidence to suggest that the American media, including television, were deeply involved in the political "witchhunts," the character assassinations and the blacklisting of the 1950s. This includes, as well, the attack on labor, which can be more easily understood by looking at the events of the 1930s, a time in which the American Communist Party became one of the most active and militant of all political groups involved in union organizing. There is no doubt that the American communists were a presence to be dealt with in American society, and by the end of World War II and the allied victory over fascism, the communist presence in the CIO (Congress of Industrial Organizations) was virtually taken for granted. Communist functionaries made their positions and prestige felt within the CIO, in much the same way that communists were active in European unions after the Second World War. The Communist Party remained strong until a combination of Taft-Hartley, McCarthyist hysteria and revelations of Stalinist atrocities in the Soviet Union destroyed its influence and effectiveness. (For viewpoints expressed by the American Communist Party, see Foster 1936,1956.) The media's role in anti-communist rhetoric began with Churchill's speech, in Fulton Missouri, where he compared Stalin's Russia with Hitler and Fascism. (See the film Origins of the Cold War by Peter G. Boyle, distributed by the British Universities Film Council, Ltd., London.) The Fulton speech was soon followed by President Harry S. Truman and the introduction of the loyalty oath in 1947 which was required from all federal employees. A year later, in 1948, the Marshall Plan was created to insure that socialists would not get the upper hand in European politics and the economy. In America, during the summer of 1948, twelve members of the Communist Party were tried and sent to jail under the Smith Act, a law which was originally intended to keep out German spies. These events, which were reported extensively and sensationalized in the media, including early television, seemed to come in rapid-fire fashion, and hastened the creation of a new more repressive climate in American society, one quite different from that which existed during the Roosevelt era, one which, with all its shortcomings, was still a time of relative consensus, and a period in which Americans, for the most part, felt that they were pulling together in the fight against poverty and fascism. (These feelings were expressed based on personal observations of the Roosevelt years by the noted scientist Freeman J. Dyson who worked with J. Oppenheimer on the development of the first Atomic Bomb. From an interview in the documentary film: The Day after Trinity. Produced and directed by Jon Else; written by David Peoples, Janet Peoples, and Jon Else. Santa Monica, CA: Pyramid Film & Video 1980.) The sudden shift to public anticommunist accusations and a cold war mentality in the media was certainly difficult for most Americans to fully comprehend. This was especially true for those who made sacrifices during the war years for the national "war effort." As the American media reported that the United States was planning to give $400 million in military aid to stabilize Greece and Turkey, and to protect them from an internal takeover by leftist forces, who were former allies against the fascists, it is not difficult to understand the suspicions among the American public concerning such lavish spending in far-away places. Nor is it surprising that most Americans were opposed to the additional tax burden these programs would demand. (Agee 1991; see also Gaddis 1972) See also Mark Achbar and Peter Wintonick's film, Noam Chomsky and the Media, Part II, "Activating Dissent"
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Children, for example, learn from watching television and by doing what "viewing requires of them," says Postman. The reading of written texts, on the one hand, and watching television, on the other, are two activities which "differ entirely in what they imply about learning."25 The key element, however, according to Postman, is advertising. Postman goes so far as to claim that there is a "symbiotic relationship" between commercial television and advertising which has caused Americans to become "the least knowledgeable people in the industrial world."26 Whether commercial television and advertising can actually cause audiences to become less "knowledgeable" remains to be proven, a task which lies beyond the aims of this study.27 Still, Postman, like Chomsky, Halliday et al., points to commercial broadcasting's discourse style as being in some way "different."28 Postman attributes this difference to the "philosophy of television commercials," and also points out that this style of discourse is taken for granted by Americans and considered to be "a normal and plausible form of discourse."29 Postman offers some interesting insights into the search for the components which combine to create this American commercial news style. For instance, he points to the discourse strategies incorporated into argumentation in commercial television programs, strategies which cannot generally be used in print. These discourse strategies include the utilization of "vivid visual symbols," or images, which are combined with sound to create "short and simple messages" that do not engage the viewer in "wondering about the validity of the point being made."30 It is indeed interesting to consider the possibility that the arguments contained within the style of discourse are able to influence the viewer to the degree that a statement's accuracy and precision become totally irrelevant.31 The "truth or falsity" of claims made on television "is simply not an issue," claims Postman, and the interconnectedness of events and relevance of such things as history or economics are left unclear because of the arduous demands of this particular format. The discourse style used on commercial television is one which proceeds "without context," and even argues the "irrelevance of history," and explains nothing.32
25 Postman 1986: 144-145. A "symbiotic relationship" in this sense refers to a certain mutual dependence between the commercial, which is shown on television, and the actual content of the television program. Postman & Powers 1992, see back cover. 27 Some critics, indeed, are skeptical of popularizing the commercial style through the electronic media and warn that American commercial television has indeed become a standard-setting "cultural filter" which our society will use to "classify and evaluate every aspect of our world." This ritualized formula, some critics claim, can shape, color, and even distort our perceptions, thoughts, and emotions - frequently at deep sub-cognitive or pre-conscious levels. 2» Halliday & Mcintosh & Strevens 1964. 2» Bamouw has pointed out that the American television program Rowan & Martin's Laugh-in became something of a model for other television programs, including MTV, because of its pace and resemblance to a commercial. This point was also discussed on Larry King Live in an interview with one of the creators of Laugh-in. 30 Dellinger 1995. Consider also (discussed in Chapter 7 of the same book) CNN's framing of the Persian Gulf War. 31 For a more detailed discussion of style as argument, see Anderson 1987. 3 2 Postman 1986: 77.
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Concision: A Closer Look
Chomsky's claims originate from a term which he adopted from Jeff Greenfield of ABC's Nightline. Greenfield, in a radio interview, has explained how television producers choose their guests to appear on commercial news programs. According to Greenfield, it is essential for guests "...to be able to talk on television... That's a standard that's very important, to us. If you've got a 22-minute show, and a guy takes 5 minutes to warm up, now... he's out."33 Greenfield's program, Nightline, has also been the object of a detailed study made by Fair and Accuracy in Reporting (see Hoynes & Croteau 1989). In FAIR'S study, it was found that most of Nightline's guests were government or corporate professionals, the overwhelming majority of whom were white men. It is significant that Nightline's guests appear on multiple occasions, which is not exceptional among other American news-oriented talk programs. More significantly, and also typical of other political affairs programs in the United States, Nightline draws from a pool of "regulars," including such "experts" as Henry Kissinger who, FAIR has discovered, appears on the program several times a year." Concerning the criteria used when choosing guests to appear on American commercial television programs, Greenfield explained that: ...one of the things you have to do when you book a show is know that the person can make the point within the framework of television, and if people don't like that, they should understand it is about as sensible to book somebody who will take eight minutes to give an answer as it is to book somebody who doesn't speak English. But, in the normal given flow, ...we also need concision...35
Greenfield is, therefore, describing the phenomenon which he has named "concision." Concision, according to Greenfield, means that guests appearing on commercial television must also be endowed with certain capabilities, which include the ability to "make the point within the framework of television." That framework is what he calls the "normal given flow" of television. American commercial television requires, therefore, "that... you must meet the condition of concision. You've got to say things between two commercials, or in 600 words."36 The "given normal flow" of a commercial television news program requires that all guests be in the possession of the verbal competence to make their point within the time assigned, between the commercials, and in a few hundred words or less. Often, as Chomsky explains, it is rare that anyone would be in the possession of such communicative competence: ...that's a very important fact, because the beauty of concision... is, that you can only repeat conventional thoughts. Suppose you say something [on television] which just isn't regurgitating conventional pieties. Suppose you say something that is the least bit unexpected, or controversial...
33
From Mark Achbar and Peter Wintonick's film, Noam Chomsky and the Media, Part II, "Activating Dissent" Jeff Greenfield ofABC's popular public affairs program Nightline was interviewed on a radio station in Madison, Wisconsin. μ Hoynes & Croteau 1989. 35 Jeff Greenfield of ABC's Nightline as recorded in the film Manufacturing Consent. 34 Noam Chomsky, speaking in the documentary film Manufacturing Consent.
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people will quite reasonably expect to know what you mean. "Why did you say that?"... "If you said that, you'd better have a reason." ... You can't give evidence if you're stuck with concision...37
6.
Cued Spontaneity
One may therefore define concision as a strategy used in public discourse, particularly in commercial television, which constrains the speaker in such a way that he/ she must concisely express an idea within a very limited time frame. If Chomsky is correct, however, there is more to this concept than just the ability to make your point and beat the clock. Primeau mentions the "rhetorical arrangement" of the words spoken on "high-priced air-time segments" of commercial television. Concision, therefore, is much more than just being concise, it is a way of talking which "seems to be spontaneity," and at the same time allows "a precise allocation of expensive time frames that must produce ratings to warrant the cost."38 For example, CNN's popular political affairs program, Crossfire, has adopted a format which skillfully illustrates concision as a style of discourse. Crossfire can also be used to demonstrate the functioning and consequence of concision. Concision, as it is used on Crossfire, is a discourse style which is no longer the exception, but is becoming more and more the rule for television talk shows and other public affairs programming in the United States. It is becoming implicitly accepted by American audiences to be a style of television discourse which is used in television talk, and it is a style which is not difficult to accept because it has been used in commercials and is now applied to other programs as well. Although we are discussing talk shows and public affairs programs, visuals and music definitely play a major role while camera functions are successfully exploited, using such expressive techniques as close-ups of faces to emphasize emotions, or long shots to show group interactions.39 Crossfire's "television talk" is designed to be as attractive to living room audiences as a party with friends, and lonely or bored viewers are made to feel as if they were invited to join in the fun. To be able to entertain and "get your point across" within the "given normal flow" of commercial television - and say everything before the next commercial break - demands many of the same skills which are used in cueing.40 The ability, or talent, to express oneself successfully and entertainingly within this seemingly informal format is understandably a valuabe and, in regards to the market for television guests, a much sought after skill. Television talk and "cued spontaneity," to combine Fowler's and Primeau's terms, has been unfavorably contrasted by Postman with what he terms "the typographical mind," which according to his definition was a common and even "natural" state among Americans, one which existed be-
37
From the film Manufacturing Consent. 3» Primeau 1979: 223. 35 The style is commonly used on CNBC's fast-paced Money Wheel and other "lighter" political affairs programs. 40 See Fowler's definition above.
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fore there was commercial journalism. Postman's contention is, in essence, that American culture, in contrast to some other cultures, is dominated by an implicitly accepted style of public discourse in which public discussions are modeled after those used in commercial television. For example, "In a culture dominated by print," he explains, "public discourse tends to be characterized by a coherent, orderly arrangement of facts and ideas," a process which "encourages rationality." Truth, however, "is intimately linked to the biases of forms of expression." Since "entertainment" has become the "supra ideology of all discourse on television," it is largely aimed at "emotional gratification," a "visual delight" to see, and has made "entertainment the natural format." "Entertainment," therefore, is the main goal, according to Postman. "There is no conspiracy," only "good television."41
7.
Confronting Finnish Expectations
Finnish audiences are not yet accustomed to American commercial television's "flow," and when confronted with this style of television presentation, as seen on satellite and cable, Finns react to the more obvious structural differences. These differences, sometimes perceived by audiences as pace and rhythm, can be a result of verbal expression or other paralinguistic and kinesic phenomena, such as the lack of pauses, interruptions or simultaneous talk, shouts, music, exotic or attractive images, as well as other editing phenomena.42 "In Finnish culture," according to authors Laaksovirta and Farnell, "silence is an act in itself." To consciously permit periods of silence in a conversation demonstrates wisdom and reflection on the topic. In Finland, one "comprehends" silence as a linguistic "act." In college seminars, the authors point out, it would be a sign of "impoliteness" for listeners to make unsolicited comments during the professor's presentation. Silence "is an everyday thing; there is no mystery in silence" and, for the most part, the "meaning" of silence, in Finnish culture, is "mainly positive."43
4
' Postman 1986: 44-63, 83-88. The message is often very clear indeed, however. Teun A. van Dijk, in commenting on the "relevance of style and rhetoric," underscores the importance of "sentence patterns that organize" words used to implement "special verbal ploys... that help catch the reader's attention, and which therefore are primarily used with a persuasive aim." (van Dijk 1991:209) 42 For a detailed discussion of many cross-cultural aspects of communication, including kinesics and paralanguage, see Poyatos 1988. For specific examples, see the transcript of Crossfire (below) in which the opening sequence of a supposedly serious, politically oriented, internationally received debate is treated in a manner similar to the opening sequence of an entertainment program, such as The Muppet Show. « Laaksovirta & Farnell 1992: 107-118. It is interesting, for Finns wishing to lecture abroad, and Americans who have lectured in Finland, to read the advice given by the American syndicated columnist "Miss Manners," from the American point of view, of course: Subject: Will questions offend a lecturer? Miss Manners: Kindly members of any audience should [...] be prepared with at least one allpurpose question, in case none other is asked. Something along the lines of, "I was fascinated with your last point - 1 wonder if you would care to elaborate about how it particularly applies to the problems of the day."
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Our investigation attempts to benefit from the fact that Finnish television audiences are, for the time being, implicitly accustomed to a television format which uses a form of discourse closely related to written Finnish. Public discourse in Finland therefore, because of traditions more firmly rooted in the written word, tends to be more "formal" than the public discourse used in commercial television news programs in the United States.44 Finnish society, as far as its use of discourse in the public sphere is concerned, for the time being and with many exceptions, resembles Postman's concept of a culture "dominated by print." Although the actual effects of this style of discourse are difficult if not impossible to measure, this study assumes that on Finnish public television (YLE) discussions of a serious and national relevance can be (as Postman describes it) "characterized by a coherent, orderly arrangement of facts and ideas."49 Using this implicit understanding and expectation of style in public discussions as a basis, the Finnish interpretation of Greenfield's "given normal flow," and thus a clearer picture of the meaning of "concision," should be forthcoming.
8.
The Finnish Audience
To construct a cross-cultural definition of "concision," the assistance of forty Finnish university students was obtained from the Faculty of Education at Turku University. The object for viewing was CNN's Crossfire, which at the time of our study could be seen live on cable or satellite in Finland five times weekly. Tlie students who consented to be a part of this study had successfully completed at least ten years of English in school and had taken one or two courses in English comprehension and conversation at university level, as provided by the faculty.44 Information was elicited by means of a series of intensive interviews in which each participant was queried individually and asked to comment on as many For Germans wishing to hear American lecturers speak, the following advice from "Miss Manners," would also be useful: Miss Manners: Also rude in the question period are lengthy statements that do not actually contain a question, and may not even be relevant to the topic of the speaker. People with whole lectures to give must try to book their own podiums. Rudeness, in certain situations therefore, seems to be culturally defined. (Received from the UPI on August 6, 1994.) 44 Finnish television programs, according to one unpublished study presented by Riikka Levoranta in the University of Turku's Language Centre's English Oral Skills language course, has traditionally had a more even mixture of news, current affairs programs and entertainment, in which current affairs was dominant. On American television, in contrast, entertainment has traditionally dominated most programming. This trend is, however, changing rapidly in Finland. See also Levo-Henriksson 1991. « There is of course a veiy good case for arguing that this system, even on the Finnish YLE, is changing rapidly. The recent political campaigns are excellent examples, as well as other programming on the public channels. See Isotalus 1994; Sallinen 1994. « All students of education are normally required to take a one-hour weekly semester course in English reading comprehension and a one-hour weekly semester course in English oral skills. Some students, those planning to specialize as elementary school English teachers, are required to take more hours in English-language studies.
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aspects of the broadcast as possible. Participants in this study were interviewed in groups of twos and threes, with each interview lasting from 15 to 25 minutes. The object, as before, was not only to elicit individual replies from participants, but to view Crossfire together with the group and then allow the group to describe for me their impressions, while giving as much information as possible. In this study, as before, the use of a Finnish audience provides a useful opportunity to discuss cross-cultural differences with people who have had limited exposure to American commercial news. Reliance on public-service broadcasting, and its style of discourse, for public information made this possible. Participants in this study were also attending the obligatory English oral skills course within the faculty of education, which made the use of longer interviews in English possible, as a part of the students' language studies. Later, other students in subsequent semesters reviewed these responses and were asked to make comments as well concerning the validity of the observations. Participants in the initial viewing were encouraged to draw independent conclusions about Crossfire and its style of debate. It was requested that participants discuss the program with others in the group during the class meeting only. The interviews had few constraints, other than the ability of the students to offer information. The students were attending their second and third years as full-time students, and the average age was 25 (equivalent to graduate-level study in the United States). No one had actually seen Crossfire before. This can be explained by the program's late scheduling and the fact that, although the majority of students do have access to basic cable, CNN does cost extra. After the viewing, most stated that they had "only minor problems" understanding the talk on Crossfire. This particular edition of Crossfire was hosted by Michael Kinsley, who is presented as representing the "liberal" position on the topics presented for debate, and Pat Buchanen, best known for his "conservative" views as well as his political aspirations in the Republican Party. On this particular program, however, John Sununu, a well-known member of the Bush administration, was taking Buchanen's place as the representative of the conservative side. The program's guests were Kim Gandy (introduced as this edition's "liberal" and "feminist"). Gandy is also spokesperson for the National Organization for Women (NOW), America's largest and most prestigious women's organization. Janet Parshall appeared as the "conservative" guest, a representative of Concerned Women for America. Both guests were obviously experienced and able when it came to expressing and defending their opinions within the "given normal flow" of Crossfire, and both were considered therefore appropriate examples for giving more substance to our cross-cultural definition of "concision." Crossfire's format, as with most programs of this type which appear on commercial television, consists of a teaser, which trails the last part of the preceding program, just before the half hour, followed by commercials and, in the United States, possibly a break for station identification (if the program is carried by a local station, or CNN's logo is shown). There were also commercials on CNN International, but during the "station break," Finnish viewers mostly saw advertisements for CNN (in this case Sumo wrestlers) demonstrating that Japan is "one of 210 countries and territories where you can watch CNN International."
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Crossfire
The total time allotted to Crossfire's guests before the first commercial break was only ten minutes, which is more than most commercial television programs of this nature.47 Kim Gandy, the "liberal" and "feminist" spoke for a total of 6 minutes and 5 seconds. Janet Parshall, the "conservative," spoke for 3 minutes and 55 seconds. The actual time frame used for this edition of Crossfire is broken down as follows:
[Preceding program]
Teaser (about Crossfire)
Station break/commercials
Start
>
20 sec 25 sec 50 sec 20 sec Total: (1 min 55 sec)
Two unnamed "liberals" and conservatives speak Announcer's introduction with music Mike's introductory monologue John's shorter introduction
3 min. 20 sec 3 min. 0 sec 2 min. 45 sec 55 sec Total: (10 min.)
John interviews Kim Mike interviews Janet John interviews Kim Mike interviews Janet
End —>
John announces a commercial break and teases the TV audience for the next segment
8 sec
Total: 12 min. 3 sec commercials48
47
48
Compare the Today show, for example, where even less time is given to guests. Our audience was only shown the first half of Crossfire. The second half of Crossfire was not included for analysis.
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"Excitement Governed by Order "
Crossfire begins with short takes of unidentified "liberals," American political personalities, the first of whom states emphatically: "Sexual harassment should be taken seriously. What we are not doing is rising to the right wing's bait which says that we have to take one side or the other." The "liberal" was followed by an unidentified "conservative" (in this case former Vice President Quayle) saying, "It's harmful, it's sad, it's debilitating to the White House and operations to the office of the President itself...," who followed by fast-paced music with a heavy background beat, crescendoing up to the announcer's excited pronouncement: Announcer: (SHOUTS) (voice-over) Live! (followed by more music) From Washington! (more music) Crossfire! (more music) On the left: Mike Kinsley. On the Right: John Sununu. (more music) Tonight: Role Reversal! In the crossfire: Kim Gandy, Executive Vice President of the National Organization for Women... (Gandy's picture is shown on the screen) And: Janet Parshall, spokeswoman for Concerned Women for America. (Parshall's picture is shown on the screen) (music ends)
Commentary:49 Primeau refers us to Daniel Menaker who has shown how commercial television programs structure their openings in order to communicate "excitement governed by order." "The tone... usually communicates intensity and excitement," as well as the feeling that things are under control and structured, "what otherwise seem chaotic." Under such circumstances, says Primeau, "major events and trivial occurrences can often be reduced or raised to the same status."50 Mike Kinsley (SO seconds): Good evening, and welcome to Crossfire! Who are the biggest hypocrites of the Paula Jones affair? Is it liberals and feminists? Three years ago they rallied around Anita Hill when she made her charges of sexual harassment against Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas. Now they distance themselves from Paula Jones who makes similar charges against President Clinton. Or is it conservatives? They were outraged and contemptuous when Anita Hill told her naughty stories about their man Clarence Thomas, but they gleefully support Paula Jones with her lurid tales about their nemesis Bill Clinton. Both sides say there are differences between Anita Hill and Paula Jones, but they disagree about what those differences are. Is anyone in Washington playing this one straight? Or are we all mired in hypocrisy and double standards? (Present company excepted, of course!) 4» "Commentary," in this section, refers to my own remarks and explanations, not those of the students, which will appear below, so Primeau 1979: 143. See als Menaker 1972.
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Commentary: The theme is "sexual harassment," but the stated purpose of the debate is not to establish whether sexual harassment is a good or a bad practice. John Sununu, a conservative, makes it clear from the beginning that sexual harassment should not be tolerated. The purpose of this debate is to question the credibility of "liberals and feminists," who presumably backed Anita Hill (in her testimony against Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas) and now oppose giving a hearing to Paula Jones in her accusations of sexual harassment against President Clinton; and "conservatives," who opposed Anita Hill's accusations against Justice Thomas, but now support Paula Jones. "Mike," in his opening speech, implies that there are only two sides to the political spectrum in Washington ("Both sides...") and only two sides in the whole country, for that matter (liberals and conservatives - as represented by those present on Crossfire). He also states that both are lying. Both sides are being hypocritical, or at least "not playing this one straight." The stated aim of this debate, therefore, is to expose which side is lying "the most." The title of this particular episode of Crossfire is: "Hypocrites of the Paula Jones Affair," subtitled: "Can anyone be trusted? Are we all hypocrites?" The verbal ploys prevailing in the introduction to the debate, including most statements by the hosts, Mike and John, assume that "we" includes "hypocrites," "those in Washington," and even Crossfire itself! "Feminists" are "liberals" and they, together with "conservatives" are "all mired in hypocrisy." Liberals and feminists, according to this reasoning, are hypocrites because they supported Anita Hill three years ago and now they do not support Paula Jones. Conservatives are also hypocrites because they were outraged over Anita Hill for telling her "naughty stories." Now, they "gleefully" support Paula Jones and her "lurid tales." The topic, therefore, seems to reflect an ideology which has a rather narrow and cynical - view of the American political spectrum, which, accordingly, consists of only "liberals" and "conservatives" - all hypocrites. This reflected ideology also re-enforces the concept that "we" (namely "liberals" and "conservatives") are all to blame. We are the hypocrites, and that, really, no one, especially in today's Washington, is to be trusted. (See Finnish expectations in the discussion of liberals, conservatives, and feminists, below.)
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Our excerpts, printed here, are taken verbatim from the first half of Crossfire. (See the time chart above.) Some segments, however, have been cut from this transcript. These cuts are marked as: John Sununu (CONTINUING): .. .the issue is, that it looks like, now, the National Organization for Women really does think that only conservative public figures ought to be charged and attacked publicly for doing this terrible thing to women in the work place, and at least suggest a philosophical bias or perhaps even a partisan bias.
Kim Gandy (SMILING): John, your nose is growing, even as we speak! John: Not at all!!! (SMILES)
Commentary: The use of first names, the constant smiles, especially between political opponents, got the attention of our Finnish audience. "Either these people on Crossfire are not political opponents, or they are pretending," was a typical reaction among the participants interviewed. "John, your nose is growing, even as we speak!" seemed so absurd in a television debate that it evoked open laughter from the Finnish audience. Kim: As you well know, we have taken the most consistent position of any party which is involved in this. We have always taken the position that sexual harassment ought to be taken seriously, and women who make charges of sexual harassment ought to be listened to - but that both sides are entitled to a fair trial. As you know, in the Anita Hill case, we took no position until after both Anita Hill and Clearance Thomas had testified - we found her testimony... credibleJohn (INTERRUPTS): ...Immediately after her statement you came out with a positionKim (INTERRUPTS): It was only after testimony was completed... she was not involved in an on-going court case that was going to have a judge and jury involvedJohn: That was her first public statement and within 24 hours, if I'm not mistaken, it might have been 48 hours, you came out with a statement supporting Anita Hill...
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Kim (INTERRUPTS): You're absolutely wrong about (JOHN INTERRUPTS) that! It was at least two months after her initial statement... John (SHOUTS): ...no, no, no... her public statement... at the hearings... John: The first time she personally spoke publicly. Kim (STILL SMILING... INTERRUPTS... SPEAKS SIMULTANEOUSLY): After the televised hearings....
John (INTERRUPTS; SHOUTING): The first time... she spoke publicly... you immediately came out with a statement! Miss Jones has spoken publicly on this thing now. Why don't you come out with a statement?
Commentary: The shouts, the interruptions and the general level of rudeness astonished our Finnish audience. Others called attention to the eye contact between discussion participants, and stated that, "On Finnish television, the guests would be looking into the camera... to evoke the acceptance of the television audience." In the case of Crossfire, the guests seemed to know each other rather well and they ignored the television camera. Kim (BREAKS IN OVER JOHN'S INTERRUPTIONS): The other kind of little revisionist history that's going on here is the story that Ms. Parshall started earlier today on Sonya Live, where she said that Anita Hill was a liberal feminist! Well! Those of us who remember a little bit about what was going on there know that Anita Hill was a conservative law professor... (LAUGHTER FROM AROUND THE TABLE)... who served in the Reagan... and Bush administrations, and that she was.... (INTERRUPTIONS ARE HEARD FROM A LAUGHING JANET PARSHALL) John (INTERRUPTS, WHILE SHOUTING AND REPEATING): ...And followed the man she accused aroundfromjob to job! (MORE LAUGHTER FOLLOWS) Kim (SHOUTS WHILE SPEAKING SIMULTANEOUSLY): She was a supporter of Robert Bork! Now, if that makes her a lib... (INTERRUPTIONS)..eral (KIM BREAKS OUT LAUGHING) symp(athizer)... (INCOHERENT SHOUTING FROM ALL SIDES....) John (AT FIRST SHOUTING OVER THE UPROAR): ... Hold on!... (UNINTELLIGIBLE)... the credibility of, of... of whether or not he would support or not support, is to look at the actions of the woman that makes the statement. Anita Hill followed the man she accused from job to job. Miss Jones immediately rejected the advances and came out and told people... is that a significant difference?
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Commentary: Kim consistently interrupts John and constantly ignores most of John's questions only answering his questions directly when he seems to be getting the upper hand, as if in a game. Janet speaks in machine-gun fashion, rarely allowing Mike to break in. In fact, Mike, one of the hosts - and one of the regulars - is the slowest to get his point across. Try as he will to get a word in edgewise, Janet is always there with a fast reply. This adds to the definition of concision and Greenfield's "normal given flow," which must mean that not one single second of airtime is allowed to be left unused, and in this sense, Kim is especially good at speaking with concision, in the Greenfieldian sense, while to the surprise of our Finnish audience, John never appears to be angered by Kim's rudeness. A smile rarely leaves the faces of the concision combatants, who are all, no doubt, veterans of the TV talkshow circuit. Mike (OVER SHOUTS FROM KIM AND JOHN, TURNS THE FOCUS OF THE DEBATE FROM KIM TO JANET): Janet (KIM AND JOHN STILL TALKING AT THE SAME TIME): ...I remember... I remember conservatives when Anita Hill made her charges being absolutely furious. We have night after night here on Crossfire, saying, "This is disgusting, this woman's a liar, this woman's a hussy, we don't believe her for a moment. She's tarring this public man unfairly. This whole thing is a circus." Now, with Paula Jones, conservatives are actually complaining that the media weren't giving it enough attention... (UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)... charge her more. Isn't there a hypocrisy on your side of the argument, too?
Janet (SMILES): Mike, there's a wonderful saying in the world of music, that says, "Timing is everything." Anita Hill brought forth her charges, and might I point out to you that the dramatic difference between Anita Hill and between Paula Jones is that Anita, who was a law professor and knew what remedies were available to her, did not file a lawsuit. She knew that's what she could have done, and she really could have gotten some damage collection out of it, but... she didn't do that! Mike (INTERRUPTS): Paula Jones also didn't file a lawsuit 'til the statutes already... (MORE INTERRUPTIONS...) Janet (SHOUTS; INCOHERENT SHOUTS COME FROM AROUND THE TABLE): ...She filed a lawsuit only after American Spectator magazine took her name and said, "Okay, now we're going to run it through the mud a little bit." But she said: "Whoa, Whoa!!" Mike (INTERRUPTS): .... (GARBLED) ...President Clinton for the American Spectator magazine...
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Commentary: Margaret McLaughlin, in her book, Conversation: How Talk is Organized, has made a detailed analysis of conversational interaction.51 She points out that conversation, as opposed to narrative, includes the all-important element of interaction, where the roles of the speaker and hearer are frequently exchanged. Debate, however, in contrast to conversation, is characterized by a predetermined size and order in which the discussion takes place (emphasis mine). In the case of Crossfire, the lack of a chairperson, and the relative freedom of guests to speak up at any time, makes the talk into conversation, as if it were an informal discussion at home around the kitchen table or in your living room, among friends and family. In other words, Crossfire mimics conversation, although it is a television debate requiring considerable verbal skills. This seeming lack of a predetermined size and order for public discourse is, perhaps, the most difficult aspect of Crossfire for Finns to grasp. Even though the talk on Crossfire cannot be categorized as a debate in the classical sense, every conversation, no matter how informal, has rules for turn taking. Analysis has shown that turns at speaking are "maintained," says McLaughlin, "until the first unilateral sound by another speaker, at which time the latter gains possession of the floor."
Janet (IGNORES MIKE): But, the point is, she did not decide to come out and do this the day before the election. (MIKE SHOUTS IN BACKGROUND.) Instead she waited, pulled back and decided, "I'm not going to say anything," but it was only when her name got dragged out in the American Spectator... Mike: But... but... look: Janet! John: Give her credit... (UNCLEAR SPEECH) Mike (INTERRUPTS JANET AND JOHN): Janet! Look Janet! Isn't there a double standard... Let's... let's... I'll even concede to you there's a bit of a double standard on the liberal side, but isn't there also a double standard on the conservative side - that you people are pushing this Paula Jones thing with a whole lot of relish, and enjoying it, and accusing the media of not pursuing it heavily enough? Whereas, in the Anita Hill case you were horrified by the very idea? si McLaughlin 1984.
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Janet: ...Huh-uh... Dead Wrong! We couldn't be more upset that the office of the Presidency is being smeared and blemished by this kind of activity, because the reality is, Mike: Who in America gets to rejoice and who wins when the office of the Presidency gets dragged through the mud? So we... Mike (INTERRUPTS): So... you're saying... that Paula Jones should be ashamed of herself... that she should... Janet: No. What we're saying is, that Paula Jones should be given her day in court. She should be given the right of due process, the rules of evidence and, heaven help her, if she can find a jury and a judge that's going to be able to hear her... Mike (INTERRUPTS): Let me try once more and then I'll give up. Janet (SMILES): All right.
Commentary: John shouts, "Hold on!" over the uproar. Rules about turn-taking only appear to have broken down in this debate because it is only mimicking conversation. Boundaries, however, can be very fluid in conversational turn-taking, and, not surprisingly, boundaries are mostly culturally determined. In some cultures, McLaughlin notes, longer periods of silence are tolerated before another turn is taken. This point is upheld by Philips, who discovered that, in the "talk patterns of Indians on the Warm Springs reservation," silence was "easily tolerated" and "interruptions... were rare," and that "replies" were often separated "from the utterance to which there was a response."52 John: ...What are the criteria you applied in the Anita Hill case that you are now applying to the Miss Jones case? That says... Kim (INTERRUPTS): The very same criteria that we have applied across the board... [about Packwood]... that he had committed vile sexual mis conduct... John (INTERRUPTS): We're not talking about... we're talking about... Kim (SHOUTS): We're talking about... John (SHOUTS LOUDER): Let's talk about... let's talk about these two... Kim (RAISES HER VOICE): Where was the right wing... John: Let's talk about these two...
Commentary: In any conversation, says McLaughlin, longer pauses can become "awkward." A three-second period of silence, in American culture, would signal some sort of breakdown in the natural flow of the conversation, and would cause the competency of the speaker(s) to be called into question, or even suggest, as in the case of Crossfire, that the topic "can no longer sustain interaction."53 52 Ibid.: 103-104. See also Philips 1976: 5, 81-95. 53 McLaughlin 1984: 121-122.
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Lehtonen and Sajavaara quote a Finnish poem which can perhaps better illustrate the Finnish view of the cued spontaneity on Crossfire Listen a lot, speak little. One word is enough to make a lot of trouble. One mouth, two ears. A barking dog does not catch a hare. A fool speaks a lot, a wise man thinks instead. Brevity makes a good psalm. One word is as good as nine. Kim (CONTINUES): ...when Bob Packwood... (MUDDLED SPEECH)... John (INTERRUPTS, SHOUTING) (UNINTELLIGIBLE): ...the Anita Hill case! Kim (CONTINUES): ...were being bounced up... I do, I want to talk... John (CONTINUES HIS MONOLOGUE): ...(INCOHERENT) ...and all the other examples... Kim: ...about all of them. I want to say: Where was Operation Rescue? Where was Randall Terry? Where was Pat Robertson? ...when the women of Tailhook were trying to get a hearing... John (SHOUTS ABOVE KIM'S MONOLOGUE): You really don't know how bad this looks: That you're unwilling to make the comparison between Miss Jones and Miss Hill! You got yourself hoisted on your own petard, when you went out with criteria on Professor Hill and you came out within 48 hours... public statementKim (CONTINUES TALKING UNDER JOHN'S ACCUSATIONS... SHE CANNOT BE UNDERSTOOD): Your nose is growing John Sununu! You know very well.... John (INTERRUPTS): ...he was before the congressional hearing... (Kim is shouting in the background)... and within 48 hours you came out with a statement... Kim (CONTINUES HER MONOLOGUE): ...absolutely... she went to the committee with those charges... (THE DEBATE CONTINUES FOR OVER A MINUTE WITH JOHN AND KIM SPEAKING AT THE SAME TIME. MIKE AND JANET TRY TO INTERRUPT WITH THEIR OPINIONS, AS KIM AND JOHN CONTINUE. FINALLY, KIM STARTS LAUGHING AND MIKE IS FINALLY ABLE TO BREAK IN WITH THE FOLLOWING:) Mike: I think, I think, I think the point that John doesn't quite grab... that Kim was trying to make, if I may try my hand at it, is that NOW (OTHERS CONTINUE TALKING BUT GET QUIETER) ...did not take a stand on the Anita Hill case until after there had been a public hearing, in which she could not only make her statement, but she could be cross-examined... Commentary: Concerning simultaneous talk within conversations, research has shown that a hearer can make a "credible demonstration that she already possesses information that the speaker is attempting to provide her with" and therefore, renders her contribution to the conversation even more credible. Another reason for speaking simultaneously « Lehtonen & Sajavaara 1985: 193-201. Quoted from Kuusi 1953.
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is "the need of speakers to secure the gaze of their hearers."55 Simultaneous talk can, however, signify an intrusion, an attempt to establish dominance or power. However, interruptions seem to be commonplace, since people are able to carry out the tasks of speaking and listening at the same time. The attitude towards interruptions is also culturally determined. While in the prevailing culture in the United States, interruptions may seem to be a conversational matter of some consequence... [One study shows that in an Antiguan village] not only were there no norms against interruption, but there also seemed to be a prevailing pattern of "counternoise," such that another's talking seemed to be a good enough reason for one to begin talking himself, at the same time.56
In American culture, interruptions and simultaneous talk, other than that which is used to establish dominance by one speaker over the other, may also signify that "an incorrect statement by another" was made, and works to "secure the gaze of the hearer."57 According to Lehtonen and Sajavaara, Finns use "vocalizations and verbal backchannel signals" less than speakers of Central European languages or English speakers do. "Verbal backchannel signals," do exist in Finnish, but "too frequent use... is considered intrusive" and considered to be a negative trait of the speaker, "typical of drunken people." Finns, instead, nod their heads in approval and use eye contact with the speaker. "The typical Finn is a 'silent' listener."58 Deborah Tannen's study, in which she analyzed a taped, 2-hour conversation among friends around the Thanksgiving dinner table, revealed that "subcultural differences" caused "misunderstandings." For example, three participants in her study, from New York City, "seemed to dominate" because of the "differences in their turn-taking habits and ways of showing friendliness."59 Mike (INTERRUPTS): I give up! John (BROAD SMILE): We'll be back in a second, and when we return we'll ask our guests how they think President Clinton should defend himself against the claims of Miss Jones. (LOUD MUSIC BEGINS) Anita HU1 (FROM AN ARCHIVED INTERVIEW DUBBED IN OVER THE LOUD MUSIC): I have to face the possibility that sometimes people who we admire and respect and we want to do well may engage in behavior that is objectionable, and may be even against the law. John Packwood: I think the thing that intrigues me most is the way the women's groups look for a way to absolutely excoriate me and look for some way to attempt to exonerate the President and I just find that an intriguing double standard. (MUSIC ENDS, COMMERCIAL BEGINS)
's McLaughlin 1984: 123. 54 Ibid.: 125. 57 Ibid.: 129-131. 5« Lehtonen & Sajavaara 1985: 196. 5» Tannen 1985: 206. "Whichever party expects less pause will repeatedly and predictably be the first to interpret a turn-taking pause as an uncomfortable silence, an indication that the other has nothing to say. [...] what is intended as a friendly act of keeping conversation going is interpreted as an unfriendly act of not giving the other person a chance to talk."
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Commentary: According to a 1993 report by the Finnish Association of Language Teachers (SUKOL), "Finns have an especially sophisticated and well-developed body language to insure" turn taking. Finns, accordingly, "do not indicate verbally or prosodically" that "the right to speak is transferred to another person." Instead, it is indicated by means of the "glance."60 When we consider that the meaning of silence among us Finns is different from that represented by many other speech cultures, the length of a pause does not necessarily function as a signal to change turns when speaking - at least among us. To foreigners, however, a pause usually signals precisely that the turn is changing. The pauses in a talk and the pauses after the end of a talk have only a few tenths of a second difference, but suffice to mark tum taking.61
11.
Finnish Expectations and Audience Interpretations of "Crossfire "
The forty students who were interviewed in groups of twos and threes after watching the first half of Crossfire were asked to express their own reactions to the "debate," based on their own experiences from watching television debates on Finland's YLE. The following reactions were recorded: (1) The "pace" was much faster than any debate on YLE and there seemed to be no pauses or silence. Examples: Camera shots lasted from 3- 7 seconds throughout the debate. The music had a fast beat. The speakers allowed very short pauses between sentences, seemingly leaving little time for reflection. (2) The debate was very much like a commercial, and the beginning reminded one of a soap opera or a movie. Examples: The announcer shouted, in a voice-over above a musical background, "Live!" (followed by more music) "From Washington!" (more music) "Crossfire!", etc. (3) The audience was forced to devote total attention to the participants. Examples: "Hand cam " shots were taken by the camera crew (to make the camera seem invisible to the audience). Extra close-ups and a dark background forced the audience to focus only on the participants. (YLE does not use this method and usually has background scenery, furniture, a window, or plants.) (4) The four talked to each other as if they were old friends. This "debate" was as informal as a family argument. There was no chairperson (as is the practice on YLE and in other formal meetings in formal situations in Finland). (5) The "feelings," the emotions (anger, contempt, delight) seemed to be the most weighty matter of the debate, as opposed to the precise, academic logic of a more intellectual discussion, as would be commonly expected on Finnish state television. By Finnish television standards, the entire discussion was considered to be a bit naive, though entertaining. (6) When compared with debates on Finnish television, Crossfire's form of address seemed to be placed, from the beginning, on a very personal level, with very little distance established between the participants (and hopefully making them seem more accessible to American audiences). Direct answers were given in informal, colloquial language and participants looked each other directly in the eye while talking, and not into the camera, as would be the case in Finland. (7) Rude behavior, personal insults, accusations, and even name calling seemed to be the rule on Crossfire (not acceptable as "serious" behavior on YLE). Finger pointing and persistent «o Marjomaa & Nykyri & Veteläinen 1993: 66. " The writer adds an interesting observation: "It is in this way that we Finns very easily lose our tum to speak more quickly with those with whom we are conversing, before we have begun to say what we have to say." (ibid.: 66)
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interruptions seemed to be a constraint expected by the guests and encouraged by the hosts, meaning that the goal of the debate was: "Do not agree on anything." Such behavior was exemplified by "sarcastic" and "testy" phrases which seemed abrasive to Finns. "Stronger" adjectives were used as well. It seemed that the hosts, Mike and John, were obviously trying to be as provocative as possible, leading the guests into verbal combat. (8) Most puzzling for our Finnish audience was that in spite of the rude behavior and constant interruptions, everyone invariably smiled. This made the "debate" seem more like a show and, therefore, signaled that it was not to be taken seriously.
12.
Concision Defined
As Eugene Winter has so appropriately stated, evaluation of communication "often works by matching other related Situations from previous experience or knowledge with the present Situation being reported." In other words, "its Situation may be presented in a matching relation with another Situation."62 No television program, therefore, can say everything about anything, and that is why speakers must produce "unique sentences whose selected content has been in some way predetermined by that of its immediately preceding sentences or by the previous history of its larger message structure." By "Situation" Winter refers to what he calls "mutually expected text structuring," or "linguistic consensus," about what is to be said. Our Finnish definition of concision (above), is obviously derived from the perspective of the expectations of a Finnish audience. The basic structure of communicating information within this particular context was not one which proved to be "mutually expected," (in this case between the encoders, the producers of Crossfire, and the decoders, the Finnish audience). The debate does seem to present a matching relationship in so far as it is a political disagreement taking place on national or international television. It is, however, precisely this fact, that the "debate" was so obviously inhabiting the realm of public discourse, which caused a poor audience evaluation, and even rejection of its messages. The evaluation, therefore, is a negative one because the coding exchange did not fulfill implicit expectations of public discourse among the Finnish audience. Winter offers further insight into our investigation when he asks the reader to ...imagine a situation where you are desperate to find out something for the purpose of taking decisive action, and the information you want is contained in a text sixty sentences long which is available in two versions. Text A has no emphasis; everything is unmarked. Text Β has the normal emphasis most writers would place: that is, we have both the unmarked (the so-called
62
Winter 1994: 57. The "Situation" in this example from Crossfire hardly matches a similar "Situation" on Finnish television. This particular "Situation" included the elements listed below: Time frame: less than ten minutes. Video: 3-7 second camera shots, hand cam shots with fast switching from guest to guest, dark background, no scenery, close-ups and extreme close-ups. Audio: fast-paced introduction with rising intonation voiced over music, fast-paced speech in a competitive atmosphere with very short pauses between sentences, constant interruptions (including "rude" behavior and the use of strong adjective to describe people and events), familiar atmosphere (first names, smiles, informal language), emphasis on emotions (anger, delight, contempt, etc.).
