There are neat parallels, where assumed supremacy left old property rights intact, in both McGirt v Oklahoma, the case where East Oklahoma is recognized as a Muscogee (Creek) Indian reservation, and Mabo v Queensland No 2, where Australian native title was first recognized.
In both cases the court held that the relevant power could have extinguished title at any time by passing a new law. But the government never got around to it, so the court found the balance of continuity lay with the original, indigenous claim.
In the Australian case, Queensland parliament had the power, and there was no explicit treaty. So it turned on recognizing something like ordinary title property rights based on continuous occupation from before British settlement, and that they were not changed by transfer of the sovereign power.
In Oklahoma, Congress, ie the US federal government, had the power, there was an explicit treaty, and the case turned on rights of self-government not being undermined by sale of ordinary property title within the granted reservation.
The success of these moments of self-determination depend on an inherent tensions in conservatism: fidelity to old written law versus preservation of settled arrangements versus interests that happen to hold power today. Conservatism’s devotion to history is also its vision of the future: the idea that certain old practices and values, perhaps hard to explicitly name, are part of the world to come.
You see this in both cases. The arguments in Mabo include a long history of different forms of property title across the world. McGirt rests on originalist fidelity to the legal text, argued by the conservative Justice Gorsuch. Note too that justice and self-determination here emerges from the messiness of the law: the legislative remnants of a colonial project not carried to its logical rectilinear endpoint.
Oklahoma replies that its situation is different because the affected population here is large and many of its residents will be surprised to find out they have been living in Indian country this whole time. But we imagine some members of the 1832 Creek Tribe would be just as surprised to find them there.
I was at a family-age party the other night (I know: does my corona-privilege know no bounds?) where pre-teens were running around in knight dress-up gear and throwing out lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It occurred to me that The Holy Grail may be the only Python thing to really last as a cultural artifact – to be a recognizable reference in say, a century’s time. There’s an Alice in Wonderland quality to its deep silliness and texture. The sex jokes are giggly rather than deep blue, the violence is silly red paint rather than grotesquerie, and the religion comedy is mainly surface level jibes at self-serious authority figures.
Consider the coconut running joke. Its a visual joke, an auditory “hook”, an “infinity times” meta-joke, and a very English class commentary on the upper class literally riding on the backs of the peasantry.
Though it isn’t the work of Monty Python alone, I’d argue the depiction in The Holy Grail sits at a locus of our current common sense understanding of Medieval Europe. The Victorian images of romance and chivalry are not without their appeal, but also hard to take straight. The idea that the king has power for absurd and hard to justify reasons is much more accessible. It makes sense to us for peasants to be muddy and diseased, for everyone to be pretty anti-scientific and stupid, and Arthur a somewhat overwhelmed duffer. The Holy Grail can’t help including visions of full chivalric romance within it, though. Consider the beautiful passage of Arthur across the misty lake to the castle Aargh. You can tell it was directed by one medievalist and one animator. The moments of vision are setups for jokes, but it doesn’t matter. They are in there all the same.
Everyone, Pythons included, name Life of Brian as their masterpiece, and it’s a more coherent work of art. But the institutional Christianity it mocks is much rarer in the UK and other places now than when the film was made. The leftwing political jokes have an eternal quality, though they could go out of fashion quick, and the gender jokes are now weirdly off-colour. Likewise The Meaning of Life is more offensive, more sexually and violently grotesque, but without much “high art” aspiration to justify the investment of time for someone who didn’t grow up somewhere in that cultural milieu.
I find all the movies and most of the sketches very funny. I just don’t expect them to last. At most one might sneak through as a piece for older children, an anarchic discovery where you don’t need to understand all the words at first, because another song, or a silly joke about a killer rabbit, will be along in ten seconds. The other sketches and films then might pulled along in the wake, like A Tale of a Tub trails Gulliver’s Travels.
