Weekend reading – much of issue 3 online

Most of the forthcoming issue 3 is now available online in the forthcoming section of the journal (requires subscription).

 

Concrete multivalence: practising representation in bunkerology  Luke Bennett

‘Knowing’, absence, and presence: the spatial and temporal depth of relations  Cathrine Degnen

Plastic eternities and the mosaic of landscape  Chris Van Dyke

Dismantling the face: landscape for another politics?  Jenny Edkins (listen also to the interview with Jenny on this site)

Saving Japantown, serving the people: the scalar politics of the Asian American Movement  Clement Lai

Going with the flow: sustainable water management as ontological cleaving  Stephanie Lavau

Repopulating the emptiness: a spatial critique of ruination in Israel/Palestine  Noam Leshem

“Security here is not safe”: violence, punishment, and space in the contemporary US penitentiary  Karen M Morin

Property ownership, resource use, and the ‘gift of nature’  Neil Ravenscroft, Andrew Church, Paul Gilchrist, Belinda Heys

Rhizomic radicalism and arborescent advocacy: a Deleuzo-Guattarian reading of rural protest  Michael Woods, Jon Anderson, Steven Guilbert, Suzie Watkin

Antipode Forum on Pratt’s Families Apart


Antipode has posted a forum on Gerry Pratt’s latest book Families Apart on their open site.

See also the interview with Gerry about the book that was posted on our open site here last year.

Elizabeth Grosz interview at Interstitial journal

Elizabeth Grosz is interviewed in the new Interstitial journal.

Last year’s AAG conference saw a discussion between Kathryn Yusoff, Nigel Clark, Arun Saldanha, Catherine Nash, and Elizabeth Grosz on her work, especially Chaos, Territory, Art: Deleuze and the Framing of the Earth. An audio recording is available on this site, and a reworked version of the discussion later appeared in the journal (requires subscription). Her books The Nick of Time and Time Travels were also chosen by Society and Space editorial board member Kathryn Yusoff as her books of the decade.

Lauren Berlant – Desire/Love

Given the interest in the interview with Lauren Berlant, it’s worth noting that her book Desire/Love is available as a free download or print-on-demand from the innovative publisher Punctum Books.

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Interview with Lauren Berlant

Lauren Berlant, George M. Pullman Professor of English at the University of Chicago, has generated a path-breaking body of scholarship that has opened up and reinvigorated interdisciplinary conversations about citizenship, sex, law and neoliberalism for over two decades.

David Seitz, a Toronto-based writer and Ph.D. candidate in human geography and women’s and gender studies at the University of Toronto, recently interviewed Berlant about her take on contemporary queer and austerity politics, the political implications of powerful new book Cruel Optimism, and the insights of queer theory for the present. A shorter version of this interview recently appeared in Toronto Xtra! The full version is presented here.

DS: We have this commonsense understanding of citizenship as legally, juridically endowed. You’re also interested in the murky, the intimate and the banal dimensions of citizenship. And they’re obviously not unrelated. What first oriented you in that direction? What got you so curious about intimate life as a scene of citizenship drama?

LB: I was always interested in the relationship between law and subjectivity. As I was coming out, nobody was working on citizenship as a vehicle for world-building that had anything to do with sexuality, except allegorically. What really interested me was the relationship between conventional form and erotic attachment — people’s relation to the world, people’s need for the world to look a certain way. So I got interested in the history of the law’s orchestration of bodies, and I got interested in thinking about the ways that certain kinds of institutional forms held up the world, with respect to which people in everyday life were extremely incoherent. The same people can be authoritarian, libertarian, aggressive, passive, romantic, and unsentimental about citizenship: and then I realized that the same sentence could be written about love and attachment. I realized that the juridical object and the intimate object were more similar than they were different, because people want their objects to protect them, but they don’t want them too over-present. They want them to be transparent, but they want also to have them to be flexible and improvisatory. People make contradictory demands of the objects that hold up their world. That interests me. That’s the first thing.

The second thing is I really do want to understand how to work with political incoherence, and I am irritated by the kinds of arguments that people use about certain kinds of voting blocs voting against their interests, since everyone has conflicting interests. For example, I could love the state because it delivers resources to a whole set of people not really caring about the specificities of who those people are, and I could hate the state because it tries to produce universal citizenship. Those two conflicting thoughts don’t make me psychotic: contradiction enables people to proceed wanting a whole set of things from their institution or from their object.

Also, if you work on political emotions, one of the things you have to deal with all the time is the pedagogy of emotion. Aesthetics is one of the few places we learn to recognize our emotions as trained and not natural. Fear is natural, but the objects that make you afraid emerge historically. You get entrained by the world. When you’re born, all you want is food, and by the time you’re eight, or by the time you’ve been in primary school for awhile, or whatever, you have feelings about citizenship, you have feelings about race, you have feelings about gender and sexuality. You’ve been trained to take on those objects as world-sustaining perspectives. That interests me. So for you, what looked like a conflict between institutional attachment to the world and intimate models of attachment are not to me in conflict at all but are a part of the problem of imagining and living attachments to lifeworlds.

When it comes to LGBTQ politics, the first thing after my first book that I wrote on citizenship was “Queer Nationality,” (with Elizabeth Freeman), an essay about the incredibly contradictory attachments queers have had to the nation form. The nation form is a saviour and the nation form is a threat. That doesn’t seem to me to be the sign that people haven’t figured out their politics yet, it’s that the state is a resource as well as a site of domination. Being able to think about the banality of contradiction is a really important scene for thinking LGBTQ politics.

DS: You’ve had some hilarious and trenchant takes on the state of U.S. electoral politics. During the 2012 presidential campaign, you summed up a vote for Obama as “he sucks less bad” — on issues ranging from economic justice to U.S. imperialism. What do you make of Obama’s inaugural remarks on same-sex marriage, and of the second Obama term more broadly?

LB: It has always seemed to me that Obama’s refusal to support LGBTQ politics was a concession to what he felt were the more conservative sides of his support. I didn’t think he believed it. I thought it was cowardly, and so when he finally decided that it was time for him to placate his disappointed his liberal supporters by admitting an opinion I’m sure he’d always had, I didn’t jump up and down with glee.

Inclusion really matters. Him saying Stonewall was a part of American liberation history matters. His support for “our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters” matters. But I also feel very strongly that he allowed himself to say what he already felt as a way of distracting attention from progressive attention to many other vicious economic and military practices his administration promotes. I have a lot of anger about the neoliberal/progressive politics management that gives social issues lots of privilege but really doesn’t care about economic justice, or the brutality of War on Terror. All the LGBTQ inclusion in the world speaks nothing to the incredibly devastating military policy that he has pursued on behalf of “peace and democracy.”

Eve Sedgwick, in Epistemology of the Closet, talked about the “pincers movement” of progress: one step forward, one step back, that’s how a crab walks. Obama is a very good example of this. It’s a cowardly politics, and yet in the context of American conservatism, standing for reproductive rights and the right of LGBTQ people to live the normative life protected by the law is not that cowardly. In that regard, the relationship between democracy and antidemocracy remains extremely stressful.

DS: Your devastating, powerful book Cruel Optimism explores scenes in which subjects desire (and seem unable to countenance not desiring) conditions, political and intimate futures that undermine the possibility of their flourishing. Are there political movements or experiments in dependency and non-sovereignty, in your words, that you look to optimistically — on terms that feel or look less “cruel”? A relation of cruel optimism is a double-bind, as we were saying in our discussion of the nation form.

