…in a talk loaded with one after another. The astonishingly brilliant Lauren Berlant at AAA in 2011: http://supervalentthought.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/berlant-aaa-2011final.pdf
“Austerity, Precarity, Awkwardness”
“But fantasy can’t be garbaged in the same way that governmental infrastructures have been: for the state’s legitimacy to continue appearing sovereign and performative, the state finds it still imperative for citizens and denizens not only to appear to consent to the law, the police, and the tax code, but also to harbor the sentimental collective memories of suffering and optimism that maintain the fantasy of the common that still floats the nation form’s promise, even as its material presence, sold off to the highest private bidders, disappoints, defunds, and deserts the mass of the people who rely on it.”
Charging this kid with using a Weapon of Mass Destruction invites blowback. (And we should take note of the tortuous legal definitions and history of the deliberately ill-defined concept of WMD’s.) In what ways are such acts of classification and naming NOT an invitation to escalate? Does this not give incentive to malcontents, whatever their background or intent? Now you too can be on the same footing as a Saddam Hussein or, more recently, a Bashar al-Assad.
This charge of using a WMD strikes me not as threat prevention but, rather, as threat propagation. And, in this sense, charging a 19 year old boy for making a WMD with ingredients that could be bought at any Walmart is a fitting and consistent continuation of this pattern, where militaristic escalation drives both a ‘war on terror,’ as well as defending the security of a ‘homeland.’
We all knew it was going to happen. Chronicle of a war foretold. I hope, during this anniversary, the press will be willing to rigorously cover themselves. But the American ‘press’ has a malicious habit of almost never doing so. Which is why we need comedians, I guess. They do the (media) criticism that the press, or politicians, or corporations systematically try not to do. (The irony of being able to capitalize on outrage as part of the information-entertainment complex is not lost on many of us.) It’s not that such criticisms don’t exist in the public sphere. Rather, they just don’t exist for very long. They are never the stories upon which we can dwell, contemplate, think. None of the aforementioned institutions can soundly or ethically examine their own underlying structures. They exist as phantasms of their own doing, their hidden underbellies are always to be protected.*
And why would such institutions examine the basis for their own being, their wealth, their profit? Their hold on power relies upon one another. They exist for one another. Their animating competition is a myth to which we are all told to subscribe. And that is planetary. And that is neoliberal capitalism. And that is why the United States is not really a a democracy. After 9/11, we accelerated the colonization of ourselves. And, yet, this may be a very good thing. Depending, of course, on how you look at it.
*They pay fines of various sorts to absolve themselves of their own corruption. Guilt never has to be admitted. Not the first time in history this has ever happened. And as (if?) the species goes forward, probably not the last. We will all, of course, pay for these sins. The act of writing is obscure in the face of such power. So am I. But the obscurity of billions may still have value.
In 2004, just as the rise of Web 2.0 ushered in a new wave of techno-utopianism, historian of science Peter Galison sketched out some rough calculations in an attempt to gauge the size of the so-called ‘classified’ universe. His conclusion: “Whether one figures by acquisition rate, by holding size, or by contributors, the classified universe is, as best I can estimate, on the order of five to ten times larger than the open literature that finds its way to our libraries” (“Removing Knowledge” 231). It would be more than a year later that The New York Times would reveal to the public that such secrecy had extended deep into the nation’s commercial telecommunications networks.
Nearly a decade since then, how have various campaigns that marshal the language and rhetoric of openness and transparency responded to the fact that we are dealing with information as structural absence? In what ways have different types of social and p2p media accounted for and responded to these facets of the so-called ‘public sphere,’ particularly as digital media proliferates exponentially? Is the rise of secrecy inextricably intertwined with the rise of digital networks? And how might we better register this seeming paradox when we rely upon digital media to define access and openness, when these technologies often arise from an inaccessible universe of government and corporate secrecy–a thicket of Non-Disclosure Agreements and Classification Actions?