(Source : 
http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/2011/may/06/adam-curtis-computers-documentary
)

In 1991, a computer engineer from California called Loren Carpenter
organised a mass experiment in a huge shed. Hundreds of people were
each given a paddle, and told nothing. But on a big screen in front of
them was projected a game of Pong – a very basic computer game, where
a ball is knocked back and forth on a screen, like table tennis. Each
half of the audience jointly controlled the bat on their side of the
screen; they had to operate it together and, spontaneously and without
discussion, they successfully played a game of Pong, whooping and
cheering at their collective collaboration.

"It was like a switch went in my head," Curtis says. "Carpenter saw it
as a world of freedom with order. But I suddenly saw it as the
opposite – like old film of workers toiling in a factory. They weren't
free – they looked like disempowered slaves locked to a giant machine
screen. It was a video game, which made it fun, but it still made me
wonder whether power had really gone away in these self-organising
systems, or if it was just a rebranding. So we became happy components
in systems – and our job is to make those systems stable."
...
Now he has moved on to machines, but it starts with nature. "In the
1960s, an idea penetrated deep into the public imagination that nature
is a self-regulating ecosystem, there is a natural order," Curtis
says. "The trouble is, it's not true – as many ecologists have shown,
nature is never stable, it's always changing. But the idea took root
and spread wider – people started to believe there is an underlying
order to the entire world, to how society is structured. Everything
became part of a system, like a computer; no more hierarchies, freedom
for all, no class, no nation states." What the series shows is how
this idea spread into the heart of the modern world, from internet
utopianism and dreams of democracy without leaders to visions of a new
kind of stable global capitalism run by computers. But we have paid a
price for this: without realising it we, and our leaders, have given
up the old progressive dreams of changing the world and instead become
like managers – seeing ourselves as components in a system, and
believing our duty is to help that system balance itself. Indeed,
Curtis says, "The underlying aim of the series is to make people aware
that this has happened – and to try to recapture the optimistic
potential of politics to change the world."

The counterculture of the 1960s, the Californian hippies, took up the
idea of the network society because they were disillusioned with
politics and believed this alternative way of ordering the world was
based on some natural order. So they formed communes that were
non-hierarchical and self-regulating, disdaining politics and
rejecting alliances. (Many of these hippy dropouts later took these
ideas mainstream: they became the Silicon Valley entrepreneurs who
decided that computers could liberate everyone and save the world.
...
At first, the vision that machines had created a new stability seemed
true. On Greenspan's watch, computers allowed investment banks to
produce complex mathematical models that could predict the risk of
making any loan or investment. If a risk could be predicted, it could
be balanced by hedging against it. Hence, stability. There would be no
more boom and bust. It was the "new economy".

That stability was, of course, an illusion; it was followed by the
greatest economic crash since 1929. But, as Curtis says, the price of
the bailouts was paid by ordinary people, via the state, rather than
by the wealthy financiers who lost all the money in the first place.
That's because, despite the illusion of ordered non-hierarchy, some
people have vastly more power than others, and in many cases have had
it for centuries.

He draws a parallel with those 1970s communes. "The experiments with
them all failed, and quickly. What tore them apart was the very thing
that was supposed to have been banished: power. Some people were more
free than others – strong personalities dominated the weak, but the
rules didn't allow any organised opposition to the suppression because
that would be politics." As in the commune, so in the world: "These
are the limitations of the self-organising system: it cannot deal with
politics and power. And now we're all disillusioned with politics, and
this machine-organising principle has risen up to be the ideology of
our age."

If you are a component in the system, it is difficult to see how power
has shifted, Curtis says. "The power of politicians has been taken by
others, by financial institutions, corporations. After the crash, the
elite used politicised power to rescue themselves. Politics was seen
to have failed, to have been corrupt, empty."
...
'We're all a bit shit but that's OK.' We have no grand dreams. So of
course we embrace a nice stable order."

Why don't we have big ideas or dreams any more? "Because now that
there's nothing more important than you, how can you ever lose
yourself in a grander idea? We're frightened of eccentricity, of
loneliness. Individualism just wants to keep the machine stable, leads
to a static world and a powerless world. Rand is individualism carried
to its most extreme form, yet she's very popular, and not that far
away from how a lot of people, especially the young, feel today."

