Radis, Germinal, 228; Animate gynoids and broken keys

Thanks to Crystal for reminding me that the French Republican calendar twitter account (from where I purchased my calendar - the humorously named @sansculotides) tweet the day and associated flora each day so it's a good way of reverse-engineering the date. Today we celebrate the radish. Today we do not celebrate two weeks of the left-hand shift, alt and control keys not working on my keyboard. This is definitely a software problem which might be solved by resetting the SMC if that didn't require exactly those keys. I've run through all the hardware and software fixes I can find without doing that. Basically the only thing left to me now is to factory reset the computer and hope it fixes it, the battery also now lasts about two hours, when video calling, about half an hour and these are not great batteries to replace. So this is all a great time to move everything online.

I've clung on to this 2015 Macbook Pro since I got it (I don't own it, it's a university computer) and have resisted having it replaced, not only for environmental reasons but I genuinely believe late 2015 was the beginning of the end for Apple's generous approach to designing things. The very last vestige of an assumption of a broad constituency of users and uses needing some individual adaptability for multi-purposing. It has usable sockets; USB sockets I use constantly, an SD card slot I admittedly use only occasionally and an HDMI socket I use everyday. I can open up the back and replace the RAM and drive. If this thing is for the knackers yard then I guess it's either finding a refurbed 2015 I can upgrade myself or a PC. I've always liked the design of Thinkpads, but the issues around booting Mac OS on them seems more trouble than it's worth. Long live the late 2015 Macbook Pro and iPhone 5s, the last of Apple's good designs.

Enough prevaricating (one more - remember when new technology was actually exciting, rather than just vaguely disappointing? When we looked at new releases and went 'wow, that's so clever!' rather than 'why have they done that, that's annoying.' Remember when apps were fun? Ugh.) With the caveat to the enormous privilege I have. I've been finding the lockdown remarkably productive. I wake up at the same time everyday, I'm drinking a lot less, I sleep a lot better, I eat a lot better, I'm getting more done. There was always a kind of nascent guilt in getting home after work and just not feeling up to putting in more time on my own research and practice but now I feel more energised. So, what have I been up to with that energy? Looking at words.

Reading

I've been reading a bunch of things related to the PhD which have all been useful but some highlights here:

Lev Manovich's What is Digital Cinema? essay from the late nineties in which he writes that the encroachment of (at the time) manual computational techniques like CGI have made (or even possibly returned) cinema to a 'sub-genre of painting'. He argues that we find a kind of resting state of image production in human culture not in attempting to capture photorealism but in creating irreal visions and fantasy through the human hand. He suggests that the modernist drive for photorealism is a blip in this history and CGI and computational animation techniques offer a return to the potential of human imagination and away from the ‘indexical media technology’ of lens-based image capture. I like this idea a lot as in my writing it’s something I’ve struggled to find a viewpoint on; how to contextualise social media, propaganda, cinema, digital art and video games as a single site for designerly enquiry. Rooting them all in some fundamental process of envisioning or fantasising through image production might be a useful stance. Perhaps it’s useful to suggest that they’re all a genre of painting? It’s a quite a teleological, technical view but it’s neat. I like it when things are neat.

I chunked through the Animatic Apparatus by Deborah Levitt, recommended by Joel McKim. Levitt agrees with Manovich's notion that 'animation' as she calls it is the more fundamental form of human artifice, rather than capturing reality. By 'animation' she is not just referring to visual representation but the ways that human make other things animate. She draws extensively on theories around artificial life, from marionettes to gynoids and AI and aesthetic theories of beauty; this is super interesting strategically. In the way I interpreted it, she's trying to do the opposite of just about every other single thing in this area; rather than refining and treading over and over the Uncanny Valley as countless others do to try and pin down where 'animatic' forms become upsetting or alienating, she (again, my interpretation) is trying to define where things fall outside of it and attain beauty, their qualities and why we are drawn to them. This is a more theory-laden take on Alan Warburton's excellent work in this area.

Levitt uses the gynoid dolls from Ghost In The Shell; Innocence as a standing example throughout the text. In fact, a majority of the book is a very thorough analysis of the film, a long-time favourite of mine. I had no idea how many advanced references and complex intertextuality were in it before. In her interpretation, Innocence provides a way of seeing the 'animatic apparatus' as an aspiration for humans rather than the usual representation of animatic forms where they aspire to become human. She contrasts Innocence favourably to Spielberg's A.I. and its Pinnochio story in this regard. The characters in Innocence take cyborgs (in this case advanced, technical ones, I had no idea Donna Haraway was in Innocence, did you?) on their terms; as a kind of being in their own right. She uses some interesting theories on 'vitality forms' – the way that types of movements are precursors to the categorisation of emotions in the minds of infants – to develop this point. Similar, to Manovich, the message is kind of the same; consistently trying to create reality using these tools (the 'apparatus' including social tendencies) is to underestimate the potential of them.

I also finally cracked the spine on Mark Fisher's Ghosts of My Life since I'm apparently the only person that's never read it. The first chapter was great for my PhD, lots of great theory on how we relate to the future without name dropping philosophers, just some thoughtful insights. I read about half of it this week and did find it incredibly moving. His reflections on culture, music and himself are deep and meaningful and I get why everyone recommends it but it's the music bit I struggle with and knew I would. In lieu of philosophical references I'll never understand, it's riddled with musical references I've never heard of. I had to stop every few paragraphs to bring up a track or artist he was referencing. I think you need to be really into music to immerse yourself in it, or of his generation. Maybe someone's already made a playlist you can listen along to as you read?

Yesterday I picked up Mark Hansen's Feed Forward, read three pages and gave up. There's only so much media theory bogged in inaccessible philosophy I can take and I got bored and wondered off.

Anyway, today I'm DIY-ing the home office. Since we moved in last summer it's basically been the room where everything that has nowhere else to go lives. we were putting off doing it until this summer. But now, since I'm going to be in there everyday for the next however-many-months I've decided to make it presentable and a bit more usable. So, got some shelving and some paint and away we go.

Love you, bye. x

Vélar, Ventôse, 228; Reading GANs


Oh I had lots to talk about but to be honest I'm tired an a bit sad so I'll just dump some quick thoughts on a thing and leave you to your week.

Wes sent me this to read which he's featured in of course. It's all good but I was particularly there to read How Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs) Changed the Way we Look at the World by Lenka Hámošová. I appreciate a straightforward title and it's also a useful breakdown contextualising machine learning in the story of photographic forgery and propaganda-driven editing. Interestingly, the author also pushes at the idea of over-scepticism, that as well as the possibility for social manipulation through forgery, we may become overly suspicious of images that are in fact, unaltered. In my work on this subject I've drawn many of the same parallels; Stalin, photoshop etc etc but hadn't considered the idea that publics might wholesale distrust visual media as a result of its very production. For some reason I'm minded here of the sharpie issue when Trump altered a map of Hurricane Dorian's path with a Sharpie. Despite the obvious fraud (and Trump's ongoing fractious relationship with Sharpies) there appears to be an implicit notion that a direct connection between the author (Trump) and the artefact (the adapted map) implies truth while a digitally produced image without the hand of an author visibly present could be mistaken.

