Speeding and Braking Talk: Part 2 'Human Buffering'

Human Buffering.

An accelerated and compressed version of this was delivered at The Speeding and Braking: Navigating Accleration conference organised by SARU at Goldsmiths College University of London on 14/05/2016.

Part 1 here


Let's return to Berardi consider a particular dynamic that our accelerated speech is symptomatic of. Increased syllabic intensity is a symptom of the pressures and demands or semiocapitalism. We can consider this connection, between semiocapitalism and voice in terms of two key Berardian ideas. The infosphere and the psychosphere – or two use two other Berardian terms cyberspace and cybertime. The infosphere and cyberspace are ever expanding, getting faster, denser, more complex and detailed. The exponential growth of data capacities, corresponding to Moore’s Law seem limitless. Cyberspace and the Infosphere never cease exploding. But our engagement, that is cybertime (how long we can distractedly look at the internet) and psychosphere (our collective psychological capacities) are not boundless like the infosphere and cyberspace. We have our limit.

Our speed limit is manifested in multiple ways. In terms of cognition and the absorbtion of text we now look at our endless email rather than reading them. “Did you read the email?” is a common question, precisely because no one actually reads email anymore. We no longer engage deeply with music – we download discographies that go unlistened or flit randomly through YouTube videos or streaming services. In terms of voice, whilst we may attempt to speak faster and faster, our brain cannot keep up. We say um, err, use vapid filler words and phrases. Everyone has some vocal manifestation of a speed limit a stutter, a pause, a gestural tick, a familiar embellishment of phrase: “y’know”.

More specifically, when we cannot keep up, we might croak. Our voice is reduced to vocal fry. As our syntax overrides our respiration, as our finite brains struggle with a cognitive-motor-syllabic pile up we croak, drawling the gravelly phonic register of our human buffering. Although vocal fry is defined as using the lowest register of the voice (a croaky, creaky, sort of sound) I feel that in practice it is an affect that comes into to hide our cognitive buffering and braking of our syllabic delivery. This is particularly noticeable in the youtube example.

“Women exhibiting a low-pitched, creaky voice known as "vocal fry" are considered less competent, educated, trustworthy, attractive and hirable, according to research from Duke University's Fuqua School of Business.

“The researchers conducted an experiment using 800 online listeners split evenly between men and women. The listeners were randomly assigned to listen to either seven male voices or seven female voices that alternated between vocal fry and normal tones of voice. The listeners were then asked to judge the examples for competence, education, trustworthiness and attractiveness. The experiment found a strong aversion to voices exhibiting vocal fry, particularly among women. “

There is a heavy gender bias here, a hypocritical bias too. The male voices with exactly the same vocal affect were not received as negatively as the female voices containing the same method of speech braking (the vocal fry). As the video points out, this has a strong implication for career prospects. Many hiring decisions are based on initial impressions. Women who possess an identical vocal affect to their male counterpart are regarded in a grossly negative manner. This is inequality and normative bias revealing itself in the way voices and our braking methods are heard and interpreted. In essence the method of braking syllabic delivery and the ways we affect our voice to slow down our delivery under the pressures of semiocapitalism are arbitrary in terms of prejudice – prejudice can be applied retroactively to any affect or braking method with no logic other than it’s prejudice: there is no right way to speak or delay one’s speech, only supposedly, right forms of speaker who can employ affects to positive effect that when used by another would be regarded negatively. Further to this I’d suggest that the discriminatory gender bias in terms of the American vocal fry is another subtle form of women being persecuted for any form of control over their own bodies: don’t brake, keep up honey.

In Britain there is a very prevalent vocal fry associated with a certain class and a certain geographic area: the charming Home Counties croak of the masculine vocal fry – “Yah”. Again, there is normative prejudice inherent in this. The affect that imbues the speaker baritone privilege in one instance may sully another with common coarseness of voice in another. Prejudice follows no logic other than its own, vocal traits are arbitrary. We can also see similar double standards with other cognitive-syllabic braking methods. We can regard the class distinction between the charming Oxbridge debating society stutter (heard on Radio 4, HIGNFY, Question Time) and other stutters in the same way. One seems granted authority and gravitas, whereas the other is regarded as a speech impediment, an inability to speak. In the same sense we can consider the use of filler words to buy time. Politicans, who relentlessly parrot empty phraseology as testament to Burroughs’ claim, are seemingly allowed filler phrases like ‘robust’ and ‘now look here now’ whereas other phrases that serve exactly the same cognitive motor-syllabic deceleration purpose, may be taken up as less authoritative, informed or capable. Filler terms such as ‘um’, ‘you know’, ‘well I think’, ‘to be honest’ etc are seldom granted the same privilege as patrician stutters or elite-class parroting.

There are many forms of how our speed limit is manifested when our neuro-vocal abilities fall short of the accelerating demands media-saturated semiocapitalism. We all have our speed limit. Recognizing how deeply the contemporary environment affects our bodies and minds is important. But so too is recognising the politically ingrained hypocrisies that surround the different ways we brake, buffer, hesitate and pause.


Berardi, F, 2009. Precarious Rhapsody: Semiocapitalism and the pathologies of the post-alpha generation. Minor Compositions. London.
Jukes, I, 2010. Understanding the Digital Generation: Teaching and Learning in the New Digital Landscape (The 21st Century Fluency Series). Corwin
Karpf, A. 2007. The Human Voice: The Story of a Remarkable Talent. Bloomsbury. London.
Pinker, S. 1994. The Language Instinct. Penguin Books. London Zizek, S. 2008 ‘Language, violence and non-violence.’ International Journal of Zizek Studies 2 (3), 307-316

Speeding and Braking Talk: Part 1 'Life is short: Talk Fast'

Life is short: Talk Fast. 

An accelerated and compressed version of this was delivered at The Speeding and Braking: Navigating Accleration conference organised by SARU at Goldsmiths College University of London on 14/05/2016.


Voice is a partial register not just of who we are but how we are. It reflects, in part, our experience, our trauma, the environment we live in and how we engage – or are required to engage. This is not to suggest that voice is at all analogous to us or where we have been or who we are – we cannot reduce facets of voice to history, class, race or gender – but voice hints at the pressures we face in an oblique manner. If we are unwell our voice may be hoarse. We may stutter when nervous or if we’ve had too much caffeine. We might slur our speech when intoxicated and slow speech is a symptom of depression. Voice alludes partially to both our corporeal state and our neurological state.

When we speak we are asking our minds and bodies to do something virtuosic. Not only do we master dexterous and complex acrobatics and contortions of our tongue, glottis lips and teeth but we also time our breath to the sentences we utter. As Pinker notes: “Syntax overrides carbon dioxide: we suppress the delicately tuned feedback loop that controls our breathing rate to regulate oxygen intake, and instead we time our exhalations to the length of the phrase or sentence we intend to utter.” (Pinker, 1994, p.164). Strange, that even our respiratory rhythm, that automatic inhale and exhale that sounds softly in our slumber, doesn’t take precedence of language. The only other activity that trumps respiratory needs is swimming underwater – but during this activity we are, sometimes painfully, aware of our respiratory need. It is odd how little we notice speech overtaking the most basic needs of our body: breath. Without thinking our urge to communicate, to gesture, usurps our need for air. And isn’t there something romantic about the body dying for its voice? Recall the straining apoplectic rock-star or the self-sacrificing siren of the stage offering generous self-annihilation for voice, for our sadistic ears. Voice is a profound crux of how our bodies are subjected to what Zizek calls “the torture house of language”.