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scientific objectivity) and the marked clause structure. Now which would you choose, the pokerfaced text A which betrays no emotions, or the more human appropriately emphasized text B?63
Winter assumes that text Β is the text of choice because by "using the marked grammar of elements of the clause, the writer is drawing our attention to particular clauses in particular sentences as being more important at that point in context."64 Winter also assumes that every sentence clause matters in purposeful communication and that they cannot be random or haphazard because the clause is a "device which constrains lexical selection," and which is also itself constrained by adjoining clauses.65 Lexical selection constraint is present in every communicative utterance, but commercial television has its own predetermined criteria which do not match Finnish expectations. The simple fact is that Finnish expectations were not established by a commercial medium and Finnish audiences, therefore, do not share the linguistic consensus assumed by the encoders. For these reasons, Finnish viewers are more capable of pointing out those places in the text in which the coding is constrained to fit the commercial mold, thereby revealing its existence to those who accept this mold implicitly. With these points in mind, it becomes clear why Crossfire is seen as a fast paced conversational interaction, resembling a commercial, in which participants have agreed, beforehand, to disagree. Informal language and first names are never the rule in a formal debate on Finnish television. Exaggerations, simultaneous talk, raising the voice, finger pointing, and insults are not considered "serious" discourse when on national television. For a participant in a debate to signal (perhaps by smiling) that all is only in jest goes against the logic of the encounter under circumstances of public discourse in Finland. The topics chosen for debate, as in the case of Crossfire, seem to fall within the parameters of a particular media frame, one which is already familiar to audiences.66 The entire debate takes place within a certain time frame, usually much shorter than 22 minutes in length and sandwiched between two or more commercials. Music is necessary to generate excitement, or "cued spontaneity," and the feeling of action and forward movement. Camera close-ups and sets which focus audience attention on the participants are used to establish a feeling of intimacy. Postman's claims that the discourse strategies used in commercial television include "short and simple messages" that do not engage the viewer in "wondering about the validity of the point being made," are correct, but do not tell the whole story, especially when reviewing the communicative encounters on Crossfire. It would perhaps be better to draw on Winter's explanation in which he points out that in order to reveal the key linguistic structures of a communicative encounter, it is best to look at it from the encoding point of view first. The encoder will always bear in mind what the audiences already know (in American commercial television this means drawing on popular media images and a framed store of information) then tell the audience what they "want them to know, framing it in an acceptable linguistic or picto-
«Ibid.: 48. Μ Ibid.: 48. «Ibid.: 48-49. 66 See examples below of "liberals," "conservatives" and "sexual harassment."
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rial starting point," which he calls "Situation." Audiences are given the story and then presented with a "Reason or Basis" for agreeing. "Lexical detail" for clauses are selected according to their being relevant for the communicative purpose.67 For example, if we recall the actual evidence presented by Kim and Janet concerning their points of view which they defended in such a spirited manner, Kim's argument went as follows: (1) "We [The National Organization for Women] have always taken the position that sexual harassment ought to be taken seriously, and women who make charges of sexual harassment ought to be listened to..." (2) "...both sides [Anita Hill and Paula Jones] are entitled to a fair trial." (3) "...we [NOW] found her [Anita Hill's] testimony credible." (4) ...[NOW] supported Anita Hill "at least two months after her initial statement..." (5) Janet falsely claims that Anita Hill is "a liberal feminist." (6) Anita Hill is "a conservative law professor" because she served "in the Reagan... and Bush administrations... She was a supporter of Robert Bork."
Janet's argument was: (1) Unlike Paula Jones, Anita Hill "did not file a lawsuit." (2) "...It was only when her name got dragged out in the American Spectator" that Paula Jones decided reluctantly "to come out" and file a lawsuit. (3) Conservatives "couldn't be more upset that the office of the Presidency is being smeared and blemished by this kind of activity..." (4) "Paula Jones should be given her day in court."
Neither argument appears to be in disagreement. Kim, the liberal, places more emphasis on sexual harassment as an act which should be punished, while Janet, the conservative, is "upset" that the President's office is now "blemished" by scandal. That Paula Jones should have a fair trial does not seem to be a disputed issue. Mike Kinsley's introductory statement was substantiated by the debate. According to Kinsley, Both sides say there are differences between Anita Hill and Paula Jones, but they disagree about what those differences are. Is anyone in Washington playing this one straight? Or are we all mired in hypocrisy and double standards?6'
The encoder knows that American audiences are cynical and mistrusting of politicians. Audiences are given a "Situation" with which one can only be expected to agree. The message is that politics in America is indeed a dirty business "mired in hypocrisy and double standards." The result of such a discourse, that is, the message which is left unspoken by the performance on Crossfire, is that the only recourse is to remain a passive observer. Or, to quote George Orwell, '"Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him'... the moral in either case being 'Sit on your bum' [...] Give yourself over to the world-process, stop fighting against it or pretending that you control it; simply accept it, endure it, record it."6'
«' Winter 1994: 58-62. 68 See transcript above. 6 « Orwell 1957: 47-48.
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As Primeau has so aptly expressed it, In logical persuasion we state the case, present facts, draw conclusions, and tell our listeners or readers why they ought to arrive at the same conclusions. A logical, orderly presentation of messages is what first comes to mind when people think of strategies for arguing.70
On commercial television, when constrained by the rules of concision, different strategies for arguing are in effect. As our Finnish (culturally uninitiated) audience could clearly see, logical persuasion takes a backseat to fast-paced conversational interaction, where participants have already, backstage, agreed to disagree. Good commercial television, however, is not easy to produce, and "staged spontaneity is not easy to achieve..." because "step-by-step planning" is absolutely necessary for good talk television. For audiences the illusion of "planless casualness... that allimportant illusion," must be there, or there will be no good commercial television.71
13.
Lacking "Linguistic Consensus": American News Frames as Lacunae in Finland
Before interviewing the participants in this study, and reviewing their reactions to Crossfire, it was revealing, from a cross-cultural standpoint, to observe that the journalistic frames attached to certain topics, such as "sexual harassment," or "liberals versus conservatives," were indeed perceived differently or not perceived at all by our Finnish audience. Scandinavia and Finland have been framed in the American media as having tolerant attitudes toward sex (just one example of a series of images which have served since the 1960s as popular and profitable media frames attached to Scandinavia as a whole). The reality, of course, is something else. Finnish women are better represented in the national workforce and in legislative bodies than in most other western countries and union membership among women in Scandinavia is among the highest in the world. In fact, Finland leads all western European countries in the percentage of women who work outside the home. In contrast to the United States, more women than men are enrolled in higher education in Finland, including schools of medicine and dentistry. At first our Finnish audience (thirty women and ten men) did not completely understand the significance of "sexual harassment" as it is portrayed in American media frames, and as it was used in Crossfire. Some women in our group boldly joked that, "Perhaps it's a good thing to be sexually harassed by a man every now and then." "In any case," others pointed out, "the union would take care of the problem, if it became serious." After further discussion, however, one female student did, in fact, remember a case in her high school, in which a male teacher was accused of harassing a female colleague, and was dismissed. During cross examination of the material, with another group of students, it became clear that the actual meaning of "sexual harassment," as an American media frame, was not entirely clear to our Finnish audience. The American audience's '» Primeau 1979: 103. " Ibid.: 229.
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understanding of this particular frame definitely represents a lacuna72 for Finns. Although there is no denying that the practice of men harassing women most definitely occurs in Finnish society, (and there is no scientific study of the differences between the two societies in that respect) this particular media frame, constructed around the phenomenon, does not entirely exist as discursive currency in the Finnish media. It does not get the media attention that it gets in the United States, just as many American issues with media frames clamped around them are "non-issues" in Finland (such as the question of abortion).73 Emmott has described this phenomenon as "frames of reference," in particular, the ability of the audience to "recall" certain implicit knowledge on particular issues. Emmott writes: There is always a possibility that a stored frame may be recalled. We might return to a location that we had temporarily left. [...] Frame recall is of particular interest because [...] we need only mention a small amount of information about the stored context in order to re-instate the full frame.74
"Frame recall," as Emmott describes it, can also account for certain rhetorical phenomena which, for the culturally uninitiated, would be difficult to explain. For example, as one student in our audiences stated publicly: "Perhaps it's a good thing to be sexually harassed by a man every now and then" would not be an appropriate expression for the typical American college woman because it would not precisely fit her and her audience's store of frames.75 In the United States and Finland, because the expertise of well-qualified women is very much in demand by employers in both countries, not only the higher offices of government, but also leading positions within corporate structures are being opened to some highly qualified women. For those women, after years of struggle for this right, it is important to be treated fairly. Sexual harassment, therefore, is being exposed for what it is: a crude, sexist tool. Sexual harassment is, however, assessed and evaluated by most American television audiences within a certain framework. The struggles of American women 72
A concept developed in linguistics to be used for intercultural analysis of perceived "gaps" in cross-cultural texts. See Schuchalter & Dellinger & Schröder 1993. However, media frames are being constantly imported from America to Finland and it would most definitely be a topic for further study to show just how frames are imported from the United States and how they are interpreted by Finnish audiences. 7« Emmott 1994: 157-165. 75 "Sexual harassment," remarked one female member of our audience, "does exist in Finland, but Finnish men are more accustomed to cooperating with women in the workplace." After some checking with statistics, this statement explains much. From 1987 to 1990, for example, there were just as many men as women in the Finnish workforce, and since 1990 women have actually outnumbered men. By 1995, there were more women in the Finnish workforce than in any other European country. This is, of course, not to say that discrimination against women in the workplace does not exist. The fact remains that in Finland lower paid white-collar jobs are mostly filled by women (75%) and managerial positions are still mostly reserved for men (only 25% of top managerial jobs are performed today by women). While women form a membership majority in all major Finnish trade union organizations, they represent a minority in the leadership. Women who earn hourly wages receive, on average, only 81% of what men earn per hour in Finland, which is very close to the national after-tax average ratio for all women who work. Statistics taken from Laitala 1994. 73
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are reflected in these frames, not necessarily those from Europe. The women's movement is presented by the media, using much the same criteria that would be used to evaluate racial injustice. It is not difficult to agree in America, whether one is liberal or conservative, that discrimination should not be openly tolerated - just as the vast majority of liberals and conservatives no longer openly support racial discrimination. "Feminism," as it is used on Crossfire, like sexual harassment, is also something of a lacuna, particularly in this edition of Crossfire, and within the context of the sexual harassment frame.7' "Feminism," in this context, causes misunderstandings among Finnish audiences because American feminists draw on a tradition which goes back to pre-Civil War demands for suffrage and sexual equality, and some of the content of the American movement for women's civil rights was inspired by or at least related in essence to the struggle for the ballot and the suffragist struggle as it originated in England. In the United States this movement was both directly and indirectly implicated with the struggle for civil rights and racial justice, specifically abolitionism. Abolitionists in the north were inspired by women who actively led the moral fight against slavery in the south (with the "underground railroad," for example) from within northern church organizations before the Civil War began.77 Finnish women, on the other hand, secured the right to vote in 1907, an event which was inspired by, and had considerable support from, the Finnish labor movement and the Social Democratic Party. The striking feature of the women's movement in Finland is that, instead of being centered in the church or around a moral issue, such as freedom from slavery, it has had links to political parties, mostly on the left.78 Finnish women, even without a strong "feminist" movement of the American variety, depending on their economic status, and despite many obstacles, have realized many of their demands for equality and in many areas of Finnish society, women have achieved as much or more than their counterparts in the United States.79 This association of the movement for women's equality with the movement for racial equality does not exist in Finland for obvious reasons. Finland is a comparatively homogeneous society, one which has not had much opportunity, with some exceptions, to examine its own ethnic and racial prejudices. In any case, there is no history of slavery nor even mass discrimination of civil rights based on race, which w For a comprehensive review of feminism in Finland, see Bergman 1989: 71-97. " Southern women, as well, like Angelina Grimke, born to South Carolina's "aristocracy" and author of Appeal to the Christian Women in the South in 1836, were active in the abolitionist movement in the 1830s. Other women, like Jessie Daniel Ames were active in anti-lynching campaigns in the South after the civil war. Although, "The historic link between abolitionism and women's rights had been broken by the late nineteenth century, when an organized women's movement emerged in the former slave states...," Ames joined secular groups in the South to stop lynching of blacks, (see Du Pre Lumpkin 1974) '»Cf. Bebel 1974; see Anttonen 1994. These political parties have also established certain rights for women which guarantee such things as daycare, maternity leave, and child support. 79 In Finland, nearly 40 per cent of the Eduskunta (the Finnish Parliament) is composed of women. This figure ranks Finland among the highest in Europe (only Sweden and Norway have slightly higher representation from women members of parliament). Paid maternity leave in Finland averages 45 weeks. (Heisingin Sanomat, 2/10/1994, E28-E28.) Also, the closest runner-up for the office of President in the last Finnish election (1994) was a woman.
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prevailed in the American South only a few decades ago.80 American civil rights legislation, such as affirmative action, a direct result of the civil rights struggles of the 1950s and the 1960s, undeniably added to the status and power of women as a social group in the United States. Such legislation is unknown to Finns." Therefore, sexual harassment, as a form of discrimination against one's civil rights - and as it is also framed by the American media - would be interpreted in a somewhat different manner by Finns, and in any case, the interpretation would not lie within the same social and historical precedents which predominate in the United States. 14.
The Liberal Lacuna: Who Is the Conservative?
Again, an example of "frame recall," as described by Emmott, is that the hosts on Crossfire so intimately fit American "liberal" and "conservative" stereotypes.'2 John Sununu plays the "heavy," (though not as well as his colleague, Pat Buchanan) and he is very accomplished at following one rapid-fire accusation with another - within the structural constraints of concision. The "liberal," Mike Kinsley, wears whitish, clear-rimmed glasses. Fulfilling the expectations of the liberal intellectual, he even looks frail and possibly somewhat arrogant - a good caricature of an "east coast liberal."'3 In fact, the program seems to be offering audiences little more than parodies - almost as if watching a sitcom about liberals and conservatives and their little strifes and conflicts. In the case of Crossfire, the casting director could not have done a better job.
" The Finnish civil conflict just after independence was not drawn along ethnic or racial lines, as was the case in the United States' own civil war. " Not known in the sense that there is legislation which benefits women, but that it was originally derived from the struggles for the civil rights of an ethnic minority. »2 Emmott 1994: 157-165. 83 Kinsley has in fact stated, while appearing on the Jay Leno Show, that it is important that he maintain his liberal views on issues, otherwise, he would be out of a job. Kinsley is described by Nancy Collins (1994), as Crossfire's "sure-of himself lefty in residence," "the wiseass Wunderkind." Kinsley, however, is not to be underestimated and, in spite of his ties to Crossfire, he is certainly no liberal intellectual lightweight. His credentials make him one of the leading liberal pundits in Washington today. Kinsley took over as managing editor of the New Republic eighteen years ago and turned it into "something people in Washington had to read and talk about." Contrary to the conservative stereotypes built up around the Harvard graduate, Jewish intellectual and liberal, Kinsley "can talk to anybody. He doesn't have a snobbish bone in his body." Others have characterized him as "a left-wing capitalist... He is genuinely liberal on social questions, genuinely capitalist on economic matters..." Kinsley himself says that he "got the best of postwar American upbringing... upper-middle-class Midwest... parents dedicated to education..." Kinsley's aggressive debating skills could have come from his mother, who "loved to argue politics," but some believe that "Kinsley's Crossfire skirmishes may have dulled his rapier perceptions..." According to one colleague, "Michael used to be totally disrespectful of television and anybody who was ever on it..." Now, however, Kinsley knows that it is more demanding than he thought. "You have to gear up for a fight every night - even if you don't feel like it. ...someone is trying to make an ass out of you - and you're trying to make an ass out of them. It's exhausting and draining - you can't ever coast."
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These frames ("the arrogant liberal," "the conservative bully") are recalled, as Emmott puts it, to compensate "for the lack of contextual detail."84 This "compensation" is accomplished by "bringing forward" information (e.g., the white-rimmed glasses of the liberal intellectual) about the broader context from a frame store.'5 Such a feat allows us (the culturally initiated) to interpret the text and more quickly distinguish between certain ideas and concepts. It makes us (the culturally initiated) aware of the "covert participants in any situation."86 For the culturally uninitiated, the concept of "liberal" and "conservative," in particular these American caricatures offered us on Crossfire, was somewhat difficult to come to terms with - at least, within the American media's framed context. This is another lacuna, of course, which presents us with a number of "gaps" where misunderstanding-understandings will most definitely occur. For example, Finland is a parliamentary democracy, and although there has been a Liberal party in Finland, one would have to classify it as having a conservative program, one which would have little to do with "progressive" or "left-wing" issues, in the American sense. Finland's equivalent "liberal" parties, if we think of "liberal" in the American sense, as being "on the left" or "tolerant," are the Social Democrats and the Left Coalition (Vasemmistoliitto), both heirs to 19th century labor movement ideology (including the remains of the former Finnish Communist Party). For the culturally initiated, that is, from the point of view of many Americans, the thought of "liberals versus conservatives" can also be something of a lacuna, but in a different way. Liberal Democrats, in America, are often framed as being in support of "big government," meaning increasing government spending on social programs, support for minority groups, support and regulation of trade and trade unions, as well as all gender issues in a general way (heirs of the New Deal). Conservative Republicans, on the other hand, are known for their ideological support for the abstract concept of "free enterprise" (which included, at one time, "Reagonomics"), their indirect association with other right-wing religious groups, and their "hawkish" foreign policy, including support for military spending to build a "strong" America ("Star Wars," for example). "Liberals" are, according to the frame, the heirs to Roosevelt and Kennedy-style political "tolerance." "Conservatives" are framed as supporters of rugged individualism, an unregulated economy, a strong military - and, in extreme cases, advocates of authoritarian legislation (such as laws which totally ban abortion). American liberals, however, are also framed with the "East Coast Establishment," that is, the wealthy "Kennedy clan" and certain intellectuals (John Kenneth Galbraith, for example). The conservative frame could include southerners and midwesterners who scoff at "intellectual snobs" in the Northeast. When Jib Fowles criticizes "television prigs," he is also referring to "someone who is scornful... condescending... hostile to the growing majority... the better educated." He is definitely referring to the vague concept of "elitist northern liberals."87
μ Emmott 1994: 163-165. «5 Ibid.: 163-165. ω Ibid.: 163-165. «7 Fowles 1992: 100.
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It can be a perplexing matter - and not just for Finns, Europeans and the culturally uninitiated - to distinguish between some American liberals and some conservatives because of their (for a European) eclectic and non-factional points of view on many key political topics. Granted, certain crucial issues are always argued, before the cameras and often with vehemence, as in this particular debate on Crossfire. But those who officially adhere to the dogmas of one or the other oppositional factions rarely take the time in public to penetrate beneath the surface of petty party issues and make a serious attempt to identify the real underlying causes. When we stop to consider the structural constraints of commercial television discourse, how could they? The ideological frame and the actual dialogue between liberals and conservatives in America is, at its best, a reflection of real grass-roots politics, but at its worst it is only a superficial dialogue between ruling elites and, when said with a smile, meant only to be good television entertainment. 15. References Achbar, Mark (ed.) 1994 Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media. Montreal: Black Rose Books. Agee, Philip 1991 The Monthly Planet. An online publication of the Nuclear Weapons Freeze of Santa Cruz County. Anderson, Chris 1987 Style as Argument. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Anttonen, Anneli (ed.) 1994 Naisten hyvinvointivaltio. Tampere: Vastapaino. Bamouw, Erik 1978 The Sponsor. New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bebel, August 1974 Die Frau und der Sozialismus. Berlin: Dietz Verlag. Beigman, Solveig 1989 "Post-War Feminism in Finland," in: Women'sWorlds: Finnish Contributions to the Third International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women, Dublin 1987. Abo, Finland: Institute of Women's Studies at Abo Akademi. Bliss, Edward Jr. & Patterson, John M. 1978 Writing News for Broadcast. New York: Columbia University Press. Chancellor, John & Mears, Walter R. 1983 The News Business. New York: Harper & Row. Chomsky, Noam 1992 Chronicles of Dissent: Interviews with David Barsamian. Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press. Collins, Nancy 1994 "Hey, Mike, What's with the Beard?" Vanity Fair, November 1994. Dellinger, Brett 1995 Finnish Views of CNN Television News: A Critical Cross-Cultural Analysis of the American Commercial Discourse Style. Vaasa: University ofVaasa. Acta Wasaensia no 43. van Dijk, Teun A. 1991 Racism and the Press. London/New York: Routledge.
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Emmott, Catherine 1994 "Frames of reference: contextual monitoring and the interpretation of narrative discourse", in: Coulthard, Malcolm (ed.), Advances in Written Text Analysis. London/New York: Routledge. Foster, William Z. 1936 The Casefor Industrial Organization. CIO Publications, No. 4., March, 1936. Washington, D.C. Foster, William Z. 1956 American Trade Unionism. New York: International Publishers. Fowler, Roger 1991 Language in the News: Discourse and Ideology in the Press. London/New York: Routledge. Fowles, Jib 1992 Why Viewers Watch: A Reappraisal of Television's Effects. Newbury Park: Sage Publishers. Gaddis, John Lewis 1972 The United States and the Origins of the Cold War, 1941-1947. New York: Columbia University Press. Halliday Μ. A. K. & Mcintosh, A. & Strevens, P. 1964 The Linguistic Sciences and Language Teaching. London: Longmans. Hallin, Daniel C. 1987 "We Keep America on Top of the World", in: Gitlin, Todd (ed.), Watching Television. A Pantheon Guide to Popular Culture. New York: Pantheon Book. Hoynes, William & Croteau, David 1989 Are You on the Nightline Guest List? An Analysis of 40 Months o/Nightline Programming. A special report published in Extra by Fair and Accuracy in Reporting (FAIR). Isotalus, Pekka 1994 "Onko toimittajan televisioesiintymisellä merkitystä?" in: Isotalus, Pekka (ed.), Puheesta ja vuorovaikutuksesta. Jyväskylä: University of Jyväskylä, Dept. of Communication Studies. Koski, Markku 1995 "Mooseksen mediavoitto", Heisingin Sanomat April 14, 1995. Kuusi, M. (ed.) 1953 Vanhan kansan sananlaskuviisaus. Helsinki: Werner Söderström. Laaksovirta, Tuula & Farnell, Gary 1992 "The Position of Silence in English and Finnish Culture", LSP and Theory of Translation, 12th VAKKI Symposium, Vörä 8-9.2.1992, 107-118. Laitala, Terttu (ed.) 1994 SAK Naiset: Naiset työelämässä. Tilastotietoja. 17/6/1994. Lehtonen, J. & Sajavaara, K. 1985 "The Silent Finn", in: Tannen, D. & Saville-Troike, M. (eds.), Perspectives on Silence. Norwood, NJ: Ablex, 193-201. Levo-Henriksson, Ritva 1991 Arkkityyppijaversiot: TV-draamaaAmerikastaAasiaan. Helsinki: Yleisradio. Lumpkin, Katharine Du Pre 1974 The Emancipation of Angelina Grimke. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Maijomaa, Ilkka & Nykyri, Jukka & Veteläinen, Auvo (eds.) 1993 Löytöretki Eurooppaan. Raportti yhdessä SUKOLin kanssa järjestetyistä kieltenopettajien päivistä 20.-21.9.1991. McLaughlin, Margaret L. 1984 Conversation: How Talk Is Organized. Sage Series in Interpersonal Communication. London: Sage.
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Menaker, Daniel 1972 "Art and Artifice in Network News", Harper's Magazine, October 1972. Newsom, Doug & Wollert, James A. 1985 Media Writing: News for the Mass Media. Belmont CA: Wadsworth. Orwell, George 1957 Inside the Whale and Other Essays. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Philips, S. 1976 "Some Sources of Cultural Variability in the Regulation of Talk", Language in Society. Postman, Neil 1986 Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. New York: Penguin Books. Postman, Neil & Powers, Steve 1992 How to Watch TV News. New York: Penguin. Powers, Ron 1977 The Newscasters: The News Business as Show Business. New York: St. Martin's Press. Poyatos, Fernando 1988 Cross-Cultural Perspectives in Nonverbal Communication. Toronto: Hogrefe. Primeau, Ronald 1979 The Rhetoric of Television. New York/London: Longman. Rosen, Jay 1991 "That's Entertainment", Propaganda Review, No. 1,1991. Sallinen, Aino 1994 "Miten kiijoitetun kielen mallit vaikuttavat puhumiseen", in: Isotalus, Pekka (ed.), Puheesta ja vuorovaikutuksesta. Jyväskylä: University of Jyväskylä, Dept. of Communication Studies. Schuchalter, Jerry & Dellinger, Brett & Schroder, Hartmut 1993 Lacunaology. Vaasa: University of Vaasa. Tannen, Deborah 1985 "Cross-Cultural Communication," in: Handbook of Discourse Analysis vol. 4. London: Academic Press. Winebrenner, Denise 1994 People 's Weekly World, October 15,1994. Winter, Eugene 1994 "Clause relations as information structure: two basic text structures in English", in: Coulthard, Malcolm (ed), Advances in Written Text Analysis. London/New York: Routledge.
HANNU EERIKÄINEN
Cybersex: Α Desire for Disembodiment On the Meaning of the Human Being in Cyber Discourse
... the elite stance involved a certain relaxed contempt for the flesh. The body was meat. Case fell into the prison of his own flesh. - William Gibson
What ever sex may be, is it always in the last analysis something essentially corporeal? In other words, how could you have sex without a body, without the human body? Is sex itself, after all, the embodiment of the desire - a desire of the body to be a body in its own right, as flesh? And corollarly, is corporeality, with all its implications, the very basis of authentic human life (we not only have a body, we are the body), and hence the fundament of human subjectivity (see, for example, Turner 1997:1-36; Falk 1994:3-6)? In other words, is sex as corporeal experience the very basis of human existence, being-in-the-world (cf. Foucault & Sennett 1981)? The promise of happiness - Glücksversprechen, according to Adorno - in cybersex is the extension of the sexual functions of the body through technology, even leaving the body behind and experiencing sex in immaterial corporeality. Whether this is possible or not is an other matter; still one can ask, what does technology have to do with human sexuality? Is sex actually in the contemporary world the last refuge of the body increasingly facing a comprehensive technologization of human life? Is flesh not anymore the utmost guarantee of sexual pleasure? Skin contact, aroused movements of naked bodies, erection, sweat, saliva, vaginal lubrication, sperm, blood - all this purely corporeal, being peculiar to the sexual experience in flesh - one might even say to natural sex - is in cybersex transformed into chips, plugs, sensors, vibrators, screens; that is, into an apparatic paraphernalia. What we encounter in cybersex is computerized equipment suggesting not so much an atavistic joy of flesh than man-machine systems in an astronautic or military test laboratory, or clinical instruments of high-tech medicine - or some kind of futuristic fitness gym. Does this actually mean technological exercise disguised as sex instead of corporeal ecstasy of a real sexual encounter in flesh? Or does cybersex in the last analysis express a specific techno-erotic fascination towards computer and digital technology, a kind of techno-fetishism? Either way, cybersex seems to imply a new definition not only of sex and sexuality but also of the human being.
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Introduction: Beyond the Body?
In this article I will consider cybersex as a manifestation of a desire for disembodiment prevalent in cyberculture in general. In this culture life beyond the body seems to be a new sphere of being human. The initially science fiction vision of cyberspace as a "consensual hallucination" in the techno-dystopic science fiction or cyberpunk novel Neuromancer by William Gibson (1995 [1984]), has turned from a metaphor to a reality, to an experiential and experimental - lived - reality that is called cyberdelia (Dery 1996: 21-72). According to Andrew Feenberg, Gibson's work "opened the era of virtual reality by supplying a language and an imaginative system with which to assemble existing simulation technologies into a new vision of the future" (Feenberg 1995: 139—140).' Since then cyberspace is promising an immaterial, virtual world where you can experience "bodiless exultation" (Gibson 1995: 12), a euphoric omnipotence of the limitless self (Robins 1996: 85-103). My purpose is to try to identify some of the constitutive elements of the idea of cybersex and to trace its roots in what I call the cyber discourse, that is, a postmodern linguistic practice projecting the survival of the human being into the digitization of all spheres of human life. As paradigmatic examples of the cyber discourse with regard to sex I will analyse two conceptions of cybersex. The first one, the original idea of cybersex, teledildonics, of Howard Rheingold (1990,1991), represents so to speak the "theory" of cybersex, and the second one by Stahl Stenslie (1996), a description of the cybersex systems designed by him (initially together with Kirk Woolford), illuminates the "practice" of technological and digitized sex. Both of these cybersex technologies promise a transgression of all the constraints of corporeality in sex. On the basis of these two examples, I will problematize views according to which the human body is in the way or another reducible to technology, or as a biological form already obsolete altogether. To my knowledge at least, except for one monograph on "the love affair between humans and machines" or on the "electronic eros" (Springer 1996), there are no larger studies on the topic of sex and technology. Even the two recently published thorough presentations of cyber and cyborg problematics (Featherstone & Burrows 1995; Gray 1995) do not discuss cybersex at all, as surprising as it may sound considering die popularity of cybersex visions. On the other hand, there are scattered remarks, often quite informative, on cybersex, virtual sex, or relations ι It is worth calling to mind what William Gibson originally meant by cyberspace: '"Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation, by children being taught mathematical concepts... A graphic representation of data abstracted from the banks of every computer in the human system. Unthinkable complexity. Lines of light ranged in the nonspace of the mind, clusters and constellations of data. Like city lights, receding...'" (Gibson 1995: 67) It should be noticed that this passage is a quote (hence the double quotation marks here) from a children's TV program ("Kid's show") explaining "the matrix," the world-wide computer system imagined in the novel. Curiously enough, this fact is always omitted in the commentaries on cyberspace. Moreover, it should be noticed that originally, as a fictional idea, cyberspace was not a vision of a Utopian future, but a dystopian metaphor refering to the contemporary world. It was extrapolated, a darkly ironic and nightmarish description of a world dominated by computer technology, artificial intelligence, and technobiology, all of which have made possible turning the human being into a cyboig (cybernetic organism).
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between sex and technology, or the machine world seen in terms of sexuality, in presentations dealing with cyberspace thematics in general (for example, Thu Nguyen & Alexander 1995; Dery 1996). Moreover, during the last couple of years some analytical articles with intriguing insights into cybersex have been published (for example, Angerer 1996; McRae 1997), or cultural-critical, polemical essays on the topic (for example, Virilio 1996), or reports including well-done observations (for example, Freyermuth 1996b, 1996c). What I am missing, though, is a problematisation of the concept of the human being implied by the idea of cybersex; this is my approach here. Taking as a hypothesis that cybersex is an intrinsic and idiosyncratic idea pertinent to the cyber discourse I try to put it into the perspective of the technologization of the human being. I claim that cybersex is more than just sex, and it is even more than only a technologically expanded form of human sexuality - assuming that such an expansion would be possible in the first place. I will aigue that cybersex can be interpreted as an indication of a radical new, emerging way to understand the meaning of the human being, the evolutionary homo sapiens, with regard to the on-going techno-biological and bio-technological transformation which evidently pertains to all the premises of the corporeal existence and the subjectivity of the human being (see, for example, Robertson et al. 1996; Bender & Dmckrey 1994). 1.1
Some Basic Definitions
It seems appropriate first to specify the concept of cybersex. Abasie definition is of necessity on the grounds that there is quite a nebulous diversity of ideas, concepts, metaphors and visions in the discussion - all of them somehow referring to sex made possible through computer and digital technology. Parallel to "cybersex" one can see used such expressions as "virtual sex," "computer sex" or "compusex" and "net sex," among others. Although they quite often seem to be synonymous, they apparently differentiate from each other with regard to the question of how far computer and digital technology is incorporated into sexual experiences, and in which way the human body and technology are conceived to be in interaction. I would like to make a basic distinction between cybersex and computer sex; the latter refers to various sex activities available through computer networks (on-line) and on CD-ROMs (off-line). Especially the Internet is full of sex: sex-focused newsgroups, "pornographic" images and texts, "dirty talk" through e-mail and IRC contacts, flirt on CU-SeeMe, simulated sex shops in computer games and more (see, for example, Branwyn 1994) - accompanied by a new type of printed sex magazines mixing high-tech fantasies and everlasting imagery of naked flesh (for example, Future Sex). But all this does not differ very much from conventional forms of mediated sex, such as pornographic films and picture magazines or phone sex. The same applies to off-line computer sex, that is, sexual and erotic material available in CD-ROM format - although the special attraction of CD-ROM sex is interactivity in the same way as in computer games.2 (See, for example, Aresin & Starke 1996: 88-90) 2 Already for years there has been plenty of sex software for the computer user available on the market, whether on floppy disks or CD-ROMs. For example, a CD titled Cyborgasm promises
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What makes the difference, then? My answer is: the construction - in cyber fantasy, in cultural theory or in technological practice - of a kind of interactive "sex machine" as an apparatic extension ofthe body, as a sexual prosthetic system. Accordingly, in my opinion cybersex proper can be understood by referring to mediated sex as incorporating, in one way or another, a technologically enhanced corporeal experience through telepresence or virtual reality. The idea is wholebody sexual encounters and simulated sex acts made possible through an interactive computer technology and a data suit provided with sensors, effectors and vibrators, producing real-time effects on the bodies of the participants. It is essential in cybersex that the human body and a digital apparatus function in a close, symbiotic-like interplay with each other. Cybersex is sex at the interface, on the borderline between that which is biological (the human body) and that which is technological (a machine, an apparatus). At the moment it can be said that cybersex has a double existence: on the one hand, on the visionary level, it is an idea construction, both expressing and informing technocultural imagination and discourse; on the other hand, on the practical level, it is an experimental application of interactive computer technology, a potential - or at least imaginable - dimension of the design of human-machine combinations and interface systems. It must be emphasized, however, that cybersex, for the time being, is more an idea still waiting for a real substance. Cybersex can be interpreted as a rhetorical figuration which in its own way is a specific (although not yet strictly specified) idiom in a technocultural theorization manifesting the cyber discourse. In this sense, cybersex is a phantasm, an imaginary technology, expanding the limits of the real; as a projection into the future it points out what on certain premises could be real. By the concept of discourse I designate, first, a certain manner of thinking and speaking, a certain way of using language which defines and determines things as something having a meaning (signification); second, by this signification process a discourse is naming things as something, calling some things into existence and dispeling some others into non-existence (inclusion/exclusion); and third, by defining the world and making it thus understandable, intelligible and acceptable, a discourse situates the users of a certain linguistic practice into a certain existential order (positioning). In short, a discourse has a constitutive function not only in the sense of how a world is called into being but, moreover, how the inhabitants of this world understand themselves. In this sense discourses are forms of legitimation, and thus culturally productive forces.3 Accordingly, those speaking of cybersex "the wildest erotic experience of your life," offering though quite conventional pomo imagery; according to Claudia Springer's critical view "there is nothing remotely 'cyber' about any of this." Similarly, maybe the most famous - and still best selling - sex CD-ROM is Virtual Valerie, an interactive sex game making it possible for the user to play out his (it is, of course, a male game) sex phantasies clicking on the screen the female figure - "Valerie" - into different sex positions; but here again, it is "technology, not physical sex" which is "the true locus of computerized sexuality" (Springer 1996: 53-54). 3 The definition of the concept of the discourse given here is loosely based on my reading of Foucauldian conceptualisation of discourses as generative structures and power constellations, as materially existing orders of thinking, speaking and acting which produce and legitimize social practices and ways of understanding (Fink-Eitel 1992: 55-70; Kögler 1994: 35-44; Konersmann 1996: 74-86).
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take the world as something which in the first place is seen through the attribute cyber - what ever it is. There are at least three discursive fields behind all that which begins with the prefix cyber, all of them thematizing human-machine relationships, especially constructions incorporating control, feedback and interface systems. First, the latest use of this attribute goes back to the literary genre of the new science fiction, cyberpunk (Sterling, Gibson and others; see, for example, Bukatman 1994), referring to (often dystopic) visions of a new world order based thoroughly on computer and digital technology and consisting of a hallucinatory data sphere, cyberspace (see, for example, Ross 1991: 137-167). Second, a strand of theorizing around the concept of cyborg (cybernetic organism), initially brought into the cultural studies by Donna Haraway in 1985, an American historian of natural sciences, as "an ironic political myth faithful to feminism, socialism, and materialism" aiming at a critical thematisation of technology in terms of radical feminism (Haraway 1991: 147181). Third, the oldest sphere, the original context of cybernetics, a new science of systemic control in man, machine and animal established by Norbert Wiener in the late forties, seeing the world in terms of input/output mechanisms, information processing and feedback (Wiener 1961 [1948], 1968 [1950]). What I here call cyber discourse loosely consists of these three fields (cf. Tomas 1995); it is a techno-optimistic, affirmative and often Utopian way of speaking about computer and digital technology, expressing "postmodernist celebration of technological sublime" (Penley & Ross 1991: xii). Cyber discourse is essentially a postmodern hybrid language practice mixing together science fiction, futuristic visioning and scientisistic utopianism, and intentionally sweeping away the distinction between the imaginary and the real. Cyber discourse is a radically antihuman and antihumanistic way of thinking which by this discourse itself is called posthumanism or transhumanism (Terranova 1996; Dery 1996; Freyermuth 1996a).4 The essential idea of posthumanism is the claim that the human being has come to the end of its development and thus, as an obsolete life form must be replaced by various hybrids of technological and biological organisms working in a close symbiosis. In this sense cybersex can be seen as a certain topos in the cyber discourse, as a recurrent theme in the postmodern technocultural discourse on cyberspace and virtual reality. The concept of topos refers originally in poetics and literary studies to commonplaces which recurrently appear as thematic or stylistic figures and are 4
By posthumanism or transhumanism I mean a cybercultural scientisist discourse formation which believes in the necessity of an artificial enhanced evolution replacing the idea of natural, biological evolution based on genetic mechanisms. Being a highly eclectic (in this sense, true postmodern, though not necessarily always self-conscious about it) compound of theories, visions and prophesies, posthumanism is a descendant of science fiction, popular futurology and New Age messianism, not ofphilosophical ideas of posthuman thinking (Nietzsche, Levi-Strauss, Foucault, Deleuze & Guattari, amongst others). The background of posthumanism is an essential American conviction of the omnipotence of technology (exemplified also by the technocratic tradition) what I call technologism. The contemporary fertile soil of posthumanism is the Califomian cyberculture propagating various life forms and body constructions based on computer and digital technology. All the variations of posthumanism have a common denominator, an axiomatic belief that "the body is obsolete." See, for example, Terranova 1996; Dery 1996.
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transmitted through linguistic, philosophic and literary traditions at the same time constituting these traditions (see, for example, Fowler 1987: 34—37). Similarly the concept is used also by Erkki Huhtamo in his study of the idea of "immersion" in the virtual reality discourse; according to him topoi can be considered as "cultural motifs that emerge and are reinvested with meaning in different discursive formations" (Huhtamo 1995a: 178-179). This is my point of view, too. I am using here the term topos to emphasize the discursive character of the concept of cybersex, to indicate that it is a theme or a thought imagery in the cyber discourse. Although cybersex as such is a relatively new and thus not quite definite and established motif in cyber discourse I nevertheless understand it as a topos because in my mind it is actually a contemporary version of an older topos, that of the technologization of sex. This idea has recurrently appeared in the cultural history (literature and arts) in the context of such cultural motifs as, for example, "mechanical woman," "Bachelor Machine" ("Junggesellenmaschine"), "sex machine," erotic and sexual metaphors of machinery in the early industrial culture, "robotic love dolls," and eroticisation and/or sexualisation of various apparatuses (these broader themes I leave, though, for an other discussion; see, for example, Gendolla 1982; Gorsen 1987: 132-140; Huyssen 1986: 65-81; Dery 1996: 183-199). 1.2
Cyber Talk
Against this background cybersex can be approached as an emergent topos in the cyber discourse pertinent to cyberculture. That is, it can be understood as a recurrent discursive theme taking shape at the moment, as a self-reflecting pattern of thought, or a linguistic figure. In a word, cybersex is a phantasm (though already based on real-existing technology), generating futuristic visions and Utopian dreams of technologically liberated sex, of an "ultimate sexual revolution." According to cyber theorists sex will never again be the same as it used to be. "Cybersex is about making a cyborg," claims William Bogard, on the ground that "sex 'itself, 'real' sex is already long dead." According to him "cybersex is not exploitation, but the purest form of male hysteria, a final, 'clean' solution to the whole 'problem' of female sexuality" (sic);5 on the other hand, though, cybersex is "[njothing less than realizing the dream of unlimited sex, sex without limits" (Bogard 1996: 154-158). But then again - as if there were no contradictions at all although sex is claimed to be limitless, it is at the same time proclaimed as disappeared: What is sex today? It is everything and nothing or, alternately, it is a pure residue, the hyperreal projection of something dead, or left over from another time, that we can only recover in the dial-up, playback mode of postindustrial societies. Sex is a decoy, sex is a mock-up, a phantasm.
5
This remark is quite revealing in the sense that - as I am assuming - cybersex is a male projection of future sex, a male fantasy, at last to get female sexuality under control, at any time available for the male sexual subject - of course, for the sexual well-being of women, too. The issue is not necessarily the "taming" of female sex but rather, expanding female sexuality into a free zone of genderless pleasuredome of sex, into a dreamland of unisexual - or multisexual - sex. This point, though, needs to be elaborated in an other discussion.