Time is always brutal to comedy. It depends so often on momentary references and sensibilities. To stay around it needs to be attached to some broader body of work, as in Chaucer, or Shakespeare, or Wu Cheng’en 吴承恩. Or it needs to be both surreally funny and deeply textured, like Alice … or The Holy Grail.
Quarantine – perhaps we should say the first quarantine – has lifted here, and children have gone back to school. This is of course a matter of tremendous individual good fortune, which I am grateful for, while also wanting to snapshot the alien mindset of this moment into text before new consensus realities congeal and solidify. Perhaps the moment has already gone; the text is here nevertheless.
Governments did act during the crisis according to a different idea of the state. The nascent ideology was only partially realized, but does stand in contrast to what we might call financial neoliberalism. They acted as if the state was an extension of its hospital system, that the health of their people was the most precious asset to defend, and they used networked computing infrastructure as means to that end. They acted as Platform Biostates.
Declaring the death of neoliberalism has of course been a recurring hobby of many political professionals and dilettantes. Declaring COVID-19 the end of capitalism or even just liberalism seems very wishful thinking. But the specific financial neoliberalism that defined public policy from 1970 to 2020 seems intellectually over. This saw the state providing gardeners to cultivate and harvest taxes from markets that were desirable and pervasive. Nowadays even a lively True Neoliberalism Has Never Been Tried book like Radical Markets isn’t much about using money any more, but introducing tokens to voting or immigration to create markets which do not trade in everyday currency.
The basic causal model of financial neoliberalism was that the health of the state was downstream of the free market, free trading economy, and that the health and prosperity of people is downstream of the state and the market economy. Of course there is some truth to this, or neoliberals wouldn’t have been as effective as they were in creating wealth and gaining power for their nations, from China, to Germany, to Chile, to New Zealand. Financial neoliberalism was also so successful because it is a partial ideology. It dictates how to organize markets and where the state should switch from mover to referee, but it also mixes with Chinese Communism, army juntas, social democracy, or corporate liberalism.
The Platform Biostate is also a partial ideology, but the causal model is different. The power of the state is downstream of the health of its citizens. Money and employment are a means for optimizing that dependency.
Sketching some features of the platform biostate, more descriptively than normatively:
Baseline medical welfare. The state looks after the base health of all of its residents. This is both an ideological commitment to care and a herd management technique. Keeping a persistently unhealthy group roaming around the community makes everyone much more vulnerable to communicable disease, so people in the community have to be fed well and have basic medical needs attended to.
Prestige Epidemiology. The science of disease management is the premier technical field. Other fields don’t go away, or stop providing insight, but they are politically secondary. John Hopkins’ COVID-19 dashboard is more urgently read than the New York Times, and the money-conscious watch an infection curve for signs of flattening, not (just) a zigzagging stock chart. Health is the lead department, rather than the Treasury or a Ministry of the Interior. The flawed WHO is more important than the flawed WTO. Oxbridge changes its major to Politics, Philosophy and Epidemiology. Economists already recognize this shift, and have been stunned at attempts to fix a virus with monetary and fiscal policy (consider Paul Romer‘s calls for massively expanded state-funded testing in the US). Economists also expect epidemiologists to be part of a public policy conversation they are not yet used to.
External biosecurity. The platform biostate is a hospital system with a navy attached. It knows which people, animals, and plants cross its borders, and it imposes controls on those it wants to exclude. The Platform Biostate wears a mask. This doesn’t make it a hermit kingdom, necessarily, but one with good information about what is near its borders, able to open or close the borders quickly and effectively, and practised at filtering according to current health criteria. And yes, one prone to overgeneralizing the idea to memes, race, or other criteria less biologically grounded.
Internal biosecurity. Threats to community health inside the border can be detected and acted upon quickly. Isolation, testing and tracking are deployed specifically to maintain community health. Alcohol breath testing, mobile health apps, and the prison system state anticipate this. The tracking may be very explicitly individual tracking by a central system, or it may be distributed, but responsive to emerging threats. The social obligation to isolate when sick is a widely held value and backed by law and the police.
