Neil Postman on Huxley and Orwell: the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy

In Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman discusses the consequences of a culture transitioning from orality to literacy to visual media.

The number of hours the average American watches TV has remained steady, at about four and a half hours a day, every day (by age sixty-five, a person will have spent twelve uninterrupted years in front of the TV).

The Internet and smart phones have shifted the focus from TV to the Internet, but not the total amount of time spent on these media.

Postman looks at the great literary dystopians Orwell and Huxley, who must have foreseen such developments and the dangers they bring along.

Orwell warns that we will be overcome by an externally imposed oppression. But in Huxley’s vision, no Big Brother is required to deprive people of their autonomy, maturity and history. As he saw it, people will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.
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What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one.
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Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny “failed to take into account man’s almost infinite appetite for distractions.”

The Blob: No-Face as a Mirror to Billionaire’s Greed

A blob has no sense of self. All it knows is that it must become bigger. Our world is full of self-centered blobs.

The blob is in pain. The movie Spirited Away features a character similar to a blob: No-Face. No-Face wants attention, so he swallows the bathhouse employees. In the process, he adopts all the negative traits of those he consumes. No-Face becomes an arrogant, disgruntled, and selfish monster.

The amorphous blobs of this world — large organizations and individuals — want our attention. And there is never enough of it. Driven by attention mania and the temporary satisfaction that these blob gets from power and prestige, the blob keeps eating. It clings to everything around it in a meaningless and frenetic way.

The blob doesn’t like being told not to eat just anything. This gets the blob angry and mean because the blob needs to grow. Then, the blob deploys his soldiers. An army of dependents, frightened to the bone followers, is deployed to ensure that the blob can continue to grow. All work for the benefit of the blob.

In Spirited Away, No-Face offers gold to make the creatures around him like him. The creatures accept the gold and obey the blob. But when Chihiro refuses the gold yet is kind to him anyway, No-Face becomes so upset and confused, and sick of himself, that he vomits up everything he has swallowed. Only then does he find a balance in his existence—an existence in which he does not always want to devour others. No-Face turns into a humble being.

Let’s feel sorry for the No-Faces of this world. The pitiable CEOs are morbidly seeking attention. These No-Faces use their money, business, wives, and children—everything to get attention.

But no one likes them. No-Face is a nasty, selfish creature that lives a terrible life of eternal dissatisfaction. They can’t be helped. They can only help themselves and puke out everything they have swallowed.

On Luscinia svecica and two Homo copiarius subspecies

This week, we walked across the Engbertsdijkvenen. We spotted an uncommon bird, the Bluethroat (Luscinia svecica). Helped by the app Merlin Bird ID, an app that lets you listen to birds like you’ve never heard them.

We also spotted Homo copiarius avium, a species of Homo sapiens equipped with a still camera with an 800mm lens. I can estimate this species quite well since I am of the affiliated subspecies Homo copiarius platea, also outfitted with a camera, but with a 28 or 35mm lens. Whereas the Homo copiarius platea like me is more often found in inhabited areas, where it generally operates in isolation, the Homo copiarius avium is found in nature reserves, where they operate in groups of 3 to 7 of their conspecifics, and often congregate in observation huts to share their collections of copied birds.

Ben van den Broek made this picture of the Bluethroat.

A view of a hike

A short video of yesterday’s hike across the fenns near Vriezenveen.

Beyond Time Management: Oliver Burkeman’s ‘Four Thousand Weeks’

Four Thousand Week – Time Management for Mortals, by Oliver Burkeman, is a book about what Burkeman calls “the paradox of limitation.”

All of this illustrates what might be termed the paradox of limitation, which runs through everything that follows: the more you try to manage your time with the goal of achieving a feeling of total control, and freedom from the inevitable constraints of being human, the more stressful, empty, and frustrating life gets. But the more you confront the facts of finitude instead—and work with them, rather than against them—the more productive, meaningful, and joyful life becomes.

Burkeman shares a wealth of wisdom on how we can achieve more focus in our lives without getting overwhelmed by our social media addiction and how the media manipulates us for the sake of gaining more eyeballs on the media itself (the media is the message, as Marshall McLuhan concluded years ago).

