After all, what is a society other than a collective agreement of the meaning of objects?
Generally of interest, but I particularly liked that little line.
* researcher in infrastructure futures and theory (University of Sheffield, UK)
* science fiction author and literary critic
* writer, theorist, critical futurist
* dishevelled mountebank
After all, what is a society other than a collective agreement of the meaning of objects?
Generally of interest, but I particularly liked that little line.
2 min read
Plucking out a few important and (hah!) connected points from a Jan Chipchase splurge on travelling through "Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan’s GBAO [Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region] and China’s western provinces":
12: The premium for buying gasoline in a remote village in the GBAO is 20% more than the nearest town. Gasoline is harder to come by, and more valuable than connectivity.
42: After the Urumqi riots in 2009 the Chinese government cut of internet connectivity to Xinjiang province for a full year. Today connectivity is so prevalent and integrated into every aspect of Xinjiang society, that cutting it off it would hurt the state’s ability to control the population more than hinder their opposition. There are many parts to the current state strategy is to limit subversion, the most visible of which is access to the means of travel. For example every gas station between Kashi and Urumqi has barbed wire barriers at its gates, and someone checking IDs.
60: The difference between 2.5G and 3G? In the words of a smartphone wielding GBAO teenager on the day 3G data was switched on her town, “I can breathe”.
Incredibly rapid habituation to networked and wireless IT among hinterland populations; technoscientific "seeing like a state" governance paradigm continues apace; controlling movement of physical materials in space easier and more effective than controlling movement of information in context of governing hinterlands. (Look out for that latter one in Brexit Britain; the weak signals have been there for a long, long time.)
5 min read
I would say I'm speechless over the latest bon mots from the UK's water regulator, but as the paragraphs below demonstrate, that would be a lie.
Cathryn Ross, the chief executive of Ofwat, said: “The uncomfortable truth is that, when it comes to retail offers, water companies provide an analogue service in a digital age. Customers tell us they think they should have the freedom to choose and don’t understand why water is the only retail market in which there isn’t some form of competition.”
Oh gosh, yes -- your discomfort with this conclusion is palpable, isn't it? I'd be interested to see how that question was phrased to those customers; y'know, whether it was an open-ended "what would be good?" sort of question, or whether you delicately steered them toward the idea that they should have "freedom to choose" (which, lest we forget, is a reminder that late-late capitalism is essentially an endless Groundhog-Day repetition of the penultimate scene in the original Ghostbusters, wherein one is constantly offered the opportunity to "choose the form of the destructor").
But really, Mrs Ross, if you and your colleagues in the UK's water regulatory body can't think of a way to answer that lack of understanding in your client base, I politely suggest that you are in the wrong industry, and that you might be better suited to commodities trading, as you seem to have the requisite instincts.
If you want to explain to people why they don't have a choice of water supplier, you start with our old friend, the hydrological cycle; then you get a map of their region, labelled with the locations of reservoirs and watersheds, and the main trunk pipes of your network, and you explain, as patiently as possible, that the reason you don't get a choice of water company is because geography and physics are immutable even to the magic of capitalism, despite repeated claims to the contrary.
You explain that the hypothetical saving of £8 per household (which is a 25% increase on the per-household savings you were quoting last month, incidentally) will be generated (if indeed it is generated at all) by the same sort of frantic market churn that's ramping up the costs of their gas an electricity every damned quarter, and presumably accompanied by the same opaque and wilfully deceptive pricing tiers to be encountered in the energy market (which, lest you need reminding, is a market repeatedly found to be rigged, over-priced and utterly baffling to most consumers, and appears to have a regulatory body just as craven and capitulatory as that by which you are currently employed).
You point out that it would actually make much more sense to manage water in the UK through one united system that covers the entire country, allowing for movement of water between regions, but that such an option is ideological poison to the sharp-suited lobbyists who really make the choices that matter; you might even reiterate the fact that, since acquiring the actual physical infrastructure of the old water boards -- infrastructure for which the private watercos paid, quite literally, nothing -- the companies you're supposed to be regulating have systematically underinvested in said systems because it made more sense to keep paying dividends to their shareholders, given it turns out that turning a profit on the provision of safe and reliable water for all is extremely hard to do -- in fact, almost impossible -- unless you take shortcuts on capacity and maintenance.
But why bother, eh? People like choice; people like things to be cheaper, even when they're already way cheaper than they realistically should be. Free markets solve everything, after all -- heck, the only reason water isn't too cheap to meter is that the market just isn't free enough!