LB: A relation of cruel optimism is a double-bind in which your attachment to an object sustains you in life at the same time as that object is actually a threat to your flourishing. So you can’t say that there are objects that have the quality of cruelty or not cruelty, it’s how you have the relationship to them. Like it might be that being in a couple is not a relation of cruel optimism for you, because being in a couple actually makes you feel like you have a grounding in the world, whereas for other people, being in a couple might be, on the one hand, a relief from loneliness, and on he other hand, the overpresence of one person who has to bear the burden of satisfying all your needs. So it’s not the object that’s the problem, but how we learn to be in relation.

All political movements in this regard are complicated spaces where the courageous insistence on interrupting the reproduction of toxic normativity is a relief from resignation to life. But every movement that we’ve ever been in reproduces issues of inequality around race, gender, sexuality and education, along with the inevitable personality glitches. That also can be devastating. So that’s why I’m interested in thinking about politics as comic, because if we understand that everything we do is going to be flawed and awkward and slapstick, we have a better chance at surviving our disappointments on behalf of a longer political goal.

So I’m interested in all the neo-anarchisms. I’m still interested in queer and feminist politics, too, because I think everything that’s disappointing is accompanied by forms of refusal to be resigned to normative fantasy. And I do think it’s the job of writers and critics and artists and everyone to create better objects for better fantasies — which is to say objects that offer the possibility of less cruel-optimistic relations.

One great development in LGBTQ politics over the last decade has been the claim that social policy should rely on relations of care rather than institutional relations, like of marriage and family, to help to distribute resources for the flourishing of life. So one of my students said, in response, “I could marry my grandmother.” What he meant was not that he wanted to marry his grandmother as opposed to other intimate relations, but that for him, her care of him gave him an obligation to care for her, and he now saw that as a part of a queer politics. Thinking about what it means to see relations of care as the source for new social relations that would have policy implications is a really great development in LGBTQ politics from all sorts of perspectives. But I think that has to be accompanied by different kinds of cultural activity and different forms of fantasy about what it means to understand collective life as a problem of survival.

DS: Your work has some challenging implications and questions for LGBT movements — but not always or only the predictable ones. Queer critics in the U.S. and Canada are often abuzz about the violence and exclusivity of a focus on marriage, property rights, bourgeois domesticity, etc. In Cruel Optimism, you’re curious about normativity — certainly not because you’re unwilling to challenge or interrupt it, but because you want to understand aspirations to and desires for the forms of belonging, reciprocity and kinship that normative citizenship is imagined to entail. Where does this leave queer critiques of normativity? What are the political implications of the kind of careful analysis of normativity you stage?

LB: This goes to your question about citizenship, too. When I first started working on citizenship, older people would say to me, “How can you even take the state seriously? The state is a monster of imperialism.” And I said, “I’m on the side of people’s survival, and if people’s optimism is attached to things like the state, I want to know what the state stands in for.” If we start seeing our objects of ambition and desire as stand-ins, as things that organize our attachment to life, we have a totally different understanding and a kind of generosity toward those objects. That’s why I started working on citizenship in the first place, not because I loved it, but because I saw that people saw it as a state where they could imagine being collective, and being willing to be collective in ways that were also inconvenient for them.

So when LGBTQ people want what lots of people want — which is a relief from their loneliness and a social world that would be welcoming and not shaming — I can’t disrespect their objects, I just have to say, “is that all there is?” For me, it’s never about shaming people’s objects, it’s always about creating better and better objects. It’s always about creating better worlds, making it possible for us to think in more and different kinds of ways about how we relationally can move through life.

Do you agree?

DS: I do agree! To actually pluralize our objects…

LB: More and more and more. I never want someone to talk less in class, I want everyone to talk more. I never want less fantasy, I always want more. I never want less citizenship, I always want more. More different ways of being in relation. And then we struggle it out, because we struggle with the ways in which they’re incommensurate. But there’s no reason to have more shame around what people want.

One of the ways that I am so fundamentally motivated as a queer scholar is my absolute commitment to eradicating erotophobia — thinking of sex as a threat to happiness, thinking of the appetites as a threat to sociality, when there is no sociality without them. People learn to think of their appetites as threats. I’m interested always in just better objects, because I think if there’s less erotophobia, there would be less sexual violence, there would be more of a sense that bodies and pleasures really can be the source of a genuinely flourishing sociality. But it will take much reeducation to think about other people as vehicles to happiness rather than a threat.

DS: You’ve spent a fair bit of time outside the U.S., and Cruel Optimism’s framing is explicitly transnational. Do you have any insights on the Canadian queer political scene — as opposed or in relation to that in the U.S.?

LB: I still don’t, no. I feel like I have to study a place for a really, really long time before I can say anything about it.

You are undergoing neoliberal austerity politics here, and the defunding of education, and the dismantling of welfare state here, as are many of the places that I study in Cruel Optimism. I have an interview in Variant magazine where I ask, “If the question of the 19th century in the U.S. and in many places is the problem of the colour line, as DuBois writes, “what does it mean to be a problem?”– the problem of contemporary austerity politics comes from the state saying that the public is itself a problem, too expensive to be borne by the state that represents it.

I think there’s a lot of wealth in world, and the privatization of wealth has been a desperate bad, ploy to redistribute income from ordinary people to the wealthy, and austerity politics maintains that. I think it’s immoral, and people have to struggle against it.

But it also means that they have to retool their fantasies of the good life. If your fantasy of the good life was to have infinitely more things, then austerity politics uses you of an example of an undisciplined appetite. If we recognize that wealth needs to be distributed, that everyone should have a shot at a good life, that also means that people’s fantasy of having an infinite cushion, especially an infinite credit cushion, has to be rethought. That’s part of what social theory and art has to do, is to say, what is a good life? And how do we go about making institutions and imaginaries that support it?

So these questions are really central to transformations in Canadian politics right now, in a way that resonates with things that have been going on in Europe since the 90s.

DS: What would you say makes your work queer now?

LB: That there have been venues that really understood how this book could not have existed without queer theory feels really important, gratifying, and moving to me. Only two of the chapters of Cruel Optimism — three if you count the introduction — are manifestly about LGBTQ material. Cruel Optimism was one of the two award winners for the Alan Bray prize in LGBTQ literature at the Modern Language Association this year. I was very moved by that.

The reason I think that that happened is because queer theory is fundamentally about not presuming your object but understanding that what sexuality is, is a set of patterns that align you to the world in a particular way. What your object is, is a patterning, a set of patternings.

If a gay man likes other men, he doesn’t like all other men, he likes some patternings among men. If in straight life one’s sexual objects are not all the other people who are not one’s gender but a subset of those people who represent a kind of patterning to you that your body and mind attach to as a condition of possibility.

In Cruel Optimism, the idea itself that your object is a relation, that your object is a cluster of promises to you, that you produce kinds of patterns in relation to it that are fundamentally ambivalent and improvisatory– all of those kinds of observations come from my training in Marxist and psychoanalytic theory, but above all in queer theory’s insistence that all objects are relations, projections, forms of interestedness that complicate what it means to be attached to the world. That’s the way in which Cruel Optimism is a very queer book.

