I've always been a fussy eater. Peas? Fish? A slab of plain chocolate? Gag.* In a commendable but largely unsuccessful ploy to get me to eat such gag-inducing items, my parents frequently delivered the line of how ungrateful me should just think of Those Poor Children In Africa who would die for my discarded plate of peas and fish. Noted, Poor Children In Africa, but I just don't like peas or fish, or chocolate. I'd gladly give them to you if I could. Also, whilst we're in this hypothetical and quixotic dialogue, how did you come to enter the performative politics of my parents' diction, let alone my fussy eating habits? Dear Children in Africa who would die for my plate of peas and fish, who are we to appropriate your sociopolitical demographics in our discussions concerning personal political opinions (This is a democracy, Mother, therefore, no, I will not eat the peas and fish, but thank you for your input)? Do you talk of Those Poor Children in Britain who would just die for your plate of chocolate? Because you're misinformed. I wouldn't die for your chocolate, sorry.
Does this innocent appropriation of politics, with a multitude of suffixes attached on front (geopolitics, international politics, etc.), into a normative performance by You and I stretch beyond the innocence of my personal food politics (Peace Not Peas!), or, is political discussion the violated territory of Them (the politicians, the journalists, the victims, the perpetrators, the in-the-know people) by Us? I came across someone's statement on Tumblr where they touched upon performative politics in a diatribe against the 'commodification' of grief and outrage again the other day, having previously saved it for future reference, and, currently being in France surrounded by a multitude of EU flags on the backs of every car that passes on the road, scratched stickers of solidarity with Je Suis Charlie plastered onto the tilted walls in our small village and shadows of the recent terrorist attacks in the presence of armed soldiers patrolling the beaches, I can't help but question its point.
"To see with one's own eyes, to feel and judge without succumbing to the suggestive power of the fashion of the day, to be able to express what one has seen and felt in a snappy sentence or even in a cunningly wrought word - is that not glorious? Is it not a proper subject for congratulation?"
- Albert Einstein, Congratulations to a Critic
The grand soliloquy of a social media outpouring expressing disgust, indignation and solidarity has become an expected part of the rhetoric surrounding major political fiascos or international disasters. Scene setting: an abstract disaster in a removed place from your immediate vicinity, reported in the media. Enter scene: three morose characters. Character 1: the long, heartfelt discourse published on Facebook and vigorously supported with 'likes' (or, more recently, angry faces). Character 2: the extended tweets following succinctly (1), (2) and (3), one after the other, one set of of 140 characters insufficient for the emotively orated speech. Character 3: the novel-esque caption on Instagram, replete with an edgy shot and edgy filter #prayforparis #prayfortheworld #jesuischarlie. Scene change: an abstract character sitting in front of a laptop, scouring through their social media. Enter scene: a single, invigorated character, who turns to the audience to deliver the concluding soliloquy.
“I hate that social media has commodified performative grief and outrage to the point that every f******* person thinks that every tragedy that happens needs to be addressed by them, personally. I hate that there’s an expectation that everyone make some grand statement and that if you don’t do it, you must be heartless or hate the victims. We’re not all celebrities or politicians. Not every voice needs to be heard at all times. The world probably doesn’t NEED anyone’s take if it doesn’t contain new information. Processing things silently isn’t bad and it doesn’t make anyone a bad person and I honestly prefer it to a lot of the self-serving bullshit you see when something awful happens in the world. I fall into that trap. Most people do. It’s shit and it produces a lot of shit sentiment. “WHY AREN’T PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS?!” is my least favourite sentence in the world right now. Most people, when it comes to tragedy, have nothing to say. Most involved people, in these circumstances, should say less.”**
I've never myself been one of these characters, though my blog is, in its own way, an echo of such situated commentaries. And, whilst I may not post them, I do read them, I do 'like' them and, significantly, I think them. And why post them? Why vocalise your indignance at some abstract injustice? Does it do anything? Though I agree that performative grief and outrage has been commodified by social media to the extent that any- and everyone offers their own soliloquy to the scene, I take a more lenient view on the sentiment "WHY AREN'T PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS?!". The base fact is, no matter how trite their observations or egotistic the intentions behind their comments, the simple act of composing and sharing such thoughts about current affairs shows that they're engaging with what the media is feeding them. They're questioning, moulding, thinking. The appropriation of grief and outrage takes place before its popular consumption in these publications, by 'celebrities or politicians' and other journalistic actors who first interpret and publish (or enact) the events.
Take the recent #BREXIT vote in the UK. My timeline was full of outpourings of rage and disgust at the vote to leave the EU, which felt like a doomsday bell ringing in an unlikely alternate universe. According to a number of sources, the top Google search result post-vote was an inquiry into what, precisely, we'd just voted to leave. Would people have voted the same way had they realised the reality of the situation and weight of their vote with the same sentiments gathered post-Brexit held pre-vote? Who knows. But it's obvious that the same discussion which erupted out of the vote was lacking pre-vote. What these outpourings promote is discussion, and I in no way think that discussion is unhealthy or in any way, within reason, a "shit sentiment". When I would critique it is when the soliloquising of thoughts turns into the imposing of one's own opinions onto others, brandishing others as wrong, ill-informed and ignorant. Where the motive is to inform further or engage with the abstract problem, however, I think situated discussions have the potential to deconstruct formal politics into a more accessible abstract.