To be honest, there's not much more to the text than a description of the current state of play in the technology and a call for tools to interpret images produced by GANs. It's easy to speculate on dystopian visions of total distrust and then demand better tools for verification. I'm more interested in the wider social and human effects on visual culture.

Buis, Pluviôse, 228; What if everything was ok?

Stuart and Nicolas basically said it was ok to keep using French Republican dates as titles so that's where we are now with this blog. Incidentally I told a colleague that I blogged every week and they made a joke about 2015. 2015 was a good year for music. So. Anyway, whatever. Friday was Brexit day and like a lot of folks I found myself once again feeling the profound hopelessness and despair that we felt in 2016:

Sometimes I have a dream where I'm desperately imploring someone to listen to me and stop and change their ways. I'm not sure who my interlocutor is; I usually see myself in the third-person with my antagonist off-screen. In my dream I'm utterly convinced that they are so incorrect and so misled that if they continue what they are doing it will irreparably damage us both. I start persuading them calmly but they refuse to listen, or ignore me, or continue doing the thing I'm trying to get them to stop and it escalates into shouting, screaming for them to stop but they continue to ignore me, or simply can't hear me. In the end my throat is raw from screaming, my head throbs with rage, my back is bent over and I'm exhausted and crying but they carry on.

I hate that dream. It hurts. Maybe you have it too? I'm sorry if you do. It probably has some symbolic meaning about insurmountable adversity but like a lot of my dreams I tend to ignore it and pocket it until it later bears a semblance upon life when I can draw on it for learning.

But that dream came to mind on Friday evening while watching the symbols of Brexit happen. I'm always wary of blaming or singling out individuals for things that I personally find to be wrong because people are usually the victims of calamitous events rather than causes. And unless you are a murderer, sexual predator or other nefarious being the chances are that circumstance has as much a part in the situation as free will. But it was hard watching some of the vox-pops with folks celebrating this historic catastrophe and not want to blame them for their choices in our particular calamity: You must have seen the interview; (I generalise from despair, but you get the gist):
'We'll be in control again.'
'Of what?'
'You know, our country.'
'Ok, but what specifically?'
'Our sovereignty.'
'What does that mean for you?'
'Oh, well, control of our own laws.'
'Which laws?'
'All the laws that Europe took away.'
'Ok, which ones?'
'Like...fishing laws. We'll have our own fishing laws.'
'So how will that affect your daily life?'
'Oh, well, it won't but we'll have our own laws.' 
And on and on and on it goes like the greatest Monty Python sketch writ large on the rhetorical path to nowhere. You can't blame folks for deploying words like 'sovereignty' and 'laws' without (as I don't) even really knowing what they mean. They're parroting the Eurosceptic words they've heard since the early-2000s.

So then if we don't blame the folks gathered in Parliament Square to celebrate the ritual sacrifice of fifty years of mutual cooperation, do we blame and scream at the politicians? (you know specifically the ones I mean) I mean, it's good catharsis if you like your throat cut to ribbons but they're just doing politics. Let's imagine a pleasant fiction:

As with our world, the end of the Cold War leads to an end of a clear 'us and them' narrative simultaneous to enormous growth in the economic prosperity of the most wealthy leaving the once exhorted working and lower middle classes behind. Instead of blaming non-white people (War on Terror) or 'the elites' some right-wing think tank (supported by the tabloids, fintech and green tech investment) puts together a cohesive, straight-forward and digestible narrative that lands the blame for social inequality squarely at the feet of exploitative extraction and fossil fuel industries. New politicians like Noris Fohnson and Bigel Jarage campaign and harry – out of political expediency rather than conviction – for an anti-fossil fuel platform in the right wing, swinging MPs – out of political expediency rather than conviction – to call a referendum in 2016 on a carbon neutral economy by 2020. They promise jobs, new industries, growth, wealth for the 'forgotten' and a nationalistic vision of Britain leading the way. 

Sure, it seems unfeasible but you know, the mechanics are broadly the same. And you can't blame politicians for being political. You CAN blame them for shirking any sense of courage or integrity in the face of a opportunism and of knowingly committing the country to a policy path which they fully understand (and most have admitted before this debacle) will lead to a worse outcome for most people. You can go to fucking town on that one.

So anyway I posted a Political Opinion on Instagram on Friday night and braced for the inevitable backlash but instead received some sympathy, kind words and two interesting debates in which I learned something. This continues to support my conviction that Instagram is my favourite (great articles to the contrary aside). Had I done the same on Twitter dot com I would have received the inevitable 'eat rocks and die you fascist' response. This is a symptom I think of how much Twitter's panopticon structure (you can see what everyone else says) rewards collective outrage. On Instagram, where it's direct messages or you have to go out of your way to read what other people have written about another's thing, there's no need to play to the crowd.

Reading

This week I started reading Designs For The Pluriverse by Arturo Escobar. I actually stomped through about at third of it in one sitting (practically unheard of with my easily-distracted mind.) It explores the possibility of a design that goes agains the grain of design's inherent destructive tendencies, beginning with Tony Fry's notion of 'the "defuturing effects" of modern design, by which he means design's contribution to the systemic conditions of structured unsustainability that eliminate possible futures.' (p. 16) From here, Escobar points at a fork in the road for design and the future; the first drawn form notions such as participation, conviviality, non-dualistic ontologies and matriarchal ideas. The other; Claudia von Werlholf's 'patriarchal alchemy' based on hierarchies, dominance and control. He then scopes out the territory for a nascent new form of 'critical deisgn' present in emerging areas such as transition movements, Latin American feminism and climate activism.

To be totally honest, I don't understand half of it (the cultural theory half specifically); but in a good way. Sometimes I read things where I struggle with the ideas and terms and give up. There's so many things to read that I refuse to engage with things where the author doesn't at least try to engage an audience beyond their immediate peer group. In this case, Escobar really is trying to engage people exactly like me – a western-educated designer – in shifting my conception of my subject. His writing makes me want to re-read sections to understand where he's going at. I'm apprehensive of getting to several areas of the book – the ontological turn and transition design specifically – both of which I've taken several runs at each and come up only slightly more comprehending but I'm kind of excited to tackle those things through his writing.

However, in a book referencing designers, inevitably to be read by designers (even if he is clear that is not his sole audience), it could use some pictures! Escobar refers to a lot of practices throughout the book and rarely illustrates them through description and never through images. The thread of a thought can easily be lost when he drops the name of, for instance, a co-design practitioner I was unaware of and then doesn't expand on what they do and how or use an image of their work making it hard to interpret them as an example of his theory. I also actually like his tendency to string out lists of adjectives which I know some folk find poor style. I do that. So that makes it feel ok. More conceptually, I also feel that sometimes his ideas border on nostalgia such as at one point lamenting the replacing of the fireplace in the home (a site of community) with the television, or enthusing the value of blood relations and physically-local communities over dispersed technological social networks. Maybe there's more to go into here later in the book but I have a niggling concern that (at least early in the book) he off-handedly discounts the role of media technologies in building new kinds of families and communities that for many folks (perhaps western, yes) are more fulfilling – even safer – than the physically proximate ones. Anyway, I'll write more once I wrap it up. It's intense but I'm enjoying the challenge.

