Something Pete Rollins tweeted this morning got me thinking a bit:

“Often the problem we face is not a lack of enjoyment, but an inability to enjoy our enjoyment.”

I think this is a particular concern in a world where so much of our lives is now mediated. Rather than attend a party, we attend and tweet about it, and update our Facebook, and take photos of ourselves enjoying ourselves… It’s not a uniquely digital problem: we all know that the moment is punctured as soon as someone makes everyone aware of it by saying something like ‘this is the best fun I’ve had in ages!’ It was…until everyone thought about it. But with social media the problem is so much worse.

I think we are spending too much time concerned about convincing ourselves – and the invisible ‘others’ that we have in mind – that we are having a good time. So what becomes important is not having a good time, but recording the fact that we had a good time, in order for others to be sure that we did.

In a way, the urge to record something, to commit it to digital memory, suggests a fear that we will forget. But the recording is it’s own forgetting: because we are not ‘in’ the moment when we are mediating it to others, but thinking about recording it, we loose the memory and truth of it.

Without wanting to be too base, it’s analogous to having a mirrored ceiling in the bedroom, or feeling the need to record the act. It’s not enough to be there in the moment, to lose oneself with another person – there has to be some evidence, some external observation – even if that is yourself looking at yourself as in the mirror.

One might say that true pleasure has no reflection. To ramp this up and use a quantum parallel, true pleasure is mysterious and rich… as soon as it is observed, photographed, or reflected on ‘wow, we are having fun aren’t we!’ it is collapsed into something more narrow; more physically real, perhaps, but actually lessened by its reduction to three dimensions.

Unreported pleasure is perhaps a dying art. To simply enjoy, and not have to tell anyone… to be happy enough that it happened, and that memories will form and fail…

There are so many technology stories every week it can be hard to know what’s significant or not. But this piece on the BBC about a new sort of camera has kept me thinking all day, so I thought I’d blog something about it.

Put simply, the ‘Lytro’ camera – available for pre-order, but not yet out and user-tested – captures the entire ‘light field’ of a scene – all of the light travelling in every direction – meaning that the point of focus and depth of field can be changed any time after the shot has been taken. The video on the BBC site I think is the best explanation of it, but here is a CNET review too:

So why might this be interesting? I’ve lived through an extraordinary period where we’ve moved from totally analogue film to pure digital. You’ll know if you’ve read here at all that I’m keen to explore how our tools reshape us, as well as us shaping them – and the move to digital has had a profound effect. People expect to see images now, rather than waiting for them to be developed. But with this new development, are people going to have an expectation of being able to post-produce photographs too?

I’ll admit to being a little uneasy about aspects of this, or just a little sad. It feels as if the photograph as object is under threat – that photography is becoming entirely subjective – alterable by each viewer as they choose, rather than presented as a final exposed, controlled piece by the artist. Rather than me approaching a photograph – a finalised object, a slice of time frozen and preserved – and responding to it, it’s almost that the lytro-style photograph has to respond to me, which, forgive the pun, is a huge change of focus.

Perhaps there are general themes here beyond photography too. Is objectivity in final retreat? Must everything bow to the subjective? In the world of Facebook and other social media, is it becoming more problematic to make ‘real’ statements, or must we offer everything in a format that can then be manipulated and modified by others.

I’m not against interactivity, and not against it in art in any way. But I would still want to be able to hold on to the ability of an artist or writer to be able to make statements or produce objects that demand that the viewer or reader change in response to them, rather than the object or text having itself to morph to fit those who view them.

I’ve been reflecting a bit on the conversation about the ‘Year of Opposition’, and the comments in particular that dealt with gender imbalance.

What has really struck me about the above conversation is that all the voices are male. And I wonder whether the language of “thrashing things out” and the imagery of the boxing ring might have something to do with this? I had originally written that “the contributors can’t be held responsible for the lack of female participation” but on reflection, if the debate becomes couched in the language of aggression – which is often evident above – then they can. In my experience, a lot of women will simply walk away from that.

And:

As per the ‘year of opposition thread’ though, this is again pretty culturally blokeish. What I’m not sure about is whether that’s something it’s okay to indulge — perhaps only so if we critiqued the idea as we went. The way many blokes have come to be made has made them want to express their Christianity differently to women, who are a vast majority in churches. If those churches didn’t have a (continuing) history of sexism, we’d be allowed to be open about that. I can’t decide if it’s right to ignore it.

So here’s the question – which I mean very sincerely – if ‘blokes’ are ‘blokeish’ is it wrong to write posts that are ‘blokeish’? If I was a woman writing a blog, would she be expected to reduce her feminimity to make her site a place where men felt more comfortable to comment?