Asynchronous delivery / Remote synchrony. Logistics networks end at the house and the office again. Meeting is online by default, remote by default, virtualized by default, a routine piece of greenscreen theatre. Offices themselves fragment and partition. Automated supply chains are bioshock buffers.
Ecosystem complicity. Food, water and air – how casually we let them flow through us; how futile our pretence of the mind’s separation from them. So many more now know what it is like to be breathing death on people, and not able to see the effects until a fortnight later. Without doubting the human capacity for doublethink, everyone did just get an intuition crash course on the diseased exhalations of fossil fuel power.
Why now? What changed?
Well, meandering failure of the old thing, certainly. Epidemiology was an obviously relevant alternative idea lying around, and with some existing institutional forms, which is always important in a crisis. The platform elements of this form of governance – dashboards, rapid publication, gene-based tests, big data, smartphones – are also relatively new in institutional time. So in one sense we may care about COVID-19 because it is now cheaper to care about it and states may act as platform biostates because there are now technological platforms to use. Another common explanation is a shift of political consciousness – a sudden surge of social-mindedness. Perhaps. I doubt the wellspring of human sentiment has grown so very quickly without some other structural attractor.
Take a world with a wide difference in wealth and income between elites and most people, particularly the 0.1% and the remainder, but also where a top 10% of technically skilled managers and technocrats do quite well: our world of the elephant and Loch Ness monster graphs. This is also an era of dynastic capital, as Piketty has shown. Merit paths are important but so too is ensuring boomer-accumulated capital is stewarded in an orderly way to maintain the next generation’s place in society. As a purely instrumental matter, if you are a member of this 10 or 0.1%, crime, poverty, schooling, clean food, water and air can be protected against in a fairly individualized or family-level fashion. You can get bodyguards, you can live in a compound, you can have air-conditioning and an armoured limousine. It’s not a marvelous way to live, in my opinion, but it’s livable enough. Pandemic, though, is particularly hard to deal with this way; there are essentially three solutions if you’re trying to preserve dynastic capital.
Hygienic fortress. The normal compound solution isn’t enough for a contagious pandemic, especially one with an asymptomatic period. You need very strict lockdowns with all your servants and a biosecure epidermis. This is affordable for the 0.1% but not the 10%. For both classes it is in tension with the need to maintain a professional and social network to stay rich. You can’t go to restaurants or fly across the ocean. This era of capitalism works by assembling profit constructs from globally separated opportunities; people need to socially work a cosmopolitan network to navigate and construct that. You can do this online, and reach opportunities you previously couldn’t, but you can’t exploit all the senses for social advantage online; you can’t read body language as well, or catch people in the break of a three day conference. How do you decide when to let people into the fortress? – do they spend two weeks in the citadel hotel? It’s also inaccessible, in our current urban infrastructure, to the technocrats that actually manage the world, rather than owning it.
High fertility backup kin. The traditional farmer and landed aristocrat insurance against catastrophe is diversification through redundancy. Have plenty of kids, over multiple generations, and so have plenty of aunts and cousins as well, so that when war or disease does sweep through some of you survive. This is in tension with the multi-decade trend of urbanization and drops in fertility rates. The tendency is to have only a few kids, then hothouse-parent them into a career that will keep dynastic fortunes alive for the next generation (and your geriatric care). Perhaps it will flip the trend and people will start popping out more kids again, but even if it does, it will take decades, and there will have to be some default political worldview in the meantime.
Rawlsian contract. If you still want to leave the house and be near strangers, you are faced with a veil of disease ignorance. Especially with contagious diseases with asymptomatic periods, you don’t know whether you will be in the diseased or the healthy role after twelve days, when the veil is lifted. Rawls’ solution of distributive justice then applies – make sure that no-one is ever too sick or uncared for, and you reduce the risk of your own misery or death when the outcome is finally revealed.