Of course, this rather elides the root of the problem that marketisation is really meant to solve, namely the fact that the south-east of England already has way too large a population for its watersheds to provide for, while large parts of the north have surplus supply -- thanks, not at all incidentally, to serious public investment back before Thatcher and friends decided to let British heavy industry decline, again based on the assumption that Markets are Magic™! It elides the fact that water marketisation will end up being one more way that the south-east and London gets to suck the marrow out of the hinterlands. It elides golf-courses; it elides the practices of soft-drinks companies and Big Agriculture; it elides the craven complicity of well-heeled consultants and experts from the Sainted Order of the Revolving Door in their enthusiasm to appease the caprice of Mammon, who is their only lord and master.
But it's all too complicated to explain to the proles, isn't it? So buy them off with some bullshit about marginal savings on household bills, file your report; tell Caesar what is pleasing unto Caesar. After all, odds are you'll be dead (or at least comfortably retired) before the true scale of the deliberate and monumental fuck-up you've just advocated will become sufficiently apparent that anyone starts asking where the bodies are buried.
The necessity of narrative (and narrative hermeneutics) in 'understanding the human realm' is threefold:
Relates to alterity, 'the Otherness within'; cf Freud, we are mysteries to ourselves; viz Ricouer, 'the hermeneutic dimension of the human situation is insurpassable'.
We cannot know with any certainty how an event or constellation of events works itself out in a life; all we can do is interpret. [...] as we engage in the arduous process of self-understanding, our only recourse is to turn to "signs scattered in the world" -- our hope being that, somehow, they might find a suitable home in story.
Relates to fidelity; there is 'no more fitting and appropriate vehicle for exploring the otherness of both others and oneself'
Example: why did author become a scholar of narrative, rather than some other sort of scholar, or indeed something other than a scholar?
--> Deep question: 'How do we become who we are? [...] How deep do the reasons go?'
The narrative unconscious: '... those aspects of our lives bound up with history and culture, the tradition into which we are thrust and which, in its own obscure ways, infiltrates and constitutes being.'
So, personal factors and life-events, certainly, but also 'supra-personal' factors (e.g. 'intellectual climate', traditions).
Point being: there are many reasons why we become what we are, and those reasons, proximal and distal, and extended in time 'can only come together in and through the process of interpretation'.
However, hermeneutic circle -- with its 'mutually constructive relationship' between episode and plot -- means that it's very problematic to talk about objectivity. Hence fidelity:
The "faithfulness" it connotes is not just a matter of interpretive adequacy, but also one of interpretive _care_, of a sort that preserves the otherness of the past as well as the Otherness of those -- including oneself -- whose past it is.
Hermeneutics [...] is a form of constructionism that maintains an effort to speak the _truth_ -- one, indeed, that insists that truth can only emerge in and through the interpretive constructions one fashions.
So, finitude and certainty are not possible... but interpretation and hindsight might combine to produce insight, which is neither a finding or a making, but a 'finding-through-making'.
Therefore fidelity is 'tied to that kind of respectful beholding that lets the text of the past appear as other -- even if this "other" is none other than oneself.'
Relates to 'ex-centricity' -- 'locating those sources of "inspiration" outside the self that condition the stories we tell about ourselves.
Three dimensions of narrative hermeneutics:
a) Relational dimension: 'our stories are intimately bound up with those of others'.
b) Existential dimension: 'others -- especially, but not exclusively, human others -- provide the "motive fuel" [...] for the stories we tell about ourselves.'
c) Ethical dimension: 'stories we tell [...] are always, to a greater or lesser extent, fuelled by the people and "projects" to whom and which we are most responsible'.
Therefore the combination of narrative hermenetics with the project of self-understanding 'serves to show that there is _no_ self, no story of the self, apart from the myriad relationships within which they take form'.
'Thinking Otherwise' (--> reframing narrative hermeneutics)
The standard riff is that narrative hermeneutics is a process of meaning-making; meaning-making is clearly necessary, but perhaps not sufficient.
... suggesting that the subject is not only a meaning-maker [...] but is also him- or her-self "made" -- _given_, as Marion (2002) puts it -- constituted by the myriad phenomena, both human and nonhuman, encountered in experience.
If the proximal source of one's narrative is the self, therefore the distal source is the Other.
... narrative hermeneutics might itself become more Other-directed and "ex-centric", more attuned to the ways in which meanings [...] become inscribed in the movement of subjectivity. [In doing so, the subject] remains the site within which the world is refigured and reimagined. And narrative remains its primary language.
