190
AdAptAtion in the Age of MediA ConvergenCe
what would formerly have been an entire job, performed by an individual.
And this constant precarity, this failure to achieve what only a few decades
ago was considered the norm, is what we are constantly enlisted, through
various media in various places, to understand as freedom, recasting upsets
as success. In short, we are invited to believe that disappointment, or what
may be construed as failure (i.e. the failure to achieve what was formerly the
mark of even a moderately successful career such as tenure or a permanent
contract) should be reframed as an opportunity to succeed. Hence, by never
“letting a good crisis go to waste,” by never giving in to low-grade depression
and anxiety that might affect our performance at work, we are constantly
incited to tell ourselves “everything is awesome!” 32
Seen in this light, the opening sequences of The LEGO Movie, in which
we watch Emmet as he goes about his morning ablutions, are particularly
revealing. Upon waking, Emmet immediately consults his copy of Instructions on How to Fit in, Have Everybody Like You, and Always Be Happy!, a
twenty-one-step program that includes:
Step 1: Breathe, Step 2: Greet the day, smile and say: Good morning city!
[…] Step 11: Obey traffic signs and regulations, […] Step 13: Park between
the lines, […] Step 15: Always root for the local sports team (Go sports
team!), Step 16: Always return a compliment, Step 17: Drink overpriced
coffee, Step 18: If you see anything weird report it immediately […], Step
20: Always obey President Business, Step 21: Go to sleep, wake up in the
morning and repeat the instructions.
Quite obviously, this is a mock-up of the multibillion-dollar motivational
products industry that has informed American culture at least since Ben
Franklin published his pithy advice manuals in the 18th century, and
since the publishers of Norman Vincent Peale’s Power of Positive Thinking
32 One of the best examples of what I am describing may be observed in the progressively privatized contemporary university, wherein entire programs are now regularly disaggregated, merged
and course offerings recombined, often seemingly randomly, producing bizarre interdisciplinary
grab-bags aimed at reducing teaching staff. Such management practices supposedly allow
students greater interdisciplinary freedom, while euphemisms such as “reducing tenure density”
or “career-change opportunities” have been coined to describe the practice of rendering the
lion’s share of faculty “adjunct,” “independent,” “freelance contractors,” who receive no benefits
or research time. In this model, the elimination of tenure is held out as offering teachers and
researchers the “freedom” to chase part-time, legofied contracts, composed of disaggregated
courses for which adjunct faculty are paid low, flat rates, from one university to the next. On this
point, see also Randy Martin’s rather more hopeful “Taking an Administrative Turn: Derivative
Logics for a Recharged Humanities,” (Resources, Vol. 116, no. 1 (Fall 2011): 156–176), passim.
AdAptAtion in the Age of MediA ConvergenCe
what would formerly have been an entire job, performed by an individual.
And this constant precarity, this failure to achieve what only a few decades
ago was considered the norm, is what we are constantly enlisted, through
various media in various places, to understand as freedom, recasting upsets
as success. In short, we are invited to believe that disappointment, or what
may be construed as failure (i.e. the failure to achieve what was formerly the
mark of even a moderately successful career such as tenure or a permanent
contract) should be reframed as an opportunity to succeed. Hence, by never
“letting a good crisis go to waste,” by never giving in to low-grade depression
and anxiety that might affect our performance at work, we are constantly
incited to tell ourselves “everything is awesome!” 32
Seen in this light, the opening sequences of The LEGO Movie, in which
we watch Emmet as he goes about his morning ablutions, are particularly
revealing. Upon waking, Emmet immediately consults his copy of Instructions on How to Fit in, Have Everybody Like You, and Always Be Happy!, a
twenty-one-step program that includes:
Step 1: Breathe, Step 2: Greet the day, smile and say: Good morning city!
[…] Step 11: Obey traffic signs and regulations, […] Step 13: Park between
the lines, […] Step 15: Always root for the local sports team (Go sports
team!), Step 16: Always return a compliment, Step 17: Drink overpriced
coffee, Step 18: If you see anything weird report it immediately […], Step
20: Always obey President Business, Step 21: Go to sleep, wake up in the
morning and repeat the instructions.
Quite obviously, this is a mock-up of the multibillion-dollar motivational
products industry that has informed American culture at least since Ben
Franklin published his pithy advice manuals in the 18th century, and
since the publishers of Norman Vincent Peale’s Power of Positive Thinking
32 One of the best examples of what I am describing may be observed in the progressively privatized contemporary university, wherein entire programs are now regularly disaggregated, merged
and course offerings recombined, often seemingly randomly, producing bizarre interdisciplinary
grab-bags aimed at reducing teaching staff. Such management practices supposedly allow
students greater interdisciplinary freedom, while euphemisms such as “reducing tenure density”
or “career-change opportunities” have been coined to describe the practice of rendering the
lion’s share of faculty “adjunct,” “independent,” “freelance contractors,” who receive no benefits
or research time. In this model, the elimination of tenure is held out as offering teachers and
researchers the “freedom” to chase part-time, legofied contracts, composed of disaggregated
courses for which adjunct faculty are paid low, flat rates, from one university to the next. On this
point, see also Randy Martin’s rather more hopeful “Taking an Administrative Turn: Derivative
Logics for a Recharged Humanities,” (Resources, Vol. 116, no. 1 (Fall 2011): 156–176), passim.