Given that voice is traumatic already, given that we already let it usurp our need for air and requisition parts of our body made for respiration and nourishment for the sake of speech, why do we persist in speaking faster and faster? In Precarious Rhapsody Berardi references a study by Richard Robin:

"Evidence suggests that globalisation has produced faster speech emission rates in areas of the world where the Western mode of transmission of signs has come to replace traditional and authoritarian ones. For instance, in the ex-Soviet Union the speed of transmission measured in syllables per second has almost doubled since the fall of the communist regime: from three to almost six syllables per second. ; similar findings reached the same conclusions in the Middle East and China’ (Robin, 1991: 403)." [1]

The import from this study is clear: there is a relationship of syllabic speed to capitalism. The pressures of competition and production are reflected in the speed of speech. More specifically, the accelerating demands of semiocapitalism that exploit our communicative and cognitative capabilities, is reflected in our voices… in syllabic speed. The business of talking faster…

I remember being particularly thrilled watching American TV on Channel 4 in the late 90’s and early 00’s. I’d come home from school or college and, gawping at the quick fire, gag-a-second, energetic and snappy sitcoms I’d feel a distinct sense of speed. Everyone seemed to talk so fast. The prim, vaguely New York, dialects of the characters seemed like syllabic machine guns. The immediacy of the retorts, the dialogue’s unrelenting pace sounded out in stark contrast to the familiar monosyllabic plodding of Coronation Street, Eastenders, Porridge or Only Fools and Horses.

Of course, much of this has to do with the way American shows are created. They tend to have more words to fit into a show from the outset – more jokes to fit in, so to speak. British shows tend to be written by fewer people (often one or two writers) whereas it is much more typical for American shows to be written by small army of hyper-caffeinated hotshot scriptwriters. A good example of this is The Gilmore Girls – a show known for its fast-paced dialogue. Ken Honeywell comments that this is, in part, the result of how long the script for each episode is – much longer than the average show script: “while scripts for most TV shows of that length are 40 – 50 pages long, Gilmore girls scripts were known to hit 80 pages.”[2]

Frasier too, has, fast speech as a direct result of increasing communicative content being crammed into a finite timeslot. But for Frasier it was not due to the script being long. Frasier has had accelerated syllabic intensities as a direct result of from market forces. Karpf references an article by Aaron Barnhart: “Speeded-up Frasier Gives KSMO extra Ad-time”. That describes how once a Kansas TV station sped up Frasier episodes to fit more adverts into the slot: “American television now routinely speeds up sitcoms and compresses speech in order to fit in more ads. If ‘Frasier’ seems to talk faster on one affiliate station than on another that’s probably because he is talking faster – the station has accelerated the episode.” (Karpf, 2007, p.44)

Gilmore Girls, Frasier, Friends, Will and Grace, The Big Bang Theory, Sex and the City and shows similar are manifestations of the Richard Robin study cited by Berardi in a dramatic microcosm. Syllabic speed is intensified, accelerated, as a result of the requirement to fit more and more content within a finite timeframe. Increasing densities of content, more and more communicative semiotics are forcibly compressed within a finite time-frame as a result of late capitalism. The pressures of providing ever snappier and exciting sitcom content or the simple technological acceleration of the video playback in order to fit additional advertisements result in fast talking.

Of course, in life we do not need to worry about when the credits come up. But we are pressed for time. We need to communicate in ever-faster ways, with more people, about more complex topics – but the day is still only so long. We have, perhaps felt this pressure whilst giving a presentation or during an interview – we talk faster in the hope of getting more in. But there is another dynamic behind accelerated syllabic delivery. It is, to half-quote Burroughs, connected to how “language is a virus”. When we are speaking to each another our speed and rhythms fall into synchronicity. If the other is speaking quickly we quicken our pace too.

We do this for many reasons but mostly it is a subconscious, pre-perceptual, action. We mirror and mimic the speech rate of the other more than we realise. A large part of speech is neuro-motorlogical. Speech is, in a sense, neurologically rooted in gesture and the neural mirroring that occurs as a consequence of hearing or seeing gestures has firm evidence. For example, when we see a smile our brains mirror the neurological protocols for when we smile, hence why you should always smile on dating profiles – not because grinning, alone, into a webcam is a fun or happy task but because the hopeful viewer of our smile will experience the neurological protocols concomitant to their own smile: happiness. We should smile at the camera so that the other, through no conscious contemplation but on a sub-conscious level, feel the feelings connected to their own smile. We should smile in the hope of emotionally affecting the other. Disgust is a similarly contagious gesture and one of neuroscience’s strongest evidencing of neural mirroring. When we see another vomit we often feel nauseous too. Likewise, and especially because language speaking and cognition is intrinsically gesture based in neurological terms, when we speak to someone we tend to fall into a similar tempo without realising it. If someone lists numbers as we are trying to count, either out-loud or without speaking, we lose count. The degree to which the other’s voice and the language it carries gets under our skin and into our heads cannot be overstated. Syllabic acceleration is contagious on the basis of subconscious neural mirroring across temporalities in order to maximize communicative efficiency. We tend to match our speech rates to the other.

Similar tempos of speech are more easily cognized. As we listen we look ahead and map out a future rate of delivery. Falling into tempo with the other is as much a part of syllabic gesture mirroring as it is about out temporal and rhythmic attentions of listening manifesting itself through our own vocal delivery in response. In a sense, if the other speaks at the same rate as us then cognizing efficiency is maximized. Easy listening. “We think people who speak in a similar tempo to our own are more competent and more attractive than those who go slower” (Karpf, 2007, p.43) As we speed up, others will do so too – not just as a pre-perceptual affect of neurological mirroring but because we tend to talk more to people we engage deeply with. So, in turn, we expose ourselves to others who have similarly accelerated speech and, of course, mirror, mimic and respond with similar rapidity.

Given that we mirror and mimic the speech we are exposed to it is important to consider what types of speech we expose ourselves to. A lot of our exposure is technologically afforded. MP3’s with high tempo and frenetic sample based musics blot out the organic babble of the crowd. Social spaces are flooded with the humanly impossibly vocal licks of contemporary electronic popular music. We spend hours watching television programs that contain accelerated syllabic content for laughs or advertisement space. Hyper-spliced, energetically cut and chopped YouTube videos that omit any hesitance, pause or delay from the speaker are a growing online video aesthetic. Today our exposure is as much to post-human, technologically accelerated syllabic intensities as it those within the human remit of syllabic delivery frequencies. The majority of our exposure is not the humdrum organicism of conversation but the accelerated form of media. For the past few generations a synthetic, technological, relationship to voice has been naturalized – the baby monitor, at once transmitting and amplifying the infant’s cry to the mother, is the ubiquitous exemplar of how post-human our cries and hearkening have become. Berardi, referencing Rose Golden, notes this shift: “For the first time in human history, there is a generation that has learnt more words and heard more stories from the televisual machine than from its mother” (Berardi, 2009, p.9 – referencing Rose Golden from 1975).

Of course, the profound influence of the info-blitz is not limited to sound and voice. It does extend to visual information processing. A recently uncovered example of this is the difference in automatic eye movements between digital readers (i.e. post internet generation) and non-digital readers. In short digital reading follows in F shaped eye movement, scanning the first paragraph and taking heed of a subheading but ultimately shifting down quickly and neglecting text on the lower right hand-side of the screen. Google refers to this as “the golden triangle” of attention. “the bottom line is that digital bombardment has changed reading patterns. Increasingly digital readers tend to unconsciously ignore the right side and bottom half of the page and tend to only read content in those areas if they are highly motivated to do so.” (Jukes, 2010, p.28). This is not surprising, consider, following Berardi’s citation of Golden the following in contrast to an individual whose formative years were pre-info blitz:

“by the time they’re 21, the digital generation will have played more than 10,000 hours of video games, sent and received 250,000 emails and text/instant messages, spent 10,000 hours talking on phones, and watched more than 20,000 hours of television and 500,000 commercials (and most assuredly these estimates are on the extreme low side). Almost none of these experiences our parent or we had while we were growing up” (Juke, 2010, p.29)

20,000 hours, at least, of exposure to technologically accelerated and artificially energetic and content dense speech manifests in our increased syllabic deliveries. 500,000 instances of attention being honed on the ultra-quick delivery of terms and conditions closing monologues, again, conditions us for maximized verbal efficiency and ever increased language processing speeds.

