Notes on Freedom

Libertarian, humanist social theory

Sexting and the pornification of intimacy

What is worrying about sexting is not that people pass nude photos around their friends or post them online. It’s far worse that they were supposed to keep them secret: that these photos were supposed to have the status of a private, intimate exchange.

To send a sext is, basically, to objectify yourself, to make yourself into a porn object. Porn deals with a stereotyped, abstract sexuality; it is a question of organs, arousal, acts. Sexting has the same objectified language: it has the same focus on isolated organs, showing the penis or breasts without the face. Or it has the same stereotyped poses, pouting and sticking your bottom out; or the pre-fab lists of ‘sexy’ things to say.

So, on recieving a porn photo, it is not surprising that someone might pass it around their friends – have a laugh, post it online. It looks like a photo for general consumption; there is nothing intimate about it. To pass it around is the natural thing to do. It’s especially not suprising that young people do this, since at this age sexuality is largely a question of exploit and bragging to their peers, rather than of a close or trusting relation.

What is less natural is that sexting should be considered part of an intimate relation; that people should relate to one another through penis and breast shots.

Here, the sexual relation loses its quality of closeness, a private language and mutual sensuality. With sexting, the one-to-one relation is mediated through the exchange of photos and texts, through the production and consumption of images. The private sexted photo makes a gift out of your objectification (I did this for you) and also shows off (look at how big it is/how desirable I am). The other person then consumes this image.

The exchange of sexting occurs at a different pace and on a different plane to a real relation. In some cases, naked selfies are a prelude to a relationship: whereas once boys would want to touch a girl’s breasts (and brag about it to their friends) now they ask for a photo (and send it around). The photo is a prelude to, and temporary substitute for, someone else’s body. People relate through images before they relate through touching – some online daters make cyber sex a prelude to real sex.

As well as being more objectified, sexting is also a more privatised relation – it is the realm of private fantasy, the private relation between a person and the sex image. This means that sexting proceeds at the pace of fantasy rather than a real relationship. Women report that they meet someone nice and go to dinner – then, ‘bam’, receive a penis shot. It goes from talking, to penis shot, with nothing in between: ‘how am I supposed to respond?’ This isn’t the slow build-up of intimacies, but nor is it like jumping straight into bed with someone. Instead, the leap straight to the penis shot is a leap to the one-way offering – the objectified private fantasy.

One woman says that her ex-boyfriend broke up with her but keeps on sending filthy texts; he finished the relationship, and has no interest in seeing her, but continues sexting. Here, the person reading the texts is playing the role of mediator for someone’s private fantasy, a conversation he could be having in his head but is instead acting out through his phone.

So while most of the discussion is about young people sharing naked selfies online, this is actually the least significant aspect of sexting. What is more significant is its spread into intimate adult relations, such that intimacy starts to be mediated through the exchange of porn.


Microaggressions – fostering the alienated self

enhanced-buzz-1002-1386285201-29-2The current trend of identifying ‘micro-aggressions’ is not about social categories of exploitation or dominance. Nor is it just about personal touchiness or sensitivity. Instead, it is a prism through which social life and the world is experienced, as something set against and hostile towards the self.

This was shown in a perceptive satire of microaggressions by University of Michigan student, Omar Mahmood, in character as ‘womyn of color’. The satire captures how the experience of aggression structures every aspect of a person’s relations and environment. Even the falling snow: ‘The blistering cold did not turn my eyes from all the white privilege falling around me.’ The ‘womyn’ slipped over on to some steps and was approached by ‘a white cis-gendered hetero upper-class man’; she detected the ‘patronising sneer’ behind his words, ‘Cold, isn’t it?’; and when the man offered her his hand she observed ‘a manifestation of the patriarchy patronizing me’. In the end, the womyn realised that it was not about her colour but her left handedness (an awareness triggered by the cis-man’s comment, ‘I was just trying to do the right thing!’):

The right thing… The right thing… I became so aware at that moment of the left hand that I had thrust out before falling, and suddenly my humanity was reduced to my handydnyss. The words rang in my eardrums, and my blood throbbed.

