In the latest issue of POLITICS, I have a short article that identifies six important theses with respect to targeted killing.
Targeted killing cannot be reduced to a single governing logic. Rather, it is important to map out how it is enabled by a constellation of logics (sovereign, disciplinary, biopolitical, and control) that converge in the practices of counter-insurgency.
Targeted killing is a form of lawfare that uses the law as a means of securing the extra-judicial killing of specific individuals. The problem is not that targeted killing violates the law from first principles. The problem is that targeted killing can work within the law, allowing for plausible--though not necessarily credible--legal justification for its commissioning.
Targeted killing is a visual practice shaped by epistemological and aesthetic realism. It is one of the latest tactics in the history of counter-insurgency to administer compulsary visibility over populations of interest.
Targeted killing is a form of spatial management. It draws attention to the influence of what the Royal Air Force has called 'control without occupation' as a form of territorial administration. Targeted killing also redefines everyday places that may be seen as sacred into theatres for counter-insurgency operations. Redefining places in order to permit targeted killing defiles them in ways that will have long-lasting political implications.
Targeted killing is a symbolic form of communication. Unlike orthodox forms of assassination, targeted killing expresses value judgements regarding the political illegitimacy of specific individuals rather than their political importance.
The resort to targeted killing in what Derek Gregory has referred to as the wars of the 'colonial present', reflects the ongoing failures of counter-insurgency and contemporary forms of geopolitical control.
These theses are serving as central provocations for the book project on targeted killing that I am contining to write. In some cases, entire chapters are being dedicated to exploring individual theses (e.g., lawfare, spatial management, symbolic communication). Others are serving as thematics that run through the analysis.
The article is available to freely download until the end of the July 2012. You can also email me for a copy.
Last week I was asked by Cinema Politica Newcastleto give a post-screening talk on copyfight after a showing of RIP: A Remix Manifesto. With the extreme weather, attendance suffered and thus a retreat to the pub for an informal conversation amongst a small dedicated group of cinephiles seemed more appropriate than delivering a formal presentation. But I thought it might be worth posting my remarks here.
What RIP: A Remix Manifesto does extremely well is show what becomes possible when changes in technology and accessibility are harnessed by human creativity to catalyse a shift from what Lawrence Lessig has called a ‘read only’ culture--where one is limited in the ways in which they can engage with artefacts--to a ‘read/write’ culture where the ways that we interact with our cultural worlds are bound primarily by the limits of our imagination.
And what the film also does extremely well is to point to the contemporary imbalance between property rights--for some property owners--on the one hand and creative expression, innovation, and common-sense on the other. If we operate on the basis that read/write cultures are something to be fostered because they stimulate innovation, development, and cultural vibrancy, Lawrence Lessig reminds us that this means embracing amateur creativity including placing limits of the reach of copyright regulation. The point is that creativity and innovation, forces that bring together elements of existing work in novel ways, requires leaving amateur creativity free from draconian forms of regulation that can stifle cultural expression and its social transmission. As the philosopher Henri Bergson argued, freedom itself is the ability to create the unforeseen, an ability that seems to me to be harnessed through our creative capacities.
Thus, at a time when one would think that creativity would be encouraged--after all, isn’t innovation the key to the knowledge economy?--it is actually being hemmed in by material constraints. These constraints are imposed by a legal regulatory system that has been designed to force a return to a read only culture of times past that probably only really ever existed in the imaginations of media company executives and Lars Ulrich from Metallica. So despite the human capacity for ingenuity, the presence of myriad technologies that are able to harness this capacity in exciting new ways, and the potential for these to combine to create cultural products and artefacts with positive social potential, we instead have a system that produces:
legions of copyright trolls who extort money from the unsuspecting public by threatening lawsuits based on allegations of minor infringements;
terms and conditions for items that one purchases that exceed the length of some of Shakespeare’s greatest works;
channels of distribution for cultural products that attempt to create artificial scarcity;
and proprietary systems and digital rights management that limit choice and innovation by attempting to circumvent the research and development powers of the crowd that arise through modifications, home brewing, and hacking.
So the question for me then is how can we position the contemporary pathology historically? One place to start is by turning to the work of noted economic historian Karl Polanyi and his classic text The Great Transformation. Although first published in 1944, it provides excellent insight into the contemporary imbalance between markets and property rights on the one hand and society and the public interest on the other.
Polanyi argued that for most of human history, markets--those places where distribution and exchange took place literally and figuratively--were embedded into societies. In part, this meant that they were a means to dispose of surplus and regulated in ways--sometimes formally, sometimes through cultural custom--such that their most potentially deleterious effects could be mitigated. But beginning with the rise of capitalism in Europe, he argued markets began to be understood as self-regulating entities. The policy prescription therefore was to treat markets as a separate entity apart from both society and from politics (i.e., markets had their own technical logics and natural tendencies that one must adhere to or suffer the consequences). This change in governing logic meant that satisfying markets, not society, became a primary focus for government. Yet, so-called ‘free markets’ require inordinate amounts of legislation, rules, and laws in order to ‘self-regulate’.
So the dis-embedding of markets necessary for capitalism wasn’t a project that could arise spontaneously. It required a strong state to intervene in order to impose market logics onto societies that regulated themselves through a different form of moral economy. Moreover, the state was needed in order to enforce new property regimes. Paradoxically, the initial success of this project turned into its biggest failure. As Polanyi documents, the effects of the transformationto market dominated socieities were so socially corrosive that the state and other institutions had to intervene almost immediately to mitigate the devastation that ensued. He referred to this oscillation as the double movement.
Unfortunately, over the past four decades, most societies have completely forgotten the lessons outlined in the Great Transformation about the importance of protecting social and cultural institutions in the wake of markets. While one might want to argue that markets have produced historically high levels of wealth overall, the intellectual property rights underpinning copyright and the forms of lawfare associated with them have become a way of embedding the material privileges of the wealthy (e.g., large media conglomerates, big pharma, big tech, big food), sustaining business models that would otherwise be unviable, and encouraging unproductive forms of rentierism as opposed to innovation and development. And as we are experiencing first hand, this comes with significant social and cultural costs that are borne by the general public, much like those Polanyi documented in the late 18th and 19th centuries.
On a final note, the next time you hear a media company stooge, vacuous politician, or Lars from Metallica harping on about the negative consequences of file-sharing, limited copyright provisions, remixing, sharing , hacking, home-brewing, or making, look at how their arguments are structured. The appeal is always through notions of private property, revenue losses, the need for economic incentivization, and spurious analogies--for example, that file sharing is like stealing from a shop--that reinforce the idea that culture should be subordinate to market logics. It then follows that if culture refuses to be subordinate, the state must implement, by any means necessary, measures to ensure that specific market principles (i.e., property rights) dominate. They never present arguments that show the cultural or social benefits of constraining amateur creativity or forms of innovation that arise by limiting the collective ingenuity that can develop through crowd sourcing. This is because they don’t have any. Moreover, the idea that someone might design, code, tinker, write, or rock out because they see creative expression as a fundamental part of the human condition to be experienced, enjoyed, and SHARED regardless of the potential market benefits that might accrue by artificially creating scarcity is completely alien to them. Thus, the problem is more broadly based than the particulars of copyfight itself. It requires finding the means and measures of catalysing the social protections against the marketization of everyday life that are so desperately needed.