But it is not just that we accelerate one another and learn our words from artificially overdriven syllabic media contents. We consume psychotropic stimulants too. The ubiquity of coffee in pre-crash American sitcoms is notable. Friends, Frasier, The Gilmore Girls and many other shows tend to revolve around the semi-sacred importance of consuming coffee. Coffee, has been romanticized in propaganda by the media networks of late capitalism. First coffee of the day is important but so too is meeting for coffee after ‘work’. Similarly many characters, after a date, late at night, offer more sleep denying elixir to one another. Drink up! Be quick and productive in your precarious endeavors! Not only is the organism accelerated by the requirements and interactions of hyper-drive communicative semiocapitalism but also psychotropically accelerated, catalyzed on a chemical level – we caffeinate our minds and bodies to peak-jibbering efficiency.

The contemporary coffee shop (notably pitched as social space but mis-used by many as a solitary and dislocated workstation) is a catalyzing syllabic intensifier – a feedback furnace that accelerates our speech. The contemporary coffee shop is a capitalist hub, it is an engine of biopolitical acceleration in the service of production, a hive of exacerbating speech and neurological mirroring. Increased syllabic intensities, cutting off our breath, overriding respiration are symptomatic of the shows we watch, the coffee we drink and the accelerated others we mirror and mimic.

Part 2 here


Berardi, F, 2009. Precarious Rhapsody: Semiocapitalism and the pathologies of the post-alpha generation. Minor Compositions. London.
Jukes, I, 2010. Understanding the Digital Generation: Teaching and Learning in the New Digital Landscape (The 21st Century Fluency Series). Corwin
--> Karpf, A. 2007. The Human Voice: The Story of a Remarkable Talent. Bloomsbury. London. Pinker, S. 1994. The Language Instinct. Penguin Books. London
Zizek, S. 2008 ‘Language, violence and non-violence.’ International Journal of Zizek Studies 2 (3), 307-316

[1] Robin 1991: 403 cf Berardi 2009: 112
[2] http://www.punchnels.com/2011/08/22/life-is-short-talk-fast-ten-reasons-why-i-love-gilmore-girls/ (last accessed 15/05/2016)
[3] http://www.fuqua.duke.edu/news_events/news-releases/1034232/#.VzMu0WZOGC4
last accessed 15/05/2016.

These Old Ears (Part 2)

The day I posted the previous blog I watched The One Show on BBC1. I love and hate The One Show - it is a Patridgesque calamity, a slo-mo awkwardness of fudged links and vacuous enthusiasm. For me it is a very British show. Much of The One Show is made up of idle banter and chit-chat. Nothing much is touched upon in any depth. Often stand-up comedians, offering lackluster promotions of their latest arena tour, provide sofa-side opinion on social topics touched upon in regular cutaway sections. For the most part these focus on food labelling, parking charges or scams. They tap into the consumer anxieties of middle england - the lacunae of legistlation for vehicle clamping, for example. The presenters often add 'we'll keep you updated on that' but I've never seen any update or reference to previous content. It is groundhog day, back-of-a-beer mat, lolloping car crash TV.

On that day, Richard Madeley (of Richard and Judy fame) was on the sofa. I can't remember why. But out of the blue he made a joke, harmless bantering. It was about politicians. He said that when a politician enters the room you can tell immediately. 'They walk differently to us' he said, everyone laughed, he was exaggerating a point about how out of touch politicians are. Then he pressed on 'no, you can always tell, if you're in the green room, as soon as they come in, they have a different way of walking.' The point of politicians being somehow different from us was being exaggerated to absurdity. But Madeley went further still, 'they have different DNA to us' he said. Everyone laughed, he was being preposterous, the presenters pointed out that this was not the view of the BBC. Judy, his wife, added that it was not her view either. For me this is an example of how banter reveals the essence of the subject and, to some degree, the strange disjunct between desire and conscious level wants, needs or demands. Recall Salecl's marvellous dissection of the hidden desire qua mask in the character of Mr. Stevens in Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains Of The Day. “There is nothing behind the mask: it is in the mask, in the veil that seemingly covers the essence of the subject, that we have to search for this essence.” (Salecl, 1996, p.185). Madeley's point, pushed to extreme absurdity was politicians are too different from us and that this is a problem, politicians are not normal enough. But there is another revelation here. It is a revelation about hidden desires and the essence of the subject. Because, in complaining about how politicians are too different and detached, Madeley gave slip to the prole-desire I explored in These Old Ears Part 1. His way of joking and bantering his criticism to absurdity, his mask of not being too political or overtly critical on a light hearted show like The One Show, was the veil -  the mask - that reveals his true subjective essence and his desire. In demanding that politicians should be more like us, or in saying that politicians are too out of touch desire was glimpsed. This is the strange difference between desire and demand. “Although it always shows through in demand, as we see here, desire is nevertheless beyond demand” (Lacan, Ecrits, p.634).

To push the point further, Madeley's comments are akin to the folksy saying that aristocracy 'have blue blood in their veins' or the smirking question of 'if the queen goes to the toilet'. It is a comment riddled with desire recognition. Recognition of the other. Desire does not want or need in any literal sense but it does insist, so to speak, on two particular things: recognition and reproduction. In positing that a ruling class is of a different biology, (blue blood, different DNA) or by failing to imagine their excretory processes being similar to our own recognition is inscribed. It is inscribed because it is always recognition from the Other. Madeley's comment does not call for a recognition of  differences but insists on absurd differences in order to allow recognition - to make the ruling Other in more (m)Otherly, and thus satisfying recognition as structured position within a social language.

“The necessary and sufficient reason for the repetitive insistence of these desires in the transference and their permanent remembrance in a signifier that repression has appropriated – that is, in which the repressed returns – is found if one accepts the idea that in these determinations the desire for recognition dominates the desire that is to be recognised, preserving it as such until it is recognised” (Ecrits, 431).

But there is a second aspect to this absurd comment about how politicians have different DNA to the rest of us. It is because it reflects what the subject presumes the Other to desire. In terms of class difference this is precisely that, a difference of some sort.

“To return psychoanalysis to a veridical path, it is worth recalling that analysis managed to go so far in the revelation of man’s desires only by following, in the veins of neurosis and the marginal subjectivity of the individual, the structure proper to a desire that thus proves to model it at an unexpected depth – namely, the desire to have his desire recognised. This desire, in which it is literally verified that man’s desire is alienated in the other’s desire, in effect structures the drives discovered in analysis, in accordance with all the vicissitudes of the logical substitutions in their source, aim, and object” (Ecrits, 343).
Thus, Madeley's comment played out a verification of desire for the Other, that is the desire of the Other, via his bantering mask of suggesting they are fundamentally different. The presumption that the Other's desire is to be seen as different constitutes our desires. It is the essence of these desires that slip every now and then (parading as masks, veils and costumes, cloaked in banter, joking like grotesque court jesters) in the inane and mundane surface of language. Our prole-desire leaks out as a veil at every turn - like when, one the first day of a job or at an interview we are too quick to snap out how much we are looking forward to the work, or that we feel enthusiastic for the job. On the one hand these are psychopathic facades of conscious level insincerity (a prerequisite skill for modern life) but they are also telling registers of our desire. It is desire as desire for desire of the Other. Madeley's demand that politicians should not be so different, cloaked in the veil of jest, is a demand - it is a demand that is very different from desire but still absolutely driven by desire. The desire is, of course, the desire for the recognition of the other. It is a recognition presumed, by the subject, to be achievable by satiating the Other's absurd desire for a difference to be acknowledged by the subject, the prole. I wonder if Madeley thought Cameron was watching. I bet on some level he hoped he was.

