Showing posts with label media. Show all posts
Showing posts with label media. Show all posts

On the Occupy Wall Street ‘media blackout’

by Nathan Schneider 
 
(Credit: Wagingnonviolence.org) 
(Credit: Wagingnonviolence.org)

Among those part of and concerned with the Occupy Wall Street movement, it’s very common to hear complaints about the lack of mainstream media coverage. There’s even a sign at the occupation’s media center that says, “Welcome to the media blackout.”


To a large extent, the blackout is real. The New York Times and other local papers didn’t give the movement headlines until almost a week in, with the exception of a cover story in Metro that first Wednesday. And, while several local TV stations were at Liberty Plaza during the first week, their reports weren’t being picked up by national affiliates. Only recently has this begun to change.

Online, there have been accusations of outright censorship. Yahoo has admitted to “not intentional” blocking of emails with links to occupywallst.org, blaming their spam filter. (This excuse is not widely believed, but plausible—I’ve seen the site trigger non-Yahoo spam filters as well.) Twitter has similarly blocked #occupywallstreet from being listed as a trending topic. (This may be because it keeps being throttled by Anonymous bots—or, more conspiratorially, because a considerable stake in the company is owned by JPMorgan Chase, which also just donated $4.5 million to the NYPD.)

Really, though, what do you expect? Resistance movements should not count on coverage by establishment news outlets, much less favorable coverage. Mainstream media are usually a part of a movement’s opponent, and they certainly are in this case. The movement’s job, then, is to make its actions so irresistible that the media have to cover it, despite themselves. In an instructive essay about her experience doing media relations during the fight for civil rights in the 1960s, Mary King writes:
[A]ttentive news coverage can never be taken for granted or assumed. It must be won. Gaining the attention of the news industry is one of the central functions that must be planned by a nonviolent movement that hopes to succeed.
In this respect, Occupy Wall Street is already succeeding.

These protests, it must be recognized, are getting much more coverage than any other protest in recent years (with the exception of ones held by the well-funded Tea Party), including ones involving far more people. Like unions, celebrities, police, and many would-be participants, though, it took some time for the media to begin to recognize that something of substance is taking place. By definition, the establishmentarian mainstream media will always be slow to react to a dynamic grassroots movement. That this is the case here could even be a good sign for the movement’s long-term prospects.

Part of the blame for poor coverage, too, lies in the movement’s own media strategy, or lack thereof. From the outset, its organizers have focused primarily on creating their own media—just as Gandhi did during the Indian liberation struggle, and as so many other movements have since. The occupiers do this very well, with a (theoretically) 24-hour livestream, a newspaper, websites, and more. Meanwhile, many organizers have purposely avoided contact with mainstream media outlets, and no plan was in place at first for how to deal with them should they arrive.

Reporters—with the sole exception of me, after a lengthy discussion on the matter—were asked not to be present at the planning meetings before September 17. For the first week of the occupation, media relations was being overseen largely by one valiant but overworked college student with no previous experience in it (plus a probably-counterproductive onslaught of Twitter mentions directed against news services who failed to give coverage). Wire services weren’t being informed about upcoming events. Those reporters who did show up at the plaza were left to wander, without guidance about whom to interview or what was going on.

This is changing. Several older people with experience in media relations have joined on to help, as well as more skilled young people. Now there’s an email list, a calendar, a workflow, and the wisdom gained from a few mistakes—such as, for instance, Friday’s Radiohead concert debacle, which appears to have been the work of a rogue prankster. So there’s hope.

Something changed over the course of last Monday, for instance, at least in the heads of the species of made-up, spotlessly-dressed television news reporters who were swarming among the dirty and battle-worn protesters. In the morning—and their trucks were out bright and early—the reporters were after one thing and one thing only: the pepper-sprayed girls. A mere witness wouldn’t do, Mr. Channel 7 told me, gravely. His journalistic integrity forbade it. He had to have one of those poor girls, caught on by-then viral video, who had been pepper-sprayed with no apparent provocation by the NYPD’s notorious Deputy Inspector Anthony Bologna.

By afternoon, though, their attention shifted. Maybe it was because the sole pepper-sprayed girl who had been around that morning left. Maybe it was already old news. But then the questions they asked started getting more interesting. Instead of gory details, they finally began asking just what exactly all these people were doing in rechristened Liberty Plaza. And, after getting bored of asking sign holders “Why are you here?” and ogling at the generator-powered media center, they even became curious about the all-important General Assembly meetings.

They’ll probably never really get it, but, with time and help, they’ll get better. No mainstream news report, though, will ever substitute for seeing the occupation for yourself.


Nathan Schneider is an editor for the Waging Nonviolence website. He writes about religion, reason, and violence for publications including The Nation, The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Commonweal, Religion Dispatches, The American Prospect, and others. He is also an editor at Killing the Buddha. Visit his website at TheRowBoat.com.

Original article available here

Judith Butler - Media Death - Frames of War

Power, Nina. Media Death - Frames of War. The Books Interview: Judith Butler. New Statesman. August 27, 2009. Short version. and August 30, 2009. Original version.


Nina Power: You've just been awarded $1.5 million to found a "Thinking Critically About War" centre at Berkeley. Tell me what kind of work you hope to do there.

Judith Butler: I hope to be able to help organize faculty and students to think together about the changing character of war and conflict and what that implies about critical intellectual positions. Wars no longer take the same form and do not always rely, for instance, on the integrity of nation-states.

The methods and tactics have also changed. How does one formulate a politically responsible criticism of war in the midst of this changing terrain. My hope to is to fund some conferences and fellowships dedicated to these sorts of questions.

Nina Power: In your recent Frames of War you continue some of the work you did in Precarious Life (2004) concerning the representability of life and death. How do you see the link between the two books?

Judith Butler: Well, I think that even though "life" was in the title of Precarious Life, I did not think about it as carefully as I should have. The first book considers questions of public culture and censorship in the aftermath of 9/11, but the second is more concerned with questions of torture and how we conceive of the human body as injurable. I think the second text goes further in trying to think about the kinds of obligations we might have on the basis of our anonymous exposure to others. I hope that it also spells out some ethical and political implications of what it means to be "precarious."

Nina Power: One of the first things a child learns about death, it seems to me, is that the death of a countryman or woman is more important in media terms than the death of someone elsewhere, which we might not even get to hear about. How do you understand the relationship between nationalism, death and the media?

Judith Butler: Yes, I suppose some children do learn this. But it may be possible to learn death first through the media as the death of strangers. I am wondering, for instance, about some of us who were young children during the war in Vietnam. Our first exposure to death may have been from photojournalism. Still, there is a question about whether we regard as valuable and grievable those lives that are closest to us or which readily conform to local and national norms of recognition. In other words, lives that are more readily "recognizable" tend to be regarded as more worthy and more "grievable." I don't think we have to have a personal relation to a life lost to understand that something terrible has taken place, especially in the context of war. In order to become open to offering that sort of acknowledgement, however, we have to come up against the limit of the cultural frames in which we live. In a way, we have to let those frames get interrupted by other frames.

Nina Power: The notion of 'frames' is a very useful one for understanding how lives come to count or be represented, and in Frames of War you do interesting work on the question of photography. The US government has recently lifted a ban on showing photographs of coffins at the same time as the Obama administration has vetoed the release of more torture photographs from Iraq. What do you think these two rulings indicate about how we 'frame' war, or how war is allowed to be understood?

Judith Butler: I think that even in the Obama administration there is the fear that explicit photographs of torture or death will portray the nation in a bad light or possibly turn national or international sentiment against the US. I find this a very peculiar kind of argument since it values how we are seen more highly than whether we are seen in a truthful way. Obama basically claims that it is his job to present a likable picture of the US, but I think that the responsiblity to the national and global public actually is more important than this rather weak imperative. The rulings do confirm that frames are powerful. We saw that already in embedded reporting, and we continue to see it in the censorship of war photography and even poetry from Guantanamo.

Nina Power: You touch upon the question of abortion in your discussion of how we value 'precarious' or 'greivable' lives. 'Life' is an extremely contested term, as you say. How do you understand some of the difficulties attached to this word in the context of the way it has been mobilised, for example by the Christian right in America?

Judith Butler: Yes, of course. But my sense is that the Left has to "reclaim" the discourse of life, especially if we hope to come up with significant analyses of biopolitics, and if we are to be able to clarify under what conditions the loss of life is unjustifiable. These means arguing against those who oppose abortion and making clear in what sense the "life" we defend against war is not the same as the "life" of the foetus. I don't know whether one can be a nominalist about life, since there are so many instances of living processes and beings. We have to enter into this complex array of problems, which means as well that social theory has to become more knowledgeable about debates in the life sciences.

Nina Power: To the horror of many on the left, feminism and (to a lesser extent) gay rights were invoked as democratic values in the case for war in Afghanistan and Iraq ('freeing' women from the burka, for example). How do you understand the contemporary relationship between feminism (and gay rights) and war?

Judith Butler: There are at least two problems here. The one has to do with the sudden instrumentalization of "gay rights" or "women's rights" to fight the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, a move that suggests that we are actually fighting a culture, a religion, or an entire social structure rather than a particular state or its government. The notions of emancipation instrumentalized for such purposes are clearly imperialist, and assume that liberation means adopting certain kinds of cultural norms as the most valuable. But this argument is really treacherous in my view, since it overrides the actual political movements already underway in such countries that are working out specific political vocabularies and claims for rethinking gender, sexuality, and domination.

The second problem is that lesbian/gay rights, and the rights of sexual minorities, need to join with feminist, anti-racist, and anti-war movements and are, in many instances, already joined together. There is no bonafide feminism, for instance, that is not also anti-racist. Similarly, there is no struggle for the rights of sexual minorities that is worthy of the name that does not affirm the cultural diversity of sexual minorities. Further, it is important to understand "minoritization" strategies as effecting both sexual and religious minorities - another reason why complex alliances are crucial.

Nina Power: Sometimes, as in the case of the recent Iranian protests, a particular death (that of Neda Agha-Soltan) is captured, disseminated and comes to stand in for a larger horror. Can we separate popular use of media channels (Twitter, YouTube, blogs) from more entrenched, hierarchical forms (state media, newspapers)? How might these new kinds of 'frames' transform our understanding of conflict in the future?

Judith Butler: Of course, this is the key question. I think it is probably inevitable that certain iconic images emerge in the midst of these conflicts, and they can, as we saw, be very powerful in mobilizing popular resistance to a regime. But what was most interesting to me here was the way that mainstream media became dependent on twitter and on hand-held phones to relay video from street demonstrations. It was not that "twitter" and cell phone videos were "alternative" media that showed a different picture from what appeared in dominant media venues. On the contrary, these internet based media became the basis for the dominant media image, and there was no other alternative under conditions when foreign media was barred, as it still is, from Iran. So are we actually seeing the emergence of hybrid media and, as a result, a certain wild region of "source material" and "corroboration." Perhaps this fragmentation and hybrdization will allow for different perspectives - at least until some corporation figures out how best to "own" it all.

Screening Thought: Slavoj Zizek and Paul Taylor



Continental philosopher Slavoj Žižek and Paul A. Taylor (author of Žižek and The Media) explore the difficulty of conveying philosophical ideas within today's media.

