The Unpopular Mainstream

One interesting dichotomy structuring many sorts of value judgements is that of the “mainstream” versus the “fringe.” I love it. Not only is this another excellent example of linguistic categories – language as action as opposed to representation – but the power plays and strategies entailed by the use of these terms can be absolutely fascinating to observe.

I don’t think it is particularly earth-shattering to suggest that the “fringe” label is often used to imply that an idea or thing so attributed is more unique and creative, and somehow more in tune with “the truth” – whether that be theoretically or as a subjective understanding of human experience – than the brainwashed, whitewashed mainstream. This fits with the “sanctity of the individual” perspective that is the hallmark of liberalism. People working on their own, in competition with others, in opposition to the common, will necessary create a better, more enlightened product.

Nowhere has this been better assimilated and exploited than among the youths. There, one sees the perennial cycling between the fringe and mainstream: what was fringe becomes cool… until too many people catch on, at which point it goes out of style and lays dormant until it is once again obscure enough to be appropriated by the fringe. Not to get too deterministically economic in this post, but that is a great mechanism for driving the cycles of consumption so necessary in the late capitalist era. See style.

It is a food chain. The hipsters emulate the ignored and forgotten; the popular crowd emulates the hipsters; everyone else emulates the popular crowd; and, eventually, grandma emulates everyone else. And the hipsters emulate grandma. Of course, everyone has different opinions about what is cool and what is mainstream. One person may be proud of the indie band they discovered in a movie soundtrack, while someone else will deride the band for gaining so much exposure. And then there is the constant fear that the great new band that one discovered will “sell out.”

This goes beyond pop culture. In politics, it is common to try to paint oneself as a “maverick” while portraying one’s opponent as a “Washington insider.” No one likes “the establishment.” Everyone dreams about their independent-in-shining-armor, born on the edge of society in a no-name town, emerging with integrity intact, to transform the entire political system. True, this does, in part, stem from the idea that the people currently occupying offices are visibly incompetent, dishonest, and corrupt… but we are committed to the idea that it is somehow being part of the establishment – as a personal trait – that entails mediocrity, and nothing about the structure of the establishment itself (in which case it would not matter which individuals populate it).

I should not leave out academia either, although my discussion is by no means exhaustive. Scholars scramble over each other to be part of the “fringe.” This is particularly true in the critical social sciences and humanities. In this case the “mainstream” schools of thought are associated with forces of dominance – patriarchy, the bourgeoisie, etc. The academic version of coolness is to be “marginal” and speak for (oh, no, wait, I mean “with,” I swear I totally meant to say “with”!) the oppressed. There is nothing necessarily objectionable with that sentiment in and of itself, except that it is often a superficiality which masks the general maintenance of status quo and reluctance to take real radical action. People often attempt to fashion “fringe” viewpoints without addressing the foundations of disciplinary thought, in attempt to gain a certain sort of authority or following (rather than withering in the shadows of the hot-shots). This makes me wonder whether the valorization of “marginality” really emerges from a revolutionary disposition or merely represents the transplantation of “hipsterism” into the university setting.

As for me, I don’t care where I am, so long as I have a good view.

A Critical Analysis of "Art"

I think I have an arts series going on now. Expect at least one more post, about music.

"Art" is another one of those things that I consider to be merely a category rather than an independently real object (see religion). The reality is quite simple, actually: people make things and people do things. These things may be useful or not, valued or not, pleasing or not, novel or not. Probably most of these characteristics exist on a spectrum and depend, of course, on context. Hence, they are relative.

The application of the term "art" to certain crafts and activities has been entwined with other socially meaningful divisions, and a more detailed genealogy of the term than I can provide might illuminate the history of its meaning and function more fully. Loosely, though, it helped to demaracate the domains of the sacred and profane, and then to differentiate between the productions of the educated uppercrust and those of the ignorant masses (labeled, in contrast, "folklore").

Through its contemporary usage, "art" has been universalized and tied to the concept of human subjectivity (as an "individual expression"). This is no surprise, given the universalizing tendencies of "modernity" (as discourse and project), as well as the central role played by the idea of the subject in modern social formations.

There have been plenty Marxist analyses of art. For example, noting the way in which different aesthetics contribute to the rigidity of the class hierarchy. Also the way in which art patronage provides a safe outlet for capital which may not be profitably invested (the Medicis, e.g.), and thereby maintaining some systemic stability. I do think these points are extremely useful and worth keeping in mind. However, I am more interested in the way in which art functions both in the discourses and social/institutional structures constituting "modernity," as a means of objectifying individual subjectivity and notions of "culture."