Thinking about the object as a patterning that’s loosely organized, so that it would be possible to change the object without having to lose everything, is a really important part of this. So rather than saying “I hate the state,” or “I love the state,” saying “here’s what the state can do.” Rather than hate the couple form or love the couple form, say “here’s what being in a couple can do, and here’s the other things I need in order to flourish.” Then you start to think of yourself as having a capacity to produce many kinds of patterning and attachment to the world. The problem is always that queer life is exhausting because you kind of have to make it up all the time. There are so few conventions to rest in or cruise in. At the same time, it’s also really exciting to think you could be inventing something that will work better than the forms of efficiency that we call normative.

DS: I find that helpful, because I think it resonates with things that Robyn Wiegman and the later writings of Eve Sedgwick are up to. They don’t displace any of the political stakes, but they also ask other questions about what else is going on, and remain fundamentally curious.

LB: I’m all for training my students in curiosity. One thing we might talk about is what is an LGBTQ teacher’s job these days? How much is project of a queer pedagogy not just the project of distributing more fabulousness, or historical knowledge, but also of having curiosity about the object? For me, not taking the object for granted, assuming that it’s powerful because it’s ambivalent, because it’s tapping into a lot of different kinds of things, is a fundamental observation of queer work.

MURDER IN PASSING: An Interview with filmmakers John Greyson and Chase Joynt

John Greyson is an award-winning filmmaker whose titles include Fig Trees, Urinal, Zero Patience, Lilies, Proteus and Uncut. He teaches at York University in film. Chase Joynt is a writer/ performer/ filmmaker whose titles include Everyday to Stay, Akin and I’m Yours. Chase is also decorated with awards, and is currently working towards a PhD alongside John. I recently interviewed the pair on their fascinating project, Murder in Passing.

Murder in Passing is a trans-media, trans-gender, murder mystery produced for distribution via public trans-port. It breaks new ground in many ways, not least because it was produced in forty-two thirty-second episodes for a very special screen – Toronto’s public transit television monitors. The monitors are owned and operated by Pattison One-stop, who donated the screen time to the project. The series is also path breaking because of its engagement with this trio of ‘trans’ politics and spaces (trans-media, trans-gender, and trans-it). As John and Chase suggest in the discussion that follows, a string of explicitly spatial themes regarding the urban, mobility, and transport are taken up centrally in relation to transgender, making Murder in Passing a fascinating work for those interested in broad questions of the city and spatiality, as well as those working more specifically on public art, media geographies, and questions of sexuality, gender and space. Luckily for our readership, this part-silent, part-operatic and very queer murder mystery is available online as well as on the subway platforms of North America’s fourth largest city.

John Greyson explains that the project came about when he was approached by Sharon Switzer; a Toronto artist and founder/curator of the Art4Commuters project. A4C is responsible for introducing public art in 2007 to the Pattison Onestop television screens in the subway system. Switzer recently explained in an interview with a Toronto newspaper how, “these kinds of screens are taking over our landscapes… if we don’t stop and think about what kind of cultural content is on them, it’s just going to be all this corporate branding.” Murder in Passing is the first sustained serial narrative to appear on the screens, and in fact, as Greyson pointed out in our conversation, it may well be the “longest sustained serial narrative for public screens anytime anywhere!”

DC: To what extent were the specificities of the form of the series parameters given by the distribution media, and how much are creative decisions?

JG: Context absolutely dictated form. I’m used to thinking in terms of colour feature-length theatrical — whereas this was silent, black and white 30 second episodes for screens on a crowded chaotic subway platform. Equally, context implicated form — because the screens are public, and the viewer’s experience of them is often fragmented (we catch the first 2 seconds or last 5 seconds, out of the corner of our eye, out of context). So from the start we adhered to the Toronto Transit Commission’s guidelines regarding nudity, swearing, etc… Sharon we appointed our shepherd, steering our 42 episodes safely through the many gates and fields of scrutiny and approval. For instance, our homophobic cop character used to say ‘fag’ a lot — and it was clear in context he was a bigot — but we changed the word fag to ponce and other archaic terms, because we didn’t want to attract out-of-context complaints.

CJ: I think for many experimental media-makers, context always dictates/implicates form. Any art making that endeavors to shatter normative and/or pre-scripted forms of exhibition inherently breaks new ground in some capacity. John has always been trafficking and trend-setting in this manner. When people started to make documentaries about AIDS for example, what did John do? He made a musical.

DC: How involved was the Toronto Transit Commission (TTC)?

JG: They objected most to our original title — Murder in Transit — feeling it suggested that murders actually happen on Toronto’s public transit — so Sharon came up with Murder in Passing — and I’ve grown to like it better.

CJ: On a personal note, the title Murder in Passing became particularly relevant as the press images emerged for the project. As a passing trans man, my face on the poster doesn’t necessarily ring any transgressive alarms, but with one click- the façade of public gender conformity breaks down. How often do we see large-scale public images of trans people in Toronto that aren’t attached to health and/or public service campaigns? Alexander Chapman’s character Detective Epicene resists similar categorization. The press describes him as a “woman in drag”, “trans woman”, or “character dressed as a lady,” which indicate only some of the various ways in which passing is taken up and/or interpreted by the public in the context of Murder in Passing.

DC: Trans is being taken up in the series in so many variable ways – in terms of sex and sexuality, in terms of space and mobility, in terms of the corporation…. Can you talk about the different usages, meanings, spaces, and acts of trans?

JG: So much to say! Murder in Passing was a wonderful sandbox to take apart and put back together a host of themes, topics and questions — all revolving around the tripartite pun of transgender, transit, and transmedia.

CJ: My instinct is to respond, “What he said!”… in part to further the Greyson agenda of breaking open possibilities before locking them down into new containers, and in part to ask the question back to the audience and readership. Trans in its very definition begs this conversation to be bigger and broader than it is.

DC: There is an explicit play with trans in terms of gender and sex on the one hand, and trans in terms of physical mobilities (‘trans-port’, and ‘transit’- public, planetary) on the other. How are these meanings of trans as social and spatial mobilities linked or entangled?

JG: One of the nicest things of the form we chose was that it was open, not prescriptive — we definitely point at connections and correspondences, but actively invite the viewer to participate in connecting the dots.

CJ: The connection between trans(gender) and trans(it) continues to intrigue me. ‘Mobility’ broadly conceived begs questions of access and rights and privilege. How do we imagine these rights and privileges to map onto bodies? Transgender bodies are transitory, theorized as always moving in space between one point and another. What does it mean to question the transitory nature of the (transitioning) body when the points of departure keep shifting, and the ‘settling ground’ of the destination remains to be seen?

DC: ‘Passing’ is typically a means by which (racialized and gendered) people access (racialized and gendered) spaces that would otherwise be closed to them. It is typically a means to access space, yet in Murder in Passing, it is also the name of the city. In what ways can ‘P/passing’ be a place?

JG: It points back to public space — the politics and challenges and interpolations of public space for trans people, for commuters, for cyclists — in some ways, for Jan/Feb, Passing BC is actually a town located uniquely on the subway platforms of Toronto.

CJ: It also begs the question of ‘what’ is passing. Depending on the lens through which you experience the project, you might foreground gender, or transit, or city, in relation to your own interests and/or inquests. What is ‘passing’ continues to shift and change depending on the opinions and/or experiences of the viewer.

DC: Are the politics of ‘passing’ the politics of the city?