The satire captures the arbitrary nature of the categories being employed. Categories such as ‘WOC/cis-male-hetero’ are detached from social structure: they do not represent groups or their relations, any more than does left-handedness or snow. Some of these categories are taken from past relations of inequality, but they exist as utterly transformed (which is why they use different terms and are described in an often unrecognisable jargon).

Instead, micro-aggressions represent the polarisation of everyday relations. The offer of a hand, or a consoling comment, is experienced as an act of hostility. In micro-aggressions, to be black, or female, or gay lacks much positive significance; there is little celebration of black or gay pride, or feminist sisterhood. The role of the category (of women, colour, handydnyss) is to give form to the feeling that social relations undo us, are aggressive. That others are set counter to us.

A glance, a question, the direction of someone’s gaze is experienced as a devaluation or an aggression for the individual. One Latino student complains about the way another student ‘noticed my Frida Khalo lighter and was more concerned about her appearance than the actual painting on it’, which was representative of ‘white supremacy at work’ and the exclipse of Mexican art by Eurocentric art. Another student complains that cashiers are not sufficiently cheery with them, perceiving a greater cheeriness with white people before and after them in the queue.

Often, the reality of the situation shines through: you can see the ‘aggressive’ person is just being curious, or making conversation, or making a guess, or a mistake. They ask why you don’t speak Spanish or whether you can read a Japanese character. They call you Jaime Garcia rather than Jaime Rodriguez. A person is offering you their hand and the gesture is transformed into an aggressive act, only because everyday sociality is experienced as a form of hostility.

It is sometimes the case that genuine acts of racism and sexism get called microaggressions, but these are in the minority. The essence of the category (which is why it has a new name) is the individual experience of dissonance with the world. This is why many of the complaints are highly subjective: you can sense a person’s upset and anger, but you cannot understand what the problem was. Why is it a problem that someone said ‘you do not look like the type of person that is interested in watching sports’? Why is this an invalidation?

Groups of all kinds are experienced as toxic, hostile, uncomfortable and painful, even those of one’s own identity category. One gay black woman complained that:

The queer community on this campus can be so incredibly toxic & policing, especially for womxn of color. Identifying as queer is such a hard experience on this campus because of all the heavy internalizations of queerphobia, but not feeling able to sit fully and comfortably with my qwoc self in queer/qpoc spaces is the most painful.

It is notable that the category of micro-aggression is authored by the victim. In effect, they are authoring the narrative of their own non-subjectivity, and the cis-hetero-male aggressor is constructed as a part in this narrative. The cis-man is holding his hands up, saying hey, I was only trying to help, I didn’t mean anything by it.

This means that the category of microaggression doesn’t only express the individual experience of dissonance with the world; it also actively fosters it. Experiencing the world in this way means that someone becomes attached to their alienated condition. A person starts to cultivate dissonance, to almost to revel in their non-identity with the world. The self becomes attached to the experience of alienation; it creates itself as alienated.

This new basis of identity is the reverse of the classical individual, who was based on the extent to which a person distinguished themselves. The personalities of ancient heroes were defined in the extent to which they left established boundaries, and went out seeking voyages, quests, ordeals. By contrast, the micro-aggressed self is defined in terms of what has been inflicted upon it. Therefore, they stake themselves upon their unfreedom, upon their object-character to the wills of others.

Yet of course, this is not an individual at all, but the eclipse of individuality. The same act that estranges the individual from the social, also estranges a person from themselves, from their individual abilities and qualities. Someone becomes not Carol or Jane, a specific individual with a specific inner life, but a ‘qwoc self’, with the self as a composite of queer-woman-of-colour-etc etc. As the satire put it: ‘Suddenly my humanity was reduced to my handydnyss’. Such a person is, at base, uncomfortable – with others, with themselves.

Therefore, the new phenomenon of micro-aggressions reflects neither exclusion nor oppression; nor is it merely the over-sensitivity of people who must be told to buck up. Instead, it reflects a new social structure; a new alienation in social relations, which is reaching into the most everyday encounters and people’s experience of their own personalities.

