Doomsday

I’ve been long interested in how we construct reality, but I’ve mostly thought of it in psychological or technical (not technological terms) –  like how we project a persona or how images or words in film or literature create meaning.  Obviously technology has or will soon have the ability to create possibilities of experiences that were not previously available.  Here, I use  the word “experience” as opposed to “reality.” But the question of what is reality is at the base of much of what we have read for this week.  Further, I find it most interesting to cast this question of reality into apocalyptic terms.

Quinby calls the social domination allowed by technology “technopression” and argues that it presents and seeks to control power, truth and morality in an apocalyptic mode.  Technology allows for the dream of transcendence of human limitations,  a millennialist dream she says.  Indeed, the idea of transcendence of human form and constraints squares well with ideas in BOR about the impurities of flesh and the promise of freedom from sin once the end arrives.  It’s also the 144,000 undefiled by sex who will be saved.  But stepping aside from this obvious reference, technopression’s problems are more insidious.  Programmed perfection as Quinby calls it, or Vinge’s “utraintelligent machine,” both seek to change a current reality into a new, sanitized one.

With the advent of the Singularity, which Vinge casts as an Apocalyptic event , will come a change in time or nature of intelligence.  He argues that more detailed knowledge of science takes away from the fantasy of what is possible.  Vinge also points out that truly productive work will become the “domain of steadily smaller and more elite fraction of humanity.”  IA creates cynical elite, which corresponds to an apocalyptic mode of electism, where only a select few are worthy of redemption.  But Vinge also points out that we are the initiators of the inevitable.  Thus, the Singularity raises issue about free will and determinism.

In Vinge’s post-Singularity world, pieces of ego can be merged/copied and “size of self awareness can grow or shrink to fit nature of problems under consideration.”  The SQUID device promises exactly this new reality, one which Quinby sees as having an alienating effect.

As I was reading for class the other night, I listened to a song by Regina Spektor titled “Hooked into Machine.” The main character of the song basically describes her life as a cyborg. She writes to the higher power that is “the Machine” because it “lacks [her] perspective” and it “lacks [her] organics.” Thus, even though the character of the Machine is very powerful, there is still something that this God wishes it had that its people do– this God is dependent on Man for new ideas. This brings to mind the benevolent God/gods idea by Isaac Asimov quoted in Vernor Vinge’s “the Singularity.”

However, I have trouble believing that machines will ever be anything more than “willing slaves” unless computing changes drastically within the next few decades (which it absolutely can). Moreover, I cannot imagine technology taking over the human race. Currently, we program computers. Without the instructions, the computer cannot do much of anything. All of its thinking is contained within the lines of code that we, humans, have defined. Computers with higher processing power may be able to go through these instructions faster, however, they cannot come up with any new ideas. That is why Vinge’s example of computers that can beat humans at chess does not impress me: all the computer is doing in this case is considering all the possible moves at a quicker pace than its human counter part. However, chess is played with a few strict rules, the rules for survival as a species are not that easy.

Also, pure machines will not be able to compete with humans on a survival level until they learn to reproduce on their own or maintain themselves forever without human help. Furthermore, there is no real reason why they would develop feelings of dissent towards their human masters. Without emotions, the capacity for ambition, or the ability to feel fatigue, machines are not going to have a motive for bettering their situation. In fact, they are the perfect slaves. In the Regina Spektor song, the main character also mentions that the Machine “covets [her] defects”– it is these defects of emotion and, otherwise emotional thinking that usually clouds up our judgment, that brought the human race thus far in the game of survival.

However, although I do not see technology taking us over in the form of some twisted dictatorship, I can imagine this happening in two other ways. One, people can come to depend on technology to the point that they cannot live without it, and even, become addicted to it. The first relationship between humans and the technology God is already something we see. Computers we have readily available today are capable of pretty high processing speeds and we do depend on them quite a lot. In such a setting, people become very dependent on those who have the knowledge to control the computers. This creates a special class of people with the ability to control us all. Also, as in the example presented by Lee Quinby of the movie Strange Days, people can become addicted to technology and use it as a means of escape– this kind of dependence creates a dystopia, but, the technology itself has no conscious control. In the second scenario, cyborgs (humans with capabilities enhanced by technology) will have the ability to control and eliminate the human race if given the chance because they will have the higher rate of processing with the ability to invent.

Thus, although I do not believe that a techno-apocalypse is on its way in the sense that machines will revolt, I do believe that it is completely possible that technology will fall in the wrong hands and facilitate an apocalypse.

I’ve seen the Matrix a few times but I understood it was a very intellectual movie but Rosen’s analysis of the many apocalyptic readings made me want to see it again.

The Wachowski Brothers said that they tried to incorporate as many ideas as possible into the films. The dualities etched by Rosen: Neo as both messiah and antichrist, the tethered humans as both sinner and saved, the machines as both “nurturing protectors and tyrannical parasites” highlight the importance of prospective in the apocalyptic narrative.

