The Twenty-First Century has, since 2001, been bereft of landmark political or social moments. The key word here is “landmark,” indicating a fixed point in time after which the ideological apparatus in place before the event can no longer function, such is the impact it has on society, economics and culture. This is hardly surprising, since 9/11 shattered what was quite possibly the West’s last frontier in its ability to be shocked, and was the last “where were you when…?” moment in living memory. As the Twenty-First Century has unfolded, global events have occurred in what feels like a steady trickle, owing not only to the First World’s new-found numbness to devastation and outrage, but also to the way in which events have been relayed to us. In the fifteen years since the towers collapsed, the ingestion of current affairs has gradually slipped away from the static television screen and become something experienced singularly (one-on-one) through portable, streamlined devices. Before the internet, the news was fed to us daily at precise quarters of a clock, with the 6 and 9 PM installments reserved for in-depth investigations into the ramifications of the day’s events. This may well still be the case, but it is now by no means how we initially learn of these events, which are continuously fed to us via the offices of internet newsfeeds which have no beginning or end, and wholesale information dumps such as Twitter. News is no longer dropped on us four times a day around a centralised information hub (i.e. television or radio), but is now with us all day, and can be accessed from any location via mobile phones, tablet and laptops. Wi-Fi has freed us from the necessity of the specific location, and thus the “where were you?” moment can no longer really exist, since such an occasion is marked by more quotidian, tangential social interactions (since social media, we are no longer social beings) – history has always been made in conjunction with analogue discourse to provide context and understanding; the pause for reflection has been superseded by the knee-jerk re-tweet. Is it any wonder, then, that cultural eruptions comparable to that of 1976 have been scarce-to-non-existent during the last decade-and-a-half, and that the cultural satellites of the punk movement can now be bought in Primark on t-shirt racks which also contain images of Miles Davis and Captain America?
In this sense we can quite easily relate the lack of modern social information exchanges and their replacement by personalised feeds of information to a Twenty-First Century flatness, or to put it simply, an age when globally-relevant events are still unfolding on a daily basis but are no longer felt as shockwaves. Without shockwaves there can be no fissures, which is where Twentieth-Century culture once thrived: jazz, pop, punk, Abstract Expressionism, Conceptual Art and the Postmodern break in general all happened as a consequence of events which were felt as they occurred, and carried real consequences, unlike the political pantomimes of today. The ages in which these events happened had their own zeitgeist modelled from the social mood, and are remembered – perhaps rightly or wrongly – for their cultural and social values. In an age which has had no real shockwaves or fissures a void has inevitably been created which has no atmosphere, zeitgeist or – crucially – human analogue. Since domestic concerns are primarily centred around economy, the average Western citizen concerns him or herself with financial survival and the waning scope for prosperity. Occupy, it can be argued, is itself a modified sit-in, grafted from the late-1960s onto the present day and given an Economics degree. Where it has prospered – as opposed to the disenfranchised, disconnected youth of fifty years ago – is in its organisation and the clarity of its voice, both of which can be attributed to technological agencies unimaginable in the last century. We have lost our sense of the epoch-making event, the galvanising force to attempt something different: the rule book is no longer torn up, so much as it is re-told through post-millennial perspectives.
Baudrillard postulated that the Gulf War never took place, and using the same rationale, one can also argue that few have also been the events since the conflict which have been entirely authentic (an aside must be made here to comment on the word “authentic,” since semantic slippage has seen the word move from meaning “original” or “created with absolute faith to an original model to signify that a synthetic product has been made with an eye to the superficial adjuncts [packaging, branding, logo, etc.] which once accompanied similar products and are subject to mass-nostalgia.). Politicians are merely synthetic gestalts of corporate ideologies; crises are either overstated or played-down according to a news agency’s affiliations. None of this is new, of course.
The schizophrenic is subject to fragmented thinking and delusions, synthesises words which make only subjective sense to the patient; repeats words and phrases over and over, each time as if for the first. The schizophrenic displays a lack of emotional expressions, shows little to no enthusiasm and exhibits repetitive, jarring speech abnormalities. Studies have shown that a key environmental factor in the onset of schizophrenia is childhood separation or loss – dislocation from a previous generation. The post-millennial condition is schizophrenic in all of these factors and more. Perhaps the most critical similarity, though, is in the delusional impersonation of established personalities of import without prejudice to the historical or mythological frameworks in which they belong.