The positive to take from this is that even though desire drives demand and want, and even though desire is in a sense the desire of the Other, that Other can be change. Change will come when recognition is desired from a different place. The putting to language of this desire, via free association, dialogue, jokes and banter is the process of moving the dialectic of demands and wants on from the drives of desire. Desire and its dynamic with the Other will remain - but we can change what and how desire drives our wants and demands. This is possible. The Other, too, can be taken in different forms, the precise political shape of the Other is not fixed. By bantering into awkward significance the dynamic of our demands and desire we may begin to move from the politico-desire stasis of today.

These Old Ears

Over the past few weeks the British media has been a blizzard of speculation, analysis and opinion about the UK General Election. On the BBC there were some striking graphics, the likes of which not seen since the Commodore 64. On the election night live coverage there was a bounty of stilted segues and awkwardly juddering transfers, interruptions and announcements. The back-of-a-beer-mat ‘monkey tennis’ of The One Show looked effortlessly slick by comparison. Nothing provides slow-motion tragedy with such quintessentially grating inertia as the BBC in full-on national-event mode. There was a lot of talk about hung parliaments (not literally). Various possible permutations of coalition were suggested and proposed. These dialogues were overtly metaphorical, mostly playing on the premise of likening political partnerships to some notion of sub-dom heteronormative marriage. 'Who will get into bed with who?' they winked and nudged like it wasn’t a joke fit for retirement before the last election five years previously. Many politicians were pestered by some careerist hack mistakenly caught up in the fervour of national interest. ‘No, but, would you, perhaps, if that was the case, consider getting into bed with X?’ barked relentlessly from all channels. The politicians did well here – admirably stoic. Each party leader mustered a mix of flummoxed exasperation and statesman like ignorance. No party committed to any coalition promise. Instead there was a din of politicians fighting back with robust Oxbridge stutters. Speculations were strafed. Questions fought with questions. Often a question about the future government was met with statesman-like refusals. It seemed that any commitment or promise about the country a few weeks later was irresponsible… So between telling the electorate about the minutiae of how the economy, subject to global economic forces, will be micro-managed to ultra-productivity-cum-utopian-meritocracy the politicians said things like: ‘Now, look here now, let me be clear here, I'll tell you simply now that, frankly, I couldn't possibly comment.’... However, despite all this and the accompanying journalistic treading of water there was one clear consensus. It was a presupposition, a given, a sure thing. It was that there would be no clear winner, no majority. The chanted mantra was ‘that it was the most unpredictable election for decades’. ‘Too close to call!’ ‘Neck and neck!’ The only thing we can be sure about, exclaimed the slightly different models of journo Replicants, is that there will be no majority. Then, on Friday, the Conservative Party won a majority.

The thoughts I want to put forward today are not comforting. They offer no clear path of escape. They offer little hope. But I feel the task at hand is always to get a grip on the root of the problems we face. The problem with little Hans was not his repetition. That was the symptom of some deeper problem. His incessant throwing and hiding of the spool was a facet of the symptom too. No, the problem for Hans was the absence. He was coming to terms with absence via the action of playing the fort/da game. Hans had a problem, an absence. To resolve this, to understand and come to terms with the absence he played the problem out via the symbolic order - by hiding the spool, a symbolic gesture, and creating an absence, and repeating the action.

My main argument is that people desire peasantry, prole-dom and exploitation. We love the hell of culture diminishing to little more that retro-manic cover bands. Pop retro cubed! We adore the Kasabian mimicry of pop culture (Kasabian, mimicking Oasis mimicking The Beatles). We love the third-rate reality TV talent show soul singers, mimicking recently dead rich soul star wannabes who themselves, six or so years previously, copied soul singers from 60 years ago. Pop is now a grotesque sonic taxidermy - all form and facade without a trace of vitality. Pop is lifeless. There is something undead, zombied and uncanny about the smoothness of One Direction and the eerily asexualized toff-ee sweetness of Ed Sheeran...

We dote on our flickering iPhone alerts and hunch over our generic (through market monopoly) state issue MacBook Pros or private enterprise Dell workhorses at 1am, nurturing spreadsheets and pointless, powerless, Powerpoint presentations. The paradoxical frenzy of quantification (I thought we had computers for this) is dear to our hearts. We nurture these pointless exercises and tasks like they are a newborn human...

We need our coffee too – that fashionable stimulant of choice for the productive culture. Drink it when working, drink it when shopping, dating, waiting or travelling. You can do everything faster. It is a telling register of our yearn for greater exploitation and pillaging - of social values and an acceleration of global capital - that in times of economic recession the coffee industry experienced its highest growth rates… The English proletariat still yearn for a foreman to whip up production, harder, better, faster, stronger… Fuck it; we’ll manifest the role for ourselves. We’ll do it to ourselves clutching our little red corrugated cardboard buckets of dirtied milk… Come on, don’t delay, keep calm and carry on - that mid-season-up-to-15%-off marked-items-only sale won’t last forever now will it? Forget the tilling of yesteryear, now we shop till we drop. The coffee doesn’t have to be good, just consistent, recognisable, ubiquitous and vague. Anything of indistinct origin coupled with some opaque claim of ethicality will suffice.

We don't know our true desire. We only know our deferred objects of desire. Hans wasn’t interested in his spool, or the game of hiding and finding it. He was, at an unconscious level, interested in coming to terms with absence and loss. We may seem to want jewels and fine chariots. We may tell ourselves we want the everlasting holidays and private jets. But we only want these things because they are the deferred objects of our real desire - our peasantry.

There are slippages of our real desires. What happens when we do depart from the grimness clogged motorways? What happens when we leave the cloying bitterness of our damp, creaking and delayed carriages? Outside of the demands of the anonymous serviced office blocks, those monoliths of exploited prole-dom, what do we do? What do we do in that fortnight of respite from cognitive and attentional repression and exploitation? What happens when, half way around the world at some McParadise resort, all glistening paved over jungle or sand, we actually do have the opportunity to relax and be at peace? Why, we log on of course! Just 'catching up' with a few emails. Is not enough to be exploited at the market rate? No no no, that is still not enough for desire! We want more! We want to be exploited more! It is as if, after clocking out of the factory, we nip back in to operate the lathe for a couple hours more. For no reason, certainly not for pay, other than to satisfy our gnashing peasant desires. With each digitalized crack of our self generated spectral foreman’s whip we feel more complete. 'the English employed do not persist in working to somehow survive or escape from the rat race, we - hang on tight and spit on me - enjoy the hysterical, masochistic exhaustion of squabbling it out in the declining economy of this wretched European island, in the serviced offices, the call centres, in hell, our unconscious enjoys it, enjoys the mad destruction of attention, creativity and social life…. we enjoy the decomposition of personal identity, the dissolution of families and villages, and enjoy the monstrous anonymity of the suburbs and the pubs in the morning and the evening.'