The unsettling possibility is that if you’re convinced that none of this is a problem for you—that social media hasn’t turned you into an angrier, less empathetic, more anxious, or more numbed-out version of yourself—that might be because it has. Your finite time has been appropriated, without your realizing anything’s amiss.
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It’s been obvious for some time now, of course, that all this constitutes a political emergency. By portraying our opponents as beyond persuasion, social media sorts us into ever more hostile tribes, then rewards us, with likes and shares, for the most hyperbolic denunciations of the other side, fueling a vicious cycle that makes sane debate impossible.

The book is a gem. I conclude with his advice for a more creative life.

In practical terms, three rules of thumb are especially useful for harnessing the power of patience as a creative force in daily life. The first is to develop a taste for having problems.
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Once you give up on the unattainable goal of eradicating all your problems, it becomes possible to develop an appreciation for the fact that life just is a process of engaging with problem after problem…
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The second principle is to embrace radical incrementalism.

When you accept that you probably won’t produce very much on any individual day, you will find that you produce much more over the long term.

One critical aspect of the radical incrementalist approach, which runs counter to much mainstream advice on productivity, is thus to be willing to stop when your daily time is up, even when you’re bursting with energy and feel as though you could get much more done.
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Stopping helps strengthen the muscle of patience that will permit you to return to the project again and again…

The final principle is that, more often than not, originality lies on the far side of unoriginality.

This is the principle known as “Stay On The Bus”. You don’t find originality around the corner. It is in the depth of the work.

… it begins at all only for those who who can muster the patience to immerse themselves in the earlier stage – the trial-and-error phase of copying others, learning new skills, and accumulating experience.

Burkeman uses the metaphor of the long-married couple.

To experience the profound mutual understanding of the long-married couple, you have to stay married to one person; to know what it’s like to be deeply rooted in a particular community and place, you have to stop moving around. Those are the kinds of meaningful and singular accomplishments that just take the time they take.

Printing photos and photographing prints

I am in the process of printing this series of black-and-white photos, and it is coming along quite well now. The prints on Canson Infinity Baryta Photographique II (try to think up a name like that for a paper type) look very nice.

Now, I want to share the results of this work, so I need to make a good picture of the print. That is not as easy as it seems. Despite the luster of the paper, the print reflects light, creating bleak spots on the photo. Not so nice.

Or I am too finicky.

Oostknollendam

Looking for Alaska – not that Alaska – by John Green

I somehow thought Looking for Alaska was set somewhere in the state of Alaska. So it isn’t.

Miles is a shy, slouchy boy who seems to know what he can and what he wants. Of his own accord, he goes to a boarding school. He befriends Chip, Takumi, and the peculiar girl Alaska, who are other cost-schoolers from the poorer strata of society. They form a club to take on the arrogant kids from more affluent families.

Miles and his friends are somewhat outcasts at the school. They smoke and drink and share a love of literature. Miles falls in love with Alaska. She had a rather complicated childhood after her mother died at a young age.
At the end of school, Alaska crashes in the middle of the night in her car on her way to her mother’s grave. The question that occupies the teenagers left behind is whether she committed suicide and, more importantly, why she would have done so. The second half of the book finds Miles and his friends searching for the answers to these questions, in addition to bullying the Eagle, the dean of the school. In the second part, I miss the quirks of the Alaska character. But she is dead.

John Green says in the book’s epilogue that this story did not succeed as well as his other books have succeeded, mainly because his regular editor could not help him with this one. I think Green lacks a little self-confidence because Looking for Alaska is just a very good book. In Anthropocene Reviewed style, I give Looking for Alaska … 5 stars.

Rondom Aartswoud, en een kroeg met een coca cola hoek

Het wordt niet licht vandaag. De Mienakker is een dijkje dat maar één auto breed is. Er zijn passeerplaatsen met asfaltvleugels die inscheuren.

De parkeerplaats van V.V. AGSV herinnert me aan bijna vijftig jaar geleden. Een modderige grasveld waarop we de auto moesten parkeren kondigde een keiharde wedstrijd in de natte prut aan. Nu heeft AGSV een nette parkeerplaats met parkeervakken.

Ik loop langs Café de Stompe Toren. Tegenover de kerk zonder toren. Later, op Google Reviews, lees ik over dit cafe:

“Een dorpskroeg die de laatste 50 jaar niet is veranderd. Gemoedelijk, vriendelijk en een sfeer en huiselijkheid uitstralen wat je alleen in kleine dorpjes tegen kom. “

“Super! 2 biljarts en een coca cola hoek. “

Driehoeken van hout, geabstraheerde kerstbomen langs de kant van de weg en kerststerren van hout.
Via de Zwarteweg loop ik de Weelkade op. Langs de Weelpolder, een natuurgebiedje. In de sloten staan de ranke witte reigers. Geirriteerd gakkend vliegen ze op als ik langsloop. Eenden scheren langs en landen verderop. Ik kan een slobeend en een casarca herkennen, maar deze niet.

