[News] Notes from Technotopia
Anti-Imperialist News
news at freedomarchives.org
Mon Jul 6 10:15:52 EDT 2015
Notes From Technotopia:On The Cruelty Of Indifference
An anti-gentrification philosophical tantrum
by Guillermo Gómez-Peña, 2015
*https://docs.google.com/document/d/1v-nwi3b0OC0CAfHMbBpp8soGQ8M_HefUKrjz6DsyFYU/edit*
(In his most recent philosophical tantrum, performance artist and poet
Gómez-Peña reflects on the dangers of the ultimate “creative city,” and
what it means to become a foreigner in his own neighborhood, waiting for
the much touted eviction notice.)
Dear Ex-local artist, writer, activist, bohemian, street eccentric,
and/or protector of difference...
Imagine a city, your city and your former “hip” neighborhood,being
handed over by greedy politicians and re/developers to the crème de la
crèmeof the tech industry. This includes the 7 most powerful tech
companies in the world. I don’t need to list them: their names have
become verbs in lingua franca;their sandbox is the city you used to call
your own.
Their Faustian iDeal involves radically transforming your city within a
few years into an unprecedented “creative city,” a bohemian theme park
for the young techies and “hipsters” who constitute their Darwinian work
force. It comes with dormitories, food courts with catchy theme bars and
entertainment centers. Sounds like science fiction, que no?
Imagine that during the reconstruction process,the rent - your rent -
increases by two or three hundred percent overnight. The artists and the
working class at large can no longer pay it. You are being forced to
leave, at best to a nearby city, at worst back to your original
hometown. The more intimate history you have with the old city, the more
painful it is to accept this displacement. You have no choice.
While you hang on by a thread waiting for the eviction notice,every day
you continue to lose old friends and colleagues you might never see
again. They were less lucky than you and got evicted earlier.
Heartbroken and exhausted, you spend a large part of your civic time
attending anti-gentrification demonstrations and collaborating with
other artists and activists in anti-eviction actions and techno-artivist
projects, but still it only gets worse by the day. The number of
dramatic eviction cases increases constantly and both the diminished
politicized citizenry and the progressive media begin to experience
compassion fatigue.
As your community rapidly shrinks, so does your sense of belonging to a
city that no longer seems to like you. You begin to feel like a
foreigner and internal exile: freaky Alice in techno-Wonderlandia; the
Alien Caterpillar who inhaled. Unless you own your home and studio, as a
renter, your hours “here” are numbered and you carry this feeling of
imminent orphanhood like a very tight and stylish noose around your
neck. After all, you perceive yourself as a dandy.
Imagine that all the classic and familiar places in your hoodincluding
funky, decades-old Latino restaurants and immigrant bars full of
memories and ghosts, barber & specialty shops, bohemian sex clubs,
experimental art galleries, indie theaters and bookstores –yes, shops
where bound books are sold, -- the emotional spaces which have been your
main source of inspiration, creativity and community -- are also forced
to close because the pinchegreedy landlord tripled the rent overnight or
some millionaire bought the building or the entire block to rent out
micro-units to airbnb. And all the new laws and acts protect him. Your
imagination becomes a painful exercise in forced tolerance and
providential acceptance.
In a few months, these wonderful places that for decades provided the
city with a strong cultural identity are destroyed and reopened as (get
ready) homogeneous “live/work/play” spaces, “micro-condominium”
buildings and tech plazas in the works. Coño! The new city begins to
look like a generic global metropolis imagined by Italo Calvino. To make
the lives of the transient work force somewhat pleasant, hundreds of
similar smart cafes, trendoid restaurants, overpriced “eateries” and
“celebrity bars” open up in each neighborhood. Even the last standing
old-school dive bars are being “discovered” (a euphemism for taken over)
by the transplants via their Yelp or Foursquare mobile app.
But you, no matter how long you lived here or how much you have paid in
rent – even if it is enough to own your hipster remodeled Victorian
upper unit - You are not welcome.
You hit the streets again: What you used to call an average priced
dinner is way above your price range now. Your sacred $4 night cocktail,
now served by an aloof “celebrity bartender,” costs $15 and your daily
jugosand licuados, now called “cold pressed gluten-free organic
cleansing juices,” go for $12 in a “recyclable sustainable” bottle. But
don’t worry: Remember that this is just a perverse exercise of radical
imagination, or rather, a psychomagic challenge to deliver your daily
dose of survival humor.
Imagine that your own building, a legendary (ex) artist buildingis now
just another revolving airb&b miniunit for zombie techies who make well
over $200 grand a year, but behave not unlike obnoxious teenage frat
boys. If you are the only one of 3 Mexican tenants left, when you open
the front door for a new neighbor, they either perceive you as the
building's janitor or report you to the manager as a “suspicious
character.” And yes, in Technotopia: your new identity is that of
“suspicious character.”
The nightmare unfolds: Full of Maseratis, Ferraris, Porsches and
Mercedes Benzes, the private parking lot is now protected with barbed
wire fences and a digital display keypad encoded by microchips; and so
are the “vintage bike” racks and trash containers. Video surveillance
cameras are omnipresent. The new management wishes to keep the homeless,
the day laborers and the “scary” young “people of color” at a
distance…that is, before the cops get them. They are unpleasant memories
of the old city of sin and compassion; kids from former distasteful and
economically disadvantaged, at-risk neighborhoods.
