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* researcher in infrastructure futures and theory (University of Sheffield, UK)
* science fiction author and literary critic
* writer, theorist, critical futurist
* dishevelled mountebank

velcro-city.co.uk

orcid.org/0000-0002-3555-843X

www.sheffield.ac.uk/usp/researchschool/students/paulraven

 

Diegetic prototyping: lavatorial mode

2 min read

From a piece about video game toilet design:

Toilets are valuable precisely because they have no real relevance to the game at hand,” says Fullbright’s Steve Gaynor. “They exist as interactive objects to flesh out the ‘realness’ of the game world as a functional place. It’s about supporting player expectation. If there’s a bathroom, there should be a toilet. And if there’s a toilet, it should flush. It’s these little pieces of seemingly pointless interactivity that maintain the illusion of being inside a functional other place, not just a place-shaped box.

[...]

"Many of the environments we go through in games are supposed to have been inhabited by humans. A game might be set in a laboratory, but it needs to make sense for people to be there. And if there are, or were, humans in your environment, you certainly need to fulfil two needs: eating and shitting. Food can be handled simply with, say, food containers littered around the place. But unless the situation is really dire, humans require a specialised place to do their business. So in a way, toilets are part of the justification for having that cool laboratory.

 

Logistics as a network function

4 min read

Logistics is the ultimate in network functions, if not the original network function. Jon Elledge at CityMetric makes a good case out of the enduring suckiness of home delivery firms:

In fact, there might be a structural reason why delivery firms are so often rubbish:  they’re accountable to the wrong people. When you order something online, you don’t pick who delivers it, the retailer does. As a result, you can’t boycott the delivery firm; neither are they the ones liable to compensate you if they screw up. There’s not enough payback for failure.

To make matters worse, many of these firms rely on self-employed drivers (this is particularly so at peak times such as Christmas, but seems to be true all year round). These guys are expected to do something like 100 drops a day, and are paid by the delivery. Leave aside the fact they’re even less accountable to you than their employer is, and consider how this’ll influence their behaviour. They have every incentive to prioritise easy deliveries, and no incentive whatever to care about you. If you’re slow to the door; if it’s difficult to park; if they forget to collect your parcel altogether, then that’s just too bad.

Would boycotting online retailers who use these firms change any of this? Eventually, perhaps. But even if the public were willing to give up its home shopping addiction, the lack of transparency regarding which delivery firms a retailer uses would rather blunt the attack.

The bottom line is that delivering parcels is an expensive game. You need a national network of depots and drivers and, ideally, a call centre (all of which might make one ask if we weren’t better off with a single national Post Office). The business is seasonal; the overheads are high. These are not obviously lucrative firms. It’s just possible that the service we get is the one we’re willing to pay for.

All logistical functions must be collectively owned and monopoly-managed. This is not (only) a political argument, but a network-theoretical argument.

In any network, the "last mile" is hideously resource-intensive, while only the trunk routes ever hit efficiencies of scale related to volume. In any process of privatisation, the trunk route franchises are bought up first, because those economies of scale make for easy profits... but those profits are only possible if you're not also losing money on keeping up the last mile, where economies of scale rarely (if ever) apply. Why should an operator pay for the last mile if they're not operating it, you might ask? Well, because without the last mile feeding traffic to and from the trunk routes, there would be less trunk route traffic to carry. The profits to be made on the trunk routes are actually rent extraction from the last mile; the separation of the two is a financial fiction which can only ever work against optimal function and efficiency. Because once the network is fragmented and the best routes have been bought up, the operator companies can then run the numbers on the last mile operations remaining, point out to councils that they're inherently unprofitable as constituted, and then demand subsidies in exchange for providing last mile connectivity, which the state has no option but to provide (because if people and stuff can't move around, your economy is fucked).

Which is how you end up with the delightful irony of Stagecoach raking in subsidy money from dozens of UK councils in exchange for sparse and sketchy local bus routes, while also running extremely profitable (because separately contracted) franchises on intercity coach routes and train lines. It'd be interesting to run the numbers and see whether the profits of trunk route operators and the subsidies paid out to last mile operators would be anywhere close to cancelling out if you looked at them nationally; my suspicion is that it'd be closer to that than not.

