Maxine Udall: POWER

Here is one of my favorite all-time quotes from Maxine Udall (aka Alison Snow Jones):

"Regular readers know that one recurring theme in this blog is that concentrated economic and political power in the private sector is as much a "problem" as an ineffective, inefficient guvment especially one that has been deprived of the funds needed to regulate a complex capitalist society based on commercial exchange and characterized in some sectors (like health and finance) by several types of market failure."

Masters of Subjection

The following is a reaction to reading Judith Butler's Psychic Life of Power:

Power exists prior to the subject, and power is also the “willed effect of the subject” (Butler, 14). We all enter a world that is completely symbolized, structured, ordered, and arranged before us. We step onto a cultural, political, and social stage as somewhat unwitting participants who have to adapt, to figure out the rules of the game in order to figure out what it means to be a part of that stage. We have to learn the rules of the game in order to exist as parts of the social body, and in order to be individuals within this pre-given system. This is the process of subjection. As Butler writes, “the subject emerges both as the effect of a prior power and as the condition of possibility for a radically conditioned form or agency” (14-15). We become individuals after being subjected to a powerful system in which we learn what it is to be named—resistance becomes possible only when one is named, ordered, and shaped by the social system that they are born into.

This process seems to be viciously circular—but Butler argues that power is never complete, never absolute (17). For me, this is where Butler provides a useful blend of Foucault and Lacan that moves beyond the arguments that Copjec provided a few weeks back. For Butler this incompleteness is the Lacanian real—that which the social order can never fully envelope. Identity is flexible, instable, and in flux because social identities can never fully account for the full being that any single person is. Agency, it seems, stems from the gaps, from the incompleteness of power. Agency, Butler writes, “is the assumption of a purpose unintended by power, one that could not have been derived logically or historically, that operates in a relation of contingency and reversal to the power that makes it possible, to which it nevertheless belongs” (15). Agency—or resistance—is an unexpected deviance or anomaly that takes place within a bounded system, but which stems from that very system. Humans resist violence and oppression with new forms of social organization, with weapons, and with the very language and sets of social symbols that were used to create oppression and violence in the first place. We write protest signs in the very language that represses; we march in places that are designated for free speech.

Moving beyond Foucault (or maybe taking him along for the ride), Butler argues that power not only subjects social bodies—it also shapes the formation of the psyche. If norms are internalized, she argues, then power is what creates the distinction between “interior and exterior life” (19). She writes, “Just as the subject is derived from conditions of power that precede it, so the psychic operation of the norm is derived, though not mechanically or predictably, from prior social operations” (21). Reflexivity is when the subject turns itself into an object of reflection (22), in which the Freudian drive and the Lacanian desire are in a constant tension with the desire for subjection itself (22). In order to become a working part of the social order everyone loses their unique inner drives or desires—or when they submit to dominant social and psychic order they suppress those original desires. In order to achieve the categorical status of a social individual every subject undergoes a dramatic loss.

The idea that complete subjection requires “mastery” is fascinating. Butler writes, “The more a practice is mastered, the more fully subjection is achieved…Though one might expect submission to consists in yielding to an externally imposed dominant order and to be marked by a loss of control and mastery, paradoxically, it is itself marked by mastery” (116). Here I think Butler pushes the argument beyond one of pure oppression to something that is even more ironic and insidious at the same time. By learning social codes, by learning from a young age who it is that holds power, when to cross the street, how to talk to authority, and the “proper” modes of interaction, every subject slowly masters his/her own subordination. A piano player can be seen as either a genius or a rigid slave to a particular set of routines. The same goes for a graduate student who, after years of reading the right books, parroting the right phrases and discourses, and turning in the proper papers at the proper time, finally masters the system and obtains a PhD. However, what have they become at that point? What is lost?