The case can be made for both a human apocalypse and a machinist apocalypse since both species are working towards creating a New Jerusalem free from the other but as Rosen argues in the world they live in they can’t survive without one another. This calls into question the need for evil to define good and the need for good to define evil. Can there be a Christ without an Anti-Christ? Is this why Satan gets released after a 1000 years to tempt humanity again?

Today, technology and humanity are co-existing. Humans use technology to make life easier but they also have come to depend on it for survival. If any of us were asked to live off the grid and wash our own clothes and do cook our food without assistance for more than a weekend camping trip we would have great difficulties. We also depend on technology to keep us alive in medical emergencies. We create these machines for both convenience and survival, but for many IT workers, it gives their life purpose.  While many people complain about living in a cubicle with only a desktop as company, they, no doubt, choose to live such an existence. We voluntarily live under technnoppression. We create the need to constantly check our e-mails or Facebook accounts. We create the conditions by which we can allow ourselves to be dominated by technology by placing a value on the benefits of the sprawling world of ones and zeros.

Quinby states, “Access to information banks is redefining truth and complicating whether truth can be established amidst an overwhelming flow of data. (135)” The spread of information can allow everyone to look at the numbers and define their own individual truth. This reveals the other sides of the coin that technology can be both liberate as well as imprison humanity. Rosen’s acknowledgement of the multiplicity of truths in the Matrix comments that with many truths comes the obliteration of Truth with a capital T.

Elizabeth Rosen, while analyzing Terry Gilliam’s film Twelve Monkeys, argues that “being an End-time prophet is maddening; that is, by its nature, it jeopardizes one’s sanity” (Rosen 89-90). Kushner’s Prior Walter would certainly agree.

Prior is quickly convinced he is going crazy during his dealings with the Angel. The first time he mentions the voice to Belize, he blames it on the drugs he’s taking. But Belize isn’t so sure – he’s afraid of dementia and warns Prior, “Don’t go crazy on me, girlfriend” (Millennium Approaches 61).

Later, when Louis is pumping Belize for information about Prior, Belize tells Louis Prior thinks he’s going crazy, and Prior himself repeats this concern to his nurse, Emily (Millenium Apporaches 97-98).

Finally, in Part Two, Prior says to Hannah, “I saw an angel. That’s insane. Insane. But I’m not insane. But then why did I do this to myself? Because I have been driven insane…ever since She arrived, ever since, I have been consumed by this ice-cold, razorblade terror that just shouts and shouts ‘Keep moving! Run!” And I’ve run myself…into the ground. Right where she said I’d eventually be” (Perestroika 102-103).

Prior’s fight with AIDS and the reactions of other characters (especially Hannah and Belize) when he tells them about the Angel support Rosen’s belief that “Prophets sow anxiety and discord…so the ends they suffer…tend to be ugly ones…Certainly, such prophets suffer scorn and their prophecies are dismissed as delusions of diseased minds” (Rosen 89).

However, unlike most of the prophets (Cassandra, James Cole, Jeffery Goines, etc.) Rosen mentions in Chapter 3, A Tortured State of Mind, Prior gets a fairly happy ending. By rejecting his prophesy and choosing life, Prior avoids eternally experiencing “the agony of the apocalyptist” (Rosen, 88). Prior is lucky in that he gets a chance to say no – it is rare that a prophet gets the opportunity to wrestle with an angel and be granted a choice.

Moore re-imagines the image of the messiah in his work Watchmen. There are three characters that play the role of savior in the novel: Rorschah, Adrian Viedt, and Dr. Manhattan.
Rorschach is a strict moralist. In his view, there is only right and wrong, good and evil. Rosen says Rorschach is meant to represent the apocalyptic God of retribution. He punishes evil, mercilessly, and follows his own moral code. At the conclusion of the novel, he attempts to stop Viedt’s destruction of the world and refuses to compromise even when he faces his own death. To Rorschach, the means do not justify the end, even when that end could be the possibility of a New Jerusalem.

Adrian Viedt subscribes himself the role of messiah as he tries to destroy the world to create a new start. Viedt, the smartest man in the world, decides to take on the burden of having the blood of half of Manhattan on his hands. He recognizes that the war of good and evil is a continuing battle that there must be a traumatic wake up call for the world. Rosen describes him as embodiment of the apocalyptic Christ, ushering in an age of peace through destruction.

Dr. Manhattan is unwillingly labeled the savior by the American people and government. He is meant to bring an age of peace that is not based on the realization the human beings should be kind to one another but based on fear of ultimate destruction. He is seen as the weapon to end all wars just like the atomic bomb he has replaced in the eyes of the U.S. government. Rosen argues that of all the saviors he is the most godlike character. His perception of time and space is boundless as he experiences life simultaneously.

