This essay produced in Dr. Christopher Voparil's seminar on postmodern ethics, in Union Institute and University's Ph.D. in Interdisciplinary Studies program, during the fall of 2010; this work was originally titled "Nussbaum Saves Internet Cave Dwellers."
If humanity is still living in Plato’s cave, some privileged sections of humanity have gained new access to weird shadow-making machines: fires and puppets have been replaced by laptops and instantaneous “user-created” content. Twitter and Facebook feeds splash our likenesses asunder as we comment to ourselves, about ourselves; the t-shirt worn by a colleague at a faculty meeting recently, “More People Have Read This T-Shirt Than Have Read Your Blog,” is flatly wrong. On television, themed reality rules the air, from Oprah to Bridezilla to Mythbusters: reality is entertainment, and some entertainment is becoming participatory.
Not allowing Plato’s cave to collapse beneath the weight of such accessible egoism, how can Nussbaum’s essentialist tenets inform and these new information-technology cavedwellers? What philosophical virtue may come from a Facebook status, a Twitter feed, or a blog entry; or, at the very least, how may these shadows be more authentic than those created by the folks in charge? Nussbaum’s essentialism may help any individual respond adequately to any shadows in this, Plato’s updated cave: if the relativism Nussbaum railed against were at play in this, our technologically-communicative society, individuals would subscribe to every blog, seek to read every Twitter feed, follow every news story through its cycle, bestow virtue upon each and every Youtube clip.
Nussbaum’s essentialism is useful, even critical, to an individual’s evaluative stance, among our new environments of technology and communication. Through brief examination of the evolution of reality television and electronic social networking, an important categorization of knowledge will emerge—one that sets this knowledge-environment in contrast to any other, and eliminates Plato’s conception of shadows in the cave: they are ours to broadcast, to upload. In this, Nussbaum’s essentialism provides a critical evaluative framework—if we are to be broadcasting and watching ourselves to this extent, we need to be able to critique our statements efficiently, clearly, and with “compassion and respect” (205).
A Short History of Reality (Television)
In 1948, Allan Funt discovered a new way for us to see ourselves: inspired by the new medium of recorded and edited television, Funt’s Candid Camera allowed viewers to watch ‘ordinary’ people react ‘typically’ in humorous situations. Funt had a “preoccupation for catching people off-guard” (Merged, para. 3), and his legacy as a Platonic shadow-maker may be larger than had first appeared: Funt never likely imagined his audience armed with their own video recording devices. My father bought one of the first video cameras available, and never regretted it.
I was in third grade when ABC premiered America’s Funniest Home Videos; the whole school was abuzz, in awe and human revelry, over having seen ourselves trip over our own feet, and banana peels, from coast to coast. As we punched away at early Apple computers, and cable television lines were strung throughout those suburbs, a new dimension of Plato’s cave was becoming clear: we were bound to be content providers, creators of distributable shadows, and communication as never before.
Alongside new wildly communicative technologies, Funt’s Candid Camera ideals ran amok; small broadcasting networks were eaten alive, and started to cast similar shadows; computers learned to talk to each other, and standard home computer platforms became accessible, even useful. There were more shadows to watch than ever before: I remember the day I realized we could obtain information about the weather from three sources—the radio, the cable television, or Prodigy, an early dial-up service. Beyond irrecognizable shadows, a new and chilling deluge: the duplication, and variation of shadows, all being piped in through circuitry that was ever-increasing in speed.
We The
Shadowmakers: New Categories of Knowledge
Beyond
reckless description of this informational phenomenon, an important
categorization began to take root, around the same time that Nussbaum was
writing out her essentialist tenets, to refute what she saw as “extreme
relativism… taken to be a recipe for social progress” (205). While broadcast
and cable television networks embraced (and continue to embrace) programming
with ‘candid’ principles at heart, the political impact of my father’s video
camera was growing: people were become empowered, gaining the ability to make
shadows of themselves—endlessly, ceaselessly, mindlessly.
With the rise of video-sharing, web conferencing and YouTube, humanity’s ability to cast its own shadows, and broadcast its own echoes, Nussbaum’s quick characterization of Plato’s cave allegory may be dismissed: “some souls see bits and pieces of reality as they struggle upwards” (206). The categorization of shadow-makers continues to blur, but the distinction comes every afternoon, as CNN introduces its “iReporters”—private individuals who have the ability to capture shadows; some choose to sell their captured shadows to groups of individuals, who cast out into public what may be believed. Media fury and quick judgement of conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart’s recent posting of Shirley Sherrod provides both a social and political example of what Nussbaum identified as “extreme relativism” (205); the same might judge all of Youtube, Wikipedia, or the Internet as a whole, as one seamless virtuous contribution to knowledge.