JG: Passing is active, subversive — and by no means only urban — and has evolved in public discourses from a paranoid obsession on those ‘hiding in plain sight’ (which stresses an elemental identity that is trying to evade a punitive fixed society) to the act of passing itself, which insists that societies must become as fluid as their subjects –

DC: Most of the scenes in the series take place in spaces of mobility – under freeway overpasses, on bicycles, on the public transit system. The series is sometimes even set on the same subway platforms where Murder in Passing airs. Perhaps with the ironic exception of the spin studio where mobility is made stationary, the series highlights spaces of movement and circulation. How do questions of capital circulation fit here? What does all this focus on trans-it tell us about contemporary urban life?

JG: The overt plot concerns an SUV murdering a cyclist (subtle, huh?) — and more, a conspiracy between a desperate mayor, a desperate SUV manufacturer and a chemistry professor, trying to unleash a ‘fugue’ state (in the manner of Gramsci’s hegemony) on a passive population, all for votes and profits –

CJ: The moments where the overt plot meets the subversive side-story might be the foundation upon which many artistic collaborations and careers are built. And let’s not forget that the only SWEAT present in the project happens in that stationary studio…

DC: The series (or, rather for the half of the series that airs ‘in transit’) is silent. Was the decision to work in silent form intended to evoke the time and genres of film before the ‘talkies’?

JG: All content on the subway screens is silent — but our choice to embrace a period feel both from silent films and also noir was our response to that — plus the ASL hand signals — which was emphasized in our plot by much focus on the voice in terms of gender issues.

CJ: Questions of how gender reads without spoken language intrigue me. The inclusion of ASL as another intricate series of language coding speaks to those nuances. How do we know what we know about gender? And what do we use as markers and/or signifiers of that knowledge and/or to inform those assumptions?

DC: There is a whole secondary part to the series – operatic segments – that air only online. Why the supplement?

JG: The ‘fugues’ open up a set of larger metaphors concerning gender and the voice — e.g. the title character of Gluck’s Orfeo ed Eurydice is basically a history of the gendered voice in opera — Orfeo was written for a castrato, later performed by a lyric tenor, later performed as a trouser role by contraltos, and finally, most recently, sung again by counter tenors (male soproanos) like the COC’s recent production — and then Jayne County becomes the punk counterpoint of all this. The fugues were also of course a space for exploring much content regarding both transgender and transit issues.

CJ: Interesting to note however, that even in the operatic segments, all characters within “the plot” are still “without audible voice”, the operatic elements are performed as a track to which the images are ultimately placed and/or juxtaposed.

DC: Given the significant difference in both the form and content of the silent and operatic segments, how did you decide what material to place where? Or, how did you understand the relationship between the forms?

JG: The detective story proper (silent) had to follow the rules of the genre — clues revealed through the detectives investigation of various characters — whereas the fugue sequences could be very random and fragmented (and much more adventurous) in terms of their content.

CJ: I think critics might argue that the fugue sequences are quintessential John Greyson. As a result, I think the silent episodes gain more meaning and insight when experienced in relation to their audible counterparts.

DC: The operatic segments are a dramatic juxtaposition to the silent segments – so much so that it can disorient the viewer, depending upon the context of viewing. Why the juxtaposition of the two different forms?

JG: It’s very purposeful — again helps point to silence and particularly the voice as vehicle for knowledge, information — and gender.

CJ: Even as an experimental filmmaker, I often find myself disoriented by silence. We live in a popular culture that is inundated with/by sound and image in sync. The lack of sound in the silent episodes draws attention to the visual signifiers. Or perhaps it might not, which is an equally interesting avenue of inquiry and investigation.

DC: Would you perhaps speculate that the mixing of form, the means of distribution, cinematic techniques, etc might themselves be forms of trans-representation (trans-media?), where we might think about trans as a series of motions or mobilities that also change what they cross? Or is this what we might call a ‘neo-realism’? What do you mean by that term?

JG: Definitely not neo-realism, which is more social justice agenda wedded to conventions of naturalism. Ours is definitely a transmedia (working across platforms) project — from commuter screens to the website, to twitter clues and daily clues published in the Metro paper — that embodies a social justice agenda — but mobilizes camp humour and music and genre play as our tools, instead of naturalism.

CJ: Realism and naturalism are constructs similar to any other. To perform “real/natural” is no more authentic than performing “unreal/unnatural.” Transmedia, transgression, and transmutation offer access points that are missing from the majority of other forms, and as such afford artistic intervention(s) that make way for so many other representative possibilities.

DC: Gramsci and his Prison Notebooks make a slew of appearances in the series. Gramsci?

JG: Why do we participate in our own oppression? (Why do we vote for Rob Ford?) Gramsci’s answer — hegemony — can be usefully explained using the metaphor of the fugue stage – -willful, functional amnesia.

Interview with Jenny Edkins

EdkinsEdkins bookI recently interviewed Jenny Edkins for this site. You can listen to the interview here.

Global PoliticsJenny is a Professor of International Politics at Aberystwyth University, and known for a series of important books, including Missing: Persons and Politics (see the review on this site); Trauma and the Memory of Politics; Whose Hunger? Concepts of Famine, Practices of Aid; and Poststructuralism and International Relations: Bringing the Political Back In.

The discussion covers her forthcoming piece in Society and Space – ‘Dismantling the Face: Landscape for Another Politics’ - and the book project that this is linked to; her previous research projects and books; poststructural theory in International Relations; her practices of writing; the innovative Global Politics textbook she has co-edited and the Interventions book series. Gregynog Poster IIIt closes with a discussion of how she works with post-graduate students and various initiatives she has been involved in to improve their research communities including the Gregynog Summer School in Postinternational Politics.

An interview on Take Back the Economy

imageKatherine Gibson, Jenny Cameron and Stephen Healy talk to Society & Space co-editor Jane M. Jacobs about their forthcoming book: Take Back the Economy: An Ethical Guide For Transforming Our Communities, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013.

Take Back the Economy looks at how the economy is the outcome of the decisions and efforts everyone makes every day. Full of exercises and inspiring examples from around the world, it shows how people can implement small-scale changes in their own lives to create ethical economies. It was written by J.K. Gibson-Graham, Jenny Cameron and Stephen Healy, all geographers and founding members of the Community Economies Collective:

Jane: Thank you all for joining me and agreeing to this interview. Let me begin by saying how much I enjoyed reading the book. Congratulations!  I would like to begin by asking a bit about how you came to write a book such as this. It is a distinct genre of writing, something between an academic book and something more populist—almost a self-help book. Do let me ask how the book came about, what were you trying to achieve by writing the book?

Katherine: Well we wanted to write something populist, so we could get our ideas out to a wider audience. We thought in the beginning, when we started five years ago, that it was going to be a version of A Postcapitalist Politics. So in the first instance we wanted to write a book that anyone could pick up and read, whether it is an undergraduate or whether it is a community organizer. So we definitely had that audience in mind when we were writing it. In A Postcapitalist Politics we talked about a language politics, where the idea of a community economy could be a new kind of node, a mobilizing node, for people to reorganize our economy. But how to actually do that? We experimented with action research projects that were all very place based and relatively constrained and I guess our feeling was; how do we broaden this out? And if we want to do that we have to write something that is going to speak to a much wider audience. And I think, the others could mention other things, but the process of moving to that voice took a long time. And to do it in a way that we didn’t feel was too preachy, because I think the point about self-help is true. Even in A Postcapitalist Politics Julie and I mentioned how we are self-help junkies. There is no doubt about it! Or at least I think I was more when she was alive, actually (laughter). Maybe I should return to it as I am missing the benefits of it.  We all experienced the way in which a new reframing can totally shift your sense of self and possibility, and that is what we wanted to do in this book, for the economy. But I will end there and let the others reflect.