 

The refusal of transactional hope

1 min read

From the mighty Tressie MC:

My hopelessness is faith in things yet seen and works yet done. Hopelessness is necessary for the hard work of resisting tyranny and fascism. It is the precondition for sustained social movements because history isn’t a straight line. It is a spinning top that eventually moves forward but also always goes round and round as it does. Those erasers applied post-mortem confuse us to this, blind us to the defeats that will come and ill prepare us for the reality that most of what we believe in will not come to pass in our lifetimes. A transactional hope is anathema to social progress.

 

The difference between a writer and someone who dreams of being a writer is that the writer has finished.

2 min read

Kate Tempest on writing as a process:

... sometimes everything else disappears, and that happens very rarely. The rest of the time, it’s you writing when you don’t feel like writing, writing when you hate everything that’s coming out, forcing yourself to engage with the idea that it’s going to be shit no matter what you do, and trying to kind of break through that because of a deadline, or because you know that it’s very important to continue. This is what enables you to be a writer.

The difference between a writer and someone who dreams of being a writer is that the writer has finished. You’ve gone through the agony of taking an idea that is perfect – it’s soaring, it comes from this other place – then you’ve had to summon it down and process it through your shit brain. It’s coming out of your shit hands and you’ve ruined it completely. The finished thing is never going to be anywhere near as perfect as the idea, of course, because if it was, why would you ever do anything else? And then you have another idea. And then these finished things are like stepping stones towards being able to find your voice.

The thing is, everybody’s got an idea. Everybody wants to tell me about their ideas. Everybody is very quick to look down on your finished things, because of their great ideas. But until you finish something, I’ve got no time to have that discussion. Because living through that agony is what gives you the humility to understand what writing is about.

Exactly this.

 

Ur-fascism

6 min read

From Umberto Eco's 1995 essay:

1. The first feature of Ur-Fascism is the cult of tradition. [...] Syncretism is not only, as the dictionary says, “the combination of different forms of belief or practice”; such a combination must tolerate contradictions. Each of the original messages contains a silver of wisdom, and whenever they seem to say different or incompatible things it is only because all are alluding, allegorically, to the same primeval truth.

As a consequence, there can be no advancement of learning. Truth has been already spelled out once and for all, and we can only keep interpreting its obscure message.

2. Traditionalism implies the rejection of modernism. [...] The Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, is seen as the beginning of modern depravity. In this sense Ur-Fascism can be defined as irrationalism.

3. Irrationalism also depends on the cult of action for action’s sake. Action being beautiful in itself, it must be taken before, or without, any previous reflection. Thinking is a form of emasculation. Therefore culture is suspect insofar as it is identified with critical attitudes. [...]

4. No syncretistic faith can withstand analytical criticism. The critical spirit makes distinctions, and to distinguish is a sign of modernism. In modern culture the scientific community praises disagreement as a way to improve knowledge. For Ur-Fascism, disagreement is treason.

5. Besides, disagreement is a sign of diversity. Ur-Fascism grows up and seeks for consensus by exploiting and exacerbating the natural fear of difference. The first appeal of a fascist or prematurely fascist movement is an appeal against the intruders. Thus Ur-Fascism is racist by definition.

6. Ur-Fascism derives from individual or social frustration. That is why one of the most typical features of the historical fascism was the appeal to a frustrated middle class, a class suffering from an economic crisis or feelings of political humiliation, and frightened by the pressure of lower social groups. In our time, when the old “proletarians” are becoming petty bourgeois (and the lumpen are largely excluded from the political scene), the fascism of tomorrow will find its audience in this new majority.

7. To people who feel deprived of a clear social identity, Ur-Fascism says that their only privilege is the most common one, to be born in the same country. This is the origin of nationalism. Besides, the only ones who can provide an identity to the nation are its enemies. Thus at the root of the Ur-Fascist psychology there is the obsession with a plot, possibly an international one. The followers must feel besieged. The easiest way to solve the plot is the appeal to xenophobia. But the plot must also come from the inside: Jews are usually the best target because they have the advantage of being at the same time inside and outside. In the US, a prominent instance of the plot obsession is to be found in Pat Robertson’s The New World Order, but, as we have recently seen, there are many others.

8. The followers must feel humiliated by the ostentatious wealth and force of their enemies. [...] However, the followers must be convinced that they can overwhelm the enemies. Thus, by a continuous shifting of rhetorical focus, the enemies are at the same time too strong and too weak. Fascist governments are condemned to lose wars because they are constitutionally incapable of objectively evaluating the force of the enemy.