Sorry, no learning or channel recommendations this week. This is long enough for you. I've got them in my notes for next week.

Night, x

Coignée, Pluviôse, 228; Power modes, mind control, ancient games

Oh boy, there’s a lot of self-centred guff in this one. If you're not interested (and who could blame you) I would skip through the 'Power Modes' section but there’s no point pretending we don’t have implicit algorithms that we use to make decisions and structure our behaviour. Maybe not everyone does, maybe some folks are just totally confident and comfortable in themselves and their choices that they don’t try and rationalise them.



Mrs Revell and I bought our first flat over the summer and we've been settling in gradually. While the rest of the place is very designerly and tastefully finished my 'office' (the name of this room is still contentious) is the dumping ground for stuff that has nowhere else to go and old furniture. I'm hoping to get some time over the summer to sort it out but for now this is where I write to you from.

Reading

I finished up *New* Program for Graphic Design by David Reinfurt over the tail end of last week while travelling and it was good. There's not much more to say really, if you're into design, design education and design history, read it. I learned lots and found it pretty easy to engage with. So at the weekend I moved onto clearing out some open tabs. The new edition of Continent is right up the Haunted Machines alley and featured great work from Stephen Connor, Nicolas Nova, Suzanne Triester and Peter Moosgard. I also read an article by one of the editors who I hadn't come across before – Anthony Enns on Apocryphal Psychotechnologies. This was an exhaustive history of mind-reading and control devices and the narratives and pseudoscience around them propelled principally by the belief that the mind is a machine and we could read and control it with the right gizmo. 

This provided a very neat segue into Simon Niquille's lates piece for e-flux – Too Much Information. Niquille has a real talent for connecting technical, historical and political ideas around technologies and does a great job here of really hammering the technical trait of believing that 'good enough' simulation means that you can read and control perfectly. Similar to Enns' critique of mind-reading evinced by the brain as an electro-magnetic machine, Niquille describes how the logic of FACS (Facial Action Coding System) – a system used to simulate human emotions on CGI models with a series of 'universal' facial movements – evinced technologists that human emotions could similarly be discretely read from a limited available set:
These applications follow the belief that the face holds the key to truth and reveals thoughts left unspoken. [psychologist Paul] Ekman refers to micro expressions as an “involuntary emotional leakage [that] exposes a person’s true emotions.” In the case of airport screenings, automated facial expression recognition takes on a predictive function by claiming to pick up signals of future intentions. Such expectation echoes the practice of physiognomy, a pseudoscience that originated in antiquity and resurged in Europe during the late Middle Ages to assess a persons character from their outer appearance. 
I would have liked to have seen more critique of the designerly qualities of the machines that Enns' examines, similar to the work that Andrew Friend and Sitraka's 2013 Prophecy Program but I suppose that's not his remit.

Power Modes

Sometimes I think about who we are in different places. If you ask Mrs Revell she’d (probably) say that I mostly like sitting on my own in silence. That’s the kind of ‘resting state’ and then I activate other states for other situations. When I’m in situations where I don’t know anyone or know very few people I seem to have two wildly different states: Either sit-at-the-back, hide in the shadows and crack on with work on the laptop (let’s call this low power mode) or everyone here is interesting, talk to them all, learn about them, soak it up (high power mode). And then I end up thinking – well which one am I really, given no external conditions? I’m not faking being interested in talking to other people or learning about them, their lives and concerns, and we all enjoy the feeling that comes with people giving you their time and attention. Then I’m resentful of the times I don’t make the most of the opportunities to meet new people and learn new things, and sit at the back and hide but also feel safe. 

When I was up in Edinburgh last week I was definitely in high power mode and it was great. I suppose I wonder if there are specific starting conditions or triggers that I can proactively make sure are in place to make sure I get into that mode and make the most of these opportunities. At LCC I’m almost always entirely in that mode but then I already know most people who work in that building and they’re all super interesting so it’s quite comfortable. Anyway, it was fortuitous to listen to David Mitchell on the Adam Buxton podcast while tidying the flat (it’s an old one, I’m playing catch up between bouts of Islamic philosophy) talking about how he deals with small talk as a relatively new parent:
It’s not like I mean to be unfriendly, but I don’t mean to be friendly enough and that is being unfriendly and maybe it’s better that everyone expect me to be unfriendly and then they won’t try and talk to me. Then I can be friendly with my actual friends who know what I’m like and I’m less shy with them and so I will talk to them but I haven’t really got the energy or concentration or courage to be a normal chatty guy. Just generally.
He was referring specifically to small talk at the ‘school gates’ which I suppose I’m unfamiliar with but I am familiar with forced social proximity from other things (cursed ‘networking’ sessions at conferences being a chief culprit or large group meals with people I don’t know) and in those situations the triggers are definitely fired off to go into low power mode. I think when I can’t control, direct or structure the social circumstances I go low power mode: I have to be in that space for a certain amount of time and with a pre-ordained set of people and there’s no control over that. I think I go high power mode when I get to set the rules, chiefly; I can always walk away. There’s much less risk involved if you’re setting at least some of the terms of the social interactions. Mitchell wraps up this line of thought with the specifics of his career:
What I like about being a comedian and performing in general is that there are occasions where you have to be energised and think and in certain situations be chatty – I’m trying to be chatty now. But you sort of know, while doing it, that that’s part of a certain discrete project and the when that project ends you can go back to being unfriendly and morose and quiet. You know, it’s nice to put on an ironed shirt and have a wash but it’s also nice not to have to be just generally ‘clean’
I remember saying to Wes once (when he was spending every day in silence on his own working on his PhD) that I often don’t want to socialise because I spend all day in meetings and talking or teaching and lecturing and being enthusiastic, and energised and trying to bring people along with me with their own ideas and energy and it’s exhausting. So, when I’m not doing that I just like to sit in quiet on my own. I guess it’s a similar thing.

Things I learned this week

  • I learned about the Royal Game of Ur which, when you think about the longevity of games (or even specific artefacts) is kind of remarkable. Invented in the early third millenia in Mesopotamia, spread across most of the Indo-European world and beyond up until late antiquity (500 AD-ish in Europe). I like the way the rules were learned; an astronomer from Babylon wrote a tablet to his Greek friends with a more complex variation on the game from which modern scholars were able to reverse engineer the standard rules. 
  • I really liked this article which is from a few years back but seems a bit ever green. Basically, people can say mean things, not because they're mean but that's just how we build social bonds. I deleted my 'small' (read: private) Twitter account a few years ago because I didn't like how mean it was. I don't like being mean to people who aren't in the room (not to say I can't be mean to people to their face) I didn't really learn anything there but it's a nice articulation of the vicious joy of being mean on the Internet.
x

Chat, Nivose, 228; Time has Eaten Me Again but Maybe Some of This Content will Satisfy You.