Jenny: When you said about the idea of reframing, Kath, it makes me think that, although we have not explicitly said this to each other, we had in mind books like Kretzmann and McKnight’s Building Community from the Inside Out: A Path Toward Finding and Mobilizing a Community’s Assets. This is a book that speaks to a popular audience and does that reframing work from a deficit model to a strength-based model. Those kinds of books were probably there in the back of our minds as well.

Jane: I wanted to ask you what books you found inspirational, so that is useful to know.

Jenny: I don’t think it was consciously inspirational but all of us have used that work at various times. And have appreciated the way it can really produce a shift.  And so that was one of those things tucked away influencing us.

Katherine: Another one I can think of is George Lakoff’s, Don’t Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate. That was definitely about the power of reframing.  That had a real impact. There have been other popular books like Rebecca Solnit’s Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities which really spoke to us and felt like it is really doing something that is inspiring people and Naomi Klein’s work. You know those kinds of people I think inspired us. I will leave space for Stephen to come in here….

Stephen: Well, for me, we wanted to write a popular book from the beginning that is true, but in the course of trying to translate the insight from The End of Capitalism and A Postcapitalist Politics into a language that can be picked up by church groups or community organizers we had to do, actually, a lot of new theoretical work in order to make that happen. And a lot of that occurred in really thinking about how do we get people to look at their working lives with a sense of possibility rather than either just resenting the wage employment they are involved with or feeling like they don’t have enough of it. There are a lot of other questions that could be asked in relation to that one aspect of our economic lives.

All four of us have become increasingly concerned with the anthropocene as well over the past few years. So, to combine a taking back the economy with respect to sociality and the meaning, purpose and dignity of work, with also thinking about ecological issues, that was a set of connections that we developed in relation to each one of the chapters: How we work, how we exchange things; how we organize production; what we do with surplus and how we invest for the future.

But there is another shift there too, which is maybe particular to being a left academic: the move from a kind of position of critical mastery, this idea that we are constantly critiquing what is wrong with the economy or with capitalism or with neo-liberalism, to really thinking about the performative effects of speaking this new language. And for me, increasingly, the new language isn’t just about the words that I use but the way I measure and value the economy. There is a metrological device in the chapters that is part of a new politics of representation and really they are the basis for an open-ended conversation.

When I went through the work chapter with my students this fall, for instance, a lot of what they brought up was a lack of connection to community and occupational fulfillment. Some of that is part of the life stage, but some of it was about a kind of alienation that young people are dealing with. And so the book animated a conversation that I could tell they had not had before. So to me that is what we are popularizing, that different disposition towards knowledge, and to how we understand our relationship to the economy.

Jane: Thank you for that elaboration. What struck me is the fact that you are offering a new vocabulary; you may even use that term vocabulary.  That the book is trying to provide another way of seeing, experiencing and registering the economy. And the way you all talk about ‘metrics’ is right, you offer another way of auditing the world around you, and this is a very compelling part of the book.

One of the things I really liked about the book in relation to some aspects of contemporary debate, not within economic theory but perhaps more geographical theory, is how your emphasis on language seems counter to the current emphasis on the non-representational. This was a book that really reminds us just how powerful vocabulary and representational fields are in terms of reshaping what can happen and be done in the world.

Katherine:  That is exactly right. It is our shift away from total fixation with the representational, to the embodied and metrological and technological ways in which economies are experienced. But it is very much an intermixing of the two, because one cannot happen without the other. And reading it again now one of the things that really struck me was how we are using Latour’s argument and Callon’s argument about learning to be affected. And while we have used that in other writing, here in this book we really are trying to operationalize that idea. And the idea of showing people the diversity of relationships they have and economic practices that they are already involved in, that is really just the strategy coming out of our diverse economy kind of interest. But once you see that diversity, once you audit it, once you actually own it, it does suddenly transform things about what you can do. And I guess adding in with respect to that affective realm our relationship with the non-human as much as with the human, that has been a new shift, one of the theoretical developments that Stephen mentioned.  But I did think that, well that very simple kind of phrase [learning to be affected], we have really taken it on. So it is another thing that has influenced us, not so much a popular book but a way of stating a theoretical concept that we have tried to bring alive in the book.

Jenny: What that makes me think of, Jane, is that although as you say [the book] has that self-help feel to it, in fact one the things we hoped the book might do is to get people in conversation with each other. So the self-help is not individualizing, but is something people can do collectively. So that people are both looking at their own practices, but in conversation with other people who are also thinking about that. But also I would hope through the examples we have in the book, that people can see themselves as globally connected with others who are thinking along the same lines and wanting to make the same sort of shifts and transitions.

Jane: I think it is very interesting the discomfort I felt by saying it read a little bit like a self-help book, and the discomfort of your response tells me that you feel this as well. The other term I thought of and wrote down when reading the book, which again I though was an insufficient term, was that of the ‘lifestyle’ book. Not least because the word lifestyle is so hackneyed now, and lost to us really as a term for radical change. But in many respects this book is about lifestyle, or re-styling life and work. And it did occur to me that you may be pushing towards or even have invented a new genre of book within this populist vein of publishing: neither self-help, nor lifestyle, and so much more than both of these, but also utterly an academic book at the core.

I was interested in thinking about the pragmatism of the book versus the kind of idealism that I know that the project of thinking about a non-capitalist economy, which was the term that you and Julie began with, Kathie. Which was always so resisted by everybody who heard you say it. And here you have now moved towards something called ‘community economy’ and this kind of pragmatic field of rethinking and action. I wonder if you could address that journey? What has gone on in your thinking in the course of that journey? How something that began a lot more idealistically perhaps has become something far more pragmatic.

Katherine: Mmm, I don’t know that I identify with the idealism that you see in The End of Capitalism and A Postcapitalist Politics.  I guess, yes, the interest in another kind of world, the postcapitalist world, has been there right from the beginning. So I guess the question for us has always been: what does that really mean? And taking up the idea that Jean Luc Nancy had of communism as [ “the index of a task of thought still and increasingly open” 2002:8], as a yet unexperienced thing, an unfinished project to some extent. So, I see the framing and what we are doing and thinking around with respect to community economy as a kind of reformulation of communism. It is a way of getting to the essence of what that ideal was, that sense of the interdependence that we necessarily have, right from the beginning with each other and our earth.  Yes, there is definitely a pragmatism in the sense that we have accepted the term ‘community’ just like Nancy has done, and we have tried to reframe what that is too against a lot of opposition from the Left and against a lot of misunderstandings and views of community and the happy clappy kind of feeling of it.  And I think in the book we have really tried to show where these ambiguous moments come up, where these conflictual moments, where what might seem ethically right in one moment is going to be undermined in the very next. That there is no right way here, but it has to always be negotiated and renegotiated. So the pragmatism I think is in that sense of the fragility always of any sense of interdependence, and the facing up to it, and the relief of facing up to it.

You know the problem with the self-help imagery and the lifestyle imagery is the very individualism of it. And I think what we are trying to do in this book is to say ‘yes, we have to start where we are, with ourselves and our relationships’, but the only way we will ever be able to act is in concert and in relation with others. So, the pragmatism is really from that point of view.