"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."
- Desmond Tutu
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Some of the arguably "shit sentiment" may however be borne of the mindless reposting of commodified solidarity. #prayforparis, the rebuttal to #prayfortheworld, #jesuischarlie, #prayforTurkey, #prayforOrlando and the multitude of other hashtags, along with the trend of changing your social media profile picture to one with the faded flag of whatever nation is concerned with the contemporary tragedy superimposed on top, certainly stem from innocent and commendable motives, but with their spread they become performative in a commodified way. First, they're reposted primarily under the motive that to be seen not joining in with this display of solidarity would be conceived of as heartless and reflecting your own bad conscience/character/etc. No longer are they an artefact of performative politics expressing consolation for victims and support for the victimised (be this country, demographic or whatever is relevant), but a commodity of post-politics where they reflect more the user than the subject. Second, they don't do anything. I hate this kind of blasé critique so am loathe to make it myself, but beyond the sentiment behind such demonstrations of attention to the situation, this way of addressing it achieves little and often excuses action on behalf of the poster. I give less weight to the second critique given that large collectivities of sentiment can be the very force needed to encourage and promote action, but where partaking in such a showing of sentiment is used to excuse action of one's behalf, it's a useless token of appropriated politics.
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I think it's a reflection of the contemporary time and age that part of our reaction and processing of a 'tragedy' is an expressive outpouring on social media. Not everyone alone can act to address a situation. Not everyone agrees unanimously or perfectly on everything. No single person, no matter if they are a 'celebrity or politician' (which is a completely farcical statement of superior motive, the label in no way automatically granting the relevant person supreme understanding), holds absolute, irrefutable, objective knowledge and perception of every situation. But collectively, together, these fragmented voices form a discussion which, democratically, brings greater understanding and a sounder platform for action. Provided we don't egotistically assume personal superiority of insight and judgement, or appropriate the illusion of such for personal identity and perceived appraisal, the promotion of discussion around current affairs is surely preferable to silence? Along this line of thought, Orwell wrote that 'the great enemy of clear language is insincerity [for] when there is a gap between one's real and one's declared aims, one turns as it were instinctively to long words and exhausted idioms, like a cuttlefish spurting out ink'. So, beyond the commodified hashtags and profile pictures, and the lengthy, over-articulated statements announcing oneself as a selfless, well-informed, superior citizen-of-the-world (when really you're a cuttlefish spurting out ink), discussing and sharing opinions of events should not be dismissed automatically as "shit".
At least it demonstrates a supportive stance to the victim, rather than the perpetrators.
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Which brings us back to my pea idiom (Peace Not Peas!) and allegory of fussy eating. What, exactly, makes these events current 'affairs'? One definition offered by the OED describes an 'affair' as 'a matter that is a particular person's concern or responsibility', that is, 'matters of public interest and importance'. In the very act of reporting and discussing them, we appropriate events through the interpretation we give them; they become ours in that we choose the lens through which to see them, the language through which to construct the hero(ine) and the adversary, the imagery through which to purport action. They are relocated from the abstract into a language which is familiar and achieves a deliberate perspective. This is not to question the act of reporting and the role of News itself in any way, but the way in which this is construed. I want to pose some questions which I've deliberated upon countless times and as am yet to come to a conclusion or substantial opinion about.
Are we right to give so much attention to the perpetrators of events such as terrorist attacks? Should we not focus instead upon the victims and how we stand against such adversaries? Does placing the focus on the perpetrators and substantially quoting them/using their propaganda to flesh out the skeleton of our story etc. not merely further their own work (for instance by spreading their ideology and publicly labelling them as legitimate)? Ought current affairs concern the good more than the bad? What is the purpose of the media? To objectively report on events (but no one can be objective, and if they attempt to be so, is that really right?)? Or to discuss them? Or to incite action? Is the media performative towards itself in a cyclical appropriation of earlier discourse?
For a situated exploration, read 'Fighting Words: How media coverage of ISIS endangers public consciousness' by Stephanie Kelley, in The Oxonian Globalist, February 2015
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I still don't like peas, or fish, or chocolate (though I admit to not being immune to the temptation of nuts, raisins or other such foods covered in chocolate), but the incantation of Those Poor Children In Africa doesn't have the desired effect of guilt-eating on me. It merely provokes a defence of the appropriation of Africa/ns by Western society for petty politics in a performative way. The oration of which, by the way, is a great means to distract from the uneaten peas and fish on your plate. It's a win, win.
Remember - peace, not peas.
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**Sourced from jonahryan on tumblr.com
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