Is knowledge always a product of its technical constraints? Donald Knuth’s precise mathematical description of the letter ‘S’ owes its existence to the switch to papyrus and wax that enabled early Latin scribes to make curved shapes. Without that switch from carving stones to marking paper; no s, no Knuth on mathematics of typography. So what knowledge was lost because some arbitrary technical decision or necessity was bypassed? You see, I was doing really well at finding time to read articles and do bits of writing in the morning until the first week back at my real job, now I am back to being exhausted and frenetic, unable to concentrate on a single thing.

Common Design Studio

I’ve spoken to some folks about this but I suppose since we got some money it’s worth going a bit public. With my colleague Eva Verhoeven, I’m going to be working on a big design education project this year – Common Design Studio. This is a follow-up to the Global Design Studio that itself was a follow up to Interact, an exchange programme between LCC and some Australian counterparts. Global Design Studio was an online project with 60 students from three institutions around the world all working together for ten days. We wrote up the results of Global Design Studio into a paper and identified that one of the missed opportunities of online projects like this is that they could be done cheaper by maximising the use of resources where they were plentiful and giving more access to others where they weren’t and that they have the possibility to connect folks who may not normally have access to the institution. As a result the Common Design Studio is a proposal for a completely free, open online design learning project run out of LCC that anyone with a phone can join. This makes it sound deceptively simple but there are already hurdles.

Because the project is committed to transparency and freedom we are documenting everything online totally openly. I’m currently using a Trello board for this purpose which you can get to here. It contains all the important documents and will be populated with meeting notes and discussions as the project evolves. I’m not sure if it’s the most suitable thing but it allows for anyone to drop in and check it out which is what we’re aiming for. If you want to help out or have any ideas or references please also shoot them over.

Reading

I decided I don’t like Vanished Kingdoms and stopped reading it. I like my history with a bit of allegory and, frankly, a bit of narrative and the thing was getting quite a slog to read through, for instance in the case of Aragon, over a thousand years of names of Kings and what they did. Also, I didn’t realise when picking it up (despite being on the cover) that it focuses exclusively on European history which I’m already pretty au fait with and I was hoping to learn more about places I didn’t know so much about.

So, beyond revisiting a bunch of design research for the PhD (Routledge Companion to Research in the Arts, Cross’ Designerly Ways of Thinking, Frayling’s Research in Art and Design and Design Research Through Practice) I started to read A *New* Program for Graphic Design from David Reinfurt which so far has been brilliant. It's basically a book version of the lecture series and exercises he gives his students but all really well illustrated and paced. Because it's verbatim from a lecture it also has a conversational quality that makes it really engaging. I often thought that I should just write down my talks rather than try to be a smart writer and this one is winning me over. It's broken into three sections; Typography, Gestalt and Interface and these give a super interesting overview of histories and futures of design, computation, social change and psychology.

I also read On Nonscalability by Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing recommended by Anab Jain. It gives a remarkably accessible history of the scalability project and its eclipsing of the possibilities of diversity. Tsing draws a logical equivalence between the idea of the ‘pixel’ and something she calls the ‘nonsocial landscape elements’ or, ‘nonsoels.’ These are discrete units that allow for scalability. In her example, slaves from Africa and sugarcane clones. I read Tsing’s book a year or two ago and this paper helpfully includes a short version of that as an example of nonscalability.

Channel Recommendation

I can't stop thinking about how good Disco Elysium was. I can't and won't play it again but a lot of the soundtrack is on YouTube. It was all done by British Sea Power and has a wonderful horrifying melancholy to it. There's very little spoken dialogue in the game so the music sticks with you most.



Cormier, Brumaire, 228

I’ll confess to sinking more time into the Playstation than I should at the moment, something about these early dark evenings. I’ve decided to lay off Death Stranding until I’ve done a big chunk of other work I can reward myself with. Did you see that Valve announced a new Half-Life? But the thing is only going to be VR and probably on Steam's own platform? Millions of people hesitantly let out a sigh of relief they've been holding for 15 years this morning. Still it's a good technique to push us all into VR gaming.

decline.online is still working. Remarkably. I went to visit it to see how messed up it might be but most of it, apart from the Air Quality indexes, were all there. I’m going to spend some time at Christmas improving it, adding new data sources and figuring out a better scrolling mechanism.

WTF Targeting

I came across this fascinating targeted post on Instagram from a housing developer. I suppose the targeting is pretty easy to figure out: As a recent homeowner I’m still targeted by things related to a search history of someone who has recently bought a flat. The image falls easily into the remit of rendered development images we’re used to and isn’t anything particularly remarkable in that regard. It has that aesthetic that we might call ‘instructions to photons.’ From a distance it appears real enough but the execution is all wrong: As usual, the selection of render ghosts have light coming from different directions, the lack of contact shadows and ambient occlusion means they appear to float just in front of the image, they have no reflections in the glass. The textures on the black metal and paving slabs repeat too regularly and are too clean to be believable. It’s as if you’ve taught someone how light works really well but they’ve never visually experienced it.

I’m used to seeing these images and have talked about them quite extensively. To be honest, I find them remarkable in their unremarkableness. An aesthetic of rushed imperfection against the noisy ur-reality of CGI cinema has been normalised. However, I then read the text:

Join us in Chinatown for the launch of our brand new development on the 26th November. Chinese experts will be on hand 6pm-9pm. Discover more about life in an unrivalled, Zone 1 location. RSVP to confirm your place.

Well goddamnit if that isn’t the most remarkable little bit of marketing guff I’ve ever read. Let’s unpack the obvious errors and park some of the further questions they open up:

  1. Tottenham Court Road station is not in Chinatown. It’s arguable that it’s at the North-East corner, but even according to Chinatown’s own map, it’s nowhere near.
  2. The follow up question is then, why is Chinatown the point of appeal and not Soho which is geographically more proximate?
  3. So in that case what are ‘Chinese experts’? Are they Chinese folks who are experts in London or London folks (Chinese or otherwise) who are experts in Chinatown? And why would you need that?

Anyway, I'm in the midst of trying to do some digging to find answers. I spoke to Wes about it and suggested the text was fil-in-the-blanks algorithmically generated. He reckons it's just a bad intern and Instagram thinks I'm a Chinese oligarch. Either way, I figured the reason it struck me is it's basically spam mail. There's no attempt at sophistication or individuality. It's just a meaningless sentence that for one very specific group of people (that I'm clearly not in) will make sense. The transaction cost for the developer is so low that for every 10,000 people that see this, they just need 1 to click so they can afford to be completely nonsensical to 9,999 people.

Attitude, Formafantasma, Art and Deisgn.

