So, I had to write an essay for a course I'm doing. Here's a bit of it:
Show and tell or we’ll take it anyway
The 16th century philosopher, Jeremy Bentham, came up with a novel approach to surveillance in designing, ‘The Panopticon’. He conceived of a prison in which a single supervisor could see into any room at any time. The idea being that all the prisoners would become so paranoid they would behave themselves perfectly. Today, some citizens feel the inexorable approach of Big Brother so acutely, they have decided to monitor themselves by publishing their lives in full on the web - providing constant proof of their innocence.
In the Panopticon - literally meaning, ‘with a wide view’ - every action taken by an inmate was open to scrutiny by a lofty observer who remained hidden. In publishing their lives, todays self-monitoring citizens hide nothing; whether that is a photo of them walking their dog snapped quickly with their mobile phone, or a scan of the receipt from their trip to ‘The Gap’. Any agency who wanted to know what they were up to could check instantly and remain hidden.
But can we really compare those using ‘self-monitoring’ as citizen inmates? For one thing, in Mr Bentham’s prison, a key concept was the enforced separation of the prisoners. Today, while, perhaps, loneliness is still rampant, we cannot describe ourselves as isolated. Another key difference is the nature of information gathering: in the Panopticon, all the information was gathered automatically as the observer merely has to turn his or her attention to the inmate to see what they were doing. In contrast, those who engage with self-monitoring have to employ a deal of effort to keep the view of their lives continually in focus and up-to-date.
Given these two undesirable options, I would choose to publicize my own life, rather than have some unknown body follow me from the shadows. Why? Because, while it would be a pain to be continually annotating my life on the internet, I would retain some sense of control. I’d rather be open an honest than locked in some metaphorical version of a 16th century prison.
Just got back from helping out on a youth camp. Really good fun but I'm now totally knackered.
I'm reading a book: 'Tuesdays with Morrie'. Conversations between an much loved, dying professor of sociology and one of his former students. Conversations range over the scope of life and touch on just about all the deeper questions we have a humans. The book is famous and seems forever to be in promotional drives at Waterstone's, complete with its own little orange '3 for 2' sticker tucked into a corner of the front cover.
In one passage, Morrie talks about being more involved with living. He draws on a Buddhist philosophy about death,
"... Every day, have a little bird on your shoulder that asks, 'Is
today the day?' Am I ready? Am I doing all I need to do? Am I being the
person I want to be?"
Now, I'm not a Buddhist, but the idea that today might be my last day (and it really could be as it's pretty easy to get killed) is sobering and oddly inspiring. I don't have to worry about all the parifinallia of life that clammors for attention, and guilt is a non starter. Suddenly it's not about what I'm seen to be doing, but about who I really am in each moment. It's about the conversations I have with friends; it's about the small, unconquerable acts of kindness that can be quietly dropped into the lives of the people that I live and work with. It becomes a question of living each moment where I am, rather that gazzing at a hazzy future or soperfying my mind with a constant stream of media, or worrying about stuff, or just working through things that have to be done so that I can finish and put my feet up. The hard part is remembering to listen - as the familiar grooves of each day are easy and comfortable and I slot into them instantly upon waking.
I need to listen to that bird.
On holidays now for the next six weeks. Off down to my parents tomorrow to hang out in the country, walk the dog, eat fresh fruit and leave the city behind for a bit before heading off to do a youth camp for a week and a half. Thing is, now that the freneticism of school is over and I have time to lie-in and mooch about for a bit, I realize there are things to be done up here in the city. Hmm.
Good day hanging out with friends and pottering around doing stuff that needs to get done like washing and drinking coffee.
What is your best thing in the whole world? If you left everything else behind, walked out of your front door and headed out into the big open spaces of the rest of your life, what is the one thing that you would have to take with you? It can be a thing or a feeling or a reason for being. Anything that keeps you alive and real. What would it be?
Tea? Hope? Faith? Friends? Film? The Bible? Bob Marley? Toffee? Work? The poor? An old teddy bear? Your computer? A guitar? Family? These are mine and I’m trying to choose between them, but while I do so, there is thought in the back of my mind that tells me I should be writing something more profound.
Peace.
If I left today and headed away in to the wide-open spaces of tomorrow, leaving everything else behind, I would want to take peace with me.
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