And clearly a lot of people don’t like the way in which we have stepped away from the oppositional project of undermining capitalism. And I think, for example, probably a lot of the Occupy movement would not necessarily like what we are doing even though we get a huge amount of inspiration from them. And that is a thing that continually comes up: [we get asked] why have you stepped away from the resistant positional project to this making project? But that is consistent with what we have been trying to argue for a long time in our work.  It is just in this book we have more of a “how to” aspect, which opens us up of course to a lot of criticism and scorn to some extent.

And just before I finish and the others take up, on this question of lifestyle.  I have been thinking about all the different reality TV programmes that are around at the moment, not just pure lifestyle, not, for example “The Biggest Loser” or the “Big Brother” kind of thing, but these programmes that are saying how do we change the way we [live] and feel happy.  There was a great series [set in Marrickville] in Australia around an experiment with people trying to improve their happiness along all the dimensions of well being, not unlike what we are interested in. There has been a [British] reality TV series about, for example, setting up a people’s supermarket where people own the business and source local food.  There have been these programmes of people stepping, for example,  out of the shoes of a bus driver in London and into those of  a jeepney driver in Manila and experiencing what life is like.  So it seems like in popular culture there is a lot of interest in what are the lives we are leading and how can we make them different. And I guess our book is trying to say that anyone can do this, we do not just have to be in a reality TV show to do it. But how can we do this with others in the various groups and communities that we are already existing in.  So that is another aspect of that pragmatism.

Jane: Jenny, Stephen?

Josef's clockJenny: Just picking up that point about the pragmatism, and the idea of the community economy.  What we are trying to do in the book is open up the economy as something that gets made through the ethical decisions we are taking. And they involve a degree, even though they are ethical, of pragmatism about what is right for this moment and that might be different in another moment, it might be different in another place. But trying to unpack all the sorts of decisions that can go into thinking about what you are doing in one particular moment. And one of the things that I suspect some people won’t like about the book, and this is in relation to other books [on offer] in this area, is that there are a lot of books around that spell out really big picture recipes: “government must do this”, “government should put this process into place”, in order to transform the economy. So, people like us, identifying lots of problems, but wondering how do you go about shifting it. And one way that most books seem to work is by coming out with these really big picture recipes and models that need to be put into place. So [our] pragmatism is much more about our thinking about decisions that we can take and everyday practices we can do.  With the self-help thing we are not trying to give people the Ten Commandments. But what we are trying to do is to give people a set of tools that they can open up their decision making with, when they are thinking about how they want to live with others and live with the planet.

Jane: Stephen, do you want to add in anything at this point?

Stephen: A lot of what has been said really resonates with me. For me, the way that I make sense of how this fits into the self-help, life-style genre is that usually those books are written, framed, in relation to individual choice, a bourgeois crafting of the self. And that in every instance in our book we are really asking people to take up the question of what their life should be in its economic and ecological dimensions, on a collective basis. So one thought that we have been playing with, all three of us, is this recent essay that was written by Michael Hardt, where he distinguishes biopower from the biopolitical in the work of the late Foucault.  And biopower is a term that he uses to describe a kind of state administration of life. In opposition to that he identifies a thread within Foucault’s work, the biopolitical, that is a practice of politics that takes life itself as an object, and he suggests that this can be done collectively.  And I think in each instance we are really asking people to think about the sociality of their economic lives and the impact that they have on earth others.  So for me it is a positive biopolitical project. And I think that that is, somehow, pragmatic.  But I think that it is very unsettling for all those people on the Left that always think of, or conflate, the biopolitical with biopower and imagine that the state has to be resisted because it is always captured by neoliberalism. In contrast, we are saying, “ no, no, no, we can actually have conversations,we can have ways of measuring and valuing our economic lives that could have policy implications”.

Jane: And I think Stephen, my immediate experience of reading the book, but also in previous discussions about this, is that when you can look around your household and not imagine that every aspect of it is somehow scripted by neoliberalism (laughter) then it really is a very important reconfiguration of the politics of subjection.

Stephen: Yes that is right.

Jane: So, for me, this is a very powerful part of what is done within the book.  And what I think is most immensely powerful about it, is that it is not expressed in those terms.  I do not think the word neoliberalism appears in the book at all if I am right.

Jenny: We are talking about the index at the moment. It won’t be indexed!

Katherine: I think that what this points to is something we realized at the end of writing it, which was that there is a huge amount of theoretical work and theoretical argumentation that underlies what we are doing and saying, which we could now excavate and write as more academic articles. For example, that conversation with Michael Hardt, for instance, that we could do.

In a funny way the theories we have been working on have been so embodied in how we have written the book and we explicitly tried to use as little jargon – and I am a great one for jargon when it is related to its context – but this is a context in which that kind of language just would not work.

Stephen: We also have discussed at various times how there could be a set of methodological approaches here in relation to many of the metrics we have developed.  The book draws up a research agenda both for ourselves and for other members of our collective.

But to say one more thing about the pragmatism. You know there are definitely examples in the book that leap out as uncomfortable, for me anyway. For example, Norway’s sovereign wealth fund, predicated on oil extraction. How do you square that with the politics of climate change? And they have come up with a solution, but it would not work for everyone. So for me that is where that kind of conversational practice could really exist in connection with the book. Because the ethics do not line up with a normative prescription. I also feel like this book sets out a research agenda for anyone who reads it in, say, in the context of a community group that wants to build a more sustainable or just economy.

Jane: I would like to focus on something that I found interesting and possibly a little surprising for those not in touch with your more recent thinking about the anthropocene, and this was the ecological thread that is in this work.  It seems to be more explicitly expressed here than in much of the earlier work. It maybe goes back to something Stephen was saying earlier about how the book forced you to rethink some things theoretically. It occurred to me that if this book had been written by you, this collective, maybe 15 years ago (if it were possible to do this 15 years ago) then it would have been all about equity and justice. But the important thing your project has done is reframe thinking about the economy away from such goals as the be all and end all of critical scholarship.   And now we have your already radical rethinking of economy threaded through with an ecological imagination and aspiration.  And I just wondered if you could talk to that embracing of the ecological agenda?

Katherine: If we had sat down and written and finished this book 5 years ago it would not have been there as much either.  When we started the book with Julie I don’t think that the concerns that are now in the book around the ecological and environmental were as upper most and as developed. I mean from my personal point of view its, well, there are two things. Obviously, there is the whole political issue of ‘the world’; it is more of a real political issue, center stage. And I think for me, personally, there was the relationship with Val Plumwood and Deborah Bird Rose and Freya Matthews. Those relationships have influenced me, and Julie, by virtue of her relation with me, ended up having relationships with at least two of those people as well in the workshop that we organized on An Ethics for Living in the Anthropocene in the beginning of 2010 [not long before she died]. So the conversation that I had been having over the years around what Plumwood and Deb Bird Rose were thinking about, which had never really come to any real engagement, but there was a sense in which our projects were so similar in so many ways, and yet they were focusing on ecological relationships and other more-than-human connections, although not using those terminologies, and we were focusing on this community economy and rethinking economy, but the projects were so ready to speak to each other. And when Val died I realized that we had really lost this opportunity to go into that space, and I felt that I had to do it. And out of that came the work that Julie and I did with Gerda Roelvink on questions of the anthropocene.  So I guess for me, and given that people in the Community Economies Collective were also questioning the whole idea of the human centered-ness of our community economy, we had to move away from that.  And that’s a big issue for people coming out of a Marxian tradition and economic practice and theory: how do you move away from a human centered subject? So theoretically this has been a major source of thinking and creativity within the Community Economies Collective, which we wanted to start to address in this book as well.  So that is just one aspect, which is a kind of genealogical one.  But increasingly it has become the creative edge of the work too.