The Merchants of Cool (2001) - documentary film



They are the merchants of cool: creators and sellers of popular culture who have made teenagers the hottest consumer demographic in America. But are they simply reflecting teen desires or have they begun to manufacture those desires in a bid to secure this lucrative market? And have they gone too far in their attempts to reach the hearts--and wallets--of America's youth?

FRONTLINE correspondent Douglas Rushkoff examines the tactics, techniques, and cultural ramifications of these marketing moguls in "The Merchants of Cool." Produced by Barak Goodman and Rachel Dretzin, the program talks with top marketers, media executives and cultural/media critics, and explores the symbiotic relationship between the media and today's teens, as each looks to the other for their identity.

Teenagers are the hottest consumer demographic in America. At 33 million strong, they comprise the largest generation of teens America has ever seen--larger, even, than the much-ballyhooed Baby Boom generation. Last year, America's teens spent $100 billion, while influencing their parents' spending to the tune of another $50 billion.

But marketing to teens isn't as easy as it sounds. Marketers have to find a way to seem real: true to the lives and attitudes of teenagers; in short, to become cool themselves. To that end, they search out the next cool thing and have adopted an almost anthropological approach to studying teens and analyzing their every move as if they were animals in the wild.

Take MTV. Long considered to be the arbiter of teen cool, the late 1990s saw MTV's ratings on the wane. To counter the slide, MTV embarked on a major teen research campaign, the hallmark of which was its "ethnography study"-- visiting teens' homes to view first hand their lives, interests and ask some quite personal questions.

But what lessons do MTV and other companies draw from this exhaustive and expensive study of teenagers' lives? Does it result in a more nuanced portrait of the American teen? In "The Merchants of Cool," FRONTLINE introduces viewers to the "mook" and the "midriff" -- the stock characters that MTV and others have resorted to in order to hook the teen consumer.

The "midriff"--the character pitched at teenage girls, is the highly-sexualized, world-weary sophisticate that increasingly populates television shows such as Dawson's Creek and films such as Cruel Intentions. Even more appealing to marketers is the "midriff's" male counterpart, the "mook." Characterized mainly by his infantile, boorish behavior, the "mook" is a perpetual adolescent: crude, misogynistic--and very, very, angry.

But also very lucrative. To appeal to the "mook," MTV has created programs such as Spring Break -- a televised version of teen beach debauchery--as well as a weekly program capitalizing on the current wrestling craze.

"What this system does is it closely studies the young, keeps them under constant surveillance to figure out what will push their buttons," says media critic Mark Crispin Miller. "And it blares it back at them relentlessly and everywhere."

Of course, there is resistance to the commercial machine. FRONTLINE takes viewers to downtown Detroit, where media analyst Rushkoff speaks with teens at a concert by the Detroit-based Insane Clown Posse, purveyors of a genre of music that's become known as "rage rock." When asked to describe what appeals to them about such music, the teens invariably respond that it belongs to them; it hasn't yet been taken and sold back to them at the mall. Full of profanity, violence, and misogyny, rage rock is literally a challenge thrown up to marketers: just try to market this!

But marketers have accepted the challenge: rage rock is now big business. Not only has Insane Clown Posse become mainstream, but much bigger acts like Eminem and Limp Bizkit are breaking sales records and winning industry accolades in the form of Grammy nominations and other mainstream music awards.

In "The Merchants of Cool," correspondent Rushkoff details how MTV and other huge commercial outlets orchestrated the rise of Limp Bizkit--despite the group's objectionable lyrics--and then relentlessly promoted them on-air.

But in doing so, critics ask, is MTV truly reflecting the desires of today's teenagers, or are they stoking a cultural infatuation with music and imagery that glorifies violence and sex as well as antisocial behavior and attitudes?

In today's media-saturated environment, such questions, it seems, are becoming increasingly difficult to answer.

"It's one enclosed feedback loop," Rushkoff says. "Kids' culture and media culture are now one and the same, and it becomes impossible to tell which came first--the anger or the marketing of the anger."
Therein lies the danger of today's teen-driven economy, observers say: As everyone from record promoters to TV executives to movie producers besieges today's teens with pseudo-authentic marketing pitches, teenagers increasingly look to the media to provide them with a ready-made identity predicated on today's version of what's cool. Rather than empowering youngsters, the incessant focus on their wants and desires leaves them adrift in a sea of conflicting marketing messages.

"Kids feel frustrated and lonely today because they are encouraged to feel that way," Miller tells FRONTLINE. "You know, advertising has always sold anxiety and it certainly sells anxiety to the young. It's always telling them that they are not thin enough, they're not pretty enough, they don't have the right friends, or they have no friends...they're losers unless they're cool. But I don't think anybody, deep down, really feels cool enough, ever."

And as more and more teens look to the media to define what they should think and how they should behave, even some cool hunters are no longer sure that their work isn't having a negative impact.
"Even though I work at MTV...I am starting to see the world more like someone who's approaching forty than someone who's twenty," says Brian Graden, the channel's president of programming. "And I can't help but be worried that we are throwing so much at young adults so fast. And that there is no amount of preparation or education or even love that you could give a child to be ready."




Barak Goodman, USA, English, 2001, 55 min.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0279224/
http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/cool/

Watch online:

Steal This Film I (2006)


 Part One, shot in Sweden and released in August 2006 combines accounts from prominent players in the Swedish piracy culture (The Pirate Bay, Piratbyrån, and the Pirate Party) with found material, propaganda-like slogans and Vox Pops.

It includes interviews with Pirate Bay members Fredrik Neij (tiamo), Gottfrid Svartholm (anakata) and Peter Sunde (brokep) that were later re-used by agreement in the documentary film Good Copy Bad Copy, as well as with Piratbyrån members Rasmus Fleischer (rsms), Johan (krignell) and Sara Andersson (fraux).

The film is notable for its critical analysis of an alleged regulatory capture attempt performed by the Hollywood film lobby to leverage economic sanctions by the United States government on Sweden through the WTO. Alleged aims included the application of pressure to Swedish police into conducting a search and seizure against Swedish law for the purpose of disrupting The Pirate Bay's BitTorrent tracker.

The Guardian Newspaper called it 'at heart a traditionally-structured "talking heads" documentary' with 'amusing stylings' from film-makers who 'practice what they preach.' Screened at the British Film Institute and numerous independent international events, Steal This Film One was a talking point in 2007's British Documentary Film Festival. In January 2008 it was featured on BBC Radio 4's Today Programme, in a discussion piece which explored the implications of P2P for traditional media.

Trailer:
http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi1361511705/

Torrent:


Download Ipod version:
http://www.stealthisfilm.com/Part1/torrent/StealThisFilm.Part1.iPod.torrent

Download DVD version:
http://www.stealthisfilm.com/Part1/torrent/StealThisFilm.Part1.DVD.torrent

Download xvid version:
http://www.stealthisfilm.com/Part1/torrent/StealThisFilm.Part1.torrent

 

Civil Society, Fanaticism, and Digital Reality: A Conversation with Slavoj Zizek

Geert Lovink
 
Editors' Note: Slavoj Zizek, a leading intellectual in the new social movements of Eastern and Central Europe, is a researcher at the Institute of Sociology at the University of Ljubljana, Slovenia. He is the author of numerous books including Looking Away: An Introduction to Jacques Lacan Through Popular Culture. Zizek also ran as a pro-reform candidate for the presidency of the republic of Slovenia, then part of Yugoslavia, in 1990.
 
CTHEORY: Let's speak about the role of intellectuals. Before 1989, there was a strange relationship among intellectuals and those in power in Eastern Europe. Both bureaucrats and dissidents had some sort of relationship with politics. Even now, this is partly the case. In Western Europe this phenomenon disappeared and it is hard to see any relationship or even dialogue. What should be the role of intellectuals?

Zizek: Partially this is true. For me what was partially so attractive, so sympathetic about real socialism, despite being a corrupt, cynical system, was the belief in the power of the spoken word. Some twenty years ago, I was editor of a small art-theoretical journal with a circulation of 3,400. Once we published a small, obscure poem, incomprehensibly modern, but between the lines there was a dissident message. If the power would have ignored the poem, nothing would have happened. But there was an extraordinary session of the Central Committee. Okay, this is repression, but what I like about it is that the communist power took the potential, detonating force of the spoken word very seriously. They were always interested in arguing with intellectuals. Let's take an artist like Tarkovski, who was half dissident. He was half allowed to work, even if they suppressed some of his films. They were impressed, they bothered. Fredric Jameson made a nice point about this: we are only now becoming aware that what we liked about East-European dissidents like Havel is only possible within a socialist system.

Our influence, beginning in the mid-eighties, was at that time incredibly large, especially the philosophers, sociologists, literary theoreticians. But this was a very limited conjunction. Now there is the pure ignorance of the regime, which is simply not interested in ideological questions. I feel sorry for those countries in which writers nowadays play an important role. Take Serbia, where this nationalist madness was fabricated by writers. Even in Slovenia it's the same with the nationalist writers, although they do not have much influence.

CTHEORY: But you are involved in politics yourself, up until this moment. There are a lot of controversies in Ljubljiana about your involvement in the governing party and the fact that you write speeches for them.

Zizek: There is a messianic complex with intellectuals in Eastern Europe. Nothing against it, but it becomes extremely dangerous in Slovenia when this messianic vision of intellectuals is combined with a vulgar anti-Americanism, which is a very popular political attitude of right wingers. America for them means no national solidarity, filthy liberalism, multi-culturalism, individualism, the market. They are afraid of a pluralistic democracy and there is a proto-fascistic potential in it. This combination of nationalist writers, whose obsession is how to retain national identity, and an anti-capitalist right-wing movement is very dangerous.

I did something for which I lost almost all my friends, what no good leftist ever does: I fully supported the ruling party in Slovenia. For this all my leftist friends hate me and of course the whole right wing. What the liberal democratic party did was a miracle. Five years ago we were the remainder of the new social movements, like feminist and ecological groups. At that time everybody thought that we would be vanishing mediators. We made some slyly corrupted, but good moves and now we are the strongest party. I think it was our party that saved Slovenia from the fate of the other former Yugoslav republics, where they have the one-party model. Either right wing like in Croatia or left wing like in Serbia, which hegemonized in the name of the national interest. With us it's a really diverse, pluralist scene, open towards foreigners (of course there are some critical cases). But the changes of a genuine pluralist society are not yet lost.

It's typical that this position triggers an enormous hatred against me. Slovene media absolutely ignore me, there is never an article about me. On the other hand, if some nationalist poet publishes a small poem in some obscure Austrian journal, it's a big success in Slovenia. I am rather perceived as some dark, ominous, plotting, political manipulator, a role I enjoy immensely and like very much.

CTHEORY: You have not become cynical about the current power struggles you are involved in?