With the rise of video-sharing, web conferencing and YouTube, humanity’s ability to cast its own shadows, and broadcast its own echoes, Nussbaum’s quick characterization of Plato’s cave allegory may be dismissed: “some souls see bits and pieces of reality as they struggle upwards” (206). The categorization of shadow-makers continues to blur, but the distinction comes every afternoon, as CNN introduces its “iReporters”—private individuals who have the ability to capture shadows; some choose to sell their captured shadows to groups of individuals, who cast out into public what may be believed. Media fury and quick judgement of conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart’s recent posting of Shirley Sherrod provides both a social and political example of what Nussbaum identified as “extreme relativism” (205); the same might judge all of Youtube, Wikipedia, or the Internet as a whole, as one seamless virtuous contribution to knowledge.
“Substantive
Evaluation” Across Digital Time and Space
Importantly, however, we may choose to be shadow-watchers or shadow-creators in this communicative cave, and this makes Nussbaum’s essentialism more useful than ever: fearing “the collapse of the progressive into the reactionary through the denial of substantive evaluation” (211), she seeks to establish a framework that acknowledges “the most central features of our common humanity, without which no individual can be counted as human” (215). Trying to release humanity’s experience from the cave, Nussbaum’s full essentialist proposal regards critical, evaluative inquiry as most useful.
Seeking to compile a list of characteristics that define the human world as separate from the non-human world, Nussbaum identifies two principles at work behind her “thick vague theory of the good:” alongside establishing a “broadly shared general consensus about the features whose absence means the end of a human form of life,” Nussbaum’s essentialism flatly refutes subjectivists’ objections, Nussbaum states that essentialists “do recognize others as humans across many divisions of time and space” (215).
Full application of Nussbaum’s essentialism reaches far beyond individuals’ abilities of electronic self-expression; with a “capacity to function” serving as essentialism’s primary goal, public policy is to seek to “make citizens capable of the bare minimum” (221). This discussion does not seek to identify holistic applications of Nussbaum’s essentialism in this, our complicated political scene; inside this informational, technological landscape, not all user-created content is created alike, and essentialism may promote a useful framework for evaluation of said content.
Importantly, however, we may choose to be shadow-watchers or shadow-creators in this communicative cave, and this makes Nussbaum’s essentialism more useful than ever: fearing “the collapse of the progressive into the reactionary through the denial of substantive evaluation” (211), she seeks to establish a framework that acknowledges “the most central features of our common humanity, without which no individual can be counted as human” (215). Trying to release humanity’s experience from the cave, Nussbaum’s full essentialist proposal regards critical, evaluative inquiry as most useful.
Seeking to compile a list of characteristics that define the human world as separate from the non-human world, Nussbaum identifies two principles at work behind her “thick vague theory of the good:” alongside establishing a “broadly shared general consensus about the features whose absence means the end of a human form of life,” Nussbaum’s essentialism flatly refutes subjectivists’ objections, Nussbaum states that essentialists “do recognize others as humans across many divisions of time and space” (215).
Full application of Nussbaum’s essentialism reaches far beyond individuals’ abilities of electronic self-expression; with a “capacity to function” serving as essentialism’s primary goal, public policy is to seek to “make citizens capable of the bare minimum” (221). This discussion does not seek to identify holistic applications of Nussbaum’s essentialism in this, our complicated political scene; inside this informational, technological landscape, not all user-created content is created alike, and essentialism may promote a useful framework for evaluation of said content.
Facebook’s
“Farmville” and Nussbaum’s Functionality
Facebook, the most popular social networking site, allows users to “like” others’ links, statements, and public declarations. Echoing Nussbaum’s essentialism, a recent discussion on my profile asked if Facebook should add “I Don’t Understand,” “Your Grammar Is Wrong,” “Your Concept Is Underexpressed” and other such buttons for evaluative critique. Without delving into how public policy seeks to support essentialism, Nussbaum’s thesis provides an evaluative platform from which an individual may both surf the web, or generate and contribute content for it: “once we identify a group of especially important functions in human life, we are then in a position to ask what social and political institutions are doing about them” (214).
