Paradox of Austen?

In Edward Said’s “Jane Austen and Empire” he argues that Austen in Mansfield Park assumes “the importance of an empire to the situation at home” and that events in the home correspond to and reflect imperialism in India (1119).  He discusses the “paradox” of reading Jane Austen is the novel seems to say that slavery is “cruel stuff” but that “everything we know about Austen and her values is at odds with the cruelty of slavery” (1124).  I found this statement interesting.  At first I thought of taking a cue from Structuralism and say that Austen’s opinion, or rather his opinion of what Austen’s opinion is doesn’t matter.  But I don’t think that is even necessary, because from the essay I don’t believe that we get a clear enough picture of Austen herself in order to say what her opinion was on slavery.  His support of Austen's opinion seems more like speculation.  Why can’t we just let the book speak for itself?      

Facebook as the Panoptic Model of Social Control

If only Foucault could see Facebook--I shudder at the thought. But at the same time, I feel ambivalence—Facebook is the offspring of our generation, and it is symptomatic of our cultural mentality to connect and communicate our individuality. In fact, critiquing Facebook feels somewhat futile—why? For one thing, once you become a ‘user’ and create a profile, the myth is that your profile can never be deleted. As much as my friends and I use this argument to justify not immediately deleting our accounts, there is something to be said about the anxiety within or without this social network. Central to this anxiety is the Foucauldian notion that identity is constructed for others according to a coercive model of subjectivity and surveillance. Facebook is a quintessential panoptic model because it creates the illusion of automatism where social relations actually conform to a set discourseare in fact governed by its own discourse.
After reading Foucault’s “Discipline and Punishment” I began to think about our participation on the Internet, and how Facebook renders this participation even more transparent. According to Foucault, the panoptic model of Western institutions is disciplinary to the extent that subjects internalize this coercion (PAGE). Like Panopticism, information isn’t made available to better know our world or ourselves, rather information is deployed to create us as consumers and users. Yet our participation ‘On-line’ is considered to be a kind of freedom the Internet is considered above hierarchal institutions in the real world. Is the Internet an assymetrical model of panoptic control? Foucault would argue that like the prisoner, our every click is visible and every screen backlit and surveyed (Foucault 548). Our voyeuristic participation, it could be argued, has been a slow conditioning of ‘the gaze’ from cinema to television, the Internet, instant messaging, and now—Facebook.
What are we talking about when we critique the concept of the ‘Internet’ or ‘Facebook?’ As objects of study, these networks themselves prove elusive and untraceable. Again, this is part of the panoptic model of social control. Foucault writes that political instruments for acquiring and creating a knowledge of the body are “diffuse, rarely formulated in continuous, systematic discourse…it is generally no more than a multiform of instrumentation…Moreover, it cannot be localized in a particular type of institution or state apparatus” (549) Likewise, the Internet is not one institution, nor can one institution be analyzed according to the end effect. From the participant’s perspective, there are no boundaries to the ‘actions’ of the Internet, and therefore the Internet appears to be an arbitrary creation of usership at any one point in time. In other words, through individual’s creative input, the Internet exists. But this is also flawed. Foucault’s point is that in the absence of violent control, social institutions have created an asymmetrical discourse that makes it impossible to think outside the Internet. This is a difficult notion to wrap one’s head around.
Furthermore, a Foucauldian analysis of subjectivity and surveillance provides insight into how coercive structural implications of social media are normalized. I remember the giddy excitement my seventh grade self felt when a new first instant message popped up on the browser. Then, it was slightly eerie that my friend was waiting for my reply at that very moment. Now, however I feel comfortable with the idea, and take part in a new level of intrusive behavior. As Foucault contends, “Power-knowledge is not who is or is not free in relation to the power system, but, on the contrary, the subject who knows, the objects to be known…” (550). I know the extent to which Facebook influences my understanding of mine and others’ exhibitionism, but do I realize the extent to which my exhibitionism is controlled through and analyzed within Facebook? Commercially, Facebook has revolutionized the way the Internet monitors our consumer choices and behaviors.
Not only do the pop-ads on the sidebar show Facebook’s attentiveness to the interests that I put forth on my profile, but my Facebook is an “enclosed segmented space, observed at every point…in which the slightest movements are supervised, in which all events are recorded, in which power is exercised without division, according to a continuous hierarchical figure, in which each individual is constantly located, examined, and distributed…” (Foucault 552). I am an actor in constructing my own script—through wall postings, photos, and profile information. Yet this script, in its individualized visibility, “is a trap” (554). To be a part of this surveillance system, one must first conform to a “system of permanent registration” (551), a process that requires one to submit to “binary division and branding, coercive assignment, of differential distribution…” (553). To create a profile, one must choose an identity (gender, sexuality, poltical, geographical, religious) on Facebook’s terms. In a previous class, we tried to create a profile on Facebook that didn’t identify according to gender or sexuality, and it was absolutely impossible. In sum, behaviors and identities on Facebook are in fact rule-governed, and therefore coercive.
Despite the fact that our participation as visible subjects is so obvious, there is anxiety at the sheer number of temporary observers and guilt at our own surveillance of others. Think about the number of pictures you untag for instance. You can’t delete them, why disassociate them from your name when everyone knows that was you with a mullet in the 4th grade? A leading neuroscientist thinks this is because social networking induces the “infantilisim of the mind” and “extreme narcissism.” If this is true, what does this mean for the economic or social utility of Facebook in the real world? Foucault thought that power sought to create subjectivities according to social utility and productivity. Apart from its commercial value, the time we spend on Facebook does not appear to be of any utilitarian value. Rather, if it threatens our work productivity and destabilizes identity, how can this possibly be valuable in the real world? Lets just hope Facebook continues to make poor choices in layout—or even begins to charge for use—then what point will there be in taking part? The illusion with Facebook is that these social relations are in fact created in virtual networking. I do believe they will exist before and after I log on.