Zizek: You do not hear me not saying that it is so disgusting. It's a simple, professional choice. Now politics is becoming business-as-usual in Slovenia. It's no longer that once a week you write a heroic article and you are a hero. It means intrigues and meetings. I simply had to choose. Do I do serious theory or politics? What I hate most are the beautiful souls of the left wing who complain about their losses, that everything is corrupted, where are the good old days of the original, left-wing dissidence? No, you must accept the rules of the game. Svetlana Slapzak (from Belgrade, now Ljubljana - GL) and the group around her present themselves as marginalized victims. But her groups control two departments and the most powerful publishing house. They get the most money from the ministry of science. And via the Soros Foundation they are selling the story of being surrounded by nationalism.
Let's take me. I was blocked from the university before; I was only teaching abroad, in France and in America. I never taught at any university in Slovenia, I am absolutely alone, without any research assistant. They just give me enough money in order to survive. My answer to Svetlana Slapzak would be: why did she become a Slovenian citizen? Her very position is a contradiction of what she says. In a state of less than 2 million we offered 100,000 non-Slovenians permanent citizenship, against terrible nationalistic resistance. There were no dirty tricks involved, like a test if you knew Slovenian. We are still in an intermediate stage. When a new political logic imposes itself, the Sittlichkeit, the unwritten rules are still unsure, people are still searching for a model. The question is: will we become just another small, stupid, nationalistic state or maintain this elementary, pluralistic opening? And all compromises are worth it for this goal.

CTHEORY: What is your view on the work of the Soros Foundation and the concept of an "open society"?

Zizek: If you look into my heart, you'll see I am an old-fashioned left-winger. In the short term I support it, but I don't have Popper notions about it. Soros is doing good work in the field of education, refugees and keeping the theoretical and social sciences spirit alive. These countries are not only impoverished, but the sphere of social sciences is hegemonized by Heideggerian nationalists. But the Soros people have this ethic of the bad state vs. good civic, independent structures. But sorry, in Slovenia I am for the state and against civil society! In Slovenia, civil society is equal to the right wingers. In America, after the Oklahoma bombing, they suddenly discovered that madmen are everywhere. Civil society is not this nice, social movement, but a network of moral majority, conservatives and nationalist pressure groups, against abortion, [for] religious education in schools. A real pressure from below.

For me the open society means something very practical: the unwritten rules of the political space. For example, if you oppose the present government or the hegemonic party, are you then still accepted or is there an unwritten, unspoken stigma that you are a half-nationalist traitor and so on? Up to what extent can you make a career without making political compromises? I don't have any fundamental hopes in a socialist revolution or whatever. We have several big crises coming: the ecological, the developed against the underdeveloped world and the loss of the sense of reality in the face of all the rapid changes. I don't underestimate the social impact of the loss of stability. Is the frame of liberal capitalism able to solve this antagonism? Unfortunately my answer is no. Here I am the old-fashioned left-wing pessimist. I think that ghettoisation, like half of L.A., is far stronger than the Marxist class struggle. At least both workers and capitalists still participated in legality and the state, whereas liberal capitalism simply doesn't integrate the new ghettoes. Liberal democracy has no answer to these problems.

A lot of times, this Soros approach of openness indulges in its own species of covered racism. Recently at a conference in Amsterdam, Press Now asked whether it was possible to find a universal language so that intellectuals from various parts of the former Yugoslavia could start a dialogue. I find this cliché extremely dangerous, because it comes from an idea of the Balkans as the phantasmatic space of nationalistic madness. This phantasy is very well manipulated and expressed in some popular works of art, like Kusturica's film Underground. He said himself, in Cahiers du Cinema, that in the Balkans, war is a natural phenomenon, nobody knows when it will emerge, it just comes, it's in our genes. This naturalisation of the Balkans into an apolitical, primordial theatre of passions is cliché and I find it very suspicious. I would like to quote Hegel here: "The true evil is an attitude which perceives evil everywhere." I am very suspicious about this apparent multi-cultural, neutral, liberal attitude, which only sees nationalistic madness around itself. It posits itself in a witness role. The post-Yugoslav war is strictly the result of European cultural dynamics. We don't need this simplistic liberal deploring of "why don't people speak to each other?" Nobody is doing power analysis.
A common Western cliché is the so-called complexity of the Balkans. This specifically allows the West to maintain its position as an excluded observer. What you should do is what I call a phenomenological reduction a l'envers. You should not try to understand it. Like TV, the funny effect when you disconnect the voice, you only have these stupid gestures. Cut off the meaning and then you'll get the pure power battle. The Balkans are a symptom of Europe in the sense that it embodies all that is wrong in the light of the utopian notion of the European Community itself. What is the dream? A kind of neutral, purely technocratic Brussels bureaucracy. They project their mirror image on the Balkans. What they both have in common is the exclusion of the proper political antagonisms.

CTHEORY: The campaign in Holland, Press Now, supports so-called independent media in the former Yugoslavia. One of its premises is the idea that the war started with propaganda from above through state-controlled media. Seeing that any Western intervention already came too late, it states that, for example, through independent media, one could work on a long-term solution. Do you agree with this analysis?

Zizek: Up to a point I agree with this, but I have always been in favour of military intervention from the West. Around 1992, with a little bit of pressure, the war would have been over. But they missed the moment. Now, with the shift of balance and the stronger Russia, this is no longer possible. At that time, Croatians and Slovenians were in favour of independence, and the Bosnians were much more ambiguous and they are paying the price for it. The Bosnians didn't want to prepare for war, they were slower, more careful and that's why they are now so mad at the West. There was no protection of Bosnia from the Yugoslav army, despite all the guarantees. And then, after the attack, the West suddenly started talking about ethnic struggles, all sides must be guilty, and primordial passions.
I don't cry too much for Yugoslavia. The moment Milosevic took over and annexed Kosovo and Vojvodina, the balance of power shifted. There was the choice between a more federal Yugoslavia and a new, centralist one. Do not overestimate the role of the media in the late eighties. Media were allowed to play this role in order for local communist bureaucracies to survive. The key to the Yugoslav crisis is Milosevic's strategy to maintain the power of the old nomenclatura by raking up this national question. The media did their dirty work. It was horrible to watch day by day the stories in Slovenia about Serbs raping us and in Serbia about Albanians raping them. All the news was filtered through this poisoning hatred, from everyday crime to economics. But this was not the origin of the conflict. That was the calculation from the power elite to maintain power.

If you define independence in terms of not being supported or controlled by the state, then the worst right-wing weekly is an independent medium and should be supported by Soros. I do admit that in Serbia and Croatia there is absolute control over the media. What they allow are really small,
marginalized media. Impartial, independent information can help a lot, but don't expect too much of it.

CTHEORY: In your speech during the Ars Electronica conference, you emphasized the fact that after a phase of introduction, the seduction of the new media will be over and so will "virtual sex." So the desire to be wired will be over soon?

Zizek: The so-called "virtual communities" are not such a great revolution as it might appear. What impresses me is the extent to which these virtual phenomena retroactively enable us to discover to what extent our self has always been virtual. Even the most physical self-experience has a symbolic, virtual element in it. For example playing sex games. What fascinates me is that the possibility of satisfaction already counts as an actual satisfaction. A lot of my friends used to play sex games on Minitel in France. They told me that the point is not really to meet a person, not even to masturbate, but that just typing your phantasies is the fascination itself. In the symbolic order the potentiality already gives actual satisfaction. In psychoanalytic theory the notion of symbolic castration is often misunderstood. The threat of castration as to its effects, acts as a castration. Or in power relations, where the potential authority forms the actual threat. Take Margaret Thatcher. Her point was that if you don't rely on state support but on your individual resources, luck is around the corner. The majority didn't believe this, they knew very well that most of them would remain poor. But it was enough to be in a position where they might succeed.

The idea that you were able to do something, but didn't, gives you more satisfaction than actually doing it. In Italy, it is said to be very popular during the sexual act that a woman tells a man some dirty phantasies. It is not enough that you are actually doing it, you need some phantasmatic, virtual support. "You are good, but yesterday I fucked another one and he was better..." What interests me are the so-called sado-masochistic, ritualised, sexual practices. You never go to the end, you just repeat a certain foreplay. Virtual in the sense that you announce it, but never do it. Some write a contract. Even when you are doing it, you never lose control, all the time you behave as the director of your own game. What fascinates me is this Spaltung, this gap in order to remain a certain distance. This distance, far from spoiling enjoyment makes it even more intense. Here I see great possibilities for the VR stuff.

In the computer I see virtuality, in the sense of symbolic fiction, collapsing. This notion has a long tradition. In Bentham's panopticon we find virtuality at its purest. You never know if somebody is there in the centre. If you knew someone was there, it would have been less horrifying. Now's it's just an "utterly dark spot," as Bentham calls it. If someone is following you and you're not sure, it is more horrible than if you know that there is somebody. A radical uncertainty.

CTHEORY: You are famous for your film analyses. But can you imagine also using examples from computer networks, analyzing the storyline of a CD-ROM or using television material?

Zizek: The British Film Institute proposed to me to choose my own six, seven films and to do a couple of lectures there, since I use so many film examples. They came up with the idea to do a CD-ROM, because I write in the same manner: click here, go there, use this fragment, that story or scene. My books are already failed CD-ROMs, as someone told me. But because of copyright, it is extremely difficult to realize and dirty capitalism will destroy this plan. Don't they realize that if you use an excerpt of theirs, you create propaganda for them? But it is my dream to do something like this. In my favorite book, Tarrying with the Negative, I use some fragments of Hitchcock. How nice it would be to have it included in the text. But concerning film, I am indeed rather conservative. At this moment I am working on the theme of the role of music in cinema. The idea is that in the mid-thirties, when the classical Hollywood code was established, it was strictly Wagnerian, pure accompanying music, radical underscoring, determining your subjective perspective. It's a classical case of a conservative revolution. As Wagner said about his Gesamtkunstwerk: if we allow music to develop by itself, it will become atonal and inimitable.

What I also study are the soundtracks in the films of Lynch and Altman and the shift from the landscape to the soundscape. With Altman and Dolby stereo, you no longer need the soundtrack as a general frame, as if you have inconsistent fragments. The unity is no longer established at the visual level. I want to connect this with Altman's Short Cuts, with its series of faiths, contingently hitting each other. Very Deleuzean: global nonsense where contingence encounters produce local effects of sense in order to understand what subjective in our late capitalist society means. Or let's take Lynch's biggest failure, Dune. Did you notice the use of multiple inner monologues? Reality is something very fragile for Lynch. If you get too close to it you discover Leni Riefenstahl. I am not interested in direct content analysis, but the kind of purely formal changes in how we relate to the physicality of the film and the shifts in the notions of subjectivity. Of course all of this is done in a kindly anti-Derridian swing. For us, it is the sound that is the traumatic point, the cry or even the song. The point where you lose your unity and the ways the self enjoying voice always gets controlled. What interests me at the political level is how the discourse machinery, in order to function, has to rely on the obscene voice. What appears to be a carnivalesque subversion, this eruption of obscene freedom, really serves the power. But these are my B-productions, if you want to put it in Hollywood terms. The A-production of the last two years was a book on Schelling that I just finished.

CTHEORY: We recently celebrated the centenary of cinema. What's the condition of current film theory? What will come after the critical, semiological and gender approaches? It is still useful to see film as a unity or should we surf through the media, like the users do and use a variety of sources?
Zizek: Fredric Jameson has already made this point. What goes on in cinema is determined by what happens in other media. Concerning theory, there are a lot of others, the whole domain of cultural criticism in America is basically cinema theory. What attracts me, is the axis between gaze and voice and nowhere will you find this tension better than in cinema. This still is for me the principal axis. Cinema is for me a kind of condensation. On the one hand you have the problem of voice, on the other the narrativisation.