Essentially the third solution, familiar in shape due to the historical welfare state, is what rich governments tried to implement in the first half of 2020. Some did it quite well, due to fortunate timing, advantages of population size and geography, or previous experience in biosecurity. For others – like the US or UK – it seemed like the levers of administrative government were no longer connected to any wires underneath. Those states (and sub-national states, like California) that did function, and treated population health as causing wealth, are already in a more powerful position than six months ago. They kept capable people able to work, protected their families, and limited their distress.
Optimizing for overall population and ecosystem health as a generator of power will still create losers (like all state power). A hospital is very good at treating sickness. It is also a bureaucracy that can be indifferent to people in need and make stupid mistakes. Medicine remains very fixated on treatment and on big centralized buildings of sickness control, all put under tension by the needs of keeping a population healthy rather than reacting only to sick people queuing for doctors. The epidemiological view of people as a population – a herd – also leans a manager towards the idea that a herd might be culled for the greater good.
The platform biostate is a partial ideology: it can be combined with luxury airport quarantine stratification by passport and frequent disease flyer status, or drone-delivered Universal Basic Mask provision, or ideological hygiene death squads, if you try hard enough. It could have a neoliberal variant too: it’s pretty technocratic. Still, I am sympathetic to centreing the state on health, and think it’s perfectly compatible with liberal democracy, which I remain fond of. Financial neoliberalism was pretty good at creating wealth, markets and inequality. The platform biostate could be pretty good at cleaning up industrial toxins, governing by health dashboard and nagging like a harridan when individuals choose fun today over health a decade from now. Some Leviathans may rot; others may send the corpses to pathology for some bloodwork and an updated infection model.
It’s not widely appreciated that the popular nineties computer game was actually inspired by Pokémon Blood and Iron (ポケモン铁血), an 1869 recruiting and training pamphlet for boys being drafted into the beleaguered army of the shortlived Republic of Ezo.
In the pamphlet, different “monsters” and attacks are harnessed for different parts of infantry drill, in a metaphor familiar from East Asian martial arts – mantis style, great white ape leaps backwards, and so on. “Thunderbolt” practiced the firing action of a muzzle-loaded rifle.
Also notable is the exhortation to report spies and sympathizers for the Meiji restoration government – “Diligence and loyalty! All must be caught!”.
Little material is available online, although some of the few extant pamphlets can be seen at the Hakodate City Museum. Signage is, unfortunately, exclusively in Japanese.
Attitudes to time seem both a handy rule of thumb and a hint at deeper conceptual fissures. This is true for accelerationism and for other things.
Right accelerationists are obsessed with both immediate speed and deep time. Population genetics, rise and fall of empires, eternal cold darkness, Arthurian sovcorp CEOs, AI basilisks at the end of time. Aligning oneself with the waves of deep history. “Geology, go faster!”
Consider the conceptual timeframes of Bitcoin, from different points of observation. Epochal alternative to state money (thousand year), mathematical number theory results (timeless), solving the philosophical problem of constructing consensus time, yearning for seconds of transaction latency and getting hours.
Left accelerationists (or Fully Automated Luxury Communists given the decline of the L#A brand) work on an economic scale of time. It’s the decadal or century scale of Marx, multi-election political strategy, or the sub-millisecond latency of technological platforms.
Project Cybersyn, or a socialized amazon.gov, are illustrative. They are about steering, using rich computational sources of general intelligence. Communism emerging in immanent processes, and radically expanded scale limits.
Unconditional Accelerationism is/was as much a fracture event as a movement. It works in spirals and fragmented patchwork time. Survival and observation are key: scientific, poetic sniper-time.
Consider the DIY pancreas and its algorithmic loop-time rituals. Consider that every separate device has multiple clocks. Consider that every animal body has multiple internal clocks. The quantified, technologically constructed network of the federated self.