I started reading Alice Rawsthorn’s Design as an Attitude at the weekend. I never read her columns but like anyone in design am deeply aware of her significant and positive impact in the field. The book seems to offer a pretty coherent overview for folks from design and perhaps even non-design fields of the shift from functional or decorative practice of the industrial eras to ‘attitudinal’ practice, drawing on Maholy-Nagy’s notion of design as contributing to social good and ‘being generally resourceful and inventive.’ It’s not pitched super high and it is littered with great historical and contemporary references so it’s definitely going on my student reading list.

However, something in it is making me uncomfortable; I often run into a problem with these texts, conversations and exhibitions where the sense of the subject doesn’t align to my own. Perhaps it’s where I sit at an intersection of media theory and media art and design ‘thinking’ and that needs some reconciling with design literature but to me Rawsthorn’s book (so far) draws heavily on the materialistic version of design that litters Salone, Clerkenwell Design Week, Dezeen newsletters and Instagram. She spends the opening chapters of this book exploring design's journey form the crafts to industrial production, through decoration and now into critical practice but with little reference to how the methods and intellectual frameworks have changed: From ceramics to machines to recycled furniture but with (so far) no reference of piecework, Fordism, cybernetics, ecological theory and even design thinking as the theories with which these practices were/are in dialogue.

To explore an example of this division, which reductively could be seen as a focus on practice at the cost of theory; almost every chapter (sometimes every page) in Rawsthorn’s book (so far) makes reference to Formafantasma. I have no particular issue with this apparently renowned studio I’d never heard of until about six months ago. I really like their work, I think it’s clever, challenging and insightful. However, in the long established discourses of critical technology and media studies I’ve been engaged with throughout my career they just don’t figure - not in exhibition, conversation or text despite their clever exploration of critical technological issues like e-waste. This isn’t in anyway to undermine the importance of their work but simply to say that there is a very apparent dissonance in orientating points which – looking at Formafantasma’s follower count – would imply it’s more my ignorance than anything else but nonetheless speaks of a design world that is not acknowledged in this book.

In the design world of Formafantasma's value often seems to be captured in the production rather than the process. What I mean here is that the object itself is the thing to be celebrated as a sort of idol of intellectual enquiry. Time and effort is invested in perfecting the aesthetics of a product to slide it into the high-end world of luxury design. This is a clever subversion but at the same time undermines the criticality of the work: The response is; ‘oh you made something beautiful and it says something’ rather than ‘oh you created knowledge which we can now use to improve the human condition.’ This fetishisation of design outcomes occludes the intellectual frameworks, varied, complex and contested though they are that design has birthed through an understand of materials and how these frameworks are applied elsewhere. It makes these designs remarkable and headline-worthy but the knowledge they produce unreachable.

Formafantasma's Ore Streams. Found with the caption 'formafantasma uses electronic waste to create office furniture concepts' on Designboom (2017)
Formafantasma’s work remains highly exclusive in its audience of European design students and bloggers. Take, for example, Ore Streams. It’s clear from first glance that the primary consideration is aesthetic. Clean, beautiful, viral aesthetics in concept furniture are a great way to bring people in to the ideas of the project, but the subject and issue is still beyond reach. It tells me nothing about what I can do about e-waste, no data about my devices or products or organisations I can go to. There are a series of interviews on the project's website with almost entirely white male academics and industry leaders prevaricating on the issues but no clear designerly guidance on how to improve the social condition that Rawsthorn stipulates in her introduction as the responsibility of design.

Going back to this idea of production versus process, Rawsthorn mentions Fixperts (now FixEd), another design-led organisation dealing with e-waste. However, rather than focussing on a high-end engagement with the boutique design world, Fixperts develop iterative policy, education and technical methods and interventions that engage ‘publics’ in a real way with e-waste. Again, Rawsthorn mentions these folks so it’s no criticism of the scope of her work, but Fixperts (so far) get none of the careful analysis of Formafantasma; their work is brushed over as simplistic and functional.

Again and again, I don’t want to criticise Rawsthorn’s excellent work here but there’s a mismatch in what design is in my perception. So far, the book has made little reference to the significant impact of service and policy design methods in impacting e-waste at governmental and corporate levels or the work of critical and investigative practitioners in unveiling and communicating systems which produce e-waste. I would argue that these processes are firstly much more ‘designerly’ in their approach of design as investigative and probing tools and secondly much more impactful than the work of Formafantasma.

Rawsthorn ends this chapter by glossing over the art/design argument. That's fine; I’m not particularly interested in this argument either. When it comes up I tend to dismiss it as I find the distinction relatively meaningless so I agree with her rhetorical question that ‘does it matter whether a piece of work that explores a theme equally adroitly is described as art or design?’ However, there’s an insistence at this point in the text that Formafantasma’s projects epitomise a design ‘attitude’ because they are functional and something is understood about design in their production. But this function and understanding is incredibly exclusive. Formafantasma themselves have begun to understand something of the design process in the production of their work but they’ve done a terrible job of communicating that understanding. A beautiful concept chair made from e-waste tells us nothing about the financial systems that perpetuate e-waste’s production nor does it provide a pragmatic, scalable solution, nor does it expose the means of its production. And their chair is functional only theoretically; I doubt they’d allow you to perch on it for a break while stomping around Salone for hours on end. Its function is a statement piece in the context of an incredibly wasteful luxury design industry. Ore Streams is an idol to Formafantasma’s own exclusive understanding of the work that bears little of the generosity and clarity of what I understand design to be. In this I would make the argument that it sits more firmly in the art camp - exclusive both physically and intellectually; requiring an aesthetic sophistication (read: level of understanding) in its audience to insinuate meaning and a physical proximity to examine.

I guess this leaves me looking at my own hands a bit. The work I’ve done in the last few years; Charismatic Megapigment for example, which I’m trying to figure out how to write about, is also exclusive. It can stand in for any of the art projects I’ve done recently; exclusive, elusive, intellectual. I’m quite open about this and I call it ‘art.’ I make these projects because I want to learn more about the technical and intellectual processes behind, in this instance, robotics, machine learning and working with a proper fine artist. I don’t consider it a communicative piece in the same way as a great piece of data visualisation or even a policy document – it’s not meant to be generous. This doesn’t relegate it or promote it above designerly practices but I certainly wouldn’t, in a discussion on designerly, publicly meaningful and impactful discourse on greenwashing, hold it up as an epitome, (except for selfish reasons).

Charismatic Megapigment draws on the same mechanics as Ore Streams for engagement with subject and audience and in the use of a designerly (read: inventive, resourceful, methodical) process for production, and maybe a handful of people were impacted by it, but that’s not what it’s for and I would feel uncomfortable pitching it that way.


Gee, thanks for getting this far

That was exhausting and still not quite right but perhaps has helped me untangle this knot of practice a bit. Even just a slight budge is good.


An Unintelligble Formality

'A formality is no less sacred for being unintelligible.'