9. For Ur-Fascism there is no struggle for life but, rather, life is lived for struggle. Thus pacifism is trafficking with the enemy. It is bad because life is permanent warfare. [Cf. Hayek; economics as the continuation of war by other means.]

10. Elitism is a typical aspect of any reactionary ideology, insofar as it is fundamentally aristocratic, and aristocratic and militaristic elitism cruelly implies contempt for the weak. Ur-Fascism can only advocate a popular elitism. Every citizen belongs to the best people of the world, the members of the party are the best among the citizens, every citizen can (or ought to) become a member of the party. But there cannot be patricians without plebeians. In fact, the Leader, knowing that his power was not delegated to him democratically but was conquered by force, also knows that his force is based upon the weakness of the masses; they are so weak as to need and deserve a ruler. Since the group is hierarchically organized (according to a military model), every subordinate leader despises his own underlings, and each of them despises his inferiors. This reinforces the sense of mass elitism.

11. In such a perspective everybody is educated to become a hero. In every mythology the hero is an exceptional being, but in Ur-Fascist ideology, heroism is the norm. [...]

12. Since both permanent war and heroism are difficult games to play, the Ur-Fascist transfers his will to power to sexual matters. This is the origin of machismo (which implies both disdain for women and intolerance and condemnation of nonstandard sexual habits, from chastity to homosexuality). Since even sex is a difficult game to play, the Ur-Fascist hero tends to play with weapons—doing so becomes an ersatz phallic exercise.

13. Ur-Fascism is based upon a selective populism, a qualitative populism, one might say. In a democracy, the citizens have individual rights, but the citizens in their entirety have a political impact only from a quantitative point of view—one follows the decisions of the majority. For Ur-Fascism, however, individuals as individuals have no rights, and the People is conceived as a quality, a monolithic entity expressing the Common Will. Since no large quantity of human beings can have a common will, the Leader pretends to be their interpreter. Having lost their power of delegation, citizens do not act; they are only called on to play the role of the People. Thus the People is only a theatrical fiction. To have a good instance of qualitative populism we no longer need the Piazza Venezia in Rome or the Nuremberg Stadium. There is in our future a TV or Internet populism, in which the emotional response of a selected group of citizens can be presented and accepted as the Voice of the People.

Because of its qualitative populism Ur-Fascism must be against “rotten” parliamentary governments. [...] Wherever a politician casts doubt on the legitimacy of a parliament because it no longer represents the Voice of the People, we can smell Ur-Fascism.

14. Ur-Fascism speaks Newspeak. [...] All the Nazi or Fascist schoolbooks made use of an impoverished vocabulary, and an elementary syntax, in order to limit the instruments for complex and critical reasoning. But we must be ready to identify other kinds of Newspeak, even if they take the apparently innocent form of a popular talk show.

 

Rules for survival in an autocracy

1 min read

From the NYRB; eminently applicable to the UK as well as the US.

  • Rule 1: Believe the autocrat. He means what he says. Whenever you find yourself thinking, or hear others claiming, that he is exaggerating, that is our innate tendency to reach for a rationalization. [...]
  • 2: Do not be taken in by small signs of normality.
  • 3: Institutions will not save you.
  • 4: Be outraged.
  • 5: Don’t make compromises.
  • 6: Remember the future.

Go read the whole thing.

 

Narratology of fine art

1 min read

Later [portraits] were painted for posterity, offering the evidence of the once living to future generations. Whilst still being painted, they were imagined in the past tense, and the painter, painting, addressed his sitter in the third person -- either singular or plural. He, She, They, as I observed them. This is why so many of them look old, even when they are not.

-- John Berger, from Portraits, 2015

(Compare with advertising, which is a present- or future-tense narrative form; "this is why so many of them look new, even when they are not".)

 

The press release is the foremost tool of disruption

4 min read

I'd never heard of Audrey Watters before today; after reading this brilliant dissection of ed-tech futures, I hope to hear a great deal more from her in future.

Here’s my “take home” point: if you repeat this fantasy [of education-sector disruption through technology], these predictions often enough, if you repeat it in front of powerful investors, university administrators, politicians, journalists, then the fantasy becomes factualized. (Not factual. Not true. But “truthy,” to borrow from Stephen Colbert’s notion of “truthiness.”) So you repeat the fantasy in order to direct and to control the future. Because this is key: the fantasy then becomes the basis for decision-making.