I think the point above (made by Simon Jones of Third Way) about the long history of sexism and patriarchy may be key: in order to bring balance we do need some affirmative action the other way. But… sometimes it just feels ‘wrong’ to be a man. Mark Driscoll I’m not, and I’m not about to go into the woods and bang a drum while wrestling a wart hog, but neither do I want to be ashamed of masculinity.

The question I’m not sure about is why women don’t post much on blogs, or submit so many applications to speak at events, or offer to write articles so much. Is this still part of a history of being oppressed, or is it something else? It seems to matter, because if it’s the latter, then perhaps men and organizations/publications need to feel less guilty about gender imbalance. On the other hand, balance is possible – and very refreshing when it happens. For a long time In Our Time have had extraordinarily balanced panels, and not gone about it at all. It’s subtle, but powerful.

Thanks to the various people who popped me Google+ invite… I’ve really not known whether to jump in, and would appreciate any thoughts people have had who have made the switch or tested the water.

The obvious issue is this: have Google made it worth it? If you are going to switch, do you do so completely – and leave Facebook behind, or do so partially and have another bloody set of pages and messages to check?

I read Emma by Jane Austen recently, and there’s a lovely passage where one Mr Frank Churchill goes to pay a visit on Mr Knightley. Mr Knightley is out, which causes Mr Churchill to be furious as he’d walked there across the fields, and Mr Knightley hadn’t even left a message with his housekeeper as to where he was. Austen was writing in her own time, rather than retrospectively, but she brilliantly captures the experience of the vast majority of humanity over history: our inability to mediate our presence. Without telephones, with a very limited postal service and no immediately convenient form of transport, one simply had to take one’s chances with going to visit.

The problem with social networks is that all of that serendipity is taken away… and the end result is the opposite of serenity: a huge anxiety that we might be missing something or someone. So we keep on checking. Just in case.

If there was a way to integrate these various platforms into one ‘inbox’ (is there – will someone say) – or if there is a killer reason why it would be good to switch to Google+, then I’d love to hear it. Picking up a new technology requires time for inhabitation. The question always is whether it’s worth the time and effort to move house.

With Other now out in the US and having been at Wild Goose and met a bunch of new people, I’ve been asked a fair bit ‘what are you working on now?’ Life is fairly complex to be honest, but here’s some of the things I’m working on at the moment:

Firstly, I’m working fairly intensively on a new novel. It’s set in Jaywick, a tiny sea-side resort on the coast of Essex which was recently rated the most deprived area in the UK. This has some personal connection as my great-grandfather bought the land in the 1920′s and created the village, initially as a bunch of beach-huts for holidays for people from the East End of London. It was wildly successful, but with the 2nd world war and other factors, it has fallen on very hard times. So the novel is, if you’ve read it, a bit of Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, set in Essex, and will draw in issues of contemporary poverty and dislocation, as well as a good dose of the British sea-side frontier spirit. My first novel – which tracks the breakdown and recovery of an English teacher in a tough London comprehensive – is currently with a big UK publisher, who I know like it… but that’s a long way from ‘yes!’ Fingers crossed.

In terms of my work in education, I’m consulting with the BBC at the moment on a new programme involving Mathematics in nature and culture which will be out in the Autumn. Can’t say much more about that right now, but looks great. I’m also exploring a lot to do with ‘mindfulness’ in the classroom, thinking about how to help kids to concentrate better in a fractured and distracting digital world. Lots of neuroscience, bit of meditation techniques etc.

And in my other writing, I’m researching a new book which will concentrate on ‘the commons.’ I’m convinced that we have something to learn from the twin failures of Communism and Christianity. The church has never properly taken on board people’s alienation from their labour, which Marx got so right, and Marx never understood alienation from ‘the Other’. What is common to both is, ironically, a core idea of a ‘commons’, which we need to reinvigorate – linking this to Zizek’s work on the radical early church community, and the terrible erosion of the commons that capitalism/protestantism has brought.

Linking with this, I’m also working hard on expanding the piracy thesis, and linking this with a dark inversion of the prodigal son story, which draws in some thoughts about why we so often see ‘big’ ministries fail so spectacularly. I’m not sure what to do with this yet, as it’s something I want to get out there, but it feels too long for a blog post… and what magazines are truly interested in something that draws in psychoanalysis, theology, philosophy, films, pirates and everything else? May be I need to start a magazine

So… busy times, complex times. Need about 50 more hours each day, or a very rich patron. But hopefully will all come good. Thanks for messages of support of the field I’m ploughing… Encouragement is so welcome!

Interesting video from the RSA called ‘A Defense of Humanity in the Age of the Computer’. Though the camerawork does look rather like a throwback to the 70s, it has some good angles on the Turing Test.