In between other things I've been cracking through Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy.  It's not a hard read and I'd really recommend it, filled as it is with characters sinister, eccentric and melancholic in a world equal to them. More specifically this world is the crumbling castle of Gormenghast. In this sense the novels are microcosmic. The world is a stage as they say, and this world is Gormenghast and we can read into the various characters messages about our world. Fundamentally the book deals with change and the melancholic resistance to it. Gormenghast is steeped in tradition and ritual but all of them are meaningless. Every day, Sepulchrave, the ailing patriarch of the limited cast of characters, must perform curious, archaic rituals like scratching a moon on a certain door or looking at a certain thing at a certain time. Or walking a certain corridor. Or standing in one place for a few hours. This is watched over by the ever-attentive Master of Ritual, a role filled by various characters throughout the progress of the story, last of all the Machiavellian and malignantly elegant Steerpike (pictured).

Steerpike is our primary agent of change. It's here that the old, crumbling, unquestioned decay of the castle comes up against its first weevil of discord. Gormenghast, even as it has decayed over the centuries from whatever forgotten role it once had, is infinite. The very concept of change or rebellion is not only unthinkable, it simply doesn't exist. There is no alternative that a comparison could be drawn upon and desires formed and so the rituals continue. Gormenghast is an isolated island of timlessness. A begrudging melancholia seizes all the characters, ultimately they all work for the sake of it, for the ritual and because a formality is no less sacred for being unintelligible. 

There's something magnetic about this phrase that appears about three-quarters of the way through the first book - Titus Groan. It manages to convey a respect of the stubborn that seems somehow romantic. I'm not sure where Peake's ideological loyalties lie. It's clear that Steerpike and the other agents are the various insidious forces of change that gripped post-war Europe when the books were being written - Commintern most of all. Just before this phrase Steerpike waxes rhetoric on the importance of equality to bring fairness while absent-minedly picking the legs off a beetle in a clear and simple parody of the Stalinism gripping Eastern Europe. Yet here we are, as readers with sympathy only for the melancholic 'old guard' running though choreographed rituals of long forgotten meaning simply because they must be done. Because that is the law.


An obvious and equally seemingly pointless ritualistic culture to draw comparisons to would be the Pacific cargo cults. Here, island civilisations would attempt to recreate the airbases of the US military - planes, parades and all - in order to call back the gift of cargo and the supplies it brought. There are differing definitions here though. The cargo cults hope for a result. The rituals carry with them the hope of an answer from the 'other.' In Gormenghast, the meanings are forgotten, the rituals exist for their own sake. 

Some cargo cults are still running strong and it might be that as time progresses and technologically advanced civilisation penetrates these cultures deeper, they might maintain these archaic rituals while the meaning, the history, even the technology of planes and parades is forgotten and all that remains is the unintelligible formality.

We could even scale this up, The Near Future Laboratory have a couple of projects looking roundly at this but I'm interested in what happens further afield, in wider systems when something like say... the nation state just becomes an unintelligible formality which no one can remember what exactly it is for beyond its branding and history and these rituals continue ad infinitum.

Sum ego sic dico...

A Mars-Sized Planetary Collision

I'm still only 3/32nd's of the way through Jaron Lanier's new 'Who Owns The Future?' I remember the profound effect of You Are Not A Gadget with fondness. It was something of an eye opener and I'm hoping that this new one has that same initially radicalising and rant-inducing effect before it's content gradually settle s onto a reformed path.

It's also a shame that I only got round to reading it AFTER finishing Mercenary Cubiclists as there's a lot of crossover. There's an unsettling fracas between capitalism and the digital world and we're starting to realise with key signals like Facebook's disastrous public offerings and increasing floundering to try and monetise, the Bitcoin bubble and our data value that the model we want and the model we have don't sit together and sacrifices will have to be made.


A nice and dramatic analogy would be something like the Giant Impact Hypothesis. The Earth is our socioeconomic habitat starting to discover, apropos to climate change, that there are fundamental flaws in the system that perhaps can't be consciously corrected. The Mars-sized rock suddenly in collision and causing a lot of general unpleasantness is the digital social-politique, raised on the back of Randian dreams that never came to fruition and quietly filter bubbling away relatively unaware of its repercussions.

What then of the moon? That little body that revolves around us tugging at seas and turning people into wolves? The shadow market; Tor-enabled transnational illegalities fueled by the digital currencies and human love of vices?  Or perhaps the fabled 1%; enabled by technology, the elite circling over our heads blissfully careless of the tug they inflict on our lives, how much we need it and how much we fear it.

Either way it's going to be a period of flux and fiery gravitational instability before some sort of behavioral pattern is reached where it's possible for these three bodies to live together. Whatever form the moon takes, we will eventually find a way to reconcile the digital world with the system we live in. If we cannot then Lanier's nightmare of a 0.00001% of server-controllers resulting from the dialectic might come true and we'll have two killer moons to contend with.

Weeknotes 5

Happy new year! Weeknotes are supposed to be EVERY week technically. But it was the holidays so this is more a sort of 'weeksnotes' of things I haven't done anything about. 


Pulp Sci-Fi and Mad Scientists

iO9 has been publishing a series of articles on science fiction in totalitarian contexts. Probably the longest articles ever published by iO9. Of particular interest was the one on Japan. My MA dissertation was a study of fiction under dystopias and totalitarian systems and how these were represented in the fictions. Japan's military was of course responsible for some horrific 'medical' experiments during the Second World War on prisoners of war and Chinese citizens, the research of which was claimed by US big pharma in the aftermath. It's strange then that the section on 'Evil Surgeons and Mad Scientists' only brushes over this connection, referring back to Wellsian links to Dr Moreau and so on.

This brought to mind two of my all time favourite 'novllettes' which are by no menas 'pulp'.  Firstly, Adolfo Bioy Casares' The Invention of Morel. Morel is a clear take off the Island of Dr Moreau but features computers that can holographically replay history as the evil of invention and an increasingly paranoid escapee as the witness - his horror and fears informed by the machinations of machines rather than living tissue. 

Referring back to living tissue, Bulgakov's Heart of a Dog (sometimes Dog's Heart) is a lesser known satire by the writer of The Master and Margarita in which a master surgeon implants the heart and glands of a dog into a minor criminal who proceeds to become the ideal communist. A political satire acted out through the widening doors of eugenic technology that marked the era.


Hackers and Sexism

I'm not really as savvy on hacker and maker culture as I should be. Though both are linked and important modern movements that exercise personal freedom through technology in an age of tightening systematic controls, I fear studying them for they fall into the 'experts' category. Much like tattoo artists or lens grinders, they know so much about their own field that it's hard to dip one's toe in to test the water without either having it ripped off or being dragged under.

One thing that does keep surfacing (and perhaps has marked the entirety of 2012) was the issue of sex in these cultures. In a moving and compelling post, Asher Wolf, a key player in the hacker community posted about her disdain at the rampant sexism and abuse that women suffer. This isn't the first time this has come up gamer culture suffers an awfully similar and at time, more pronounced problem.

If these invigorated 'geek' cultures are to be future industry and social leaders then they need to consider how their social attitudes might belie their forward thinking.