Final point. Butler writes, “Psychoanalysis insists that the opacity of the unconscious sets limits to the exteriorization of the psyche. It also argues—rightly, I think—that what is exteriorized or performed can only be understood by reference to what is barred from performance, what cannot or will not be performed” (144-45). When it comes to subjection, socialization, and power, what is it that cannot be performed? How is power something that sets the stage—even for resistance—and bans certain ways of acting and thinking from the “acceptable” social order? To continue using graduate school as an example, what forms of behavior are restricted in this particular setting? Are students expressing resistance when they form on-campus clubs to discuss political action, or are they confined to a relatively safe place that cannot effectively infect the rest of the social order?* What forms of thought, which ways of thinking, are mastered in higher education? Are we all learning how to think differently, or are we all learning how to think and act within a certain prescribed social system that allows for long-winded discussions of agency and resistance within convenient time slots? Deep exploration and discussion about “what cannot or will not be performed” is encouraged, as long as, in the end, we all think within certain boundaries and turn in the right papers at the right time.

Governmentality: power in parts per million

NOTE: The following is a short reaction to reading Michel Foucault's series of lectures "Security, Territory, Population." And yes, you will see a reference to a spicy chicken sandwich.

What interests me most about this set of lectures by Foucault is the shift in thinking and organization that took place with the transition from sovereign authority to governmentality. The difference between the two, in short, is all about statistical reasoning. Rule shifts from specific rights to a numbers game in which governments learn to deal with expected deviations, digressions, and setbacks as a matter of course. For the sovereign monarch, power and rule was directed toward the control of specific territories, law, justice, and wealth. Govermentality, which is focused on the management of a population in aggregate, is all about “letting things take their course” (45).

Many trends in the 17th and 18th centuries reflect this shift in thinking, from the development of the discipline of economics, to epidemiology, criminology, and even evolutionary theory. This shift in thought moves away from the restrictive control of discipline and toward a laisser-faire understanding of larger social and political processes that essentially solve problems themselves by simply being allowed to run amok. While sovereign forms of power relied on strict discipline, which isolates and controls, governmentality relies on “security”, which is expansive or centrifugal (45). Security radiates, expands, and extends itself into various social and political spheres. While discipline is about regulation, “security” is directed toward opening the numerical floodgates of probability and allowing “inevitable processes” to take their course.

Law is a forbidding force, while discipline is a punishing force. Security, on the other hand, responds to reality “in such a way that this response cancels out the reality to which it responds—nullifies it, or limits, checks, or regulates it” (47). According to Foucault, apparatuses of security do not function according to a restrictive, or negative formulation of power. These apparatuses work through what he calls a “freedom of circulation” (49). Diseases cancel themselves out when they run their course (and when they eliminate certain pieces of the social body); the purposive allowance of starvation staves off problems of economic scarcity. This is governmentality. Decisions are made based upon an aggregate understanding of the health, wealth, or productive power of populations as a whole. Starvation of one segment of the social body allows for the cleansing forces of the free market to strengthen the population as a whole. Or so the thinking goes. Laisser-faire economic theory may be seen as vaccination writ large, side effects and all. The risks of these apparatuses of security, Foucault argues, are not spread evenly throughout the population (61).

The natural desires of the population, also known as the pursuit of self-interest, are unleashed (73). These “desires” reflect a very different understanding of governance; gone is the focus on individual right, status, or responsibility (75). The population exhibits tendencies, convictions, behaviors, and fears that cannot simply be reduced to individuals (ibid). Governmentality is about assessing, predicting, and managing these collective desires, effects, and trends with particular ends in mind (power, health, profit, etc).

I’m going to end with a particular example of governmentality that all of us deal with on a day-to-day basis. We all eat every day, right? Each year, a number of people die from the food they eat, often from contaminants or other “deviations”. This fact come as no surprise to the US government, let alone the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Statistically speaking, a certain number of people are expected to die, and the basic job of the FDA is to do what it can to manage those numbers while allowing food producing industries and the “market” to do what they do best. This means that limits are set, for example, on the accepted parts per million of “contaminants” that are allowed in our food. A whole range of studies, tests, reports, and statistics are used to police food producing industries.

Statistics and reports are the tools of governmentality, all designed to keep the numbers in the right place. While some individuals will have to deal with the adverse effects of a particularly deadly microbe in their spicy chicken sandwich, “natural” forces are allowed to circulate and “cancel out” such minor inconveniences, thereby assuring the supposed health/vigor of the social (and economic) body as a whole. This is governmentality at its finest: a shift away from focusing on individual rights and sovereign rule, toward a greater concern with aggregate costs, benefits, and desires. So, either you die by beheading in the 1300s in the name of SOVEREIGN LAW, or you lose your life to a chicken sandwich in 2010 in the name of statistics and free market economics. Clearly, the violence of power can be delivered in very different ways.