The only change I can think of is that up until twenty years ago, going to the cinema was a totally different social experience. It was a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, and this changed. But what still appears in ordinary commercial films is the shift in the notion of subjectivity. You can detect what goes on at the profoundest, most radical level of our symbolic identities and how we experience ourselves. Cinema is still the easiest way, like for Freud dreams were the royal way to the unconscious.

Maybe I am part of a nostalgic movement. Nowadays, because of all these new media, cinema is in a crisis. It becomes popular as a nostalgic medium. And what is modern film theory really about? Its ultimate object are nostalgic films from the thirties and forties. It is as if you need the theory in order to enjoy them. It's incredible how even Marxists enjoy this game. They have seen every film, I'm not joking. It's not only this paternalising notion that it is good to use examples from cinema. I would still claim that there is an inherent logic of the theory itself, as if there is a privileged relationship, like the role literature played in the nineteenth century.

CTHEORY: You have been to Japan. What's your opinion on the technological culture in that country?

Zizek: First I must say that I don't have my own positive theory about Japan. What I do have, as every Western intellectual, are the myths of reference. There is the old, right-wing image of the Samurai code, fighting to death, the absolute, ethical Japan. Then there is the leftist image, from Eisenstein: the semiotic Japan. The empty signs, no Western metaphysics of presence. It's a no less phantasmatic Japan then the first one. We know that Eisenstein for his montage of attractions used Japanese ideograms.

Then there is Bertolt Brecht as an exception. He took over elements like sacrifice and authority and put them in a left-wing context. Here in the West, Brecht was seen as someone introducing a fanatic Eastern morality. But now there's in Suhrkamp Verlag a detailed edition of his "Jasager" and his "Lernstcke". They discovered that all those moments the Western critics perceived as remainders of this imperial and sacrificing Japan were indeed edited by Brecht. What they perceived as Japanese was Brecht.

Then there is the capitalist Japan and its different stages. There is the myth of non-original Japan taking over, but developing better: Philips for the rich and Sony for the poor. Twenty years later this was of course the other way round. Then there is the Kojevian Japan. First, for Kojeve the end of history was Russia and America, the realisation of the French Revolution. Then he noticed that something was missing. He found the answer in Japan, in the little surplus. If everything only functions, as in America, you would kill yourself. In the snobbism, drinking tea in a nice way, he found that life still had a meaning.

But there is another Japan, the psycho-analytic. For the multi-culturalist approach, the almost standard example is Japan and its way of Verneinung, saying no. There are thirty ways to say no. You say no to your wife in one way, no to a child in another way. There is not one negation. There is a small Lacanian volume, La chose japonaise. They elaborate the borrowing of other languages, all these ambiguities. Didn't Lacan say that Japanese do not have an unconscious?

For the West, Japan is the ambiguous Other: at the same time it fascinates you and repels you. Let's not forget the psychological cliche of Japan: you smile, but you never know if it is sincere or if you are mocking us - the idea of Japan as the impenetrable Other. This ambiguous politeness. What do they really want? There's also the idea of the Japanese as the "ersatz" Jews for the Americans. The Japanese governments together with two or three mega companies, plotting. All this spleen, this palette of phantasies, is Japan for us. But what surprised me is that authors, whom I considered strictly European, are widely read in Japan, as for example George Lukacs.

Then there is a Japan, loved by those who criticize our Western, decadent way of liberal democracy and who look for a model that would combine the dynamics of capitalism, while maintaining some firm traditional structure of authority. And again, it can work both ways. What I like about phantasies is that they are always ambiguous. You can turn it in a negative way, Japanese pretending to play capitalism, while in reality what you have is conspiracy and authority. On the positive side you see that there is a capitalism possible with moral values.

What I liked there, in restaurants and subway stations, is the absence of English. You don't have this self-humiliating, disgusting, pleasing attitude. It's up to the foreigners to find their way out. I liked tremendously those automatic vending machines. Did you see The Shining, based on Stephen King's novel? This is America at its worst. Three people, a family, in a big hotel and still the space is too small for them and they start killing each other. In Japan, even when it is very crowded, you don't feel the pressure, even if you are physically close. The art of ignoring. In the New York subway, even when it's half full, you would have this horrifying experience of the absolute proximity of the Other. What I liked about the Foucault conference in Tokyo I attended was that one would expect the Japanese to apply Foucault to their own notions. But all the Japanese interventions were about Flaubert. They didn't accept this anthropological game of playing idiots for you. No, they tried to beat us at our own game. We know Flaubert better than you.

Every nation in Europe has this fanaticism, conceiving itself as the true, primordial nation. The Serbian myth, for example, is that they are the first nation of the world. The Croatians consider themselves as primordial Aryans. The Slovenians are not really Slavs, but pretend to be of Etrurian origin. It would be nice to find a nation that accepts the fact of being the second and not the first. This might be a part of the Japanese identity, if you look at the way they borrow languages.

I recently read a book on Kurosawa. It is said that Rashomon was seen in the early fifties as the big discovery of the Eastern spirit. But in Japan it was perceived as way too Western. My favorite Japanese film is Sansho by Michoguchi because it offers itself for a nice, Lacanian reading, the problem of the lost mother, the mother's voice reaching the son, etc. This is the Japanese advantage over America when the mother's voice tries to reach the son. In America one would get madness, like Hitchcock's Psycho, but in Japan you get a normal family.

The Balkans is now a region where the West is projecting its own phantasies, like Japan. And again, this can be very contradictory. The film Rising Suns ambiguously suggests that there is a Japanese plot to take over and buy Hollywood. The idea is that they do not just want our factories, our land, they even want our dreams. Behind this there's the notion of thought control. It's the old Marxist notion of buying the whole chain, from the hardware until the movie theatres. What interests me in Japan is that it is a good argument against the vulgar, pseudo-Marxist evolutionary notion that you have to go through certain evolutionary stages. Japan proves that you can make a direct short circuit. You retain certain elements of the old hierarchical superstructure and combine it very nicely with the most effective version of capitalism it pretends to be. It's a good experience in non-anthropocentrism. It's a mystery for Western sociologists who say that you need Protestant ethics for good capitalism.
What I see in Japan, and maybe this is my own myth, is that behind all these notions of politeness, snobbism etc. the Japanese are well aware that something which may appear superficial and unnecessary has a much deeper structural function. A Western approach would be: who needs this? But a totally ridiculous thing at a deeper level might play a stabilizing function we are not aware of. Everybody laughs at the English monarchy, but you'll never know.

There is another notion that is popular now amongst American sociologists, the civilizations of guilt versus civilizations of shame. The Jews and their inner guilt and the Greeks with their culture of shame. The usual cliche now is that Japan is the ultimate civilization of shame. What I despise in America is the studio actors' logic, as if there is something good in self-expression: do not be oppressed, open yourself, even if you shout and kick the others, everything in order to express and liberate yourself. This is a stupid idea, that behind the mask there is some truth. In Japan, and I hope that this is not only a myth, even if something is merely an appearance, politeness is not simply insincere. There is a difference between saying "Hello, how are you?" and the New York taxi drivers who swear at you. Surfaces do matter. If you disturb the surfaces you may lose a lot more than you think. You shouldn't play with rituals. Masks are never simply mere masks. Perhaps that's why Brecht became close to Japan. He also liked this notion that there is nothing really liberating in this typical Western gesture of stealing the masks and showing the true face. What you discover is something absolutely disgusting. Let's maintain the appearances, that's my own phantasy of Japan.


Geert Lovink is a Dutch media theorist and a member of "Adilkno". He is also involved with the Digital City project in Amsterdam and most recently has worked in Eastern Europe as an advisor for media art and independent media. This interview took place in Linz, Austria, on June 20, 1995.



Japan through a Slovenian Looking Glass: Reflections of Media and Politic and Cinema - Slavoj Zizek and Geert Lovink

GL: You have been to Japan. What's your opinion on the technological culture in this country?

SZ: First I must say that I don't have my own positive theory about Japan. What I do have, as every Western intellectual, are the myths of reference. There is the old, right wing image of the Samurai code, fighting to death, the absolute, ethical Japan. Then there is the leftist image, from Eisenschtein already: the semiotic Japan. The empty signs, no Western metaphysics of presence. It's a no less phantasmic Japan then the first one. We know that Eisenschtein for his montage of attractions used Japanese ideograms.

Then there is Bertolt Brecht as an exception. He took over elements like sacrifice and authority, and put it in a left wing context. Here in the West, Brecht was seen as someone introducing a fanatic eastern morality. But now there's in Suhrkamp Verlag a detailed edition of his 'Jasager' and his 'Lernstke.' They discovered that all those moments the Western critics perceived as remainders of this imperial and sacrificing Japan, were indeed edited by Brecht. What they perceived as Japanese was Brecht.

Than there is the capitalist Japan and it's different stages. There is the myth of non-original Japan, taking over, but developing better:

Philips for the rich and Sony for the poor. Twenty years later this was of course the other way round. Then there is the Kojevian Japan. First for Kojeve the end of history was Russia and America, the realization of the French Revolution. Then he noticed that someting was missing. He found the answer in Japan, in the little surplus. If everything only functions, as in America, you would kill yourself. In the snobbism, drinking tea in a nice way, he found that live still had a meaning.

But there is another Japan, the psycho-analytic. Whenever you have the multi-culturalist approach, the almost standard example is Japan and its way of 'Verneinung', saying no. There are thirty ways to say no.

You say no to your wife in one way, no to a child in another way. There is not one negation. There exists a small Lacanian volume, 'La chose japonaise.' They elaborate the borrowing of other languages, all these ambiguities. Didn't Lacan say that Japanese do not have an unconscious?
For the West, Japan is the ambiguous Other: at the same time it fascinates you and repels you. Let's not forget the psychological cliche of Japan: you smile, but you never know if it is sincere or if you are mocking us - the idea of Japan as the impenetrable Other. This ambiguous politeness. What do they really want? There's also the idea of the Japanese as the 'ersatz' Jews for the Americans. The Japanese governments together with two, three mega companies plotting. All this spleen, this palette of fantasies, is Japan for us. But what surprised me is that authors, whom I considered strictly European, are widely read in Japan, like for example George Lukacs.

Than there is a Japan, loved by those who criticize our Western, decadent way of liberal democracy and who look for a model that would combine the dynamic of capitalism, while maintaining some firm traditional structure of authority. And again, it can work both ways. What I like about fantasies is that they are always ambiguous. You can turn it in a negative way, Japanese pretending to play capitalism, while in reality being one big conspiracy and authority. On the positive side you see that there is a capitalism possible with moral values.

What I liked there, in restaurants and subway stations, is the absence of English. You don't have this self-humiliating, disgusting, pleasing attitude. It's up to the foreigners to find their way out. I liked tremendously those automatic vending machines. Did you see 'The Shining', based on Stephen King's novel? This is America at it's worst. Three people, a family, in a big hotel and still the space is too small for them and they start killing each other. In Japan, even when it is very crowded, you don't feel the pressure, even if you are physically close. This art of ignoring. In the New York subway, even when it's half full, you would have this horrifying experience of the absolute proximity of the Other. What I liked about the Foucault conference in Tokyo I attended, was that one would expect the Japanese to apply Foucault to their own notions. But all the Japanese interventions were about Flaubert. They didn't accept this anthropological game of playing idiots for you. No, they tried to beat us at our own game. We know Flaubert better then you.

