Corporate Cosmopolitans and the End of Place

A recent read: "The Social Theory of Space and the Theory of the Space of Flows" by Manual Castells.

Castells' characterization of "managerial elites" in information society is an interesting (though certainly unintentional) scholarly corroborator to David Brooks' "organization kids" as the heirs of the corporate world. Castells, as I understand him, seems to implicitly rule out any dissenting participation in a corporate cosmopolitan lifestyle, suggesting that complicity in its comfort and homogeneity is mandatory for entrance. Consequently, there's no such thing as "changing the system from the inside" --- you are the system you choose to inhabit. Choose wisely.

Apparently of equal importance for entrance to the elite corporate class is an acceptance of placelessness. This most certainly is not the same rootlessness that has been romanticized and canonized in Beat poetry, and lately co-opted by advertising --- although corporate recruiters would like you to think that it is. This placelessness is a sense that all places are indeed simply different turns on a single, homogenized space. It is therefore a "safe" placelessness. The idealized itinerant wanderer experiences many places as dissimilar entities with distinct historical backgrounds and contexts, and must pay a personal, cultural, or ideological cost to participate in the life of those places. Conversely, corporate cosmopolitans experience many places as simply physical sub-spaces of a single homogenized ideal space, and their experience is insular and without cost. "Cosmopolitan" in this case is a misnomer. "Monopolitan" might be more appropriate, since while these travelers are indeed placeless; they are simply participants in one global, virtual city of the elite, with outposts all over the physical world. Castells calls this the "space of flows" and depending on your point of view, it renders a historically rooted sense of place either quaint and provincial, or completely obsolete.

In his words:

"Articulation of the [technocratic-financial-managerial] elites, segmentation and disorganization of the masses seem to be the twin mechanisms of social domination in our societies. Space plays a fundamental role in this mechanism. In short: elites are cosmopolitan, people are local. The space of power and wealth is projected throughout the world, while people's life and experience is rooted in places, in their culture, in their history. Thus, the more a social organization is based upon ahistorical flows, superseding the logic of any specific place, the more the logic of global power escapes the socio-political control of historically specific local/national societies." (pp. 415-416)

...

"A second major trend of cultural distinctiveness of the elites in the informational society is to create a lifestyle and to design spatial forms aimed at unifying the symbolic environment of the elite around the world, thus superseding the historical specificity of each locale. Thus, there is the construction of a (relatively) secluded space across the world along the connecting lines of the space of flows: international hotels whose decoration, from the design of the room to the color of the towels, is similar all over the world to create a sense of familiarity with the inner world, while inducing abstraction from the surrounding world; airports' VIP lounges, designed to maintain the distance vis-a-vis society in the highways of the space of flows; mobile, personal, on-line access to telecommunications networks, so that the traveler is never lost; and a system of travel arrangements, secretarial services, and reciprocal hosting that maintains a close circle of the corporate elite together through the worshipping of similar rites in all countries.

"Furthermore, there is an increasingly homogeneous lifestyle among the information elite that transcends the cultural borders of all societies: the regular use of SPA installations (even when traveling), and the practice of jogging; the mandatory diet of grilled salmon and green salad, with udon and sashimi providing a Japanese functional equivalent; the "pale chamois" wall color intended to create the cozy atmosphere of the inner space; the ubiquitous laptop computer; the combination of business suits and sportswear; the unisex dressing style, and so on. All these are symbols of an international culture whose identity is not linked to any specific society but to membership in the managerial circles of the informational economy across a global cultural spectrum." (p. 417)


For those of us who have a developed sense of place and a deep love of our particular cities, this is a frustratingly divisive mentality. It is emotionally charged, and can be alienating. It suggests that the only thing to value in a real place is what it can offer you --- in terms of material, ambiance, and convenience. Localized communal narrative is of no value in this scheme. Corporate globalism, if it is to maximize its profits and economies of scale, must necessarily enforce a cultural and historical amnesia that eliminates local distinctiveness. If we carry this to its logical conclusion, we might as well bulldoze every city in America except New York and Los Angeles. Whatever they got here they got there, right?

...

But why is this so polarizing? I think that those of us who desire and work to have a sense of place --- who love our built environments first and foremost because they're ours (not for what they offer us) --- often feel that something is wrong with us when we are repulsed by a set of values that seems to enjoy wide acceptance among educated people. Those of us who reject or critique cosmopolitan corporate life are regularly regarded by other educated people (often organization kids) as either unsophisticated or simply contrarian.

I was angry as I was reading the Castells piece because it was validating and giving credence to many of these discomforts, by speaking into them with a broader voice that could articulate things for which I previously couldn't find a vocabulary. I don't mean I was angry at Castells, I mean I was angry because the text facilitated a transition from "I don't like this [a matter of preference or taste]" to "this is wrong [a matter of broader moral consequence]". That's a crucial turn to take. The potential disappearance of our historically distinct places into a nebulous global space is not just an abstract semantic change, not just a paradigm shift; it is a loss with a moral component. It is a tragedy.

How can this tragedy be articulated? We're generally very uncomfortable when people make broad categorical statements in a moral space. But I think the problem with those statements is not that they are broad or categorical or moral, but that they haven't gone through the process of wider validation, reflection, or scrutiny --- they're just made out of the initial emotion with no filter. What we're actually uncomfortable with is the implicit assumption that the problem is never with me but always with the world/system/whatever. But the opposite "always/never" statement isn't true either. The problem is not always with me (that is to say: not everything is a matter of taste or comfort or culture). So the question is not whether it is right or wrong to make categorical statements in moral domains (a moral question about moral questions?), but rather how do I negotiate the intersections and divergences of the brokenness in myself with the brokenness in the world? How can I tell when I'm uncomfortable because I'm broken, versus uncomfortable because the world is broken? Our hearts have valid things to say to us (this is something I have to relearn over and over) that are rooted in truths beyond just our preferences. There is a critical and beautiful process of realizing "this isn't due to my brokenness [though I am broken], I am perceiving aright, the world is broken and I can see it."

I think Castells is helping me contextualize more broadly those elements of my past experiences. It's easy to answer the question "what don't I like about this situation?" but it's not easy to say why I don't like it. In this case he pulls that deeper question into view, naming those things which are lost, and by extension, validating the sorrow in the losing. Social science is often afraid of those things which it cannot quantify (morality is a prime example), but what I appreciate most about Castells' analysis is that he communicates in a detached and factual manner, yet without being reductive. I find that exciting and encouraging --- we can talk about these issues in a way that is ultimately productive, decisive, and generally applicable, rather than just a self-indulgent and aimless expression of tastes or opinions, with no consequence to anyone but the expressing individuals.