The 'Conspiracy Theory' Theory

When we starting studying some of the structuralism theorists, I started looking for the hidden overarching structure behind things in my everyday life in order to find something about which to blog during the month of February. When I looked for structures in literary texts I was reading for other classes, the logic behind the theory seemed pretty straightforward. It was enlightening to see how writer where influenced by ideological structures or social structures. The editors of our text describe structural as a theory that see “culture, like language, [as] a system characterized by an internal order of interconnected parts that obey certain rules of operation,” and, once I began to notice the internal order of things I could recognize the rules of operation. This was supposed to inform my own actions, and, hopefully, help me make more intellectual choices. However, when I started looking for structures of internal order, I started feeling like a conspiracy theorist and, frankly, a little paranoid.

Structuralism resembles conspiracy theories, because it takes something unexplained gives it a comprehensive and innate logic—a logic that assumes there is an ‘interested party’ who is manipulating the situation (ie the facts, the plot, the language, etc) to some degree in order to reach a desired conclusion (that is, the ‘meaning’ of the novel). Professor Suh warned us that theory would change the way we looked at the world; similarly, conspiracy theories color perceptions. Structuralism as a theory informed the way I looked at everything I did, but, as enlightening as that is, life took a very marginalized form. When my sister told me her dream, I was repulsed by the Freudian implications that arose in my theory-driven mind, my favorite Poe short story took an irritatingly nihilistic turn, and capitalism, in the form of lunch at a fast food restaurant, became the source of all evil that killed my rags to riches dream. I was bitten by the theory bug, and, like a lunatic conspiracy theorist, I was a little nutty about seeing only the abstract in every mundane daily interaction.

A scene from a television show, The Pretender, allows us to take a closer look at the delusions of a conspiracy theorist. Jarod, the titular star of the show (and not the conspiracy theorist), has the intelligence and empathy to assume the careers and roles of any person in society. He assumes the role of a surgeon after reading medical texts for a short period of time and becomes probably the best doctor in the hospital. His value was not just in picking up skills merely from books, but in recreating real-life situations because he understood how situations made people feel. He supposedly solved a test-pilot accident by mentally recreating the mindset of the pilot as the plane was crashing. This ability makes him a “pretender,” someone who can pretend to be someone else. A secret organization called the Center attempts to use Jarod’s gifts before he escapes and becomes a vigilante for justice.

During one of his assumed jobs, Jarod encounters a crazy old man, who believes that aliens try to mind read people through television. The man clearly can’t tell that Jarod is part of a real conspiracy, but he is paranoid about everyday objects like television. It turns out that this innocuous old man was a part of the Manhattan Project, and he feels guilty about the bombing of Hiroshima. So, he tries to expose the truth, any truth, that he fears is being covered up in order to commit atrocities. Jarod identifies with him, and, eventually, tells him to check out the Center and start exposing its activities. The old man misses one level of cover-up—Jarod’s work at the Center—because he is so fixated on a crazy theory.

