Map of East End Net, London. Via.
Let us summarize the principal characteristics of a rhizome: unlike trees or their roots, the rhizome connects any point to any other point [...] It is composed not of units but of dimensions, or rather directions in motion. It has neither beginning nor end, but always a middle (milieu) from which it grows and which it overspills.
- Deleuze & Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus
Thus is described the rhizome, the symbol of the internet age. When Michel Foucault said that the 20th century may one day be called Deleuzian, it is doubtful that this is what he intended. And yet, the language of this young, networked century so far is mimicking the speech of the philosophers Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari.
The language of Deleuze and Guattari is employed by everyone from the Israeli Defense Forces to this arts website, including any number of for-profit and non-profit startups in between those poles. War machines, companies, NGOs, and arts organizations all find utility in a philosophy that describes systems moving according to programmatic algorithms, breaking through what was solid, and re-writing the codes of meaning. War, commodities, society, and art all function according to their own programming. The public is coming to terms with the knowledge that the internal coding of networks is what defines future possibilities in the 21st century.
And yet, we are often too quick to tell ourselves that this programming can be rewritten for the greater social good. In our enthusiasm for the rhizomatic fruits of this new century, we often neglect the technology itself, replacing it with our ideas of what the technology could be. It is far easier to wield ideologically expedient speculative fictions than to develop socially expedient tools.
Consider what might be the most rhizomatic technology of them all: the mesh network. In words it is the perfect rhizome. Independent nodes set up the same piece of software in their network router. Every router connects to every other router, forming a multi-dimensional web with no central point to be disabled. It is "legion," to use a familiar term from contemporary parlance: each point is not a separate unit, but n-dimensions of distributed power. Some routers are designed to connect to each other ad hoc, over the air, without needing any wires between them. Even cell phones can connect in such a mesh, promoting a vision of infinite, pocket-sized nodes, deployed at a protest or as a hedge against infrastructure-destroying natural disaster. They could be manufactured in bulk, as cheap as a Raspberry Pi, solar-powered, disguised as innocuous light fixtures or other small appliances. The mesh network vision is of a rhizomatic network that is local, horizontal, self-healing, non-hierarchical, and scalable. Philosophically, its kung fu is perfect—bending like a reed in the wind against any foe, whether deployed by Occupy, by Egyptian revolutionaries, against censorship, war, flooding, poverty, or ISPs. In language, it is everything we expect from the future, the fantasy of certain post-structural technological desires.
Allan Sekula and Noël Burch, still from The Forgotten Space (2010).
I woke up at the chime, looked at the mobile. New work available. I clocked in, made coffee, sat at the desk. Two hours of work right away, even before Twitter. Felt accomplished. I invoiced, and collected.
I met Sandra for breakfast. She's in Miami. She had the ceiling open to let in the sun. She got into a new task queue, editorial work. It's good work, she said, even though the pay isn't quite as good as advertising. What's the difference, I said, sipping my Bloody Mary. Different algorithmic authors, same algorithmic grammar problems.
Former Ministry of Highways Building, Tbilisi.
There is a sense in which all architecture is authoritarian, regardless of its ideals. No matter how many community meetings a planning process incorporates, in the end only one building may be built; one architecture, which by its very existence precludes another. The eventual users and non-users of the space may make minor modifications. They may open or close windows, but in the end they must deal with the consequences of the building, whether it is a postwar housing project or a San Jose strip mall. They must negotiate its little manipulations, and have little in the way of recourse if these should become oppressive.
Artists, at least of a particular bent, are not the sort to take authority at its word. Even under the most oppressive of conditions artists find ways to critique and to criticize, and to present alternate theories of the world. They respond to all forms of power, architecture included, through gestures that range from the most basic act of graffiti to Ai Weiwei's "studies of perspective."
Kari Altmann, image from Soft Mobility Abstracts (2014).