Fantasy. Fortune-telling. Or as capitalism prefers to call it “market research.”

Cf. a favourite riff from a few years ago: "investor story-time".

But there's more good stuff:

It’s both convenient and troubling then these forward-looking reports act as though they have no history of their own; they purposefully minimize or erase their own past. Each year – and I think this is what irks me most – the NMC fails to looks back at what it had predicted just the year before. It never revisits older predictions. It never mentions that they even exist. Gartner too removes technologies from the Hype Cycle each year with no explanation for what happened, no explanation as to why trends suddenly appear and disappear and reappear. These reports only look forward, with no history to ground their direction in.

[...]

“The best way to predict the future is to invent it,” computer scientist Alan Kay once famously said. I’d wager that the easiest way is just to make stuff up and issue a press release. I mean, really. You don’t even need the pretense of a methodology. Nobody is going to remember what you predicted. Nobody is going to remember if your prediction was right or wrong. Nobody – certainly not the technology press, which is often painfully unaware of any history, near-term or long ago – is going to call you to task. This is particularly true if you make your prediction vague – like “within our lifetime” – or set your target date just far enough in the future – “In fifty years, there will be only ten institutions in the world delivering higher education and Udacity has a shot at being one of them.”

This is the core trick of the huckstery end of futurology (which is, regrettably, the thicker, more visible and well-funded end); it is also, and not at all incidentally, the core trick of marketing and politics. "What I tell you three times is true."

And here's the glorious rabble-rousing closer:

... I don’t believe that there’s anything inevitable about the future. I don’t believe that Moore’s Law – that the number of transistors on an integrated circuit doubles every two years and therefore computers are always exponentially smaller and faster – is actually a law. I don’t believe that robots will take, let alone need take, all our jobs. I don’t believe that YouTube has been rendered school irrevocably out-of-date. I don’t believe that technologies are changing so quickly that we should hand over our institutions to entrepreneurs, privatize our public sphere for techno-plutocrats.

I don’t believe that we should cheer Elon Musk’s plans to abandon this planet and colonize Mars – he’s predicted he’ll do so by 2026. I believe we stay and we fight. I believe we need to recognize this as an ego-driven escapist evangelism.

I believe we need to recognize that predicting the future is a form of evangelism as well. Sure gets couched in terms of science, it is underwritten by global capitalism. But it’s a story – a story that then takes on these mythic proportions, insisting that it is unassailable, unverifiable, but true.

The best way to invent the future is to issue a press release. The best way to resist this future is to recognize that, once you poke at the methodology and the ideology that underpins it, a press release is all that it is.

Amen.

 

In which I find Amitav Ghosh's missing monocle, and return it to him that he might see more clearly

5 min read

Poor old Amitav Ghosh is wondering where all the fiction about climate change might be... when in fact it's right under his nose, and he simply chooses to disregard it as being insufficiently deserving of the label "literature".

Right in the first paragraph, he answers his question and immediately discards the answer:

... it could even be said that fiction that deals with climate change is almost by definition not of the kind that is taken seriously: the mere mention of the subject is often enough to relegate a novel or a short story to the genre of science fiction. It is as though in the literary imagination climate change were somehow akin to extraterrestrials or interplanetary travel.

If for "literary imagination" we substitute "bourgeois imagination", that last sentence is no surprise at all -- because this is about genre, which is a proxy for class.

And when Ghosh surveys the few examples of supposedly literary fiction that have dealt with climate change, look what happens:

When I try to think of writers whose imaginative work has communicated a more specific sense of the accelerating changes in our environment, I find myself at a loss; of literary novelists writing in English only a handful of names come to mind: Margaret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut Jr, Barbara Kingsolver, Doris Lessing, Cormac McCarthy, Ian McEwan and T Coraghessan Boyle.

Now, I'll concede that most of them have preferred generic labels other than science fiction for their works at one time or another, but it's very hard to make the case that Atwood, Vonnegut and Lessing haven't written works that slip very easily into the sf folksonomy, while McCarthy has written a very successful dystopia. So that's half of Ghosh's successes demonstrably working in the speculative fiction tradition... but they can't be speculative fiction, because they're too good for that trash. They've won awards and stuff -- awards that aren't rocket-shaped. Ipso facto, no?