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It is dissolving into its screen, into information, its body is becoming a data phantom. As a function of bodies, sex is, or soon will be, history, that is, obsolete - too dangerous, too uncertain, too exhausting. Like everything else, soon your only "access" is a password. Sex is like history today, it just keeps being over, (ibid.: 160)
But no problem, if sex is dead, and if the body is going to disappear (and if history has come to an end which is the ultimate claim in this "the end'V'post everything" discourse), the salvation, of course, is technology. Sex, as everything else, is going to be restored in a new, technological form. Or, as Arthur Kroker and Michael A. Weinstein put it, the human being, and accordingly human sexuality will be transformed by a technological mutation of the body: "The organic body shatters into mirrored fractals, vision explodes into a delirium of virtual optics, speech dissolves into the ecstasy of the rhetoric machine, and the sex organs happily opt for the alt.bondage file of future sex" (Kroker & Weinstein 1994: 77; italics mine). In the same spirit media are recycling - now and then with ironic undertones the sensational message of future sex exceeding all the conventional limits, for example: "Equipped with a cyber helmet and a data suit it should be possible to experience as deceptively real every imaginable sexual adventure" and to have "sex with film stars, sex without end, weightless sex, sex on foreign planets, sex with everybody and everything" (Esser 1996:25,29).' Immediate sexual pleasures with anybody or anything any time around the world; a new form of free sex, virtual promiscuity; the computer as the "sex machine"; the ultimate sexual revolution - this is the impression one gets when reading enthusiastic and euphoric descriptions of cybersex published since the beginning of the nineties. It must be emphasized that the idea of cybersex is intrinsically related to the visions concerning the transformation of the whole human-corporeal existence in the contemporary technoculture. For example, Arthur Kroker, a Canadian technothinker and a theorist of digital life, sees no future for the human being as the human being. According to him the human body will quite soon be replaced by a techno-body which lives in cyberspace, virtually: The twentieth century might have begun with Nietzsche's prophecy of the death of God, and the triumph of the will to power, but it surely ends with the death of the human species as we have known it, and the disappearance of the will to power into its opposite - the will to virtuality. The will to virtuality? Not Oswald Spengler's decline of western civilization, but the recline of the West into the society of virtual incorporations: interfacing, rendering, mapping, queing, and modelling as the predatory life signs of an emergent life-form: digital reality. Data Bodies: halfcode/half-flesh. Pure interface culture. In the 1960s, McLuhan theorized in Understanding Media that the technological media of communication were in his term, "extensions of man," electronic outerings of the central nervous system. But that was then, and this is now. Because in the 1990s it's exactly the opposite. Not technology as an electronic extension of the human sensorium, but the human species as a hotwired extension of digital reality. No longer the will to technology, but the vanishing of technology into to will to virtuality. Hacking human flesh by way of artificial intelligence, virtual reality
6
Translation mine. These kinds of exaggerated, often ecstatic, visions of the immense possibilities of cybersex have been typical for the popular media through the nineties. For example, in Germany the news magazines Der Spiegel, Stern and Focus and the trend magazines Max and Prinz have published several articles on cybersex presenting it as the latest - and the last - sexual revolution.
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processors, and the violent force-field of the electronic media is the sure and certain way by which virtuality actually eats the human body, becoming digi-skin: silicon flesh, 7-second brains, recombinant eyes, and android ears at the end of the century. (Kroker 1996: 51-52) 7
Could this kind of visioning concerning the disappearance of human corporeal existence in flesh and possibilities to extend sex from the body to the realm of apparatuses, or even to replace corporeal sex by technological sex, really mean something more than futuristic imagination characteristic to the often euphoric cyber discourse - or to the cultural studies speeded up by postmodern science fiction? I mean, could all this be taken seriously?* Actually, it should be, in my opinion, not on the grounds that it should necessarily have something to do with reality, but because the idea of cybersex can be seen as an indication of a new way of conceiving the relationships between technology and the human being. Cybersex is a symptom of the times. According to the cyber discourse we are living not only postmodern times, but moreover, a new postbiological, postevolutionary and posthuman era has begun. Thus, for me cybersex is not so much about sexuality but a techno-utopian dream of transforming the human being into a machine, into a digital apparatus, into a cybernetic system; in the end, into a cyborg (cyborgisation of the human being). This kind of radical reconceptualisation of the human being in terms of technology is understandable in the sense that in the perspective of posthumanism, built-in into the cyber discourse, the human being does not exist any more. Accordingly, the whole idea of homo sapiens should be replaced by a new concept, homo cyber. That is why in my mind cybersex is not so much sex but cyber-sex. If Freud once said that "anatomy is fate" is it technology in the contemporary world that is our destiny? This fundamental question concerning the constitution of 7
Kroker 's proclamation can, of course, be interpreted as irony. In this sense one may think that it is a kind of hip-postmodern mixture of post-McLuhanian visioning, accelerated Baudrillard, negative theology of a technological future and playful nihilism. In short, it is at once unabashed laughter at the funeral and hilarious sublime in front of an abyss, poetical release of pleasure produced by horror. In this sense one may read Kroker - as many other cyber theorists - as intellectual entertainment, as extravagant science fiction in the form of "theory." The problem is, however, that at the same time as these kinds of visions produce intellectual amusement, they efface the fact that the world itself is already to a large extent a dystopy come true. Or is Kroker laughing at this dystopy - in the same way as Gibson ridicules with dark irony contemporary technocracy ruled by transnational corporations? * Maybe it is appropriate to remark that the question of what can be taken seriously and what not is well-founded with regard to the cyber talk typical in the postmodemistic cyberculture, especially in its home base, in the Califomian Silicon Valley, where you can havefun in the warm Californian sun. For example, the editor-in-chief of the subcultural "mutazine," Mondo 2000, R. U. Sirius (sic), hinting at the transformation of the 60's countercultural psychedelic spirit into the 90s cyberdelic attitude, poses himself the question - can you take this seriously? - and promtly has the answer: "European and eastern bohemians could never really embrace the psychedelic experience. It's not history that haunts them so much as the toilet training of classical education - the structures of credibility. California - INcredible home of Disneyland, Hollywood, Silicon Valley, and LSD culture hasn't merely UNmade history, it's flattened time. From our vantage point, we look forward as easily as we look backwards" (Sirius 1996). About the critique of cyber talk, see, for example, Sobchack 1996. On my behalf, I would say that I am trying here to take the issue of cybersex seriously - as far as it is possible; the rest is, of course, fun, built-in into this topic.
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the human being is the reason why the concept o f cybersex deserves a sober-minded consideration. But the problem is h o w to approach this theme without losing one's way in the discursive phantasmagoria surrounding cybersex.
2.
The Idea of
Cybersex
Cybersex was originally a playful thought experiment, made by Howard Rheingold, a prolific computer journalist, one o f the founding fathers o f network communities and a leading figure in the Califomian cyberculture.' According to his own story he just thought up the idea o f "telesex," "sex at a distance" or "technosex," in the same manner as the "quantum physicists" use a "technique o f imagining a certain set of conditions as a kind o f mental scenario, a gedankenexperiment, a 'thought experiment' [...] to induce people to put themselves into an appropriate mindset for seeing the implications o f a new discovery." "The teledildonics story" was first published in 1990 as "a short riff' through the net on the WELL 10 and subsequently in "an avantgarde, technology-oriented 'mutazine'," Mondo 2000 (Summer 1990). A third, elaborated version o f this seminal C/r-Scripture o f cybersex appeared a year later in Rheingold's book on virtual reality in which a chapter titled "Teledildonics and Beyond" essentially recounted the original idea." (Rheingold 1991: 3 4 8 - 3 4 9 )
» The Califomian cyber culture is a contradictory phenomenon consisting of countercultural community aspirations, New Age idealism and hip-postmodern celebration of digitality and virtuality. Rheingold's background is Whole Earth Review, a grassroots magazine in the spirit of the American pragmatic frontierism emphasizing socially conscious community life (see Rheingold 1993; Miller 1995). However, more important than that for the coming into being of the idea of cybersex was the transformation of cyber culture taking place at that time. The techno-hedonistic way of life developed around the computer industry in Silicon Valley, and manifested especially by the trendy magazine Mondo 2000 (later also by Wired), was taking the upper hand. In her critique of cyber culture, especially of the discourse favorised by it, Vivian Sobchack pays attention to the sharp contradiction between, on the one hand, the original utopiandemocratic countercultural attitude of the grassroots computer movement, and the "privileged, self-interested, consumerist, techno-addict and male Libertarianism" of the Mondo people, or "mondoids," on the other. The early guerrilla radicalism was soon turned into cynical cyber decadence, and the former hackers, crackers and cyberpunks became smart businessmen running their own stream-lined digital business, or they started as highly paid specialists serving capitalintensive computer companies, indulging themselves in free time in frenzy cyber visions and luxuries of hi-tech culture (Sobchack 1996: 332-336). Reading Mondo 2000, "one might think that we live in the best of all possible worlds, or perhaps, more precisely, that we live best only in possible worlds" (Sobchack 1994: 18). For a critique of cyber culture, see also Ross 1991: 75-99 and Barbrook & Cameron 1996. 10 WELL (Whole Earth 'Lectronic Link) is a computer conferencing system that enables people around the world to carry on public conversations and exchange private e-mails, started in the mid-80s in the Bay Area, California, as a computer network extension of the grassroots magazine Whole Earth Review. ' ι Rheingold (1991:345) draws on an idea first proposed by Theodor Nelson: "The word 'dildonics' was coined in 1974 by that zany computer visionary Theodor Nelson (inventor of hypertext and designer of the world's oldest unfinished software project, appropriately named 'Xanadu'™), to describe a machine (patent #3,875,932) invented by a San Francisco hardware hacker by the
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However, at that time - at the very beginning of the '90s when virtual reality was more fancy than fact - there was, of course, no technology to make reality of the visions Rheingold presented in his techno-romantic writings. In this sense it is appropriate to remember that Rheingold - although himself very enthusiastic about the idea - was cautious enough to speak about "teledildonics" in the future tense. In his description he used such explicit expressions as "[t]hirty years from now" and "a couple of decades hence"; that is, in his opinion cybersex might be reality sometime around 2020,12 not today. He also did not hesitate to point out how far the state-of-the-art technology at that time still was from achieving capabilities applicable to cybersex; his estimation was sober: "very far." For him speaking about teledildonics was something which warranted the remark "Or so the scenario goes" - that is, something that was a vision, not reality, (ibid.: 345-346) Nevertheless, Rheingold himself also described teledildonics - in contemporary terms, cybersex - so lively and enthusiastically as if it were already reality. A parallel case is the way virtual reality (VR) was discussed at that time. For example, Jaron Lanier, the inventor of not only a virtual reality technology but also the term as well as a whole language to talk about it, described VR as a kind of new world, just waiting there ready to step into. Lanier kept saying, for example, "virtual worlds aren't pictures, they're places" (Druckrey 1991: 5), VR is "a new objective level of reality," even "a combination of the objectivity of the physical world with the unlimitedness and the uncensored content normally associated with dreams or imagination" (Barlow 1990: 44-51; Russel 1990: 186-187).13 This kind of language usage, a discourse, suggested that VR was already a real thing, although it was a phantasm, an imaginary projection, though based on real-existing technology making it possible to render, on a quite modest level, spaces and simple figures in digital simulation. From these experiments with computer simulation an actual virtual reality was still far away. In the same manner Rheingold's "piece" on teledildonics reads as a futuristic vision, more a phantasm than a concrete proposition; but anyhow, at the time of writing it "struck a nerve" and provoked "within hours" a frenzied discussion in the net. Although - or maybe just because - it was, according to the author, "an essay I wrote in ten minutes, forfun" this thought experiment "got out of control" (Rheingold 1991: 349; italics mine). That was the "weird part" of the story, and there was more to come. It spread out as thousands of copies around the world via electronic mail. According to Rheingold, "almost all the people" contacting him "seemed to believe that such a device actually exists somewhere" (sic) (ibid.).
name of How Wachspress, a device capable of converting sound into tactile sensations. The erotogenic effect depends upon where you, the consumer, decide to interface your anatomy with the tactile simulator. VR [Virtual Reality] raises the possibility of a far more sophisticated technology." It might be interesting to notice that a cyberpunk film classic, Blade Runner, directed by Ridley Scott, takes place in Los Angeles in 2019; see Bukatman 1997: 10. 13 On the other hand, interestingly enough, Lanier already at that time made a rather wry remark on cybersex: "[t]he reality here, the virtual reality, is that you'd have a girl made of polygons. And no one wants to have sex with a bunch of polygons" (in Dery 1996: 217; italics mine).
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Soon the world news media got interested in "teledildonics" and interviews with and articles on Rheingold were published in several countries. In spite of reservations about the feasibility of teledildonics made by Rheingold, telesex got the status of a real thing - like so many other things around cyberspace and virtual reality. Teledildonics was hyped up; a fiction became reality. In Germany Der Spiegel wrote a story about "the next computer revolution" - and Rheingold was invited there to a computer marketing convention to speak about "future prospects for virtual reality"; but actually the conference attendees expected him to tell about "the ways to have sex with computers." (ibid.) 2.1
A Utopian Dream?
Now, you may ask, how was it possible that such a thing that did not really exist aroused such enthusiasm worldwide - and was even taken seriously? One reason is, of course, sex; sex always sells. But there is more, in my opinion: a growing fascination with new technologies, be it digital equipment or genetic engineering, or what ever (see Bender & Druckrey 1994).14 Especially everything which has something to do with cyberspace and virtual reality - both of them as such in many cases more imagination than reality - tends to elicit a kind of religious-erotic enchantment. It is evident that the cyber world is not only fascinating, it is seductive. According to Michael Heim the "computer's allure is more than utilitarian or aesthetic, it is erotic" (Heim 1993: 85)." In this respect, to put things in the right context, into the perspective of technoculture, it is appropriate to quote Rheingold at length. When people seem to want a technology to develop, to literally lust a possible new toy, that need can take a force of its own, especially given the rates of progress in the enabling technologies and the enormous market-driven forces that will be unleashed when sex at a distance becomes possible. Yes, teledildonics is a titillating fantasy, far from the serious human realities of medical imagining or teleoperated machine guns [sic]. But once you start thinking about sex at a distance, it's amazing how many other questions about future possibilities present themselves, questions about big changes that might be in store for us. Given the rate of development of VR technologies, we don't have a great deal of time to tackle questions of morality, privacy, personal identity, and even the prospect of a fundamental change in human nature. When the VR revolution really gets rolling, we are likely to be too busy turning into whatever we are turning into to analyze or debate the consequences. (Rheingold 1991: 349-350)
14
Maybe the apex of this kind of technological fascination is the techno-biological world view, or better a world explanation, presented by Kevin Kelly, executive editor of the cybercultural magazine Wired, in his book Out of Control. The New Biology of Machines (1995) in which science, scientisism, science fiction, New Age visionarism and popular postmodernism are amalgamated into a prophecy of a Post-Darwinian universe. 15 For Heim erotics means the same as for the ancient Greeks: Eros which "springs from a feeling of insufficiency or inadequacy"; "our affair" with computers is seeking "a symbiotic relationship and ultimately a mental marriage to technology" (Heim 1993: 85; italics mine). In my mind this kind of metaphoric language itself also manifests the seductiveness of the cyber discourse, the enchantment of the highly esoteric rhetorical figures favorised by this discourse.
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What is so striking here is, first, that technology is claimed to be a primus motor, the first mover in human life. The imperative of technology is taken as a selfevident driving force of society and culture, inevitably dictating the objectives as well as the means of the development of the human condition. Technology is seen as "a force of its own," as a fatal force from which there is no escape. Raymond Williams has an appropriate concept for this kind of fatalism, technological determinism (Williams 1975: 13). Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer, for their part, have thematized this kind of thinking in the context of the modern, using as the key concept instrumental reason·, that is, technological rationalism without value considerations, without reflexion of the aims (Horkheimer & Adomo 1979 [1947]; Held 1980). Second, also striking is a view according to which new inventions, all the same whether "toys" or "titillating fantasy," have as such so much of a kind of erotic attractiveness - if not sex appeal - in the eyes of people that these inventions appear as coveted commodities, objects of desire. Third, a claim that there is no time - because we are said to be "too busy" - to think about the consequences of, to say nothing about the alternatives to, this kind of "progress." Rheingold admits, referring to the astute critic of computer culture, Joseph Weizenbaum (see, for example, Weizenbaum 1976; Weizenbaum & Haefner 1992), that this kind of "embracing technology" could be considered as antihuman - but Rheingold does not hesitate to add flippantly: "perhaps it is" (Rheingold 1991: 350). For in the perspective of technoculture teledildonics is, of course, "inevitable," coming into being by itself. And even in spite of immense technical obstacles stated clearly by Rheingold (for example, the necessity of complicated software design, of extremely high computing capability and network capacity and of minimizing system time lag, as well as of gaining human-like sensitivity for sensors and effectors; Rheingold 1991: 346-347; cf. Dery 1996: 215)" he still presents teledildonics not as a fancy, but as a potentially feasible technology. But what really makes this imaginary invention important and interesting is not in the first place the question of what is technologically possible (in the long run there are, of course, no limits for technological ingenuity and development), but the idea. At the time when Rheingold presented his idea of teledildonics it was a kind of revelation: technologically extended sex manifestated a Utopian dream of the world where not only sex but everything else would be totally different than today. For Rheingold teledildonics appeared to be a prerequisite for nothing less than a new kind of community life, not only on a local but also on a global level (cf. Rheingold 1993). In this Utopian perspective cybersex was seen as a preliminary
16
It is important to notice that still in 1996 when the digital technology already had acquired a definitely higher level of development those effects imagined by Rheingold were not yet possible to achieve. As Mark Dery remarks: "It would require a global fiber-optic network in concert with massively parallel supercomputers capable of monitoring and controlling the numberless sensors and effectorsfittedto every hill and dale, plane and protuberance of the body's topography. Furthermore, a reticulated fabric of safe, high-speed micro-vibrators is only a mirage, given the state of the art in current technologies." And moreover, to get the feeling of the body present would be quite impossible, namely: "what about the senses of smell and taste, so important in sex? For most, sex without olfactory or gustory stimuli would be like sex with a condom over one's entire body." (Dery 1996: 215)
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phase for not only a world community but a world communion, as the uniting force for the whole of mankind, togetherness through technological intimacy.17 In this sense it is useful to recapitulate - with regard to my theme, the desire for disembodiment - a couple of key points of the Rheingoldian cybersex in order to make it clear how far-reaching were the expectations with which it was associated. 2.2
"Reach out and touch someone "
For Rheingold "[t]he first fully functional teledildonics system will be a communication device, not a sex machine." It will be an "erotic telepresence technology" in order not to have "sexual experiences with machines," but with human beings. Thirty years from now, when portable telediddlers become ubiquitous, most people will use them to have sexual experiences with other people, at a distance, in combinations and configurations undreamed of by precybemetic voluptaries. Through a marriage of virtual reality technology and telecommunication networks, you will be able to reach out and touch someone" - or an entire population - in ways humans have never before experienced. Or so the scenario goes. (Rheingold 1991: 345; italics mine)
Rheingold asks us to imagine that we were about to dress for "a hot night in the virtual village," equipped with a "virtual hand" and "efectors that exert counterforces against your skin," ready to feel somebody present in flesh - although, virtually. Now, imagine plugging your whole sound-sight-touch telepresence system into the telephone network. You see a lifelike but totally artificial visual representation of your own body and of your partner's. Depending on what numbers you dial and which passwords you know and what you are willing to pay (or trade or do), you can find one partner, a dozen, a thousand, in various cyberspaces that are no farther than a telephone number. Your partners) can move independently in the cyberspace, and your representations are able to touch each other, even though your physical bodies might be continents apart. You will whisper in your partner's ear, feel your partner's breath on your neck. You run your hand over your partner s clavicle, and 6000 miles away, an array of effectors are triggered, in just the right sequence, at just the right frequency, to convey the touch exactly the way you wish it to be conveyed, (ibid.; italics mine)
And if you do not like it, "you can turn it all off by flicking a switch" - and "your partner's breath on your neck" will disappear immediately. Just forget conventional erotic and sexual expectations of intimacy, trust and mutual emotions; what matters
17
There already was fertile ground ready for cybersex: the years around the tum of the decade were full of great expectations concerning the imminent "computer revolution." Contributing to this technophile excitement were, for example, William Gibson with his metaphor of cyberspace, Donna Haraway with her mythical figure of cyborg, Jaron Lanier and spectacular promises of the virtual reality (before the sobering), the rapid expansion of the Internet, optimistic views around what soon became known as the "Information Superhighway" and the general media hype surrounding computer and digital technology ("new media"), amongst others. See, for example, Brook & Boal 1995; Bühl 1996; Dovey 1996; Porter 1997; Jones 1997; Dery 1996. ι» The appeal to "reach out and touch someone" is a typical advertising slogan in the US for telephone companies - although, as Peter Wilson remarks, every company, as everyone else, "knows very well that you cannot reach out and touch someone over a phone," and this also is something "what we cannot do in cyberspace"; the very idea of the phone is that it "will save you from being touched' (Wilson 1996: 224-225).
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here is to use "electronic communication technologies to construct an artificial erotic experience." It is like in phone sex, you will have an "experience of disembodiment and of feeling sensations from a body that does not exist physically" (ibid.: 351; italics mine; Rheingold is here referring to the research on phone sex as virtual sex by Allucquere Stone; see Stone 1995a: 244-245; Stone 1995b: 17). Nevertheless, although teledildonics is as easy a thing to do as making a phone call, according to Rheingold it will have tremendous social effects: The secondary social effects of technosex are potentially revolutionary. If technology enables you to experience erotic frissons or deep physical, social, emotional communion with another person with no possibility of pregnancy or sexually transmitted disease, what then of conventional morality, and what of the social rituals and cultural codes that exist solely to enforce that morality? Is disembodiment the ultimate sexual revolution and/or the first step toward abandoning our bodies? (Rheingold 1991: 351-352; italics mine)
It is interesting that Rheingold hurries to emphasize at the very beginning that teledildonics is not a "sex machine"; the idea is not to have "sexual experiences with machines" (ibid.: 345). Or as he originally put it - to stay faithful to the true spirit of the rock-cultural street credibility:" The first fully functional teledildonics system will probably not be "a fucking machine"M (Rheingold 1990: 52). But all the same, he describes it as an apparatus, as a piece of equipment, namely: as a portable telediddler. Of course, it makes a difference to have sex with a machine and through a machine with someone·, but this is not the issue now. What counts here is that any dildonics system, whether it be mechanical, electronic or digital, is a technical device to which you have contact in the first place, not to a real person in flesh - which, of course, does not exclude that by using any kind of technical aid to have sex you can imagine your partner as present for you (of which the best example is precisely phone sex, actually, a form of virtual sex). In this sense dildo-sex is always already both, mediated and imaginary sex. Accordingly, in teledildonics you do not have a body-to-body contact to a human being but instead to a highly sophisticated digital dildo system, to an apparatus and conditioned by it you are dealing with your own fantasies. 2.3
Dildo-Sex
What actually is a dildo - evidently refered to by the second component in the Rheingoldian neologisms "teledildonics" and its derivation "telediddler"? As we know, a dildo is a little sex aid, a female masturbation device, an artificial penis
'»The idea of a "sex machine" refers back to James Brown's famous rock piece "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine" in which, according to Mark Dery: "Brown reinvents himself as a plug-in stud, tireless as a punch press but still salty with sweat, soft to the touch. He imagines himself a prosthetically enhanced satyr who retains enough of his humanity to be able to savor the pleasures of the flesh" (Dery 1996: 183; italics mine). 2o In the original text on cybersex (1990) Rheingold has as a short introduction a piece of American countercultural pop lore in which a "fucking machine" appears as a catchword: "There was a young man named Racine, who invented a fucking machine. Concave or convex, it fit either sex, and was exceedingly simple to clean."
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surrogate.21 In this sense teledildonics is a latter day high-tech version of an ages old tradition of sex-aid gadgets for women, used alone, or with a male or female partner or partners. This fact is curiously effaced by Rheingold in his description of teledildonics; his interest is telesex, that is, sex at a distance, not masturbation, sex in utmost proximity, at one's own body — to say nothing of the dimensions of female sex with regard to dildo practices. Rheingold is seemingly so fascinated with distant horizons of technologically mediated sex that he does not see what is there in his nearest vicinity of him: his own body and its various sexual functions. In general, it seems that in teledildonics the human body is not taken as sexual subject capable of enjoying corporeal pleasure not only as a shared experience but alone, all by itself, literally single-handed. Dildo-sex is primarily what may be called autosex: it is basically sex for one, sex with yourself, although in fantasies - virtually - with others; in this sense it is related to what Freud called autoeroticism.22 What teledildonics is new in is, of course, digital technology. But more interesting, in fact, is the gender orientation of teledildonics: while a conventional dildo is a female sex gadget, teledildonics is a male invention reflecting assumably male fantasies of a woman always available and ready for sex. Teledildonics is a dreamland of free sex, from the male point of view, but generously for women, too. In this sense the function principles of teledildonics are interesting: first, it is not any more a device for women only, but also for men; thus a unisex apparatus; and second, it is equipment to produce a shared experience, sex for two or many, although separately, alone. But in spite of this joint activity teledildonics, like all other auto-sex techniques, basically remains as masturbation, even if in a sophisticated, technologically extended form. On the other hand, unlike solitary masturbation teledildonics is not only - what comes to the partner - an imaginary experience, that is, a private fantasy, but instead a virtual experience, a simulacrum, shared with an other or with others. This latter feature of teledildonics is actually the qualitatively new with regard to conventional dildo-sex: it transforms masturbation from a solitary pleasure to an enjoyment in togetherness, to an act in which the participants can take part separately, in their own privateness, but simultaneously. In this sense teledildonics is, paradoxically, lonely sex not alone but in concomitance; it is loneliness in togeth21
Feminists are often not willing to accept the definition of a dildo as a "penis surrogate," because in their mind - quite understandably - it implies that female sexual desire and gratification are determined in terms of, and hence dependent on, male sexuality, through the male sex organ, even in the actual absence of it. Regardless what we call a dildo, it does, however, in my mind have a similar - if not the same - function as the penis; even so far as that dildos are usually in one way or another designed so as to suggest the penis. - 1 would like to thank Dagmar Schmauks (Technische Universität, Berlin) for bringing this feminist point of view to my attention. According to Sigmund Freud's (1996: 83) classical definition of the concept of Autoerotisms, autoeroticism, this kind of sexual activity is typical for infants who do not yet experience their own body separated from the others, from the surrounding world in general; that is why infants do not direct their sexual desire to other persons but to themselves, using their own body as the sex object and the source of their sensual as well as sexual gratification. For all kinds of autoerotic sex the diffuse relation between subject and object, between self and others, is important. In this sense autosex is sex in which the sex object is foremost one's own corporeal being and, through imagination, the other's.
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erness, and vice versa. Precisely for this reason teledildonics is a paradoxical phenomenon: virtual togetherness in real seclusion, simulated partners encountered in solitude. In the end, teledildonics actually seems to mean promiscuity, even in a form far exceeding all the previous ones of free sex known up to present in the history of mankind: no lesser than sex with "an entire population" - or so the scenario goes. As a new form of masturbation you can experience virtual promiscuity in cyberspace with heavenly bodies, and change partner or partners at will, immediately, by a mouse click. In this respect, what is striking in Rheingold's description of teledildonics is that there is no word about masturbation in it, and actually very little about various aspects of sex in general; his description is more about cyberspace than about sex. Moreover, although for Rheingold teledildonics is an "erotic telepresence technology" it remains enigmatic what in fact is erotic here; at least, his descpription of teledildonics is very vague in terms of erotics. Then, surprisingly enough, although there is not a word about love, the picture which emerges from Rheingold's dream of "a hot night in the virtual village" is rosy romantic in the same sense as girls in teenage use to dream about an encounter with a loved one: "You will whisper in your partner's ear, feel your partner's breath on your neck. You run your hand over your partner's clavicle" and so on. In Rheingold's fantasy, everything that in sexual and erotic encounters in real life is corporeal and sensual - the bliss of flesh now somehow takes place in an astral existence, in a sanitized vacuum of virtuality. Cybersex ä la Rheingold is not so much pure sex but sex purified - purified from the temptations of flesh; it is clean sex.23 On the other hand, in Rheingold's description of teledildonics, sex is focused on genital contacts, of course not direct, but mediated. He is suggesting that in telesex you can "let your fingers do the walking through cyperspace" and thus "map your genital effectors to your manual sensors and have direct genital contact by shaking hands" (sic) (Rheingold 1991:352; italics mine). Rheingold asks what will happen "to social touching when nobody knows where anybody else's erogenous zones are located." Admittedly, quite a perplexing question in terms of sociality; but with regard to sex proper, one may also ask what about the privacy of the sexual encounter and the intimacy of sexual intercourse? Rheingold assumes that "[p]rivacy and identity and intimacy will become tightly coupled into something we don't have a name for yet." And it might even be, "that the physical commingling of genital sensations will come to be regarded as a less intimate act than the sharing of the data structures of your innermost self-representations" (ibid.). 2.4
My Body as a Nobody?
There is no reason to deny that //teledildonics will one day be reality, then sexual encounters, and what may be even more important, the concepts of the body and the subject, will be different. The problem only is how far that which is virtual can 23
It is possible, of course, to assume that behind this prudish view of sex is the panic-ridden discussion on safe sex during the late eighties and early nineties following the AIDS scare. In a situation where every kind of direct body contact could be lethal teledildonics could appear as an ultimate form of safe sex, sex without absolutely any contact between bodies.
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be taken as real: how something which consists of simulation can be experienced as real, as social reality; social reality in terms of sexuality and erotics. Until now what is social has always been at the same time something corporeal, experienced through, on and with bodies; our social identity - and thus our ways to understand privacy and intimacy - has been bodily conditioned (Turner 1997; Shilling 1994; Falk 1994; Featherstone et al. 1991). My body is myself, not just anybody, never nobody. I am a subject in my body and through my body, with all its implications, and this body is constituted socially, primarily in social interaction, although nowadays more and more also in an interaction with technology. In teledildonics, however, the whole concept of the social acquires a totally new meaning: I am not sure anymore with whom I am contacting, and what is even more confusing, who I am in a virtual body. Does it mean that my body is just anybody, or better, a nobody? And in fact, what is the body in teledildonics: a digital construction or an imaginary object without the subject, or a figure of pure fantasy?24 The reason for this confusing - and one might say embarrassing - situation is very simple: instead of concrete bodies consisting of flesh we encounter in telesex "totally artificial visual representations," and not only one but "a thousand" of them. We can "touch" these "representations" and "experience erotic frissons," and - this is quite surprising when taking into account that teledildonics is expressly sex without physical body contact - we can feel "deep physical, social, emotional communion with another person." But you may ask, how can you be physically non-existent and still perceive yourself and someone else physically present at the same time? How is it possible to feel even social and emotional communion with someone - or somebody - who exists only as a representation (representing who or what?)? To explain these contradictions there is no help to be found in Rheingold's vision. All in all, what emerges in the last analysis from Rheingold's dream of teledildonics is an idealistic, or better, an ideatic concept of the human being. Human corporeal existence is replaced by being virtual in cyberspace. The bodies we are going to encounter in telesex are simulated bodies, a kind of Platonic idea bodies or body ideas. What is problematic here is that what in fact is a virtual entity, a simulacrum, is real for Rheingold; he does not make a clear ontological distinction between reality and virtuality. With this remark I am not saying that virtual could not be experienced as real·, I am only saying that virtual is not the same as real.
3.
Cybersex in Practice
A couple of years after Rheingold had presented his idea of teledildonics two art students, Stahl Stenslie (a Norwegian) and Kirk Woolford (an American), working in Germany, at the Kunsthochschule fiir Medien, Cologne, demonstrated their invention, a "sex machine" consisting of screens with simulated bodies, body suits 24
A problem in general is the ontological status of the objects in cyberspace; evidently there is a need for a conceptual analysis with regard to notions of virtual, imaginary, fictional, fantastic, illusionary, etc. This is, though, a problem to be discussed in an other context.
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with sensors and vibrators, and interactive contacts through the computer network. Although this cybersex apparatus in comparison to the Rheingoldian vision is technically still quite modest and uncomfortable - in fact, seemingly un-sexy25 - it nevertheless was the first operative cybersex system in the world. The StenslieWoolford cybersex apparatus was presented in 1993 as a sensation getting much media coverage world-wide. Of course, partly responsible for the great expectations, and accordingly, for the media hype, were its creators, two cyber enthusiasts who, in the hip spirit of the postmodern pop/technoculture, were promoting their invention as a definitive form of future sex.26 Both of these cybersex systems, that imagined by Rheingold and that realized by Stenslie and Woolford, have in common that they consist of a sensor-effector bodysuit making it possible for the partners to feel, through the telepresence, the body of the other as a simulated experience. The essential difference is that the Rheingoldian imaginary apparatus, in addition to the telepresence, also comprises a virtual reality technology enabling the partners to immerse in a computer-generated 3D space in which they can have a virtual sexual encounter through their digital representations. This whole-body immersive experience is not possible with the Stenslie-Woolford system: you are not transferred into the "inside" of a digital world, into a virtual space enclosing you altogether; you stay "outside," connected to the system, feeling the presence of others through the screen and on your body. But on the other hand, precisely this experience of telepresence, essential for any kind of cybersex system, is reality in the Stenslie-Woolford apparatus, although, in comparison to the cybersex fantasies, on quite an elementary level (of telepresence see, for example, McLaughlin et al. 1997).27 Nevertheless, Stenslie and Woolford speak about their invention as if Rheingold's dream were already materialized - and even more. But contrary to Rheingold's romantic vision of cybersex as a worldwide network of human contacts in order to share the deep emotion of belonging together - that is, being part of mankind experiencing an erotic communion - for Stenslie and Woolford cybersex is plain sex, though in quite new dimensions: Then you maybe will get a real orgasm through a machine. We are moving around in fantastic computer worlds which are able to be experienced and felt by us. We can realize all our dirty little fantasies. We can do it with actors and actresses. We can do it with our mother. We can do it with dogs and faiiy-tale figures. And as soon as we have done it enough, we can then make them all die. That will be great. And it is not dangerous. No AIDS, no breakfast after, no police, and no body smells. (Stenslie in Berg 1994: 38)2' 25
At least, this is the impression which I got seeing this apparatus in operation during a demonstration organised in the context of ISEA 1994 at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Helsinki, Finland. * See, for example, Berg 1994; Grimm 1994. 27 The concept of telepresence suggests that through computer networks, in cyberspace, it is possible for the human being to be present in two separate places at the same time, as a real-existing corporeal individual in front of a computer terminal, and as a bodiless being consisting of a digital representation of that individual appearing on the screen, even in the form of an artificial identity, as an avatar. One may still ask a fundamental question: what is actually present in the telepresence - a real person or a virtual entity having its own characteristics? 28 My translation from German.
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Of course, Stenslie's statement can be taken as promotional exaggeration, as hype, so typical of cyber discourse (see, for example, the cyberculture magazines Mondo 2000 and Wired which describe the digital world with an excited techno-erotic language) and at the same time as a manifestation of a postmodern "cool" attitude towards sex (see, for example, Kroker & Kroker 1988; Getty & Winkelmann 1996). But still, it is striking that cybersex is once again described as a new curious form of promiscuity: sex with all imaginable beings, all the same whether they are human or not. Still more interesting, in my opinion, is the anxious and tormented, dark vision of sex implied in Stenslie's description. Here, conventional non-technological human sex is seen as a complicated and oppressive matter to be escaped from into the relieving world of cyberspace - into the world of the virtual sublime. Cybersex seems to open a way for discarding sex as a human relationship, to get rid of the burden of flesh, to overthrow all the obstacles and restrictions brought about by human biology, society and culture. Cybersex appears as a panacea for all the frustrations pertinent to the human sex life. It is safe sex in every respect, "McDonaldization" of sex: you are always sure of what you get because everything is under strict control excluding all the unexpected disturbances (on the idea of the "McDonaldization" of society, see Ritzer 1993). You just have your satisfaction - and then you simply exterminate your partner or partners. Pure sex, distilled from all the other ingredients.
3.1
"Schizophrenic Body "
Recently, Stenslie has been working to elaborate the concept of the original "sex machine" he constructed with Woolford. The aim of Stenslie's new cybersex endeavour is to construct a technology which he calls the "networking of flesh." The idea is to study possibilities of interactive human/machine systems with regard to sex. In this purpose he has set up several projects to find out how the relationships function between the body and identity on the one hand, and interface technology and computer networks on the other. In the framework of these projects he is experimenting in various dimensions in what he calls "networked flesh": "The CyberSM Project" deals with sadomasochism, "The Inter-Skin Project" has the objective to turn the body into interface and "The Bio Machine" tries to develop "synthetic flesh." The concept of Stenslie's endeavour puts into foreground, instead of Rheingoldian immersion in virtual reality, interface technology in order to reconstitute the human body as a man-machine hybrid capable of experiencing sex beyond the limits of immediate body contact. In this sense Stenslie's vision of cybersex has much in common with the idea of being cyborg, proposed on the theoretical level as a new paradigm of posthuman life by Donna Haraway (Haraway 1991 [1985]; Gray 1995), and experimented in practice by Stelarc (1991) with his technobody constructions in his body art performances. It is actually quite intriguing that instead of emphasizing the immateriality of cybersex, as is usual in the cyber discourse (about immateriality see, for example, Moser & MacLeod 1996; Rötzer 1991), Stenslie speaks for the corporeal aspects of technologically expanded sex.
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For him interactive digital technology means a possibility to create what he calls "teletactility"; that is, human touch mediated through a telepresence apparatus. Especially interesting in this respect is the concept of the human body - the body image - thought out by Stenslie to explicate his view of sex with the help of teletactility. Although he is striving beyond the body, he nevertheless speaks about flesh. Is there a contradiction in his argumentation, at least in that sense that the human body - to be a body - necessitates flesh for its constitution? In general, is there corporeality without flesh? How does the body matter in this context? Stenslie's starting point is the idea that instead of one integral and intact body the human being nowadays has what he calls a "schizophrenic body," a split construction which on the one hand consists of a material entity survivable some seventy years and, on the other, of a "transcendental self of mediated realities." According to him this double-entity, the "cyberspace body," is actually already an old idea, familiar through the qualities of an ideal body projected by science fiction fantasies. But moreover, what is new is the body as a "personification in the consensual reality of interactive, computer-generated environments."29 (Stenslie 1996: 179; italics mine; for the consensual, cf. Gibson 1995: 67) In other words, the idea is to expand the body beyond its biological, physiological and anatomical limits, into the realm of technology: In my project on the virtual body I am striving for "tabula rasa"; that is, I want to define and study the body anew in the context of the new media. I see the body as well as the personality, as a construction. The body, as we knew it, no longer exists. New technology has enabled us to perceive and experience it on radically new ways. The body of the future is more than ever before dependent on context, presentation and abstraction. The resulting replicant technobody recreates itself continuously out ofsamples at hyperspeed. It disintegrates and recombines according to principles of lust rather than necessity. Cybererotics is the new libido. (Stenslie 1996: 179; italics mine)30
Against this background, it is evident that for Stenslie cybersex means far more than "a hot night in the virtual village" a la Rheingold, that is, plain computergenerated sexual pleasure. At stake is nothing less than reconstituting the human being through the hybridisation of the body and technology, a rebirth of man through technology - evidently a Utopian project which resembles science fiction, especially cyberpunk visions. The idea is to turn the human being into a cybernetic organism functioning under the control of digital technology, a cyborg, a techno-being having a "terminal identity" (Bukatman 1993; Siivonen 1996). In this respect cybersex is, one might say, instead of Rheingoldian aspiration to an erotic communion of humankind, an endeavour of a New Creation of humanity. This is essentially a posthuman vision of the human being: technology is postulated as the constitutive basis of life, posthuman life. It is interesting that in this scenario sex has such a constitutive role for the existence of the human being, although not in the sense of biological reproduction but as a technological reconstruction of the human species as homo cyber. In other 29
It could be noticed how "consensual," this magic word of Gibsonian cyberspace discourse, once again reverberates in Stenslie's sex vision. 30 Translated from German by Nadine Wersing.
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words, sex is not a precondition to procreate offspring, that is, for begetting of and giving birth to the next generation. It is a technocultural context for a re-creation of the existing generation, for a new birth of the already-born, through immensely extended sexual experiences. In this sense, on the horizon is shimmering more than what Bryan Turner (1997: 6) calls the somatic society:3' Stenslie is pointing the way to a sexual society, to a techno-sex society. 3.2
A Free Zone of Multi-Sexuality
What is, then, sex as sex in this context? It turns out that the aim is not that kind of tender "erotic frisson" you get when whispering "in your partner's ear" and feeling "your partner's breath on your neck," to say nothing of "deep physical, social, emotional communion with another person," all that which Rheingoldian technoromantic teledildonics promises. For Stenslie cybersex means, first, "CyberSM," that is, sadomasochism through the "networked flesh." The idea is "fetishism and the sensation of pleasure and pain implicated by it" (Stenslie 1996: 179). The users - to speak of partners is maybe actually no longer appropriate in this context - of this cyberSM apparatus can experience "digitized 3D objects" representing "perforated and fetishistic decorated bodies" (ibid.), latex outfits with stimulators giving electro-shocks, and effectors and vibrators mediating "teletactile" touches on the erogeneous zones of the users' bodies. According to Stenslie, the effects achieved are "more spectacular and imposing than gentle and subtle"; anyhow, the idea is "to make the corporeal presence of the other one felt [...] until orgasm" (ibid.: 180). Second, cybersex means for Stenslie "creating and exchanging complex 3D Virtual Identities (VID)" by using a "body bank." The idea is that participants in a cybersex session, before they go into the net, must construct a "visual me" which consists of model bodies and body parts stored in a data bank. Thus created cyber bodies can be touched, navigated, zoomed and rotated so as to put on a virtual sex act. What is new here, is that these VIDs, appearing on the computer screen, function actually as an interface for the cybersex body suits; that is, by clicking some body part on the screen you can release a respective stimulus in the body suit of another participant. Moreover, you can program whole sequences of touches and send them to someone. And if you like, you can use visual representations of the other gender as your own VID, or even create a transsexual body image to have another kind of sexual experience. The promise is to exceed the limits, all the times. This means that a sexual act can turn into a non-preconceived event so that you do not have any more "control over what is going to happen with your body" (ibid.). In a way, what you see is not any more what you get, and vice versa. Instead you have a random play with identities, corporealities and sexualities - something that 31
According to Bryan S. Turner, the recent development of science and technology has resulted in a new social order, in "a society in which our major political and moral problems are expressed through the conduit of the human body" (Turner 1997: 6). The issue is whether new technologies bring about an expansion of the instrumentalisation of the human body (the rationalisation perspective of Weber and Foucault) or an enhancement of the corporeal potentialities of the human being (the cyborg perspective of Haraway).
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resembles the idea of the postmodern decentered subject living its "life on the screen," as a "multiple persona" (Turkle 1995: 263-264). The borderlines of intimacy and anonymity are broken: through the net you are connected with someone or someones in utmost proximity on your technologically enhanced body, but neither you nor your partner know with whom you are playing sex. You can put on a mask and jump into the free zone of multi-sexuality. (Stenslie 1996: 180) The third aspect of sex in Stenslie's cybersex project comes up in the context of what he calls "Inter-Skin" in which the body itself becomes interface, instead of the computer screen as in "CyberSM" system. The participants are equipped with "'intelligent' Touch Suits" operating synchronously with their movements: touching yourself is actually touching your "inter-skin" which simultaneously, in real time, mediates your touch to somebody else wearing a similar "inter-skin" outfit through which he or she can feel your movements. Your "second" skin, the "interskin," which is actually your technological double, functions as a communication system sending, processing and saving information; you are wearing a computer. This cybersex apparatus "moves the emphasis from the object orientation (the screen) to the subject orientation (the body)." You yourself in unison with your techno-double are now a new kind of sexual subject: your sexual activities are at the same time "auto-erotic stimulation" and "feeling of a third, shared virtual body."32 Through this arrangement I have "a sensual experience with my own skin" and simultaneously via the "third body" I am "the interface for the communication with me and between me and the other." According to Stenslie, this is "a feminine approach to the communication process: it is about proximity, not mechanical action." (ibid.: 185-186) In this respect the inter-skin system curiously resembles the feminist approach to the interface according to which the male orientation to the interface is "phallocentric." The idea is that the male orientation emphasizes onedirectional "penetration" (point out and click) instead of the female mode of "an intermediary surface through which a fluid and breathing exchange might take place" (Tikka 1996: 223). Similarly, as in Heidi Tikka's theorization, Stenslie's cybersex vision puts into the foreground, instead of the straightforward movement of penetration, a feeling of an evenly expanding experience. In the same way as other cyperspace enthusiasts, Stenslie also dreams about transforming the human being into a machine. Accordingly, the fourth aspect of sex in Stenslie's cybersex endeavour is manifested in his idea of what he calls the "biomachine." The biomachine is a techno-organic interface that connects the user with the machine by creating a cyborg unit whose sensory loop is self-sufficient. In the biomachine project the user communicates with a virtual software-supported person. He interacts with it at certain option levels where an unlimited amount of possible tactile, auditory, and virtual output combinations are at his disposal. The biomachine's built-in sensory equipment is a modified version of the Inter-Skin suits. It connects the body directly to the computer and covers it with synthetic flesh. The system creates a closed circuit between human and machine. (Stenslie 1996: 186)33 32
It is interesting to compare this description of autoeroticism to my interpretation of Rheingold's teledildonics in terms of the Freudian concept of Autoerotismus·, see above, note 22. 53 Translated from German by Nadine Wersing.