The solution can only be in combating these structures, and posing against them the truth and innocence of the everyday encounter, the person who is just offering you a hand up or asking about you because they are curious. We must also affirm the individual who is comfortable with themselves, who is not a category but a person, and who is not glowering and counting offences but throwing themselves into the curiousities and delights of our varied social world.

In defence of borders

blake-god-creating-the-universeEveryone is breaking down borders now. They are crossing lines, breaking down distinctions between academic disciplines or categories. Everything is trans this, inter- or multi- that. They are opening up things that had been closed, celebrating the virtues of visibility or transparency: buildings must have glass walls and open doors, offices must be open-plan. The virtues of the day are mixing, fusing, crossing.

Any kind of line draws objections: anything that says, ‘this is A, that is B, they are different’. There is no difference between men and women, art is not distinct from life, or life from art. Any category or line is an invitation for it to be challenged, questioned, overcome.

Many of the distinctions that were fundamental to the modern nation state are being broken down. In the eleventh century, church canon lawyers developed the distinctions between church law, state law, and personal morality. They drew lines. They said: this is a matter for the individual and their conscience; this is a religious offence and a matter for the church; this is a crime and a matter for the state (1). Thus the domains were established; the different arenas with their different actors were marked out. (This contrasts with primitive or tribal law, where everything is mixed up and crimes are listed alongside moral or religious offences or violations of etiquette.)

Now the state is deliberately crossing the line between law and morality, violating domains. Officials make laws about matters of etiquette: in several councils, it is now a crime to shout or swear or to be rude. The state is breaking down the distinction between law and life, between crime and rudeness, such that there is a general difusion of coercive instruments into the interstices of everyday life. When two categories blur in this way, both are lost.

The French philosopher Jean Baudrillard observed that social phenomena of many kinds are escaping their bounds, diffusing from their own domain into every other sphere. ‘Every individual category is subject to contamination, substitution is possible between any sphere and any other: there is a total confusion of types. Sex is no longer located in sex itself, but elsewhere – everywhere else, in fact’ (2). The same goes for sport, for art, for politics: everything else is aestheticised, politicised, sexualised, or sportified (turned into a sort of performance or contest). The spread of politics or art into every sphere was pursued as a progressive and heady act. People had jobs taking art practice into science or science into art. They had jobs putting cyber cafes in libraries or museums in cafes.

Yet how could we be so against the border per se? The first law, said Aristotle, is the law of non-contradiction: A is not-B. A man cannot be a man and not a man at the same time. Thought starts with the question of distinction, of drawing lines: of saying this is A, that is B, they are different. The Chinese categories of Yin and Yang separated the phenomena of the world into two polarised categories: male and female, hot and cold, wet and dry, active and passive, and so on, with elements of human character mixed up with physical forms in this drawing of an essential line. The Pythagoreans of ancient Greece traced all things to 10 oppositions, including finite and infinite, odd and even, good and evil, square and parallelogram.

An excellent book by the French philosopher Régis Debray, In Praise of Borders (3), stands against today’s blurring of categories. As he points out, the frontier was the basis of a community: Romulus’ act in the founding of Rome was to draw a line on the ground with a plough. A city is marked by its walls; a home by its threshold. Debray notes how the shapes of communities and the domains of social life have been marked out physically on the ground, with gates, walls, bridges, doors. A space such as a tomb is separated from the everyday; it is isolated and concentrated, made sacred and not profane.

It is the line that makes something itself and not something else: something has an essence, and an autonomy from other things. Many creation myths conceive of the moment of creation as one of separation: of separating day from night, the earth from the sky. In Greek myth, Kronos forced his father sky away from embrace with his mother earth: the sky fled upwards into the heavens. In Genesis, God divides the light from the darkness, the heavens from the waters, the waters from the land.

This can be seen even at the level of the molecular cell, says Debray. The cell exists because it has a membrane, which makes the distinction between inside and outside. Indeed, the progress of evolution draws a line more and more between inside and outside: to have a skin, to maintain one’s own body temperature, to bear one’s young inside one’s body, to feed them one’s own milk. The characteristic of a more developed organism is that they are more distinct from their environment: they are more autonomous, more self-regulating; they maintain themselves apart to a greater degree. The higher the level at which they exist, the sharper becomes the line between an organism and its environment.