Water & Rights

Water is bottled and sold. Think about that. Should water--something that everyone's life depends on--be just another market commodity? Should we trust the supposed efficiency of the "invisible hand" to provide everyone around the world with clean water?

I never really had to think much about water when I was a kid. It was always there. I walked into the kitchen, turned a little handle, and there it was. I could turn on the hose whenever I wanted and flood the grass with all the water it needed. I never had to walk anywhere to get water, and I certainly never went without. Did you?

I grew up in southern California. We never really SAVED water. But we sure did a good job of using it. And I'm not talking just about household use, but how much water was used in the aggregate sense. Yes, I remember some instances in which people were gently asked to be careful about their water use. There were times during hot summers that we were all supposed to use less water. But it's not like this was ever a real severe issue. People were asked not to wash their cars in the middle of summer, or maybe not water their lawns too much. But there was never a shortage of water--there was always water coming from the tap (this was after the big drought of 1977).

"Water", California, 2009. Photo by R.A.

There certainly were few moves toward changing the ways in which we used water--there was no major structural overhaul or attempt to rethink how we used water. All of those lawns and swimming pools throughout suburban neighborhoods illustrate this fact quite clearly. Lawns? If you think about it, the cultural habit of surrounding each and every little tract home with a small green swath of grass makes absolutely no sense. But making sense isn't what's at issue here--it's power that we're talking about (and this applies all over the world, not just to California). Power, and some well entrenched habits. Yes, access to water = power, and many people get used that to power. But this is going to become a bigger issue that more people (especially those in places like southern California) are going to have to think about.

Of course, there is a long history of water politics and conflicts in southern California. The battle between Owens Valley and the city of Los Angeles is one of the most well known examples (Here's one more link about this well known political battle). It's the story of a growing urban community living in a semi-desert environment that had to basically steal water to survive. And there's no way that Los Angeles could have ever grown to its present day size without making a power grab for water. There simply wasn't enough to support such a massive population. And, looking at Los Angeles, Orange County, Riverside County, and San Diego County today, it seems pretty clear that there really isn't enough water to go around--especially considering the absolute waste of so much water.

Some people think that water is basically the next oil, meaning that the international political conflicts that we see over oil today are going to be over water in the future. In many ways, this is already coming to fruition. Many people all over the world do not have access to clean water--and often this boils down to pure politics. A few days ago I watched the film "FLOW," which got me thinking a lot about water again. If you haven't seen it, the film is available via YouTube. It takes a global look at the politics of control of and access to water. Here's the first part:

Water access and use are issues that resonate with my research on development in Baja California as well. Large scale tourism development projects clearly control and use massive amounts of water. Hotels and resorts could not function without the "convenience" of clean water in each and every room. But then, there are the golf courses. Los Cabos already has a number of golf courses, many new development projects include yet another "world class" course. I'm not sure how this happened, but golf courses are one of the signs of prestige these days, so everyone tries to include one in their project in order to appeal to that "luxury" or "high-end" tourism market. But what happens to surrounding populations when these massive resorts and golf courses are built? What happens to water rights? What happens to the cost of access to water?

Tourism is a product. Tourism is sold via various forms of media; idealistic images of landscapes and environments become primary sales tools. Tourism businesses sell relaxation, romance, and luxury. They sell peace and quiet, and they sell adventure. Everything from surfing to diving to walking on those sandy beaches becomes a product for sale. But what are the trade-offs? What are the actual social and political costs of some of these products? What happens when these places are built? Are there winners and losers? And what about environmental damage and degradation? Where are the warning labels for "products" like international tourism? This is one way that I think we all need to look at tourism. We don't really need to look at the "impacts" of tourism as much as we need to look at the histories, relationships, and politics that pervade tourism development. And the effects of tourism development on water access is just one factor to consider. But it's a critical factor, and not one that you can expect to read about while perusing an in-flight magazine on your way to Cancun. Does it matter if someone else can't get clean water just a few miles away from your five star hotel? Maybe questions like this should at least become a part of the equation when tourists look for places to visit.