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Still, once again, you may ask, what is sex here? Stenslie's description of "biomachine" seems to resemble more of an explication of the function mechanisms of some technical apparatus than the human being involved in a sexual act. In other words, what has sexual pleasure got to do with a "cyborg entity," "sensory loop" and "output combinations"? How do you have sex with a "computer-aided person" who consists of "synthetic flesh"? How can you have a sexual intercourse with a partner who is actually an anonymous user of a computer system hiding somewhere out there beyond your reach, disappeared behind a computer screen and a latex surface? And if you are dealing with artificial, virtual beings with pure technologically constructed representations, what is in this context sexual attraction, one of the basic elements of sex? Of course, my questions imply a non-technological, "natural" concept of sex which is based on human corporeality, on the bodily desire and pleasure, on the phenomenological reality of the body; in other words, a concept which refers to flesh as sine qua non of a sexual experience. But all the same, this is exactly the problem: if we are speaking about human sexuality in terms of technology, do we, then, speak about humans or machines? In other words, is there still - at least phenomenologically, that is, at the very basic level of the body sensation - a fundamental difference between the human body (as a self-conscious biological organism) and technology? For Stenslie sex is something which brings to mind more cybernetics (see Wiener 1961 [1948], 1968 [1950])34 than human touch: input/output mechanisms instead of mutual enjoyment of naked bodies; feedback exchanges between apparatuses instead of human beings caressing the skin of one another. And although Stenslie assures that in his cybersex system the idea is "to make the corporeal presence of the other one felt [...] until orgasm," one may ask how an apparatic touch can replace the human touch and lead to the mutually felt orgasm as the climax of unmediated sexual intercourse in flesh? Actually, is sex via sensors, effectors and vibrators in fact mutual masturbation - a new form of masturbation with the aid of an high-tech masturbation apparatus? 3.3
Masturbation with a "ThirdBody"
It is in fact quite curious that Stenslie, similarly to Rheingold, omits the question concerning masturbation, although his cybersex system is evidently, so to speak, a dildo machine. Masturbation as such is, of course, not the problem; sexual satisfaction brought about by one's self is definitely a natural part of human sexuality, even an important dimension of sexual enjoyment, whether alone, with a partner or in a group, what ever you like (about the history of prohibitions concerning masturbation see, for example, Braun 1995). The only problematic part is that Stenslie - in the same way as Rheingold - is speaking about cybersex in terms of shared corpo-
54
Norbert Wiener, the founder of cybernetics, theorized about possibilities to reduce the human being, the very human corporeality, to information: "This is an idea with which I have toyed before - that it is conceptually possible for a human being to be sent over a telegraph line" (Wiener 1964: 36; italics mine).
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real presence of partners in a sexual encounter which in fact takes place in the absence of partners, as a simulation, via an apparatic system. All these complicated arrangements, all the digital paraphernalia from the "body bank" to the "inter-skin," in the end purport to bring together bodies which are physically separated from each other; that is, try to establish a kind of presence in the absence (resembling in this respect the interactive media art projects of Paul Sermon; see Tarkka 1994:43; Huhtamo 1995b).35 But the obstacle always remains the same: the body consisting of flesh cannot be present in two places at one time. The solution proposed by Stenslie to this problem is on the one hand the "autoerotic stimulation"; on the other a "feeling of a third, shared virtual body," as mentioned earlier. The key word here is the prefix auto (Gr. autos) meaning the "self." In this sense autoerotic stimulation means sex by itself; in terms of cybernetics, sex in a feedback mechanism, as an input/output loop. Accordingly, a cybersex system is not only a sex apparatus, it is your "second self," a "body-machine" which is your body double and hence your double subject (computer as a "second self," see Turkle 1984; cf. Pryor 1991, according to which the computer is a "new metaphor of the self," a mode of "[t]hinking of oneself as a computer"). In this sense Stenslie's cybersex system might be interpreted as a kind of an application of the Foucauldian "technology of the self' in a concrete, apparatic form — but, of course, without the deep moral-philosophical dimensions Foucault has attached to this concept (see Foucault 1988: 18).36 To use Foucault's terms, sex in the sense of cybersex is a form of "taking care of yourself," "working at yourself," "on yourself," but unlike for Foucault, this kind of self concern is not exercised for moral improvement but for enhancing pleasure, seeking new dimensions for a sexual experience. Furthermore, while sex for Foucault is an essential part of the constitution of the subject who, being aware of itself as a subject, is capable of acting intentionally and disciplined upon itself, cybersex is a way to redefine the subject in terms of technology. In other words, cybersex can be seen as a technology of the self that puts into the foreground pure corporeal self-reflexion in relation to the "body-machine." 33 For several years an English media artist, Paul Sermon, has realized interactive media works (for example, The Telematic Seance in various versions) which through a telematic system bring two (or more) participants present for each other while they are in reality in separate places, even at a distance of thousands of kilometres. The idea is a presence in an absence, at least a simulation of it. The purpose is that through this arrangement participants can "touch" each other and have a feeling of an intimate closeness and communication. 36 By the concept of the "technologies of the self," Foucault means various procedures and techniques employed by an individual in a self-formation process, in search of the truth in oneself, with the aim of establishing himself as a subject. According to Foucault there are four major types of technologies in general, each a "matrix of practical reason": "(1) technologies of production, which permit us to produce, transform, or manipulate things; (2) technologies of sign systems, which permit us to use signs, meanings, symbols, or signification; (3) technologies of power, which determine the conduct of individuals and submit them to certain ends or domination, an objectivizing of the subject; (4) technologies of the self, which permit individuals to effect by their own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and a way of being, so as to transform themselves in order to attain a certain state of happiness, purity, wisdom, perfection, or immortality" (Foucault 1988: 18; italics mine).
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On the other hand, one may ask, does this actually mean a kind of sexual narcissism, techno-narcissism: your technologically amplified body is the well of your solitary enjoyment? Still, the promise of Stenslie's cybersex apparatus is that you do not remain alone, by yourself, because what you are mirroring is more than just your own body: through the "third, shared virtual body" you can experience the presence of others on your own body. The world of sexual personae is coming to you via net: you are able to share accumulated pleasure. Or at least, so the scenario goes. This shared body experience of multiple-bodies means dividing and multiplying the subject at the same time. But actually in this kind of cybersex act you are mirroring your own desire through technology, a desire which is from the very beginning constituted by this technology; you are in a way enhancing your arousal by its echos in a circular loop taking place between you and your technological extensions - which still always remain as your extensions. In this respect Stenslie's idea of cybersex resembles Mark Poster's theorization on the fragmentation of the subject in relation to computer networks: the fragmented subject is multiplicated and augmented while mirroring the other subjects which are constituted by the net (Poster 1995).37 According to Poster, the days of the modern subject are over in general. The modern, rational, autonomic, centered, coherent and stable subject as a unified point of perspective of an individual is replaced by the postmodern subject which is unstable, heterogeneous, dispersed, diffuse and multiple, having a fragmented and fractured perspective on the world. The new postmodern subject is not an active, self-conscious and rational agent acting with initiave, intentionally and purposefully, but an inconstant, non-rational and decentered being which is changing its position all the time according to how it is interpellated, that is, called up or for, appealed to, by various institutions, groups and media. 3.4
A "Schizoid" Multi-Body Construction
Throughout Stenslie's presentation the basic problem remains the same: Stenslie speaks about cybersex as i/there were real body contact between the participants in a cybersex act, although there in fact is, first, a contact each one has to his or her own body via the apparatus (the "inter-skin"), and second, a digital body surrogate of the others (the "virtual body"). Of course, it is quite evident that what Stenslie's cybersex system has to offer is a new dimension of sexual experience - in so far as someone can find it sexy to be strapped in a whole-body stimulator. But one may still ask what it means to have a sexual experience which consists, on the one hand,
37
Mark Poster, an American historian, aims "to develop theoretical strategies that erase the humanist subject and bypass the human/non-human opposition." According to him, the basis for a new subject is not any more the human being as a self but as a machine, consisting of "nonorganic life" (sic); and "construction of machines can indeed be understood by virtue of certain truly biological principles [...] thereby crossing the line of the living and the dead." Poster claims that there is a "machine logic" emerging, making possible "articulations of 'multiple alterity'"; the principle of "these 'machine orderings* must be understood not as man's instrument, but as a successor to human sociality Γ (Poster 1995: 19-20; italics mine)
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of "autoerotic stimulation" evidently meaning masturbation, and on the other, of a contact to somebody who actually is neither your partner nor real but a "third, shared virtual body"? This question leads back to the concept of the human body which is the starting point in Stenlie's idea of cybersex. Stenslie claims that there is no longer that kind of body we have known so far, at least from our own experience; from now on we instead have some kind of an expanded, flexible, fluid body, "a replicant technobody." The body as well as our personality is a construction, something ever designate anew, at will (cf. the feminist, constructionist concept of the body and sexuality; see, for example, Butler 1993; Bristow 1997: 168-218). But still this body somehow is my body, although in Stenslie's conception it appears as a nobody, as a playground for the other or others. Nevertheless, this particular "my body" is a "tabula rasa" written all the time anew; it is "networked," dispersed; in the end, it is a split, "schizoid body." Upon closer look, however, Stenslie's body concept seems to be not only "schizoid," but even contradictory since this concept simultaneously presupposes, on the one hand, a body as a firm substratus for the "autoerotic stimulation," and on the other, a body as a fluid, decentered and alienated entity. This means that the body should at the same time be both a self-centered sexual subject capable of experiencing something as his or her own experience, and a sexual non-subject functioning as an object for the other or others - and even construction material for the "virtual body," who, nevertheless, is for himself or herself (or itself?) real, a selfcentered whole. In other words, each partner or participant in a cybersex act is on the one hand something which is a definite centre of activity, an agent, contained in a singularly existent corporeal being, and on the other, something which is diffuse, fragmented material for random play. One is entitled to ask: how can something be split into fragments but at the same time be a whole? Moreover, although the idea of "networked flesh" is to exceed the limits of individuality and particularity, everything still seems to revolve around a singular subject, around an ego which like a monad surfs in cyberspace seeking sexual pleasure by using all the entities it encounters as its sex objects. In Stenslie's cybersex concept masturbation acquires global dimensions: worldwide expanded the cyberbody functions as an instrument for its own sexual satisfaction. Here technologically expanded masturbation turns into virtual promiscuity.38 Further, the idea of abandoning and dissolving of the definite corporeal self-centered sexual subject turns out to manifest striving for an omnipotent ego who creates the world into an image of himself, a demiurge who, in a constant process of a kind of autopoiesis, constructs and maintains its own universe consisting of simulated beings, of other
38
One of the critics of cybersex, Paul Virilio, the French "philosopher of speed," sees cybersex in a dystopian perspective of alienation and loneliness effected by new technologies. For him cybersex is not a medium for togetherness and communion, but quite on the contrary, a "sex machine for mediatic masturbation," "remote control masturbation practice" and a "cosmic brothel" (Virilio 1996:151,158). Instead of creating contacts worldwide, cybersex for Virilio is a high-tech form of monadic isolation, a technology driving people apart, far away from each other.
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monads - who at the same time are also nomads. All these beings - whether human or not, organic or non-organic, real or virtual - are in the end but extensions of this omnipotent techno-subject whose corporeal existence is based on a multi-body construction. 4.
Homo Cyber
Both of these cybersex concepts, Rheingold's teledildonics and Stenslie's "sex machine," can be seen to manifest discontent towards the human being as we know him today, that is, homo sapiens, an entity whose very constitution and existence is an utmost complicated interplay of biology and culture, natural and artificial; a being which is vulnerable and fragile, all the time threatened by disorder. Under the conflicting pressures coming from science, technology and consumerism, the human body has become more and more a problem, a limitation for the fulfilment of the immense possibilities of happiness, of the "good life" (fitness, beauty, health, hedonism) which technoculture has to offer - or seems to be offering - for the individual. To meet the highest imperative of technoculture - "Invent and create yourself everyday anew!" - the human body is too slow, unreliable, fragile, weak and most of all: the body inevitably grows old, loses its erotic and sexual attractiveness, withers away, dies. As a result of evolution the human body is from the very beginning a "poor construction," in a word, what the German language so aptly calls Λ Mangelwesen (a deficient being). The natural body cannot cope with technology. In this sense cybersex is a dream of a perfect body, a fantasy of a body without its immanent decay, without the burden of being human. This aspiration beyond the limitations of the body, towards the homo cyber, can be seen reflecting what Kevin Robins calls "the desire for transcendence, the desire to create an ideal new order, one of freedom, sovereignty, omnipotency" (Robins 1996: 17). Especially the biological constitution of the human body, life in flesh, is in the contemporary theorizing in general, and in the cyber discourse in particular, increasingly considered as an obstacle for the development o f - paradoxically - human life. The natural body is obsolete because it is not omnipotent. Accordingly, the salvation seems to be the amplification of the body through technology, by creating a techno-body. 4.1
"The body was meat"
The distrust and aversion towards the human body consisting of flesh is exemplified paradigmatically by Gibson in his seminal work, Neuromancer (1993 [ 1984]), which is - it must be emphasized3' - a work of fiction, not a description of reality (although metaphorically referring to the contemporary transnational corporate capThis emphasis is important for two reasons: first, in the contemporary cyber discourse the borderline between fact and fiction, between the imaginary and the real, has blurred so far that, for example, the concept of cyborg, originally (in Haraway 1991 [1985]) a heuristic metaphor aiming at a reconceptualisation of the relations between nature and technology, is in the cyber discourse often used to refer to real-existing beings. Secondly, the desire for disembodiment, a
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italism; cf. Dery 1996: 250-251). The problem is that cyber theorists more often than not see the human being in terms of science fiction, as a "soft machine" (Porush 1985), and by extension, in terms of technomorphism. This is basically the case also in the visions of Rheingold and Stenslie: for them the human being is actually a sex-machine, already as such commensurable and compatible with technology. The human "soft machine" is only too soft: it needs reinforcement - or immaterialisation. To see this perspective more clearly, let us shortly return to Gibson's world. In his novel Gibson presents his main character, Case, a hacker and a virtual reality addict operating in the gray zone of the undercover data and bio business, in a situation which manifests what I call "technological antipathy" for the body, or in the words of Mark Dery, body loathing (Dery 1996: 234-235). As punishment for disloyalty towards his superiors Case's nervous system is damaged, and though this damage actually is minute, it is utterly effective, and as a consequence: For Case, who'd lived for the bodiless exultation of cyberspace, it was the Fall. In the bars he'd frequented as a cowboy hotshot, the elite stance involved a certain relaxed contempt for the flesh. The body was meat. Case fell into the prison of his own flesh. (Gibson 1995: 12; italics mine)
Similarly to Gibson in his cyberpunk fiction, proponents of the cyber discourse often show curious contempt and even disdain towards flesh as meat, and accordingly, reject the corporeal existence of the human being as something hopelessly degenerated. In this sense cybersex - sex liberated from the burden of flesh, sex beyond meat - can be seen to represent a kind of paranoid desire for the body as a bodiless body. Actually, in the cyber discourse as well as in the cybersex visions there are two directions manifesting the desire for disembodiment: on the one hand, to see the salvation in immaterial, virtual beings, and on the other, to emphasize the possibilities of replacing the obsolete human body by a robotic technobody or a man-machine construction, the cyborg. N. {Catherine Hayles has remarked that this aspiration to disembodiment is "a dream" appearing with variations "in fields as diverse as cryogenics, genetic engineering, and nanotechnology": "Perhaps not since the Middle Ages has the fantasy of leaving the body behind been so widely dispersed through the population, and never has it been so strongly linked with existing technologies" (Hayles 1993:173; italics mine). The idea is to get rid of theflesh·,and moreover, "not merely to leave the body but to reconstitute it as a technical object under human controV (ibid.: 173; italics mine). In Hayles' interpretation this kind of rhetoric of "the end of the body" typifies "the postmodern fantasy of leaving the body behind" (ibid.: 188). According to Hayles there is a transformation underway from biomorphism to technomorphism. In other words, machine is the model for the body, whether in the form of a techno/bio-apparatic construction or as a virtual system, or as a combination of both. recurrent theme in cyberpunk science fiction, in cyberspace visions as well as in cyborg theorization, is discussed from the point of view of virtualisation, as if the human body were already in a process of disappearing, if not vanished altogether; see, for example, Bukatman 1993; Haraway 1991; Kroker 1996; Porter 1997; Stone 1995b; Benedikt 1994; Heim 1993; Shields 1996.
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However, to see the human being in terms of a machine already has a very long tradition, beginning in ancient times and up to the present day (Sutter 1988; Berr 1990; Meyer-Drawe 1996; Völker 1994), although with and after the invention of the computer this way of thinking has really got momentum (Künzel & Bexte 1996; Maar et al. 1996; Schachtner 1993; Faßler & Halbach 1994; Bolz et al. 1994). In short, the issue today in the technocultural discourse is not only the human-machine interface, but the human being as an interface, as a corporeal-cognitive (typically, not affective-sensual) intersection or membrane between two worlds, that of the human-biological and of the artificial-technological. What is new today is the possibility to create digitized objects, virtual and simulated bodies - which can actually be seen to represent the postmodern idea of transgression and transcendence, the idea of a general disembodiment, which means striving after immaterial beings exceeding all the limits of materiality. Although the idea of cybersex may appear - or may present itself - as an extreme futuristic form of what could be called "post everything" theorization, it represents, in fact, a long tradition of discontent with corporeality (whether religious or moral ascetisism, spiritualism, transcendentalism, idealism) and in this regard - as strange as it may sound - a curious fear concerning sexuality, towards corporeal sex with all its mundane aspects. In my opinion, cleanly gleaming cyber visions,40 dressed up in the form of much promising utopian-fiituristic techno-theories of the rebirth of the human being, can be seen to manifest a deep-rooted ambivalence of Western culture in terms of body and bodily functions: the body is at once both an obstacle and a promise, a burden consuming life energy and a source of hedonistic pleasure. In the cyber discourse there is even a built-in schizophrenia towards corporeality: a desire simultaneously to leave the body and to amplify it by technology. Similarly, in cybersex visions the body is present only in its absence. The body is at the same time an object of attraction and rejection, of desire and repression, of fascination and negation. An illuminating formulation of this love-hate relationship towards human bodily existence is an essay by Horkheimer and Adorno, "Interesse am Körper", included in their disillusioned denouncement of the Occidental culture, Dialektik der Aufklärung (Horkheimer & Adorno 1994 [1947]). Of course, the background for this work's grim, dystopian interpretations of the Western cultural heritage from the Promethean myth to the technological civilization controlled by the instrumental reason stems, on the one hand, from experiences both of the authors had of fascism, and on the other of (US-American) capitalistic consumer culture {Kulturindustrie). Still, their reading of Western tradition has gained universal value, as a problematisation of technoculture at least. In this respect their interpretation of the love-hate relationship towards human corporeality has, in my mind, much to say even today, not least of all for the analysis of cybersex and its background, technocultural discontent for human bodily existence:
40
To make my point here clear I may remind the reader of the remark made by Laurie Anderson when encountering virtual reality for the first time: "Nice but there is no dirt in there." I would assume that Georges Bataille might find life in virtuality boring.
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Die Haßliebe gegen den Körper färbt alle neuere Kultur. Der Körper wird als Unterlegenes, Versklavtes noch einmal verhöhnt und gestoßen und zugleich als das Verbotene, Verdinglichte, Entfremdete begehrt. Erst Kultur kennt den Körper als Ding, das man besitzen kann, erst in ihr hat er sich vom Geist, dem Inbegriff der Macht und des Kommandos, als der Gegenstand, das tote Ding, "corpus", unterschieden, (ibid.: 247) Der Körper ist nicht wieder zurückzuwandeln in den Leib. Er bleibt die Leiche, auch wenn er noch so sehr ertüchtigt wird. Die Transformation ins Tote, die in seinem Namen sich anzeigt, war ein Teil des perennierenden Prozesses, der Natur zu Stoff und Materie machte. Die Leistungen der Zivilisation sind das Produkt der Sublimierung, jener erworbenen Haßliebe gegen Körper und Erde, von denen die Herrschaft alle Menschen losriß. (ibid.: 248-249)
In fact, in light of Horkheimer and Adorno, these high-tech, postbiological and posthuman visions of Rheingold, Woolford and Stenslie can be seen to represent an eulogy, even an anthem of praise for the corpus, for the dead body, cadaver resurrecting in the form of a bio-tech hybrid. 4.2
Machine as Sex Object: Male Potency
Does the objectification of the body in the form of technology, proposed by cyber theorists, actually represent the same idea that Horkheimer and Adorno call Verdinglichung and Entfremdung? This is to say, a new form of reification of the human body - reification in the sense of making the technologically amplified apparatic body to a "body-apparatus," to an instrument of its own use, to a self-purpose. According to Fredric Jameson under commodity reification "a thing, of whatever type, has been reduced to a means for its own consumption," thus losing its immanent, intrinsic value (Jameson 1979: 130-131).41 In this perspective, cybersex can be seen as a kind of a "sexual consumption apparatus" reducing sex to reified consumption of itself, thus negating its fundamental character as shared pleasure in flesh, as an intimate interaction, an encounter of two bodies in face-to-face relation. But on the other hand, if the human being is reified into the form of dead materiality, into an object in the world of machines, how can this Fremdkörper, this foreign body, be an object of desire? I assume that in a sexual encounter in cybersex the object of desire is actually a double entity, consisting of the living body as the "body apparatus," and of the apparatus proper functioning as a "Third." This new element, replacing the direct, intimate bodily contact, is working as an inbetween, not only mediating the sexual contact between humans, but functioning itselfas an essential part ofa sexual encounter, as a sex object. This kind of desire for machine as an extension of the body can be seen to manifest sexual fetishisation of machine, a typical male "equation of sex and technology" (Mellencamp 41
1 am basing my argumentation here on the Marxist concept of reification which originally means that in the working process human beings are transforming their "living labor" into "dead labor," that is, alienated products of their work. Under the conditions of capitalism the relation between the producer, the worker, and the product turns upside down so that it is no longer the producer who is in control of his product but on the contrary, the product as an opaque, non-transparent instance of power, rules the destiny of the worker. This new power relation is commodity form under which labor as well as social relations are objectified into anonymous products and their alienated consumption; in other words, reified.
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1990: 68).42 Accordingly, cybersex means not only an anthropomorphizing of technology but furthermore, a specific techno-erotic fascination towards computer and digital technology (Dery 1996: 183-225; Springer 1996:158-164), a kind of techno-fetishism. According to Bill Nichols, simulated experiences generated by computer as a "cybernetic system" can be seen as a reification of human relations; human communication and exchange become "cleanly evacuated of the intersubjective complexities of direct encounter." "Cybernetic interaction achieves with an other (an intelligent apparatus) the simulation of social process itself." Nichols raises the question, whether "a fascination with cybernetic systems is not itself a genderrelated (i.e., a primarily masculine) phenomenon"; the issue here is a predominantly male "fascination with the control of simulated interactions," a specific male "desire to exercise a sense of control." (Nichols 1988: 31-32). And accordingly: [...] the output of computational systems stresses simulation, interaction and process itself. Engagement with this process becomes the object of fetishisation rather than representations whose own status as produced objects has been masked. Cybernetic interaction emphasises the fetishist rather than the fetish object [...]. The consequence of [...] systems that replace direct encounter and realise otherwise inconceivable projections and possibilities, is a fetishism of such systems and processes of control themselves, (ibid.: 32)
In this perspective of male fascination of control, of fetishisation of cybernetic systems, there are all the reasons to ask if the technologization of the body, the endeavour to replace human being with a technological double with a high-tech Doppelgänger, is actually a sign of a project to subordinate the human being to technology. In other words, does one here reduce embodiment of life to a subsystem of non-living constructions, apparatuses functioning according to their own internal techno-logic? Does this mean, metaphorically speaking, to give the human being a role as a "ghost in the machine"? In my mind, to interpret the human body technomorphically, as a technical object, means to emphasize it as something thoroughly rational, something which is built up after a calculated model and functions according to a program, predictably - like a machine, a computer. Here the body is an embodiment of reason; it is ultimately cerebral. Is this basically a "male fantasy" (see Theweleit 1977)? Is the body something reasonable, rational; could the body be reduced to the brain? Does corporeality equal cerebrality? Short, is the body - the body in the contemporary techno discourse - a masculine control system?
42
As a paradigmatic example of the way to sexualize technology, Patricia Mellencamp is referring here to Gene Youngblood's idea of an "expanded cinema," linked with an euphoric promise of the sexual liberation. "His [Youngblood] passion over 'expanded cinema' is orgiastic, downright orgasmic. The key to the hyped, speeding, massively pleasurable future is the equation of sex and technology. His Expanded Cinema is a whoopee book of cybernetic/computer speak, with mind-boggling terms like 'simultaneous synaesthetic synthesis.' A brief example of one very male Utopian fantasy of this futuristic technodreamer: in 'Synaesthetic Cinema and Polymorphous Eroticism' he asserts that 'underground' movies are 'synonymous with sex.' 'If we place any credence at all in Freud, personal cinema is by definition sexual cinema.'" (Mellencamp 1990: 68; italics mine). I would say that mutatis mutandis this applies to the cybersex apparatus which as such is experienced sexual - at least sexually attractive.
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Maybe it is not so far-fetched to claim that this kind of fetishisation of control technology can also be seen to manifest a robotistic phallus fantasy: cybersex systems are not only apparatic extensions of the body but, moreover, they can be interpreted as technological extensions of the penis. The apparatic techno-body as such functions as the male sex organ, as a high-tech penis prosthesis. As Nichols points out, digital technology and cybernetic systems in general are, on the basis of their very structure, control mechanisms. In this sense cybersex apparatuses are also control systems which at the same time both represent the idea of the limitless male potency and manifest the possibility of remote control of sex objects, even such a form of remote control which, like a demiurge, creates its own objects. Or as Rheingold has it above: "You see a lifelike but totally artificial visual representation of your own body and of your partner's"; and "your representations are able to touch each other, even though your physical bodies might be continents apart." Accordingly, it can be said that in cybersex the male body is the technomorphist model for the sexual subject - the body under control. If so, what would this imply in terms of female sexuality - could cybersex be a female invention? (This question, though, I will leave for an other discussion.) All in all, this body image, the technomorphist way to reconceptualize the body as a technical object, can be seen as the very basis for the idea of cybersex. To summarize, cybersex as an idea emphasizes, first, a cerebral understanding of sex; that is, it puts into the foreground sex as something rational, something that could and should be under control, that should function in accordance with a technological system; ultimately according to machine logic, to male logic. And second, it emphasizes the genital aspect of sex, but curiously enough, such that the genitals are strictly under control of the brain, and especially under control of the technological extension of the brain; that is, controlled by the computer. This kind of view on sex is, in my mind, instrumental: the body is seen as a "sex machine," as a machine which produces satisfaction, on the condition that it has been constructed and programmed properly. I am not, of course, denying that satisfaction is the raison d'etre of sex; the question only is how it is achieved.
5.
Conclusion: Future Sex - No Sex?
The idea of cybersex is in the last instance based on the desire to deny the human being as corporeal reality. The human body is not any more seen as an end in itself, making possible intrinsic corporeal pleasures, but as an artificial construction based either on technology or on a kind of meta biology; that is, biology as technology. And as a consequence, in cybersex visions the human body is not understood as a unique integer capable of experiencing and sharing a corporeal intimacy with an other human; in other words, not a source of immediate, authentic bodily enjoyment. On the contrary, the body is seen as an obstacle, not as a promise of fulfillment. Of course, in this perspective it is only logical to try to go beyond the body, to abandon flesh, or, in cyberpunk terms, to get rid of meat. Corollary, if the very basis of the corporeal existence of human being is transformed from a natural given to a construction made according to a design, does this mean that to be a subject is not anymore to make true the potentialities of the given
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individual, original and authentic corporeality but instead to realize a plan inscribed into the body (similarly as in a short story by Franz Kafka, In the Penitentiary Colony [1919], the sentence is inscribed into the body of the convict)43 - into a body that is a design product, an artefact, from the very beginning? Is the future of the human being not to be a bodily existing person but bio-hardware, or better, wetware for various softwares programming the life of that hybrid being? All these questions pertain to the posthuman reconceptualisation of the human being based on the idea of turning the human being into a cyborg. Or as the contemporary wisdom according to Donna Haraway (1991: 150) has it, to accept the fact that the human being is already underway to transforming itself to the cyborg: "The cyborg is our ontology." In this perspective, what would, then, future sex be? In the long run, not even cybersex but cyborgsexl With regard to cyborg problematics the Australian body artist Stelarc is maybe the most prominent case of "body loathing," an example directly to the point. His posthuman stance is clear: "The body is obsolete" (Stelarc 1991: 591). In the techno art performances Stelarc connects his body to various technological apparatuses which are extensions and indicators of his bodily functions. The "Third Hand," a half-automatic double of his right hand, as well as microcircuits controlling his leg movements, observation and measuring equipment showing the internal states of his body, and an industrial robot operating under his nerve impulses, make Stelarc into a techno creature which is half-man, half-machine. He is a living prototype for a cyborg. He is the very embodiment of the posthuman idea. Stelarc is not only a technological construction in his art practice, but furthermore, his theoretical, futuristic world view is a consequent derivation from technological, instrumental rationalism built into the cyber discourse. In his opinion the human body ("psycho body") has already gone out of date because it is no longer on the level of technology. That is why it must be replaced with technology ("cyber body," "virtual substitute body"). The body is neither a very efficient nor a very durable structure. It malfunctions often and fatigues quickly; its performance is determined by its age. It is susceptible to disease and is doomed to a certain and early death. Its survival parameters are very slim - it can survive only weeks without food, days without water and minutes without oxygen. The body's LACK OF MODULAR DESIGN and its overreactive immunological system make it difficult to replace malfunctioning organs. It might be a height of technological folly to consider the body obsolete in form and function, yet it might be the highest of human realizations. For it is only when the body becomes aware of its present predicament that it can map its postevolutionary strategies. It is no longer a matter of perpetuating the human species by REPRODUCTION, but of enhancing the individual by REDESIGNING. What is significant is no longer male-female intercourse but human-machine interface. THE BODY IS OBSOLETE. We are at the end of philosophy and human physiology. Human thought recedes into the human past. (Stelarc 1991: 591)
This is a post-body which at the same time is a post-subject. As far as sex is concerned, could it be said more clearly? What is waiting for us in the future? No sex. 43
See Franz Kafka, In der Strafkolonie; in his story Kafka emphasizes the apparatic quality of the fictional punishment method, a machine, invented by him by letting an officer explain to a visitor the functioning principle of the system: "Bis jetzt war noch Händearbeit nötig, von jetzt aber arbeitet der Apparat ganz allein" (Kafka 1995 [1919]: 132).
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This is the future. No sex. Because the body is obsolete, consequently, there is no need for corporeal pleasures. Sexual intercourse, the sex act between women and men, or humans of the same sex, is no more than a curiosity of history, gone forever. Future sex will be cyborg copulations at the interface, on the borderline of the machine world and what has been left over of the world once inhabited by humans, if there is anything left over in the first place. In this kind of techno-construction the interaction no longer means a worldrelation but a cybernetic circulation of the techno-body, a feedback mechanism. All the sense functions of the (former) human being are reduced to a regulation system of this construction. The consciousness of the self has been narrowed down to the monitoring how this cybernetic organism exercises upon itself. Stelarc's cyborgbeing is the opposite of an interactively communicating human being: it is interested only in itself. The only form of communication which is left over is cybernetic autocommunication, the content of which consists only of its own functions and processes. Is this the ultimate form of technological autosex - no longer atavistic joy of flesh, but autistic feedback circulation inside of a monadic cyborg? In this kind of cyber visioning the human being is not an extension or integral part of technology any more but actually a posthuman being existing only as a technological system which is even capable of reproducing itself non-biologically, non-sexually. If this were possible - that is, the propagation of the human species without sex - it really would be a fundamental transformation of the human being. With all stringency one might ask, then, is the human being without sex human any more? And furthermore, according to this kind of reasoning, would it be quite logical to take the next step, which means abandoning the human body, not only as a result of biological evolution, but also as an artefact created by technology? Why do we need a body at all? I thank Sam Inkinen for spirited and amusing discussions, insightful questions, constructive criticism - and straight encouragement in the moments of darkness. For the careful proofreading I kindly thank Nadine Wersing.
6.
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"Vernetzung des Fleisches", Kunstforum. Die Zukunft des Körpers. Band 132, November-Januar 1996. Stone, Allucquere Rosanne 1995a "Sex and death among the disembodiment: VR, cyberspace, and the nature of academic discourse", in: Star, Susan Leigh (ed.), The Cultures of Computing. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Stone, Allucquere Rosanne 1995b The War of Desire and Technology at the Close of the Mechanical Age. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Sutter, Alex 1988 Göttliche Maschinen. Die Automaten für Lebendiges. Frankfurt/Main: Athenäum Verlag. Tarkka, Minna (ed.) 1994 ISEA '94 Catalogue. ISEA 94. The Fifth International Symposium on Electronic Art. Helsinki: The University of Art and Design Helsinki. Terranova, Tiziana "Posthuman unbounded: artificial evolution and high-tech subcultures", in: 1996 Robertson, George & Mash, Melinda & Tickner, Lisa & Bird, Jon & Curtis, Bany & Putnam, Tim (eds.), FutureNatural. Nature, Science, Culture. London/ New York: Routledge. Theweleit, Klaus 1977 Männerphantasien. 1. Frauen, Fluten, Körper, Geschichte. Frankfurt/Main: Verlag Roter Stern. Thu Nguyen, Dan & Alexander, Jon 1996 "The Coming of Cyberspacetime and of the Polity", in: Shields, Rob (ed.), Cultures of Internet. Virtual Spaces, Real Histories, Living Bodies. London: Sage. Tikka, Heidi 1996 "Cyberspace - A Feminist Point of View", Magazyn Sztuki/Art Magazine. Nr. 3, 1996.
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Tomas, David 1995
Turkle, Sherry 1984 Turkle, Sherry 1995 Turner, Bryan S. 1997 Virilio, Paul 1996
"Feedback and Cybernetics: Reimagining the Body in the Age of the Cyborg", in: Featherstone, Mike & Burrows, Roger (eds.), Cyberspace/Cyberbodies/ Cyberpunk. Cultures of Technological Embodiment. London: Sage. The Second Self. New York: Simon & Schuster. Life on the Screen. Identity in the Age of the Internet. New York: Simon & Schuster. The Body and Society. London: Sage. "Von der Perversion zur sexuellen Diversion", in: Virilio, Paul, Fluchtgeschwindigkeit. München/Wien: Carl Hanser Verlag.
Völker, Klaus (Hg.) 1994 Künstliche Menschen. Über Golems, Homunculi, Androiden und lebende Statuen. München: Suhrkamp. Weizenbaum, Joseph 1976 Computer Power and Human Reason. From Judgement to Calculation. New York: W. H. Freeman and Company. Weizenbaum, Joseph & Haefner, Klaus 1992 Sind Computer die besseren Menschen? Ein Streitgespräch. München/ Zürich: Piper. Wiener, Norbert 1961 [1948] Cybernetics or Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine. New York/London: The MIT Press. Wiener, Norbert 1964 God and Golem, Inc. A Comment on Certain Points where Cybernetics Impinges on Religion. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Wiener, Norbert 1968 [1950] The Human Use of Human Beings. London: Sphere Books Ltd. Williams, Raymond 1975 Television: Technology and Cultural Form. New York: Schocken Books. Wilson, Peter Lamborn 1996 "Boundary Violations", in: Aronowitz, Stanley & Martinsons, Barbara & Menser, Michael (eds.), Technoscience and Cyberculture. New York/London: Routledge.
SAM INKINEN
The Internet, "Data Highways" and the Information Society A Comment on the Rhetoric of the Electronic Sublime In this decade we will transmit more and more [...]. We'll send and receive, not just on the telephone but across the full range of the new technologies. We'll turn from consumers into providers. [...] The communications revolution recognizes each individual as a source of information that adds value to our community and to our economy. - U.S. Vice President Albert Gore (December 21, 1993)' The first task is to demythologize the rhetoric of the electronic sublime. - James Carey & John Quirk (1970)2 Our societies are increasingly structured around a bipolar opposition between the Net and the Self. - Manuel Castells (1996: 3)
0.
Introduction
This article introduces and considers the Utopian and techno optimistic aspects of the recent political and social discourse on media and information technologies. I argue that technology centred arguments often represent heavily mythologized and naive views on contemporary technologies and their cultural implications - an approach that could, with good reason, be called "technological determinism" (Williams 1975: 13) and "the rhetoric of the electronic sublime" (Carey 1989: 113ff.). In this work, I will attempt to introduce a number of seminal concepts (technological and cultural "buzzwords") of the Internet, the "Information Superhighway," etc., as used in contemporary technological, political and techno-utopian rhetoric. I will also discuss some recent documents, reports and strategies drawn up by the governments of North America, Asia and the European Union. In this material, information and media technologies (e.g., multimedia, computer networks and "data highways") are seen as new, progressive and even "revolutionary" tools for community building, telecommuting, teledemocracy, the so-called "information society" (cf. Webster 1995; Castells 1996, 1997, 1998; Bühl 1996: 24ff.; Dordick & Wang 1993; Lyon 1988; Martin 1988, 1995) and related efforts.
1 "Remarks by Vice President Albert Gore at the National Press Club" (21.12.1993), . Quoted in Carey 1989:139. Carey and Quirk's article was originally published in The American Scholar 39 (2) (Spring 1970).
2
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1.