Debray also makes the point that a distinction or a frontier is also a relation – it is not an absolute separation but a means of passage. The cell membrane, just as the city wall or river, are lines that provide a means of transport from one side to another. Indeed, it is because of the separation that there can be a relation: it is because of the division between states, or households, or cities, that these cities can have a hostile or friendly relation.

Having said all this: it is also the case that many of the best thinkers in the past sought to show the provisional nature of categories. This is the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus, with his statements that ‘hot and cold are the same’ and ‘wet and dry are the same’. But this meant not that these things are actually the same, but that they exist in a relation of opposition (hot is only hot in relation to cold); and also that they exist in a state of transition (things that are hot are becoming cold).

Hegel, who loved Heraclitus, sees every social form as existing as part of a totality: so morality, or law, or art, exist as elements of a social body, as interrelated, just as the leaves of a tree are related to the trunk and cannot be detached from it. Hegel also sees every form as existing as a moment in a process of transition, as a stage in a series. And yet he has not abolished categories or distinctions: the categories of the individual and state, morality and law remain cut out in sharp distinction from one another. He is showing the relations and transformations of distinct things.

Today, categories are being overcome not by universalism or revolutionary change: instead, lines are being crossed for the sake of it. Just as Isis is driving its bulldozers over the Syrian/Iraqi border, people are breaking down disciplinary boundary stones or crossing social spheres as an end in itself. They make a project out of the crossing of lines,  declaring lines null and void. We are left with formlessness and confusion. At base, this is making the process of intellectual and social corrosion into a virtue and a project.

(1) Law and Revolution, Harold J Berman, Volume 1, Harvard University Press, 1990

(2) The Transparency of Evil, Jean Baudrillard, 1990, p8

(3) Éloge des frontières, Régis Debray, Gallimard, 2010

Kicking babies off trains: the heartlessness of proceduralism

 A much-shared video shows a woman carrying a baby being denied a seat by first-class train passengers. An elderly lady had her bag on a seat; the mother asked her to move; an argument ensued and the other passengers joined in.

What was striking about the exchange was the absence of any humane or civic lines of reasoning – as in, here is an empty seat, here is a woman with a baby who needs to sit in it.

Instead, the dispute pitted various formal rules and procedures against one another. Some passengers insisted on the santity of first-class: the woman didn’t have a first-class ticket, therefore no rights to the seat. Other passengers said that they heard the train’s first class had been ‘declassified’, which means the woman now did have a right to sit in the seat. Finally, the mother herself noted that it was a ‘priority seat’, reserved for groups such as mothers with young children.

The question of right or wrong – and of our obligations towards one another – appears as a competing series of procedural rules. People on a train are as bubbles, surrounded by a forcefield, and their relations are only made possible by the pecking orders handed down from above. These procedures are not something we have made, apparently – there is no intuitive sense of everyday ethics – but something handed down, written on the train walls or announced over the microphones.

To be ‘civic’ today is often to care disproportionately about the correct enforcement of the rules. It is not the case that everyone is just sitting there and ignoring each other: they are policing, watching, comparing each other’s behaviour with that specified. Even if it doesn’t affect you then there is an impulse to survey and insist that procedures are correctly followed.

This can mean that the majority of a train carriage (on a train to Brighton!) can shout at a woman with a baby to leave what had been an empty seat. The public sphere can be a hostile place; you do not know how people will behave. Mothers with young children was one of those groups intuitively helped out, assisted, but now any ‘special treatment’ is only condoned if specified. You do not have to give up your seat unless you are in a specially marked ‘priority seat’: only in these seats do babies have a (quasi-legal) ‘priority’ over others.

The video ends when a man offers to give up his seat for the mother. Such acts of assistance are no longer the enacting of general civic assumptions and normal forms of comportment. Instead it is strangely touching, personal; an act of personal kindness, one-to-one. It is a moment that breaks through the proceduralism that has become our hollow civic virtue.

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