Put simply, you have a keyboard and a display. Questions come up, and you answer them, and can ask your own questions. A conversation develops. But can you tell if you are conversing with a machine or a person?

Alan Turing set out the framework for this decades ago, and predicted that a machine would be able to pass it by the year 2000. In other words, there would be a machine that would be able to fool a good proportion of people into thinking they were in dialogue with a person.

Here’s the interesting corollary though: if you were taking part in the experiment on the other side of the screen, how would you behave if you were trying to convince someone that you were a person?

The answer (ff to 9 mins in or so) is quite depressing: the person who scored most highly – ie was rated ‘most likely to be a person’ by the various participants who were put in conversation – said that their tactic was to be ‘rude, irritable, and obnoxious.’

The follow-on question then is, should programmers respond and, in pursuit of victory, make their entrant computers more miserable and curmudgeonly. It might be a nice change from the uber-positive crap we get from most website. Hello! Wow, it’s SO nice to see you! Yep, I’d LOVE to have your username and password! Ohhh… piss off, just fetch me the page, server.

Thanks to @designbygecko for putting me on to this extraordinary talk by Jim Gilliam at a web conference recently. Jim was brought up a fervent evanglical – and remains so, except that his faith is now truly in the Internet.

He has his reasons for his conversion: he’s suffered multiple cancers and had to have bone marrow and dual-lung transplants, and each step of the way it was other people on the web who pushed for him to be given access to procedures, campaigned for him and gave him encouragement.

Gilliam is serious: the internet is his religion. He believes fervently in its power to build a new world, by connecting people together and giving them a voice and an opportunity to create.

God is what happens when humanity is connected. Humanity connected is God. Each one of us is a creator, but together we are THE creator.

A couple of things I’d want to say about this. Firstly, it connects quite well with Zizek’s view of Christianity. He proposes that in the crucifixion we see the actual death of God, and it is then in the community of the Spirit (who like Google will, as John 14:26 puts is, teach you all things and remind you of everything I’ve said ) who become the risen Christ – embodying God on earth in Marxist collectives.

Marx’s contention was that we are alienated from our labour, and this fits well with Gilliam’s vision, because he sees the internet as the way for us to rid ourselves of this alienation and become fulfilled people. As Zizek put it in First as Tragedy, Then as Farce:

Enclosure of the commons is a process of proletarianization of those who are excluded from their own substance… The present conjecture compels us to radicalise it to an existential level well beyond Marx’s imagination.

In this sense, the internet is one way of radicalising the commons to a level that would have been beyond Marx’s imagination. What I am convinced about is that the route out of our capitalist malaise is via a reinvigoration of ‘the commons’ in its broadest sense: we need to rediscover what it means to share a common life, to act communally and regularly beat down enclosures where we see them encroaching on the common ground which is the theatre within which community life is lived.

But I have my doubts about Gilliam’s internet fervency. Perhaps he is more right than he believes: the internet is rather like a religion, and is thus open to serious power abuse and practices of disinformation. What appears to be ‘free’ and ‘abundant life’ can actually a whole lot of wasted time getting anxious on Facebook, or trying to pump some deadened hashtag into life.

Whereas Gilliam believes the internet will redeem people, unshackle them and allow them to reach their potential, I believe that only other people can do that. The web can inspire people to great acts of altruism, but it can also drag people into grand selfishness and vanity. It is, in other words, only a technology, and, as such, it deserves our worship only as much as a golden calf.

The things the web achieves boil down to connecting people because community structures have failed. The web couldn’t save Gilliam’s life, only an actual donor could do that. So what we should celebrate is community and generosity, rather than modes of connection.

If you watch to the end of the video, I think you may detect a level of discomfort with Gilliam’s ending, and the applause is slightly tinted with sympathy, rather than easy acceptance. I think that this suggests a deep-rooted reflexive skepticism of the internet as saviour. Gilliam’s story is emotionally charged, but we should be careful not to give ourselves to a new religion on the basis of a few ‘signs and wonders.’

Good health to him, and all the best for his start-ups, which look to increase activism and political engagement. But while the internet can help us engage, as I’ve said here before, I’m convinced that it works best only as a tool for arranging physical engagement between actual people.

The net may be a sacrament, but it is not God. God’s ‘absence’ – however we interpret that – has left a troubling hole in our sense of self and community. The net has grown to fill some of that, but we need to be careful.

The debacle over super-injunctions and ‘An Un-named Premiership Footballer‘ Ryan Giggs’ misdemeanours has raised interesting questions about truth and privacy in the age of social networks.

The super-injunction dissolved because Giggs’ name got so widely spread via Twitter, and by a newspaper outside of English jurisdiction. But are we the better for it?