Technology, Rhetoric and the Sublime
1.1
Immanuel Kant's "das Erhabene"
The sublime {das Erhabene in German) is an exciting and diverse concept. At different times and in different cultures and contexts it has offered many possibilities for interpretation. The concept has also had a central place in cultural philosophical discussions concerning modernism and postmodernism.3 In terms of Kantian philosophy, the sublime means a certain kind of "negative pleasure." The chapter "Analytic of the Sublime" (Analytik des Erhabenen, § 23 — § 29) of Kant's The Critique of Judgment {Kritik der Urteilskraft, 1790) concentrates on contemplating the sublime experience. In this classic of philosophy, "Kant calls 'sublime' that aesthetic satisfaction which includes as one of its moments a negative experience, a shock, a blockage, and intimation of mortality" (Klein 1995: xi). According to Kant, the feeling of the sublime is powerful and violent; it appears to bring on momentary suffering, the release from which leads to aesthetic satisfaction. In the philosopher's words: The feeling of the sublime is a pleasure which arises only indirectly, produced by the feeling of a blocking of vital forces for a brief instant, followed immediately by an even stronger release of them; and thus as an emotion it does not seem like play but like a serious thing in the work of the imagination. (Kant 1978: 245; cf. Klein 1995: 63)
Sublime can also be defined as the result of a thrust, an effort, to get something into the realm of perception and imagination which does not actually fit there, and which breaks it. The sublime cannot be pictured as present - or it is "present" only as an
3
As Erkki Vainikkala (1990a: 11) points out, "the sublime, das Erhabene and the Finnish ylevä have different connotations. In ordinary speech, the latter two easily bring to mind something stilted or hollow, liable to provoke jokes. Sublimity, on the other hand, suggests something ambivalent and paradoxical - height, to be sure, but also a sense of limits. / Peri Hypsous, ascribed to Longinus, required a capacity for great thoughts and powerful feelings as well as an effort to learn the necessary means of expression. In the examples it gave, the sublime was spanned from the heroism of Homer to Sappho's lyrical ecstasy. In the 18 th century, as modem consciousness was breaking through, the aesthetics of sublimity began to take on qualities not permitted in Classicism. The beautiful and the sublime took the form of opposites. Edmund Burke associated the former with erotic and social feelings, the latter with self-preservation beauty connects, the sublime isolates. What it was about was not greatness as such any more, but rather a psychic response to phenomena that were potentially threatening and causing fright. In Kant's philosophy, the relationship of the mind's capacities to nature and the supersensible came to the fore. In these discussions, the aesthetic concept of the sublime was connected with larger issues of the so-called project of modernity and its dissolution - issues related to transformations of modem subjectivity. The modern sublime gives expression to the problematic relations between nature, imagination and reason. Accordingly, what is also at stake is the question of power, not least as it pertains to the sexes. That is also what has given rise to psychoanalytical interpretations concerning the relationship of the sublime experience to psychic repression ("the sublime isolates"), the superego, and authority in general. / The postmodern sublime intensifies heterogeneity, that which does not fit into any coherent or harmonic (beautiful) representation. From this point of view, the sublime means becoming sensitive to absolute differences, to a spiritual reality that cannot be grasped within any sensible or imaginable forms. It takes us to the limits of what can [be] represented. / All this gives new force to the sublime ambivalence between an opening up of an abyss and its ideological closure." (italics mine)
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effect: a guest, frightening, unrevealed, inhuman. The sublime is in one way or another transcendent. It pictures a person's attempt to receive the hyper-sensual, the super- or non-human. The humanistic sublime is a conceptual impossibility, an oxymoron. (Vainikkala 1990b: 19) In Richard Klein's (1995: 63) words, "the first moment of the encounter with what we call the sublimely beautiful, the feeling of awe or respect involving fear, is an experience of blockage: We discover in that fearful moment the limits of our capacity to imagine an infinite abyss - the harsh experience of recognizing the limitation of our faculty to represent in finite images the encounter with a magnitude that seems to be infinite. The imagination can invent things never seen in this world, but it staggers in the face of the task of representing infinity."4 For Kant and his contemporaries, intimidating and untamable nature provided the natural starting point and environment for many sublime experiences: Rocks standing out daringly and like a menace against the sky where storm clouds gather and advance with lightning flashes and thunderbolts, volcanos in their devastating power, hurricanes followed by desolation, the immense ocean in its fury, the cataracts of a powerful river, etc., those are the things that reduce our powers of resistance to something laughable by comparison with the force which belongs to them. But if we fmd ourselves in safety, the spectacle is all the more attractive insofar as it is more suitable to causing fear; and we willingly name those things sublime which raise the forces of the soul above its habitual means and make us discover in ourselves a power of resistance of a whole other kind, which gives us the courage to measure ourselves with the apparent all-powerfulness of nature. (Kant 1978: 261; italics mine; cf. Klein 1995: 120,122)
In the recent philosophical, aesthetic and cultural theoretical discourse the sublime is closely connected with (postmodern experience. As an aesthetic attribute, it presents an alternative to the classical concepts of virtuous beauty or harmony even an antithesis to these antique and medieval concepts. Jean-Franfois Lyotard, for example, has investigated the aesthetic ambitions of the avant-garde movements from the perspective of the sublime. In his analysis of literary aesthetics, Lyotard (1989a: 155) points out how both Proust's and Joyce's works refer to something which does not consent to becoming present. On a more general level, Lyotard has pointed out the task of the avant-garde to be the dissolution of spiritual omnipotence. The feeling of the sublime is the name of this weak point. (Lyotard 1989b: 178) According to another central postmodern theorist, Fredric Jameson (in his writings on late capitalism, multi-cultural contexts and high-tech networks) contemporary media and information technologies can also be thought of as giving birth to the sort of postmodern situation which appears only as the "crushingly absent" sublime, as the aesthetic effect of which '"the technological sublime,' the futurism
4
This easily sounds dark, cruel, frightening and agonistic. Thankfully, according to Kant, "the faculty of reason [...] comes to the rescue of imagination by proposing the concept of infinity, the idea with which the mind can grasp, but not imagine, a boundlessness beyond all limitation, all finitude. Coming to the rescue of imagination, reason brings satisfaction after the moment of awe and fear, satisfaction derived from overcoming, if only in thought, the pain of recognizing the limits to our power to imagine." (Klein 1995: 63)
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of this moment" arises.5 (Vainikkala 1990b: 20) The "hyperreal" world formed by Jean Baudrillard's theories of simulacra and simulation (see 1983,1988,1994) can also be thought of as agonistic and sublime. The ultra-technological cultural situation causes understandable paranoia for the contemporaries.6 1.2
The "ElectronicSublime"
In everyday language and thought the sublime is generally understood to be something simpler than the definitions given above. "Sublime," as a word, awakens such connotations as refinement, high position, excitement, spiritual uplifting or walking on stilts. The sublime also easily creates a negative impression; it is not necessarily related to the aesthetic or philosophical horizons. Thus, we can easily see that there are many different notions of the sublime. As the Finnish scholar Erkki Vainikkala (1990b: 19; translation mine) has written, "Sublime cannot be clearly categorized. It is useless to look for clear definitions which have been used throughout time in conversation. It is a space for ambivalent interpretation." Communication scholars James Carey and John Quirk (see Carey 1989: 113141) have provided one interesting and, in terms of this article, heuristic (sub)definition in this space for interpretation. In the investigation into the "electronic sublime" of our time, they have shown it to be a thematic and chronological continuation of the "mechanical sublime" of the 19th century. In terms of conceptual content, both of these forms of the sublime can be considered to be part of the larger meta category of the "technological sublime." Mechanical sublime was born in the 1800s, of a contemporary culture stamped by new mechanical technology, especially the techno-romantic and Utopian expectations concerning the steam engine, steam power and railway. During the last third of the century though, belief in the mechanical sublime began to decline significantly and its place was taken by the electrical sublime, based on electricity and systems of electric technology. Edison, Bell, Marconi and other inventive "geniuss Scott Bukatman (1995:280) has connected the technological sublime to cinematic special effects. According to him, "The sublime is [...] figured in these spectacles as an idealist response to significant and continuing alterations in lived experience [...] that an environment we made has moved beyond our ability to control and recognize it. [...] The simultaneous fascination with, and fear of technology's beauty, majesty, and power reveals a necessary ambivalence, and through this ambivalence, the sublime becomes a crucial tool of cognitive mapping." On the sublime science fiction world of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner see also Bukatman 1997. 6 Besides manifestations in cultural theory, sublime experiences also have a central role in people's everyday life. Richard Klein approaches the concept of the sublime with the help of an exceptionally provocative and challenging everyday theme: cigarettes. According to Klein's analysis, it is precisely the feeling of the sublime which provides a satisfactory explanation as to why cigarettes, which are unquestionably dangerous to a person's health, provide smokers with aesthetic enjoyment - and why a billion people smoke regularly. According to Klein, "Kant's thesis is the necessary precondition for understanding the nature of the contradictory beauty and paradoxical pleasure with which cigarettes have provided the world. For Kant, the sublime, as distinct from the merely beautiful, affords a negative pleasure because it is accompanied, as its defining condition, by a moment of pain. By pain he strictly means the normal feelings of shock or fear aroused by the presence of whatever impresses us by virtue of its sheer magnitude, giving rise to awe or respect." (Klein 1995: 62)
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es" of that time were turned into celebrated figures and intensive patent battles concerning their inventions were fought.7 Later in the 20th century television, computer and electronics industries have inherited the sublime thoughts and expectations previously directed towards the telegraph and telephone. We have moved into the age of the electronic sublime, (ibid.) The electronic sublime includes the central idea of electronics and electronic systems "advancing" with nearly teleological if not messianic power. It also includes an emphasis on the continuous state of change. New "revolutionary" innovations are seen as following each other in a progressive, nearly inescapable series of developments. It is important to note that in shifting from the mechanical to the electronic sublime, the verbal metaphors for speaking of technological change often remain the same, although the subject which they portray has become altogether different. For example, in their investigations of the "mythos of the electronic revolution," Carey and Quirk refer to a specific new technical innovation: "An agent [...] at hand to bring everything into harmonious cooperation... triumphing over space and time... to subdue prejudice and to unite every part of our land in rapid and friendly communication [...]." (Carey 1989: 120). This is not in reference to Marshall McLuhan's "global village," nor to the neo-McLuhanite Derrick de Kerckhove's "electric skin," nor Roy Ascott's "telenoia," nor Jaron Lanier's "virtual reality," but rather to steam, the miracle working natural power of the 19th century, and the communications network built thereon: the railroads, (cf. Eerikäinen 1994a: 3) As steam and the railroads were in the 19th century, multimedia, hypertext, the Internet, "information highways" and other recent electronic inventions in our own time are the embodiment of the technological (and specifically the electronic) sublime. This mentality and way of thinking can be seen clearly in contemporary technological discourse. In the words of the technology expert and critic Clifford Stoll, Technology has become hip. I read about computer networks on the front pages of newspapers and magazines; talk-show hosts give their e-mail addresses; commercials promise a wonderful future where anything's available via computer. Lots of excitement and plenty of glitz, but little substance and even less reflection. (Stoll 1996: 10)
A strong future orientation and over optimistic, even enchanted way of talking about the possibilities of new technology are identifying features of the rhetoric of the electronic sublime. As history repeatedly demonstrates, the idea that technical and technological changes automatically lead to positive developments in society - even directly to cultural evolution - is regularly presented in the visions of our time. Raymond Williams (1975: 13; cf. Heim 1993: 151) has referred to this naive and inaccurate way of thinking as 'technological determinism." ι Historians have shown that there were, in fact, at least two "industrial revolutions." According to Manuel Castells, "the first started in the last third of the eighteenth century, characterized by new technologies such as the steam engine, the spinning jenny, the Cort's process in metallurgy, and, more broadly, by the replacement of hand-tools by machines; the second one, about 100 years later, featured the development of electricity, the internal combustion engine, sciencebased chemicals, efficient steel casting, and the beginning of communication technologies, with the diffusion of the telegraph and the invention of the telephone." (Castells 1996: 34)
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The technological sublime appears to be a standard part of our culture, and it seems to be a particularly strong part of our language usage concerning technology. According to Carey and Quirk, the problem is a way of thinking and language usage which mythologizes technology. They illuminate this rhetoric with the speeches of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in which steam, electromagnetism and transcendentalism are intertwined: according to Emerson, "Machinery and transcendentalism agree well... Stage-Coach and Railroad are bursting the old legislation like green withes... Our civilization and these ideas are reducing the earth to a brain. See how by telegraph and steam the earth is anthropoligized." (Carey 1989: 120) If in place of steam, the railroads, electromagnetism and the telegraph we put electronics, information networks, digital technology and virtual reality, we can ask: What has actually changed? The answer is obvious: mainly the vocabulary used in the discourse (Eerikäinen 1994a: 4). Historical parallels reveal that the technological sublime, and the rhetoric concerned therewith, are archetypal features of (Western) culture. The goal of my article here, however, is to concentrate on the current form of the rhetoric of the technological sublime. Following Carey and Quirk's usage, in this article I take the electronic sublime to mean the contemporary futuristic and techno-optimistic mentality concerning electronics and electronic systems (e.g., computers and information networks) and the social changes which they affect. By the rhetoric of the electronic sublime in turn, I am referring to the Utopian, enthusiastic and non-substantial use of language in reference to these systems and innovations. Hannu Eerikäinen (1993) has succintly referred to the recent extremes in the rhetoric of the electronic sublime as "hype discourse" and "Utopian rhetoric." According to Eerikäinen, "new visions are once again opening before us, new future images in which everything changes; different from previous changes only in that it is believed that we can say our final good-byes to the history [...]." Eerikäinen's key concept in this context is the discourse of transformation, as an example of which he speaks of virtual reality: the technology which, according to hi-tech enthusiasts, "is to free us not only from gravity, but also from the bonds of selfhood, from the burden of being the subject - from the great development of the renaissance and emancipatory ideal of the project of modernity, for the realization of which Marx, Freud and more recent thinkers have sacrificed their energies." (translations mine) 1.3
The New Media: Utopian Rhetoric I've listened to plenty of spoken and implied promises about computer networks. Each seems reasonable and well-grounded; most are simple extrapolations of the digital revolution that's happening over the Internet. / Yet I claim these promises are myths, grounded in dreams of an information Shangri-la that can never be realized. And were it to happen, many of us would prefer to remain behind. - Clifford Stoll (1996: 15)
I began this article by quoting from the vice-president of the United States Albert Gore's speech to the National Press Club in December 1993. In this political "manifesto" one of the leading ideas of the contemporary culture of the 1990s is crystallized: the plan to shift American culture and society to an era of new and more
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efficient information and communications technologies, digital world (cf. Negroponte 1995) and a network economy. The Clinton/Gore administration intends to network and "digitize"8 the United States in the near future through the realization of many ambitious politico-economic projects. These strategic political decisions of the United States have had a significant influence on the political orientations of other Western nations. The American example has stimulated the governments and administrations of many other countries to write numerous memos and make political plans for the possibility of moving in the near future to an "information society," saturated with media, information and advanced technological systems. At the same time, in public discussions at different corners of the globe, the same vision for the development of information and communications technologies is being actively promoted. In the most recent technological discourse' there has been a suffocating amount of both new and familiar terminology: multimedia and hypertext, microchip and media station, home terminal and computer networks, Euro-ISDN and CD-ROM, e-mail and wide-band network, cyber cafes and teleworking, interactivity and real-time communications, CMC and ATM, integration and convergence, virtual reality and video-on-demand, IT and ITV, artificial intelligence and computer agents, telemedicine and multimedia instruction... - to name just a few of the central terms and "buzzwords" of recent discussions. It is noteworthy that the visions and arguments presented in recent debates are highly reminiscent of the discussions of the "information society," the "information revolution" and the "computer revolution" in the 1980s. According to political and economic rhetoric, Great Change and Great Transformation is once again being realized, in which it is claimed that humanity - at least in Western countries - is part of a dramatic and inevitable cycle of events which are said to shake the very foundations of our culture. Because of new communications and information technologies we are once again witnessing "revolutionary" events, and the result is that our lives will be substantially changed. Although many of the generalizations of the technologically optimistic speeches of the 1980s can be seen in recent discussions, there are also some noticeable thematic shifts. Whereas in the 1980s "computer," and in the early 1990s "multiand hypermedia" were the key concepts in the rhetoric of new information technology, the focus of the most recent discourse has been on information (superhigh8
Digitality has become the central theme and concept in the contemporary development of and discussion on media and information technologies (see Inkinen 1994b; Negroponte 1995; Tapscott 1995, 1997; Lynch & Lundquist 1996; Kroker & Kroker 1997). According to Manuel Castells, "the current process of technological transformation expands exponentially because of its ability to create an interface between technological fields through common digital language in which information in generated, stored, retrieved, processed, and transmitted. We live in a world that, in the expression of Nicholas Negroponte, has become digital." (Castells 1996: 30; italics mine) «I understand "discourse" as Eerikäinen (1998: 206) has defined the concept. / Concerning the recent Utopian discussions and viewpoints I would like to cite Clifford Stoll's apt words: "Technology needs no further hype these days. Open any magazine and get your fill of dithering praise and glossy full-color wonderment. Chat with a devout computer jock and you'll hear how the electronic revolution is linking all of us together through the universal Internet and how online experiences can change your life for the better." (Stoll 1996: 13-14)
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ways.m This originally American concept refers to fast interactive information networks, capable of transferring multimedia information, with the help of which it is intended to unite the whole nation into a gigantic, efficient information network, like nothing ever seen before. In the technological rhetoric of the last few years, two terms in particular have been connected with the "Information Superhighway": the Internet (the worldwide computer network originally set up to serve the interests of military strategists, universities and research institutes; nowadays a global, commercial multimedia network) and the various fiiturological visions of an information society. These three concepts - the Internet, "data highways" and the information societyoften appear as confusingly and unclearly interconnected, as we shall see. In the following I will discuss the visions and policies of various national governments concerning the "electronic society" of the future. For the corpus of my article, I rely on several political documents, memos and speeches published in the 1990s.
2. 2.1
The Technological and Discursive Context The American Concept of the "Information Superhighway " One helpful way is to think of the National Information Infrastructure as a network of highways - much like the Interstates begun in the '50s. [...] These are highways carrying information rather than people or goods. And I'm not talking about just one eight-lane turnpike. I mean a collection of Interstates and feeder roads made up of different materials in the same way that roads can be concrete or macadam - or gravel. [...] Some highways will be made up of fiber optics. Others will be built out of coaxial or wireless. - Vice President Albert Gore (1993)"
The "Information Superhighway" was originally President Bill Clinton's and VicePresident Albert Gore's political pet. The starting point for this nationally uniting information network is the National Information Infrastructure (Nil) project proclaimed by the Clinton/Gore administration. At stake here is a politically conspicuous mega-project, encompassing the development strategies for the US healthcare system and university information networks. The political nature of the project is emphasized by the fact that it was one of the major planks in the Clinton/Gore election campaign platform in the early 1990s, (cf. Otte 1994; Bühl 1996: 13ff.) The goal of the Information Superhighway is to bind households, schools, libraries, clubrooms, work places, research centers, etc., tightly together in a fast, high capacity information network and information transfer service - a bit like the present telephone system. The major difference between I.S. and the existing telenetwork, however, is that, in addition to voices and sounds, the Information Super10 The shift in the technological rhetoric is understandable when considering the general development of information technology. To quote Manuel Castells, "Since the mid-1980s, microcomputers cannot be conceived of in isolation: they perform in networks, with increasing mobility, on the basis of portable computers. This extraordinary versatility, and the capacity to add memory and processing capacity by sharing computer power in an electronic network, decisively shifted the computer age in the 1990s from centralized data storage and processing to networked, interactive computer power-sharing." (Castells 1996: 45) 11 "Remarks by Vice President Albert Gore at the National Press Club" (21.12.1993), .
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highway is able to relay all forms of multimedia information (still pictures, videos, animations, graphics, text files, databases). The Nil is intended to make network applications of the next generation possible (e.g., distance learning, teleworking, interactive databanks, telematic entertainment, video-on-demand solutions), thus developing and strengthening the national economy of the USA as the technological and economic world leader. In addition to the Internet style information networks, interactive television (ITV) is a significant part of the Nil project plans. All in all, Nil is being constructed on nine great principles, which stress the significance of private sector investment, the universal service principle and the enforcement of copyright protection. Data security and ease of usage are also being stressed in the new technology. Another central idea of the Information Superhighway is what has been called "information at your fingertips." The phrase is intended to emphasize the network's user-friendliness and basically mobile nature (wireless communications, PDA technology, etc.). (Otte 1994: passim) Those expressing the greatest interest in the network based multimedia markets of the future are telephone and cable television companies and multinational entertainment concerns. Discussion of "data highways" has also stressed technological integration and the inevitability of media convergence between various technological fields of the "info industry"; the coming together of traditionally separate business sectors and industries (the computer industry, media and publishing business, film making, etc.) (cf. Brand 1987: 10; Lynch & Lundquist 1996: 149-157; Yoffie 1997). The American government's plans for an "Information Superhighway" were written in 1993 in the approved position paper, The National Information Infrastructure: Agenda for Action." This became the primary starting point for corresponding projects in other countries. The most general and popular name for the national information network within the Nil project is the "Information Superhighway," but it is also known by countless synonyms and nicknames, such as "infopike," "infobahn," "infohighway," "digital highway," "I.S.," "digital information network," "data highway" and even "cyberspace." (cf. Otte 1994: 6; Bühl 1996: passim) The Clinton administration has taken the Information Superhighway as a matter of national concern and developmental funding is approaching the level of Ronald Reagan's "Star Wars" project (SDI) of the 1980s. The goal of this project, requiring billions of dollars a year, is to turn the United States into one giant information network over the next few decades. Every household, school, library, hospital and business will be able to receive and send information in digital form. The "info highway" is expected to be as great a techno-economic stride forward as the railroads and airlines were before. Economists and business consultants have claimed it to be a new, revolutionary business tool and "dominant design" (cf. Steinbock 1995; Lynch & Lundquist 1996; Hagel & Armstrong 1997) in the "digital economy" (Tapscott 1995) and the "informational economy" (Castells 1996: 66ff.). 12
Available on the Internet at . On the political promises of Clinton and Gore, see also and .
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The most important defender and evangelist of "data highways" in the United States has been the vice president Albert Gore, which is also natural in that Gore has been influential in information network development since the time of the Internet's predecessor, the Arpanet. Gore adopted the term "Information Superhighway" as a rhetorical metaphor in the late 1980s when he was a senator and chairman of a committee considering future technology. The concept spread through the international media as the result of Gore's speech to the National Press Club in December 1993.13 The vice-president's enthusiastic vision marched the Information Superhighway, the Internet, and the whole digital vocabulary out into the sphere of public debate.14 2.2
"Data Highways " as a Rhetoric Metaphor The crucial metaphors used to evoke cyberspace, then, are self-consciously holistic, transcendent, sublime·, they attempt to describe our "full human sensorium" beyond Freudian repression or Marxian alienation, to liberate our "imagination" - "poetry" - from the constraints of material existence - "poverty." Even scientists who are dedicated to promoting virtual technologies in fields such as medicine drift into a metaphysically laden rhetoric that equates poetry with an escape from the history that has brought these technologies into being. The flight into an imaginary space collapses distinctions among technological innovation, artistic creativity, and politico-economic power. - Robert Markley (1996a: 3; italics mine)
The American government's plans, statements and agendas concerning information networks represent clearly the rhetoric of the electronic sublime in a conspicuous and intentional way. They represent this rhetoric in its contemporary and politically driven forms. The "Information Superhighway," even in an American context, is a grandiose slogan, that finds its rhetorical roots in not only the force of the name itself but also in the Gore family tradition. The discussion of an electronic "Superhighway" is something of a tribute to the work of the vice-president's fai3 See . The media artist Nam June Paik has raised attention by claiming that the Information Superhighway was originally his idea. According to Paik, it was "stolen" from a memo he had made for Rockefeller Foundation in 1970s. A conversation between Paik and the Finnish-Swedish art critic Jan-Olof Mallander in New York in May 1994 (Paik & Mallander 1995: 59) gives the background: Μ: I want to ask You a little more about this Electronic Superhighway issue. In Venice You created a stir by maintaining that "Bill Clinton stole my idea about the Electronic Superhighway." Paik: Oh yeah. I mean - 1 was very proud of it: and I am still very proud - because I wrote about that idea in 1974, and published it 1976.1 did not write something that was just a hippie's idea, but I wrote it for a major Foundation, an official paper. I was commissioned to write a paper for Rockefeller Foundation. It went through straight channels, You know... M: Did the paper go the White House, the President's Office, from there? Paik: We printed about 50 copies then: at that time Clinton was a student in Arkansas: so I made that joke "Clinton stole my idea"... But that kind of idea was in the air, and I bet it (the report) must have been kicked around in many "think tanks" after that. M: But You must have been one of the first to write down this vision? Paik: I was the first to make it the center - the center of the whole idea. I wrote 30 pages on "Media Planning for the future, the 20th century," and the conclusion was: we have to build an electronic superhighway - exactly in that same context.
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ther, Senator Al Gore Senior, for his development of the U.S. Interstate highway network in the 1950s. In a country known for its automobile industry and highway culture, the reference to the highway network is a clever political analogy. The vice-president's project appears to be a continuation of his father's work. Peter Otte (1994: 6) has captured the thought perfectly: "It can be said that the Gores build highways." The vision of an "information highway" as the communications channel of the future also includes a rhetorical comparison to the way in which information networks bring people closer together, just like roads of asphalt in the material world. It immediately becomes obvious that the highway metaphor might also be the subject of much critical commentary. Steven Jones (1995b: 11), for example, has quoted Phil Patton and made a comment on how the highway network created in the United States can be seen as causing "monstrous side effects." Instead of the promised closeness, highways "have often rolled, like some gigantic version of the machines that build them, through cities, splitting communities off into ghettos, displacing people, and crushing the intimacies of old cities... [...] While promising to bring us closer, highways in fact cater to our sense of separateness." (Patton 1986: 20)" When discussions of "data highways" began in the USA at the end of the 1980s, no one believed that it would be happening before the turn of the millennium. The situation has substantially changed, and concrete results are expected now within the next few years in the optimistic circles. This speedy development is the result of both the rapid technological progress and a series of strategic industrial alliances that have been and are being formed, (cf. Steinbock 1995; Yoffie 1997) While politicians and technology enthusiasts see the Nil vision clearly, there is also sharp criticism being voiced towards these plans." Mark Stahlman (1994), for instance, has considered the idea of a mega-industry rising up around the infobahn to be ridiculous. According to him, in the coming years, "[t]here will be no 500channel future. There will be no U.S.$ 3 trillion mother of all industries. There will be no virtual sex. There will be no infobahn. None of it - at least not the way you've been reading about it."
" Clifford Stoll (1996: 3), too, has commented on the building of American highways: "Who spoke out against the superhighway system? I don't remember anyone saying, 'Hey, these beltways will destroy our cities. They'll pave over pristine lands and give us hour-long commutes. They'll change our society from one of neighborhoods to that of suburbs.' / In advance, then, here are my strong reservations about the wave of computer networks. They isolate us from one another and cheapen the meaning of actual experience. They work against literacy and creativity. They will undercut our schools and libraries." Stoll (ibid.: 49) further criticizes the idea: "From 1930 to 1970, Robert Moses built roads, bridges, parks, and housing projects. Nothing stopped him - not politicians, community leaders, urban planners, neighborhoods. Quite the contrary: he bribed politicians, intimidated community leaders, hired the urban planners, and plowed under the neighborhoods. Anyways, in 1955 only a reactionary Luddite would possibly oppose highway construction. The automobile was clearly the key to the future." " A s a neo-Luddite, Stoll (1996: 9-10) has also asked these important questions: "Yet who knows what the proposed National Information Infrastructure will be? / Will it be a scheme for hundreds of video channels over cable? Will it become a way to bring the Internet out of the universities
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Stahlman's primary critique concerns the vision of a convergence" (cf. Yoffie 1997) between the telephone and cable businesses, which has been presented as self-evident in discussions of Nil, digitality and contemporary media developments. Stahlman (1994) believes that neither the economic nor the technical prerequisites for such a convergence are fulfilled in their current form. Rather, telephone and cable companies are trying to use the "information highway" as a fuzzy excuse to smash current regulations and control mechanisms. Both of these sectors of the communications industry have traditionally been carefully regulated monopolies in the United States, and their ownership arrangements and pricing policies have been directly affected by official regulations. National telecommunications policy has traditionally been a complicated blend of stiff competition in long-distance telephone services, monopolies in local telephone services and special privileges for cable operators. American telecommunications law was primarily established by the Communications Act of 1934, and has faced powerful demands for change in recent years, (cf. Otte 1994: 8-12) 2.3
Some Other "Information Highways ": Canada, Australia, Japan and Singapore
The "Information Superhighway" has become a standard feature of the political and technological jargon of the 1990s. The governments of other Western countries have enthusiastically followed the example of the USA and published their own variations on the Nil and the "data highways." Investing in information and media technological systems is considered to be a matter of national and global importance. For instance, when the leaders of the G-7 countries (the world's leading industrial powers) met in Brussels in February 1995, the theme of the gathering was developing a high technology "information society." A quote from the theme paper characterizes the meeting's basic premise well: Throughout the world, information and communication technologies are generating a new revolution that is carrying mankindforward into the Information Age. It is a revolution centered on the electronic processing, storage, retrieval and communication of information. As we enter the information age, the movement of information is joining the movement of people and goods as an activity of enormous social and economic importance. For those able to and into our homes and public schools? Will it be primarily a commercial endeavor or a public service? Will the govenment regulate its growth and content? Will it be a part of the telephone or cable-television system? Should I worry that local bulletin boards won't have access? Will the govenment further subsidize an industry that's making lots of money already? / The answer is yes to all of the above, and more. Authors of the National Information Infrastructure Progress Report of September 1994 expect to 'reduce health care costs by some $36 billion per year, prepare our children for the knowledge-based economy of the 21 st century, add more than $ 100 billion to our Gross Domestic Product over the next decade, and add 500,000 new jobs by 1996, while enhancing the quality of work life and forming a labor-management partnership. / Such glowing pronouncements make me wonder if some lemminglike madness has cursed our technologists. In tum, I ask myself why the networked world attracts such attention." 17 "[...] characteristic of this technological revolution is the growing convergence of specific technologies into a highly integrated system, within which old, separate technological trajectories become literally indistinguishable. Thus, microelectronics, telecommunications, optoelectronics, and computers are all now integrated into information systems." (Castells 1996: 62-63)
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exploit it, the information society is already a liberating experience which widens individual choice, releases new creative and commercial energies, offers cultural enrichment and brings greater flexibility to the management of working and leisure time. The information society is not only affecting the ways humans interact but is also having a fundamental impact on our traditional organisational structures. Usually rigid and hierarchical, we can expect those to give way to more flexible, decentralised and participatory models which will transform the workings of society, the economy, and public and private institutions. A consensus has been emerging between G-7 governments in recent months that the development of the global information infrastructure and of its applications is one of the most important initiatives that must be taken in this last decade of the 20th century. The potential rewards are enticing: better social integration; the recovery of our sense of community; enhancing the progress of democratic values and sharing as well as preserving cultural creativity, traditions and identities; improving the quality of life; a stimulus to economic growth, job creation and higher economic efficiency; a better balance in economic and social progress between nations; a smoother integration of developing countries into the global economy; the capacity to solve common societal problems. These gains could be denied us unless we pursue them together." (italics mine)
In my opinion, this sounds unrealistic, overly optimistic and very Utopian (cf. Forester 1992). It has been, however, easy for different national plans and strategies to latch onto "universally" approved frameworks. For example, the Canadian government's version of Nil is unsurprisingly called The Canadian Information HighwayCanada's plans emphasize the same goals as the United States' Nil document. According to the future visions, "Canada's information and communications infrastructure will be a 'network of networks,' creating vital communications links among Canadian businesses and their clients; among industry, government and universities; among artists, cultural organizations and their audiences; among hospitals, clinics and patients; among schools; and among communities, large and small, from one end of the country to the other. It will accelerate the pace at which we exchange ideas, and will revolutionize our way of doing business. It will act as the catalyst for Canada as a vital and competitive knowledge-based society." Australia's visionary plans for a "networked nation" are similar. According to the Australian strategy paper,20 "knowledge and information are the fundamental strategic resources of our age: access to them through electronic networks is vital for [...] Australia." Through these networks the nation "becomes not only a user but also a provider and exporter of global information and associated services. [...] Australia has an opportunity to enter the twenty-first century with unprecedented capacity to use and benefit from networked information resources." In April 1995, prime minister P. J. Keating summarized his nation's goals as follows: The Government has agreed to implement a national strategy aimed for the adoption of new information and communications services and technologies - the so-called "information superhighway."
18
G-7 Ministerial Conference on the Information Society. Theme paper. Available on the Internet at . ι» . 20 . See also .
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These new services and technologies will change the way we live, work andplay. Their effect on our businesses, our schools and universities, our hospitals, our governments, and many other aspects of our daily lives, will be profound. We have the opportunity to plan for a fairer, healthier, better educated and more productive "information society," through a managed and consultative approach to the use of information and communications services and technologies. (Keating 1995; italics mine)
Japan's intended mega-project is called the Program for Advanced Information Infrastructure.2I To this is closely tied the strategic memo Reforms toward the Intellectually Creative Society of the 21st Century.22 Japan's goal is to develop into a networked "multimedia society" by the year 2010. In order to achieve this goal, the country has begun a national "multimedia network" development project. The key roles in this project appear to be held by MITI (the Ministry of International Trade and Industry), MPT (die Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications), NTT (Nippon Telegram & Telephone), and such electronics giants as Sony, Matsushita and Nintendo. The Japanese plans favor familiar slogans such as ISDN, HDTV, videoon-demand, video conference, teleshopping and telemedicine. Building a nationwide FTTH (Fiber to the Home) fiber-optic cable network is considered to be especially important. (Harada 1995) As in America, the basis of Japan's Information Infrastructure is primarily commercial. According to the calculations of their national planning council, by the year 2010 the multimedia market will be a significantly larger industry than the current automobile, computer and consumer electronics industries combined (with an estimated market volume of 1.23 trillion U.S. Dollars). There are also major employment hopes being projected towards the Information Superhighway. Nation-wide, the multimedia network is predicted to create as many as 2.43 million new jobs, (ibid.) The city-state of Singapore also believes in the significance of the "infobahn," and has presented the future plan IT2000 National Information Infrastructure,23 which is connected to "a vision of an intelligent island." A high capacity information network is expected to significantly alter Singaporean daily routines and offer concrete information technology applications for different areas of life: By using technology to reduce or simplify time-consuming chores, Singaporeans will have more discretionary time on their hands. Almost all transactions with government departments are to be made through computer and communication networks - school admissions, tax submissions, permit or license applications, bill payments, and so on will be processed electronically. Shoppers can compare products by selectively viewing images and video-clips on computer screens, and make purchases through cashless transactions. The choice and quality of recreational activities will be enhanced. Singaporeans and tourists alike will use multilingual and multimedia systems to preview cultural events and obtain admission tickets. At home, computers will be used to interactively browse the collections of art galleries, libraries and museums. Congestion on the roads will be tamed by computerised traffic control and electronic road pricing systems. Some Singaporeans can avoid commuting altogether by working at home via high-speed connections that bring them files and messages from the office and elsewhere.
22 23
. . For Internet resources on the topic see and .
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Those who work in office buildings find themselves inside intelligent structures that dispense advanced communication and control services. Everyone carries a smart card that stores essential information about her or his health and medical needs. The cumulative effect of these changes is that individuals will have the time and energy to engage in leisure activities that refresh their mental faculties or renew their social ties. (Choo 1995)
On April 1, 1992, Singapore's National Computer Board (NCB) released A Vision of an Intelligent Island: The IT2000 Report. The report noted that since 1986 Singapore has been preparing itself to take advantage of the advances in information technology (IT) in terms of national competitiveness. It further described what the planned National Information Infrastructure (Nil) would mean to Singapore, both domestically and globally. In an attempt to illustrate the practical daily benefits of the Nil, the report also included a press release entitled, "A Day in the Life of the 'Intelligent Island'." Set in the near future, it tells the story of a day in the life of the fictitious Tay family. Sandy Sandfort (1993) described this press release in a critical tone in the Wired magazine as follows: The story paints a beautiful picture of a future dominated by giant, voice-controlled, widescreen, high-definition wall i V s that serve as picture phones, interactive tutors, and electronic places of business. Instead of money, everyone carries "smart-cards" that also serve as identification and medical history databases. Portable cellular data screens are used to access street maps and up-to-the-minute transit information. While technically interesting, the most striking aspect of "A Day in the Life" is its peppy naivete. It evokes all the innocent optimism of Walt Disney s Tomorrowland. We see Mr. Tay in his tailor shop, where he is using his wall screen to display different styles of shirts to his customer, Mr. Ho. Tay uses an electronic stylus to alter the on-screen designs. Mrs. Tay is an insurance agent who works from home via her wall screen. She also uses it to teleshop at her local supermarket. Later, she uses the screen to access health care information and then to play mah jong electronically with her friends. Their son, Tay Leng Meng, accesses a Public Information Terminal (PIT) to get bus route information. When he gets home, he uses the screen to tap into numerous multimedia databases for a school assignment on wartime conditions in Singapore. (Sandfort 1993: 54; italics mine)
This summary of the Singaporean plans provides a good example of how bold and uncritical future pictures of information networks can be. Possible problems or negative horror pictures have no place in these visions. Information networks and technology are seen as offering easy and natural solutions to nearly all of the social, cultural and societal problems of our age. As the new "fashion technology," and as an important expression of the Zeitgeist (spirit of the age), it is easy to uncritically believe in the role of computer networks and telecommunications technologies. It is thus not surprising that many new democracies recently freed from communist control (e.g., Estonia, Slovenia, Poland) and (from Western perspective) under-developed Asian countries (e.g., Indonesia, Vietnam, China) have also put together their own plans for national "information highway" development. 2.4
The European "Information Society" At the dawn of the Information Age, a crisis of legitimacy is voiding of meaning and function the institutions of the industrial era. Bypassed by global networks of wealth, power, and information, the modern nation-state has lost much of its sovereignty. By trying to intervene strategically in this global scene the state loses capacity to represent its territorially rooted constituencies. In a world where multilateralism is the rule, the separation between nations
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In December 1993, the European Commission presented a memo about "growth, competitiveness and employment" to the European Council. This so-called White Paper24 is the program developed by European Commission for economic recovery, in which information technology is given a controlling share. The term "information society" and expectations concerning multimedia technology are rather conspicuous in this memo. The paper's rhetoric tends towards lofty expressions such as "The dawn of the 'multimedia' world" and "This is not a technological dream for the next century." (p. 22) The White Paper is important for European technological debate in that it initiated the European Union's infobahn projects. The task was given to the German EU commissar, Martin Bangemann, who was commissioned to report on the developmental actions necessary at the EU level. The "High-Level Group on the Information Society," an expert organ composed of continental industrial leaders under Bangemann's directorship, produced its finished report in May, 1994. It received a positive response in political circles and was approved at the EU summit meeting held in Korfu in June 1994. The Bangemann group's paper carried the bombastic title: Europe and the global information society: Recommendations to the European Council.25 This "guideline," which rose to a central position in Euro-political and public discussion, is also known as the Bangemann report. On the basis of this report the EU commission also produced a more concrete plan of action: Europe's way to the information society: an action plan.16 Bangemann's document attempts to characterize both the technological infrastructure and the political principles necessary to set up a European "information society" (cf. Bühl 1996: 24ff.). The report's concrete proposals include the speeding up of construction on the "information highway" and draws particular attention to the uneven level of development among European nations. In order to enable infobahn development work to proceed as quickly as possible the committee proposal includes typical modernization principles: common markets, technical standardization and critical masses of users. It can immediately be seen that the report considers Europe's multinational and multicultural nature to be more a hindrance to techno-economic efficiency than a cultural richness! (cf. Inkinen 1995: 12) As in the American Nil project, Bangemann's document also stresses the significance of the private sector, market forces, information economy (cf. Bühl 1996: 25-28), informational capitalism (cf. Castells 1996: 18) and open competition as the powers constituting the European information society. In addition to profit growth, the Bangemann report promises that information technology will bring "more effective management and organization," "new ways to exercise [...] creativity" and "a more caring European society with a significantly higher quality of 24
Growth, competitiveness, employment. The challenges and ways forward into the 21st Century - White Paper. Brussels, Luxembourg: European Commission 1994. 25 . 26 .
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life and a wider choice of services and entertainment" to the continent. In order to achieve these goals there is an emphasis on the central role of the education sector. As concrete examples of "the information society" of the near future, the report stresses, for instance, the significance of teleworking, distance learning and telematic services, (pp. 5-6, 25-29) 2.5
Europe on a Mission Technology never escapes politics. Thefiction of cyberspace is useful precisely to the extent that it allows its proponents to imagine an androcentric reality in which a threatening, messy, or recalcitrant (and invariably feminized) nature never intrudes. In this respect, cyberspace is consensual primarily in its insistence that technologically mediated experience can transcend the ecological and economic constraints that have shaped and continue to shape human culture. It offers the fantasy that the more technologically sophisticated our society becomes the less it has to worry about the distribution of wealth and resources. - Robert Markley (1996a: 4; italics mine)
The Bangemann report relies on the electronic sublime and a related discourse form, the rhetoric of the electronic revolution. It would be appropriate to provide a few examples here. In the introduction, the document states that European culture is currently going through a significant process of change and that this brings "a revolutionary challenge to decision makers." Bangemann's working group believes that "throughout the world, information and communication technologies are generating a new industrial revolution already as significant and far-reaching as those of the past." (p. 4)27 According to the group, we are looking at "a revolution based on information," in the field of media technology. "Technological progress now enables us to process, store, retrieve and communicate information in whatever form it may take oral, written or visual - unconstrained by distance, time and volume." According to the report, "this revolution adds huge new capacities to human intelligence and constitutes a resource which changes the way we work together and the way we live together." Likewise, "an information society is a means to achieve so many of the Union's objectives." The close of the introductory chapter has the tone of a missionary commission: "We have to get it right, and get it right now." (p. 4) And the negative aspects of this development? They are left unaddressed, since according to the pragmatic logic of the EU rhetoric and Bangemann's working group, "all revolutions generate uncertainty, discontinuity - and opportunity. Today's is no exception. How we respond, how we turn current opportunities into real 27
Manuel Castells has presented many central insights on industrialism, industrial revolutions and "informationalism," for example: "[...] industrialism is oriented toward economic growth, that is toward maximizing output; informationalism is oriented towards technological development, that is toward the accumulation of knowledge and towards higher levels of complexity in information processing." (Castells 1996: 17) / "The historical ascent of the so-called West, in fact limited to Britain and a handful of nations in Western Europe as well as to their North American, and Australian offspring, is fundamentally linked to the technological superiority achieved during the two Industrial Revolutions." (ibid.: 35) / "The first characteristic of the new [information technology] paradigm is that information is its raw material: these are technologies to act on information, not just information to act on technology, as was the case in previous technological revolutions." (ibid.: 61)
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benefits, will depend on how rapidly we can enter the European information society." The accusing finger is pointed at political decision makers. Bangemann's working group believes that "Europe is already participating in this revolution, but with an approach which is still too fragmentary and which could reduce expected benefits." (p. 4) The high-level working group complains that "public awareness of the technologies has hitherto been too limited [sic]. This must change." (p. 7) Again, this panel of major industrial leaders also states that "by sharing our vision, and appreciating its urgency, Europe's decision-makers can make the prospects for our renewed economic and social development infinitely brighter." (p. 8) In addition to the rosy scenario it paints, the report stresses the urgency of the developmental work. Because the "revolution" is already progressing so quickly in other parts of the world, the Union must act with exceptional speed before its competitors (North America and the Far East) are able to advance the "revolution" any further. Classical European virtues such as prudence, consideration and historical perspective are not open for consideration. TTie message written between the stacks of official documents appears to be that the Europe which has promoted itself as the cradle of civilization is now facing a radical shift in values towards American pragmatism. The Bangemann report (p. 7) stresses that there is no time for delay: Why the urgency? Because competitive suppliers of networks and services from outside Europe are increasingly active in our markets. They are convinced, as we must be, that if Europe arrives late our suppliers of technologies and services will lack the commercial muscle to win a share of the enormous global opportunities which lie ahead. Our companies will migrate to more attractive locations to do business. Our export markets will evaporate. We have to prove them wrong.
In addition to the great expectations directed towards the Internet and the "data highways" mentioned in the report, most European Union member countries have those same expectations in their own national plans. Let's take, for example, the EU's two newest and northernmost member states: Sweden and Finland. Both countries joined the Union at the beginning of 1995, after fierce public debates and national referendums on the subject. Swedish plans concerning the information society and information technology (IT) have been developed by many high-level working groups and their results have been published in a series of reports. Politically, one of the most significant of these working groups, the Government Commission on Information Technology, led by former prime minister Carl Bildt, published its political guidelines, Vingar ät människans förmäga (Wings to Human Ability)2' in August 1994. The vision of Bildt's working group for the positive effects of information technology on the national economy and cultural life picks up the distinctive, even limitless optimism of Gore and Bangemann. In January 1995, the Finnish Ministry of Finance published Suomi tietoyhteiskunnaksi - kansalliset linjaukset (Finland's way to the information society - The National Strategy and its Implementation).29 This strategy paper has been prepared to support Finland's renewal as a society capable of thriving and surviving. The sig2» . 2' and . See also Education, training and research in the information society. A national strategy by Finland's Ministry of Education at . According to the summary of this strategy, "Education and research are
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nificance of the strategy is based on the statement that "[wjithin an open world economy, both firms and national economies must continuously look for ways to improve productivity and competitiveness. In order to secure the well-being of citizens, and the resources required to develop the society, there are no alternatives. Renewal requires readiness for change, as well as knowhow and the use of information and technologies of the highest quality." (p. 3; italics mine) According to this report, improving productivity and competitiveness in "the networked economy and the information society" requires "information network connections to work sites and households," as well as emphasizing Finland's need "to assume an active role in the development of a European information society." Once again the message is clear. It is stated that "the opportunities offered by information technology are significant to the point that nearly all OECD countries and many international communities have drafted or are preparing information society strategies." In these strategies "the sheer necessity to implement information technology emerges as the central theme [...], the primary means being to get started with the building of the Information Highway. Another aspect evident is that information technology is seen to penetrate all sectors of the society, public as well as private. Most strategies characterise this phase of development as the Information Society." (pp. 3-5; italics mine).
3.
Critical Remarks on Electronic Utopias and Techno-optimistic Rhetoric Perhaps our networked world isn't a universal doorway to freedom. Might it be a distraction from reality? An ostrich hole to divert our attention and resources from social problems? A misuse of technology that encourages passive rather than active participation? I'm starting to ask questions like this, and I'm not the first. - Clifford Stall (1996: 2)
3.1
The European Union s Battle Plans: "The Bangemann Report"
Real world problems have never kept people from envisioning and rhetorical exaggeration. The Bangemann report is a classic example of this. It disturbingly bases its hollow sounding arguments on the rhetoric of the electronic sublime (Carey 1989: 113ff.; cf. Inkinen 1995). It presents a sort of techno-optimism, if not an enraptured "digital sermon"; the sort of revolutionary rhetoric that we are accustomed to seeing in high-tech marketing leaflets, for instance, but not necessarily in official governmental papers to be approved by heads of state. From this perspective, Bangemann's document is an intellectually weak and unsatisfactory performance. With all of its optimism, instrumentality and commercialism, the Bangemann report raises a number of critical questions. In the middle of all the rhetoric of the crucial factors for the development of Finland as an information society. For the citizens of such a society to prosper, they must possess a good general education, a wide variety of capabilities to act and solve problems, and the professional competences and skills required by the continuous changes inherent in a working life based on networks. High-quality education and the balanced development of both basic and applied research are prerequisites for successful innovation. / In the information society, knowledge is the key resource. Advances in technology which facilitate production and improve communication have an essential effect on the structure, content and methods of education and research."