This introduces the idea of multiplicity that Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari discuss in their breathtakingly beautiful work, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Structuralism, as a theory, doesn’t exclude the notion of having other structures that help explain any one text or subject, but Deleuze and Guattari go even farther in saying that each theory in itself is what they call an assemblage. Additionally, they recognize that such structures aren’t actually there, but are helpful in interpreting works. The perception of a real structure undermines structuralists’ analysis. Like the old man failed to recognize the subversion of a normal roles within his conspiracy structural perception of the world (normal humans and aliens attempting to harm us), he didn’t realize that Jarod was masquerading as a normal human, a test-pilot, when he is really linked to a secret organization that had its own self-interested if not malignant intentions in mind.

Deleuze and Guattari’s introduction to post-structuralism replaces the 'conspiracy theory' theory with a networking-style theory. They use the analogy of rhizomes, but it reminds me of something another English course called quotationalism. Literature is known for quoting other literary works. When an allusion is made, it signifies the entire of the other text merely by referencing it. Quotationalism allows writers, or television shows, take short-cuts or strengthen their arguments by evoking supplementary texts and recognizing the multiplicity within their original concept. While multiple allusions in literature make the work obtuse, television easily transmits thousands of visual analogies and verbal allusions in every show. Thus, shows like The Highlander gets referenced in Saturday Night Live skits about the Jonas Brothers and connect three target audiences—40-somethings, college students, fourteen year old girls—in a way that is funny but also unconsciously acknowledges the unreliable nature of framing things with structures.

If any of these audiences didn’t understand the references, the SNL jokes wouldn’t hit home, but the obscure references would still be ridiculous and therefore funny. Likewise, when we acknowledge the illusonary nature of theories, we can frame a situation in a way that makes it easier to understand without becoming paranoidly attached to that particular interpretation. Theory is a tool, and not all theories are applicable to every instance. Freud doesn't need to define all dreams, and Lacan doesn't have to have the last word on Poe. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, Freud and Lacan will be there. After all, what's a good conspiracy without that lurking doubt?

Zoe Adler: The Human Rhizom

After my preliminary reading of Deluze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus I found that I seemed to instantly connect with the notion of continuous experiences. At first, I was not completely sure as to why my interest was particularly peaked. Perhaps it was my seventh grade anarchist re emerging, working to abolish the social boundaries forcing us to “render imperceptible, not ourselves, but what makes us act, feel, and think” (Deluze and Guattari, 378). Or it could be the focus on introspection and individuality, proving that everything in the world is different depending on who experiences it. Maybe it was grasping the concept of a rhizome, which is made of plateaus allowing “a continuous, self-vibrating region of intensities whose development avoids any orientation toward a culmination point or external end” (D&G, 378) thus abolishing the notion of specific beginning and ending points. Overall I decided that my interest was initially peaked by the universality proposed, possibly appealing to my inner hippie vouching for everyone loving each other and somehow finding a connection. Taking this underlying concept I instantly thought about my web of friends and interestingly enough as I reread A Thousand Plateaus I began to draw more and more information leading me to believe I, Zoe Adler, am a rhizome, with “no beginning or end…between things,” (D&G, 378).

Social unity has always been extremely important in my life. More simply put, I love my friends and they have always been a huge part of my life. It goes beyond that though, it seems that somehow it is made evident who is destined to be my closest friends because they simply keep reappearing in my life with no discernable pattern or timeline, a kind of “cyclic unity of the eternal return” (D&G, 380). However through my constantly expanding social roots I am able to continue meeting new people while simultaneously preserving my old friendships. Another aspect of my social plateau that interests me is the fact that none of my best friends get along, which reminded me of the statement “not every trait in a rhizome is necessarily linked to a linguistic feature” (D&G, 380) implying that not all of my friends need to be tied together in any emotional form. Further it reveals that friendship and social situations do not necessarily have clear-cut reasons for happening; some of my closest friends are people who could not be more different from myself. What it comes down to is that like myself, “any point of a rhizome can be connected to anything other, and must be” (D&G 380). This coincides with my desire to relate to people on new levels, and I feel that our societal environment would be changed exponentially if everyone simply attempted to go out of their comfort zone and attempt to cordially connect and relate to others. As corny as it may be, I truly believe kindness and strong social bonds are extremely important.