We might be, but I think the key question here is if the ‘whole truth’ is always desirable. I’ve written here before about my concerns over the desperate search for objective truth – especially in relation to theology. While I consider objective truth to exist, I don’t believe we can ever have access to it, because we can never know the full story.

This is my concern over the use of Twitter to ‘expose the truth.’ What truth exactly is it exposing? What seems clear is that the truth Twitter and the tabloid press has been after has simply been the tawdry facts of a footballer and a 2-bit reality TV ‘star.’ What these media are not interested in is the context, and the potential stories behind the story. The whole truth, in other words.

The same principle might be applied to Wikileaks: it is better to have everything out in the open? Is that always the most sensitive thing to do? My worry is that people may think that they are getting the whole truth, but this is simply not possible, so what appears to be a great exposure of the truth of a situation will still leave things untold.

Given that we must accept that this ‘whole truth’ is going to be inaccessible to us, what should we do? Should we accept super-injunctions without question? No. Definitely not. Because it seems in some cases they are being used as a tool for the powerful to suppress information that there is genuine public interest in knowing. But should we accept the media’s position of unlimited exposure? Definitely not too. The motivations behind a lot of these ‘soldiers for clarity and freedom of the press’ are often monetary, and less than savoury.

I very much doubt whether those who have casually tweeted names have given serious thought to the wider and deeper stories that might be going on behind the scenes, and that has played into the hands of the money-grubbers at The Sun, who simply want to make money from salacious public frenzy.

Dirty business, all of it.

Tragic story been on the news about the guy who died falling from a seventh floor balcony while attempting to has his photo taking ‘blanking’ on the railing. It was 5cm wide.

One of my first thoughts was this: only in our internet age.

For those who don’t know what it is – as I didn’t until the story came up – planking is when you lie on your stomach in an unusual or risky place, get someone to take a photo, and share it online.

A typcial planking photo is thus one almost devoid of emotion or facial expression, in high contrast to the strange or risky environment they are in. A planking photo says this: despite my extraordinary context, I am flat, I am deadened, I am board/bored.

But that’s not the whole story. Because planking is about sharing within the community. It is about gaining kudos for more extreme posts, and feeling a sense of belonging for those with a shared passion for…planking?

Planking is thus the internet rage par excellence. It neatly combines a critique of the mind-crashing boredom and tedium of everyday life with the richness of our world and ability to co-operate that the net provides.

More accurately, it is part of the huge tide of irony that the web has released. Irony is about creating a ‘sharp incongruity or discordance that goes beyond the simple and evident intention of words or actions.‘ It is about implying meaning that has the direct opposite to the apparent meaning. This is convenient, because it means that we can imply enjoyment of a particular thing, without being committed to saying we actually enjoy it. Take the photo above. To simply post a photo of the landscape and say ‘I love it’ would possibly open the person to derision. It’s too strong to have stated an actual opinion. Better to create and ironic shot – to bring a bored and flat planking person into it – which then leaves the question open: do I like it, or am I just bored by it?

It’s the same with retro music. We can ‘ironically’ dance to 80′s music because this means leaving our options open: we like it, but only because we dislike it. This is something I see in class all the time: the inability of children to nail their opinions to the mast.

The end result of all this: we are left precariously on a 5cm balcony, 7 floors up, unable to simply appreciate the view, and desperate to be viewed. It’s a risky place, as one poor guy found out.

I’ve recently come across the WordPress plug-in WPBook. I think it’s great, and if you are a WordPress user and have a readership on Facebook too, I’d highly recommend it.

Basically, WPBook means that posts you want will be posted in full to a Facebook app, and comments that are made on FB or your WordPress site will be reflected across both platforms. This, I think, is the key reason I went for it as it can be frustrating when people start commenting and conversing on two separate sites without proper integration. Obviously this requires people to agree to using the app, so we’ll see how that goes.

Once you’ve installed it, you are guided through the process of setting up a Facebook app, which is fairly simple but requires some attention to detail – so follow the instructions carefully. Then it’s a pretty straight-forward set-up, and the settings are fairly self-explanatory.

I’ve not got a Facebook ‘page’ as such – can’t really say I like them – so I’m hoping that the App will allow people to follow this blog right from within Facebook. Be good to know how people find it.

I also use the plug-in WP to Twitter, which creates a tweet from your post, which you can fully customise within the ‘new post’ page. I also have ‘Selective Tweets‘ activated on Facebook, which means that tweets with a #fb tag are automatically posted to my wall too. Ideally I’ll be able to stop using that for actual blog posts, as people will get notifications from the app, but we’ll just see how things pan out.

Anyway, hope there’s something helpful for people – and if you’ve got a better system going, or think FB pages are better than apps, would love to hear it.