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electronic sublime and expected "revolutions" it seems appropriate to ask: What's the point in all of this - with different committees being formed in Brussels, piles of reports by Eurocrats and billions of ecus in future investments? What, if I were to ask, would be the First Cause for "revolutionary leaders" like Bangemann? It is certainly not the principle of emancipation; freeing the citizens from the control of technology and inhuman mechanisms. Rather, there is a foundational emphasis on market shares and economic profit opportunities - in fact it's a question of a trade war. In the light of Bangemannian rhetoric, the idea of a "European information society" appears to be essentially attacking, defending and attempting to win this trade war, towards which goal various forms of strategic alliances and diplomatic agreements are formed. From this viewpoint the Internet, "data highways" and new media appear to be the latest weapons technology for conquering still greater market shares and profit margins. The primary thought is to form a common European front against the United States and the Far East. The world appears to be broadly and frighteningly similar to the picture in George Orwell's dystopian horror novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949) - an on-going bitter conflict between three major power blocks.· (Inkinen 1995: 16) We already know from history that the capitalist law of motion requires certain textual charm and manifestos providing various motives for support. On the other hand it remains an open question what the rhetoric foretelling society's future has to offer in terms of helping to solve current social crises and problems. Following the recent discussions on technology causes one to imagine that political technocrats would prefer locking themselves in their meeting rooms and chambers, behind poetic sounding strategies, rather than to face the world's central political, social, ecological and cultural problems. 3.2
Different "Language Games"
Besides its powerful mythologization, the discourse concerning media and information technology is plagued by an abundance of different and contradictory - but simultaneously appearing - "language games." (ibid.: 16-17) First of all, we have the side-by-side, often intertwined, commercially oriented language games of marketing personnel and business strategists, in which such catchphrases as multimedia and information highways present a dominant design, competitive advantage, market shares and new commodities conducive to consumption. In the wake of these comes the ever excited language game of the technology enthusiasts, continuously sprouting new dreams and brave visions of the future, in which technological "breakthroughs," "strides" and "revolutions" follow each other as part of the invigorating sermon. As a third group, we have the separate category of politicians and government officials, with their credulous and uncritical language game featuring such concepts as employment, resources, national competitiveness and European integration. Fourth, we have what could be called "closet humanists," with their strongly anti-technological and often nihilistic language game based on classical values and virtues, in which a university education or other such sign of sophistication is seen as a sufficient basis for evaluating the new media.
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Fifth, we can mention the puritanical language game of the technological pessimists, in which any sign of (digital) technology is an indication of a curse. And finally we have the most daring language game of all - both in terms of style and content - comprised of different forms of future visions and fantasies: the imaginary language game of sciencefiction (especially cyberpunk) in which information technology and computer networks (especially virtual reality and "cyberspace"; cf. Bühl 1996:19-21; Heim 1993; Inkinen & Salmi 1993; Levy 1995; Markley 1996b) are presented as a techno-romantic and Neo-Expressionist landscape. 3.3
Brave New Utopias: Virtual Communities as α "Gemeinschaft" The Internet is said to be a great place to meet people. It's an environment to overcome shyness and find others with similar interests, develop friendships, and perhaps find a mate. By comparing experiences, you can find support and advice from experts across the country. It's true. Superficial network interactions don't carry the same risks as face-to-face conversations do. At the same time, they lack depth, commitment, and ordinary etiquette. [...] Electronic communication is an instantaneous and illusory contact that creates a sense of intimacy without the emotional investment that leads to close friendships. - Clifford Stall (1996: 23-24)
The belief of politicians and technology enthusiasts in an "electronic revolution" would appear to justify rhetorical exaggerations and Utopian hopes for new forms of socialization - even for new societal structures. For example, in the Internet discussions of recent years network societies (cf. Castells 1996) and "virtual communities"30 have been seen as - to use Ferdinand Tönnies's classic Gemeinschaft/ Gesellschaft comparison - the Gemeinschaft-type, anti-hierarchical formations, favoring traditional and spontaneous social relationships, (cf. Rheingold 1993; Jones 1995b: 24ff.; Walther & Andersori & Park 1994; Bühl 1996:23-24; Hagel & Armstrong 1997) Information networks have in these cases also been propagated as a technology enabling communication to be liberated from hierarchies and domination (Herrschaft). This sort of utopianism has at least a tenuous connection with the social philosophical speculations of Jürgen Habermas. Habermas, in his Theory of Communicative Action (Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns), wants to liberate public discourse in society and form a communicative society with equality for all, in which emancipated individuals consider issues collectively. Habermas' Utopia is an ideal, domination-free space for communication. For him "ideal speech" is solidary communication, without the kind of authority which could distort this speech. (Habermas 1981a, 1981b; cf. Outhwaite 1996) It is immediately noticeable that Habermas' "communicative action" is not necessarily successful in electronic e-mails, discussion forums or the furiously scrolling digital postings. All in all, it seems to me that the contemporary hysterical huffing and puffing promoted by various Internet lists, "flames" and "news groups" 3o "New information technologies are integrating the world in global networks of instrumentality. Computer-mediated communication begets a vast array of virtual communities. Yet the distinctive social and political trend of the 1990s is the construction of social action and politics around primary identities, either ascribed, rooted in history and geography, or newly built in an anxious search for meaning and spirituality." (Castells 1996: 22; italics mine)
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is only getting worse. Information networks in their current form do offer an imposing amount of Barthesian "pleasure of the text" (see Barthes 1988), but considerably less ofthat which could, in the more exact and serious sense of the word, be referred to as communicative action. At least from the viewpoint of my own experimental horizon, discussions conducted "on the net" are more distinctively fragmentary, nihilistic and self-centered communications strategies than attempts to domination-free or "solidary" communication.31 Thoughts about teledemocracy are also regularly presented in discussions about information networks (Arterton 1987,1991). One of the spokesmen for this sort of thought is Howard Rheingold, according to whom computer networks represent a more democratic form of media technology than television. Rheingold (1992:106; translation mine) states, "computer networks [...] are not centralized. Everyone is a program producer. Through the net it's possible for a regular person to use the same methods as a political party. [...] You can publish manifestos and organize groups." Rheingold (1992, 1993) has also stressed the relevance of computer netw o r k as discussion forums for sub-cultures, counter-cultures and alternative perspectives. There is nothing significantly new in this sort of Utopian emphasis. Steven Jones (1995a: 2) has summarized his references to Carey and Quirk as follows: Carey [...] has eloquently argued that prophecy has accompanied the arrival of most every new communication (not to mention other) technology. What Carey and collaborator John Quirk argue is that "electrical techniques [are hailed] as the motive force of desired social change, the key to the re-creation of a humane society, the means for returning to a cherished naturalistic bliss."
The debate of information networks seems to make a lot of noise without a corresponding level of substance. Recent technological discussion with ambitious visions and missions of digital culture can be seen as the Utopias of the turn of the millennium (on Utopias and Utopian thought, see, for example, Bloch 1959; Biesterfeld 1985; Derivaux & Ruhstrat 1987; Rahkonen 1996) - and therefore as both relevant and interesting objects of investigation. 3.4
The Rhetoric of the "Electronic Revolution" An increasingly prevalent and popular brand of the futurist ethos, one that identifies electricity and electrical power, electronics and cybernetics, computers and information with a new birth of community, decentralization, ecological balance, and social harmony. This set of notions has been most readily associated with Marshall McLuhan, but his position is one in a school of thought that has been articulated and reiterated over many decades and has many spokespersons in our time. The notion of an electronic revolution is supported by a diverse consensus that includes designer R. Buckminster Fuller, musicologist John Cage, futurologist Alvin Toffler, policy scientist Zbigniew Bizezinski, elements of the New Left, theologians inspired by Teilhard de Chardin and computerologists such as Edward Feigenbaum. Outside intellectual circles the notion of an electronic revolution has been repeated and embraced by coteries of advertisers and engineers, corporate and foundation executives, and government personnel. - James Carey & John Quirk (Carey 1989: 114)
31
"Online debates of tough issues are often polarized by messages taking extreme positions. It's a great medium for trivia and hobbies, but not the place for reasoned, reflective judgment. Surprisingly often, discussions degenerate into acrimony, insults, and flames." (Stoll 1996: 32)
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The rhetoric of the electronic sublime is no longer the exclusive right of politicians, marketing personnel or technocrats. There are also many scholars and researchers who have joined the camp of contemporary techno-optimists. This way of thinking is illustrated by Stevan Hamad's idea of the way in which information networks are leading to a qualitative breakthrough in communications technologies; the fourth cognitive revolution in human thought and culture (Hamad 1991). According to Hamad, the three previous cognitive revolutions, prior to the development of information networks, were the paradigm shifts brought about by speaking ability, writing ability and printing technology: There have been three revolutions in the history of human thought, and we are on the threshold of a fourth. The first took place hundreds of thousands of years ago when language first emerged in hominid evolution and the members of our species became inclined [...] to trade amongst themselves in propositions that had truth value. [...] The second cognitive revolution was the advent of writing, tens of thousands of years ago. [...] The third revolution took place in our own millennium. With the invention of moveable type and the printing press, the laborious handcopying of texts became obsolete, and both the tempo and the scope of the written word increased enormously, (ibid.: 39-40)
A considerable faith in the electronic revolution is poetically and directly condensed in an interview with the founder of Wired magazine, Louis Rossetto. It is Rossetto's view that we are going through a genuine revolution. The current revolution differs from its predecessors only in that "there is no shooting in the streets." (Koenig 1994: 96) A good example of the rhetoric of the electronic sublime and this so-called "electronic revolution" is Rossetto's manifesto-like declaration published in the German Focus magazine (45/94): Gegenwärtig findet eine Revolution statt, die so tiefgreifend, so rasant und so weitreichend ist, daß alle anderen Revolutionen, von der industriellen bis zur russischen, dagegen wie Sandkastenspiele wirken. [...] Für viele Menschen ist diese digitale Revolution spannend und voller neuer Möglichkeiten. Für andere ist sie eine abschreckende Welt einschüchternder Technologien, durchsetzt von unverständlichen Fachwörtern wie Meg und Modem, RAM und ROM. Doch die digitale Revolution ist keine technische Revolution - sie ist eine menschliche Revolution, die unsere Nation, unsere Gemeinden und unsere Familien verändern wird.
Rossetto himself is a middle-aged ex-hippie who for ten years prior to beginning Wired lived in Amsterdam and there edited a computer magazine entitled Electric Word. I refer to this particular fact because Rossetto's alternative background has interesting links with the personal histories of seminal virtual reality representative Timothy Leary (died in 1996) and the conspicuous information network and techno music propagandist, "zippie leader" Fraser Clarke. An interesting question to be considered in itself is why so many key statements in defense of new innovations in media technology have come from the hippie/zippie cultures and psychedelic/ cyberdelic circles. Such "gurus" of new information technology as Howard Rheingold,12 John Perry Barlow, Bruce Sterling, Ted Nelson and Stewart Brand have all based their actions and rhetoric on the continuation of the distinctive alternative ideologies of the sixties (cf. Roszak 1969) — only now in computerized form (cf. 32
Rheingold has characterized himself as a sixties-style counter-cultural activist ("Aktivist der Gegenkultur im Stil der Sechziger Jahre"). See, for example, Neue Medien. Beilage der Süddeutschen Zeitung 23.2.1995, Seite III.
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Dery 1994, 1996). They all believe in the "electronic revolution" (though often referring to it in veiled terminology and with softer names) and in the emancipatory power of new media technology.33 Laurence A. Canter and Martha S. Siegel (1994: 192-196), among others, have intensively critiqued the alternative backgrounds of these technological gurus in recent Internet debates. This pair of Arizona lawyers in turn caused an unprecedented Internet scandal and violation of "netiquette" (cf. Rose 1994; MacKinnon 1995; McLaughlin & Osborne & Smith 1995) in April 1994 by sending commercial mass postings to Usenet's thousands of different news groups. These two extremes - lawyers demanding law and order on the one hand, and defenders of alternative ideologies, deviance and freedom of speech on the other interestingly represent the opposing poles in the Internet's "wild frontier" battle. The differences in viewpoint are apparently irreconcilable. Canter and Siegel are examples of the "promoters" and "defenders" of the commercial Internet; such organizations as the Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF)34 and the Internet Society35 have been the speakers in defense of an "open prairie." Metaphorically, this refers back to the 19th century situation in the American wild west, where Native Americans and settlers tried to fight off sheriffs and the cavalry. 3.5
The Cult of Information [...] my target is the concept to which the technology has become inextricably linked in the public mind: information. Information has taken on the quality of that impalpable, invisible, but plaudit-winning silk from which the emperor's ethereal gown was supposedly spun. The word has received ambitious, global definitions that make it all good things to all people. Words that come to mean everything may finally mean nothing; yet their very emptiness may allow them to be filled with a mesmerizing glamour. The loose but exuberant talk we hear on all sides these days about "the information economy," "the information society," is coming to have exactly that function. These often-repeated catchphrases and cliches are the mumbo jumbo of a widespread public cult. Like all cults, this one also has the intention of enlisting mindless allegiance and acquiescence. People who have no clear idea what they mean by information or why they should want so much of it are nonetheless prepared to believe that we live in an Information Age, which makes every computer around us what the relics of the True Cross were in the Age of Faith: emblems of salvation. - Theodore Roszak (1986: ix-x)
According to Theodore Roszak, techno-optimistic expectations concerning computers and information technology systems are technophilia; an extreme manifesta33
The connection between hi-tech, Silicon Valley and Californian (hippie) ideology has been discussed by Manuel Castells. Concerning the history of computing,"[...] while large, established companies in the East were too rigid (and too arrogant) to constantly retool themselves towards new technological frontiers, Silicon Valley kept churning out new firms, and practicing crossfertilization and knowledge diffusion by job-hopping and spin-offs. Late-evening conversations at the Walker's Wagon Wheel Bar and Grill in Mountain View did more for the diffusion of technological innovation than most seminars in Stanford." (Castells 1996: 55) / In addition to this: "The information technology revolution half-consciously diffused through the material culture of our societies the libertarian spirit that flourished in the 1960s movements." (ibid.: 6) / The so-called "Californian cyberculture" (cf. Eerikäinen 1998: 210-211) tries to combine the hippie mentality and "digital capitalism." " See . " See .
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tion of the effect that loving machines has on our lives. In his work, The Cult of Information (1986), referring primarily to the discussions of the 1980s, Roszak discusses the fact that this is not the first time people have believed that new magical machines would make their lives happy and complete. The steam engine, the electric generator, the airplane - each of these was a great symbol of progress in its time. As Roszak sees it, technological frenzies come and go together with new inventions and investments. A century and a half ago one could read stanzas of praise of the railroads in English newspapers. It is easy to laugh at the conclusions reached and the great expectations expressed in such poems, but still here and now we listen to the prophecies of salvation to be brought by new technologies. Reading through the political documents of the recent years - to say nothing of the "sermons" of eager businessmen and techno-enthusiasts - Roszak's words seem undeniably justified. With the aid of dreams, imagination and hypnotic magic words (buzzwords), it is easy to mythologize everyday inventions and applications. In extreme cases new technology can even be spoken of in religious terms of salvation, deliverance and illumination. Again the historical parallels are clear. As Ralph Waldo Emerson compared the "mystical" and "supernatural" power of steam to transcendental philosophy in the 1800s, visionaries of our own time (such as Fräser Clarke and Terence McKenna) bring information networks, virtual reality and techno music (Inkinen 1994b) together with shamanism, cyberdelic meditation technologies and experiences of spiritual satori. (cf. Dery 1994, 1996) Along the same lines - though in considerably more sedate form - the literary works of the Finnish writer Leena Krohn might be mentioned as an example of enthusiasm for the connections of new technology with the transcendental. According to Krohn, "the world of computer networks and the artificial reality which they open call to mind [...] the so-called astral level, often spoken of by turn-of-thecentury occultists. [...] The network user approaches the world as though he sent there an electronic astral projection, a projection of himself, though greatly reduced of course, which is controlled by his will through the computer and modem." (Krohn 1994; translation mine) These sorts of transcendental spheres and visions are an extreme of course, but they illustrate what a perfect environment electronic media and information technology is for blatant mythologization - even for direct New Age references (cf. Taylor & Saarinen 1994: Televangelism). The discourse surrounding computers, the Internet and information networks is naive and mythological with poetic praises, hypnotic slogans and aphoristic promises (cf. Forester 1992; Bühl 1996). Technological myths are especially actively presented in advertising rhetoric which for the products of information and telecommunications technology appears to be particularly rich in fantasy. It is a distinctive feature of the rhetoric of the electronic sublime that borders between real and imaginary (i.e., substantial and potential) technology are blurred, leaving us with the eternal promise: "If not yet, then very soon!" (Inkinen 1995: 19-20) 3.6
"Imagologies " as Media Philosophy [...] political critique of cyberspace cannot be limited to the problems of access but must engage in a sceptical treatment of the rhetoric of the "new" that is endemic to both academic and popular writing on cyberspace, postmodernism, and late capitalism. The blind spot of
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According to James Carey and John Quirk, the critical analysis of technology must begin by "demythologizing the rhetoric of the electronic sublime" (Carey 1989: 139). But whose task is this demythologizing? Presumably that of humanists and philosophers! Philosophers of the past at least - the "friends of wisdom" - took it as their task, in Hegel's words, to put the concept to the test. Philosophers should present critical comments concerning contemporary values, patterns of thought and technical frenzies. In our (media saturated, postmodern) age, however, things easily get turned a strange and wrong way round. Thus information networks, new media technology and the whole Electronic Sublime has found passionate defenders from a rather surprising source: philosophy! The rhetoric of the electronic sublime is presented in its most polemic, provocative and inspiring form in Mark C. Taylor and Esa Saarinen's work Imagologies. Media Philosophy (1994). This piece of inspired writing and experimental graphic design (the book is one kind of contemporary avant-garde) attempts to be both a statement on behalf of media philosophy and a manifesto defending new media technology. The motto selected for the back cover of the work is symptomatic: "Where would Socrates hold his dialogues today? In the media and on the net." The same pamphlet attempts - paradoxically - to argue by its graphic form against media in Gutenbergian book form. Imagologies presents on its pages a broad scale of aphoristic catchphrases and calls for electronic action of the style: "what our age needs is communicative intellect" and "expert language is a prison for knowledge and understanding."36 In the work, "imagologies" (mythologies for the electronic age?) is only one of the neologisms upon which Taylor and Saarinen's media philosophical visions are built: This collection of texts produced by "telewriting," the digital flow of consciousness which can only with great difficulty be put into Gutenbergian book form, illustrates well both the discourse of transformation and ecriture thinking: we are ejaculated into the media world which is opened for us by such neologisms as "simcult," "videovisions," "interstanding," "netropolis," "telerotics" and "cyborgs." These expressions describing media's accomplishments in creativity, interaction and freedom give us some hints about the "media philosophy," which the authors functionally define as "the public use of reason in our age." (Eerikäinen 1994a: 40; translation mine)
Taylor and Saarinen's opus represents media pragmatism and optimism stretched to its extreme. There is no room for the sort of media critique practiced by the Frankfurt school or its successors (see Held 1980; Kolakowski 1981: 341-420). Nor, of course, is it intended to be; I tend to see Imagologies as a successful and rewarding work of poetry, captivating its reader and - for me at least - offering tremendous textual enjoyment and visual charm! An interesting sign of our (postmodern?) times, however, is that this sort of avant-garde collection of prose has been published and intensively promoted by the scientific publishing house Routledge. 36
Taylor & Saarinen 1994, chapter "Communicative Practices," pages 2, 8.
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According to Jean Baudrillard (cf. 1983,1988,1994), the greatest need to speak comes when one has nothing (substantial) to say. Besides Baudrillard's media critical texts, the rhetoric of the electronic sublime in its current form also brings to mind Herbert Marcuse's thought presented in One Dimensional Man (1972). Contemporary language is emptied of content, and in its place we have hypnotic catchphrases and irrational slogans. The "Internet," "data highways," and the "information society" - as they are currently being presented - are textbook examples of the mantras of technological believers, which can be intentionally and randomly given quite a diverse range of connotations. 3.7
Confusing Technobabble
John A. Barry has made a number of key observations about the looseness and the lack of conceptual discipline in the current technological jargon in his work, Technobabble (1992). For me the title of Barry's book is an accurate term for the complicated, mythological and techno-optimistic language usage surrounding new media technology. Recent technological rhetoric has not only been sublime, but also confusing. Some of the most dramatic problems in clarity and mutual understanding come from confusing such terms as "data," "information" and "knowledge"; i.e., seeing no semantic difference between them. I have already pointed out the abundance of technical terminology at the beginning of this article. Ever braver and wilder neologisms have increasingly flowed into the discussion over the past few years. The English term buzzword aptly describes such technological terminology. These neologisms are created and promoted primarily by the mass media, the publication mechanism of which perpetually requires a flow of new and exciting verbiage. Fogginess, mythicalness, polysemy, overlap and even outright contradiction in terminology are distinctive features of popular "technobabble." (Inkinen 1994a, 1995: 20-22) It is noteworthy how simple and laconic things change into sublime slogans in techno-rhetoric. It is an entirely different thing, of course, to speak laconically about data transfers and information systems than to rattle on manically about the databahn, cyberspace and the messianic Information Superhighway. And it is entirely different for government organisations to produce some dull memo to be filed and forgotten than to publish sublime National Policy Reference Papers and Strategies that demand respect on the basis of their names alone. The inexactitude associated with this sort of language usage has been critiqued, for example, by Henry Bacon (1994: 2). For Bacon - in politics, marketing and generally in all planning and decision making processes - verbal images and other rhetorical devices are used to help ideas and issues give a stronger impression. Verbal images are used to provide a presentation with the desired tone. Words are viruses, William Burroughs once claimed. At least in terms of technological vernacular the analogy seems apt. The current terminology of media and information technology offers a seemingly boundless cornucopia to the creative arranger of words. Thus, we can read in contemporary writer Douglas Rushkoff's Cyberia (1994) how he sees hyperspace as a great, all-encompassing key concept and magical zone, in which hackerism, computer networks, fractal mathematics, rave culture and psychedelic experimentation can all easily fit together.
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The loose mentality of discourse on media technology has also used language which carelessly confuses things. At its worst moments hypertext is associated with Jean Baudrillard's and Umberto Eco's hyperreahsm (cf. Baudrillard 1983, 1988,1994; Eco 1986), and the Internet with the z'wtertextuality of, among others, Julia Kristeva and Jacques Derrida. Nor has technobabble always been able to bother distinguishing between the various concepts of "simulation." Thus, simulation in terms of "technical modeling" has been connected with the postmodern concept of cultural theoretical simulation (cf. Ylä-Kotola 1998). "Interactivity" should also be subject to more intense conceptual scrutiny. There are just so many different types of interaction; the contrast between Gene Youngblood's theories of interaction, Manuel Castells' (1996: 358-364) "interactive society," Henryk Skolimowski's "interactive mind", Don Tapscott's (1997: 55fF.) "culture of interaction" and the flat "interactive entertainment" offered to television audiences (such as the "Hugo" television game) is rather dramatic." Some of the inexactitude and misunderstanding appearing in the discourse can be explained in terms of the multi-disciplinary and multifaceted nature of research concerning media and information technologies, but this cannot be used as an excuse for conceptual laziness and lack of discipline. What we need is deeper, more critical and reflective discourse on media and information technologies - and their social and cultural implications. In the heuristic words of Carey and Quirk: The first task is to demythologize the rhetoric of the electronic sublime. Electronics is neither the arrival of apocalypse nor the dispensation of grace. Technology is technology; it is a means for communication and transportation over space, and nothing more. As we demythologize, we might also begin to dismantle the fetishes of communication for the sake of communication, and decentralization and participation without reference to content or context. Citizens now suffer in many areas from overloads of communication and overdoses of participation. (Carey 1989: 139-140; italics mine)
This is a very relevant and important observation with which I agree. An urbanized, stressed-out and mechanized citizen needs more peace and time for himself less communication and (new) technology around (cf. McKibben 1993). On the other hand, technology is not only technology: it is also a discourse, a cultural form (Williams 1975) and a forum for various social rituals and activities. 4.
The History and Critique of the "Information Society"
4.1
Background: Machlup, Porat, Bell, Masuda Toward the end of the second millennium of the Christian Era several events of historical significance have transformed the social landscape of human life. A technological revolution, centered around information technologies, is reshaping, at accelerated pace, the material basis of society. Economies throughout the world have become globally interdependent, introducing a new form of relationship between economy, state, and society, in a system of variable geometry. - Manuel Castells (1996: 1; italics mine)
" Clifford Stoll (1996: 22) has critically commented on interactive computer entertainment by stating that it "gives you a choice of many different outcomes, all preprogrammed. The experience is about as interactive as a candy machine. / Even the term multimedia is wrong, since there's only one medium employed: the computer."
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In order to illuminate the background of the concept to the "information society," a brief historical investigation is in order. The starting point for the discussion of an information society is commonly considered to be economist Fritz Machlup's idea (cf. 1962) of information being a utility to be produced, consumed, bought and sold just like other products. Apparently the first place where Machlup's ideas inspired further discussion was in Japan, where johoka shakai (the information society; see Castells 1996: 22) became an important issue. In the West Marc Porat (1977), among others, brought these ideas into discussion through his research concerning the information economy, (see Inkinen 1995; Bühl 1996: 24ff.) The studies written in the 1980s containfour central themes related to the information society (Mertanen 1986). These are: (1)
(2)
(3) (4)
a change in professional structures, in which the industrial work force is set free thanks to technological improvements requiring less labor, and a corresponding expansion of the service and information sectors, communications equipment and computers being linked together by networks which will change professional life, mass communication, family life, education, etc., to the extent that we can speak of a new form of society, information as a form of wealth, the technical applications of which will insure the competitiveness of states and enterprises. Information will replace physical work and labor, new technology as the enabler of fundamentally new values and lifestyles in a non-authoritarian paradise.
"The information society" is presented particularly authoritatively in texts by Japanese futurologist Yoneji Masuda. Masuda presented his thoughts concerning the information society in his futurological classic published in 1980, The Information Society as Post-Industrial Society. As is already apparent in the title, Masuda's visions of the information society are based on sociologist Daniel Bell's (1973) often quoted views on "post-industrial society." Bell and his followers use this term to refer to a society in which the majority of workers are in service professions, and where production operations are carried out by highly developed computer and information technologies. The bases of Masuda's "information society" are powerfully mythologized, techno-romantic and Utopian intentions. His visions are closely connected with the socalled computopian (= computer Utopian) model for society. Masuda's proposed ideal nation of the future is an intensely computerized society, which he presents as a fruitful alternative to the potentially catastrophic "automated nation." In this vision, the whole problem of the use of power is solved by citizens' education, because everyone will have the ability and the opportunity to utilize the new technology. The key that will open this paradise is information technology; it's just that a whole new type of person will be needed hold this key. (Masuda 1981, 1990) Masuda's visions of the "information society" lean heavily on evolutionary optimism. According to Masuda's Utopia (1985), the modern narrow-minded, intellect based homo sapiens will, during the age of and as the result of the information society, develop into a homo intelligens, operating on the holistic level. Masuda bases this hypothesis on a theory of the side by side, interrelated evolution of genes and culture. In the Masudian dream, homo intelligens will be able to build a civilization separate from the problems and inequalities of the society created by homo sapiens. The planning and decision making in the society of the future, according to this Utopia, will stress the significance of ethics.
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The visions are thus beautiful and sublime, but the main problem with Masuda's computopia remains that he has entirely left out the sociological and societal content of the information society. Masuda is not able to assure us that we either have moved or are moving into a new form of information controlled society - the sort which also qualitatively differs from the contemporary situation. So Masuda's vision, other than the few concrete examples he offers, remains an abstract and incomplete Utopia. (Rahkonen 1996: 51) Masuda's "information society" is not necessarily the conceptual basis for the "information society" which the European Union has proposed for itself in the Bangemann report and other political strategies, but thematic connections can be found between these two projects. Both feature a rather "utilitarian" way of thinking, in which the central focus of concern is on the technical aspects of information and media technology. Social, cultural and societal progress are seen as the automatic outcome of technological infrastructures. This sort of hypothetical technocratic world is well described by Raymond Williams' (1975: 13) previously mentioned concept of "technological determinism." 4.2
The Apostles of the "Information Society": Toffler, Naisbitt, Attali
Even more bold, and likewise more naive, Utopias regarding the information and media society are presented in the work of American futurological and technological visionaries Alvin Toffler and John Naisbitt. Toffler has popularized the conceptual models presented by Bell and Porat by using the famous wave metaphor (Toffler 1980) and by appearing as a prophet of "the third wave," dominantly based on the economy and technology of information. Naisbitt, for his part, has condensed his visions of cultural change down into major directional "megatrends."3' The basis of Naisbitt's and his researcher wife Patricia Aburdene's "megatrends of the 1990s" is the premise that the megatrends of the previous decade have been fulfilled. According to this couple of researchers, the fundamental "megatrends" shaking the world in the turn of the millennium are, for example, "The Booming Global Economy of the 1990's," "Global Lifestyles and Cultural Nationalism," "The Age of Biology" and "Triumph of the Individual." (see Naisbitt & Aburdene 1990: xix) A quote from the beginning of the book Megatrends 2000 gives a fair picture of the ecstatic optimism and sublime character of the Naisbittian rhetoric: We stand at the dawn of a new era. / Before us is the most important decade in the history of civilization, a period of stunning technological innovation, unprecedented economic opportunity, surprising political reform, and great cultural rebirth. It will be a decade like none that has come before because it will culminate in the millennium, the year 2000. (ibid.: xvii)
Substantial, relevant critique of Toffler and Naisbitt has been presented by Theodore Roszak. According to Roszak, 38
According to the book Megatrends, published in 1982, the major directional, significantly lifealtering "megatrends" of the 1980s were the following: (1) Industrial Society - > to Information Society, (2) Forced Technology - > to High Tech/High Touch, (3) National Economy - > to World Economy, (4) Short Term - > to Long Term, (5) Centralization - > to Decentralization, (6) Institutional Help - > to Self-Help, (7) Representative Democracy - > to Participatory Democracy, (8) Hierarchies - > to Networking, (9) North - > to South, (10) Either/Or - > to Multiple Option, (see Naisbitt & Aburdene 1990: xviii)
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.Books like these belong to that immensely popular category of contemporary literature called futurology, an ungainly hybrid of potted social science, Sunday supplement journalism, and soothsaying. Theyfeature breezy scenarios of Things To Come pitched at about the intellectual level of advertising copy. Sensational snippets and zany catchphrases fill every page with breathtaking amazements; glittering predictions whiz by on all sides. Reading Naisbitt and Toffler is like a fast jog down a World's Fair midway. We might almost believe, from their simplistic formulation of the information economy, that we will soon be living on a diet of floppy disks and walking streets paved with microchips. Seemingly, there are no longer any fields to till, any ores to mine, any heavy industrial goods to manufacture; at most these continuing necessities of life are mentioned in passing and then lost in the sizzle of pure electronic energy somehow meeting all human needs painlessly and instantaneously. (Roszak 1986: 21-22; italics mine)
Futurological, techno-optimistic literature is not the exclusive property of Americans, of course. One person who might be mentioned as a European counterpart to Toffler and Naisbitt is futurist-essayist Jacques Attali (see 1990) whose ideas can be sarcastically referred to as a hymn of praise to the electronic sublime. According to Attali's visions, absolutely everywhere — not just in more developed countries technological progress will lead to massive increases in production. It will realize profits to be invested and wages to be consumed. New revolutionary services and especially leisure products for all classes will appear, markets will open and employment will be generated. Attali believes that computers and microprocessors will have a significant role in this development: Just as merchant ships improved the connections of the 17th century, and the steam engine multiplied the efficiency of animal pulled equipment in the 18th century, the microprocessor, bom nearly without notice, has opened the way for the industrialization of services. [...] A new tool, the computer, brings together and utilizes microprocessors in complex designing work, for example, to exponentially increase production. (Attali 1990: 126-127; translation mine)39
4.3
Megatrends or Megamistakes?
Critics like Tom Forester consider the information society Utopia to be unrealistic. Forester has shown in his biting article, "Megatrends or Megamistakes? What Ever Happened to the Information Society?" (1992), how the vast majority of the expectations concerning the information society ("the paperless office," "the electronic cottage," "the cashless society," "computerized teachers," etc.) have failed to come to pass. It appears, vice versa, that the computer has brought new social, psychological and ethical problems into Western society, examples of which are unreli-
» According to Manuel Castells, "The giant leap forward in the diffusion of microelectronics in all machines came in 1971 with the invention by an Intel engineer, Ted Hoff (also in Silicon Valley), of the microprocessor, that is the computer on a chip. Thus, information processing power could be installed everywhere. The race was on for ever-greater inteigration capacity of circuits on a single chip, the technology of design and manufacturing constantly exceeding the limits of integration previously thought to be physically impossible without abandoning the use of silicon material." (Castells 1996: 42; italics mine) / The scholar also continues: "[...] the microprocessor, the key device in spreading microelectronics, was invented in 1971 and began to difftise by the mid-1970s. The microcomputer was invented in 1975 and the first successful commercial product, Apple II, was introduced in April 1977, around the same date that Microsoft started to produce operating systems for microcomputers." (ibid.: 47)
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able programs, computerized crime, copyright violations, hackers, crackers, computer viruses, questions of privacy and general information overload. According to Forester, The truth is that society has not changed very much. The microchip has had much less social impact than almost everyone predicted. All the talk aboutfuture shocks, third waves, megatrends and post-industrial societies must now be taken with a large pinch of salt. Life goes on for the vast majority of people in much the same old way. Computers have infiltrated many areas of our social life, but they have not transformed it. Computers have proved to be useful tools - no more, no less. None of the more extreme predictions about the impact of computers on society have turned out to be correct. Neither Utopia nor Dystopia has arrived on Earth as a result of computerization. (Forester 1992: 134; italics mine)
Utopias and dystopias are continuously being born and dying. It is important to note that there is nothing radically new about ideas such as Masuda's "computopia" or Bangemann's "European information society." They are all a part of the continuous Utopian tradition which is a trademark of the history of Western civilization. The same as the aristocratic polis ideal sketched out in Plato's Republic dialogues, or such Renaissance classics as Thomas More's Utopia (1516), Tommaso Campanella's The City of the Sun (1602), Francis Bacon's New Atlantis (1624), current techno-utopias present us with solutions to the problems of building a more highly developed and just society. One of those who has catalogued some of the common features of the social Utopias is Thomas Markus (1985: 8-9) who finds seven basic themes being repeated in them. According to Markus, Utopias have distinctive hopes for changes (usually quite radical ones) in family structures, sexual relationships and food production. They also often contain idealistic intentions concerning money and possessions, included in a dream of changing work from a stressful and irritating necessity into an enjoyable creative activity (cf. with the visions of Masuda, Toffler and Naisbitt). Associated with the concept of Utopia is an opposition to aristocracy, power elite and social classes (cf. enlightenment philosophy, teledemocracy Utopias, etc.). Characteristics of social Utopias are also an ideal of harmony between humanity and nature as well as a goal of equality in education. From this perspective, the "information societies" and "media societies" being propagated by contemporary governments and futurologists seem to be more ancient than recent ideas. The magnificent visions and missions of the information/ knowledge society, post-industrial society, media society, communications society, cyberocracy (Ronfeldt 1992), the third wave, megatrends, knowledge as a factor of production, etc., in the final analysis only promote the classical ideas and visions of Utopian literature and rhetoric. This sort of utopianism, however, is attractively contagious. Thus, it is not surprising at all that in the Worldwatch Institute's State of the World 1994, for example, special attention was given to the role of information technology and computer networks. The articles in the report were otherwise groaning with pessimism concerning global population and economic situations, but information technology and networks were seen as very positive resources for the future (see Young 1994). With the help of the new information technology, it is believed possible to increase interaction between people and cultures as well as reduce the development of conflict situations (sic). The report makes the requirement that information networks
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must be easy to use and within the reach of all developing countries and struggling democracies. At the same time it requires that governments openly distribute information through these networks. I find these visions overly optimistic. The power of Utopian thinking can be alarmingly invigorating. According to Clifford Stoll, Today's Internet hustlers invade our communities with computers, not concrete. By pushing the Internet as a universal panacea, they offer a tempting escape from this all-too-mundane world. They tell us that we need not get along with our neighbors - heck, we needn't even interact with them. Won't need to travel to a library either; those books will come right to my desk. Interactive multimedia will solve classroom problems. Fat pay checks and lifelong employment await those who master computers. They're well-meaning, or course. They truly believe in virtual communities and electronic classrooms. They'll tell you how the computer is a tool to be used, not abused. Because clearly, the computer is the key to the future. The key ingredient of their silicon snake oil is a technocratic belief that computers and networks will make a better society. Access to information, better communications, and electronic programs can cure social problems. I don't believe them. There are no simple technological solutions to social problems. There's plenty of distrust and animosity between people who communicate perfectly well. Access to universe of information cannot solve our problems: we will forever struggle to understand one another. The most important interactions in life happen between people, not between computers. (Stoll 1996: 49-50; italics mine)
J.
The Media Technological Future
5.1
The "New Media" and Postmodernism
The cultural philosophical analysis of new media and information technology brings up an interesting conflict. These technologies are generally closely associated with cultural postmodernism), the indicators of which are, e.g., global databanks, electronic communications and a real-time operating principle (cf. Poster 1995). Beyond this, the media (cultures) appear to be sketching the sort of qualitative definitions which are often associated with postmodernism, such as the superficiality and brokenness of our world(view), as well as the fragmentary discontinuity of the surrounding field of phenomena. At the same time though, the media are presented as the Meta Narrative of our time, the total conquest of chaos and an ambitious Utopian landscape. Hannu Eerikäinen (1994b: 63) has aptly summarized the situation: "[...] media have become the new intellectual fashion [...]. Media are the meta-narrative of the nineties." Eerikäinen (1994a: 19) also states that although technology generally seems to bear Utopian thought, it seems that media technology has been a particularly fruitful ground for various fantasy pictures, in which media point the way towards a better future. In other words: We have a situation where, just like the believers of the world of machines in the 19th century, the techno-philosophers of our time - the thinkers of technological avant-garde conquering the digital world - are presenting viewpoints expressing not only the interrelationship of technological and cultural change, but also the hopeful image of new technologies, including new forms of media, opening the way from our present situation to a more developed future situation which we cannot yet experience as present, but which is already formed as a conceptual model - as a Utopia. (Eerikäinen 1994a: 4; translation mine)
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For me, it remains a matter of speculation as to what kind of postmodern entity can represent a meta-narrative and Utopian totality which simultaneously propagates itself as a context for a new form of "liberating" fragmentariness, anti-hierarchicalness and an associative environment - unless this sort of paradox is considered to be a "postmodern" trademark. In the midst of the fear, instability, and fragility which are part of the contemporary culture, at least one thing seems certain: the ending of the Meta Narratives about which postmodernists are so nervous and enthusiastic does not seem very likely. In our time grand narratives are still being told and grand Utopias are still being born - to the extent that at times it even seems like there is an expansion of Utopian energy going on around us. Against this background Jürgen Habermas' (1985) concerns over our culture's die neue Unübersichtlichkeit are perhaps somewhat exaggerated. Considering the recent promises of information technology and the digital world, it doesn't seem at all like we are running out of Utopian energy - quite the opposite. On the basis of the rhetoric of the electronic sublime presented in recent years, it seems that from computers, microelectronics, the Internet and "information highways" a Utopia (and at the same time a dystopia) is growing which may surpass all of its predecessors. 5.2
Techno-Religious Thinking
The superlative belief in the possibilities of information and media technology has generated a cult that could even be classified as techno-religious. The interesting thing is that the birth of social Utopias is usually associated with cultural secularization; with a situation in which belief in a religious paradise is weakened and where the Utopias, associated with new technology, often present new ideas of paradise. As an example of contemporary techno-religious thought, Hannu Eerikäinen (1994a: 21; cf. Inkinen 1995: 25-26) sites Peter Russell's description of the "global brain" created by information and telecommunications technology, and the "planetary understanding" and "global consciousness" which come from them.40 Eerikäinen refers to the media thinker Marshall McLuhan as another example of "techno-religious" theorist, in that Carey and Quirk also see a "guiding hand" in his visions for communications. It seems less than pure coincidence that there has been a tendency to quote McLuhan's classical texts from the 1960s in recent technological discussions; McLuhanite rhetoric is well suited for expressing the "spirit of the age," (Zeitgeist) stressing global media, electronic technology and transnational culture. Particularly popular has been McLuhan's idea of a global village brought together by the telecommunications infrastructure, which seems to be an ideal analogy for picturing an Internet-style global information network.41 (see McLuhan 1962,1964; McLuhan & Powers 1989; Bühl 1996: 23-24; for criticism on McLuhan see, for example, Miller 1971) 40
All of the bravest and most unrealistic visions have been able to find a comfortable place in this sort of techno-religious world view and its hopeful eschatology; after all, the original meaning of the word "vision" is an illusion experienced in a state of religious ecstasy. It is also relevant to notice that many "cyber theorists" (and McLuhan before them) have adapted influences to their thinking and writing from the Catholic theologist Teilhard de Chardin. 41 In Manuel Castells' discussion on McLuhan, I would like to draw the attention to the following: "[...] we are not living in a global village, but in customized cottages globally produced and
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I certainly have nothing against lofty and poetic language in essays and journalism, for instance, but these sorts of analogies still strike me as being rather dangerous, in that they create an illusion of a technically and socially united world. Those which equate the Internet with the "global village" have not taken into account the uneven distribution of computers in the world. The Worldwatch Institute's statistics for 1993 showed that for every thousand people in the United States there were 265 computers; in Russia, 4; in China and India, 1 (Young 1994: 113). Since the basic structure of information technology is so irregular and unequal, the idea of computer networks forming the "global village" lacks support.42 5.3
Liberty and Order — Information Technology as a Utopia Oh, I care about what happens to our networked neighborhood. However, I care more about - and am affected more by - what's happening in our larger society. [...] I can't help worrying about the gross disparity between the ballyhooed electronic Utopia and the mundane reality of today's networked community. [...] Listening to digital prophets pointing to the promised land makes me crotchety and prone to mutter. - Clifford Stoll (1996: 3, 13)
Utopian thought appears to be such a fixed and integral part of our culture that it is actually inevitable. From this perspective, the view of Hartmut Schröder (1993: 10) that "only he who dares to dream has strength to develop," appears to be correct in a broader cultural philosophical context (cf. Castells 1998: 358-360). Eerikäinen (1994a: 20) has also analyzed the significance of Utopias in contemporary culture and thought. He distinguishes between two different levels of Utopia. They can be "future fantasies, expressing the ideal goals towards which we are striving"; or otherwise they are (perhaps in veiled form) "present critiques, as though fantasies' opposites, alternates and negative evaluations of the age." In Utopias, theoretical and conceptual constructions are publicly stated. Eerikäinen also applies Ernst Bloch's (1959) division of Utopias into two basic categories - Utopias of order and liberty - and presents an idea that media technological Utopias are by nature a hybrid of the two: locally distributed." (Castells 1996: 341) / "[...] we can say that in the new media system, the message is the medium. That is, the characteristics of the message will shape the characteristics of the medium. For instance, if feeding the musical environment of teenagers is the message (a very explicit one), MTV will be tailored to the rites and language of this audience, not only in the content but in the whole organization of the station and in the technology and design of image production/broadcasting." (ibid.: 340) 42 As Castells has it, "[...] new information technologies have spread throughout the globe with lightning speed in less than two decades, between the mid-1970s and the mid-1990s, displaying a logic that I propose as characteristic of this technological revolution: the immediate application to its own development of technologies it generates, connecting the world through information technology. To be sure, there are large areas of the world, and considerable segments of the population, switched offfrom the new technological system [...]. Furthermore, the speed of technological diffusion is selective, both socially and functionally. Differential timing in access to the power of technology for people, countries, and regions is a critical source of inequality in our society. The switched-off areas are culturally and spatially discontinuous: they are in the American inner cities or in the French banlieues, as much as in the shanty towns of Africa or in the deprived rural areas of China or India. Yet dominant functions, social groups, and territories across the globe are connected by the mid-1990s in a new technological system that, as such, started to take shape only in the 1970s." (Castells 1996: 33-34; italics mine)
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It can be said that the fantasies associated with media technology are precisely Utopias of liberty, in that no attempt is made to gain control by use of them; on the contrary, every member of society has the same basic right to free communication. This thought was equally well reflected by goals of the video-guerrillas of Media-America and by the intentions of different sorts of alternative television channel developers to give citizens access to media; by the thought developed in Brecht's radio theory of a network of two-way channels making societal dialogue possible, and by the futuristic imaginations of contemporary thinkers of the digital world about cyberspace and virtual reality. (Eerikäinen 1994a: 21; translation mine)
I give one example of this sort of libertarian Utopian rhetoric. The provocative battle cry, "Information wants to be free!" is often presented as the ideological motto of computer networks and new information technology. Especially central to this emphasis on the principle of freedom in information and communication are the demands of the anarchically tuned in communities of hackers and cyberpunks. Cyberpunk culture participant Gareth Branwyn (1992; cf. Marchart 1998) has sketched out this sort of ideology with such slogans as "Mistrust Authority!", "Promote Decentralization!", "Do It Yourself!" and "feed the noise back into the system!" These slogans are examples of a world view focused on different sorts of libertarian Utopias and emancipatory principles, as opposed to the visions of mega-corporations in the multimedia industry - and also of the multimedia enthusiasts whose intellectual diet comes from the marketing ideologies of these corporations of a world full of CD-ROMs and other digital technology are in fact Utopias of order, and in many ways for me dystopias, in that in such a world Herbert Marcuse's horror picture of an entirely planned out society, in which "anonymous wisdom" is prepared for everyone on every side, would be realized. (Eerikäinen 1994a: 21; tranlation mine)
Eerikäinen's reference to Marcuse requires further investigation outside the scope of this article. Suffice to say that computer networks could easily become a new instrument of domination (Herrschaft); the intrusion of technology for intimidating inspection and control into the home and office. It is therefore a relief to see that Howard Rheingold, for example, in the last chapter of his work, The Virtual Community (1993), refers also to the negative threats - be it as it may that Rheingold's examples and arguments in favor of computer networks overpoweringly cover the more critical emphases seasoned with Foucault and Habermas at the end. 5.4
New Technology: Panacea or Panopticon?