Lots of interesting ideas in here. Most pertinent to current interests: a more 'ex-centric' hermeneutics of narrative offers opportunities to look at the role played by non-human others (e.g. institutions, organisations, systems?) in the construction of the self; can such a role in narrative self-construction be identified for new technologies and infrastructures? Where would one look for such material? How would that influence manifest?
2 min read
I've long been an admirer of Adam Roberts, and that's as least as much for his critical writing as for his fiction output, if not perhaps a little more. I put this down (at least in part) to his stint as a 'columnist' when I was still running Futurismic as a regular webzine*, where I was first exposed to his Borgesian strategy of reviewing imaginary works; I'm sure he's not the only source of the notion I have that a review should in some manner stylistically reflect the text to which it is responding, but he's always my go-to example of someone who does it routinely, and does it well.
And here's an example, just published as part of this year's Strange Horizons funding drive. Because how else to appropriately respond to a Baen publication about anthropogenic climate change written entirely in blank verse, but in blank verse?
The fact remains this is a verse-novel;
And as such, frankly, it’s a curate’s egg:
In equal measures striking and inert.
No question it’s echt science fictional
A perfectly effective instance of
This kind of techno-thriller doomsday yarn
(Though it mutates into a stranger and
More satisfying kind of story by its end).
And Turner’s good on "door dilated" stuff
Those kinds of unobtrusive details that
Hallmark much trad SF...
The closing section is the key, though, in making clear that pastiche can and should have purpose beyond the simple joy of rummaging in the dress-up box.
1 min read
Geoff Manaugh and Keller Easterling in conversation*; SPAN 2015. Infrastructural activism in a matrix of spatial multipliers; burglary as black-hat useability consultancy as the decoding of design; the science-fictional strategies that emerge from international maritime law; the FTZ as an ever-iterating species of privateer utopia.
[* Not really a conversation so much as an exchange of longer pre-scripted bits. Which is a perfectly legitimate format, to be clear. It's just not a conversation.]
3 min read
So a big shipping company went bankrupt -- why should you care? Because it's a sign of serious trouble in the global infrastructural metasystem also known as "the supply chain":
With little or no inventory of essential goods and raw materials retailers and manufacturers are subject to disruptions all along their supply chains which reach around the globe. A breakdown at any step can quickly bring activity to a halt on the factory floor or on the sales floor.
Just-in-time is very efficient financially (until, of course, it isn't). Little money is tied up in inventories or the space to warehouse them. But just-in-time is not very resilient. It used to be that businesses stockpiled goods and critical resources to ensure against disruptions. But the advent of computerized tracking combined with more efficient shipping practices worked to end the stockpiling of inventories.
The Hanjin bankruptcy also calls into the question the wisdom of allowing so much freight--7.8 percent of all trans-Pacific U.S. freight--to be handled by one carrier. And yet large size and just-in-time systems create what economists like to call economies of scale. Goods and services are provided more cheaply.
But such systems are not resilient. Resilience often requires redundancy and that spells inefficiency in today's business climate.
This problem is endemic to the majority of infrastructures, if not all of them. Optimisation is the enemy of resilience -- and, indeed, can end up being counterproductive. All complex systems end up with a certain amount of loss to noise and friction, and it is often possible to iterate much of that lossiness away by tweaking the system, adding feedback loops, that sort of thing. But there's a problem not unlike the EROEI problem in energy extraction, in that once the major problems are fixed, the minor problems that remain become ever more subtle and difficult to work on, and you eventually reach a tipping-point where you're expending as many resources on trying to squelch the noise as you expect to recover by squelching it (which takes you into Red Queen's Race territory, wherein you're running as fast as you can simply to stay in place).
This is compounded by an approach to systems management that indulges in what Haraway indentified as the God's-eye view -- it is impossible to truly understand any system to which you perceive yourself as being somehow external or superior.
But mostly it's a bottom-line thing: businesses like Hanjin compete on capacity, as pointed out above, which means that profit margins are very, very thin (a fact obscured by the sheer number of transactions), and the arbitration systems on which the market is based keep a downward pressure on price (to the extent that it is often possible to find shipping capacity available at negative prices -- capacity which the shipper will effectively compensate you for using). The Hanjin bankruptcy may mean we've reached a point where the profit margin of running a sizable shipping company has reached parity with the inescapable losses from noise in the system: they effectively cancel each other out, and the organisation runs at a net loss.
What happens when there's no money to be made in moving matter around?