Now, to most it would not seem strange to have the same people in your life from the ages of about four to eighteen, but with my particular case it is fairly surprising. By attending various alternative and private schools I was never ensured that people from my neighborhood would be attending school with me. Let me explain the two main friendships prompting me to think that people return to my life for a reason.

Cayley Bowles and I first attended school together at the age of 5, but were not friends. We were acquainted with one another at a very young age, forgot about each other, and continued with our rigorous elementary school academic career. In third grade I switched schools and left Cayley behind without a second thought. We had never done anything together outside of school and therefore in my mind we were not friends, I simply knew who she was. Later, in fourth grade, my mom began working with Cayley at my old elementary school and we saw each other a bit more often. However it was sporadic, only a couple times, and ceased to continue. When middle school rolled around Cayley somehow, completely independent of one another, appeared at the same student welcome party that I did involving a quaint class of 32 girls. What were the odds? I was so surprised to see her there! We still were not very close, not to mention we could not be more different. Cayley spent half of her life in the water playing water polo, another quarter playing soccer, and then left her spare time to swimming. I have never enjoyed athletics much, and was intimidated by her tomboy appearance. We then decided to carpool out of convenience, and continued to do so for the next three years, everyday! Ultimately we went to different high schools, but would always run into each other and began to get closer. Our friendship actually blossomed at different schools, which I feel is interesting. Rhizomes have “lines that always connect back to each other” (D&G, 382) just as Cayley and I always seem to be reunited. Many could have marked the end of our friendship at the end of middle school, but that “is a regrettable characteristic of the Western mind…” attempting “to relate expressions and actions of exterior or transcendent ends, instead of evaluating them on a plane of consistency,” (D&G, 384)

Another one of my best friends, Julia Shapiro, first appeared in my second half of elementary school. Again we knew each other but were not close. She also attended my all girls’ middle school, and we became close in seventh grade. Coincidentally she lives on the same street as Cayley, also. We went our separate ways for high school, but when I switched high schools junior year it turns out that she was attending the same school. Then, we developed our friendship and have remained very close.

Although these stories sound fairly simple, it is pretty strange in Palo Alto and is unique to my family as well. Interestingly, Cayley and Julia have no interest in each other and do engage in any form of communication whatsoever. Thus revealing that there is never any discernible answer, no absolute solutions or conclusions that can be drawn because each experience depends on the individual. Lastly, it seems that Cayley and Julia seem to be appearing in my life with no fixed time pattern. There will always be deviations and I think of our friendships as continuous planes, just as a rhizome is made up of endless plateaus.

Blood Sucking Fiends

The inspiration for this blog came from my observation of the multitude of recurring vampire images that occur in the media today. The vampire myth has been around for millennia. Figures that compare to our modern understanding of vampires existed in Mesopotamia, Hebrew culture, Ancient Greece and Rome, Southeastern Europe, and many others. Vampires have been discussed in popular literature (Bram Stoker anyone?), psychopathology, myths, and there is even talk of political overtones. There are many different myths and roots of the vampire, but it is interesting that there is such a large wave of new vampire media.

In the movie industry, there is of course the Twilight craze, based on a novel by Stephanie Meyer, this interpretation is based on a love story, and is typically associated with romance and morality. Also, I recently saw Let The Right One In, a Norwegian film that won 42 awards in the indie circuit about a young vampire who befriends a young boy. This film was more concerned with an exploration of the more classical vampire myths themselves. Television has True Blood, an HBO series with the premise that vampires exist in modern society and have “come out” after synthetic blood allows them to coexist peacefully with humans. This series seems to explore the political side of the vampire myth. There is a lot of references to minority legislation, as well as the coexistence of human law with a higher law—in this case the vampires have their own governing body--. Literature has Twilight, and I believe Anne Rice still makes vampire books. Newcomer Christopher Moore wrote two books, You Suck, and Bloodsucking Fiends. His novels are satirical comedy. The vampire functions only to carry out an absurd plot where the idea that someone is a vampire is more of a nuisance and something to be mocked than an otherworldly concept to be revered or feared. Little kids have been dressing up as vampires for Halloween for years. There are sexual fetishes and pornography that adopt this myth. It seems you can find vampires anywhere you look. I’m actually interested in looking at these trends for a thesis topic, but for the purpose of this post, I would like to interpret this according to Deleuze’s and Guattari’s excerpted work, “A Thousand Plateaus.”