Interestingly, Moore doesn’t make a case for any righteousness of any of the saviors. None of the characters achieve their ultimate goal. Rorschach dies defending strict morality, Viedt’s utopia is only temporary, and Dr. Manhattan doesn’t escape humanity as he decides to create his own life forms. Moore leaves his characters flaws as the humans who created them.

Though not pronouncedly apocalyptic in nature, Darren Aronofsky’s film, The Fountain, focuses on collective death, in contrast to eternal (personal) life. Over the course of two lifetimes, Tommy fails to sacrifice his own ego (borders/I/self) for his loved one Izzi. In Tommy’s third and last “life,” he must choose between eternal life or letting his body melt into the cosmos to join Izzi, who had died from a brain tumor.

Rosen observes that “when Swamp Thing reads Woodrue’s report and realizes that his former human self is unattainable,” Swamp Thing is devastated and lies in the swamp and becomes rooted there (9, Rosen). This is his turning point, for when Swamp Thing sheds his single human perspective he begins to experience the whole of nature. Buddhism 101 – being one with all.

Ozymandias’ hope is that a great multinational (collective) death will unite humanity – see the last page of chapter XI, where the white newspaper salesman and young black reader fuse into a single being.

In Snyder’s Watchmen (the film adaptation), it is not an alien that wrecks havoc, but John. This was a clever way to tie up some loose ends and cut down an already beefy film (162 minutes.) I think, however, that though John is rather alien, he was still too human enough to cause a uniting of humanity. As we all know, the easiest way to make a friend is to find a common enemy. The alien, with its strange tentacles, beak and single eye was the common enemy, stranger than any variation in our human gene pool – even a blue demigod.

In Promethea, Moore writes himself into the final ending, showing a panel with his picture bleeding to white (and confirming to some extent, as I’ve been told, that he believes imagination and belief are more than mere brain stuff, but maintain tangible reality on some plane.) In keeping with the real life newspaper headlines signaling environmental catastrophes strewn between panels in Swamp Thing, Moore wants his readers to realize that they are not a passive audience, but are complicit in This reality – in its unity or downfall.

In the introduction to Apocalyptic Transformation, Elizabeth Rosen says, “it is the intent of this study to examine only texts which are working with the traditional apocalyptic form…and to think about what each artist gains from choosing to work with the classic rather than the new paradigm” (Rosen xxv-xxvi). The “new paradigm” she’s referring to is neo-apocalyptic, “a unique sub-branch of eschatological literature…focused on cataclysm” (Rosen xv). The defining characteristic of the neo-apocalyptic genre is pessimism, based off of the assumption that “no one deserves saving and that everyone should be punished” (Rosen xv).

In examining Watchmen in Chapter 1 of her book, Rosen presents this graphic novel as a traditional apocalyptic story. Such traditional stories contain elements of “New Jerusalem and the hope it symbolizes” and are “meant to lend hope and bolster faith” (Rosen xv).

After reading Watchmen, I have to disagree with Rosen’s classification. Although at the end of the book Veidt’s plan to usher in an era of international cooperation seems to be working, as the reader, I was hardly left with a feeling of hope. Even Rosen recognizes that “It is strongly suggested that the times have only been temporarily changed by Veidt’s devious plan” (Rosen 42).

Most striking is the return of the smiley-face with the streak of sauce, resembling blood, in the last panel. As an obvious link to the beginning of the book and the murder of Edward Blake, I think it more than “strongly suggests” Veidt’s failure to permanently change the world. In the absence of anything remotely resembling eternal salvation, a New Jerusalem, or even a permanent shift in ideas or worldview, I fail to see how Watchmen fulfils the definition of a traditional apocalyptic story, and I would categorize Watchmen as an entirely neo-apocalyptic story.

Who’s with me?

It was a little difficult for me to find the overarching theme in Rosen’s Introduction so I will simply address some points that stood out for me. The first is a quote near the beginning of this section, which sums up quite succinctly what purpose has the Apocalypse through out human history. Many different authors have spoken about the slant and the social influences of apocalyptic theory but she addressed it quite nicely in the beginning.

“Apocalypse is a means to understand the world and ones place in it.”

This quite frankly speaks for itself and does not need any further explanation. It is an attempt to answer the age-old question of  “why am I here?” The apocalypse offers a hope that at least there is an end for all of us. The end essentially is the great equalizer of humanity. The oppressed find hope in the promise that they will one day vanquish their oppressors.  Another reoccurring theme is that all things in the universe move form disorder to order. This concept is found beyond the boundaries of literature and social theory. Perhaps, we as natural beings are accustomed to all things coming to an end; it only makes sense that time or the world we live in is also bound by such confines. And lastly, her observation on New Jerusalem in a secular context was quite interesting. A new vision as opposed to a perfect world headed by a perfect being makes a lot of sense. I simply believe that I never stopped to consider that. However, in secular contexts the new vision, which originally seems promising and innovative, is horribly flawed. For example Huxley’s Brave New World and Lowry’s The Giver is a new and “improved” world but appears to the readers (or me at least) as oppressive and inhibitory. Just my thoughts…

The Hindu version of the Apocalypse is not very apocalyptic, in the sense that it does not involve a revelation at all. Moreover, what Hindus mean when they imagine the end of the world is an apocalypse, not the Apocalypse.