The newly empowered cops drive around the hood looking for (criminal)
“difference.”The homeless and the “gang bangers” aren’t the only ones
being removed from the streets to make them safe for the new dot.com
<http://dot.com> cadre. With them go the poets, the performance artists,
the experimental musicians, the frail transvestites, the politicized sex
workers, the gallant mariachis, the cool low-riders, the urban
primitives, the angry punks, the defiant radical feminists and the very
activists who used to protect us all from the greedy landlords and
politicians who conceived of this macabre project.
It’s the latest American version of ethnic and cultural cleansing. It’s
invisible to the newcomers, and highly visible to those of us who knew
the old city. The press labels it “the post-gentrification era.”
“Prehistory is only 7 years old and nostalgia is pure style, a bad
selfie of a fictional memory.”—Anonymous tweet.
There are suspicious fires happening constantly,in apartment buildings
and homes inhabited by mostly Latino and black working class families.
And you cannot help but to wonder if landlords and redevelopers are
setting these fires? “Is there a secret garden of violence in the heart
of techno-bohemian paradise?”-Anonymous tweet.
You also begin to wonder, who are these random people and newly evasive
neighbors taking over your neighborhood?Metaphysically speaking, where
did they really come from? And how long will they stay? Are they merely
browsing in the mythological backyard of Technotopia? Will they return
to the suburbs when the Chicano intifada begins?
Day after day, allured by the new digital bonanza, hundreds, thousands
of new people arrive, unfamiliar people, without manners or style,
social or historical consciousness; mostly middle and upper class white
people from the suburbs and small cities from throughout the country,
along with some wealthy foreign entrepreneurs and programmers from
similarly upwardly mobile techno cultures. Undistinguishable from
tourists, so many of them look like they were just dropped here by a UFO
straight out of a Minneapolis or a Houston suburb, complete with their
yoga mat, mobile gym and tech gear bearing the logo of the company they
work for; their designer dogwear and strollers, all glued to their
smartphones to the point where they can’t even acknowledge your presence
as you pass them on the street.
Soon, these normative looking humans will destroy their very object of
bohemian desire; the multicultural fetishes which attracted them “here”
in the first place. And they will one day wake up to an ocean of
unbearable sameness. The good thing is, they don’t know it yet, and they
probably wouldn’t notice anyway. And if a few of them know it, let’s
face it, they don’t give a shit. They’re all “comfortable” and exalted.
The whole city is catering to their desires. Besides, they’ve got 25
posts per day on their digital agenda and hundreds of superficial tweets
to write.
What these cyber-adventurers have in common is that they are in a hurry,
determined to make lots of money…mañana! Their neo-colonial dreams must
be attained instantly. It’s the latest San Francisco Gold Rush, the
2nddigital bonanza, a true new Wild West. It’s definitely the last
chapter in savage capitalism, and they wish to be cast in the biggest,
hippest reality show ever!
…But dear reader/audience member, don’t take it personally, you are
always an exception to the rule. You are somewhat different. –Tweet.
Upon their arrival they are willing to take any job on their way to a
better one, displacing the working class, which made the city function
for decades. They are even willing to be waiters, gardeners (as long as
they are referred to as ‘landscape designers’), house cleaners (or
rather ‘facilities personnel’) and even nannies & dog walkers to the
rich and famous. The difference between then and now is they charge 3
times as much, and have no sense of labor ethics or a culture of
service. After all, it’s just a temporary job on their way to Utopia 5.0.
Their dream begins to come true as they ascend in the instant
socio-economic pyramid of the new city. They hit the jackpot. They get
their official membership card to the bohemian theme park on an app and
they begin to share in a post human culture.
“In this imaginary city, we no longer have citizens: we have
self-involved ‘consumers’ with the latest gadgets in hand.” --Tweet.
It’s a virtual mob, not an informed citizenry, and they are slowly
taking over every square inch of space and oxygen. Their navigation and
communication devices are installed in their iPhone or iPad. And so are
their identities, hollow dreams, “real” experiences; their
nuvo-families, and all of their fictional memories.
You have seen these strangers: they seem to belong to micro-communities
of 2 to 5 people.When they are not at work, they go to smart cafes…to
work more. They rarely make eye contact with anyone. They walk staring
at their mobile communication devices in search for an anxious,
“spontaneous” human connection by following a GPS map to their next
appointment. They also stare at the screen while having dinner with
colleagues because they’re “checking in”, messaging someone on Facebook,
or taking a selfie with a famous person they will never see again. They
even do this while listening to live music at a club. When driving, they
have no etiquette. They get easily irritated by the unbearable traffic
they themselves created and behave like the bad drivers they imagine
reside in the Third World.