Of course, many talk about equality, exploitation and meritocracy but these are just conscious level symbolic order avatars that conceal the real desire. Our gnashing gimp of desire is order, control, repression and exploitation. We want to know our place in the world. Do not think the left are in any way exempt from this. Artists, curators and musicians are independent entrepreneurs. Hans-Ulrich Obrist is just Alan Sugar wrapped in Jill Sander. We’d go mad if there were no fields for tilling. The curators and their 24/7 poly-tasking social networking are in no way different to the LinkdIn project manager. Our immoral and sado-masochistic unconscious does not want change. It wants domination, struggle and exploitation. A register of this can be seen in the juxtaposition between the two major party leaders and how particular facets of their personalities and campaigns were received.

We can look at Ed Miliband first - in particular his speech. Of course, he has a conspicuous tendency for fluffing his lines. He mixes his syllables like a child (like when young children say yellow as lellolow) he tells his jokes backwards, accidentally blurting out the punch line in the midst of stumbling through the opener (http://www.libdemvoice.org/ed-milibands-wonky-pmqs-maths-26054.html). His infamous own goal with Paxman, ‘Am I tuss enough, hell yes I’m tussenuff’ was met with much right wing media sneering. Other than negative electioneering from The Conservatives, these aspects of personality seemed to hurt Labour’s campaign. Why?

Often, in the run up to the election, various ‘workers’ were interviewed, various manufacturing plants gave the impression the UK economy was a booming industrial country. It was almost convincing. The workers were often asked about their reservations for Miliband. Many said that he was not as strong as Cameron - that he was not a strong leader. Others were more blunt and shrugged that Miliband was simply not strong enough. It is strange how revealing this adjective is. Strong – perhaps we were hoping for someone more traditionally authoritative? Someone closer to our vague stereotype of what a dictator should be? Someone who can bawl and snort down an opponent with all the gravelly gravitas that only a brandied privileged neck can offer? Or perhaps there was some suspicion that, should a European leader be required to arm-wrestle Putin for oil, it may be best to have someone with at least a fighting chance?

However, by contrast Cameron’s displays of strength ‘getting pumped up’ were, I argue, his lowest moments in the campaign. He looked foolish, like he’d been told to do so. Worse still, he looked like he half meant it – meaning he almost looked like he thought he needed to try. It was off-putting. I can guess why. We don’t want our leaders to want to lead. We just want some silhouette of a leader for our desire. The moment this mask slips, the moment personality slips into view, or their own emotions, hopes or weaknesses leak through the cracks it seems that our unconscious looks around for a more suitably anonymous object of our true desire… The moment Cameron defaced his veneer of a right to govern along came baby Charlotte, just in time. It seems that like our pop music, our sonic taxidermy, our desire are stuck, the needle skipping, in a bygone era – an era when workers worked and leaders, well, were always there – not absent, like Hans’ predicament.

There is another register of this peculiar desire I would like to focus on. Ed Miliband’s glottal stop. A glottal stop is when a ‘T’ sound is made by halting airflow within the glottis, so a sound is ‘cut’ in the glottis rather than in the oral cavity. In the case of ‘T’ this would be when you push your tongue against your front teeth at the end of ‘post’. David Shariatmadari states that ‘(t)he basic insight of sociolinguistics was that social relationships affect the way we speak. The dynamics of human interaction – hierarchy, solidarity, disdain or admiration – can turn a high vowel into a low one, replace one consonant with another, and make would-be prime ministers sound like comedians.’ Accent and class are powerful, evocative and divisive themes. But in regards to the general reaction to Ed Miliband’s glottal stop there seems to be something at play. I suggest that the reaction stemmed from how this slight phonetic component of his speech seemed to be at odds with the symbolic object of deferred desire: the traditional, clipped queens English speaking, authority figure (as did his slip on the Question Time ElectionSpecial). I am not suggesting that a way of speaking can lose or win an election. I am suggesting that it is often in the ways in which we hear a voice and the types of role, background, history or politics we assign to it that reveal our desires to some degree. The accoutrements we add to voice, upon audition, are registers of our desire. Isn’t it a shame we cannot close our ears like we can our modern eyes, those eyes fixed at deathly cyan glares? Or wear shades and spectacles to allow a truer audition? But, I suppose, our ears are still stuck in a bygone era. The way we hear a voice is still stuck in a bygone era. The same bygone era as our submissive prole desires: a time when there were no off and on switches - just labouring bodies in the shadow of the castle.

Zombies believe in Ghosts but not Toasters

Ever since I attended Haunters and theHaunted I have been dwelling on the concept of ghost labor and ghost desires. This post will explore the concepts of ghost labor and ghost desires – or, to be more precise, according some thoughts I put HERE, phantom labor and phantom desires.

In this article The Guardian does what it does best. It criticises the ‘government’, an admirable endeavour, but forgets to make any substantial point in doing so. Indeed, The Guardian has perfected the fine art of hand wringing and brow furrowing – so much so one could be forgiven for thinking it is the end of its work and not the means to say or demonstrate anything else.

The article is concerned with zero hours contracts. It details the plight of people who wake up each morning not knowing if they are going to work or not. Such stuff is standard fare and nothing new. Of course, for the people trapped in such a predicament, it is awful – but this is where my agreement with the article end. It is largely where the articles opinion ends too. Nobody needs a smug Oxford grad’s gleefully tutting reportage to know that a father of young children would find life hard if he had to wake up each morning not knowing if he is going to get paid that day. It is a fretful piece of click-bait, but no doubt many will read it in their parlours and exclaim how frightful it all is.

Chakrabortty writes “that something in the jobs market is fundamentally broken”. What I want to argue here is that it is not the nature of jobs that are broken. It is the market itself. I do not want an end to zero hour contracts. I want an end to the necessities of work for humans. The toasters can deal with precarity. I want an end to the sellers of labor, the workers, who feel they have a right to sell, to exchange their time and efforts for money. Admittedly this is, at first glance, an offensive sentiment. Let me explain. Presently people have to work to live. So people have to work. It is perhaps because of this that the phantom right – the right to work rears its Thatcherite hood. No one should have a right to work. If you feel you have a right to provide some sort of service in exchange for money you are, like the many presuppositions in the media, missing the point entirely. One doesn’t and should never have a right to work. One should have a right to life – a life that includes a reasonable amount of means. Means to eat and live in some form of comfort. The right to work is a phantom belief. It is caused by a similar process of denial and deferral as I detailed in my blog on BMW cars. The right to work cloaks the fact that people need work in order to sustain a life. The belief in the right to work or the right to be able to find a job is the mask of the belief that humans have no right to continue living in any meaningful way. The right to work only gains political purchase at the moment that the right to lead a meaningful life in and of itself diminishes. If one takes the position that a person has no right to a meaningful life then you presuppose that that person should somehow earn it. This is the dominant belief today. If you are lucky enough to toil away for some vague but precarious remuneration then splendid – enjoy your hard won milky coffee.

However, as I said, I do not believe that people have any right to earn anything. Instead I believe people have a right to some sort of life with means to do various things. This belief is not at all radical. It is, and this may sound absurd at first, a belief that is more inline with the job market trajectory of late capitalism than the belief that people have a right to work. Here is why.

We all know most cognitive labour is pointless. Pointless in that the majority of cognitive labour is essentially quantification – aside from the fringes of innovation and creativity the contagion of counting and collating dominates. The trend in almost all work is quantification. “Lets get busy with our abaci and tot stuff up!” is the unspoken mantra of today. It extends to Doctors, who, fresh from taking the Hippocratic oath, are tasked with budgeting for the life and health of their patients. It extends to teachers who find themselves trapped in an administrative maze of confidence eroding self-evaluation and anxiety inducing peer review processes. School corridors are like private businesses operating ni a nature somewhere between Kafkian labyrinth and institutional Panopticon. Private businesses too are dogged by the frenzy of quantification. My first job was with a small company that visibly displayed this. The company employed more people to count the sales and profit margins of our product than people to sell and fit the product.