Every nation in Europe has this fanaticism, conceiving itself as the true, primordial nation. The Serbian myth for example is that they are the first nation of the world. The Croatians consider themselves as primordial Aryans. The Slovenes are not really slaves, but pretend to be of Etrurian origin. It would be nice to find a nation, which would accept the fact that they are not the first but the second. This might be a part of the Japanese identity, if you look at the way they borrow languages.

I recently read a book on Kurosawa. It is said that 'Rashomon' was seen in the early fifties as the big discovery of the eastern spirit. But in Japan it was conceived as way too Western. My favorite Japanese film is 'Sansho' by Mizoguchi because it offers itself for a nice, Lacanian reading, the problem of the lost mother, the mother's voice reaching the son, etc. This is the Japanese advantage over America when the mother's voice tries to reach the son. In America one would get madness, like Hitchcock's 'Psycho', but in Japan you get a normal family.

The Balkans is now a region where the West is projecting its own fantasies upon, like Japan. And again, this can be very contradictory. The film 'The Rising Sun' has this ambiguity that there is this Japanese plot of trying to take over and buy Hollywood. The idea is that they do not want our factories, our land, they even want our dreams. Behind this there's the notion of the thought control. It's the old Marxist notion of buying the whole chain, from the hardware until the movie theatres. What interests me in Japan is that it is a good argument against the vulgar, pseudo Marxist evolutionary notion that you have to go through certain evolutionary stages. Japan proves that you can make a direct short circuit. You retain certain elements of the old hierarchical superstructure and combine it very nicely with the most effective version of capitalism as it pretends to be. It's a good experience in non-antropocentrism. It's a mystery for Western sociologists who say that you need Protestant ethics for good capitalism.

What I see in Japan, and maybe this is my own myth, is that behind all these notions of politeness, snobbism etc. The Japanese are well aware that something which may appear superficial and unnecessary, has a much deeper structural function. A Western approach would be: who needs this? But a totally ridiculous thing at a deeper level might play a stabilizing function we are not aware of. Everybody laughs at the English monarchy, but you'll never know.

There is another notion, that is popular now amongst American sociologist, the civilizations of guilt versus civilizations of shame.

The Jews and their inner guilt and the Greeks with their culture of shame. The usual cliche now is that Japan is the ultimate civilization of shame. What I despise in America is the studio actors logic, as if there is something good in self expression: do not be oppressed, open yourself, even if you shout and kick the others, everything in order to express and liberate yourself. This stupid idea, that behind the mask there is some truth. In Japan, and I hope that this is not only a myth, even if something is merely an appearance, politeness is not simply insincere. There is a difference between saying 'Hello, how are you?' and the New York taxi drivers who swear at you. Surfaces do matter. If you disturb the surfaces you may lose a lot more than you account. You shouldn't play with rituals. Masks are never simply mere masks. Perhaps that's why Brecht became close to Japan. He also liked this notion that there is nothing really liberating in this typical Western gesture of stealing the masks and show the true face. What you discover is something absolutely disgusting. Let's maintain the appearances, that's my own fantasy of Japan.

GL: Let's speak about the role of intellectuals. Before 1989, in Eastern Europe there was this strange relation between intellectuals and the power. Both bureaucrats and dissidents had some sort of relationship with politics. Even until now, this is partly the case. In Western Europe this phenomena disappeared and it is hard to see any relationship or even dialogue. What should be the role of intellectuals?

SZ: Partially this is true. For me what was partially so attractive, so sympathetic about real socialism, despite of being a corrupted, cynical system, was the belief in the power of the spoken word. Some twenty years ago, I was editor of a small art-theoretical journal with a circulation of 3-400. Once we published a small, obscure poem, incomprehensible modern, but between the lines there was some dissident message. If the power would have ignored the poem, nothing would have happened. But there was an extraordinary session of the Central Committee. Okay, this is repression, but what I like about it is that the communist power took the potential, detonating force of the spoken word incredibly serious. They were always interested in arguing with the intellectuals. Let's take an artist like Tarkovski, who was half dissident. He was half allowed to work, even if they suppressed some of his films. They were impressed, they bothered. Fredric Jameson made a nice point about this: we are now only becoming aware that what we liked about East-European dissidents like Havel, is only possible within a socialist system.

Our influence, beginning in the mid-eighties, was at that time incredible large, specially the philosophers, sociologists, literary theoreticians. But this was a special, very limited conjunction. Now there is the pure ignorance of the regime, who is simply not interested in ideological questions. I feel sorry for those countries in which writes nowadays play an important role. Take Serbia, where this nationalist madness was fabricated by writers. Even in Slovenia it's the same with the nationalist writers, although they do not have much influence.

GL: But you are involved in politics yourself, up until this moment. There are a lot of controversies in Ljubljana about your involvement in the governing party and the fact that you write speeches for them.
SZ: You have a messianic complex with intellectuals in Eastern Europe. Nothing against it, but it becomes extremely dangerous in Slovenia when this messianic vision of intellectuals get combined with a vulgar anti- Americanism, which is a very popular political attitude of right-wingers. America for them means no national solidarity, filthy liberalism, multi-culturalism, individualism, the market. They are afraid for too much plural democracy and there is a proto-fascistic potential in it. This combination of nationalist writers, whose obsession it is how to retain national identity and a anti-capitalist, right wing movement is very dangerous.

I did something for which I lost almost all my friends, what no good leftist ever does: I fully support the ruling party in Slovenia. For this all my leftist friends hate me and of course the whole right wing. What the liberal democratic party did was a miracle. Five years ago we were the remainder of the new social movements, like feminist and ecological groups. At that time everybody thought that we would be vanishing mediators. We made some solidly corrupted, but good moves and now we are the strongest party. I think it was our party that saved Slovenia from the faith of the other former Yugoslav republics, where they have the one-party model. Either right wing like in Croatia or left wing like in Serbia, which hegemonized in the name of the national interest. With us it's a real diverse, pluralist scene, open towards foreigners (of course there are some critical cases). But the changes of a genuine pluralist society are not yet lost.

It's typical, that this position triggers an enormous hatred against me. Slovene media absolutely ignore me, there is never an article about me. On the other hand, if some nationalist poet publishes an small poem in some obscure Austrian journal, it's a big success in Slovenia. I am rather perceived as some dark, ominous, plotting, political manipulator, a role I enjoy immensely and like very much.

GL: You have not become cynical about the current power struggles you are involved in?

SZ: You do not hear me not saying that it is so disgusting. It's a simple, professional choice. Now politics is becoming business-as-usual in Slovenia. It's no longer that once a week you write a heroical article and you are a hero. It means intrigues and meetings. I simply had to choose. Do I do seriously theory or politics? What I hate most is the left wing beautiful soul who's complaining about the losses, that everything is corrupted, where are the good old days of the original, left wing dissidence? No, you must accept the rules of the game. Svetlana Slapzak (from Belgrade, now Ljubljana - GL) and the group around her present themselves as marginalized victims. But her groups controls totally two departments and the strongest publishing house. They get the most money from the ministry of science. And via the Soros Foundation they are selling the story of being surrounded by nationalism.
Let's take me. I was blocked from the university before, I was only teaching abroad, in France and in America. I never taught at any university in Slovenia, I am absolutely alone, without any research assistant. They just give me enough money in order to survive. My answer to Svetlana Slapzak would be: why did she become Slovenian citizen? Her very position is a counterprove of what she says. In a state of less than 2 millions we offered 100,000 non-Slovenians permanent citizenship, against terrible nationalistic resistance. There were no dirty tricks involved, like a test if you knew Slovenian.
We are still in an intermediate stage. When a new political logic imposes itself, the 'Sittlichkeit', the unwritten rules are still unsure, people are still searching for a model. The question is: will we become just another small, stupid, nationalistic state or maintain this elementary, pluralistic opening? And all compromises are worth for this goal.

GL: What is your view on the work of the Soros Foundation and the concept of an 'open society'?

SZ: If you truly look into my heart, I am an old fashioned left-winger. In the short term I support it, but I have no Popperian notions. Soros is doing good work in the field of education, refugees and keeping the theoretical and social sciences spirit alive. These countries are not only impoverished, but the sphere of social sciences are hegemonized by Heideggerian nationalists. But the Soros people have this ethics of the bad state and good civic, independent structures.

But sorry, in Slovenia I am for the state and against civil society! In Slovenia, civil society are equal to the right-wingers. In America, after the Oklahoma bombing, they suddenly discovered that there are hundreds of thousands of jerks. Civil society is not this nice, social movement, but a network of moral majority, conservatists and nationalist pressure groups, against abortion, religious education in schools. A real pressure from below.

For me the open society means something very practical, the unwritten rules of the political space. For example, if you oppose the present government or the hegemonic party, are you then still accepted or is there an unwritten, unspoken stigma that you are a half-nationalist traitor etc.? Up to which extend can you make a career without making political compromises? I don't have any fundamental hopes in a socialist revolution or whatever. We have several big crises coming: the ecological, the developed against the underdeveloped world and the loss of the sense of reality in face of all the quick changes. I don't underestimate the social impact of the loss of stability. Is the frame of liberal capitalism able to solve this antagonism? Unfortunately my answer is no. Here I am the old fashioned left wing pessimist. I think that the ghettoization, like half of L.A., is far stronger than the Marxist class struggle. At least both workers and capitalists still participated in legality and the state, whereas liberal capitalism simply doesn't integrate the new ghettoes. Liberal democracy has no answer to these problems.

A lot of times, this Soros approach of openness indulges in its own species of covered racism. Recently on conference in Amsterdam, 'Press Now' asked whether it was possible to find a universal language so that intellectuals from various parts of Former Yugoslavia could start a dialogue. I find this cliche extremely dangerous, because it comes from idea of the Balkans as the phantasmic space of nationalistic madness. This fantasy is very well manipulated and expressed in some popular works of art, like Kusturica's film 'Underground.' He said himself, in 'Cahier du Cinema', that in the Balkans war is a natural phenomena, nobody knows when it will emerge, it just comes, it's in our genes. This naturalization of the Balkans into an a-political, primordial theatre of passions is cliche and I find it very suspicious. I would like to quote Hegel here: 'The true evil is an attitude which perceives evil everywhere.' I am very suspicious about this apparent multi-cultural, neutral, liberal attitude, which only sees nationalistic madness around itself. It posits itself in a witness role. The Post-Yugoslav war is strictly the result of European cultural dynamics. We don't need this simplistic liberal deploring of 'why don't people speak to each other?' Nobody is doing power analysis.

A common Western cliche is the so-called complexity of the Balkans. This precisely serves the West in order to maintain it's position as excluded observer. What you should do is what I call a phenomenological reduction a l'envers (the other way around). You should not try to understand it. Like TV, the funny effect when you disconnect the voice, you only have these stupid gestures. Cut off the meaning ad then you'll get the pure power battle. The Balkans are a symptom of Europe in the sense that it embodies all that is wrong in the light of the utopian notion of the European Community itself. What is the dream? A kind of neutral, purely technocratic Brussels bureaucracy. They project their mirror image on the Balkans. What they both have in common is the exclusion of the proper political antagonisms.