They rarely attend artistic activities. They’d rather go to exciting
themed events and parties sponsored by companies. And they go to
network, not to make friends, flirt, or find a lover. With the exception
of sporadic online speed dating on Tindr or Ok Cupid, their sexual life
is “frugal” for the lack of a meaner word…On their wildest nights,
nothing ever happens out of the ordinary. Their most exciting days are
Pride, Dia de los Muertos and Burning Man, where they get to be extreme
tourists.
”But dear reader/audience member, don’t take it personally, you are
always an exception to the rule.” – Tweet
For the poetic record: They are mostly “white,” (meaning gender or race
illiterate). 70% are male and have absolutely no sense of the history of
the streets they are beginning to walk on. In the way they behave, they
make you wonder if they know, geographically and culturally speaking,
where they are located and if they are even aware of the profound impact
of their presence in the lives of the older inhabitants? Last night at a
bar one of them felt compelled to confess to me he was angered by a
“racist poster” he saw outside: The photo of a handsome mariachi with a
gun: “Gringas si; gringos no.”I felt sorry for his lack of humor.
“In the way these vatos behave you begin to wonder if they exist in the
same city you are or in a parallel quantum reality you are making
up?”-Tweet
In fact, they are easily annoyed by “difference” and have no problem
letting you know or confessing it online. Verbigratia: “Don’t believe
the hype: This neighborhood is not a safe place! There’s still way too
many Mexicans, hookers, lesbians & street freaks. Don’t come to live
here!” In the “creative city”, racism, sexism, homophobia and classism
are passé…
I continue citing my poetic field notes:“These techno-vatos have no
sense of philanthropy. Their savings are to be spent in gourmet food,
gadgets, clubbing, fancy apartments and very expensive puppies, like
French bull dogs, Italian Greyhounds, and Pomeranians … It’s a
solipsistic frontier economy. And if you are mildly politicized you
cannot help but to wonder, If each one of them prosperous locos would
donate 5 % of their income to a social cause, we could improve housing,
social services and schools for the poor, and the yearly art budget for
the Arts Commission…but in this Darwinian age, that would be considered
old-school communism, not venture capitalism…”Here”, the future will
come in a few days and the money they make must be spent in the
immediate process of getting there. But ‘there’ is actually nowhere”—Tweet.
Besides, the mandate of the city fathers, in cahoots with the developers
and new entrepreneurs is to create by any means necessary a city for the
white rich. Our ex-major Willie Brown, paradoxically a black
“progressive democrat” put it succinctly once: “we want to create the
Monaco of the U.S., and if you can’t afford it, you can leave!” Thanks,
Brother Willie!
Well, it already happened…and yes we, the holders and perpetrators of
cultural difference, “can’t afford it” but here’s the thing: We are
doing everything possible to stay and remain a nuisance to the new
urbanites and the greedy landlords and politicians who invited them.
By now,I am clearly experiencing philosophical vertigo and political
despair.The symptoms are devastating questions in my diary:
“Are we the artists and activists left, merely stubborn? Are we
delusional and engaged in a losing battle? Are we waiting for the San
Andreas Fault to open up or for the Mission shamans to conjure up the
collapse of the new economy? But what if all the Mission shamans have
already been evicted? Will the city get so unbearably expensive that the
leaders of the tech industry themselves will decide to relocate to
another place? If only we stick around a little longer… Is it too late
to talk about this? Is someone somewhere online reading my words?... Hello?
(…)
3 pages later my questions continue: “Should I attend tomorrow’s
anti-gentrification march or is it time to finally pack up and go back
to Mexico City? I wonder what is worse, overt organized crime or the
gentler forms of organized crime in Technotopia? What is more violent:
the menacing gaze of a homeboy or the absolute indifference of a techie?
Dangerous difference or dangerous sameness?”
During the revision of the final draft, I become fully aware of my
poetic subjectivity. I know that my words are somewhat careless,
partially unfair and devastating but I can’t help them. I am not a
journalist. I am a performance artist and a poet, and my city has been
taken away from me. It really hurts to walk the new streets of my
refurbished ex-bohemian city. What can I say? I am deeply affected by
the cruelty of indifference of its new population and I get sad when I
stare at this unbearable ocean of cultural sameness and boring
techno-normativity. I miss the grit, the funk, the unexpected, my dozens
of close friends who have left for good. Am I repeating myself? Do I
need to add a dictionary?
Dictionary (in progress):
Creative: A euphemism for successful
Here: Nothingness
Hipster: No one really knows. You just think you know. If you think you
know, you most definitely are not one.
Local: Someone who used to live “here” when here was a place
Eviction: A euphemism for the eradication of difference
Google bus: A travelling gas-guzzling half-full office with chairs and
no cubicles
Networking: A safe alternative to making actual conversation
Radical: An adjective for a franchise
Technotopia: San Francisco sans difference//A-critical techno-utopia
Underground: Another franchise
Vintage: 2ndhand object or a previously worn item of clothing sold for
over $100
White: A bizarre state of mind that makes you attribute race to others
with darker skin
(I wish to thank Balitronica, Emma Tramposch and Anastasia Herold for
helping me to prepare the first version of this manuscript)
--
Freedom Archives 522 Valencia Street San Francisco, CA 94110 415
863.9977 www.freedomarchives.org
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