The developers and defenders of new technology have not necessarily noticed that the personal computer might also be a personal HAL 9000 which registers its users' consumer decisions, schedules, comings and goings into large databases and records them for a certain time on magnetic tape, by the browsing and connecting of which anyone's life can be reconstructed and embarrassing personal profiles can be constructed. In theory it is entirely possible that computer networks and "information highways" could be turned into a digital, "interactive" version of Jeremy Bentham's panopticon·,technology with the help of which it would be possible to realize control mechanisms of unprecedented efficiency and create a state of fear to keep citizens in subjection to the "anonymous wisdom" speaking to them from behind the computer screen. Russell Spears and Martin Lea (1994), among others, have referred to the panopticon in an article they have written on CMC (computer-mediated communica-
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tions).43 Hannu Eerikäinen, for his part, has written about "the new transparency" {die neue Durchsichtigkeit). According to Eerikäinen (1994a: 20), more information is available about everything than at any previous time in human history; thanks to communications connections nothing is out of reach anymore; nothing can escape, since everything can be put on record; and an overview of any subject, which can be used to submission and control, can be produced by computer.44 This is the sort offrightening,realistic risk exposing viewpoint of which political romantics and technological visionaries should take serious notice. The "information society" painted in rosy colors in Utopias might not be very farfromGeorge Orwell's totalitarian dystopia with its control screens and computer-illiterate proletariat. Nor is it necessarily farfromAldous Huxley's (1984) [1932] "brave new world," in which people wallowing in pleasure and well-being gladly swallow media-soma to dull their consciousness, as billions of citizens are already doing with game shows, formula races and soap operas. In terms of Neil Postman's (1986) way of looking at things, we could say that "information highways" might well be just a new way to amuse ourselves to death.45 (cf. Schulze 1992; McKibben 1993) 43
44
Again, I would like to refer to Castells who has presented many valuable crystallized thoughts on the social implications of computer-mediated communication: "[...] CMC is not a general medium of communication and will not be so in the foreseeable future. While its use expands at phenomenal rates it will exclude for a long time the large majority of humankind, unlike television and other mass media. [...] CMC as such will remain the domain of an educated segment of the population of the most advanced countries, numbered in tens of millions but still counting as an elite on a global scale." (Castells 1996: 358-359) / "[...] within the segment of regular users of CMC, it appears that the medium favors uninhibited communication and stimulates participation from lower-status workers in company-based networks. Along the same line of argument, women, and other oppressed groups of society, seem to be more likely to express themselves openly through the protection of the electronic medium [...]. CMC could offer a chance to reverse traditional power games in the communication process." (ibid.: 360) / "[...] the overwhelming proportion of CMC activity takes place at work or in work-related situations. [...] while people using computers at home enjoy their self-reliance in the management of time and space, they resent the lack of distinct separation between work and leisure, family and business, personality and function. Let us say, as a hypothesis [...] that the convergence of experience in the same medium blurs somewhat the institutional separation of domains of activity, and confuses codes of behavior." (ibid.: 360-361) / "What is common to CMC is that, according to the few existing studies on the matter, it does not substitute for other means of communication nor does it create new networks: it reinforces the preexisting social patterns. It adds to telephone and transportation communication, it expands the reach of social networks, and makes it possible for them to interact more actively and in chosen time patterns." (ibid.: 363) / "Yet for electronic networks at large, they tend to reinforce the cosmopolitanism of the new professional and managerial classes living symbolically in a global frame of reference, unlike most of the population in any country. Thus, CMC may be a powerful medium to reinforce the social cohesion of the cosmopolitan elite, providing material support to the meaning of a global culture [...]." (ibid.: 364)
According to Stoll, "When every transaction leaves electronic footprints, pretty soon a computer knows things about us that we may want to keep hidden. I'm not talking about illegal things here, but simple stuff: a computer may know how much someone spent on liquor last week. How often I traveled to San Francisco. What phone calls I've made." (Stoll 1996: 35) « An in-depth discussion on television is impossible in the scope of this article. Neil Postman (see 1996) has aptly analyzed and criticized today's television discourse. According to him, the ideology of television emphasizes in all communication entertainment, amusement and pleasure (cf. Dellinger 1995, 1998). Manuel Castells, on the other hand, has written: "What was fundamentally new in television? The novelty was not so much its centralizing power and its
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Perhaps the most important question concerning media technology is this: are there any alternatives to this development? Especially in political documents Technological Progress proceeds without any critical objections. This way of thinking does not need to be accepted as such. We must ask what makes sublime electronic technology "better" than the traditional? Why, for example, is it more "progressive" to read text from a computer screen rather than from a page in a book? Why must the elementary school teacher be replaced by CD-ROM and computer-mediated distance learning? Why must video movies be ordered by cable when they can already be painlessly acquired from rental shops? There are several critical questions to be addressed and answered. Stoll (1996: 11) has presented valuable arguments for the traditional, "old-fashioned" solutions: I see businesses squeeze their products into computers, even when they don't fit. Books on paper work damned well, as do post offices, newspapers, and the telephone. Yet I find offerings from publishers and phone companies that leave me scratching my head. I've rarely met anyone who prefers to read digital books. I don't want my morning paper delivered over computer, or a CD-ROM stuffed with National Geographic photographs. Call me a troglodyte; I'd rather peruse those photos alongside my sweetheart, catch the newspaper on the way to work, and page through a real book.
In my opinion, we should also ask: why must we communicate? What is so good in poorly structured databases and overwhelming amounts of information? Baudrillard's (1988) viewpoint on the referenceless contemporary "ecstasy of communication," and the "implosion of meaning" which goes with it, is that there is not necessarily anything inherently valuable in communications. Do not continuous repetitions about the importance of information and communication technologies, databanks, the Internet, etc., just represent loose political and commercial rhetoric? Gianni Vattimo's viewpoint presented in The Transparent Society (1992) appears to be correct, and more and more inevitable: the whole logic of the information "market" presupposes the logic of the continuous expansion of that market. As the result of this "everything" becomes a subject of communication in one way or another. The ethics of media technology (cf. Lenk & Ropohl 1987; Tester 1994) are an important consideration unto themselves. The brave new information society can easily develop into an elite technocracy, and it is only a short distance from there to the forming of a new type of aristocracy; a rough and undemocratic world in which the privileged class are those who have been blessed with the interest and ability to study the most recent tools of information and communications technologies. From the perspective of the current tendency, this seems both frightening and probable. It seems that the effects of new media technology will be extending in the immediate future into all areas of life and touching all people; including those who are not directly involved or interested in them. potential as a propaganda instrument. After all, Hitler showed how radio could be a formidable instrument of resonance for one-way single-purpose messages. What TV represented [...] was the end of the Gutenberg Galaxy, that is of a system of communication essentially dominated by the typographic mind and the phonetic alphabet order." (Castells 1996: 331) / "While print favors systematic exposition, TV is best suited to casual conversation." (ibid.: 332) / "[...] the television modality of communication is a fundamentally new medium, characterized by its seductiveness, its sensorial simulation of reality, and its easy communicability along the lines of least psychological effort." (ibid.: 333)
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Conclusion The new power lies in the codes of information and in the images of representation around which societies organize their institutions, and people build their lives, and decide their behavior. The sites of this power are people's minds. This is why power in the Information Age is at the same time identifiable and diffused. We know what it is, yet we cannot seize it because power is a function of an endless battle around the cultural codes of society. Whoever, or whatever, wins the battle of people's minds will rule, because mighty, rigid apparatuses will not be a match, in any reasonable timespan, for the minds mobilized around the power of flexible, alternative networks. But victories may be ephemeral, since the turbulence of information flows will keep codes in a constant swirl. This is why identities are so important, and ultimately, so powerful in this ever-changing power structure - because they build interests, values, and projects, around experience, and refuse to dissolve by establishing a specific connection between nature, history, geography, and culture. Identities anchor power in some areas of the social structure, and build from there their resistance or their offensives in the informational struggle about the cultural codes constructing behavior and, thus, new institutions. - Manuel Castells (1997: 359-360)
Walther Christoph Zimmerli has used the concept of "cultural technology" (Kulturtechnik) to describe those skills which are everywhere present, passed on from one generation to the next and are essential for survival. From Zimmerli's point of view, data processing information technology has already so powerfully intruded into every area of society that we can definitely refer to it as Kulturtechnik. Information technology is not only everywhere present; it is also a "cross-over technology" encompassing all areas of life.46 (Zimmerli 1990: 206) If Zimmerli is to be believed, political decision makers and the world of business have chosen the right course in directing resources into the development of information and media technologies. Talk about "network society" (Castells 1996), "media literacy," "digitality," "techno-sphere" or "information highways" is not unfounded in this context. The new technology is undoubtedly an efficient and important tool for the tasks of research, education and government alike. Critical reservation, on the other hand, must be directed towards over-optimistic utopianism. There is reason to stress that technology in itself will not solve social, economic or political problems. Rather, it seems likely that new technology will help to further complicate already difficult conflicts; the gap between those privileged and able to use new technology and the "techno-pariahs" who are excluded is growing. Technology can be approached through visions and Utopias, but also through concepts such as Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer's "culture industry" (Kulturindustrie) and "instrumental reason" or Herbert Marcuse's "techno culture," causing the ideology of this technology and the changes that it causes to appear in a 46
The definition of the concept in German: "Als 'Kulturtechnik' pflegen wir eine Kunstfertigkeit zu bezeichnen, die omnipräsent, transferfähig und überlebensrelevant ist. [...] Die datenprozessierende [...] Informationstechnologie hat schon heute unsere Gesellschaft in einem derart starken Ausmaße durchdrungen, daß wir sie ohne Einschränkung bereits jetzt als eine Kulturtechnik bezeichnen können. Sie ist nicht nur omnipräsent, sondern hat sich auch zu der Quertechnologie aller anderen Bereiche von Technik, Wissenschaft und Lebenswelt entwickelt, und wer in der technologisch werdenden Welt überleben will, muß sie beherrschen." (Zimmerli 1990: 206)
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much more tragic and negative light. This sort of critical perspective was prominent, for example, in the February 1995 issue of Ästhetik & Kommunikation; a number dedicated to the theme of media, in which strong doubts were expressed towards computer networks, interactive television and the whole of recent discourse on technology. In evaluating the cultural significance of computers and digital technology, the valuable crystallization presented by Bill Nichols (1988: 22) seems particularly accurate: The computer is more than an object; it is also an icon and a metaphor that suggests new ways of thinking about ourselves and our environment, new ways of constructing images of what it means to be human and to live in a humanoid world. Cybernetic systems include an entire array of machines and apparatuses that exhibit computational power. Such systems contain a dynamic, even if limited, quotient of intelligence. Telephone networks, communication satellites, radar systems, programmable laser videodiscs, robots, biogenetically engineered cells, rocket guidance systems, videotex networks - all exhibit a capacity to process information and execute actions. They are all "cybernetic" in that they are self-regulating mechanisms or systems within predefined limits and in relation to predefined tasks. Just as the camera has come to symbolise the entirety of the photographic and cinematic processes, the computer has come to symbolise the entire spectrum of networks, systems and devices that exemplify cybernetic or "automated but intelligent" behaviour.
Nichols believes that we are in the process of shifting from "the age of the camera" to "the age of the computer," in which digitality and the binary logic of microelectronics appear to be the lowest common denominators. On the basis of this quote from Nichols it seems appropriate to ask: What is this "automated but intelligent" behavior based on cybernetic machinery and procedures like? Is it primarily something like what appears on the computer register in the security control booth, or like the "video game war" - Operation Desert Storm - in the early 1990s? Or is it some sort of condensed version of the traditional modernization principles: efficiency, productivity, economy, controllability and transparency? To a great extent my own life at least is already "computerized." A bit nervously I confess that I would be unlikely to get through my daily routines without computers, mobile phones, and the Internet resources. I read and write an ever greater amount of different sorts of semiotic constellations on my computer screen. Furthermore, due to my nomadic lifestyle, the maintenance of my social contacts with colleagues, friends and acquaintances is taken care of primarily via the Internet. I spend many hours a day in the virtual skein of computer networks. In summary: my life is noticeably "mediated," "cybemetized" and "digitalized."47 It is important to understand that I not only write on a computer, but the computer also writes on me!*' My postmodern subject no longer just innocently uses machines, but in fact it 47
Manuel Castells, too, has stressed "the pervasiveness of effects of new technologies. Because information in an integral part of all human activity, all processes of our individual and collective existence are directly shaped (although certainly not determined) by the new technological medium." (Castells 1996: 61) 48 "In short, the medium in which we communicate changes how we organize our thoughts. We program computers, but the computers also program us." (Stoll 1996: 46) "The computer is a remarkably different kind of tool - one which can turn kids into reactive zombies, adults into frustrated bumblers. [...] Simply by turning to a computer when confronted with a problem, you limit your ability to recognize other solutions. When the only tool you know is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. / Which is the tool: the computer or the user?" (ibid.: 45)
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has become a part of the automated - and on top of everything - technically unreliable process, breaking out of which seems harder every day. Also worth considering would be the question of the interrelationship of military and civilian technology. For instance, the historical origin of the Internet has to do with the military research of the 1960s (Castells 1996: 35ff.). Knowing this, how seriously can we take the Worldwatch Institute's view of computer networks as the promoters of world peace and global thinking (cf. Young 1994)?4' Howard Rheingold, for example, believes that, technology needs to be critically examined. Although the visible portions and applications of some technology appear to have good intentions, they are still part of a wider system which produces a great deal of destruction. We must examine that destructive technology in particular, and seek ways to correct it. If we don't act rationally now we will come to the world in which people blame technology for the destruction that it brings. In this increasingly polarized world there are those who believe in technology and those who don't. (Rheingold 1992: 105-106; translation mine)
Carey and Quirk have tried to sketch out a way of intellectual relationship to new media and information technologies. As we are demythologizing the rhetoric of the electronic sublime, these scholars believe we can pay attention to central social and societal questions. Instead of "the book versus the computer" style naive oppositions, we should be talking about and deciding on what is most important: cultural values and goals supporting them. In this article - summa summarum - 1 have concentrated on the rhetoric of the electronic sublime and the critical evaluation thereof. In order to avoid useless simplification, it must be stated in closing that the applications of new media and information technology (e.g., hypermedia, Internet, virtual reality) also offer us many valuable tools. Moreover, with the help of new technology - in principle, at least - it is possible to make working routines more efficient, solve problems concerning communication and, perhaps even, promote well-being and improve the general standard of living. But still, "Life in the real world is far more interesting, far more important, far richer, than anything you'll ever find on a computer screen" (Stoll 1996: 13).S0 We also know that technology is Janus-faced: it has a potential for positive and negative implications. I have come to the conclusion that the key question concerning the problems and possibilities of technology was best formulated by Lewis Mumford 49
"[...] it was during the Second World War, and in its aftermath, that major technological breakthroughs in electronics took place: the first programmable computer, and the transistor, source of microelectronics, the true core of the Information Technology Revolution in the twentieth century. Yet I contend that only in the 1970s did new information technologies diffuse widely, accelerating their synergistic development and converging into a new paradigm." (Castells 1996: 41) / "Computers were also conceived from the mother of all technologies that was the Second World War, but they were only born in 1946 in Philadelphia, if we except the warrelated tools of the 1943 British Colossus applied to deciphering enemy codes, and the German Z-3 reportedly produced in 1941 to help aircraft calculations." (ibid.: 43) 50 Stoll (1996: 10) has aptly written: "Some without a modem worry that they're missing an important part of modern living. Yet few aspects of daily life require computers, digital networks, or massive connectivity. They're irrelevant to cooking, driving, visiting, negotiating, eating, hiking, dancing, and gossiping. You don't need a keyboard to bake bread, play touch football, piece a quilt, build a stone wall, recite a poem, or say a prayer."
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already in 1934: "The real question before us lies here: do these instruments further life and enhance its values, or not?" (Mumford 1963: 318) Finally - and in spite of my scepticism - 1 recommend that one should also keep in mind the relevant words of Manuel Castells: The prophetic hype and ideological manipulation characterizing most discourses on the information technology revolution should not mislead us into underestimating its truly fundamental significance. It is [...] at least as major a historical event as was the eighteenthcentuiy Industrial Revolution, inducing a pattern of discontinuity in the material basis of economy, society, and culture. (Castells 1996: 30; italics mine)
6.
References
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KARIKALLIONIEMI
Rock Discourse, Mass Mediations and Cultural Identity The Imaginary England of Pop-Poet Stephen Patrick Morrissey 1.
Introduction
Pop music is centered around "images," "imaginary worlds" and "imagining." It has a symbolic power to create imaginary worlds by reinventing reality. Through mass mediations this "imagining" discloses conspicuous characteristics of different identities bound up in different notions of nationhood. But it can be argued that music has no meaning at all, because music can be nonreferential. Language and words always embody meanings, music expresses feelings or our capacity to feel. Therefore "the meaning of music" could be only understood as a discursive construct in a lingual practice, in which "the auteur," his or her reviewers, critics and audiences construct its meaning. That might be the reason why the place of music as sound in a text-based culture is problematic and sometimes undervalued because of the cultural hierarchy concerning different texts: literary, visual and aural. These interpretations of what music means in a culture and how culture could be seen in music are often linked with the discussions on nationhood - real, mythical or "imagined" - in popular music. Different notions of it have been emerging, defined, understood and most profoundly, imagined by writers, reviewers, journalists and scholars. Rock's impressionistic critical terms have been trying to describe the most profound feelings of rock by its recordings, performances and "actings" in the certain cultural context. Thus, bringing together two of the most pervasive cultural presences of the twentieth century, music and mass mediations, I link these here with a study of nation and identity. It could be argued that these are emerging with increasing force as central to a post-Soviet (and so-called postmodern) age of neo-nationalisms, as decisive sites for the negotiations between the local and the global. The focus on Englishness as a model for the analysis of the construction of national identity through pop music is also extremely topical at the moment. England is presently debating energetically its identity in relation to Europe, and its postwar history provides a particularly complex and ambiguous terrain for the discussion. While the country has politically contracted from imperial centre to European marginality, it has at the same time remained since the 1960s one of the significant centres of global pop music. This competing dynamic confers a constructive tension on "Englishness" for purposes of this investigation. There is also a particular interest in the phenomenon of "Englishness" being seen from the outside. "Englishness" is a conscious and contrived spectacle, but
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usually its privileged viewer is England itself or at least an Anglophone. It must be noted that there is also a very charged appropriateness at this moment in Europe's history, for a "foreigner" (in terms of the Anglo/US axis of cultural studies), to construct Englishness as "other." Similar reversals are emerging in other parts of the world, including the Pacific and Asia (particularly in literature and film). Therefore, tracking down notions of "Englishness" is not a case of finding a "defining essence" of it but one fraught by deep conflicts and cultural/political passions. "Imagining England" means that if "Englishness" is a constitutive idea in the same way, especially in terms of popular music, as different ethnicities, identities and nationalities are "imagined" in different ways, then there should be alternative cultural discourses for this "constituency of Englishness."1 I will contemplate this notion of "alternative Englishness" in this article in terms of pop music media and "imaginary nationhood." I will also deal with the question of who and how defines this alternative notion. In the end I will give an example of this kind of construction seen through texts dealing with the complicated nature of British pop-star Morrissey's "pop-Englishness."
2.
Identity, Nationhood and "Quotidian Rhythms of Media Output"
Identity, ethnicity and nationhood and their imagined or fictionalized forms in popular culture are closely linked to the issues of modernism. There is a focus in the issue of postmodernism which is to see a certain tension between the idea of identity as a fixed thing and the idea of identity as a process or mobilized reconstruction and deconstruction.2 That tension produces a kind of "thin blue line" where pop cultural identities are negotiated in the constant "eye of the storm of the media."3 Zygmunt Bauman and Stuart Hall have tried to distinguish different concepts of identity in terms of history. One of the most common issues in the debate concerning identity is whether or not there is anything peculiarly modern about the problem of identity. For Bauman the idea of identity is a "problem" from its birth - it
1
There is a familiar popular iconography of an imaginary "America" - cinema, B-feature world of detective and science fiction stories, Disney, Tom and Jerry cartoons, television serials and the sounds and imagery of rock'n'roll and pop music (see Chambers 1986: 98). If the mythical images of traditional Englishness are something like warm beer, ladies cycling to village church, empire, cricket, etc., what then could be the iconography of pop-Englishness? Beatles, indieguitar-groups, Union Jack jackets, Swinging London, postcard-punks, disco-divas, genderbending, sing-a-long pub-songs, rastas, etc.? 2 The deconstruction has been conducted within a variety of disciplinary areas, all of them, in one way or another critical of the notion of an integral, originary and unified identity. See Hall 1996: 1-17. If identity is mobile, a process not a thing, a becoming not a being, then our experience of music - of music making and music listening - is best understood as an experience of this selfin-process. See Frith 1996: 109. ' Typical of this is the question of identity and nationhood-making - and manipulation of media: whether these are an effect of cultural apparatuses of discourse or their origin, whether they express themselves through culture or through these apparatuses and whether what is produced is a single consciousness or (hierarchically organised) values, dispositions and differences. Morley 1992: 66-67.
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was born as a problem about which one needs to do something. Bauman has sketched his famous "figures of identity," from the pilgrim to the tourist, where the figure of the pilgrim is as old as Christianity, gaining some truth from elsewhere; for him (her) the "true" place is always some distance, some time away.4 The pilgrim's successors are the stroller (flaneur), who had all the pleasures of modern life without the torments attached, the vagabond with "his" apparent freedom to move and so to escape the net of hitherto locally based control, the tourist, like the vagabond, on the move, but moving from the margins to the centre, and the player, for whom nothing is fully predictable or controllable.5 For Hall there are three concepts of identity: enlightenment, sociological and postmodern.6 The Enlightenment concept rested on notions of there being an essential core to identity which was born with the individual and unfolded through his or her life. The sociological concept argued that a coherent identity is formed in relations with others and thus develops and changes over time. The postmodern subject is thought to have no fixed or essential identity. In postmodern societies identities have become "dislocated."7 How much of this "dislocation" has really happened is another problem, but certainly negotiations between modern and postmodern, maybe even premodem, constitutions of identities form the core of media-based cultural activity. During the 1990s there have been signs that dislocation could be seen as "relocation," meaning that certain forms of locality, also concerning popular culture, have been becoming stronger. Therefore the new locality-based identification could mean new articulations of the postmodern condition. So, far from identity disappearing in contemporary society, it is rather reconstructed and redefined. Identity today becomes a freely chosen game, a theatrical presentation of the self. The problem of personal identity arises from play-acting and the adoption of artificial voices; the origins of distinct personalities, in acts of personation and impersonation.' The canvas and the catwalk for these presentations are the media. Media culture provides a powerful source for these new identities which are appropriated and re/ deconstructed by both individuals and groups who are able to participate in imagined communities through cultural style and consumption. * The figure of the pilgrim is not a modern invention; it is as old as Christianity. But modernity gave it a new prominence and a seminally novel twist. For Hall, identity is exclusively the concept of modern, industrialized and urban society. Bauman 1996: 18-20. s Ibid.: 26-32. * Equivalent to this, in some way, is the idea of pre-modem, modem and postmodern identities. See Hall 1992: 273-325. 7 For Hall, the year of 1989 as the popular-democratic revolution in Eastern Europe, meant that this pluralisation of identity and decentering of subjectivity constituted a creative displacement in which the old fixities and certainties were shattered by what Hall called "a new dynamic culture across the globe." For Hall, post-imperial diasporas manifested themselves in "world music," the globalised popular culture of the young. Not surprisingly, Hall linked the physical and imaginary migrations of people to the broader dynamics of post-Fordism and postmodern culture. SeeMcGuigan 1992: 226-228. « See Kellner 1993: 141-143, 174-175; Frith 1996: 121-122.
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If the idea of identity is "imagined," based on creative forces of the cultural units, memories, symbols, myths, traditions, values and the artefacts which express them, or Bauman's "figures" which are embodiments of them, then the idea of a community is imagined too. Benedict Anderson's concept of nation as an "imagined community" is much used as a reference point when talking about the notion of nation in the age of postmodern culture. In Anderson's concept "nation" refers not to the external world of "facts" but to a symbolic referent - "an imagined community." It is maintained by a wide variety of discursive institutions, ranging from national literatures and languages to national curricula in education. Anderson links the rise of nationalism with a particular form of technology, that of the capitalist printing press. For Anderson, the novel and the newspaper make it possible to think a nation, to create an "imagined nationhood."9 Along with these concepts, Anderson only briefly refers to photography and autobiographies. Therefore his analysis of "imagined communities" has also been critisized mainly for not appreciating the role of the modern media in the reproduction and formation of identities, especially national ones in the age of (postmodern culture. Therefore it has, however, rarely been analysed in terms of popular culture although popular music culture is full of examples of these imagined identities and communities from different fan cultures to an "imagined community of housewives entertained by the male radio dj" and to an "imagined community of the dance nation," for example. There are of course national inflections in all areas of the economic, political, cultural and discursive life, but certain institutions play a more prominent and routine role in creating and sustaining an evolving referent for the concept and its subjects. Among the more important of these are the media. The sense of community is built and sustained by the quotidian rhythms of print and electronic media output, along with periodic national ceremonies which are themselves communicated through the media. With increased migration and mobility, these symbolic markers of a nation can be the only common "heritage" it has. Therefore the role of popular culture and its ability through psychic processes to create an infinite output of imaginary discourses plays also a major role in national identity formation. Postmodernism argued that current media, through economic and cultural transnationalisation, could erode such identities, but conversely current globalisation and European integration have been starting to release suppressed ethnic, smaller national, regional and local identities which are finding out how to display their "ethnic flavour" in the current media culture. But these media constructions of identities in terms of national and ethnicity have their problematic side, too. If we turn to "the imagined self" in experiencing identity and pop music in broad terms, we may be able to relate social and cultural identities, to finger social and cultural "theft." The notion of "the other" in national and ethnic identities becomes problematic. It is arguable that this kind of cultural transformation does not subvert all sociological assumptions about cultural position and cultural feeling. And this seems an even more obvious question about
»Anderson 1994: passim, esp. 30, 204.
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popular music whose dominant forms in all contemporary societies have originated at the social margins - among the poor, the migrant, the rootless, the "queer."10 English scholar Dick Hebdige looked for his roots and evaluated "himself' through this concept in his book about Caribbean-based dance cultures: And where - in the end - are my roots? I'm a white Englishman (whatever that is). I have no idea where my family came from originally - the line gets wavy just two generations back. Someone just told me that the name Hebdige comes from "the Baltic plains" and that's it. If I have any roots at all, then they have been made in my own life-time, in my own life. It's always been a case of cut'n'mix. What else is there? Morris dancing? Baltic sea shanties? But what is clear as daylight in Britain at the moment is that the chickens are coming home to roost. The British Empire has folded in upon itself. And as the pressure in the cities has mounted, the old national culture and national identity have started cracking at the seams. More and more people are growing up feeling, to use Colin Mclnnes' phrase "english half-english" [actually, it is "England, half English," writer's comment].There is an army of in-betweens and neither-nors out there who feel they belong to no given community. They realise that any community they might belong to in the future will have to be made by them or it won't get made at all. Perhaps there is another nation being formed for the future beyond the boundaries of race. If that nation can't yet be visualised, then it can perhaps be heard in the rhythms of the airwaves, in the beat that binds together histories, cultures, new identities. The future is as blurred and as uncertain as the roots. It is as shapeless and as colourless as music itself."
It almost seems like Hebdige is imagining himself from the position of "the other" being at the same time white academic English male. People do not usually refer to "ethnic majorities" associated with national groupings and identities. Therefore ethnicity is "an arguable and murky intellectual term" defined by the political and cultural centres and understood in terms of construction, maintenance and negotiation of boundaries. So, there has not never been self-defining idea of "ethnic quality" of English in England, because Britain has never really tried to define itself ethnically, although Churchill was proudly boasting about a "mongrel race" during the World War II.12 The national popular centred on some mythical constitution rooted in the yeoman common sense of England. This must be partly because of the too wide historical reasons to be mentioned here concerning Britain as a State, not a nation, the British Empire - but mainly because "Englishness" has not been defined by the notions of ethnicity but by English history and the curriculum of English literary tradition.13 ό Frith 1996: 121-122. This leads to the problematic situation and notion of national or nation in popular music. How could "the other" be included, for example, to the notions of Englishness in Brit-pop? » Hebdige 1987: 157-158. '2 On the other hand, the assertion that ethnicity has played no part in forming Englishness overlooks mythological narratives of nation and ethnicity generated in the face of successive invasions by, for example, Romans, Picts, Saxons and Normans. See also Storry & Childs 1997: 8, 45-47; Richards 1997a, 1997b: 3-27. 13 The peculiarity of British national identification is that it is a hybrid of premodern/modern entity. Rather than the "people," as in France, or the more ethnic Volk, Britain tended to refer to "the Constitution." This was not a covenant with the People as in France - it was more like a natural entity, unwritten, based on common law, common sense as opposed to the legalistic imperium of Roman Law. It became a mythical symbol of nationhood - especially in the revolutionary/Napoleonic period when the rights of Englishmen were opposed, rooted in organic society, against the abstract rational Rights of Man. See Thompson 1978: 35-91.
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The Welsh, Scots or Irish are not described as "ethnic minorities" in the British Isles, either.14 Maybe that is because they have played so important part in the process of rural myth-making in Britain but "Celtic" music or "Irish traditional" music have resonances as a romantic "other" in binary oppositions such as European periphery vs. centre and Celt vs. Anglo-Saxon.15 Groups which differ from the nation state, originally located abroad and not a part of the ruling elite, are then referred to as ethnic minorities. Therefore it refers basically to the immigrant groups of Britain, mainly Pakistani, Indians, West Indian and Chinese. Iain Chambers has said that the idea that ethnicity does not simply belong to the "other," but is also part of being white. The unquestioned understandings of nation, race and ethnicity, both black and white, are displaced and opened up for questioning: just what does it mean to be "black," "white," "British," or even "European," today?16
The notion of ethnic being at the same time "white" and the "other" is also familiar from Dick Hebdige's Subculture (see 1983). The notion of "the authenticity of black ethnicity" becomes problematic in punk-culture's "white ethnicity," which on the other hand centred, however iconoclastically, on the traditional notions of Britishness (the Queen, the Union Jack, etc.) and on the other hand denied its place, compared with the West Indian styles which had provided the basic models for it.17 "Imagining the other" is the mutual experience, not something exclusively reserved to "ethnic majority," but it reveals, after all, how the term "Englishness" seems to be too narrow to define the socio-geographical reality of modern Britain. In terms of multiculturalism "Britishness" could be then reworked to take account of all settled minorities as ethnic minorities in Britain: Welsh, Scottish, Irish, Asian, African, Caribbean, Chinese, Middle Eastern, etc., and instead of "British Cultural Identities" we should talk about "Cultural Identities in Britain." Even if Britishness could be seen more suitable in defining modern English popular music, it has some illogicality built in it. There is a certain conflation of 14
There is also in use common way to divide place and environment in Britain into seven sections using the so-called "the four nations" metaphor when talking about "ethnicities of Britain": nation or "four nations" (Great Britain meaning United Kingdom and comprising England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland), country (exemplified in various images and emblems, like "the English Rose"), region (exemplifying regional character, like Geordie from Yorkshire), county (like Sussex or Kent), city (referring to a title of dignity conferred on towns of religious, commercial or industrial importance by statute, royal charter or tradition, in this case, for example, Coventry), town and village. Stony & Childs 1997: 45-82. Britannia is also important cultural and symbolic figure, a personification of noble queen with imperial connotations originating from the Roman history. Actually, there are six different names illustrating British identity: England, Britain, Great Britain, the British Isles, the United Kingdom and, in very exalted moments, Albion. The name Albion, or Albany, may have been the Celtic name for Britain, but the term itself probably comes from the imposing white cliffs of Dover, facing France, and thus gets associated with English aspirations and high sentiment, (ibid.: 1922.) That kind of mythical notion of nationhood also emerges in Michael Bracewell's England is Mine: Pop Life in Albion from Wilde to Go Idie (1997), in which writer sets himself to consider the mysterious nature of the English dream, the dream of mythical rural bliss of Arcadia, is See Stokes 1994: 6-9. i« Chambers 1994: 39. " Hebdige 1983: 42-43, 64-65.
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Britishness and Englishness in pop which Martin Cloonan has pinpointed.18 When pop is discussed there is often a confusion of England with Britain. For example, Rolling Stones, who are English, are apparently capable of representing both, but, the Scottish band Runrig could represent Scotland, but not Britain. It seems that only English bands get the opportunity to represent both their own country and the larger entity in which it is located." This non-too-subtle form of exclusion has its parallels in other domains such as skin colour, too. Another crucial reference point for Englishness in the history of British pop is, therefore, the "Janus face"20 of modernisation and industrialisation of English culture. It is a kind of incorporation both nostalgia and modernization sentiment which could also be seen in the different eras of British popular music. It is useful to refer to this as the "Imaginary Englishness" of the pop music world. This ambivalent attitude to modernisation has led some notions of "Englishness" to adopt a conception of Englishness that virtually excluded industrialism. Martin Cloonan has written that Englishness in pop seems to be anathema to Anderson's idea that industrialisation with the emergence of technology made it possible to think the nation.21
Thus he suggests that this is because pop-Englishness is often technophobic meaning that at the time when (dance) music, which is bound up in contemporary, electronic technology in its use of sampling, came to dominance, the stirrings of the current preoccupation with Englishness in pop arouse. This suspicion of material and technological development and this symbolic exclusion of industrialism created during the 19th century a powerful mythology of "the English way of life" - rustic imagery encapsulated in the saying "England is the country" put against "those satanic mills of Industrialism." This countryside of the mind was everything industrial society was not - ancient, slow-moving, stable, cozy and "spiritual." The main ambivalence arose from the question: Was England to be the Workshop of the World or a Green and Pleasant Land?22 For Wiener there are several cultural and historical reasons for the creation of this imagery which are to be found in the distinctive pattern of the 19th century British history. The 19th century Britain was a pioneer of modernization. Yet, the path it took to modernity was peculiar to it. The transition was marked by a comfortably peaceful gradualism, in which society was transformed with a minimum of violence (when compared to the turbulence and revolutions in the continent).23 18
Cloonan 1995: 13-14. There are, of course, interesting exceptions to this. For example, the Irish band U2 built its American reputation and world-wide success in the 1980s through its overtly mediated "Irishness" - catholicism, down-to-earth-mysticism and political issues concerning Ireland. These were transformed in the 1990s to a kind of postmodern play with superstardom which is, I think, first associated to British rock culture and after that, if at all, to any notion of Irishness. 20 Wiener 1981: 3^*0. 2 > Cloonan 1995: 18-19. 22 Wiener 1981: 5-7. The reference of "satanic mills" from William Blake's "Jerusalem" is problematic because he was not specifically talking about industry, though the telling of the image has arosen from it. 23 This process he calls as "the revolution that never was." Wiener 1981:7-10. 19
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The Victorian public school system created a reformed elite through the idea of the shaping of a gentleman, who assimilated the aristocratic values of older feudal establishment into his world.24 Hence the creation of the new national self-image dressed in the trappings of an older tradition, denying the rise of industry by creating the "two nations" stereotype of England with its North-South metaphors and parochial obsession with locality. According to Wiener's account, provincialism in the 20th century Britain has not been simply a matter of remoteness from the capital city, as in France. It has been much more a question of remoteness from one approved style of life. Working-class and lower middle-class suburbs might be provincial, whereas much of the countryside is not. Rural villages, or ancient cathedral towns that happen to be far from London, are not provincial. Things that are rural or ancient are at the very heart of southern English snobberies, even if they are to be found in the North.25 In other words, this is a representative example of "imaginary geography" situated in the conception of English provincialism, leading to those other "imaginary" conceptions of England and its nationhood.
3.
Writing about Pop-life in Albion Who cares what the artist intended? Stuff is out in the world and you and I get to reshape it. - Greil Marcus26
I personally think that the cultural historical research of popular music, or of popular culture, whatever its academic ambitions or aspirations, is always personal, and bound up with the time when it is done. This goes along with what some people would call "cultural historical imagination" or "sociological imagination." During the mid-1990s it has somehow begun to seem that "old" divisions between different disciplines and their approaches are starting to crack up again, and the role of a researcher or a "theorizer," especially in the studies on popular culture, is going to be re-appropriated, not this time from the point of view of a discipline, but from the point of view of a researcher." This comes near the notion of rock's "personal" discourse which deals with the identity construction of a journalist, a star or a fan. This construction could also be
2" Ibid.: 12-20. 2' Ibid.: 41-45. * Marcus 1997. 27 David Rowe writes how a conspicous intellectual current is running through fin de siecle social science, which is preoccupied with the relationship between the theorist and the theorized, encouraging, as much the former as the latter, to tell their own stories about personally significant popular cultural styles, texts and identities: "The sociological literature is now liberally peppered with self-reflexive examinations of what is variously termed identity, emotion, affectivity, auto/ biography, subjectivity, selfhood, person formation, the somatic and the sublime. A postmodern concern - either explicit or "under influence" - with the proliferation of self-identities and with the repudiation of the rationalist grand narratives of modernist social theory is both symptom and cause of a re-evaluation of social life in its personal, political and academic domains." (Rowe 1995: 1)
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understood from a point of view of a researcher in terms of not trying to suppress the personal voice of a subject but to evaluate it as a crucial part of the research process. So, what does this have to do with pop music and texts dealing with it? The kind of "mythologising," which I tried to approach through the notions of identity, ethnicity and nation, and which is bound up with the personal voices of "the scientifical imagination," is especially familiar in the canons and texts concerning popular music. One reason for this is mainly the tradition in mass culture debates of locating "an idealised golden age" in the past, thus valorising it and anathematising the present. But these romantic conceptions are mainly showing us what has been lost of rupture,28 not how this past is recreated in the present. There are traditional and unconventional ways how this mythology has been adopted, recreated and filtered through rock culture. A notable example of this is William Blake's poem "Jerusalem," made as a hymn by Hubert Parry, and traditionally sung at the end of a meeting by members of the Women's Institute and then embedded in the national memory bank.2' Because of the interest towards William Blake's counter-cultural mysticism in the rock culture the hymn has been recorded numerous times by different pop stars with different emphases to its romantic discourses. For Paul Jones in the 1960s it was an anti-establishment and anti-national song with an added irony; for Emerson, Lake & Palmer in the early 1970s a pompous piece of neo-classical rock hymn; for The Fall and Billy Bragg it was a visionary left-wing anthem; and for dance-deconstrunction-act The KLF an anti-Thatcherist protest, a reminder "that the North will rise again."30 Although filtered through rock music this kind of mythologising has been rare in the British rock writing. Thus Simon Frith has concluded that American rock-writers are mythologists: they comb music for symbolic significance, and their symbols are derived from a sweep through American culture in general. These rock critics write (and are read) as American culture critics. British rock writers, by contrast are still pop fans, their writing is a matter of documentation. 31
A good example of this mythologising is Greil Marcus, and notably his book The Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock'n 'Roll Music (see 1990). Marcus writes that [w]hat I bring to this book, at any rate, is no attempt at synthesis, but a recognition of unities in the American imagination that already exist. They are natural unities, I think, but elusive; I learned, in the last two years, that simply because of those unities, the resonance of the best American images is profoundly deep and impossibly broad. [...] Well, then, this is a book about rock'n'roll - some of it - and America: It is not a history, or a purely musical analysis, or a set of personality profiles. It is an attempt to broaden the context in which the music is heard; to 2» See, for example, Strinati 1995: 42-45. » R o o m 1990: 187. 30 The Style Council even made "Jerusalem" into a film in which "a black Queen Elizabeth stands at the village cross reciting the hymn 'Jerusalem' as The Style Council drive by on scooters, dressed in white Levi suits, primary colours and the inevitable loafers, embarking on a Lambretta Odyssey through England's green and pleasant land." (Cosgrove 1987) ί Frith 1984: 10. Stuart Bailie's (1991) notion - "[m]ost of the Brit music press is a mixture of Marcus, Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe and the ironic, domestic punning school" - does not quite fit into this conception.