Nussbaum’s “especially important functions” may not include banal reality television programming and virtual environment Facebook applications such as Farmville; regardless of these, a spectrum of virtuous, virtual discourse is promoting and further prompting analysis of “social and political institutions”—it is individuals’ “position” that new communicative technologies have, and continue to change. Surely the broad dissemination of information through humanity’s new networks may prove more virtuous. From Wikipedia to CSPAN’s comprehensive web archive to Google’s mapping and documentation efforts, the evolution of our digital discourse makes difficult any generalizations and predictions, beyond some further collection of knowledge—not merely a collection of egoism and shadows.
YouTube is helping demolish corporate reality television: the Internet is a different kind of Platonic, televised cave, one in which individuals may abandon Funt’s candid cameras, for their own rehearsed, scripted webcasts, films, music videos. Full exploration of Nussbaum’s essentialist tenets may help, in part, establish our “position” from which we may describe and evaluate each other’s digital experiences: here, two will be discussed briefly, seeking to understand more fully how Nussbaum’s essentialism is supported by what is, at best, a tricky “position” for an individual.
Facebook, the most popular social networking site, allows users to “like” others’ links, statements, and public declarations. Echoing Nussbaum’s essentialism, a recent discussion on my profile asked if Facebook should add “I Don’t Understand,” “Your Grammar Is Wrong,” “Your Concept Is Underexpressed” and other such buttons for evaluative critique. Without delving into how public policy seeks to support essentialism, Nussbaum’s thesis provides an evaluative platform from which an individual may both surf the web, or generate and contribute content for it: “once we identify a group of especially important functions in human life, we are then in a position to ask what social and political institutions are doing about them” (214).
Nussbaum’s “especially important functions” may not include banal reality television programming and virtual environment Facebook applications such as Farmville; regardless of these, a spectrum of virtuous, virtual discourse is promoting and further prompting analysis of “social and political institutions”—it is individuals’ “position” that new communicative technologies have, and continue to change. Surely the broad dissemination of information through humanity’s new networks may prove more virtuous. From Wikipedia to CSPAN’s comprehensive web archive to Google’s mapping and documentation efforts, the evolution of our digital discourse makes difficult any generalizations and predictions, beyond some further collection of knowledge—not merely a collection of egoism and shadows.
YouTube is helping demolish corporate reality television: the Internet is a different kind of Platonic, televised cave, one in which individuals may abandon Funt’s candid cameras, for their own rehearsed, scripted webcasts, films, music videos. Full exploration of Nussbaum’s essentialist tenets may help, in part, establish our “position” from which we may describe and evaluate each other’s digital experiences: here, two will be discussed briefly, seeking to understand more fully how Nussbaum’s essentialism is supported by what is, at best, a tricky “position” for an individual.
Affliation
and Separateness
Reality television may be seen as having transformed, shifting from the informational (This Old House) to the sensational (Extreme Home Makeover), and thus supporting a metaphysical realism: home repair is a lavish, emotional, and generally inaccessible process. While Nussbaum’s essentialism would likely support programming that enables individuals’ “capacity to function,” two of her tenets stand in useful contrast: “separateness” (220) and “some sense of affilation and concern for other(s)” (219).
To what extent does an individual need to display “affiliation”, so as not to be judged as being “too strange to be human?” (219). Scores of candid video clips populate Youtube’s catalog; beyond language, individuals recognize and view each other being scared when snakes pop out of a can, or when inanimate objects come to life, surprising ourselves to some milder extent than reality itself is able. Candid cameras reveal our humanity, as we see ourselves as likely to play one of the roles being presented before us, and manufactured television “reality” programming sell such affiliation specifically—that the construction crews may descend upon our residence and leave in their wake a new kitchen; that we may be so proficient among hard-nosed cowboys playing high stakes Texas Hold ‘Em; that we may dispense justice, and may depart from the studio as empowered as can be, as if we had been the one who was dispensing Dr. Phil’s advice, or Judge Judy’s justice. These programs offer cheap transformative thrills as grounds for human affliation; Bob Barker, and his legacy as longtime Price Is Right host, may be the high priest of such baseline human affiliation, as individuals may experience a shadowy relationship to the thrill of winning a new car, dinette set, or vacation.