To his credit, Ghosh gets pretty close to the technical distinction in narrative strategy that demarks the dichotomy he's observing, via one of Moretti's more interesting theory-nuggets:

This is achieved through the insertion of what Franco Moretti, the literary theorist, calls “fillers”. According to Moretti, “fillers function very much like the good manners so important in Austen: they are both mechanisms designed to keep the ‘narrativity’ of life under control – to give a regularity, a ‘style’ to existence”. It is through this mechanism that worlds are conjured up, through everyday details, which function “as the opposite of narrative”.

It is thus that the novel takes its modern form, through “the relocation of the unheard-of toward the background ... while the everyday moves into the foreground”. As Moretti puts it, “fillers are an attempt at rationalising the novelistic universe: turning it into a world of few surprises, fewer adventures, and no miracles at all”.

I offer that the absence of Moretti's fillers -- often but not always replaced with anti-fillers designed to re-enchant the novelistic universe, and make of the universe a character in its own right -- is a way to describe one of the more fundamental strategies of speculative fictions, where it is preferable to have a world with more surprises, more adventures, and more than the occasional deus ex machina). Moretti's fillers are basically the opposite of worldbuilding; they remove complexity, rather than adding it.

And here we see the true root of the problem, the reason no one who identifies as a writer of "serious" "literary" fiction can handle climate change in their work -- look at Ghosh's language, here, and tell me he doesn't feel the class pressure of genre (my bold):

To introduce such happenings into a novel is in fact to court eviction from the mansion in which serious fiction has long been in residence; it is to risk banishment to the humbler dwellings that surround the manor house – those generic out-houses that were once known by names such as the gothic, the romance or the melodrama, and have now come to be called fantasy, horror and science fiction.

It's clearly not that "the novel" as a form can't handle climate change: science fiction novels routinely invert the obstacles set out in Ghosh's piece in order to do their work. It's that to upset those particular obstacles is to break the rules of Literature Club, to go slumming it with the plebes of genre fiction: literary fiction can't write about climate change, or about any other topic that requires an understanding of the storyworld as a dynamic and complex system, because -- as a self-consciously bourgeois genre in its own right -- it cannot commit the sin of portraying a world where the bourgeoise certainties no longer pertain, wherein hazard and adventure and unexpected events are revealed to be not merely routine, but to be the New Normal.

Take it from a squatter in the generic out-houses, Amitav old son: there's only one way you'll ever get literary fiction that deals with climate change -- and that's by acknowledging, however grudgingly, that not only was science fiction capable of being literature all along, but that science fiction began by asking the question whose suppression is the truest trope of the literary: what if the world were more important than the actions of individuals?

 

The difference between information and knowledge: a riposte to Helen Milner on libraries

7 min read

It's been nearly a decade since I was employed in the public library sector, and I thought I'd become immune to reacting with blind fury to every mealy-mouthed consultant that proposes "reinventing" the library for "the digital age"... but apparently not. Here's the latest facile salvo in a war of attrition that's been ongoing for about fifteen years, if not longer, from a "digital inclusion charity", no less. A snippet for flavour:

“Knowledge is no longer just found in books. Increasingly, knowledge, education, history, news and even fiction are found online. Books are not synonymous with knowledge, and they are certainly not synonymous with community. To be community hubs, libraries need to be about social inclusion before books. And digital inclusion is part of that picture.” Helen Milner, Tinder (No, not that Tinder... brilliant bit of misbranding, wot?)

There are two points I'd like to make in response to Milner's transparent shilling for more funding to be diverted in the direction of her own operation.

The first is to peel away the euphemism of "community hubs" and show what that tends to mean in practice. What it has meant for at least a decade is that in addition to the core functions which libraries were intended to provide -- of which more later -- they have long served as spaces of refuge for the homeless, and for those with mental illness; when governments speak of "care in the community", libraries are one of the places it happens. The same goes for troubled and truant adolescents, lonely older people, and the other groups left on the margins by neoliberal socioeconomic dogma. Library staff, especially the frontline staff, have two jobs, if not three: they are library staff, and they are de facto care workers and PCSOs as well (while lacking any of the training or legal protections given to actual care workers and PCSOs, such as it is). And of course "library staffing" also covers the running of the more visible and celebrated "community hub" functions. If you think for a moment library staff spend their days sat on their hands waiting to shush people, then you've clearly not visited one in a long, long time. They're busy, bustling places, and the lending of books is -- tragically, and often quite literally -- the very least of what they do.