Of course, any form of quantification is essentially work that can be done by computers. Today some aspects of it still require fleshy little things in dull suits to help out but in the future I have no doubt that it will be possible for all aspects of any quantifiable work tobe fully automated. Of course, not all work is quantifiable work. But much work is. Postmen, factory workers, warehouse workers, taxi-drivers, payroll administrators, lifeguard etc are the types of jobs that are easy to imagine being farmed out to machines. After all, I would rather Sonny watched over me than an volatile, illogical and emotionally driven human like me. I expect that in my lifetime the manually operated car will die once insurance companies price up the less reliable driver and private companies insist on increasing amounts of out of office engagement. The jobs of today are tomorrow’s algorithms.

In William Gibson’s The Peripheral Flynne Fisher works online in a virtual London. She is employed to swat flying dragonfly-like paparazzi drones away from a location. “They were interested in the building. Like AI emulating bugs, but she knew how to do that herself.” This is what work is today. The circus of collation, quantification and evaluation is little more than bald mammals emulating the AI that will soon usurp them. This may seem hyperbolic but even the medium of work is now better tailored to machines than our rickety bi-pedal operating system. Modern work is conducted more often than not in digital worlds or via communication networks. We have automated our signatures, our authenticating mark of absent presence, on work communiqué. Isn’t the out of office signature a sign of things to come? The thin end of the wedge? So why not automated the rest of ourselves? Why should we toil away in zombied ruts of familiarity doing repetitive work that can be better done by a computer?

Automation of work will not cease and nor should it. I do not ever want a human doing work a machine could do. The combine harvester was a good thing. But this is where I come back to zero hour contracts. What is the ultimate appeal of such contracts to employers? Flexibility. As anyone can appreciate, an employer (especially a profit making business), would rather pay over the odds for short term workers than pay less for workers who will may require redundancy payouts, sick pay, maternity pay and various other entitlements of permanent workers. From a balancing the books perspective, from a dynamic-and-fast-paced (read precarious) business perspective it makes sense. It makes sense in a particularly economic way. Profit making companies need to constantly discover and introduce efficiencies so that they can survive. They may do so for a variety of reasons. I except that such a variety would include increased profits for shareholders or so they can undercut their competitors and grow. Nonetheless, if a company cannot continue to compete in its market it would not survive. Mechanise or die. The zero hour contract is the limit point of human work. It is the bleeding edge of mechanisation and human labour. It is a space where humans are still needed for things machines cannot quite do yet – but not needed quite so much a whole permanent workforce is needed. Zero hour contract workers are needed in the most disposable and myopic fashion. Modern companies commit more to property, equipment and infrastructure than they do to people.

But, unlike Chakrabortty, I do not think that the solution lies in discovering secure jobs for everyone. Rather, I think that it is time to face up to the fact that jobs for all (humans) is a fantasy. The cloaked denial of a decent life for everyone that masquerades as the right to work is what holds late Capitalism back from more automation and efficiencies. To believe in the giveness of the necessity of work and engage with zeal in tasks that could be done by a machine is to become zombie careerist. Today most people (especially in the private sector) will move through three consecutive careers. Self-employed consultation is at an all time high in the UK. How many more registers of the flat-lining ‘job for life’ does one need? More it seems. Because zombie workers engaged in phantom work seem not to accept this but push more and more in the face of eroded security, employment rights and conditions people keep at it. Presumably in the hope that if they can just give that extra pound of flesh then stability and wealth will follow. Sadly, for so many, I doubt this will happen.

So, the end question is what happens to the people who don’t work. Once the right to work is dismantled a right to live must be secured. The solution is surprisingly compatible with our Capitalist value system: universal basic income (UBI). Under UBI, the fallacy of the right to work would perish and the recurring benefits media headache would be appeased. In the UK an increasingly large chunk of benefits spending goes to people who are already working. Also, for the ‘government’, pension spending is over ten times that of jobseekers allowance. UBI could solve both of these. The first question put UBI is often: how will it be afforded? A corporate Robot tax that lands somewhere between human tax threshold and the current average human worker income, perhaps in the region of five or six thousand per annum is an obvious opportunity. There are more promising prospects for affording UBI if Capitalism is allowed to run its course. Capitalism needs punters. High-finance algorithms trading between ‘one another’ aside, machines alone don’t turn a profit. So for Capitalism to continue people need to continue to be engaged in various stratum of consumerism, be it necessity or frivolity. But more importantly the refinement of Capitalist business, the very competition driven practice of automation for efficiency, will allow for cheaper and cheaper products on condition of a free-market (so of course it wouldn’t work for things like trains). As businesses force one another into increasing states of efficiency, as people chose not to work because they simply do have to and make choices about their own buying the old utopian fantasy of better products and less work comes into possibility. It is a strange thought. It is strange to think that for Capitalism to continue it needs less human workers and a trajectory including universal basic income. UBI is often talked of under the shadow of Marx or Communism but I feel it may gain traction in my lifetime as a means to maintain Capitalism.

In Postcapitalist Desire Fisher bats Jamesons dialectic of Wal-Mart back at Louise Mensch’s comments about Occupy London Stock Exchange causing nothing more than Starbucks biggest ever queues. Mensch made the tired connection between anti-capitalist protestors and their use of capitalist products. In Utopia as Replication Jameson detailed how Wal-Mart is an oddly dialectical enterprise. It is utter capitalism thus it operates in the most uncapitalistic fashion. It is the beating heart of Capitalism, and thus, has killed capitalism – as one anonymous CEO once said: ‘Wal-Mart killed free-market capitalism.’ In Fisher’s Postcapitalist Desire this dialectic is extended to brands like Starbucks and Apple. Starbucks and Apple embody all the typical and worn criticisms of communism; they are generic, homogenous, crush individuality or enterprise. But they are also massively efficient and highly automated networks. Fisher cites Jameson’s sense of dialectic within capitalism and suggests that the ‘dialectical ambivalence’ of ‘admiration and positive judgment…accompanied by…absolute condemnation’ is found in all the loyally hateful patrons of so many ubiquitous and anonymous corporations. Corporations like Wal-Mart, Starbucks and Apple who are, in all their monopolistic blandness, simultaneously capitalist to the point of being communist.

Fisher, asks: ‘can’t we conceive of consumer capitalism’s culture of ready-meals, fast food outlets, anonymous hotels and disintegrating family life as a dim pre-echo of precisely the social field imagined by early soviet planners’. Absolutely. Our fetishization of the latest anonymous iPhone, or vaguely differentiated car, is little else than a collective enthusiasm of the homogeneity of state communism. Everything you think is Capitalist, the coffee, the laptops, the anonymous suburbs and panelled non-spaces of hotel foyers is strangely communist. But this is where I want to come back to UBI. Isn’t UBI the only conceivable way to maintain our current form of capitalism and the trajectories of automation? Is UBI the spectre of capitalism? Far from being a quite communist or socialist drive, UBI could be regarded as a drive to maintain the political structure of global laissez-faire capitalism? Is UBI the only possible solution to keeping the capitalism of market driven efficiencies? After returning from the job centre, now staffed entirely with robots, UBI would be our last resort. The phantom of the right to work must give way to the spectre of how to maintain capitalism. UBI would also be the only way for companies to survive, to maintain their consumer markets. Our only way to keep Kraft, P&G, Nestle et al in business and afford a little life for ourselves as well is UBI. UBI could save us from having to work to live, but only by maintaining the current trajectory of capitalism.  

Terminator vs. Ghostbusters

On Wednesday I went to Tate Britain to hear Amy Ireland, Mark Fisher and Luke Pendrell speak at Haunters and the Haunted, the last in the Speculative Tate series. I hadn’t been to any of the other talks but I must say this part did what panel talks should do: stimulate thought. It is this thought I would like to explore here. My thoughts are not fully formed yet, they are more questioning and exploratory. Hence, they are here on my blog!