“A Thousand Plateau’s” as we discussed in class, has many different subjects and specific concepts that it explores, but I believe the discussion is centered on their metaphor of the rhizome and especially the relation of the rhizome to books and literature. The rhizome, according to Deleuze and Guattari is defined by its relation to other parts. “A rhizome as subterranean stem is absolutely different from roots and radicles” ( RR 380). Beyond this simple definition of a subterranean stem, they define its existence by several properties including its connections and heterogeneities, multiplicities, and asignifying ruptures. When applying these principles to books, the idea is that the book is an “assemblage” of all these different rhizomes and the roots and stems that grow from them. “To attribute the book to a subject is to overlook this working of matters and the exteriority of their relations” (RR 378). They are debunking the structures, even chapter structures, that we typically assume mean beginnings and ends. Deleuze and Guattari argue that even chapters exist as plateaus that must be understood in multiple and in converging circular structures. I believe that this concept can be used to understand myths and recurring metaphors, analogies, and archetypes in a similar manner, especially with vampires.

As previously stated, there is no one singular story that is understood as the original vampire. The myths and characteristics have so many variables, it’s impossible to pinpoint almost any characteristic other than the drinking of blood as a unifying theme. Some vampires are mortal, some immortal. Some must kill their victims to survive, some can drink to sate their thirst only. Some vampires can’t be seen in mirrors, and some vampires can only be killed by a wooden stake through their hearts. I think the point is clear that there are many different vampires in the world, and they take many shapes and forms. Vampires are like rhizomes, “all we know are assemblages” (RR 385). These assemblages establish “connections between certain multiplicities drawn from each of these orders, so that a book has no sequel nor the world as its object nor one or several authors as its subject” (RR 385).

Deleuze and Guattari’s argument seems to say that most things are rhizomatic if you will. So why is it important that one particular myth fits their formula for being (in a simplistic sense) indefinable? Without making profound post-modern statements about the nature of thought, I think it’s important to establish that even the least educated; most “average” of citizens has accepted and internalized this argument. There aren’t thousands of screaming girls heckling Robert Pattinson because Stephanie Meyer didn’t adhere to Stoker’s notion of a vampire. They’re there because he’s objectively quite attractive and his character is quite the fantasy. People indulge in these fantasies and stories for so many reasons and their significance is so difficult to pin down to one thing. That is why there are so many explorations. If there was just one story why would anyone care. If there was only one story then there would be no such thing as human individuality, variances of style, or even different plotlines for us to indulge in. I think as literature lovers in this class we can all appreciate the variety that Deluze and Guattari defend.

Change over time essays vs Lab Reports

As a student, I have the opportunity to take many classes from a diverse array of departments. My high school strongly emphasized history and social studies; and therefore, as a high school student, I followed my peers and took World History and US history. In two classes, I was trained to eradicate everything I know about writing essay and start from scratch. I fact, I remember my teacher giving a distinct, strict, structure to write my change-over-time essay, an essay that focuses how a specific region or country changes over a span of time. In this structure, the first sentence always contains the time period and location of my essay topic. The body paragraph focuses on one of the following seven topics: Social, Political, Religious, Intellectual, Technological, Economical, and Environmental (SPRITEE, as she called it). Lastly, the concluding paragraph is a summary of the paper and contains a repetition of the thesis.

As I moved onto college, I decided to focus on Chemistry rather than History. Therefore, I took General Chemistry, Organic Chemistry, and Physical Chemistry. In these courses, rather than writing change-over-time essays, I had to write lab reports. I had to once again learn rewire my brain to write my lab reports. The lab reports are divided into various sections: Abstract, Introduction, Materials and Methods, Results, and Discussion. The Abstract and the Introduction sections contain the background information. The Results section contains all of the concrete, qualitative and quantitative data. Finally, the Discussion section is dominant and most important part of the lab report. The Discussion contains all of the interpretation of the data and the reason why the data came out as it did.

