Monday, 1 March 2021

Future Communications (from the past)

 

Future Communications

Consider, with reference to both the portrayal of communications and the media, and the way writers/directors use their own medium. 

 


Cable video, and similar techniques involving the interaction of television, telephone and home computer may be with us by the 1990s. Shopping could be done from the home, ordered by this system and delivered to the door, and one would be able to talk to famous personalities on television as if they were in the room. Is this desirable? Increased technology of communication and the media is surely broadening and liberating, but, ironically, it can also be cocooning and manipulative. Science fiction writers tend to deal with the latter aspect, and so ‘fiction’ becomes a complex term to use: where the writers are using fiction to communicate something about fiction as communication, as well as the notions of fiction and reality in other forms of communication, such as the media. If the term ‘fiction’ in writing is obfuscating as much as it is defining, then it must be borne in mind that the failure to communicate is very much part of the issue.

So, pending nuclear holocaust, the four-wall TV of Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 could be with us by the year 2000. Fahrenheit 451 is set in the more distant future, about 2500, but technologically, though not philosophically, it is almost here.

‘Well, this is a play comes on the wall-to-wall circuit in ten minutes. They mailed me my part this morning. I sent in some box-tops.’

The script for the play is performed with one part missing which is to be performed by Mildred Montag in the home. The object, quite laudably, is to have fun rather than create great drama. The questions asked of the Helen role in the play are banal: ‘he says, “Do you agree to that, Helen?” and I say, “I sure do!” Isn’t that fun, Guy?’

The play is not really about anything, it exists as participative entertainment, not very stimulating but on the face of it harmless.

‘What’s the play about?’

‘I just told you. There are these people named Bob and Ruth and Helen.’

The lack of content in itself is not as sinister as the television’s ability to dominate the lives of ‘Mildred Montag’s. She has the sole consuming ambition in life of obtaining a fourth wall, she is an addict, she lives for the escapism offered by the TV.

‘If we had a fourth wall, why it’d be just like this room wasn’t ours at all, but all kinds of exotic people’s rooms.’

The TV dominates conversation and social groupings, people do not want to talk, if they do, it is not about the imminent war but about TV.

‘That reminds me’, said Mildred. ‘Did you see that Clara Dove fir-minute romance last night in your wall? Well, it was all about this woman who…’

Also the banality of the TV scripts has an effect on language making conversation as banal and repetitive.

‘I’m not worried’, said Mrs Phelps. ‘I’ll let Pete do all the worrying.’ She giggled. ‘I’ll let old Pete do all the worrying. Not me. I’m not worried.’

But the TV fails to placate the individuals completely; suicide and murder are quite common. The portrayal of violence as entertainment leads to its acceptance as a hobby. Shooting and running people over become commonplace. One would not have thought the powers that be would allow TV to produce anti-social behaviour. TV is not portrayed in the book, therefore, as an instrument of propaganda, at least not until the end with the televised chase of Montag. School children attend TV class and work training is done by film but Bradbury does not fully exploit the politically manipulative capabilities of television.

In this scenario books have been reduced in significance as radio and television developed. They are mass media reaching a greater number of people than ever before as population increases exponentially. The literary elite had to be discarded and the mass catered for by ‘a sort of pudding paste norm’. Not only films, radio programmes and magazines but also any remaining books have to be geared towards ‘’the gag, the snap ending’.

‘Classics cut to fit fifteen minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two minute book column, winding up at last as a ten or twelve line dictionary résumé.’

Eventually the cultural input/output, where self-expression is a less operative term, becomes what Beatty describes as ‘Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom!’ This progression has been brought about by popular consent, not by an oppressive government. Controversy and obscurity have been avoided in order to gain the largest possible market.

‘There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship to start with. No! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God.’

When Beatty refers to minority pressure this is not the pressure to cater for the interests of cultural minorities, it is the avoidance of offending particular minority sections of society by controversial or unpleasant portrayals of real people in their real social context. Instead a bland, anonymous, fantasy type is used to represent all human beings, and becomes their image of themselves. The argument against books, as one might expect, is weak and vague, although Beatty, like Mustapha Mond in Brave New World, is armed to the hilt with more quotations than a scholar.

‘Beatty rubbed his chin. A man named Latimer said that to a man named Nicholas Ridley, as they were being burnt alive at Oxford, for heresy, on October 16, 1555.’

But whereas Mustapha Mond’s knowledge is counteracted by John, Montag is a singularly weak and confused individual. Perhaps it is this that makes him easier to identify with as a character than the forceful, increasingly insane, Savage. Montag does not quote Shakespeare at every turn, that is left to Beatty.

‘Why don’t you belch Shakespeare at me, you fumbling snob? “There s no terror, Cassius, in your threats, for I am arm’d so strong in honesty that they pass by me as an idle wind, which I respect not!”’

Beatty provides educated disdain but little argument, whilst the ‘videots’ merely break down and cry at the mere mention of poetry.

‘I’ve always said, poetry and tears, poetry and suicide and crying and awful feelings, poetry and sickness.’

Unfortunately Bradbury’s narrative style does not have the power that made Mrs. Phelps sob uncontrollably. There is a nice touch in the film version where one of the book people is a Ray Bradbury novel; indeed the book is soundly written, but not challenging, perhaps because, rather than in spite of, the fact that it is appealing to conventional and reactionary means of communication. In all fairness Bradbury is not claiming to be Shakespeare, there are too many clichés of ‘50s, and other, science fiction, such as the oppressive governmental control and cultural dark age with its sect of civilised guardians of knowledge. An attempt to write a Shakespearean epic could only end in parody, a more useful project might be to parody the conventions of ‘50s science fiction.

‘For a delicious tea snack, try young harmoniums rolled into tubes and filled with Venusian cottage cheese.’

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.’s The Sirens of Titan can be accused of being trite and vacuous, but therein lies its strength. The Sirens of Titan is trite and vacuous with tremendous style and panache.

The sentences are short.

The paragraphs are short.

They get to the point.

‘On he came, the flashes from Chrono’s knife dazzling him.

“Please,” he said.

A rock flew out of the knife’s dazzle.

Salo ducked.

A hand seized his bony throat, threw him down.’

This extract is relatively sophisticated, descriptive and metaphorical. Elsewhere the narrative takes on a newspaper-like, literal presentation.

‘The war between Mars and Earth lasted 67 Earthling days.

Every nation on Earth was attacked.

Earth’s casualties were 149,315 killed, 446 wounded, 11 captured, and 46,364 missing.

At the end of the war, every Martian had been killed, wounded, captured, or missing.’

The purpose of this style seems to be twofold: to increase the reader’s credulity by presenting things in a factual style, and to increase pace and pleasure in reading by avoiding overlong and convoluted sentences and paragraphs, the essay writer’s stock-in-trade, with all their scantily connected clauses and sub-clauses, often irrelevant and pointless additions of subjects and predicates, and awkward train of thought, resulting in strained grammar, using commas, where full stops would be preferable. To this must be added, though not, thankfully, in the same sentence, the overriding purpose of satirizing the presentation of pseudo-facts as a viable means of gaining credability, and the style of language in science fiction.

‘All persons, places, and events in this book are real. Certain speeches and thoughts are necessarily constructions by the author.’

‘Winston Niles Rumfoord had run his private space ship right into the heart of an uncharted chrono-synclastic infundibulum two days out of Mars.’

As well as ‘the following is a true story’ and the everyday problems of uncharted chrono-synclastic infundibula, another device is used: the quotation from fictitious texts with which the reader is supposed to be familiar. Dune by Frank Herbert, though later, can be taken as representative of this trend. Again, it seems a technique to suspend disbelief through putting the book in the context of other books about the ‘historical’ events. Whereas Herbert utilises this technique for philosophical pearls of wisdom and background information that cannot be contained in the narrative, Vonnegut provides pseudo-profundities and whimsical irrelevances.

‘Sometimes I think it is a great mistake to have matter that can think and feel. It complains so. By the same token, though, I suppose that boulders and mountains and moons could be accused of being a little too phlegmatic.’

– WINSTON NILES RUMFOORD

‘I am at a loss to understand why German batball is not an event, possibly a key event, in the Olympic Games.’

– WINSTON NILES RUMFOORD

Vonnegut does not confine himself to starting each chapter with references to ‘exterior’ sources, he uses the books in the text, and discussing their relative merits and popularity.

‘The best-selling book in recent times has been the Winston Niles Rumfoord Authorized Revised Bible. Next in popularity is that delightful forgery, The Beatrice Rumfoord Galactic Cookbook. The third most popular…’

Books obviously still play a part in Vonnegut’s vision of the future, though their literary style may be somewhat different. There is little discussion of communications in general, or its manipulative potential, but mention may be made of the methods by which Rumfoord controlled the Martians, and of Salo’s mission.

‘At the hospital they even had to explain to Unk that there was a radio antenna under the crown of his skull, and that it would hurt him whenever he did something a good soldier wouldn’t ever do.’

The Martian army is controlled by radio antennae, which give orders and even furnishes marching, “rented a tent”, drum music. Civilians, too, are controlled by this method of communication turned instrument of control. Salo, the loveable machine from Tralfamadore, is sent on a mission across the universe with the simple message: ‘Greetings’. His ship breaks down on Titan, and it transpires that the evolution of mankind has been altered, and some of its finest achievements have simply been to carry messages about replacement parts between Salo and Tralfamadore.

‘The Great Wall of China means in Tralfamadorian, when viewed from above: “Be patient. We haven’t forgotten you.”’

Of course this is a notion that would appeal to Vonnegut, that the crowning structures of earth’s civilisations and cultures were commonplace communications of an alien civilisation; that we are, in effect, somebody else’s words.

Words play an important role in Jean-Luc Godard’s film Alphaville. In Alphaville certain words have been eliminated from the language, though, disappointingly, we are given no new words, or any words that have significantly altered their meaning. In every room there is a Bible, which turns out to be a dictionary of all usable words. The dictionary is constantly updated, undesirable concepts being eliminated, such as conscience and love. Sensuality suffices for love, conscience is not replaced. The secret agent sent to Alphaville from the Outer Countries knows these words but unfortunately he does not seem to understand them. The people of Alphaville also use simple set phrases, indicating a certain loss of ability in the use of language.

‘I’m fine, don’t mention it.’

Mind you, such phrases already exist, and probably always have done. Other phrases are more indicative of the mentality.

‘Never say “why”, say “because”.’

The system is based on causal logic which is already established, further researches are discouraged – the system must not be questioned, there are public executions for such “illogicality”. The story is a conventional one of the old values versus the abuse of technology, though the film takes pains to point out the faults and paradoxes of the hero’s role. Be that as it may, the hero talks poetry and ideals while the computer assimilates data and “eliminates” undesirable elements in Von Braum’s power scheme. Apart from the dramatic use of styles of language, great use is made of visual contrasts. Light, e=mc², in particular, is used. Many of the scenes with the agent are dark, perhaps with a single naked bulb, punctuated by the flash of his camera. The computer, on the other hand, is often shown as a bright light, making the subtitles impossible to read. Alphaville is supposed to exist on artificial light, complete with artificial dawns, but natural light is seen towards the end of the film, around the same time as the inhabitants are suffocating from lack of artificial light. Yet artificial light is still seen, and earlier the difference between the north and south zones are described as where the sun shines and it is summer, and where it is winter. Perhaps the sun, like their dawn, is artificial. Some of the scenes towards the end of the film go into negative, it can be associated with the breakdown of Alphaville but actually starts before Von Braum is shot. The effect of this use of light relies on the fact that the film is shot in black and white, at a time, 1965, when it could easily have been made in colour. It was not an insufficient budget that made Godard avoid elaborate sets and use cars instead of spaceships. He must have wanted to show that interesting and dramatic visual effects could be made, and made meaningful, without hours of old Airfix kit parts fixed on to egg cartons floating about to the strains of the Blue Danube. Kubrick obviously did not take his advice, 2001 is not about the economic and concise use of visual effects, and it is certainly not about the plot, or dialogue, or character development.

Plot, dialogue and character development is present in The Atrocity Exhibition by J.G. Ballard, but, as the title suggests, it is eclipsed by a list of images. These images are conceived in the manner of experiments to determine the traumas of the psyche involved in a conceptual World War III.

‘What we are concerned with now are the implications – in particular, the complex of ideas and events represented by World War III. Not the political and military possibility, but the inner identity of such a notion.’

Many of the images are taken from the media, others from art, others rely on a pun on ‘auto-erotic.’

‘The simulated newsreels of auto-crashes and Vietnam atrocities (an apt commentary on her own destructive sexuality) illustrated the scenario of World War III on which the students were ostensibly engaged.’

War films and newsreels, and popular political and film personalities who died, like J.F. Kennedy, Jayne Mansfield, James Dean, or are conceived of as dying, are shown to have a marked erotic content. The concept is comparable to Burroughs’ ‘orgasm death’ constructed around the effects of hanging. The above examples died in cars and the association of death and sex is coupled with the sexual imagery and bravado associated with cars.

‘It is clear that the car crash is seen as a fertilising rather than a destructive experience, a liberation of sexual and machine libido, mediating the sexuality of those who have died with an erotic intensity impossible in any other form.’

Most of these experiments are conducted using visual media, and the visual arts and architecture are also emphasised. Thus both commenting on the visual media, for example the sexual effect of J.F. Kennedy’s televised assassination, and altering the use of language to increase the visual content. Artists mentioned are Max Ernst, Salvador Dali, Auguste Rodin, Oscar Dominguez, Marcel Duchamp, Douanier Rousseau, Yves Tanguy, Giorgio de Chirico, Francis Bacon and Andy Warhol. Andy Warhol’s silkscreen death images are particularly apt, many of the others are Surrealists and therefore fit the idea of bringing together seemingly disparate images by the associations of ‘pure psychic automatism’. The angles, volumes and forms of Travis and Catherine Austin in the act of love making.

‘Later, the sexual act between them became a hasty eucharist of the angular dimensions of the apartment. In the postures they assumed, in the contours of thigh and thorax, Travis explored the geometry and volumetric time of the bedroom, and later of the curvilinear dome of the Festival Hall, the jutting balconies of the London Hilton, and lastly of the abandoned weapons range.’

Travis’ sensitivity to the volumes and geometry of the visual environment is translated into physiological and psychological terms, and of course into verbal terms; the imbalance and asymmetry he sees, represents in his mind final self-destruction, setting World War 3 firmly in the present time and space continuum. Sex and violence is associated through the media (which has since become a catchphrase) in the presentation of war, cult figures and car advertisements. The conjunction of the visual and verbal in the media sets off a parallel conjunction in the book: the reader proceeds from one headed section to another is if from one picture to the next at an exhibition, entering another room of the gallery at the end of each chapter.

In Ronald DeFeo’s Modern Occasions he says, ‘William Burroughs is dim-witted, undisciplined, incoherent, self-indulgent, dull and totally pointless. In short, trash. If any Burroughs must be remembered in our literature, I’d rather it be Edgar Rice.’

Leaving the truth or non-truth of that statement behind, the ability to provoke such criticism is, in itself, an indication of an interesting writer. Burroughs invites polarised opinions partly because he is using words against words.

‘In the beginning was the word and the word was bullshit.’

Burroughs conceives “the word” as a virus which has invaded the human body and psyche; it is a living parasitic organism, the word invaded the flesh.

‘The word may once have been a healthy neural cell. It is now a parasitic organism that invades and damages the central nervous system.’

If you try halting your sub-vocal speech and attain inner silence, you will encounter a force that resists, that force is the word. Words condition all our experience, what we see is dictated by what we hear described, word begets image. Burroughs suggests a simple experiment of verification. By using a recorded sound track played over a different TV film.

‘You will find that the arbitrary soundtrack seems to be appropriate…people running for a bus in Piccadilly with a soundtrack of machine-gun fire looks like 1917 Petrograd.’

The media manipulates word and image, which in turn manipulates the population.

‘It is the presumed right of all governmental agencies to decide what words and images the citizen is permitted to see – that is thought control since thought consists largely of word and image.’

Censorship is the self-righteous face of this control, but it is merely the negative side of the positive attempt to “sublimate” people’s individuality to a levelling regime.

‘(Newspapers, magazines, muttering voices on TV and radio – birth and death and the human condition – always been that way and always will – Besides you can’t do anything – Don’t stick your neck out – Don’t get ulcers)’

Burroughs conceives of his writing as some sort of guerrilla counterattack to the media. If normal linguistic habits are roads and bridges into the human consciousness, as Tony Tanner suggests in his City of Words, then Burroughs is trying to sabotage the lines of communication that the occupying army would otherwise use. Thus, paradoxically, he uses words against words, and media techniques against the media.

‘The underground press serves as the only effective counter to a growing power and more sophisticated techniques used by establishment mass media to falsify, misrepresent, misquote, rule out of consideration as a priori ridiculous or simply ignore and blot out of existence: data, books, discoveries that they consider prejudicial to establishment interest.’

Burroughs is vague on who “they” are, perhaps “we” would be a more responsible term, but governmental agencies such as the CIA may plausibly be referred to as “they”. The techniques of countering “control” involve scrambling news items, interspersing political speeches with unpleasant noises or images, falsifying events in whole or part, and reporting events before they happen to make them happen,

‘anyone with a tape recorder controlling the soundtrack can influence and create events’.

His favourite techniques seems to be the tape recorder, with spliced tapes or tape cut-ups.

‘Everybody splice himself in with everybody else. Communication must be total. Only way to stop it.’

Burroughs objective seems to be total communication, but that can also mean silence, leaving the machines to argue everything out. Either way the monopoly is broken. Tape cut-ups or what L. Lipton calls “phonomontage” is nothing new, but its appliance to narrative technique, if narrative is the right word, is something of a breakthrough.

‘Certainly if writing is to have a future it must at least catch up with the past and learn to use the techniques that have been used for some time past in painting, music and film.’

One of the stories behind the origin of cut-ups is that Brian Gysin was cutting a mount for a drawing and sliced through a pile of newspapers. Without doubt though, the development of cut-ups shows external influence from other media, for example the Berlin Dadaists’ cutting up of newspapers in their photomontages, having both visual and verbal “cut-ups”. Burroughs also uses a Fold-in Method.

‘It is done by folding one text down the middle and laying it on another text and reading across so that you have half one text and half another’.

He has also experimented with a newspaper/magazine derived technique where three columns of narrative are presented side by side, thus transcending the usual page format with three streams of concurrent narrative. Visual elements are also used. Ah Pook Is Here is a picture book modelled on the surviving Mayan codices, though never published as such, and The Book Of Breeething contains visual passages as well as extolling the virtues of hieroglyphs.



Burroughs’ writing is essentially different from that of Joyce, whereas Joyce would make free associations between words that help us to experience the writer’s consciousness, Burroughs breaks associations between words taking the objective element of chance. The machine splices the data and experience, and we are free to make our own associations, but it is not completely ‘blind prose’ (Burroughs’ term), since we are still given a fairly clear indication of his personal ideas and views.

The media are generally regarded as providing addictive propaganda or “junk” in both senses of the term, particularly by Bradbury and Burroughs. This is a little unfair since both writers, but particularly Burroughs, have benefited from media techniques and style of presentation. It’s influence can be one of banality, as Vonnegut painfully points out, but the interaction of words and images in the media is relevant to Godard, Ballard and Burroughs. To Bradbury it remains a dichotomy; they cannot be combined in any meaningful or artistic way, despite his rather non-artistic style of writing and his granting of film rights. Certainly, if Bradbury’s attitude to books is pursued they may be made redundant and new writers must adopt new techniques.

‘Click? Pic? Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What, Where, Eh? Uh! Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom!’

Bradbury neglects to mention that such a style can be entertaining, like Vonnegut, but it can also be significant – Burroughs uses elements of spy thrillers, science fiction and pornography. Using the language of popular contemporary, and therefore rapidly changing, forms does not automatically negate content. Alphaville is a highly complex film constructed on the clichés of science fiction and spy thrillers. Ballard and Burroughs point out communications and media manipulations but, in order to be modern writers, they cannot ignore it. They face their fear of the media, exploiting it’s immediate, sometimes visual, nature and references, in order to liberate the novel format to provide a viable future communications counterpart of more import.

 Copyright 1978 Adrian Annabel

Bibliography/Filmography

Fahrenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury

The Sirens of Titan – Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

Alphaville (Jean-Luc Goddard)

The Atrocity Exhibition – JG Ballard

The Ticket That Exploded – William Burroughs

Ah Pook Is Here and other texts – William Burroughs

William Burroughs: An Annotated Bibliography – Michael B Goodman

Brave New World – Aldous Huxley

Dune – Frank Herbert

2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick)

 

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