ALSO

Check out this review of Makers at the Guardian. It's important to note when talking about these cultures that more often than not, the optimistic potential far outweighs the actual reality of these cultures integrating with the real world in reporting them.  I had the exact same problem with David Wolman's End of Money. Lot's of wistful talk of a cashless future without dealing with the realities of the expense of digital infrastructure, how culturally and socially vital cash is and with almost no economic theory. Perhaps this is an endemic problem with techies writing about social change.


Dark Knight Sins

I really love Dark Knight Rises but, apart from not noticing the randomly falling over guys, here's a breakdown of what I also agree was wrong. (They should just call this Suspension of Disbelief Counteraction)




2012 and Rape

For a lot of people 2012 was a year when rape came to the forefront of political debate. Even in the UK, the issue of abortion briefly surfaced and a row with the Church over female bishops prompted him to pipe up with the immortal 'get with the programme.' And yet it was in the US where the presidential debate sealed world opinion that American social attitudes were decades behind the rest of the 'developed' world with repeated blunders and idiocy from public figures.

Following their election loss, I was concerned that the Republican party might rally deeper behind it's extreme elements, citing Romney as too moderate - as evidenced by his constant swinging and u-turning - and further divide the political spectrum, potentially deepening the flaws in the two-party democracy. Luckily it looks like I was wrong.  

In India, the issue is gaining traction, I read an article about it some time earlier in the year and now with the horrible case garnering mainstream media attention, the issue of women's rights in developing nations is finally coming to the fore. Even the Arab Spring was marred by stories of journalists being raped and assaulted.

And again in the US, the issue of prisons, something which I really want to broach at some point, and the endemic rape that happens there is beginning to come into focus following a series of articles throughout the year (again, I've lost them all.) Listen to this though for some cracking journalism.


Fiscal Cliffs

The near-mythic 'fiscal cliff' provided another opportunity for the election's bitter losers to emulate the temper tantrums of a five year old in the eyes of the world.The fiscal cliff is a long and childish story of coincidences and brow beating that still isn't over and we'll see brought back to life in the next few months. This article probably provides the most interesting coverage. Anything else is party-posturing. 


Little Things

List of '10' codes as popularised by US police dramas but no longer in use due to gross inefficency. Still, if you need to send some discrete signals...

The Guardian, who's journalism I become more and more despairing over, has another article where a potent question - What does a world without work look like? - is asked but never answered let alone conjectured upon and the author uses the whole tract to have a go at government cuts.


Looking For

Someone who can talk to me about Coasean economics (desperately.)

Survival in Suburbia through The Hollywood Lens

In Douglas’s circles, people talk about “the end of the world as we know it” with such regularity that the acronym Teotwawki (tee-ought-wah-kee) has come into widespread use.
There's a post on the New York Times Magazine website about the new mainstream strain of survivalism amongst suburban Americans. The article outlines how the survivalist 'cult' - for want of a better term - has spread beyond right-wing 'nuts' and secessionists looking for conspiracy in the world order and into the suburban way of life. 
He doesn’t have a mountain stronghold or a 20-acre spread. He doesn’t have a bunker or anything resembling a barn. Instead, he, his wife, Heather, and their six children, ages 4 to 16, inhabit a typical American suburban home
There's a lot to be read into this, in particular the nature of the hero of the piece - a suburbanite called Douglas who runs an expo and web resource of survivalist info. With the financial siege being inflicted against America's suburban middle class it's not a hard leap to see how Douglas might suddenly have a very visceral grasp of the apocalypse striking his home town and it's a view that is made clear as something now not uncommon amongst his own class. But the survivalist movement, as it was called at around the time of the Millennium Bug paranoia and Obama's 2008 election, is now more generally called the 'preparedness' movement. This notional semantic shift from a lifestyle currently under threat and to be defended with barbed wire, attack dogs and paranoid nationalism to an impeding and unstoppable threat, again, speaks volumes about the nature of this 'threat'.

'Prepareds' are notably hazy about what the threat is. We could read into the idea that the first survivalists were born out of the Cold War fear of MAD and just continued to latch onto whatever they could - technology, liberalism, Islam - as a way of continuing an increasingly secluded lifestyle. The 'prepareds' on the other hand don't see their lifestyle as under threat currently - living as they do in normal homes rather than castles - but fear that a threat is coming and that they must be prepared for it. 

To draw a brief comparison, one of the most praiseworthy parts of Max Brooks peerless apocalyptic fiction, World War Z, was the study of suburban America's reaction to the apocalyptic crisis gripping the world. With half of the rest of humanity wiped out, the coddled suburbanites had desensitised their fate, putting misguided faith in the American way of life to overcome any obstacle. They literally refuse to even pay lip service to the idea of global catastrophe until it is quite literally smashing through the French windows and ripping their children in half. (pardon the lengthy extract)
Oh yeah, I was worried, I was worried about my car payments and Tim's business loan. I was worried about that widening crack in the pool and the new nonchlorinated filter that still left an algae film. I was worried about our portfolio, even though my e-broker assured me this was just first-time investor jitters and that it was much more profitable than a standard 40l(k). Aiden needed a math tutor, Jenna needed just the right Jamie Lynn Spears cleats for soccer camp. Tim's parents were thinking of coming to stay with us for Christmas. My brother was back in rehab. Finley had worms, one of the fish had some kind of fungus growing out of its left eye. These were just some of my worries. I had more than enough to keep me busy. 

Did you watch the news? 

Yeah, for about five minutes every day: local headlines, sports, celebrity gossip. Why would I want to get depressed by watching TV? I could do that just by stepping on the scale every morning.

What about other sources? Radio?


Morning drive time. That was my Zen hour. After the kids were dropped off, I'd listen to [name withheld for legal reasons). His jokes helped me get through the day.
 

What about the Internet?

What about it? For me, it was shopping; for Jenna, it was homework; for Tim, it was . . . stuff he kept swearing he'd never look at again. The only news I ever saw was what popped up on my AOL welcome page.


At work, there must have been some discussion . . .


Oh yeah, at first. It was kinda scary, kinda weird, "you know I hear it's not really rabies" and stuff like that. But then that first winter things died down, remember, and anyway, it was a lot more fun to rehash last night's episode of Celebrity Fat Camp or totally bitch out whoever wasn't in the break room at that moment.
One time, around March or April, I came into work and found Mrs. Ruiz clearing out her desk. I thought she was being downsized or maybe outsourced, you know, something I considered a real threat. She explained that it was "them," that's how she always referred to it, "them" or "everything that's happening." She said that her family'd already sold their house and were buying a cabin up near Fort Yukon, Alaska. I thought that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard, especially from someone like Inez. She wasn't one of the ignorant ones, she was a "clean" Mexican. I'm sorry to use that term, but that was how I thought back then, that was who I was.


Did your husband ever show any concern?


