By Mr. Bandwidth
Last week, in the spirit of science fiction, the Beastmaster and I started a dialog about what our post-industrial future might look like. As we imagined this post-industrial future, we started to wonder what people living in a world without fossil fuels, combustion engines, and other trappings of industrial civilization would think of all the relics of the industrial era still existing in their days. The Beastmaster suggested that plastics might be the “key physical terminal material” to come out of our current petrol-based civilization, as well as a real emblem of 20th-century consumer capitalism. He wrote: “The fact that so many of our consumer goods are made of long-lasting plastic means that these items will really be around, probably in significant quantities, after the means of their production has become extremely rarefied.”
Imagine that. Imagine a future in which the wreckage of our civilization lies all around, waiting to be used or disposed of. How will people in the future use the junk we leave behind? In Medieval Europe, it was not uncommon to construct buildings of stones recovered from the ruins of Roman buildings, hence the architectural and archaeological “stratification” of a city like Rome, where you can see centuries-old buildings whose foundations reflect a totally different kind of construction than their superstructures do. These buildings reveal deep historical time, legible from the outside like the strata of the earth’s crust. They also remind us that recycling was not invented by environmentalists in the post-1945 era. Recycling has been the normal modus operandi of human civilization since time immemorial. Anthropologists and Cultural Theorists have also called this modus operandi “bricolage”. Bricolage specifically evokes the recombinant, a messy patchwork of stratagems woven together to form the tissue of everyday life - routines, tools, social connections, prestige, money, schedules, etc. But it also suggests an ethical orientation, a preference for using already produced materials to create new things rather than producing new things from scratch again. Seriously: waste not, want not. It is only since the chemical revolution of the 19th century, which enabled us to create non-biodegradable substances for the first time, that we have witnessed the global build-up of excessive quantities of consumer goods, massive waste of natural resources, wide-spread ecological damage, and the byproducts of an industrial civilization out of balance with the needs of the planet and our own species alike - e.g. garbage and the landfills to which it is banished.
When we here at RHD argue, as we have for the last three years, that recombinant culture (say, mashups) reflects something about the character of our current historical era (what we have called the “age of the recombinant”), we mean to say that all of today’s talk about ecology, fossil fuels and wars in the middle east has the same historical context as the mashup: an era of massive overproduction, a crisis of the world system based in industrial capitalism. De-industrialization is clearly upon us, especially from my point of view, writing from south-east Michigan. But I have to disagree with anyone who would claim that we are living in post-industrial times…yet. Today’s moment of crisis over ecology, energy, the petro-chemical industry, geopolitics, economic and cultural globalization, etc. - all of this has to do with the painful transition from an industrial to a post-industrial world, a transition we are still experiencing in full force.
BUT: the capitalist’s waste can be the bricoleur’s bread and butter. In an era of overproduction, there are always free resources to be found if one knows where to look. One must learn to scavenge, to recycle the waste of others, and then one can create NEW CULTURE without creating any NEW WASTE. This requires the ability to do what DIY-ers call “repurposing” materials, or what philosopher Richard Rorty called “recontextualization” - the ability to see beyond the “correct uses” of everyday objects, to adapt them to new uses, to customize, modify, disassemble, reassemble them, or scrap them for parts. This goes as much for the dumpster-diver hunting food as much as for the philosopher crafting new ideas - creating anything “from scratch” means re-using already existing materials. So the Beastmaster wrote: “Within this imagined-but-plausible future, the scope of recombinant material culture expands exponentially. That is to say, many fewer things will be produced, but many more old things will remain. Does this not create the conditions of the classic post-apocalyptic fantasy wherein the world of uses signified by our human-made physical world gets flipped on it’s head a la Mad Max?”
And Mad Max brings us back to where we started: science fiction. The Mad Max series imagines a new civilization rising from the ashes of an old one. It imagines a future in which humans become scrappy, resourceful collectors, traders, and customizers of abandoned consumer goods and military or industrial equipment from a previous age. From the vantage point of our current civilization, Mad Max’s future seems to be both futuristic and barbaric or primitive. It troubles our very conceptions of long-term history, our ideas about history being progressive or regressive, evolving or devolving, etc. But strange as Mad Max’s world may seem to today’s audiences, the recent flare-up in public discussion about global warming, financial crashes, and other apocalyptic scenarios suggests that such a world may not be far off. The key to surviving in such a world would be bricolage, a way of life that embraces recycling, the recombinant, and the whole DIY ethos, the will to be a creative and productive person rather than just a consumer. Imagining such a future in order to inform and critique the present - that is the very purpose of science fiction, after all, isn’t it?