GL: Our campaign in Holland, Press Now, supports so-called independent media in Former Yugoslavia. One of its premises is the idea that the war started with propaganda from above through state-controlled media. Seeing that any Western intervention already came too late, it states that for example through independent media, one could work on a long term solution. Do you agree with analysis?

SZ: Up to a point I agree with this, but I have always been in favor of military intervention from the West. Around 1992, with a little bit of pressure, the war would have been over. But they missed the moment.

Now, with the shift of balance and the stronger Russia, this is no longer possible. At that time, Croatians and Slovenians were in favor of independence, and the Bosnians were much more ambiguous and they are paying the price for it. The Bosnians didn't want to prepare for war, they were slower, more careful and that's why they are now so mad at the West. There was no protection of Bosnia for the Yugoslav army, despite all the guarantees. And then, after the attack, the West suddenly started talking about ethnic struggles, all sides must be guilty and primordial passions. I don't cry too much for Yugoslavia. The moment Milosevic took over and annexed Kosovo and Vojvodina, the balance of power shifted. There was the choice between a more federal Yugoslavia and a new, centralist one.

Do not overestimate the role of the media in the late eighties. Media were allowed to play this role in order for local communist bureaucracies to survive. The key to the Yugoslav crisis is Milosevic's strategy to maintain the power of the old nomenclatura by raking up this national question. The media did their dirty work. It was horrible to watch day by day the stories in Slovenia about Serbs raping us and in Serbia about Albanians raping them. All the news was filtered through this poisoning hatred, from everyday crime to economics. But this was not the origin of the conflict. That was the calculation from the power-elite to maintain power.

If you define independence in terms of not being supported or controlled by the state, than the worst right wing weekly is a independent medium and should be supported by Soros. I do admit that in Serbia and Croatia there is absolute control over the media. What they allow are really small, marginalized media. Impartial, independent information can help a lot, but don't expect too much of it.
GL: In your speech during the Ars Electronica conference, you emphasized the fact that after a phase of introduction, the seduction of the new media will be over and so will 'virtual sex.' So the desire to be wired will be over soon?

SZ: The so-called 'virtual communities' are not such a great revolution as it might appear. What impresses me is the extend to which these virtual phenomena retro-actively enable us to discover to what extend our self has always been virtual. Even the most physical self experience has a symbolic, virtual element in it. For example playing sex games. What fascinates me is that the possibility of satisfaction already counts as an actual satisfaction. A lot of my friends used to play sex games on Minitel in France. They told me that the point is not really to meet a person, not even to masturbate, just typing your fantasies is the fascination itself. In the symbolic order the potentiality already gives actual satisfaction. In psycho-analytic theory the notion of symbolic castration is often misunderstood. The threat of castration as to its effects, acts as a castration. Or in power relations, where the potential authority forms the actual threat.

Take Margaret Thatcher. Her point was that if you don't rely on state support but on your individual resources, luck is around the corner. The majority didn't believe this, they knew very well that most of them will remain poor. But it was enough to be in a position where they may succeed.

The idea that you were able to do something, but didn't, gives you more satisfaction than actually doing it. In Italy, it is said to be very popular during the sexual act that a woman is telling the man some dirty fantasies. It is not enough that you are actually doing it, you need some phantasmic, virtual support. 'You are good, but yesterday I fucked another one and he that was better...' What interests me are the so-called sado-masochistic, ritualized, sexual practices. You never go to the end, you just repeat a certain foreplay. Virtual in the sense that you announce it, but never do it. Some of them write a contract.

Even when you are doing it, you never lose control, all the time you behave as the director of your own game. What fascinates me is this 'Spaltung', this gap in order to remain a certain distance. This distance, far from spoiling enjoyment makes it even more intense. Here I see great possibilities for the VR-stuff.

In the computer I see virtuality, in the sense of symbolic fiction, collapsing. This notion has a long tradition. In Bentham's panopticon we find virtuality at its purest. You never know if somebody is there in the centre. If you knew, someone was there, it would have been less horrifying. Now it's just an 'utterly dark spot', as Bentham calls it. If someone is following you and you're not sure, it is more horrible than if you that there is somebody, a radical uncertainty.

GL: You are famous for your film analyses. But can you imagine also using examples from computer networks, analyzing the storyline of a CD- ROM or use television material?

SZ: The British Film Institute proposed me to choose my own six, seven films and to do a couple of lectures there, since I use so many film examples. They came up with the idea to do a CD-ROM, because I write in same manner: click here, go there, use this fragment, that story or scene. My books are already failed CD-ROMs, as someone told me. But because of copyright, it is extremely difficult to realize and dirty capitalism will destroy this plan. Don't they realize that if you use an excerpt of them, you make propaganda for them? But it is my dream to do something like this. In my favorite book, 'Tarrying with the Negative', I use some fragments of Hitchcock. How nice it would be to have it included in the text. But concerning film, I am indeed rather conservative. At this moment I am working on the theme of the role of music in cinema. The idea is that in the mid-thirties, when the classical Hollywood code was established, it was strictly Wagnerian, pure accompanying music, radical underscoring, determining your subjective perspective. It's a classical case of a conservative revolution. Like Wagner said about his 'Gesamtkunstwerk': if we allow music to develop by itself, it will become atonal and inimitable. What I also study are the soundtracks in the films of Lynch and Altman and the shift from the landscape to the soundscape. With Altman and Dolby-stereo, you no longer need the soundtrack as a general frame, as if you have inconsistent fragments. The unity is no longer established at the visual level. I want to connect this with Altman's 'Short Cuts,' with its series of faiths, contingently hitting each other. Very Deleuzean: global nonsense where contingence encounters produce local effects of sense in order to understand what subjective in our late capitalist society means. Or let's take Lynch's biggest failure, 'Dune.' Did you notice the use of multiple inner monologues? Reality is something very fragile for Lynch. If you get too close to it you discover Leni Riefenstahl. I am not interested in direct content analysis, but the kind of purely formal changes in how we relate to the physicality of the film and the shifts in the notions of subjectivity.
Of course all of this is done is a kindly anti-Derridaen swing. For us, it is the sound that is the traumatic point, the cry or even the song. The point where you lose your unity and the ways how the self enjoying voice always gets controlled. What interests me at the political level is how the discourse machinery, in order to function, has to rely on the obscene voice. What appears to be a carnavalesk subversion, this eruption of obscene freedom, really serves the power. But these are my B-productions, if you want to put it in Hollywood terms. The A- production of the last two year was a book on Schelling, that I just finished.

GL: This year we celebrate the centenary of cinema. But what's the condition of current film theory? What will come after the critical, semiological and gender approaches? It is still useful to see the film as a unity or should we surf through the media, like the users do and use a variety of sources?

SZ: Fredric Jameson already made this point. What goes on in cinema, is determined by the fact what happens in other media. Concerning theory, there are a lot of others, the whole domain of cultural criticism in America is basically cinema theory. I was always amazed by the extend to which all these political correct feminists, altough they criticize them, are so terribly fascinated by these very male, chauvinist films. What does attract me, is the axis between gaze and voice and nowhere you'll find this tension better than in cinema. This still is for me the principal axis. Cinema is for me a kind of condensation. On the one hand you have the problem of voice, on the other the narrativization. The only change I can think of is that until twenty years ago, going to the cinema was a total different, social experience. It was a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, and this changed. But what still appears in ordinary commercial films is the shift in the notion of subjectivity. You can detect what goes on the profoundest, most radical level of our symbolic identities and how we experience ourselves. Cinema is still the easiest way, like for Freud dreams were the royal way to the unconscious. Maybe I am part of a nostalgic movement. Nowadays, because of all these new media, cinema is in a crisis. It becomes popular as a nostalgic medium. And what is really the modern film theory about? It's ultimate object are nostalgic films from the thirties and fourties. It is as if you need the theory in order to enjoy them. It's incredible how even Marxists enjoy this game. They have seen every film, no jokes there.
It's not only this patternizing notion that it is good to use examples from cinema. I would still claim that there is an inherent logic of the theory itself, as if there is a privileged relationship, like the role literature played in the nineteenth century.

Linz, June 20, 1995

The Constellation in Art: Multinational Tropes in the 3D Videogame

The Constellation in Art:
Multinational Tropes in the 3D Videogame
[Based on a talk given at the 2004 MLA.]


            There are two things which need to be said about Theodor Adorno’s relevance to the world of videogame culture. The usual objection against Adorno is that he was clueless about jazz and film. This is true – but it is also irrelevant. The reason is that Adorno was critiquing the mainstream Hollywood films and radio broadcasts of the 1940s – or what we would consider an irredeemably militarized, patriarchal, racist and sexist mass culture. Yet it is Adorno’s conceptual work, and in particular his project of a negative or multinational dialectics, which has become indispensable to the study of the multinational media culture today.
            To give you a sense of what I’m talking about, here are two key sections from Negative Dialectics. The first describes the relationship of the micrology to the macrology, while the second focuses on the problem of aesthetic form.


Argument and Experience (ND 39-42, my translation)
Immersion into the particular, dialectical immanence raised to an extreme, requires as one of its moments the freedom to also step out of the object, the freedom which the claim of identity cuts off. Hegel would have abjured this; he relied upon the complete mediation in objects. In the praxis of cognition, the resolution of the irresolvable, the moment of such transcendence of thought comes to light in that solely as a micrology does it employ macrological means. The demand for committalness [Verbindlichkeit] without system is that for thought-models. These are not of a merely monadological sort. The model strikes the specific and more than the specific, without dissolving it into its more general master-concept. To think philosophically is so much as to think in models; negative dialectics is an ensemble of model-analyses.


Constellation (ND 164-166, my translation)
The unifying moment survives, without the negation of the negation, yet also without delivering itself to the abstraction as the highest principle, not by advancing step by step towards the general master-concept from the concepts, but by these latter entering into a constellation. These illuminate the specifics of the object which the classifying procedure is indifferent towards or uncomfortable with. The model for this is the conduct of language. It offers no mere sign-system for cognitive functions. Where it appears essentially as language, becoming portrayal [Darstellung], it does not define its concepts. It obtains their objectivity through the relationship in which it posits the concepts, centered around a thing. It thereby serves the intention of the concept, to wholly express what is meant. Solely constellations represent, from without, what the concept has cut away from within, the "more", which the former wishes to be, so very much as it cannot be the latter. By gathering around the thing to be cognized, the concepts potentially determine its innermost core, thinking to attain what thinking necessarily stamped out of itself. The Hegelian usage of the terminus concrete, according to which the thing itself is its context, not its pure selfness, registers this, without however, in spite of all critique of discursive logic, ignoring this. But Hegel's dialectic was one without language, while the simplest literal meaning of dialectics postulates language; to this extent Hegel remained the adept of current science. He did not need language in the emphatic sense, because to him everything, even what is devoid of language and opaque, is supposed to be Spirit and the Spirit, the context. This supposition is beyond salvation. That which is resolvable, which is not in any previously-thought context, does indeed transcend its self-enclosed nature out of itself, as what is non-identical. It communicates with that from which the concept separated it. It is opaque only for the totality-claim of identity; it resists the latter's pressure. As such however it seeks expression. Through language it dispels the bane of its selfness. What in the non-identical is not to be defined in its concept, surpasses its individual existence, which shrinks into the polarity to the concept, at which it stares. The interior of the non-identical is its relationship to that which it is not itself and which its instituted, frozen identity with itself withholds from it. It attains itself only in its disclosure [Entaeusserung: removal, relinquishment, realization], not in its hardening; this can still be learned from Hegel, without making concessions to the repressive moments of his doctrine of realization [Entaeusserung]. The object opens itself to a monadological insistence, which is the consciousness of the constellation, in which it stands: the possibility of immersion in what is internal necessitates what is external. Such immanent universality of the individual however is objective as sedimented history. This is in it and outside it, something all-encompassing, in which it has its place. To become aware of the constellation in which the thing stands, means so much as to decode the one which the latter bears within itself, as what has come to be. The chorismos of the outside and the inside is for its part historically conditioned. The only knowledge which can unleash the history in the object, is that which is aware of the historical positional value of the object in its relationship to others; the updating and concentration of something already known, which it transforms. The cognition of the object in its constellation is that of the process, which it has stored up within itself. As a constellation the theoretical thought circles around the concept, which it would like to open, hoping, that it springs ajar like the lock of a heavily guarded safe: only not by means of a single key or a single number, but by a number-combination.