Ireland’s talk concerned itself at times with Land’s concept of Teleoplexy and its end point for us. The Landian accelerationist moment of transformation, for us, as we understand ourselves today, is an end point. The faceless machines coming to Bethlehem was one of the themes put forward. In a way Land’s project was contextualized within a continuum of particular formulations of a modernist aesthetic. It is a continuum that does not look for our own new solution, but imagines a change brought about by an AI driven dawn of non-knowledge. I won’t try to outline Ireland’s particular narrative content in any critical detail; instead I wish to focus on Teleoplexy in isolation. The following is my take on the of Teleoplexic end-point of Landian Accelerationism.

Teleoplexy is the trajectory of machines, faceless machines that seek efficiency. It is a seeking indifferent to the human. It correlates with many things (Land, 2014, p.514) but the crucial aspect for me here is twofold. Firstly that it organizes the fleshy things around it, the humans. It also organizes our little coins and creaking communication networks. Secondly that the concept of Teleoplexy, its mode or operation if you will, is based on the most fundamental of circuitry theories – cybernetic intensification. Thus, although Teleoplexy is a vast prospect, its basis has unnervingly simple groundings: technological modulation of humans and cybernetic intensification. But this is not the end of the story, because supposedly as Teleoplexy blossoms many things occur. The most important facts of its blossoming for me are that the machines gain consciousness and are able to quantify the world – a vaguely techo-gaia or cybernetic singularity type prospect that Land (along with Sadie Plant and Iain Hamilton Grant) would term ‘anorganic convergence’. This is Skynet as fate: ‘technics is increasingly thinking about itself. It might still be a few decades before artificial intelligences surpass the horizon of biological ones, but it is utterly superstitious to imagine that the human dominion of terrestrial culture is still marked out in centuries, let alone some metaphysical perpetuity.’ (Land, 2011, p.293)

If you consider Teleoplexy as a massive sprawling intensifying machine, a machine that inhabits any non-human object in the world, then that circuit’s consciousness is an unthinkable and horrific prospect (unthinkable in the proper Thackerian horror sense – see Thacker, Clouds of Unknowing, 2011, pp.1-9). Teleoplexy also ‘names historical process in time’ (Ireland) It collapses the past and future, or time running forwards or backwards. Because such folksy linearity, the spasm of humanoid time must cease – or rather, already has! Teleo-plexy is the end to the seizure of history as linear time.

But further to this horrific prospect there is another. It is that such an immense and world sprawling network may come to ask itself: ‘what is the value of this earth?’ It is at this point that catastrophe (as indistinguishable from confluence) comes. Of course, it may well be a catastrophe of the human as we know it, but crucially, and most importantly it is an end to the technonomic currency. Capitalism or any value system that is hierarchical, inefficient and unequal is able to be, for the first time stripped of its values and potencies: denominated. (Land, 2014, p.520) For Land this is not a case of if but of when we will experience what has already happened in the future.

This is a powerful and bombastic notion with a streak of shiny booted indifference threaded through it. But do not get it wrong, Land is not arguing for more machines and more Capitalism as we know it today. As Ireland was sure to point out, Land is not wishing to accelerate the domestic trappings of the bourgeoisie and their political accessories. Quite the contrary: “The deep secret of capital-as-process is its incommensurability with the preservation of bourgeois civilization, which clings to it like a dwarf riding a dragon.” (Land, 2011, p.265) More shops are not the answer. An intensifying economy isn’t the answer. Rather, an AI afforded catastrophy that renders all economies (libidinal, nominal, oedipal, temporal) dethroned is. Such a notion is, at best, indifferent to our current humanism but it does have, at its core, a sort of strange inhuman positivity. It is of course, so inhuman in its nature that to call it positive chimes oddly. To call it nihilistic would be more correct under local frameworks. But for me it is positive in a nihilistic way because it outlines how a massive change will happen – not could happen. For me this is what is significant. It seems that in the paralyzing impasse of today, a world that is easier to imagine ending in fire and brimstone than emancipated from Capitalism, Lands texts are still conspicuous by virtue of their ambition to set out a trajectory of future change (albeit relinquished to autonomous technics and machines). Maybe not any time soon, and maybe not without some form of planetary cataclysm – but it will one day. It is a Teleoplexic Spectre – a fate haunting the present.

The obvious criticism here is the difficult question. Is the end of Capitalism worth the destruction of our familiar libidinal, technonomic, oedipal and temporal castles? However, and this elucidates how easy it can be to criticism Land too quickly, such a question is flawed. It is a doomed question because it accepts one part of Teleoplexy, the end of Capitalism, but forgets the other: the fact that it has already happened – we just haven’t tottered to it yet in our quaint linear time. Such a question is a false luxury, a mirage, a phantom that haunts us because we are dumb and weak – so dumb and weak we can only navigate space and not time. In Land’s project the luxury of such a question is impossible, it has never existed. Our faceless fate is sealed.

Fisher’s and Pendrell’s talks were quite different from Ireland’s. Like Ireland’s I cannot recall in fine detail the narratives of each but there was a dominant theme of hauntings, ghosts and spectres. It is this that I will focus on here. In the discussion afterwards a few dominant themes emerged. One was a lack of creativity (or as Fisher would suggest a marked absence of future-shock in the last twenty years). Another was the Sisyphean absurdity of being forced to continue in pointless, endless work. It is on these points that I want to raise a definition that I tried to highlight then. It is lifted directly from Davis’ essay ‘Hauntology, Spectres and Phantoms’. Davis’ essay explores how Derrida, in Spectres of Marx, took his very particular notion of the ghost or spectre. The ghost that informed hauntology was a very specific type of ghost – a ghost that is distinctly different from a phantom. Davis’ circles the different geneses of hauntologies in more detail than I can do justice to here but I feel that the crux of the argument is the definition between a spectre and a phantom. We can say that the phantom lies with Abraham and Torok whereas the spectre remains Derrida's secret.

Lets look at the differences between the phantom and the spectre. On an epistemological level one can take the spectre to be something unknowable, a liminal thing, a limit, a lacunae whereas a phantom is knowable by its falsity. The phantom is in our narrative, it is known whereas the spectre always remains to a large degree outside our knowledge and narrative. Keeping this in mind we must see each as a form or type of secret. Phantoms lie to us, they do not tell the truth, but such a deceit is within our world. Spectres are secrets because they themselves are never fully known. Phantoms are liars that we must uncover to be so in order to banish them. Spectres on the other hand cannot really be banished in the same operation as the phantom because they were never in our world or our narrative framework to begin with. The phantom is a domesticated ghost secret we can solve (often returning from the past) whereas a spectre is a secret to our knowledge – something we may be able to know in the future. As Davis states:

“The crucial difference between the two strands of hauntology, deriving from Abraham and Torok and from Derrida respectively, is to be found in the status of the secret. The secrets of Abraham’s and Torok’s lying phantoms are unspeakable in the restricted sense of being a subject of shame and prohibition. It is not at all that they cannot be spoken; on the contrary, they can and should be put into words so that the phantom and its noxious effects on the living can be exorcized. For Derrida, the ghost and its secrets are unspeakable in a quite different sense. Abraham and Torok seek to return the ghost to the order of knowledge; Derrida wants to avoid any such restoration and to encounter what is strange, unheard, otherly, about the ghost. For Derrida, the ghost’s secret is not a puzzle to be solved; it is the structural openness or address directed towards the living by the voices of the past or the not yet formulated possibilities of the future. The secret is not unspeakable because it is taboo, but because it cannot not (yet) be articulated in the languages available to us. The ghost pushes at the boundaries of language and thought.” (Davis, 2005, pp.378-379)

