In Digital Vertigo, Andrew Keen compares the social media experience to being in Jeremy Bentham’s Inspection House. (1) The term usually used is the Panopticon. You can view Bentham’s actual plans at this link.
In short, Bentham intended the Panopticon to be used to monitor large groups of people in institutions such as prisons, schools, hospitals, and factories. Bentham writes: “It is obvious that, in all these instances, the more constantly the persons to be inspected are under the eyes of the persons who should inspect them, the more perfectly will the purpose X of the establishment have been attained.” (2)
The architecture of the Panopticon, therefore, creates an efficient method for all people within the institution to be constantly monitored by an inspector. (Recall, Bentham’s plan was formulated and implemented to some extent in the days before video surveillance.) Bentham’s idea was that the “cells” (or rooms) should be arranged in a circle with a tower in the center, where the inspector could at any time monitor the movements and actions of each of the inmates (or patients, students, what have you).
As Michel Foucault later writes, the individual cells (or rooms) in the Panopticon become places of performance. He states, “They are like so many cages, so many theatres, in which each actor is alone, perfectly individualized and constantly visible. The panoptic mechanism arranges spatial unities that make it possible to see constantly and to recognize immediately.” (3)
It is likely this idea that Keen picks up on when he compares social media to the Panopticon, and in fact, he quotes part of this passage (p. 20). He has a point. In a way, social media provides a platform where the individual person, alone with his or her phone or computer, performs acts that are “on display” for others. Indeed, the idea of social media participation as a performance has interested some researchers. (3)
Yet, Keen seems to overlook some important differences between the Panopticon and social media. As Foucault asserts, the Panopticon establishes and maintains a power differential between the individual and the ones “in charge.” He writes, “Each individual, in his place, is securely confined to ca cell from which he is seen from the front by the supervisor; but the side walls prevent him from coming into contact with his companions. He is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication.”
This is not the situation in social media. Online, participants can see the behavior of “his companions” (more on this in the next post); moreover, they are participants by choice. In the inspection-houses Bentham writes about, people are unwilling residents – prisoners, inmates, hospital patients – or else they are there through a tough–choice reciprocal agreement, in which they are giving up some of their privacy in order to receive something valuable in return. Students may allow themselves to be monitored for an education; factory workers for a salary. Even then, there is a level of choice involved. In social networking sites, however, participation is entirely by choice. Nobody is required to use Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or any other social media platform. And while we may argue there is an expectation of reciprocity or reward (“likes,” social connection, even glory), the activity is still voluntary.
This is not the situation in social media. Not only can participants can see the behavior of “his companions” (more on this later) but they are participants by choice. In the inspection-houses Bentham writes about, people are unwilling residents – prisoners, hospital patients – or else they are there through a reciprocal agreement, in which they are giving up some of their privacy in order to receive something in return. Students may allow themselves to be monitored for an education; factory workers for a salary. Even then, there is a level of choice involved. In social networking sites, however, participation is entirely by choice. And while we may argue there is an expectation of reward (“likes,” social connection, even glory), the activity is still voluntary.
Additionally, while participants in social media are indeed objects of information, as Keen explains well, they are also subjects of communication. Unlike the residents of the Panopticon, people posting on social media do have voices and can challenge the “inspector” in varying degrees of success. In this regard, social media is more like a public forum where varying opinions are presented and discussed. (5) In fact, it is the subjective and public nature of the communication online that makes it a valuable commodity.
Next up: More on seeing one’s companions, the power structure of being seen, and the work of the social media participant
- Keen, Andrew. Digital Vertigo: How Today’s Online Social Revolution Is Dividing, Diminishing, and Disorienting Us. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2012. Print.
- Bentham, Jeremy. Panopticon: Or the Inspection-House. Reproduced online at http://www.ics.uci.edu/~djp3/classes/2012_01_INF241/papers/PANOPTICON.pdf
- Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Vintage Books, 1979. Print.
- Some examples include:Zhao, Xuan, et al. “The many faces of Facebook: Experiencing social media as performance, exhibition, and personal archive.” Proceedings of the SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. ACM, 2013.
Papacharissi, Zizi. “Without you, I’m nothing: Performances of the self on Twitter.” International journal of communication 6 (2012): 18.
Walther, Joseph B. “Group and interpersonal effects in international computer‐mediated collaboration.” Human Communication Research 23.3 (1997): 342-369.
- Television is a better comparison. SeeNewcomb, Horace and Paul M. Hirsch. 1983. “TV as a Cultural Forum.” Quarterly Review of Film Studies, 8, no. 3: 45-55.
I’ve recently finished the book #digitalvertigo by @ajkeen, or, in conventional rendering, Digital Vertigo: How Today’s Online Social Revolution is Dividing, Diminishing, and Disorientating Us by Andrew Keen.* He begins the book with the idea of hypervisibility, and draws a soft comparison between the publicness of participating in social media to Jeremy Bentham’s Auto-Icon.
I remember learning about Bentham as an undergrad, but I don’t recall which class it was. I remember cringing with disgust when the professor described Bentham’s body as being taxidermied and then wheeled out to attend board meetings at University College in London. The description (or my recollection of it) isn’t quite accurate, as it is only his skeleton, padded and dressed up in his actual clothes, that remains on display at UCL.
(I’ll let you Google photos of the Auto-Icon and ascribe your own adjective to it. You can also find photos of his head, which was preserved but rendered grotesque by faulty methods of mummification. The head is not placed on his skeleton but locked away in a vault. You can read the story, and view a 3-D virtual tour at this link.)