Een natte, koude wind van 3 graden maakt het best onaangenaam. Ik heb geen handschoenen meegenomen. De camera om mijn nek, handen in mijn jaszakken.

Meerkoeten duiken onder water als ratten. In het veld knallen jagers op wild. Kieviten vliegen op. Maken die zich klaar voor hun vertrek? Of gokken ze op een winter in Nederland?

Later, weer op de weg, komen de jagers me tegemoet in hun pick-up. De laadbak hangt open. Een man zit op de rand, met een geweer dwars over zijn knieën. Hij kijkt schuldig. Terecht.
Een gemetseld bouwwerk aan twee zijden van het kanaal. Kunnen de resten van een brug zijn, maar ook van een sluis. Tegen de dijk aan de andere kant een rommelig erf. Een bedrijfje dat theaterkleding verhuurt, zie ik later.

“hallo, ik wil 2 pietenpakken reserveren voor 26 november. kan dat? is het 1 maat?”, heeft iemand aan Google gevraagd.

Verderop, vlakbij een kruispunt van wegen is een boerderij verbouwd tot een bed and breakfast met een vervoersthema. In de tuin zie ik een tram, vliegtuig, een trein, een bus. Nieuwsgierig bekijk ik de uitstalling.

Weer op de Mienakker zie ik in de verte de jagers in het veld lopen het veld. Een enkele knal.

13/12/2024

Douglas Coupland on Novelty and Craft; the analog world gets new attention

Schagen

I am reading Shopping in Jail by Douglas Coupland. In the essay, I find two interesting quotes:

…novelty that reflects the powerful but less prominent forces of any culture is interesting and worthy of exploration.

I recognize this in photography. Pictures of the parade are never as interesting as pictures of what is happening on the edges of the parade. The people watching the events are more interesting than the event itself.

In an ever-flattening world of downloaded non-physical experiences, the crafted object is in the ascendant and ultimately might prove to be the trunk of the tree that gives rise to the next dominant wave of modern art.

The essays are from some time ago, and we have since seen the rise and death of the NFT as an ultimate non-physical experience in art. Yet, the analog world gets new attention when digital artifacts emerge.

The experience in concerts and festivals emerged when music went digital and streamed. At the same time, streaming channels have the distribution of music accessible to anyone. They are no longer limited to large record companies. This allows more novelty and experiments on the edge. Now, analog music media such as vinyl and cassettes reappear, and “merch”—another name for analog artifacts sold directly by the musicians—has become the standard and is more profitable for many bands than their music.

In the literary world, a similar flattening change has taken place. The internet has reduced the volume of the book-reading audience. Still, at the same time, it has opened up a channel for sharing writing and ideas. While the mainstream ebook business seems dominated by Amazon, there is enough opportunity to access readers with some additional marketing efforts, and these efforts can make a significant difference.

Social media have turned into sales channels for photography and other arts—and we should treat them as such—but analog experiences such as books, zines, prints, and expositions are where art is enjoyed.

Recent photo prints

Life Ceremony, today’s absurdity and staying sane

I am reading Sayaka Murata‘s collection of stories, Life Ceremony. The stories describe futuristic societies you can’t imagine could ever become reality. Furniture and clothing are made from the remains of deceased people. Artificial insemination is the norm. Raising children is paid out to specialized organizations. A girl keeps a man as a pet. After a death, the deceased is ceremoniously prepared and served to the bereaved, who proceed to insemination after the meal to fulfill life’s circle.

All this seems ridiculous. Like a democratic society as seemingly impossible as one in which a president has the power to acquit convicted criminals. In which billionaires conspire to ensure they get richer and can draw even more power to themselves. In which a self-proclaimed genius running a car company has no qualms about making a Hitler salute. A Brett Easton Ellis novel turned into reality.

Staying informed is important, but the constant barrage of horrific news from a government populated by narcissists can be overwhelming. Sometimes, it’s necessary to take a step back for the sake of our mental well-being.

Let’s instead focus on the beautiful things people make. Like books by Sayaka Murata’s.