And for fifteen years or more, they've also been acting as de facto free-to-air internet cafes, often under the patronising banner of "The People's Network". To be clear, I fully support the provision of internet facilities in libraries, and I support even more fully the provision of free internet access for those unable to access it elsewhere -- not least because the Daniel Blakes of this world need that access in order to avoid being sanctioned for failing to apply for work in the approved manner, which is to say online.

The error was to assume that internet provision for libraries and internet access for more general use could be delivered together. It certainly saved some beancounter somewhere a lot of ugly red marks on a balance ledger, but locating the People's Network in public libraries actively damaged the core functions of libraries -- predominantly by consuming vast amounts of staff time, through dealing with administrivia and managing the resulting queues of people, but also through eating into floor space and operational budget... and also, truth be told, by eating into the image of libraries as places of relative peace and quiet.

Now, my second point: let us recall what a library really is -- or what it was, at any rate. Milner's position seems to be something along the lines of "libraries store information; the internet stores information; but the internet is newer and better and faster and cheaper, and should therefore supplant libraries because [markets]."

This is a dangerous comparison, and this is why: libraries are not merely stores of information, they are curated stores of structured knowledge with the ultimate in natural-language query interfaces, namely human beings trained to understand how to answer the most complicated and random questions imaginable. (And believe you me, people ask some profoundly complicated and random questions of library staff... and those staff take pride in being able to answer them.)

The internet is not a library, because -- considered as a whole -- it is not curated or structured; indeed, these are the considered to be the internet's great selling point (and with some justification). The internet, as people have started to notice, isn't very good at supplying knowledge; there's knowledge out there, but one needs to know where to look for it, how to judge its veracity, which sources can be trusted on which topics. Knowledge is structured information; the internet is just information. 

But before you decry the curation and gatekeepering of knowledge represented by the archaic structures of libraries, recall that the internet has its librarians, too. The bodies now curating and structuring knowledge on our behalf have names like Google, Bing, Microsoft, Facebook. They are not trained to understand people at all; they are trained to provide what the customer wants, even when the customer doesn't know what they want. They are algorithms, larded all through with the implicit biases of their creators. They structure information, but they do not structure knowledge; algorithms can't do knowledge. Knowledge is a cognitive function of sentient beings; it requires not only the sorting and ordering of information, but the parsing and evaluation of information. And no amount of repeating the words "artificial intelligence" or "expert systems" will ever change that fact. Information -- or data, if you prefer -- can only become knowledge through human activity. All an algorithm can do is sort information into vaguely related piles, and let you sift through it yourself.

And that's why we should fear those who would see librarianship disappear, to be replaced by rows of gleaming terminals -- fear them, and fight them to the last. Because whether knowingly or not, they seek overturn a practice that has underpinned civilisation itself for thousands of years, and replace it with a digital teddy-picker.

Think of the inside of a library, for a moment: picture the orderly shelves, the labels on the spines, the ranks of books sorted by subject and topic, the staff waiting to not just give you a book, but give you the book which will best answer the question you've brought.

By comparison, the internet is a warehouse with a huge undifferentiated pile of books in no particular order, staffed by little robots who can find you any book which has the words of your question somewhere in its text, but who always present you with the book that was closest to the top of the pile, on the assumption that it's being on top of the pile means it gets used the most, and must therefore be the most relevant, because otherwise why would people keep asking for it?

That's why we live in a world of Putins, Trumps and Brexits. And that's why if you decide that we need to provide more free internet access for "the people" -- which, to be clear, I think would be a good thing to do -- you either need to separate that provision from library services to some extent, or alternatively provide the funding not only for the terminals and the network connection, but for _more_ trained frontline query staff than ever before, able to teach questioners how to evaluate the information that the algorithms provide -- able to teach people how to build their own knowledge, in other words.

And when you phrase it like that, it becomes pretty clear why the state would be happy to see the library system disappear. "Libraries gave us power," as the Manics once sang -- the power to empower ourselves, to acquire knowledge without being patronised, flattered, or dripfed falsities by partisan media and multinational corporations with expensive agendas to advance.

We mustn't let them take that power away. It was too hard won for that.