Stephen: I think that is right but, Kath maybe you could help me out here. Do you remember that talk? It might have been the Progress in Human Geography lecture that you gave at the AAG where you compared diverse economies language with the role of diversity in ecological sciences.

Katherine: I do not know where that was, off hand, it was somewhere!

Stephen: I think that was 2008.

Katherine: Yes that thinking then came through the work of Jane Jacobs, the older

Jenny: the other!

Katherine: That’s true Stephen; it was through our engagement with Jane Jacobs through The Nature of Economy, that book she wrote. And it is true Stephen, that came way back because Julie and I read that in one of our retreats over summer.  I can still see us on the verandah of a house on the south coast [of Australia], and we got so much out of that thinking. So the ecological theme has been kind of dormant in the work.

Stephen: Also your engagement with Stephen Gudeman and evolutionary theory, so I feel like that thread has been there nascent in the work for quite some time. And I know it was an animating concern for Julie, it was deep, you know. It was one of those things, she would always think about possibilities with sociality and economics, but she would literally get verklempt in relation to ecological situations to do with things like species loss. It was a deep concern for her, for a long time.

Jane: I know that some of that more ecological work has been taken up by others within the wider Community Economies Collective. And it might be useful, for those new to your work, to explore how the wider group has functioned with respect to this writing project.

Jenny: Well an immediate thing is thinking about how we work when we are so geographically dispersed.  What we do have is nodes. So there is the Sydney node that meets once a month and at various times. So when Stephen visits, he is part of that node. And we read drafts of each other’s work. So at various meetings the collective has read parts of the book and commented.  And the AAG conferences as well play a really important where people get to hear about the work and interact with it.

Katherine: And I think the interests of the people within the group, and here I think of Ethan Miller, Ann Hill and Gerda Roelvink and others who are trying to really work on this economy/ecology relationship. This has encouraged us to keep going. Especially Ethan’s comments.  Ethan Miller, who is based in Maine but came to UWS (University of Western Sydney) to do a PhD, had started working with our work at the end of his undergraduate career. I think he went on a trip all around New England with The End of Capitalism in his backpack, visiting experiments in economic and community economies.  And then finally stepped out of his very activist role and came and did a Masters with Julie, although she died before the end of it. Ethan read the manuscript of A Postcapitalist Politics for us in 2005 and gave us 12 single-spaced pages of comments, which helped us totally reframe the book in terms of the politics of language, the politics of the subject and the politics of collective action.  And there he was again reading this manuscript and giving us again something like 12 pages of comments that really helped us focus and reshape the book.  We also had some wonderful comments too from other readers and reviewers, but alongside of those, Ethan’s, because he was so engaged with the work, were some of the most searching and really have helped us.

Stephen: He really helped the order of the book coalesce. And also in terms of his own biography, really, taking classes with Julie and the late Lyn Margulis. There is a lot of potential there in terms of going much further with this line of thinking in our group.

Jane: Can I talk a little about the authorship process? Clearly all of you are committed co-authors in various ways, and Kathie, you and Julie of course produced something unique with your authorial name [of J-K Gibson-Graham]. So I think there may be a curiosity about how you work as co-authors on this project, but also of course how the authorial team has worked without Julie….or with Julie!

Jenny: I have such a strong memory, and I think it must be in 2008, there was a period when we were trying to write the book proposal (and that almost feels like it took as long as writing the book!).  We tried to do an elaborate proposal. We had this wild idea that if we did an elaborated book proposal in which each chapter had a couple of pages then we would just be able to sit down and write the book! {laughter} Do you remember that?  We thought that if we gave a sufficient guide for each chapter then we could just write it. So that took us ages to do.

In 2008 we were all together in the summer at Julie’s house, and Julie was upstairs working in her study, Kath was at the dining room table and I was in the lounge room and Stephen was in his room and we were all working on various bits of what was, I think, Chapter 5, the business/surplus chapter, and we worked on the Introduction. And I think that is when the four of us were intensively in the same space working on the book. And then I don’t think we have had the same intensity again until Christmas 2011, when Stephen you were out in Australia working in Kathie’s house. And I mean in a way doing a similar sort of process.

Each of us has played different roles with different chapters. In some chapters some of us were the first drafters, in other chapters we came in later.  But we have all written each chapter to some extent, and each contributed in a different way to the various chapters. So when you are reading it is hard to pinpoint different author styles as things have been written and re-written so many times that it is a very collective project and product.

Katherine: The magnitude of the book, especially in terms of the examples we draw upon, could never have been done by any one of us alone.  Let alone the thinking. There have been slight divisions of labor as well as the interpenetration of work. Some of that work on getting those examples, mastering them and deciding what was to go where, has been such a collective effort.  And I do not think we could have done it as a smaller group.

I think, working without Julie has been kind of, well, it’s been hard, really hard I think.  On the other hand, I feel like the three of us have been able to work extremely well too, with our different skills. And I feel like the voice of Julie is there all the time.  I mean, what she would have said all of us can voice at various moments, what she would have thought.  And I guess my own personal feeling is, the place I have missed her most, is in her wonderfully graceful and elegant writing. The way she could take something and just add a certain sheen to it that would really make it sing. And I think we have all tried to emulate that, but I still feel that, I mean, her incredible clarity.  I think we have managed to get the clarity she would have got, but she was always such a clarifier.  I think that is something that we have all learnt with her and from her. That way to get just the right word every now and again. Which probably comes out of her training as a literary person.  I still feel that I miss that.

Jane: I think that the clarity of the book is wonderful, you should have no apprehension about that.  It is beautifully pitched and clear as a bell.

Katherine: Jenny is also a great clarifier as she is such a wonderful teacher, so Stephen and I also learn from her.

Jane: I am interested in the fact that this is a book that wants to do something that, to use the terms of the British Higher Education sector, might be called “impact”. Some of the readers of this blog are well and truly inside of that impact story and will, as they read this piece, be actively preparing their “returns” as they are called, auditing their outputs and impacts, through the REF2014 research evaluation exercise. I am wondering what this kind of project has to say to that model of auditing impact.  I wonder if you have thought about the book in those terms. You clearly want it to do something – to change the way people look at the world and conduct their lives – and the British government might like to call that impact. But I wonder where you are as a collective in relation to ideas of impact, as opposed to your model of breaking down the barrier between the ivory tower of the university and the community.  You have done this in so many ways, through the action research and now this book. What does your mode of working have to say to something called as ‘impact’?

Jenny: We are going through a similar exercise here! I feel a certain degree of frustration about that because here the way in which impact is valued is in terms of very tangible ways: as if you do research x, and it produces outcome y.  So you do a piece of research on policy and you produce a policy outcome. So it seems like what is valued in the impact metrics is a causal model, a very one-to-one causal model, of impact.  Whereas, in my mind, a book like this, and if we adhere to the notion of overdetermination, is one of a multitude of things that might produce an outcome or a shift.  How you document that in the way that impact measures want is a source of frustration.