It’s interesting that Adorno’s discussion of the constellation ends with a reference to the safecracker, in other words, to the jewel heist movie, one of the most prevalent forms of the 1950s and early 1960s mass media, everywhere from Peter Sellers’ Pink Panther comedies to Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief (1955). The closest contemporary version of this is the hacker narrative, the thief who steals data instead of carbonized rocks. It’s worth emphasizing that Adorno’s concept of language is extremely complex and nuanced, and cannot be reduced to a sign-system or discursive code. Language is a proxy of the dialectic between aesthetic form and historical content, not a substitute for such. It is a key bridge-mediation between the modernist aesthetics of the monopoly era – the span from Baudelaire to Beckett – and the economic structures of monopoly capitalism – the span from the Birmingham textile mill to the General Motors factory. Today I would update Adorno’s terminology only slightly, and argue that the hegemonic language of our day, namely the multinational media culture, is the key bridge-mediation between the aesthetic forms of the multinational era, and the economic structures of multinational capitalism.
            What Adorno’s concept of the constellation gives us is a way of measuring and triangulating that dialectic, or what amounts to a tremendously powerful theory of multinational form. By reading these forms in terms of objective constellations, that is to say, as multinational texts or documents (a process with deep affinities, it should be noted, to Fredric Jameson’s notion of cognitive mapping) we can begin to disclose the social history bound up in those texts. To that end, Adorno relies on a counterweight and corrective on the constellation, namely the micrology. This refers to the smallest possible metric or unit of differentiation between objects.
            As it turns out, the 3D videogame is a treasure-trove of potential constellations and micrologies. On the level of the constellation, the 3D videogame mobilizes a vast array of scripts, icons, tropes, music, sounds, animation, film, video clips and streaming media. From the standpoint of the micrology, the 3D videogame is closely tied to the politics of the information culture, or the struggles over open source software and an emergent “information commons”, a.k.a. electronic public space. Ironically, while the hardware for the 3D videogame was designed and created by some of the biggest electronics and computer manufacturers in the world, the software was spawned by the information commons back in the early 1990s, when id Software put their videogame Doom on a server and let players download part of the game for free. Later, players created freeware versions of level maps, monster and player models, game items, sound-effects, and entire game packs – some of them better than the original games.
            Since the mid-1990s, videogames have proliferated from computers and console systems to handheld devices and cellphones. This has meant a drastic expansion of the videogame audience, from First World consumers and Second World professionals, to Second World consumers and Third World professionals. In fact, I would argue that the 3D videogame has revolutionized our sense of space, in precisely the same fashion that the cellphone has revolutionized our sense of time.1
            This aesthetic revolution presents cultural critics with a thorny set of problems, not least of which is the issue of technological literacy. All the interpretive problems we face when analyzing a text are compounded tenfold by the overwhelming size, scale and complexity of the information culture. This is where Adorno’s concepts become indispensable: the constellation and the micrology, when properly used, function very much the theoretical versions of a Web-browser and a search engine, respectively.
            Let’s start with the micrology – Adorno’s variation of Google, if you will. What the micrology teaches us is that the 3D videogame can only be understood by reference to its own specific aesthetic field, i.e. electronic media, as opposed to its reappropriation of other aesthetic forms. Videogames must be fundamentally playable, as opposed to being fundamentally watchable, listenable or readable. This has an interesting corollary in terms of the sheer wealth of technological means available to videogame writers and designers. One would think that all these technologies would make the task of producing viable games easier, but just the reverse is true – the more the forces of aesthetic production develop, the greater the pressure on the relations of aesthetic production to keep pace. Nowadays, videogame designers have to balance game flow, player motivation, skill balance, playability, replayability, interactivity, single-player vs. multiplayer forms, sound-track, scripting, and many other things besides. Good games will blend all these effects into a seamless whole; truly great games will reinvent all these things, pushing them into a whole new direction, or rearranging an existing library of effects into a new synthesis.
            Examples of good games include Id Software’s Quake games, which spawned true 3D and multiplayer gaming in the early to mid-1990s, Capcom’s Devil May Cry, a nifty action-adventure thriller with some wonderful action moves, and Hideo Kojima’s Metal Gear Solid 3, which has a subpar plot but wonderful game design. Rockstar’s wonderfully creative Grand Theft Auto 3 series and Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda series also deserve honorable mention here, as marvels of game balance and design. That said, truly great games are as rare as great novels. My own position is that there are indeed a few, most notably Valve Software’s Half Life (1998), the first great 3D single-player videogame, which created the art of texture design and modding; Neil Manke’s They Hunger mods (2000-01), which revolutionized the Half Life engine and game scripting in general; and finally Remedy Software’s Max Payne (2001), the first third-person classic of the 21st century, which invented bullet-time and raised game-scripting to a whole new level.
            Due to reasons of time, I’m going to focus on Half Life, and I want to begin by sketching out some of the main features of the contemporary mass media. While videogame sales are larger than the box office receipts of film, videogames as a whole make up only a small part of the entire media industry. Total advertising revenues are roughly three times as large as total media revenues:


Table 1. Mass media markets in US. Data: NPD, ZenithOptimedia, Wedbush Morgan Securities


Category
US Sales 2003
Composition
Videogames (hardware plus software)
$11.2 billion
Console software 58%, total hardware 31%, PC software 11%
Cinema (box office)
$10.1 billion
---
DVD and videotape sales
$22.5 billion
(64% sales, 36% rentals)
Total media 
$43.8 billion



Table 2. Ad markets in US, 2003. Data: ZenithOptimedia

Category of Advertising
US Ad Markets 2003
Print advertising
$51.4 billion
TV advertising
$48.9 billion
Internet
$6.5 billion
Other (radio, billboard, etc.)
$21.2 billion
Total
$128 billion


Surprising as it sounds, this advertising stream is not driven by pictures, but by texts – local newspapers and magazines are 40.1% of all ad spending, TV makes up 38.1%, while the Internet amounts to only 5.1% of total spending ($6.5 billion).2 The picture is similar elsewhere on the planet. In 2004, Zenith Optimedia noted that the ratio of ad spend to GDP has held steady in the US and EU, at about 1.4% and 0.9%, respectively, while Japan’s ad spend was 0.7% of its GDP.3 To make a long story short, text is the once and future king of the media jungle.

Table 3. Ad Spending as Percent of GDP. Source: Eurostat and World Bank data from 2003, Zenith Optimedia, Nikkei Weekly4, Business Korea5, UK TradeInvest6, based on 2003 exchange rates (1.2 US dollars = 1 euros = 0.7 British pounds = 129 Japanese yen)

Country or Region
Ad Spending as Percent of GDP
Ad Spend in Billion EUR
US
1.4%
108
Europe
0.9%
78
Japan
0.7%
27.2
Asia-Pacific (excluding Japan)
1%
30.8
of which: China
0.9%
10.5
of which: Korea
1%
4.5
of which: remainder
Asia-Pacific
1%
15.8
Latin America
1%
21.8
India
0.5%
2.5
World
1%
285.6



Table 4. Ad Spending by Type. Source: The Media in Europe 2004, ZenithOptimedia 2004, Nikkei Weekly, UK TradeInvest. European data from 2000, 2001 and 2002, US and Japanese data from 2003.

Country 
All print as % of total ad spend
TV as % of total ad spend 
Ratio of print to TV
Switzerland 
71.0% 
13.0% 
5.5
Finland 
73.5% 
18.2% 
4.0
Ireland 
63.0% 
19.0% 
3.3
Sweden 
68.9% 
23.2% 
3.0
UK 
64.9% 
25.1% 
2.6
Austria 
55.4% 
23.0% 
2.4
India 
50.0%
30.0%
1.7
Denmark 
33.0% 
16.0% 
2.1
France 
45.2% 
30.1% 
1.5
Norway 
53.9% 
38.8% 
1.4
Slovenia 
46.3% 
35.1% 
1.3
Japan
43.0%
33.0%
1.3
Greece 
51.8% 
43.5% 
1.2
Germany 
48.5% 
42.8% 
1.1
Spain 
45.0% 
42.6% 
1.1
US
40.1%
38.1%
1.1
Netherlands 
41.2% 
45.0% 
0.9
Belgium 
36.1% 
43.2% 
0.8
Czech Rep 
37.0% 
46.0% 
0.8
Slovakia 
34.8% 
46.6% 
0.7
Italy 
35.3% 
58.2% 
0.6
Poland 
32.8% 
65.1% 
0.5
Hungary 
27.5% 
59.5% 
0.5