Phatomic lies from past or spectral future possibilities of a future. This is a key question that I want to turn towards. For example, I feel it is safe to say that the cultural stasis, the marked lack of future shock in pop music or fashion, is a phantom. We have phantom bands and phantom brands selling us nostalgic lies from yesteryear (this is a also a growing domestic political trend, registering as conservatism and retro-fetishistic fervor). We also do phantom work. Most of the work we are engaged in is utterly pointless. For example, we have more powerful machines than every before for quantifying and calculating our work but human workers now spend more time than ever doing the same. Even our reasons and justification for working appear phantomic. Cars, for example. I suggest cars for three reasons. Firstly because they are often luxuries (unlike property) that people buy on credit or payment plans. Secondly, because of the odd premium attached to particular types of cars that are no superior to what are seen as lesser machines. And Thirdly because, like our iPhones, cars are always undergoing phantom upgrades. But, unlike an OS update, a personal vehicular upgrade has massive financial implications. But the comparison here is precisely that both Cars and Smart Phones promise to get better and better but in functional terms remain the same. (For a good examination of BMWs progress see Robert Kelly and Robert McNamara: Extended Narrative versus Data Mining by Liam Gillick).

Apart from impractical supercars that only the super-rich non workers can afford the middle range luxury cars seem to be a register of how people, at some level, conjure up meaning for from work rather seek the ends of work. People want phantomic reasons to work more than they want things from work. I say this because things like BMW's or Mercedes are really no different to other cars (in essence) they are not massively quicker, or quieter or safer. Yet many people still buy them, why? The answer lies in the way in which such cars are bought. For example, most BMW's are bought by working people on credit or payment plans. Middle-class, wealthier than average, workers - sure - but worker's nonetheless. To make a generalisation, I think it is safe to say that the target German car demographic is not the private island owning jet set billionaire but the 40k suburban toiler. Unlike Ferraris the BMW's or Audi's are likely to be bought on credit. Here I see the creation of works meaning. It is a way to solve the running out of ends, if you have a certain amount of things you need (roof, food, heat) then very soon you need to find other ends to maintain your work as a means to. You have to find reasons to work – albeit phantom reasons. The rise of luxury cars on credit is a register of people's yearning to maintain their focus on the means and not the ends and conjuring phantoms in the process. The rise of luxury phantom goods is a register of peoples unimaginative clinging to work as the prospects of their ends run dry. My luxury car suspicion is not negative, it's not to say that people are dumb and will buy anything and wind up trapped in a job. It's actually the opposite. People, at some level, know full well that things are pointless luxuries but want them anyway for obscure, counterintuitive and phantomic reasons. The car defers the expose of phantom work, or meaningless work, by providing a material justification for such Sisyphean drudgery. An anxiety, a denial of meaninglessness, is deferred from the phantom job into a justificatory object of desire.

The immediate criticism to my flash-cars-as-deferred-phantoms-de-phantomising-meaningless-work would be that it is just a register of consumerism. This is true. It is a register of consumerism, but it’s important to parse out how consumerism works. Because, I have attempted to demonstrate, by doing so with a good tinge of Lacanian structure one can begin locating the passages of phantoms in contemporary life. Phantoms of the past, or denial fuelled lying phantoms must be located if only so that the Spectre can be sensed, felt or suspected. Rather than being chased around the non-space maze of late Capitalism by lying phantoms of the past we should seek the Spectre even though we may never fully know it.

I would like to return to Teleoplexy for a moment. Teleoplexy, and Land’s project generally, is desirable in that it maps out, with striking authority, a path to change. For all its inhuman predictions it is heart-warming in its sheer clarity of prescription, even if such a prescription is the fateful end for us! The collapse of human time is another obstacle. To relinquish history is, as I see it, a strategy to usurp any platform for engagement or discussion. It is a pawn in the dethroning of human agency. But who just wants to be around for the ride? The attraction of Land’s texts lies in the drive for change, seeking change or asking for change – not in the reservation that our fate has already been sealed. I am sure I am not alone in coming to Land’s texts at a point of hopeless political exasperation yet I feel now that my approach was futile. I, like many others I expect, wanted a manual for today not a verdict on the fate of tomorrow.

Of course, Land’s text doesn’t totally avoid human time. Quite the opposite, it insists on placing our inevitable trajectory within a sci-fi narrative framework (this is one aesthetic aspect of his text I adore). Things of the future visit the present and things of the past are addressed. It would be impossible for Land to communicate Teleoplexy in any other way in textual language. A good example of this, pandering to our historical temporal linearity bent, is found in his concept of the schizophrenic and its relation to our oedipal castles of social control:

“With those who bow down to Oedipus we can do business, even make a little money, but schizophrenics refuse transference, won't play daddy and mummy, operate on a cosmic-religious plane, the only thing we can do is lock them up (cut up their brains, fry them with ect, straightjacket them in Thorazine ... ). Behind the social workers are the police, and behind the psychoanalysts are the psychopolice. Deleuze-Guattari remark that 'madness is called madness and appears as such only because it finds itself reduced to testifying all alone for de territorialization as a universalprocess'.23 The vanishing sandbank of Oedipus wages its futile war against the tide. 'There are still not enoughpsychotics'24 writes Artaud the insurrectionist. Clinical schizophrenics are pows from the future.” (Land, 2011, pp.306-307)

We could suggest that the schizophrenic P.o.W. from the future is a type of spectre in temporeal terms – it comes from the future. But, such a reading is false. It is false because despite arriving from the future, the schizophrenic as spectre is not a potential horizon of knowledge and change (as the Derridean spectre is). The schizophrenic P.o.W. from the future is a spectre of inevitability, not opportunity. Let’s imagine the clichéd scenario of a visitor from the future. In many instances of this in fiction there comes a moment when the visitor fades from the screen as a result actions taken in the present. More often than not the visitor only travels back in time to urge the characters of the present to take action so that an undesirable future may be averted. If the schizophrenic P.o.W. was to visit us, Terminator style, then there would be nothing we could do to change the future they arrive from. Even the spectres that Land employs to elucidate his project are autonomous from human agency and hold no potential for us.

After such a prospect I still want to ask what can be done. I don’t buy Land’s project of the inevitable just yet. It is because of this that I feel the phantoms of today are what need to be addressed. Like I have sought to do with cars and labour, exocising contemporary phantoms is something that can be done. It needs a close examination of subjectivities and the libidinal machinations of Capitalism - but it is a productive task. It is productive because, following Davis’ distinction, the Derridean version of the spectre offers potential. We won’t have a chance to glimpse such a spectre (whatever it is, be it metallic gnashing ‘anorganic convergence’ or utopic humanism) if we remain mired amidst lying phantoms of the past framed within the domestic narratives of late Capitalism. Thus, in order to reveal clues for our future, we must start by ghostbusting the phantom pasts that haunt today.

Land, N. 2011. Fanged Noumena: Collected Writings 1987-2007. Urbanomic / Sequence Press.

Thacker, E. 2011. In The Dust Of This Planet: Horror of Philosophy Vol. 1. Winchester UK: Zero Books.

Land, N. 2014. Teleoplexy; in #Accelerate, eds. Robin Mackay and Armen Avanessian, (Falmouth: Urbanomic, 2014)

Davis, C. 2005. États présents: Colin Davis. Hauntology, Spectres and Phantoms in French Studies (July 2005) 59 (3): 373-379

Gillick, L. 2012. Robert Kelly and Robert McNamara: Extended Narrative versus Data Mining in Afterall Journal. Spring 2012.