Therefore, in writing lab reports I have to use a wholly new method of thinking and writing. Lab reports are rather stratified in comparison with change-over-time essays. In the lab reports all of the analysis is located in the Discussion section, and in the change-over-time, the analysis is located in the body paragraph, which makes up nearly 70% of the essay. Additionally, in lab reports, I focus on a hypothesis or theory and in the change-over-time essays, I focus on a thesis. A distinct difference between the two is that in writing the lab report, I set out to see if the hypothesis holds true and is not incorrect and in writing the change-over-time I have to set out to convince the reader that my thesis is correct. The lab reports hold an apologetic tone of voice. I can only prove that my hypothesis is not incorrect. Conversely, change-over-time essays hold a strong, affirmative, “my view is correct” tone of voice. I have to convince the reader that my thesis is true and correct. There exists a difference in the tone of voice because the mindset that is needed to write a lab report is different from that needed to write a change-over-time essay.

In science, everything is uncertain. Scientists set out to observe the world and create hypotheses. Once the hypotheses have been tested numerous times over and still hold up, the hypotheses then become theories. Theories are therefore not proven facts; they are just firm hypotheses. It takes hundreds of experiments to create a theory out of a hypothesis; however, it only takes one experiment that disproves the theory in order to thrash that particular theory. Science is a field built upon uncertainties and questions. Science can never make a theory into a fact. Therefore, when writing the lab report, I cannot prove that my hypothesis is correct. I can only prove that it is not incorrect. Therefore, I cannot take a “my view in correct” tone of voice. Analogously, historians set out to observe the world and create theories. However, in history, everything is based on perspective. The history recounted by the conqueror is different from that recounted by the conquered, but both histories are correct. Because history is based on perspective, historians take an affirmative, authoritative tone in presenting their theories. Historians want to convince the reader that his take on history is correct one, that his take on history is better than other historians. Therefore, because of the different purpose and mindset of Chemists and Historians, they use different methods and languages when writing.


Looking at the striking differences between change-over-time essays and lab reports, I realize that Mikhail Bhaktin’s essay “Discourses in the Novel,” is absolutely applicable to my life. The language of History and the Language of Chemistry are vastly different. The differences arise from the differences in the mindsets of Chemists and Historians. They both set out to explore the world and tests theories. However, scientific theories are based on experiments and can be easily shot down. Therefore, scientists cannot prove their theories; they can only not-disprove their theories. Thus, lab reports do not contain the authoritative tone of voice. Historians, however, do hold an authoritative tone of voice. A large portion of historical theories is based on perspective rather than experimental evidence. Therefore, historians use the authoritative tone of voice to convince the reader their perspective is the correct one. Bhaktin states that language serve its own social-political purpose. I can see that the language of chemistry is different from the language of history because each has its own purpose and mindset.

Michael Scott, Reluctant Capitalist

Marxist Theory and "The Office"

I happened to read Marx’s essays “Wage Labor and Capital” and “Capital” moments after watching the latest episode of my favorite TV show, “The Office.” It occurred to me that many of the aspects of capitalist ideology that Marx examines, especially the development of the wage worker’s identity through, around, and in spite of, his work, are exemplified by the show. If you have little experience with “The Office,” I recommend taking twenty minutes to watch this episode from Season 1, titled “Health Care”, which deals with many of the Marxist ideas I will address here: http://www.livevideo.com/video/4C1349D7BB054F61BBEAD14974C1F5B4/theofficeus103.aspx

To provide a little background, “The Office” is a scripted comedy presented in a documentary format. It is ostensibly a compilation of footage of the employees of Dunder Mifflin, a paper supply company. The only footage of the characters’ lives that we the audience are able to view is that which takes place during their nine to five workday and within the confines of the physical office. Any scenes outside of the office usually depict interactions between coworkers only—rarely are there any characters that do not hold a position at Dunder Mifflin.

This storytelling perspective lays bare what Marx means when he says that life for the wage worker begins where his wage-earning activity ceases (660). At first, it may seem strange that we know very little of the characters’ families, living situations, and other aspects of their lives that are generally conceived as integral to personal identity. The show positions us as a silent coworker—we know the characters in the same, snapshot-like manner that we know our actual coworkers in everyday life. However, through the Marxist lens, we are seeing in a very literal way the majority of their life experiences. The fact of the matter is that these people, like us, spend the majority of their lives behind a desk in an office, engaging in relationships that they often consider inconsequential in their “actual” lives, the real life that begins after the workday ends, according to the capitalist myth of individualism.

