When solidarity is organic, anomie is “impossible whenever solidary organs are sufficiently in contact or sufficiently prolonged. In effect, being contiguous, they are quickly warned, in each circumstance, of the need they have of one another, and, consequently, they have a lively and continuous sentiment of their mutual dependence. For the same reason that exchanges take place among them easily, they take place frequently, and in time the work of consolidation is achieved.”[4] Their sensitivity to mutual needs promotes the evolution in the division of labor “because the smallest reaction can be felt from one part to another. ... they foresee and fix, in detail, the conditions of equilibrium." [4]"Producers, being near consumers, can easily reckon the extent of the needs to be satisfied. Equilibrium is established without any trouble and production regulates itself.”[5]
Durkheim contrasted the condition of anomie as being the result of mechanical solidarity: "But on the contrary, if some opaque environment is interposed, then only stimuli of certain intensity can be communicated from one organ to another. Relations being rare, are not repeated enough to be determined; each time there ensues new groping. The lines of passage taken by the streams of movement cannot deepen because the streams themselves are too intermittent.”[6] “Contact is no longer sufficient. The producer can no longer embrace the market at a glance, nor even in thought. He can no longer see its limits, since it is, so to speak limitless. Accordingly, production becomes unbridled and unregulated.”[7]
For a little bit of background, Emile Durkheim is a superstar founder of modern sociological thought. In the midst of the industrial revolution, he wrote about divisions of labor, and the above passage explains the difference between two systems: organic solidarity (think of small towns, farms, preindustrial world, or your local modern day commune) and mechanical solidarity (obvs: industrial labor, scientific management, bureaucracy, probably your first job).
This passage is stuck in my head for a couple of reasons. To start, I was thinking that for all the possibilities and new horizons the internet presents to us, it's still completely dependent on interpersonal engagement, not just interaction but active engagement, to be at all 'organic' in it's growth. For all the brouhaha over web 2.0 (or whatever we're on now), the web is not a shining example of a self regulating structure. As the powers that be get wise, there's no reason to believe that the interwebs won't become the opaque environment Durkheim warns of.
I'm not saying things will get all Upton Sinclair suddenly. I just know that this unwieldy and seemingly anarchic nexus of human communication is being methodically figured out by those who stand to make tons of cash or wield expansive power and influence. Which means that for all our interfacing, for all our online love-ins and congratulating, I still doubt how much more interdependent we've become. Sure, we get the feeling that our actions effect others, that the world is getting smaller. But has the balance of control shifted dramatically?
Even forgetting the powers that be and my dire forecasts, what about the way we view each other? I think the most important point Durkheim makes, if I'm not misinterpreting him, is that mechanical solidarity doesn't just mean no fun at work. It changes the way we interact with each other on a larger scale. This system of labor encourages you to think of people as a means to an end, as a quantifiable value (known quantity to borrow disgusting business parlance). That person my be a threat or an ally or totally worthless to you given circumstances that are apt to change at any moment. And the web is full of ugly examples of this, and I don't mean gossip. At least gossip can be (and has been read) as a community maintaining exercise. I mean the constant posturing and reevaluating that something like say, oh, Pitchfork engenders. You could say that the site is a healthy and vital organ for the independent music community. But, it's not really a community driven entity. It reports and analyzes, but it doesn't open itself up to response, and deals with outside criticism in a roundabout way. It operates like old school media in that way, not always reflecting the democratic, collaborative element of the web. Hell, as Chaz pointed out, they don't even have a letter to the editor/mailbag/comment board. (and yes Chaz, this is me finally admitting you had a good point, a year late). But then again, they put on a sweet festival, and I can't really speak to the inter-workings of the site. Am I the only one who's still mystified as to how they operate? Oh, and I realize how brazenly guilty of this I am. It's one thing to talk about an art object, but to talk about people as art objects, even in praise, is actually despicable now that I think about it for more than a second.
Ok, my mistake. Fuck it, moving on.
There's much more to the concept of anomie and to Durkheim's work that's worth knowing. It's a good counterpoint to classic Marxism (both Soviet Communism and Industrial Capitalism killed organic solidarity at every opportunity). That is to say, just because we have the means of cultural production in our hands, doesn't necessarily mean we're not all going to evil capitalists anyway. It also doesn't suddenly make us all interdependent.
On a personal note, it's good to keep this in mind in the real world. For example, I just played a handful of shows with Abbott Smile. They seem like a blur to me now, and I'm incredibly happy and incredibly thankful for the experiences. But, if you're not careful, you can start to treat people like shit and not always realize it. Or, you start to think of this idea of an audience, like, how can we find an sympathetic audience? You can start to think of the venues, the people running them, your friends who came to see you, other bands, all as means to an end. I've tried to keep that at bay, because it does violence to just about all of my sensibilities. But there is that element to being in a band, or being in any creative endeavor, which leads to the desire for attention or recognition. Part of it is just conceit and selfishness, but part of it is that yearning for the other half of creation, the reaction, the response. And I realized the reason I envy Brooklyn bands, more popular bands, etc, is not the fame or attention. It's that they aren't working in a vacuum. What they do is responded to, debated, critiqued, sometimes appreciated, sometimes imitated. They're part of the larger cultural exchange. And, I guess that's what I want for us, and not just the band, but all of our friends who feel similarly about this. I hope that we can feel like we're in an ongoing conversation with each other.
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