No, but the kids did, not verbally, or consciously, I think. Jenna started getting into fights. Aiden wouldn't go to sleep unless we left the lights on. Little things like that. I don't think they were exposed to any more information than Tim or I, but maybe they didn't have the adult distractions to shut it out.


How did you and your husband respond?


Zoloft and Ritalin SR for Aiden, and Adderall XR for Jenna. It did the trick for a while. The only thing that pissed me off was that our insurance didn't cover it because the kids were already on Phalanx.
If the Times article is anything to go by it seems that a significant minority of the suburban populace might actually be ready to pick up tools and tackle the threat instead of the traditional American reliance on anti-depressants. Just take a glance at the part marketing, part tongue-in-cheek Gerber Apocalypse Survival Kit or in fact just Google search for 'apocalypse survival kit' - the price tags some of these kits carry imply more than just rampant marketing and fanboyism. 

Of course there's no doubt that commercialism will always steal some part of the public and cultural conscience to sell back to it, but this tie between TV and film production and a very American apocalypse goes deeper - it's a feedback process. Since the end of the Cold War, there has been an explosion of US film and TV work speculating on an apocalyptic America that has accelerated with every successive crisis. This explosion hasn't been seen in such nationalist drive since the explosion of British dystopian literature in the first half of the twentieth century. Zombie and monster dirges such as The Walking Dead, I Am Legend and The Mist (though adaptations) lend a weight to the zombie ending (still somewhat comical) but take it away from the teenage fear-mongering of Day of The Dead and co. and into an impression of the life and moral struggles of a zombie apocalypse. Others - Blindness, 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, Children Of Men, even Wall-E take broader but more human-led paths to destruction while being box-office hits. We only in fact need to look at the Wikipedia list of apocalyptic films almost double over the 90s to 00s decades.

This is now the lens through which the 'prepareds' see the endtimes as coming. Not through a red scare or a liberal conspiracy as popularised in the literature of the Cold War and Bush years but in a very level-playing-field human based natural end. As Douglas himself says:
...since Sandy, Douglas has been considering putting on an expo in New York or New Jersey. “This is exactly what we’re trying to prepare people for,” he told me. “Everybody talks about doomsday, the end of the world — apocalypse nonsense. This is New York’s doomsday right now.”
They may still tread carefully around environmentalism, and the article never once mentions global warming or natural disaster, only ever referring to a vague sense of 'what's coming.' But the idea of natural disaster is seeping into popular conscience through film and TV and the response is being prepared in the same way. 

This new form of survivalism could be read as being the right-wing response to the environmentalist movement. Less of the emphasis is placed on the science and the politicians as 'big government liberals' see as the main path to global warming, but the same 'each man for himself' onus of the right is put on surviving the 'coming global catastrophe.' Whether this interpretation and response is right or wrong is largely irrelevant because both forms of response engage the same issues. One of the interviewees is the owner of Sun Ovens who make solar-powered ovens:
“I refinanced my home three different times just to eat,” Munsen says. But in time, business began to improve, thanks in part to Barack Obama’s presidential victory four years ago, which alarmed many on the right worried about everything from his economic policies to his middle name. “The day after the election was one of the best sales days we ever had,” Munsen says. “Some people were just so upset about the election that they said, ‘We had better be prepared.’ ”

Year Of The Flood

 

Year Of The Flood is the direct sequel to Atwood's Oryx and Crake, one of those core texts of biological science fiction. In the original we see the lead up to a virus-led apocalypse through the eyes of Jimmy aka Snowman and his friendship with Glenn aka Oryx and their joint infatuation with Crake. In this one the shift is away form the main characters and onto some of the supporting cast. We follow the Gods Gardners - a nonviolent environmental cult - as they prepare for the 'flood' that will wipe out all mankind and follow a few of the main characters involved. 

There's not so much of a focus on science and responsibility in Year of The Flood as there is on consumerism, religion and man's place in the world. And of course it suffers because, essentially, you already know what's happened and what's going to happen if you read Oryx and Crake. There are still twists and surprises but the action feels muted without the powerful characters of the first part and sometimes it seems that most of the shock is in the vivid descriptions of the brutal underworld in Atwood's dystopia.

There's supposed to be a third part coming out soon and I guess we'll have to see if that completes the story in some way or simply adds another dimension that we can read into it. Most of the story of Year of The Flood was driven by the machinations and troubles of the leading characters and very little was done to actually add further substance to the world that Atwood created beyond a little more exposition of life in the 'pleebs.' However, I don't know how much more could be done to the world without over-saturating it - the awkward portmanteaus that serve as company names and the almost comic violence has reached an undeniable and explicit peak here.

The Second World War


I picked up Anthony Beevor's Stalingrad in a charity bookshop a few years ago and spent about a week experiencing the shock and awe that Operation Desert Storm never quite got together. Part of that was Beevor's sheer ability to present anecdotes and analysis side by side with recorded facts without the story becoming jumpy or in fact leaving the realm of story and entering the worlds of either Top Trumps or a trainspotting mentality of weaponry and troop movements. 

Regrettably, on average the entire Second World War involved more troops being moved around than the battle of Stalingrad alone - with the battle of Stalingrad still being perhaps the most horrific clash of the entire affair. So a lot of Beevor's new book on the 1931 - 1945 world conflict (he makes the convincing argument that the Invasion of Manchuria was the true beginning of events) DOES involve countless and untraceable divisions and army numbers and the names of the Polish villages they're in / leaving / going to which can become dizzying if you decide to mentally trace these movements by and large without the use of any maps (a big oversight in such a story.)

No, if you read this colossal volume just skim over the lists of movements as the framework around which Beevor hangs the horror and intrigue of the war. 

It truly is fucking horrific. There is simply no other word. We all know the imagery of D-Day, perhaps Dresden and of course the stories of the Holocaust but it's the hidden and lesser known stories that were perhaps to terrifying to make it seventy years in public conscience. The rampant cannibalism from the Japanese army - just the general insanity of the Japanese army actually, quite probably more perverse in their ideology and more extreme in their methods than the Nazis. The en mass rape committed by the Red Army - even of their own liberated female POWs and then the fact that most of them were banished as traitors on return at the risk that word of the riches of Europe spread. The appalling suffering of the people of eastern Europe, first persecuted by Nazis then the USSR and the Chinese taking the same place in the eastern world. The anecdotes of individuals and stories from journalists like Solzhenitsyn suddenly make it real, I realised before the end that death and the prospect of extreme pain was a part of life for six years for most of the world's population.

Above the curdling terror that Beevor portrays is the political intrigue - the stubbornness of Churchill and De Gaulle and the cosiness of Roosevelt and Stalin. It's interesting to think that Roosevelt's biggest post-war concern was British imperialism, not communism. The warring tactics of generals trying to adapt to new technology and a new scale of death were responsible for some of the most flippant losses, including the British policy of blanket bombing cities. 

I can't really recommend this book, that would be irresponsible - you have to want to know the depths that civilisation is willing to plum and that requires an inner demand, not the recognition of others. It's probably for your own benefit that it's too big to carry anywhere.