Print and text literacy are not disappearing in the brave new world of video and the Web. Rather, they are becoming even more important. Though we academics often lament the decline of reading, as if there was some Golden Age of literacy, what’s really happening is that the form of reading is changing. Our students don’t necessarily read long novels, but they do read plenty of messages, and decode astonishing amounts of information via email, text messaging and the Web.
            Bearing all this in mind, let’s turn to the specifics of Half Life, the 1998 videogame which ushered in a revolution in game design. Half Life was created by Valve Software, a firm founded by three former Microsoft executives, who cashed in their stock options in the mid-1990s and started their own company. Half Life’s essential narrative premise was an alien invasion on a secret military base – one of the oldest themes of Cold War sci-fi around. But what transformed what could have been a second-rate action game into a stupendous work of art was its script, written by sci-fi and fantasy writer Marc Laidlaw. Laidlaw turned the trope of the Cold War alien invasion on its head, creating an allegory of a predatory interstellar neoliberalism which literally and figuratively overwhelms the US Empire’s military-industrial complex. Laidlaw’s script also depicts the creation of a new type of class solidarity between global professionals, factory-workers and benevolent aliens, who have to fight for their survival against the death squads of the US Empire and villainous neoliberal aliens.
            What made Half Life so remarkable was its capacity to borrow from so many aesthetic genres, all at once. It borrowed its storyline from Cold War sci-fi, its inventory system from console games, its skeletal animation system from the animation industry, its voice-acting from the radio industry (thanks to the superb voice acting of Bay Area radio artist Harry “Hal” Robbins), its character-system from text-based role-playing games, its sound-track from the sonic vocabulary of late 1990s hip hop and techno, and its basic imagery from Cold War science fiction. The game even borrowed its graphics engine: the basic software which depicts the scenery and gameplay is a licensed variation of Id Software’s Quake 2 engine.
            What Half Life did which no other game had done before, however, was to bring all of these elements into compositional balance. One of the biggest reasons for the production of bad videogames is that the culture-industry is forever trying to convert one brand of cultural capital into another – a book into a movie, a movie into a videogame, a videogame into a movie, and so forth. The result is typically a lopsided game, which excels at one or two things, but fails as an aesthetic experience. The videogame version of Return of the King is a case in point: though blessed with outstanding voice acting and a great storyline, the gameplay was frustratingly uneven (with the partial exception of the Southern Gate sequence.) By contrast, the game-play in Half Life is uniformly excellent. Each sequence flows logically into the next, while cleverly scripted in-game events obviate the need for unnecessary exposition. The game-world is highly interactive, and manages to sustain the narrative even when a specific level or sequence doesn’t work as well as it could (for example, the very problematic final levels on Xen). Fellow scientists and security guards will stop to talk to the player-character, and aliens and soldiers really do work as teams, which means players must be quick on their feet and capable of finding creative solutions to problems.
            Half Life also contributed heavily to the development of an open source gaming community – or, put another way, the spread of the open source movement to the 3D videogame field. Beginning with Id Software’s 1993 shareware classic, Doom, fans have spawned entire Web-communities based around popular videogames, where hobbyists can create and download specialized custom modifications, level and strategy guides, player and character models, etc. Unlike many other companies, Valve Software was very supportive and appreciative of the mod community, and encouraged the distribution of mapping tools, guides, and other programs to the Web-community. The result was an explosion of add-on levels and maps, all created by independent, non-profit, non-commercial groups of hobbyists, programmers and fans of the original game.
            Some of the most successful of these mods and maps became new games: Half Life spawned multiplayer games such as Counter Strike and Team Fortress, while level author Neil Manke created a tremendous set of single-player maps for Half Life called They Hunger, which signified a true revolution in 3D map design and scripting.7 (Even today, Half Life and its spin-offs remain the most popular online multiplayer platforms, according to Gamespy’s server statistics.) This was probably the last personal computer game to do this, simply because future console systems will have built-in Web access of some kind (probably a combination of broadband and wireless).


Table 5. Videogame Chronology

Period 
Design Innovations
Games
1960s
Invention of videogame (minicomputer), multiplayer component and elegant code
Space War (1961)
1970s
Arcade and first home consoles
(Atari)
Pong (1972), Breakout (1976), Space Invaders (1978)
1980s
2D platform and maze games (jumpers and scrollers). Console systems: Nintendo Famicom (1985)
Pac Man (1980), Donkey Kong (1981), Centipede (1981), SuperMario (1985)
1990s
Invention of 3D games (1993) and handheld market (first Gameboy 1989)

Simulated 3D 1990-95, true 3D 1996 (first 3D console games arrived in 1996, e.g. SuperMario 64)
Doom, id Software (1994) (multiplayer and shooter design; shareware)
Quake, id Software (1996)
Half Life, Valve Software (1998) (First post-Cold War 3D epic)
2000s
Online gaming, cell phone as platform
They Hunger, Neil Manke (2001-02)
Max Payne, Remedy Software (2001)


I want to close with a few thoughts on where the videogame culture is headed. The next generation of consoles is due out in 2005 – Playstation 3, the Xbox 2, and Nintendo’s Revolution console, all of which will represent a stupendous advance in aesthetic form, far more impressive than the transition from the first Playstation to the second. The most interesting effects, though, will be the rise of local variations of gaming, and in particular cellphone games. This is an area where the EU is particularly strong, due to its homegrown GSM standard for cellphone technology, which has become the leading global form (there are others, like Qualcomm’s CDMA, but GSM runs about 70% of the world’s cellphones). Here are the numbers:

Table 6. The Celling of the World. Source: International Telecommunications Union, Web: www.itu.int/ITU-D/ict/statistics


Category (in millions)
1991
1995
1999
2003
Fixed Telephone Lines
546
689
905
1,210
Mobile Lines
16
91
490
1,329
Mobile as % all lines
2.8%
11.7%
35.1%
52.3%
Personal computers
130
235
435
650
Internet users
4.4
40
277
665
Ratio of mobile lines to computers
12.3%
38.7%
112.6%
204.5%



Cellphones are becoming especially important in East Asia’s semiperiphery. This is important, because by the end of 2004, roughly 80% of all new cellphones are equipped with sophisticated color displays. By the end of 2005, most new phones will have the processing power to run a variety of games – Nokia’s N-Gage QD is just the first in what will be a videogame avalanche.
            What makes cellphones so interesting is their sheer ubiquity. By the end of 2003, there were 95 million second-generation videogame consoles around the world (70 million PS2s, 13.7 million Xboxes, and 13.9 million Nintendo Gamecubes). By comparison, the installed base of Sony’s original Playstation reached 94 million between 1994-2003. Nintendo’s Gameboy sold 121 million units between 1989-2003, while the Gameboy Advance sold 48 million between 2001-2003. These numbers cannot even begin to compare with the 1.5 billion cellphones operational in 2003.


Table 7. Mobile lines in the world. The following 20 states make up 4.34 billion people, or two-thirds of the planet. Note that 3 billion citizens live in countries with 40 or more lines (mobile plus fixed) per 100 residents, another 0.7 billion live in countries with 40 to 20 total lines, while those who have less than 20, have 2.6 billion citizens. (Data: ITU, World Bank, Eurostat)


Rank
State
Mobile Subscribers 2003 (millions)
Population 2003 (millions)
Mobiles per 100
residents 2003 
1
EU
328.3
454
72.3
2
China (including Hong Kong)
276.2
1,294
21.5
3
US 
158.7
290 
54.7
4
Japan 
86.7
127
68.2
5
Brazil 
46.4
182
25.5
6
South Korea    
33.6
48
69.6
7
Russia 
32.8
145
22.7
8
Mexico 
30.9
105
29.5
9
Turkey 
27.9
68
41.0
10
India 
26.2
1,050
2.5
11
Taiwan 
25.1
23
111.0
12
Philippines 
22.5
85
26.6
13
Thailand 
21.8
64
33.9
14
South Africa 
16.9
43
39.5
15
Australia 
14.3
20
72.5
16
Canada 
13.2
32
41.0
17
Indonesia 
11.7
235
5.0
18
Malaysia 
11.1
23
48.1
19
Morocco 
7.3
32
23.0
20
Saudi Arabia
7.2
24
29.6 


Table 8. Largest potential markets. The below group has 772 million citizens and very low rates of mobile usage.


State
Mobile Subscribers 2003 (millions)
Population 2003 (millions)
Mobiles per 100 residents 2003
Egypt
5.8
75
7.7
Iran
3.4
68
5.0
Nigeria
3.1
134
2.3
Vietnam
2.7
82
3.3
Pakistan
2.7
151
1.8
Bangladesh
1.4
138
1.0
Congo (Dem. Rep.)
1.0
57
1.8
Ethiopia
0.1
67
0.1


            Cellphones also tend to follow the logic of the open source revolution much more closely than computers or consoles, which are specialized, proprietary electronic appliances. There is one remarkable anticipation of cellphone gaming in Half Life, and that is a sequence where your player-character launches a satellite into orbit, described elsewhere at the end of my book on information culture, Satellite Uplink:8

“...After the backblast of the launch dissipates, a giant rotating hologram of the Earth appears in the control room, accompanied by a sound-track comprised of half fuzz-guitar and half electronic feedback. The hologram refers back to one of the very first symbols of globalization in the story, namely the sign in the Anomalous Materials lab, which depicts a rectangular area map of the world embossed with the transparent Black Mesa logo. That is, a two-dimensional global mapping technology, associated with the military-industrial labs of the Cold War, has been transformed into a reflexive symbol of the 3D videogame culture. (Conversely, the post-launch sound-track is the global update of the ethereal, hollow electronic background music of the opening tram ride.)”
          “This reappropriation of the Cold War satellite by a multinational gaming culture chimes with one of the key developments of the late 1990s, and that is the emergence of post-American media infrastructures, everywhere from the GSM standard for mobile phones to the European Union’s independent satellite communications system, the Galileo project. It is deeply symbolic that Half Life begins precisely as it ends, namely with Gordon Freeman inside a tramcar. The key difference is that the scenic vistas of Black Mesa in the opening scene have been replaced by the stylized light-trails of stars, hurtling past at warp speed. Connoisseurs of potboiler Cold War spy fiction will note this scene parodies one of the fundamental clichés of the genre, i.e. the concluding debriefing in a London or Washington, DC office. Fittingly, it is Half Life’s tramcar – that archetypal symbol of urban public space, available elsewhere in the polarized central business districts of films ranging from the Wachowskis’ The Matrix (1999) to David Fincher’s Fight Club (1999) – which incarnates Freeman’s symbolic leap from the Cold War underground to the open source resistances of the Information Age.”







Endnotes

1. Although videogames are often derided as expensive toys for privileged First World engineers or as mere children’s entertainment, the reality is that videogames have become a hegemonic aesthetic form of multinational capitalism. Global videogame sales are larger than global cinema box office receipts, and the videogame industry continues to grow at rates of between 10-15% a year. Latest of all, online gaming is taking off – the Korean Game Development and Promotion Institute has estimated that total revenues of online Korean games will rise from $233 million in 2001 to about $640 million in 2004. (About a fifth of this latter, or roughly $143 million, will consist of foreign royalties.)
For a fuller account of the 3D videogame, see Chapter 5 of my text, Satellite Uplink: http://www.efn.org/~dredmond/PP5.html

2. Suzanne Vranica, “US Ad Spending Rose by 6.1% in 2003.” Wall Street Journal, March 9, 2004 (B6). Note that Vranica cites data from TNS Media Intelligence/CMR.

3. Web: www.zenithoptimedia.com/pubsmain.htm (2004). Note further that
ZenithOptimedia forecast global ad spend at $343 billion in 2004 (“The harder hard sell: the future of advertising.” June 26, 2004 edition of The Economist).

4. Nikkei Weekly, December 15, 2003

5. Business Korea, “Advertising Revenues and its Growth by Year”, April 2004, pg 49. This article estimated that 2002 ad revenues in Korea at about $5.4 billion, or 1% of GDP; although Korea is one of the most wired countries on the planet, only 2.9% of this was online advertising.

6. TradeInvest (www.trade.uktradeinvest.gov.uk/creative/india/profile/overview.shtml) estimated India’s ad spend as follows: print 50%, TV 30%, outdoor 16%, radio 2% and the internet 2%. The same report also estimates that the 2003 Indian mass media market was about twice as large as ad spend, generating $4.97 billion of output (roughly 1% of GDP). The shares of the media market look like this: TV revenues (broadcasting plus programming receipts) 65.6%, film 19.3%, music 4.5%, videogames 4.5%, radio 1% and live entertainment 1%.

7. See Chapter 6 of my own Satellite Uplink: http://www.efn.org/~dredmond/PP6.html

8. See Chapter 5 of my own Satellite Uplink: http://www.efn.org/~dredmond/PP5.html