Nussbaum’s tenet of “separateness” (220) may be supported best by identifying a technological plateau: beyond casting a shadow or producing only an echo, an individual enabled with a computer and Internet connection may produce images, video, audio—transmitting two of our five senses to any and all other so-abled individuals, in real time. “There is no life yet known,” writes Nussbaum, “that really does… fail to use the words “mine” and “not mine” in some personal and non-shared way” (220). As Facebook’s privacy settings continue to be the focus of legislative scrutiny and litigation, and as information-sharing has helped promote new cultures of identity thievery, further examination of these tenets of essentialism might help establish a discernable, practical sense of identity for individuals—whether or not they choose to identify themselves through scaffolds of social networking.
Nussbaum’s essentialism, framed as response to a perceived rampant “subjectivism,” builds a much more useful and relevant philosophical framework, one which may account for, and evaluate, all of our 21st century shadow-types that dance upon all of our new cave walls. Nussbaum seeks to establish only a limited reality, as “pure, unmediated account of human essence” is known only to render “deep confusion” (207): we have, through new venues of technological communication, become the shadow-makers. As in Nussbaum’s example, of the Marxist who was thrown out of a philosophy conference for his “commitment… to a determinate conception of human need and human flourishing,” (212), shadow-makers’ promotion of functionality is becoming only more critical, as our cameras become ever more candid.
Reality television may be seen as having transformed, shifting from the informational (This Old House) to the sensational (Extreme Home Makeover), and thus supporting a metaphysical realism: home repair is a lavish, emotional, and generally inaccessible process. While Nussbaum’s essentialism would likely support programming that enables individuals’ “capacity to function,” two of her tenets stand in useful contrast: “separateness” (220) and “some sense of affilation and concern for other(s)” (219).
To what extent does an individual need to display “affiliation”, so as not to be judged as being “too strange to be human?” (219). Scores of candid video clips populate Youtube’s catalog; beyond language, individuals recognize and view each other being scared when snakes pop out of a can, or when inanimate objects come to life, surprising ourselves to some milder extent than reality itself is able. Candid cameras reveal our humanity, as we see ourselves as likely to play one of the roles being presented before us, and manufactured television “reality” programming sell such affiliation specifically—that the construction crews may descend upon our residence and leave in their wake a new kitchen; that we may be so proficient among hard-nosed cowboys playing high stakes Texas Hold ‘Em; that we may dispense justice, and may depart from the studio as empowered as can be, as if we had been the one who was dispensing Dr. Phil’s advice, or Judge Judy’s justice. These programs offer cheap transformative thrills as grounds for human affliation; Bob Barker, and his legacy as longtime Price Is Right host, may be the high priest of such baseline human affiliation, as individuals may experience a shadowy relationship to the thrill of winning a new car, dinette set, or vacation.
Nussbaum’s tenet of “separateness” (220) may be supported best by identifying a technological plateau: beyond casting a shadow or producing only an echo, an individual enabled with a computer and Internet connection may produce images, video, audio—transmitting two of our five senses to any and all other so-abled individuals, in real time. “There is no life yet known,” writes Nussbaum, “that really does… fail to use the words “mine” and “not mine” in some personal and non-shared way” (220). As Facebook’s privacy settings continue to be the focus of legislative scrutiny and litigation, and as information-sharing has helped promote new cultures of identity thievery, further examination of these tenets of essentialism might help establish a discernable, practical sense of identity for individuals—whether or not they choose to identify themselves through scaffolds of social networking.
Nussbaum’s essentialism, framed as response to a perceived rampant “subjectivism,” builds a much more useful and relevant philosophical framework, one which may account for, and evaluate, all of our 21st century shadow-types that dance upon all of our new cave walls. Nussbaum seeks to establish only a limited reality, as “pure, unmediated account of human essence” is known only to render “deep confusion” (207): we have, through new venues of technological communication, become the shadow-makers. As in Nussbaum’s example, of the Marxist who was thrown out of a philosophy conference for his “commitment… to a determinate conception of human need and human flourishing,” (212), shadow-makers’ promotion of functionality is becoming only more critical, as our cameras become ever more candid.
Bibliography
Merged Media. (2010).
Candid Camera Online! Retrieved July
29, 2010 from http://www.candidcamera.com/cc2/cc2e.html
Nussbaum, Martha. “Human Functioning
and Social Justice: In Defense of Aristotelian Essentialism.” Political
Theory, vol. 20, no. 2 (May 1992): 202-246. Retrieved August 3, 2010
from http://www.jstor.org.proxy.myunion.edu/stable/192002
Picsdigger.com. (2010). Allen Funt. Retrieved August 2, 2010 from http://picsdigger.com/keyword/alan%20funt/
No comments:
Post a Comment