***

A golf course built in the middle of the desert may be picturesque to some people. I suppose it all depends on your personal ideals about beauty. To me golf courses are blatant symbols of power. The ability (and desire) to control water and use it for purely recreational purposes is astounding, all things considered. And I'm not just talking about all of the existing and proposed golf courses in Baja California, I'm talking about the courses that exist all over places like Southern California. Nothing against the sport of golf, but sometimes the use of resources is just beyond the pale. One of the first that always comes to mind when I think about this is Palm Springs. But then, I think my own home town of Carlsbad, CA has about three golf courses now. I understand the fact that golf courses appeal to tourists, and that they seem to improve the image of a city. But at some point, things are going to have to change. As the populations keep growing, people are going to have to rethink how they use water. This applies to everything from golf courses to washing dishes. But it seems to me that lots of Americans, at least, are trying to avoid thinking about these issues for as long as possible.

Drain, Southern California, 2008. Photo by R.A.

A lot of times when we think about water we think about where it ends up. We see water flowing along gutters or into drains and we wonder about waste. We wonder where it goes, how it will be treated, and then what will be done about it after that. But we should also think about things that happen long before we even reach for the tap. We should think about who has control of our water (and everyone else's water), and how some people can get it easily and others cannot. In the US, water is seemingly everywhere. Take a look at your local grocery store. Look at public parks, where drinking fountains are routine parts of the landscape. There surely doesn't seem to be any shortage, right? Distant histories, such as those of Owens Valley, speak otherwise. Water has been an issue in places like Southern California, and for a long time.

But California is just one aspect of the problem. It's a model, in many ways, of what NOT to do with water. Fortunately, there are some people who are thinking very seriously about water and making changes. But this is an issue that extends far beyond Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Owens Valley, and Baja California Sur. Yes, it matters how we use water. But we also have to think about water access and rights around the world, and specifically how some of our own politics and practices are connected to these issues. Water is a crucial resource that many people around the world simply cannot take for granted. Recently, the UN has declared access to clean water and sanitation a human right. Is that enough?

Foucault & Agency: Seek answers not you should

So, after dutifully performing my expected role as a responsible grad student and reading through a whole book about discipline and power (ironies noted), I went to seminar class to talk about Mr Foucault and his ideas in Discipline and Punish. One issue that came up (and which always seems to come up with Foucault) is agency. Does Foucault allow for agency? Is the guy too structural? Is he a determinist? Are we all doomed to live in a world in which the nebulous forces of power completely shape our minds, bodies, and futures through every imaginable means? I mean, they put CAMERAS in stop lights! We're being watched! The question comes up a lot with Foucault. I have read several pieces that tear Foucault to shreds in search of little scraps of resistance. The question also came up in seminar. So where's the resistance?

My answer: I don't really care if Foucault left room for agency, and if he didn't leave room for resistance I'm not going to lose any sleep. I'm not looking to join the Church of Foucault and using this as a chance to evaluate his program and ideas about life. Besides, I think Foucault makes it pretty clear that he's providing an analytical framework rather than a socio-political theory to live by (he pretty much spells this out in the History of Sexuality).

I'm not reading Discipline and Punish to find specific socio-political answers, but instead to look at how Foucault explores issues (and, of course, because certain agents of power have assigned this book). I mean, if there are answers or recipes for change in a book, great. But I don't really see the point in lamenting aspects of a book that don't exist. If it isn't about agency, then look elsewhere--or find ways to force it into the framework. To me, these aren't texts to be memorized and directly applied to daily life (at least not usually). Each text is a piece of a larger process of learning. It's not about being converted to one way of thought or another, but about taking a lot of ideas and information and evaluating them in conjunction--and then applying those ideas/info to specific questions.

But, that's pure opinion. As usual, I reserve the right to change my position on this matter if new evidence capsizes my whole perspective. Anyway, next week the Foucault train continues. Expect more thoughts about power as they relate to grad student life. If, of course, the deterministic and panoptic powers that be do not hinder my freedom and agency to express myself via the wonders of the internet.

You never know.