Much of the humor of the show hinges on the inherently awkward and stiff interactions between the coworkers, on the discomfort of daily interactions and the power of the unsaid. Even the relationship between Jim and Pam, the great romance of the show, begins as a festival of sexual frustration and unclear relationship boundaries. This relates to Marx’s ideas regarding the disintegration of interpersonal relationships in the capitalist system.

The comic device of the awkwardness of everyday relationships reaches its zenith in the character of Michael Scott, the regional manager. As I read Marx, I began to note that Michael’s painful ineptitude seems to stem from his inability to find his place within a distinctly capitalist workplace. He is uncomfortable in his leadership role and defines himself as a “friend first and a boss second” while continually blending the public with the private. Michael’s actions are often offensive, but they can be seen as his attempts to humanize his interactions with those that work beneath him. The show often implies that Michael has no friends outside of Dunder Mifflin, and he often refers to the office as a family. Unlike the audience and the other characters on the show, Michael does not characterize the hours of nine to five as different from a personal, outside, individual life. He is unable to accept the commodification of the individual, the idea that, especially in the workplace, the “definite social relation between men, that assumes, in their eyes, the fantastic form of a relation between things” (667). Rather than treat his coworkers as slaves, he is trying to make the office for them what it is to him: the rewarding center of his life. Within the capitalist system, this endeavor is fundamentally absurd.

The other office workers, like Marx’s wage workers, are incredibly detached from their actual work; when Jim tries to describe for the documentarian what he does on a daily basis, he trails off, saying, “I’m boring myself right now.” One character does nothing at the company, and spends his time carefully concealing this fact. As the factories Marx saw during his lifetime, it is a passionless and soulless workplace. It is made clear that no one in the office feels fulfilled by his job, but they are all terrified of being fired; the job is their sole means of survival. Hence the biting irony when Michael remarks, “The office is where dreams come true!”

As we discussed in class, many of Marx’s ideas lose their strength as the capitalist system becomes increasingly more complex. Michael is not a true “boss” in Marx’s conception of capitalism in that he, too, is a wage worker. Strict hierarchies exist within Dunder Mifflin, but there is no great capitalist at the helm. Although Dunder Mifflin seems to be a perfectly capitalist company, in that they begin and end the commodity exchange process with money, they do not control the means of production. They buy paper from manufacturers and sell it to corporate clients. The entire company functions as a wage worker. Like the working class in Marxist theory, the employees of Dunder Mifflin “possess nothing but their capacity to labor” to serve their suppliers and clients (663). Indeed, employees’ only response to criticism that warehouse chain stores like Office Depot are more efficient is that Dunder Mifflin provides better customer service. This feeble claim exemplifies what Marx means when he says that the worker “not only replaces what he consumes but gives to the accumulated labor a greater value than it previously possessed” (663). The fact that we laugh at Dunder Mifflin’s attempts to justify higher prices reveals the extent to which the individual has been commodified in the capitalist system: Why on earth would we want to pay more for customer service?

The series is pervaded by a hopeful sorrow that seems to define the role of the individual in the capitalist system. This doomed hope is perhaps best personified by the character of Jim. He begins the show hating his job, and not caring if he gets laid off or not. However, as his romance with Pam progresses, he holds himself more and more accountable for his own success or failure; his apathy falls away and is replaced with a genuine desire to succeed in a career at Dunder Mifflin. Now that he has proposed to Pam and has bought a house for them, his job is far more central to his life. It is now the means by which their family will survive in the future, and Jim has abandoned the hope of progressing on to something about which he is more passionate. “The Office” demonstrates how the capitalist system forces participants to conform to its model not through force, but through coercion: in the end, they are convinced that they are actually passionately invested in the system. They see themselves not as slaves in an exploitative system but as active agents responsible for their own survival.

I find that the most interesting thing about this process is how happy I am for all of the characters. I am happy that Jim is taking responsibility in his career; I am thrilled when Michael’s genuine regard for people shines through his idiocy; I rejoice in the little and ultimately useless ways the characters cope with the absurdity of the system. I am happy when the system, in some perverse, nonsensical way, seems to work out for people. It’s this strange winking sign of life peeking out from behind the dull acceptance that attracts me to “The Office.” And when I feel mediocre, useless, dehumanized, and helpless, it reminds me that I am not alone.