When I tell my close friends—who know of, and share, my anti-capitalist anarchist views—that I own some cryptocurrency (my current holdings equal something under 10 USD) I get the same sort of looks that I did when I told them in 2009 that I used Twitter. "How can you support that libertarian bullshit?"
United States of America
Weird Shift is a six-month multi-faceted project, designed to create a community culture around lesser-known areas of knowledge. Weird Shift’s purpose is to collect, document, share, and thereby stimulate the investigation of illuminating and exciting marginalia. By providing events for visitors to share and learn about sideline intellectual pursuits and performances, Weird Shift creates a community culture around minor areas of knowledge that include local and regional arcana, anecdotal stories, speculative histories, and vernacular electronics. By offering a physical space in which the Archives of the Weird Shift can be made publicly available and curated for display, Weird Shift shares the work of many people and inspires visitors to pursue their own alternative research. And by having staff on hand in the space to engage community members, Weird Shift supports this culture and offers its resources to those who can use them for further weird marginalia studies.
We want you to be part of this space, to come in and work with us to promote this sort of research into marginal studies. We are looking for workshops, lectures, art installations, performances, events, games, skill shares, paper presentations, speeches, individual artworks, and general research that can be incorporated into the archive.
Our current schedule will run the space between April and October, 2014. The storefront is located in Portland, Oregon.
If you are interested in working on a project in this space submit images and ideas to firstname.lastname@example.org
Tell us two things: 1) what you want to do, and; 2) some possible dates when you could do it. Currently we have an open call for visual artworks, performances, lectures etc. and there will be more specific calls for curated selections at later dates.
We are also interested in remotely-delivered projects, via network, phone, or mail.
Scheduling is happening now on a rolling basis! Get in touch today!
Weird Shift Storefront is supported by the Precipice fund and FreeGeek project grants.
I personally believe in facts, rather than truth. Facts are beholden to their context, which is a terrain of other facts. There is no singular truth, but there is a preponderance of facts mapped and understood in context. Continuing to add these constituent facts into our reality is much more important than attempting to label a single, authentic reality.
So as that relates to technological surveillance, it is important to incorporate the many things that the US government is doing, in that regard, into our worldview as fact. These are not potentials, to be held up and weighed against a background of "ethical, legal action", or "just war", or any other proclaimed field on which we can argue back and forth, "is X really torture or not?" While these debates of objective truth spiral around the front pages of the newspaper, the actions continue to occur, as facts. That is what is important, in my opinion.
Per this particular comment, I just want to add something about the parallel to paper-printing technology. Again, it is a conceptual issue of what is a "machine. The idea of a "desktop printer", or a "Print-On-Demand" printer, is similar to that of a "3D Printer". It in itself is a consumer unit, that doesn't really address the technology inside. A desktop color laser printer has basically the same quality print engine as an in-line "book machine". What defines the ability to make a book is the right paper, the pre-press know-how, and in-line bindery functions. If someone knows InDesign and is willing to cut and bind a book by hand, they could indeed make a professional-quality book with a $300 desktop printer. It is because we, as both users and consumers, privilege the all-in-one process of the machine (despite the fact that book-machines aren't magic and are difficult to use with consistent quality) that we think of certain machine set-ups as having this singular ability, when actually the technology is a much wider field.
So when we say that consumers will always get better quality or speed or value by going to a "professional", weren't not really talking about the operator, the owner, or the technology itself, but we're talking about access to certain technologies, and the skills to use them all together. No offense to either of the commenters here, whose skills and experience are no doubt well-earned; but I think that while these skills will still be real and crucial, they will be, in the near future, distributed outside of "professional" industry. I'm saying this from my particular experience in paper printing. There is still a necessary investment in skill and equipment, but it is leaving the "industry". Coffee shops are getting bookmaking machines. Offices are getting bindery equipment. Individuals are learning to cloth-bind books, for no other reason than they want to do so. Perhaps this is a feature of the changing nature of "professionalism" in industry, or because of the cheapening of technology. But either way, it's interesting to watch.