Hindus of the Vedic period (about 1000 BCE) tended to believe that time is cyclical and that there are four yugas (or eras) the world goes through before going meeting destruction.

The first is Sathya Yuga—an era when the bull of Dharma (righteousness) is standing firmly on all four legs and mankind is inherently good. Then there is the Threta Yuga when the bull is on three feet, the Duapara Yuga when the bull is on two feet and, finally, the Kali Yuga when the bull is struggling on its last foot. In the Kali Yuga, people are said to become atheistic and morally bankrupt. The human condition is to become so despicable that the only hope it has is an apocalypse and this devastation comes from an avatar (incarnation) of Vishnu named Kalki (and yes, he is on a white horse too).

However, if morals are the basis for gauging the distance between human life and total destruction, In Vedic India, marrying a prepubescent girl is perfectly within their construct of dharma and refusing to stay within the boundaries of one’s caste was considered adharma (not righteous). This distant culture followed a moral code that we would disagree with at the least and be disgusted by at the worst. Looking at our society, the Hindus of the Vedic era (even Hindus of the present era) believe that Kalki is near.

My point here is that different cultures of different times have different apocalyptic stories. Even in the Judeo-Christian tradition, Elizabeth Rosen mentions, that the story of the Apocalypse has changed: we seem to place more emphasis on the Destruction and not on what is supposed to come after. The Watchmen by Alan Moore is a more likely story in our present day than John’s Revelatory Visions. Moreover, the character of the newsvendor in The Watchmen referred to the Book of Revolutions instead of Revelations—telling because the events of the book were partially a reaction to the political climate at the time.

Finally, Rosen says that stories about the End are as significant as stories about the Creation in the psyches of culture. As our ideas about where we come from change, so do our ideas about where we are going.

Here is a picture of Kalki, the tenth reincarnation of Vishnu, on a white horse.

Rosen agrees with Stroizer in the sense that she sees apocalypse as being a force by which to establish identity. And she says it is kept alive not only for its inherent value (in religious or moral terms), but also as a commodity: like Stroizer, she points out that apocalypse has been used to comfort people. But more than Stroizer, Rosen argues why apocalyptic theory as “sense-making paradigm” is superior to other theories by which a people could establish themselves in context to their histories.
Apocalypse helps make sense of crises by seeing these as part of an underlying master plan. But, by enumerating those events or states that we perceive as apocalyptic, we highlight those which are imperfect. Rosen believes this functions as a sort of social criticism of society and of apocalyptic thought itself.

“Apocalypse seems at least to accept and perhaps to condone the abdication of personal responsibility for our fate.”

Last week, I mentioned (ever so fleetingly, just like I would be telling you about what I ate for lunch) that I am a self-professed fatalist. Prof. Quinby thought this was interesting in light of fatalism of predestination in Calvinist and that is central to the Fundamentalist Christian belief system and much apocalyptic belief generally.

Does this make me apocalyptic? Belief in some sort of apocalypse is central to Judeo-Christian belief. And, yes, I suppose it does. But more on this later.

It is interesting that Rosen claims that America is not becoming more secularized. The data she cite point to increased religious feeling among young people. These are curious statistics. I don’t find it surprising that this may be true. I just don’t feel that there is a trend toward deeper religiosity in the country, at least as popular American culture is concerned. If anything, pop culture has moved sharply away from religiosity and instead is preaching a loosening of (traditionally religious) morals and dismissal of faith in god. I don’t think this debate is anything new. It’s been around for millennia but the extent to which the church has been separated from the state and establishment is unprecedented.

Another interesting point is that Rosen thinks that apocalypse has nearly universal appeal. While belief in apocalypse may be increased by persecution, it is not a prerequisite, and only perceived persecution or even disruption of normality may suffice.

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The challenge to apocalyptic thought is what underlies post-modern thinking. The idea is to up-end the traditional “sense-making” paradigms and to rethink long-held systems of moral code.

Tension between perceived world of the narrator and the “real” world of the film, and the destruction of one and creation of the other. Donnie Darko (2001).

Post-modernism – restructuring of time. A return to the cyclical time, to where there are no strict beginnings and endings.

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Moore — it was not I who decided how the axe would fall, it was you.
– same idea in film; implicating the viewer (favorite of Hitchcock and others) you were thinking same thing