All of this, Curtis says, means we're missing the bigger picture. "We
never talk about power these days. We think we live in a
non-hierarchical world, and we pretend not to be elitist now – which
is, of course, an emotionally attractive idea, but it's just not true.
And that's dangerous."

He believes that because British politics is now obliged to appear
non-hierarchical, it has become managerialist, obsessed with process
over vision – a recognisable idea to anyone who lives in this
triangulated, professionalised political age. He says this doesn't
just affect the political parties (although he singles out Andrew
Lansley as managerialist-in-chief), but politics in its widest sense.
"Even the 'march against the cuts'," he says, referring to the TUC
march in London in March, "it was a noble thing, but it was still a
managerial approach. We mustn't cut this, we can't cut that. Not,
'There is another way.' Why are we so frightened of a few bond
managers? Why can't we challenge the 'markets'? Why do we treat them
as if they're their own precious ecosystem? The idea of proper change,
or really shifting things, is alien to us today. We just argue about
how to manage a system best. It's a moment of high decadence. And
we've forgotten that we do have deep responsibilities to people who
really are powerless." (He has fascinating material on this about the
west's interventions in Congo, as "a place that generates different
kinds of myths about us as human beings, things that the west longs
for but that also make us terrified".)

In his films, Curtis draws on recent attempts to overthrow power in
autocratic countries, describing the spontaneous revolutions in
Georgia, Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan as a "triumph of the visions of
computer utopians of the 1960s, with their vision of computers
allowing individuals to create new, non-hierarchical societies" – just
like in that mass game of Pong. "The internet played a key role in
guiding revolutions that had no guiding ideology, except a desire for
self-determination and freedom." But the desire for freedom itself was
not enough, he says. "In all those revolutions, that sense of freedom
lasted only for a moment. The people were brilliant at overturning the
power – but then what? Democracy needs proper politics, but people
have given up on saying that they're going to change the world." The
Arab uprisings began after he finished making the films, but he sees
these in the same way. "It's as if these people assembled
spontaneously on Twitter and they just want freedom. But what kind of
society do they want?"

He does not deny that Twitter and Facebook had some impact – at least
organisationally. But he has strong views on social networking for
anything beyond straightforward organisation; he considers the sharing
of emotions online to be the "Soviet realism of the age".
...
Where will the next big idea come from? He wonders about China. "Is it
a stable system? Or a mercantilist economy that's gone too far?" Or
closer to home. "If things go really bad, they change. If things get
really bad, they say, can we have a dramatically different, better
kind of society?"

Since the modern world is all about me, me, me, here's a confession:
Curtis's ideas have made me run for my life. In 2009, in the course of
It Felt Like A Kiss, the sublime theatre event Curtis put on with
Punchdrunk about the birth of hyper-consumerism, I was separated from
the audience and sent down a long, dark corridor, which I took to
represent the apotheosis of individualism. I remember thinking, I must
run because my life depends on it – I knew it wasn't real, but I
couldn't help myself. It was terrifying. The ideas in All Watched Over
By Machines Of Loving Grace are similarly mesmerising and disturbing,
but they're also a provocation: have we really given up on the hope of
changing the world in our lifetimes? Or is that in itself an idea
worth fighting for?
_________

Videos (Recommended Viewing)

So Pandora's Box (1992, about how politicians had tried to use
scientific ideas to control society)
http://www.archive.org/details/AdamCurtis_PandorasBox


The Mayfair Set, (1999, about how entrepreneurs such as James
Goldsmith paved the way for the resurgence of the markets)
http://www.archive.org/details/AdamCurtis_TheMayfairSet


The Century Of The Self, (2002, looked at how Freud's theories of the
unconscious were used to promote shopping from necessity to leisure
activity)
http://www.archive.org/details/AdaCurtisCenturyoftheSelf_0

The Power Of Nightmares ( 2005, was about how politicians were turning
to fear to try to restore their waning influence in a society
disillusioned with them)
http://www.archive.org/details/ThePowerOfNightmares

---------

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