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deal with rock'n'roll not as youth culture, or counterculture, but simply as American culture. Cultural history is never a straight line; along with the artists we care about we fill in the gaps ourselves. When we do, we reclaim, rework, or invent America, or a piece of it, all over again.32 Marcus is not a historian but his books deploy notions that are very familiar to the cultural historian. The genre which he has initially defined has also been called as a "secret history o f popular music" referring to his another masterpiece linking punk rock to avant-garde traditions of the 20th century." "The method of his madness" is explained like this: Moments which passed out of consciousness as though they had never been, but in their instants contained the whole of life are the shards and microdots and atomised particles for clues as to what might have caused the punk-explosion. That such moments could cease to be merely marginal and trivial, could in fact be brought to occupy a central place in everyday life - or in the basic beliefs of the Situationist International - "the foreign country where everyone actually lives." "Real mysteries cannot be solved," Marcus writes, "but they can be turned into better mysteries."34 This links Marcus' approach very close to the primal nature o f rock discourses, originating themselves from the oral traditions and oral histories o f the "people": The oral history movement was bom out of a conviction that there was a people's history to be discovered outside the highly documented political and economic histories of governments and official institutions. And, as the title of a pioneering piece ofjazz research - Hear Me Talking To Ya -indicates, popular music scholarship began as a search for oral testimony from musicians and those associated with them.39 Although Marcus' primary inspiration has been the American rock'n'roll revolution in the 50s and in the 60s - American political thought and American literature, not the oral history tradition - he belongs relatively unproblematically to a kind of discourse o f modernist literary tradition. In this democratic or counter-cultural ideologies were drawn from the "frontier-like" mythological world o f great American writers - Mark Twain, Walt Whitman, Henry Thoreu - and percolated through the images o f 1960s and early 1970s rock culture, thus opening the connection to the earlier, non-literate forms of cultural expression. 36 " Marcus 1990: xvii, 4. 33 Marcus (1989:33) takes in this book awkward, arbitrary, absurd, silly and gradually funny turns in a kind of stream-of-consciousness style explaining the secret history of this century. Here is an example: "Immediately after the last show of the Sex Pistols' only American tour, Johnny Rotten reclaimed his given name, John Lydon. In May of 1534 John of Leyden, a Dutch heretic also known as Jan Bockelson, was proclaimed king of the German town of Münster, the New Jerusalem - he was, thus, proclaimed king of the whole world." In the more traditional context that kind of writing could also be seen as what Marc Ferro has called as a contrahistory: Memory is an unanalytical area of human behaviour. It contains historical facts as mythologies, images, "lost Utopias," etc. That is why we must see ourselves as reflected in a broken mirror, where institutional and contra-histories, collective and private memories are mixed together. See Ferro 1988: passim. 34 Burn 1989. 35 Laing 1997. 3' Big influences on Ute Mystery Train were also two left-wing books on literary criticism: D. H. Lawrence's Studies in Classic American Literature and Leslie Fielder's Love and Death in the American Novel (see Bailie 1991). Also Marcus's newest book Invisible Republic-A Study of Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes (1997) continues this idea to illuminate American questions through music.
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In Mystery Train he articulates the problems of dealing with the images of "national" rock culture and its mythical landscapes. The preference of English writers for the "ethnographic" approach could help to explain why there has been little myth-making regarding the function of pop and Englishness, but maybe because of the current cultural atmosphere and political devolution in Britain this kind of will start to appear. One of the works getting close to the idea of pop-Englishness has been Jon Savage's England's Dreaming (1991), but walking in Marcus's footsteps is the novelist and critic Michael Bracewell, who has published his work, England is Mine: Pop Life in Albion from Wilde to Goldie (1997). In this book he set himself to consider the mysterious nature of the English dream, the dream of Arcadia, as opposed to the American one. While referring in the fin-de-siecle tone of his style to numerous literary and filmic influences of Arcadia he sets himself on the journey looking for the mysterious nature of the English dream, but not the Welsh or Scottish one: Arcady, in this particular theology of Englishness, is a quasimystical, historically vague notion of Ye Olde England as a benign rural democracy; it runs parallel but invisible to the English countryside, usually declaring itself at moments of crisis, emotional rapture or personal revelation. [...] There is a need within the psyche of Englishness to look back to an idealized past (think of the cult of domestic Edwardiana, pot pourri and cottage industry that flourishes in the marketing of "Englishness" in the 1990s), and Arcady, as the mother and father of our prelapsarian innocence, is recalled with the sentimental nostalgia of infantilism: the adult reflex that yearns in crisis to re-create the remembered comfort and security of childhood."
Bracewell's literate prose-style might alienate readers and make the notion of popEnglishness too "cultured." Steven Wells reviewed it by saying: The language is so arch, the arguments so tediously thin and the examples used so numerous and seemingly arbitrary, that it makes you think why somebody writes about the late-20th Century culture in the language of the 19th. TTiis book is twee, overwritten, top-down, Home Countiescentric, public school, academic masturbation which will therefore become compulsory reading on Cultural Studies courses throughout the UK and will thus be a useful tool in the further production of gibberish-spouting bores who know absolutely fuck all about "pop."3'
Although the literary style of Bracewell is far a way from the impulsive and argybargy rant of Wells, the more interesting problem here is how to connect the exclusively high cultural notion of England as Arcadia to popular music identities without sounding pretentious and without alienating the old Steven Wells school of punk-cognoscenti. The literate style of England Is Mine is an example showing clearly that rock culture and national ("literal") tradition are not as easy bedfellows in Britain as in America, mainly because of different articulations of class, tradition and national myths, which are much more nuanced in England than in America. The another question is do we need that kind of canonisations of pop music which relate their starting points to the elite culture.
J' Bracewell 1997: 4-5. 3» See Wells 1997:31.
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Although images of nation in relation to Englishness are constantly in extremely dynamic flux, there are certain recurring patterns which emerge more clearly from and within national pop music and cinema than in "the myths of high culture."3' Mark Sinker attempted to encapsulate England in his article "Look Back in Anguish," dealing with the notion of "England as garden," or "England as network of swinging and decaying cities" in the context of British pop: Film and its handmaiden pop have produced the essential images reflecting on the changing face of Albion as recorded on vinyl, video and film. Our view of England in die post war years, is deeply caught up in filmic memory, a more or less detailed inaccuracy of nostalgia that pop culture - especially between '57 and '67 - played a crucial role in forming and that popular culture in the ten years from '77 to '87 will (in retrospect) be seen to have played a central role in revising, correcting and redeploying that memory.40
Textual, aural and visual images together create the contemporary basis for such imaginings in pop. It is both rupturing the barriers between regions and nations, races and genders, "high" and "low" and the lived experiences and the myths thus (re)defining and apparently also reinforcing them. Imaginary processes work both ways. Because of the non-referentialness of music and the emphasis towards rock's impressionistic critical terms which try to describe the most profound feelings of rock by its recordings, performances and "actings" in the certain cultural context, it is difficult to build the bridge between the literate/academic forms of rock writing and the most impulsive, oral ones: Take Simon Reynolds' "New Pop and its Aftermath." It's a wank, degree-level trainspotting, a tedious comparison between Simon's post-modernist popculttheory penis and that of his peers. A bit more time spent reading comics, attending gigs and taking drugs, and a bit less time spent consuming its own shit would do popculttheory a galaxy of good.41
There is an overtly explicit antagonism against the academic rock writing and the tones which are more implicit in their distaste of collecting the material thus revealing the credibility of rock journalism based on the vague notions of authenticity which are as mystical and undistinguishable as Arcadian fields of mythical nationhoods: Journalism isn't written for books. At least it shouldn't be, and the column composed with one eye on eventual compilation is a stilted, false thing which history invariably finds less interesting than the impassioned dispatch.42
"Reviewer's got to do what reviewer's got to do" but for an academic rock writer it is not that simple. Writing and reading have been traditionally seen from the point of view of the intellectual practices of a patriarchal academic world, compared to "feeling" and listening to music as unintellectual practice. Academic rigour requires that the gender politics of rock discourse cannot be ignored, neither in the
3» See, for example, Chambers 1986: 79-94. « Sinker 1988. *' Wells 1990. a Shaar-Murray 1991: viii.
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"personal level"43 nor in the higher canon of the so called cultural commentary. But both take place under the pillars of academia. In the hectic editing rooms, however, mainly one gender rules: It's men... mostly... from a certain kind of class background - on the whole, lower-middle class to middle class - but they seem to come from a certain hinterland in British culture which is very unstable and rootless. There's a certain religious fervour about it. I'm sure that people who are rock critics, if they'd been bom in the Middle Ages, would have become monks or priests, and have been fervently discussing all those archaic things like how many angels you can get on the head of a pin.44
For Simon Frith "popular music is a solution, a ritualized resistance, not to the problems of being young and poor and proletarian but to the problems of being an intellectual."45 The paradox is that in making pop music a site for the play of their fantasies and anxieties, intellectuals have enriched this site for everyone else too. It is expressed in pop music studies as a fond look back at adolescence but suggesting more resonantly the deep desire of intellectuals not to be intellectual. This desire makes it explicit through fandom. If the basis of writing is fandom what are then the differences between texts provided by journalism and those by scholarship. For Simon Reynolds rock discourse has, from its inception, been host to a renegade tradition. What rock discourses attempt to do is to transform the heterogeneous dissensions and desires thrown up in periods of chaotic creativity into a unity of aspiration. The rock discourse has always functioned by the fixing of the chaotic and inchoate elements in music, and their articulation in a lasting scheme of value. But as we all know in our hearts, the most exhilarating moment is that gap when an old musical order is disestablished but nothing stable has yet taken its place.46 Lester Bangs, one of the most influential rock writers of that renegade tradition, has said that "we listen to rock music to hear passion expressed."47 Bangs, and his British counterpart, Nik Cohn, were believers in noise and uncorrupted rock'n'roll and tried to express that in their works. Bangs and Cohn tried not so much to be critics as novelists who were trying to capture the hilarious bliss of rock through the written word. Roland Barthes has explained this contradictory between "feeling passion" and "analyzing it." For him the reward of belonging to a culture was plaisir. the satisfaction and secure enjoyment of identity through time. "Plaisir" he saw as the opposite ofjouissance\ bliss, convulsive ecstasy, a "little death" of the individual and of meaning.48 43
Most of the women working in the popular music media tend to be in the publications which have a higher female readership like Smash Hits or general teenage magazines like Just 17 and 19 which treat music in a less analytical and more anecdotal manner, and are more concerned with fashion, health and social relationships. See Negus 1992: 118. «Reynolds 1990: 17. «Frith 1992: 179, 182. " Reynolds 1990: 9-10. « Bangs 1980: 70. « Barthes 1975: passim, 1990: passim.
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The tricky position of academic or reviewer when trying to force impressions into intellectual/readable form, pushes them beyond their limits, too. That is why Simon Frith wants combine the role of a fan, critic and researcher, or Jon Savage the role of a fan as a critic and as an academic dilettante. This transgressing of categories - a researcher as a critic, a journalist as a novelist, a critic as a media personality - could help to call for more circumspection in adducing to build the bridges between these texts as the evidences of "alternative histories."
4.
"Luddite Labour Rock " and "Lavish Tory Pop " — The Imaginary England of Morrissey I initially gave the impression that I would answer questions on any given subject, regardless of how personal they might be. So people began to probe into the depths of the old soul, as a matter of complete course. Having to go through it several times a day - it's like staring at your own reflection in the mirror for 24 hours in a day, it's quite daunting. It was like constantly being on the psychiatrist's couch, people coming in asking, "Well, how ill are you today, how miserable are you now," like I was making a miraculous recovery from some great illness. - Stephen Morrissey (December 1984)4* The Rolling Stones were the product of expansive times. The Smiths were the product of contracted and beleagured times. The Stones and their time were all about leaving home; The Smiths and our time are about pining for a home. - Simon Reynolds (1990)50 One of his great themes is what it means to be English. Nobody else cares as much as he does about the shyness, the smug xenophobia, the humour, the pride and the capacity for embarrassment that are your birthright when you are English. - Tony Parsons (1993)51
Morrissey as a media celebrity as a pop star as a cultural commentator was and might still be an ideal target for rock journalism. The controversial nature of his star-persona has created huge amount of material from gossip-columns, reader's corners, jamborees of Morrissey ephemera and trivia to interviews, "cultural criticism," endless cultural references and articles concerning fan conventions and fan worship in which "imaginary England of Morrissey and the Smiths" has been a reference point for different writers. And yet not only a reference point - there has been a kind of hidden dialogue52 between Morrissey, his fans and journalists in which the notions of Englishness have been created, tested and (re-)evaluated. Thus Morrissey is the ultimate quote-book star whose oral testimonies might have been the last and great flourishing of a rock era in which "the power of rock interview" mattered. His love-hate relationship with media unequivocally shows how important this kind of stars are for media. "»Robertson 1988: 51. so Reynolds 1990: 29. J' Parsons 1993: 20. 52 Having answered to this Morrissey explained his position: "Q: Do you think it is true that you've used the interview situation in a better way than your peers - for example, to carry on a dialogue with your fans? A: Not necessarily. I'm perfectly aware that this conversation is not just between me and you. There's someone listening at the keyhole, and we both know who it is! But,
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The Smiths were formed in 1983, in an age, which has been several times condemned without much ingenuity by "hip journalists" who see those times as the epitome o f the Thatcherite torturing of the nation: 1983, and pop had never seemed so shallow. The Durans, the Spands and the Kajabloodygoogs dominated the doldrums, as austere and hope-sapping Thatcherism proliferated. It was hardly a golden age for the nation's youth. Premature middle-age was considered chic, the rolled-up suit sleeve and flaunted-Filofax de rigueur, and Phil Collins the epitome of cool. In a flurry of National Health specs, gladioli and hearing aids, Morrisssey's heartfelt, nostalgic paeans to maladjustment, doomed romance and Billy Liar disaffection were catapulted into the nation's collective consciousness.53 Morrissey's anglocentric legacy has many times inspired journalists to evaluate his position in terms o f cultural and national significance. A n anonymous commentator articulated an idea about the eighties British pop in the 1993 Christmas number of Melody Maker. In the article "P.O.P.R.I.P." (s)he wondered what happened in the British 80s pop and how it was revived in many ways during 1993. 54 (S)he continued thinking how line from Adam Ant and Human League to Frankie was just one version of the last decade. This year's reissue on CD of The Smiths' back catalogue served to inform us that the Eighties weren't just about opulent sounds and extravagant gestures. Not only did Morrissey's miserabilism and Marr's guitars herald a Return to Rock after the pop glory days of 1981/2, they effectively replaced the (ironic!) luxury of ABC and Co with a New Ascetism. Mere weeks separated the release of Smiths' "Hand in Glove" and Frankie Goes to Hollywood's "Relax" in 1983 but, in terms of concept and aesthetic, they were worlds apart. So, there's probably a theory to be expounded about "Lavish Tory pop" and "Luddite Labour rock", but not here." But it is the fiercely traditional noise of the Smiths that has survived into the Nineties. Today, their superannuated bass/guitar/drums attack is positively de rigeur, while FGTH's hi-tech bombast seems almost passe. In 1993, we were reminded that the Smiths killed off Frankie, killed off pop.55 Comparing Frankie to the coalminers' strike Simon Frith revealed the hidden "laddish" agenda o f "Lavish Tory Pop": I decided this was the final triumph of the "new pop," the eclipse of content by form. In Britain 1984 turned out to be the year of the coalminers' strike and Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Repeating images: the miners" stolid anger, Frankie's smirking leatherware; juxtaposed stereo types pickets as hooligans, gays lounging promiscuously in the night. FGTH's story was a comforting rags-to-riches story. Frankie themselves were typical graduates of the 1970s post-punk provincial
truthfully, I always get waterlogged by the false intimacy of the interview. It's a bit like appearing on television. It's not that I'd say anything untrue. But you know how artificial interviews are. Q: But, by common consensus, you are the world's best interviewee. A: Oh, you're too kind and I'll bet you a pound you won't print that. But, being self-critical, I come to the conclusion that that's because everyone else is such a walloping buffoon! Given the competition, it's easy to shine... or at least gleam in a reasonably buffed manner. The rock press currently is having to create personalities out of a dull herd of new groups and artists. I'm not fooled." See Maconie 1991:35. 53 Fortnam 1997: 48. 54 This "revival" concentrated on re-issues of the Smiths albums and on remixes of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's hits. It is notable that this piece was written well before the commercial breakthrough of 1990s Brit pop. 55 Melody Maker 25.12.1993-1.1.1994: 50.
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scene (five lads from Liverpool) in which Bowie boys became punks and skins, dyed their hair repeatedly, hung out in the gay clubs with the furtiveness that marks everyone on provincial streets in the small hours."
Although The Smiths created their whole environment as an antithesis to the poshness of early 80s synth duos the title "Luddite Labour Rock" is a bit misleading because the Smiths was not a political group in the sense of overtly political eighties artists, like Billy Bragg, although Morrissey was a former player of Labour Party/Red Wedge gigs.57 Cloonan terms Billy Bragg's articulation of Englishness as "hip big Englishness" which has some distant relationship with Morrissey's infatuation with pre-Beatles British world: Its roots are in the folk left populist troubadour tradition recalling the 1950s British Communist party advocating the fullest development of culture based on national traditions and peculiarities further claiming that Communists were both nationalists and internationalists."
Definitely Morrissey has not got anything to do with "internationalism." These titles which are laden with too much meaning does not seem to work very well in terms of "rock speak." There are other anomalies concerning the concept of "lavish Tory-pop" and "luddite Labour rock." Where would one situate labour white boy soul of Style Council? What was the position of new middle-classness of the 80s, as seen by artists like Nik Kershaw, George Michael and Howard Jones? Was the 1980s version of "classlessness" connecting "laddism" and art-school-situationist tactics in the form of Frankie and thus working as a prescience of the 90s Labourfascinated lad-rock? Another important artist from the eighties, who could be put under "Luddite Labour Rock" label, is the Scot Edwyn Collins, who has attacked vigorously against Brit-pop during the mid-1990s, when journalists have tried to crown him as "the godfather of Brit-pop." "I am not a nationalist, I am an international socialist," he defended himself in an interview in New Musical Express Although in many ways The Smiths were the epitome of pop-Englishness both it, Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Edwyn Collins were the creations of the 1970s post-punk provincial scene, only Frankie not opposing itself vigorously against the whole regiment of pop stars who were favoured in the fashion of "new pop." The Smiths carved their niche with witty and unexpected songs, viewed from a resolutely northern perspective. Morrissey celebrated in his songs celibacy, literature, Northern values, Mancunian regionality and Coronation Street.
»Frith 1990: 172-173. " Morrissey's main political stance has always been like the sensitive and restraint crusade against the sexist hypochrisy of a media turning from thoughtful style of his mid-80s interviews to more bitter attacks during the 1990s. Having asked about his political ideas 1991 he answered: "Well, I rarely watch TV. I never read a newspaper. I feel separate from the political world. I just find it harder and harder to care. Occasionally I will hear truly sensible voices such as Clare Short or Tony Benn and, of course, these are the ones who are scorned and gagged. So I despair of politics." Maconie 1991: 36. See more about Morrissey's political views from Robertson 1988: 38-41. '8 Cloonan 1995: 10. 59 Patterson 1996. See also Reynolds 1990: 23, 28.
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Morrissey's "imaginary England" consisted of modernism and traditionalism which seemed to be a consistent worldview for him but baffling construction for the most of the media and for the disenfranchised of this "imaginary land." His partly relentless quest for honesty and partly contrived persona's celebration of different aspects of Englishness - wit, articulation, truculence, asexuality, opinionated grimness, tragicomic humour, parochial worldview harking back the past was something very "new" during the 80s being at the same time not very well at ease with modernism. Morrissey also celebrated a kind of "new auteurism," which was not predominantly about musicianship in terms of the sixties rock culture. Thus he could be put into the context in which other pop stars of the eighties were described by the deconstruction of stardom in new pop and dance culture, although he would hate the comparison. Morrissey's source for the reconstruction of the idea of Morrissey as a star was the "cultural past": literary influence from Oscar Wilde, Mancunian influence of George Formby, "fragileness of youth" theme influenced by James Dean and the ambivalent sexuality of glam rock influenced by the 70s garish glam sluttishness of New York Dolls.60 Morrissey's and the Smiths' "mythical England" is like a theme park of popEnglishness, the impetus behind it being Morrissey's ambiguous and controversial publicity which is obsessed in self-invention. This clearly fascinates journalists. It is both a mark of rock rebellion in the age, when the revoltness of rock is becoming like a just one lifestyle option of media, and a living proof for it that rock interviews still carry some controversiality in them. Tony Parsons sees this contradiction in his star-persona: "He fulfils stardom's ultimate criteria - no matter how much is written about him, he remains unknown."61 Morrissey's identity construction is inseparable from his star-persona. As Richard Dyer shows, "stars can dramatise by their very ordinary / extra ordinariness and by their 'magical synthesis' of irreconcilable cultural conflicts."62 Morrissey's appeal for his followers lies in his construction of himself "as a fan as a star as a fan." He has said, "that only total involvement in pop fandom could make you later a popstar."63 But this involvement is only possible for "a star as a fan": Morrissey is a character in a pop era of nonentities, and characters are always lopsided, contrary, incomplete, the sum of wounds and bigotries. Morrissey is "half a person," his very being constituted around lack, maladjustment - this is the vantage point from which he launches his w
Themost interesting books about the world of Morrissey are Rogan 1992; Slee 1994; Robertson 1988.There are also very wide amount of interesting articles too many to mention here although I have tried to examine the main themes covered there. « Parsons 1993: 22. « Dyer 1979: 30. 63 Robertson 1988: 14—15. Morrissey paid homage to his fandom for James Dean in his video Suedehead. The Smiths and Morrissey refused constantly during the heyday of pop music video in the mid-eighties to make them, but in his solo career he started to release them putting his personal obsessions through them in public. In the Suedehead video he goes to Iowa to visit the birthplace of James Dean. Here he reveals his spiritual longing for teenhood the fragile embodiment of which Dean is. He is on a geographical and spiritual pilgrimage, practising his literary dandyist pose in the farmhouse attic of the home of James Dean and contemplating by his grave.
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impossible demands on life, his denial of the reality principle. This is why Morrissey can't develop as an artist. How could he grow when his very being is constructed around the petulant refusal - "I won't grow up"? The tragedy of The Smiths is that Morrissey could only become the victim of the perfection of his style. Like Jagger, like Rotten, he is condemned to live out its pantomime forever.64
This characterisation and the dramatisation of misery, in the role of a bedroomboxer-rebel with its supposed asexuality, comes out as a living contradiction when he is at the same time celebrated as the cultivated English gentleman, "and his greatest quality hailed as his no-nonsense Northerness, that incredible workingclassness."65 Stringer also argues that part of Morrissey's appeal lies in his image as this cultivated English gentleman: Being every inch the typically English "gent" he is perfectly representative of that type's loathing for cant and hypocrisy, and of its fragile, quasigay sexuality. "Morrissey's star-image signifies the snobby, traditional, eccentric, English gent. [...] Journalists remark upon his uppercrust voice. His method is to use very clipped, precise enunciation. His singing strains for "correct," clear English diction."
Although Stringer says this, he notes the contradiction in his star appeal mattering to a rock audience which likes him because he is male, English and working-class. This is Morrissey's world of "Little England," which Cloonan calls as "hip little Englishness,"67 laying somewhere between ambivalence towards England and overt nationalism. With the second thought it is somehow misleading to talk about "hip little England" in the case of Morrissey, although it may be understood here in terms of "little England being a state of mind," because he overtly propagates his Mancunian roots which he is very proud of.68 Cloonan continues saying that Morrissey personifies this reactionary form of pop "Englishness." He seems to appeal to the racist sentiments that bubble beneath the surface of the little-Englander mentality often portrayed in his songs. Again this is not to say that Morrissey is a racist, but to note that the "Englishness" he presents can accommodate and comfort such sentiments.69
As Cloonan notices, this leads easily to accusations of xenophobia and racism camouflaged as "harmless Northern pride." The identity construction and the conflicts of class are very important keys in opening doors of Morrissey's mind, although I think that the main reason for his contradictory mix of upper-class diction and working-class fascination, Northern values and "Little Englandism," "bedroompoet" and "bully-boy in the ring" identity is his rootlesness. The not so often mentioned fact is that Morrissey's family came originally from Ireland but had been in Manchester since the fifties:
μ Reynolds 1990: 22-23. « Bret 1994: 168. Morrissey seems to follow a maxim that true expression means faking it, when using the immaculate diction of an upper-class accent. « Stringer 1992: 17, 19. « Cloonan 1995: 9. 68 "Little Northern Provincialism" might be a better title. Ibid.: 9.
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Spend any time in the North-West and you realise that Ireland is a centrifugal force as powerful, if not more powerful, than London. Another revelation is just how strong an Irish community there is in Manchester. Most southerners are familiar with the idea that Liverpool is an Irish city - with the readily attributed characteristics of humour, fecklessness, extravagant displays of emotion - but you'll find as strong a pattern of immigrants 35 miles to the east, deeper into a potentially hostile country. Emigration from Ireland remains constant, but the last major suige was in the 1950s and it was during that surge that the parents of today's rock stars moved to find work: the parents of Morrissey and Johnny Marr, of Liam and Noel Gallagher of Oasis.70
You can hear the ambiguity of an immigrant outsider in both the Smiths and Oasis songs and this is why Morrissey is keen to play with the images of class from the point of view of a romantic outsider. Although he implicitly denies it, Morrissey must be aware of the (postmodern role-play, which he at the same time violently despises, especially when speaking how Madonna uses it, and uses in his own media strategies. Thus Morrissey's (star)identity could be seen at the same time "dislocated" and "fixed," (postmodern and pre-modern, "split" and "one." This "split personality" side of his psyche became evident during the media controversy in which he stated pro-British National Party opinions and agreed to be fascinated by skinheads: The sight of streams of skinheads in nail varnish... it somehow represents the Britain I love. Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought the skinhead was an entirely British invention. If I was ever asked for an autograph by someone wearing those awful Cure baseball boots, I'd take it as a sign from Hell that the curtain was coming down. It would be Hell's hottest hob.71
Because of the experiences of Thatcherism and skinhead imagery associated with football hooligans, the Union Jack wasn't very popular emblem in the pop world of the eighties. When Morrissey appeared in August 1992 at London's Finsbury Park concert "waving the flag" (actually, he had it wrapped around him), he started the great debate about Englishness in British pop music which led partly to the creation of notion of Brit-pop. The media condemned him as a fascist and he was later in the autumn associated with neo-nazi demonstrators rampaging in Central London.72 However, Morrissey's world is not only rooted in the geography or in the implicit tendency to romanticise "the white ethnicity" of skinheads. Although he has also used skinhead imagery as back-drops at concerts and in his album covers, flirting with the danger of these images, I would argue that it should not be taken out of the context of national obsessions formulated in his "imaginary England." In addition to this, Morrissey seems to think that when constructing imaginary, mythical notions of England through media babble activated by his oral skills, he does not have to worry about any kind of political correctness. This emphasis on white Englishness in pop might also be implicated in the contempt for dance-based music also linked to the controversial statement made by Morrissey in September 1986 concerning race and reggae:
™ Savage 1996a: 392-394. See also Rogan 1992: 43-47. " Maconie 1991: 37. η Sec New Musical Express 22.8.1992: 12-16; Select November/92: 14-17; Select Apnl/93: 6 0 71.
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Reggae is vile. Reggae to me is the most racist music in the entire world. It's an absolute glorification of black supremacy. Obviously to get on Top of The Pops these days one has to be, by law, black. I think something political has happened and there has been a hefty pushing of all these black artists and all this discofied nonsense into the Top 40.73
In an interview made in 1991 he continued his public diatribe against dance culture: I could never ever begin to explain to you the utter loathing I feel for, as you say, dance music. I think dance music has destroyed everything. It certainly killed the pop star. It is bought by audiences who do not care about the personalities involved in music making. I despise the advent of the 12-inch remix, the multi mix, the dance mix, the etcetera mix. Dance records are generally made by people who are not sensitive, who don't care about the history of music. And to me that's the most important element. They don't care at all about the past. They don't care about what has gone before.14
Although Morrissey did not like the bodily pleasures of the dancefloor he transformed himself from bedsit-poet to boxer-enthusiast as a bully-boy. His contradictory character turned from literary redusiveness of the dandy to laddism with a fascination towards what Jon Savage describes as "the petty, peculiarly vicious nature of British violence."75 Morrissey's metamorphosis is like a history book chapter leading from the flirt with sexual ambiguities of glam/new pop world of British pop-dandyism to the uncomplicated heterosexual vision of Blairism and Brit pop. It seems that everything which Morrissey likes or what fascinates him is "bricks and mortar" for his identity construction. Therefore Julian Stringer argues that "we can see that the Smiths' 'Englishness' is given positive value as a restorer of English identity."76 The 1970s Bowie experimentations laid the foundations for this attitude, but the world for Bowie was also a world of future and a world of constant exploration of its limits. Morrissey wants to celebrate these limits and for him this world, with its multiplicity of voices, is a painful experience he refuses to deal with: Morrissey is the first major teen icon whose aesthetic is based around the conviction that rock'n'roll's best years are (in the) past, that the premises of youth culture have been outflanked. His whose work is grounded not in anticipation and impatience, but vacillation, resignation and looking back. These feelings - homesickness for a place you couldn't wait to leave (Manchester), nostalgia for a time that was never any good in the first place (adolescence) - were why the music of the Smiths refracted the quandaries of the eighties like no other. It's a sign of the times that pop-as-reinvention-of-the-self is something that resonates for fewer and fewer people in the
" Robertson 1988: 81. 74 Kemp 1991:54. Morrissey's opposition against everything "eighties-like" exemplified in MTV and Live-Aid as symbolic global pop-communities, could be seen in terms of this yearning for "history" and "personalities." Because dance music is conspicuously trying to avoid creating "character" or traditional pop star personalities, and because it deconstructs the past, not trying to preserve it like Morrissey does, but more like quoting and "tasting" of different musics and sounds exemplified by sampling, it is understandable why it irritates him so much. " Savage 1996b: 262. 76 Morrissey has remarked about the sadness of modern English society that "people do actually mourn the loss of its identity more than they'll admit." (Stringer 1992: 17)
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world that is the music press readership. That the pollwinner, the figure most identified with is Morrissey: victim of his past, chained to his memories, only able to imagine being eternally unrequited by life.77 This ambivalent feeling for a place lingers around when Morrissey gets his "true s e l f ' out starting to talk about his relationship to Manchester and Lancaster region. In a very intimate and revealing interview from 1986 Morrissey shared with Frank Owen his innermost memories and feelings about Manchester. Talking about Manchester's Whalley Range, the n o w destroyed Arndale Centre, Piccadilly all night bus station and other "notorious" landmarks o f the city and escaping Perries, the violent subculture of Collyhurst, he paints the mythical vision o f the city resembling much to its 70s-bound post-industrial gloominess: Ifthe Perrys didn't get you, then the beer monsters were waiting around the comer. I still remember studying the football results to see if City or United had lost, in order to judge the level of violenceto be expected in the city centre that night. It was the frustration that I felt that I didn't feel easy walking around the streets on which I'd been bom, where all my family had lived they're originally from Ireland but had been here since the Fifties. In one way I despise Manchester and yet I still have a deep affection for the place.7* This fascinated revulsion towards Manchester emerges from the fact that life for the would-be Bohemian in Manchester was always hard. Pre-punk, those seeking sanctuary from the patrolling behemoths covered in vomit, had little alternative but to take refuge in the gay clubs, like Dickens, or the gay pubs, like the Rembrandt or the Union: 79 The gay scene in Manchester was a little bit heavy for me. I was a delicate bloom. There was no place, at that time, in Manchester, in the very early stages, that one could be surrounded by fascinating, healthy people. It was always like the cross-eyed, club-footed, one-armed, whatever.80 Owen, his fellow Mancunian, agrees with him: He's right. It was dangerous and, with the increased media visibility of punk, the violence get worse. You see, punks were not only faggots, they were uppity faggots as well. They made music, they wrote poetry, and, of course, they dressed up. It was as if they were protesting against the limits of prole Northern experience. The Manchester scene wasn't a product of Manchester but a triumph over it." There is definitely a line which g o e s from the breakthrough o f punk through the Smiths to Acid Summer of 1988 and the "Madchester boom" o f early 90s s h o w i n g how Manchester rubbed its face during the Thatcherite degeneration o f the city. It
" Reynolds 1990: 29. Reynolds finds this attitude in the whole sphere of 1980s British indie pop. According to his account, its concerns are undanceability, "bodily" passive contemplation, a liberation from sexuality, white-middle-class bohemianism with ostentatious absenteeism and a return to tradition with the first anti-modernist revolt in pop history. Reynolds 1988: 245-255. What is remarkable here is that the sixties is still the main reference point: "And where all these ideas converge is in two (very much linked) periods - childhood and the Sixties. The Sixties are like pop's childhood, when the idea of youth was still young." (ibid.: 248) 7» Owen 1996: 236-237. 79 Ibid.: 238. See also about the importance of gay pubs and clubs for the Manchester scene in Savage 1991: 298-299, 1996: 261-262. so Owen 1996:238. 8i Ibid.: 239.
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led to the regeneration which refined its identity and thus dropped off the earlier concrete-block gloominess.'2 The Smiths and Morrissey can be understood in the context of the de-industrialisation of the North although I think that Morrissey's role is more like "the role of the visionary and the eccentric as a radical impulse in English culture which is one that is little understood."'3 For Michael Bracewell Morrissey is the Last English Pop Star in which "the deliquescence of national identity becomes a metaphor for personal identity" leading his role into the "great outsiders of England" canon: It would be ironic that Wilde and Morrissey, both Anglo-Irishmen, would be England's underground analysts at either end of the century; the English equivalents, perhaps, of Whitman and Warhol in America. It would be doubly ironic that they would find themselves first feted and then pilloried for going too far by the respective generations who had found wit, solidarity or guidance in their philosophies."
This outsider observation links Morrissey and Wilde also to Noel Coward and many other "English visionaries" for whom O'Pray argues that film directors Michael Powell & Emeric Pressbuiger belong to the visionary tradition of British art with Kipling, Wells, Shaw, Dickens, Bunyan, Blake and Korda who constitute a largely ignored tradition characterized by "the visionary, the grotesque and the polemical."85
English visionaries have always been outsiders and exiles who have defined "Englishness" better than England in itself. But this visionary eccentricity springs also from the "heart of England" because of Morrissey's affection for Edith Sitwell, the author of "English Eccentrics," and from abroad because an infatuation with notorious glam stars like Jobriath and New York Dolls and for German castrato-operasinger, who turned rock star in the late 70s, Klaus Nomi." Morrissey is then a pilgrim, a flaneur and a pop tourist at the same time defining himself as an "embodiment ofpop-plaisir" against the "vulgarjouissance of dance culture." Or is he just "fingering the cultural theft" when trying to get into the position of flaneur in the age of a tourist, trying to see the boundaries and possibilities of England much more anxiously than an insider could? 82
Michael Bracewell serves an altogether rarer vision of Manchester and its surrounding landscape. The literary history referring to Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and the hidden history of northern curiosities create Bracewell's notion of "the cult of fatalism of the north": "Open to the weather and the immensity of the sky, the moors are like a desert landscape of the north, their rugged inhospitality barely leavened by their natural beauty. In northern culture they become the theatre of rumination, transcendence and alienation." (Bracewell 1997: 164-173) Although he notices Lancastrian humour he sticks into a romanticised vision of the Southern literary type, for whom the north is a mystical, primitive and even diabolical place, of which distinctive features in terms of the different places does not interest him. Thus the North is only an "ideal" imaginary antipode to Arcady of green fields, sun and endless summer. This echoes widely England's north-south divide, and especially its literary version which connects the 19th century novels to the late 20th century media products representing North as being distinctly "different" to the sophisticated South. 83 O'Pray 1987: 155-156. 84 Bracewell 1997: 226. «5 O'Pray 1987: 155. 86 Bret 1994: 116-117, 131-132.
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All this seems to lead him to construct an "imaginary England" in which all influences - literary, filmic and musical - come around, and which he likes to orchestrate as an ultimate notion o f what the authentic Englishness is or should be: The most concentrated set of references comes from a particular moment in British culture, in the late 1950s and early 1960s: early rockers like the scouser Billy Fury, teenage playwrights such as Shelagh Delaney, or nothem working-class icons like Pat Phoenix, star of the longestrunning soap ever, Coronation Street. TV shows such as these and plays like Delaney's A Taste of Honey focused attention on industrial conurbations like Manchester and imbued them with glamour. This is the moment caught by Billy Liar. Deliberately filmed in "anytown" in the north of England - in fact Manchester and Leeds - Billy drifts through a cityscape in transition, described by Engels as "a laboratory of the Industrial Revolution," being by 1962 swept away by consumer capitalism - an idea imported from America - beginning finally to take hold in Britain. Billy Liar itself symbolized this new, brassy confidence, being a part of the wave of "kitschen-sink" films which appealed to the working class, the young, and a new cosmopolitanism.17 The Smiths' album cover stars embody the moment caught by Billy Liar and also exemplify the mythical adolescence fascinated by Morrissey. A l s o predominantly female pop stars, like Sandie Shaw, Cilia Black, Helen Shapiro or Timi Yuro from the late 50s and the 60s, are models for Morrissey's "imaginary England." 88 In an interview with Nick Kent in 1990 he admitted his "hopeless" infatuation with this world: Don't you feel that England is a doomed country now? "Yes I do, and so does everybody else. Even people who are quite level-headed and quite capable of happiness feel that this country is absolutely shambolically doomed. I feel I have to stay, though. Anything else would be too much like desertion. In this country, change is just so hard. And I don't see why it should be." This "Englishness" you wrap yourself in... "Yes I do." Don't you ever feel like leaving all your books, records and old films - all your reference points to bygone cultures - and stepping out to embrace something new? "No, I've never wanted to do that. Why should I?" So is the height of happiness, for you, still the idea of watching a good film on afternoon TV? "Yes it is, it certainly is."8" But this longing is not exclusively reserved for the "imaginary construction"; it is the whole English culture which embraces him: There are very few aspects of Englishness I actually hate. I can see the narrowness, and love to sing about it. But I don't hate Englishness in any way. All aspects of England, whether it be underclass, or extreme affluence, I find very interesting and entertaining. And it's still, I feel, cliche as it may seem, the sanest country in the world.90 The generations of people who made England such a fascinating, interesting and artistically gentle place are slipping away. We're almost at a stage when there won't be anyone living who
87
For Savage, Morrissey is a Billy Liar of the 80s. Morrissey adores many feminist writers and especially Shelagh Delaney. The populist nationalism and sentimental conceptions of Britishness in Ealing comedies appeal to him as much as Angry Young Men movies, especially Albert Finney in Saturday Night & Sunday Morning. (Savage 1996: 257-264) See also Slee 1994: 5659. 88 The one male who is admitted to his gallery of stars is Billy Fury. See more about Morrissey's fascination with him from Bret 1994: 8. »•> Kent 1990: 57. 90 Reynolds 1990: 16-17.
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can remember the Second World War. Even the English language, I find, has been hopelessly mucked about with everything which is American or Australian. It's not that I dislike America but being English inspires me in a poetic way.91
Morrissey seems to cherish the very constraints and despondency of a now disappearing England, fetishize the lost limits. The Smiths deployed the imagery of provincial northern life, the residues of a lost Englishness, as a weapon against the cheap hedonism of an Americanized southern England of Thatcher era. Precisely that parochial stuffiness that the Rolling Stones and the counter-culturalism of the 1960s reacted against had somehow become an alluring and reproachful memory.92 The era of the Smiths and Morrissey were and is also the era of de-industrialisation which has been cultural shock in the North England. Somehow this conflation of (de-)industrialisation and nostalgia come alive in the world of Morrissey. Morrissey's "imaginary Englishness" and "imaginary provincialism" could then be viewed as an act of relocation in terms of the postmodern condition. The importance of the Smiths and Morrissey lay in their ability to valorize this contradiction in the post-sixties British world and pop music. Whether it is "Luddite labour pop" or something else, it was the realisation of pop's coming to the age which made the Smiths and most of the eighties nostalgia-tinged pop. The sixties-style confidence of British pop cultural output, which is so conspicuous in the mid-1990s, seemed absent from the 1980s. The mythical concept of England reconstructed by the certainties ofthat historical output in the sixties was and is for Morrissey in the words of Roland Barthes "a value as a myth, in which truth is no guarantee for it and nothing prevents it from being a perpetual alibi."93 This value of "art as myth and art as memory" brings to mind the alleged shift from the linear time of 60s pop turning into the serial time of the 80s in which postpunk, the Smiths, new pop and dance cultures could all be seen as a part of deconstruction of modern popular music - modernist literary tradition coinciding with postmodernist, deconstructionist tradition in pop, retro-identities coinciding with the fragmenting identities of pop music and communal identities coinciding with imaginary possibilities of the isolation and privacy in pop music culture. Morrissey and the Smiths are important in this case, because they seem to em : body both discourses of punk ethic and rhetorics and a return to the 1960s rock discourses of pop star as an auteur. For example, constant comparing of JaggerRichards and Lennon-McCartney to Morrissey-Marr seem to exemplify this. Although the 1980s saw the burgeoning of postmodernist discourses of pop music, it was also the first decade of nostalgia. Morrissey's "imaginary pop-England" cast the huge non-compromising, unapologetic and contradictory shadow 91
Bret 1994: 95-96. Morrissey's carping resonates to the world of nostalgic concept of "Englishness" but sometimes he gets a bit agitated of this jargon: "Q: Do you pine for a mythical Britain? A: Perhaps, It's certainly gone now. England doesn't only not rule the waves, it's actually sunk below them. And all that remains is debris. But in amongst the debris shine slits of positivity. It gives the impression that I do nothing from morning 'til night but think about the once proud Empire, which I never do. It's another ghost that needs exorcising, rather like the one that says my fans are all pathetically devoted Virginia Woolfs who can't dance." (Maconie 1991: 37) « Reynolds 1990: 16, 24. »3 Barthes 1989: 123.
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on the whole notion of that nostalgia and on the whole notion of pop media which creates and comments it. In many cases, the journalists and Morrissey seemed to share the mutual dissatisfaction of the Thatcher generation children yielding provocative and unpredictable insights which they were illuminating to their audiences.
J.
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