But back to Keen’s point. He makes the comparison between the Auto-Icon (and apparently its dizzying effect on him) and what he calls the hypervisibility of being on social media. He writes:
“I realized that the Auto-Icon, this ‘man who is his own image,’ represents the future and Bentham’s corpse is actually you, me and everyone else who have imprisoned themselves I today’s digital inspection house.” (p. 13).
Does the comparison work? Yes, in the sense that people who post on social media willingly put themselves in the public eye, to an extent. The average person isn’t quite as “hypervisible” to other people as Keen (for most of us, our presence is limited and we are less noticed). Yet, Keen isn’t just referring to fame; he also discusses how social networks and related organizations (such as ad trackers) collect personal information about each person that posts. Even if your digital footprint is small, you are still hypervisible, Keen asserts.
To be fair to Keen, the book is more complex than I’ve described above and covers many valid and intriguing points. But I want to focus on just a couple of them over the next several days in subsequent posts.
1) The “digital inspection house.” Keen compares social media to Bentham’s idea of the Inspection House, or the Panopticon. I’m not sure the comparison fits.
2) Private vs. public. As I was reading, I kept looking for mention of Hannah Arendt. She was mentioned once, briefly, for her ideas on totalitarianism. Yet, her ideas on the private, the public, and the social are screaming to be heard here.
*If you become a regular reader (and I hope you do), you’ll notice that the books I read tend to be several years old. Or older. Several reasons for that; let’s just say, I’m not trendy. Digital Vertigo was published by St. Martin’s Press, New York, in 2012.
The About section explains the title of my blog, but I didn’t have an easy time arriving at it, and The Accidental Cyborg wasn’t my first choice. Rather, what popped into my mind first was the story of Athena and Arachne.
The Myth – Athena and Arachne
As with any mythological story, many versions have been told through the centuries, but perhaps the most well-known was related by Ovid in Metamorphoses, Book VI. (Ovid uses Minerva rather than Athena here, but the story is derived from the ancient Greek, so I will use Athena as I summarize.) As the story goes, Arachne was an amazingly talented weaver and capable of creating the most beautiful clothes and tapestries. She boasted that she was so good that her work was superior to the goddess Pallas Athena, patroness (among other things) of weaving.
Athena learned of Arachne’s boast and came to her disguised as an old woman. She warned the young woman to curb her hubris, but Arachne became scornful and insisted that she was the best. Athena then threw off her disguise and challenged Arachne to a contest. In Ovid’s version, Athena recognizes that Arachne’s tapestry is more beautiful and her weaving more skillful. In anger, Athena turns Arachne into a spider.
I like the myth for a number of reasons related to technology.
Technology and Technê
When I tell people I study and write about technology, they jump immediately to computers, electronics, and cell phones. Technology is broader than that, I try to tell them; it includes every item (artifact) and process that people have ever created. Heidegger, in his famous essay, “The Question Concerning Technology,” describes the ancient idea of technê:
There was a time when it was not technology alone that bore the name technê. Once that revealing that brings forth truth into the splendor of radiant appearing was also called technê. Once there was a time when the bringing-forth of the true into the beautiful was called technê. And the poiêsis of the fine arts was also called technê. (1)
Heidegger seems to make a distinction between the ancient arts and crafts and the technology that we think of as modern. I understand his point, and for that reason I wanted to highlight the idea of technê as handcraft, creation, and art – just as the tapestries of Athena and Arachne illustrate.
Yet, I am not so pessimistic as Heidegger, and I don’t see a clear distinction between ancient and modern technologies. We human beings have always created and crafted nature for our purposes. There have always been both positive and negative effects. We have always been capable of destroying our world (as we understand it at the time) and of making great things that save us. I want to write about it all.
And that leads me to the second reason.
Both Athena and Arachne weave tapestries that create images of the gods. As Ovid describes, Athena shows the gods in glorious deeds, but Arachne depicts the gods in acts of deception and rape. The contrast is open to numerous interpretations, especially in terms of theology. Has Arachne been blasphemous? Or is Athena in denial? Is the truth a matter of interpretation? Good questions all.
In weaving the tapestries, the two women express starkly different perspectives of the world they see around them. I propose that the creation of technology is an expression of humankind, of how we see the world and how we want to see the world.
The tapestry has long been a metaphor for not only for the telling of stories but also for the creation, direction, or sustenance of lives. In Greek and Roman mythology, the Three Fates were often depicted as spinning and weaving the destinies of the lives of mortals. And there are others throughout the world closely associated with cloth-making, such as Holda, Neith, and the Valkyries. Then here’s Penelope from the Odyssey, who controlled her own destiny, by weaving. In more modern stories, we might add Madame Defarge of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, whose knitting abets the revolution.
Is it coincidence that so many stories and myths put women at the loom? This brings me to my third reason.
Women and Technology
As the mythology highlights, women have always been involved in the creation and use of technology, even if in disguise, behind the scenes, or otherwise marginalized. So, yes, there’s a little bit of feminism involved in my attraction to the story of Athena and Arachne. I haven’t done any formal study of feminism, but in this blog I naturally bring a female perspective to the study of technology, society, and culture.
The Hilanderas (The Spinners)
The image above shows a painting called The Hilanderas by the Spanish painter, Diego Velázquez (about 1657). It depicts the contest between Athena and Arachne. It’s displayed at the Museo del Prado in Madrid. I have never been there, but thanks to the technologies of photography and the internet, I can view it and learn about it.
Another mention: Carole King, Tapestry.
(1). Martin Heidegger, “The Question Concerning Technology,” in The Question Concerning Technology and Other, trans. by William Lovitt, New York: Harper Perennial, 1977, p. 34.
“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater.