Surveillance Camera Man

Surveillance Camera Man

Insofar as the claim that Surveillance Man engages in harassment: He's not targeting any one individual or group repeatedly or for sustained periods of time; in his interactions with them he is physically and verbally passive, not hinting at any violence or other malfeasance; he doesn't know his subjects individually or personally; he's in areas that are open to the public (he occasionally pushes it, but never far enough or long enough to cross any lines); he's not doing anything that security cameras or journalists don't already do.

That's why his shtick is so effective. The fact that he's a person holding a camera (as opposed to a camera mounted on the wall) recording people in their public but otherwise routine activities (as opposed to those who are in the midst of a "story" where they expect to get recorded) makes people react with near-violent antagonism. But the fact is that he's not doing anything that isn't already being done by dozens of people or cameras -- standing there observing, in a passive, perfectly legal fashion.

As a recovering critical theory/cultural studies academic, I think it's fascinating. It may even be great, to the extent that it engenders critical thought. It's philosophical inquiry and political praxis at the same time; it's interactive performance art in which both observer and observed occupy the same space and mirror the Other's roles simultaneously.

Sure, he's being a pest, he's marginally intrusive, he's arguably (at best) and occasionally (though only barely so) disruptive. But we only notice it because the man watching through the camera lens happens to be occupying the same space as the subject and as the camera. The subjects could easily ignore him, and if they did he'd disappear after a brief existence in their lives, but they don't -- they're enraged. Why?

Is it simply because they (wrongfully) think it's illegal to be recorded this way? But people commit minor infractions of the law daily, and they are recorded daily. Is it because they feel violated and imposed upon? If so, why? Dozens if not hundreds of gazes and the brains connected to those gazes record us every single day, let alone the dozens if not hundreds of less forgetful recording devices that unblinkingly lay their gaze upon us. Many of these people react similarly to indigenous tribal peoples encountering cameras for the first time -- as if the device that captures their image has simultaneously captured their soul. Yet we're surrounded by these cameras, we use them on ourselves, we post our photos on websites for the world to see. Why this camera in this situation in this man's hands?

I have a theory, and it's based on narratology and Kenneth Burke's concept of the dramatic pentad. "Surveillance Man" is disrupting the diegetic bubble in which we normally yet falsely allow ourselves to exist. Accustomed to being the reader, narrator, protagonist, and focalizer of our personal narratives, here comes someone whose presence and props force us to realize that, in his presence (but really at all times, even when we're alone), we are also mere actors in someone else's narrative, and that there are infinite texts around us in which we aren't the reader, narrator, protagonist, and focalizer. We're not the center of the universe, our personal narrative is a convenient illusion, a tissue-thin comfort in a world full of equally self-contained narrators, and that drives our brains, which rely on this narrative so much, into overdrive. We consider it a threat, a real, adrenaline-pumping, life-on-the-line threat, not because we are in any physical danger, but because our sense of self-contained narrative identity is reflected back to us in a shattered mirror. He's killing each person who he points his camera at, just not in the way they understand death.

And I think that's really fucking interesting.

Malachi Rebooted

My name is Malachi.

This will be my attempt to capture something between my thoughts and my life -- a praxis.

In the past I would have used this opportunity to launch into a soliloquy orbiting around myself and my immediate concerns, but once you look past the noise and fire you realize that launches are messy, smoky events that mean little compared to the rest of the process of "getting there." Instead, this post will be simply a placeholder.

Later today, I will discuss something much more important than myself or the act of starting a blog. I'll be discussing Cuban Black Beans and what they have taught me about authenticity and eating well. Tasty stuff.