Stephen: I would point out that we have invited our readership to share with us whatever projects they undertake after they read the book. So that is in lots of the physical sciences now, such collaborative work and thinking is standard practice in industry and science. Is it possible to do something similar in the realm of social research: to be more self-conscious about sharing. Likewise the whole solidarity economy movement in Brazil, Italy, Spain, France and elsewhere really is about using metrology and mapping in order to build new economic relationships based on a different ethic. I think the normative politics are more explicit there than they are in our work but, as Jenny was saying, if you have this different ontological commitment to overdeterminism or to performative research, then we have a different understanding of what the impacts will be. But I think that maybe we could quantify it.

Katherine: And clearly we are interested in moving ahead to establish some kind of interactive presence on the web and ways in which these tools of measuring and auditing showcased in the book could be used and become part of a database or an e-research project. In that sense there would be a way of quantifying the impact, but it is in a very different model of impact than our excellence and research assessment exercises imagines and seeks.  And this was one of the slight worries I had when we were thinking about the book, hoping it would not be seen as a text book for instance, in which case it would have no or very little value in those kind of exercises.  And it will be interesting to see how it gets evaluated academically in that sense.  But, hey, we cannot live our lives dominated by those kinds of visions. It is just too soul destroying.  As academics and as colleagues and as activists, we have to keep our eye on what we want to be doing.  And this was something we all wanted to do.  So I feel that one has to live in a parallel universe to these disciplinary framing and evaluation systems.  I suppose I can say that with the security of being at the end of my career. But I am also very aware of what this means for people earlier in their career, and hence why it is an imperative for us now to get out some more academic style papers based on this book.  If we had started with that agenda we would never have written this book.

Jane: That is a very valuable set of reflections. I have just one last question, although you may have other things to add.  Of course there are many more things to be said about the book for it is so compelling.  But I wonder, as a final reflection you might talk about what your hope is for the book.

Jenny: We want it to go viral! [laughter]  It is easy! The University of Minnesota Press are going to try and get the cost of it down to about $20, so we really are hoping it will get a wide readership.

Katherine: There will be work to be done to get that to happen of course, getting it onto YouTube and so on. But we would love it to get picked up.

Stephen: I would love to see all of the metrological devices we developed turned into smartphone apps.

Katherine: Ultimately we would love to see various organic emergences of different, new, unthought-of  communities develop, be that between Filipino farmers and Australian coal miners, or academics and people elsewhere in their own community actually being able to talk about this stuff. It feels like so much of what is going on in the world at this moment in terms of economic issues and environment issues is kind of unsaid. The real things that are affecting us are not being talked about in a way that people can actually converse. I guess I am hoping that this could be a trigger for those kinds of conversations. Maybe that is where the idealism comes in. And what that means for us as people who have written the book I am not sure. I am hoping that it can get owned by people and just get taken on and we lose our presence in it.

Jane: Many thanks for your time in giving this interview for Society & Space and we wish you all the best for the book.

New issue out – Volume 30 Issue 6

The new issue of Society and Space is now out. It includes a series of tributes to Neil Smith (open access), an interview with Bruno Latour, a discussion with Elizabeth Grosz, and papers by Klaus Dodds, Gareth Hoskins, Justin Steil and Jennifer Ridgley, Robert Kaiser, Junxi Qian, Liyun Qian, and Hong Zhu, Renisa Mawani, Tim Edensor and David Evans. Full contents listed below.

Neil Smith: a critical geographer 947 – 962
Deborah Cowen, David Harvey, Donna Haraway, Max Rameau, Nick Bacon, Matthew Bissen, Marnie Brady, Zoltán Glück, Malav Kanuga, Steve McFarland, Jessica Miller, Elizabeth Sibilia, Erin Siodmak, Laurel Mei Turbin, Gerry Kearns, Blanca Ramírez, Gerry Pratt, Alfredo Jaar

An aesthetics of proof: a conversation between Bruno Latour and Francis Halsall on art and inquiry 963 – 970
Francis Halsall

Geopower: a panel on Elizabeth Grosz’s Chaos, Territory, Art: Deleuze and the Framing of the Earth 971 – 988
Kathryn Yusoff, Elizabeth Grosz, Nigel Clark, Arun Saldanha, Catherine Nash

Graduated and paternal sovereignty: Stephen Harper, Operation Nanook 10, and the Canadian Arctic 989 – 1010
Klaus Dodds

On arrival: memory and temporality at Ellis Island, New York 1011 – 1027
Gareth Hoskins

‘Small-town defenders’: the production of citizenship and belonging in Hazleton, Pennsylvania 1028 – 1045
Justin Steil, Jennifer Ridgley

Reassembling the event: Estonia’s ‘Bronze Night’ 1046 – 1063
Robert Kaiser

Subjectivity, modernity, and the politics of difference in a periurban village in China: towards a progressive sense of place? 1064 – 1082
Junxi Qian, Liyun Qian, Hong Zhu

Racial violence and the cosmopolitan city 1083 – 1102
Renisa Mawani

Illuminated atmospheres: anticipating and reproducing the flow of affective experience in Blackpool 1103 – 1122
Tim Edensor

Binning, gifting and recovery: the conduits of disposal in household food consumption 1123 – 1137
David Evans

Neil Smith (1954-2012)

The following short piece will appear in issue 5, due out shortly. A number of Neil’s pieces, listed below, have been made open access to enable more people to get a sense of the quality and breadth of his remarkable work at this sad time.

Shortly before this issue went to press, we were desperately saddened to hear of the untimely death of Neil Smith. Neil will be known to many readers of this journal as a co-editor between 1993 and 2003, as a regular contributor, and as a long-term supporter of the combination of geography, social theory, and politics that sustains this journal’s work.

Neil held posts in his native Scotland and in the United States, most recently as Distinguished Professor of Anthropology and Geography at the Graduate Center, City University of New York. Neil was highly regarded for his truly original work in a number of fields, particularly in his wonderful books Uneven Development, The New Urban Frontier, American Empire and The Endgame of Globalization. He was known for his incisive analyses of contemporary events, many of which appeared in this journal as commentaries, as well as for his theoretically and historically informed work on the politics of space and place. He had a breadth of knowledge and range of interests that brought him into contact with many interlocutors. A regular book editor, he was known for his facilitating role in the discipline and beyond, as well as for his encouragement and support for scholars at all stages of their careers. He was a wonderful person as well as a brilliant scholar, warm and funny, incisive and generous. Neil was a critical geographer in all senses. He will be greatly missed.

The editors and staff

Open Access Pieces by Neil Smith

Neil Smith, 1987, “Of yuppies and housing: gentrification, social restructuring, and the urban dreamEnvironment and Planning D: Society and Space 5(2) 151 – 172

Neil Smith, 2000, “Global SeattleEnvironment and Planning D: Society and Space 18(1) 1 – 5

Neil Smith, 2001, “Scales of terror and the resort to geography: September 11, October 7Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 19(6) 631 – 637

Neil Smith, 2000, “What happened to class?Environment and Planning A 32(6) 1011 – 1032

Cindi Katz and Neil Smith, 2003, “An interview with Edward SaidEnvironment and Planning D: Society and Space 21(6) 635 – 651

Neil Smith, 2007, “Another revolution is possible: Foucault, ethics, and politicsEnvironment and Planning D: Society and Space 25(2) 191 – 193

Naomi Klein and Neil Smith, 2008, “The Shock Doctrine: a discussionEnvironment and Planning D: Society and Space 26(4) 582 – 595

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