Once objectified, subjectivity/culture may enter the capitalist market as a commodity (and art forms of various sorts do seem to be the primary way in which individual and collective subjectivities are commodified). The transformation of individual subjectivity into a form of "property" provides the rhetorical material with which the legal basis for monopolies (copyright law) is constructed.

Even when subjectivity objectified does not enter into any market relations, it may still have market value.

But most importantly, it is venerated as a sacred, powerful artifact. Because subjectivity is conceived as the mysterious key to human knowledge of the world and our own condition, art allows us the possibility of understanding our own history, diversity, and motivations. Paradoxically, it fulfills our almost technocratic urge to rationalize every aspect of human life, in an effort to control and improve.

As a result of both this preoccupation and the dynamics of capitalist production, "style" becomes eminently important and an object of ceaseless contemplation (generally leading one to consider how certain individuals developed new styles, or how one style emerged out of another). Usually, narratives of style take an evolutionary form and buttress the ideology of progress (even when, contradictorily, some room for arbitrariness is allowed). And of course, the succession of styles feeds into the capitalist need for constant novelty and osbolescence.

All of this to say: art is another thing that emerged as an integrated whole, though in manifold and complex ways, with the other processes and institutions associated with modernity. It is a piece of modernity, or rather, multiple pieces (as it is not a single thing): a byproduct of the concept of subjectivity; an expression of particular subjectivities; a tool of governmental/reformist impulses; a form of economic value; and a means of reinforcing particular ideas/discourses, to name a few.

No sense in trying to define it. More fun in seeing how it works in practice.

Myth #4: Diseases are Discrete Entities

Modern medical practice is essentially built upon the idea that deviance comes in discrete packages ("disease," "infection," "disorder," "syndrome," etc.). This leaves the following tasks for medical researchers and health practitioners:

1. Refine the definition of the deviance-entity; draw sharper boundaries.
2. Improve the process by which it can be recognized according to its symptoms.
3. Identify the cause(s).
4. Discover potential treatments.

If a patience presents a heretofore unencountered set of symptoms, medical professionals immediately attempt to determine "what" this person "has," and isolate the essence of this newly discovered entity.

This regimen has produced two major tendencies:
1. The proliferation of diseases and disorders. As new realities are encountered, new entities are devised to account for them. Additionally, new diseases mean new research programs, new grants, more journal articles, more conferences, different ways to market treatments: in effect, more ways to circulate capital and sustain the work of those in R&D fields.

2. Growing prevalance of certain diseases. In part, this occurs when new experiences are not separated into new disease categories, forcing already existing ones to expand. And in part, this results from the pathologizing of characteristics that were previously viewed in a different light. Once again, from an economic standpoint, escalating rates of disease mean expanded investment in research and increased markets for treatments.

This is not to say, of course, that capital investments are the only (or even most important) driving force behind these tendencies, or that the medical establishment does not accept these premises concerning the nature of disease with all intellectual sincerity.

However, this does highlight the way in which our propensity to view health in terms of discrete, material entities is shaped by a capitalist organization of social institutions (including those related to medical research and public health), in which capital investments are discretely categorized and allocated according to quantifiable outcomes; goals and results are measured in terms of material inputs; and individual human bodies serve as the primary site of intervention (as opposed to integrated social processes).

This all occurs in the face of one undeniable fact: it is really hard to define diseases in such a way that they may be sustained as discrete entities. In actuality, we don't discover diseases; they are not just sitting there, waiting for us to learn of their existence. We create diseases, disorders, syndromes, etc. Faced with a complex and variable reality, we impose categories upon our experience in order to simplify and more easily understand it. Oftentimes definitions of diseases are based more upon history and accident than on any coherent set of principles. Furthermore, a single disease may present such widely varying symptoms that any two people may experience it in entirely different ways, and the causes may be multiple or unknown. (Autism is a great example.) Why, then, should it be considered a single "thing"? Still, we proceed as though the categories that we have created have an essence and an existence all of their own, and our task is to simply discover what that essence is.

There are significant social and political implications as to what behaviors and conditions become pathologized (or de-pathologized, in the case of the removal of "homosexuality" as a psychiatric disorder). What we see as a "problem" is deeply socially embedded. It should also be noted that the creation of "problems" is, in itself, a strategy that is employed by dominant forces to mobilize social and political resources, as well as capital flows, in the service their own agenda. Not that every new disease is a conscious and strategic creation of a conspiring economic elite, but one should be aware of the way in which this generalized (and non-uniformally applied) strategy can be employed in the domain of health.