Donna Haraway, “Cyborg Manifesto” (Part I)

 


 

This chapter is an effort to build an ironic political myth faithful to feminism, socialism, and materialism. Perhaps more faithful as blasphemy is faithful, than as reverent worship and identification. Blasphemy has always seemed to require taking things very seriously. I know no better stance to adopt from within the secular-religious, evangelical traditions of United States politics, including the politics of socialist feminism. Blasphemy protects one from the moral majority within, while still insisting on the need for community. Blasphemy is not apostasy. Irony is about contradictions that do not resolve into larger wholes, even dialectically, about the tension of holding incompatible things together because both or all are necessary and true. Irony is about humour and serious play. It is also a rhetorical strategy and a political method, one I would like to see more honoured within socialist-feminism. At the centre of my ironic faith, my blasphemy, is the image of the cyborg. 

 

A cyborg is a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction. Social reality is lived social relations, our most important political construction, a world-changing fiction. The international women’s movements have constructed “women’s experience,” as well as uncovered or discovered this crucial collective object. This experience is a fiction and fact of the most crucial, political kind. Liberation rests on the construction of the consciousness, the imaginative apprehension, of oppression, and so of possibility. The cyborg is a matter of fiction and lived experience that changes what counts as women’s experience in the late twentieth century. This is a struggle over life and death, but the boundary between science fiction and social reality is an optical illusion. 

 

Contemporary science fiction is full of cyborgs -- creatures simultaneously animal and machine, who populate worlds ambiguously natural and crafted. {150}  Modern medicine is also full of cyborgs, of couplings between organism and machine, each conceived as coded devices, in an intimacy and with a power that was not generated in the history of sexuality. Cyborg “sex” restores some of the lovely replicative baroque of ferns and invertebrates (such nice organic prophylactics against heterosexism). Cyborg replication is uncoupled from organic reproduction. Modern production seems like a dream of cyborg colonization work, a dream that makes the nightmare of Taylorism seem idyllic. And modern war is a cyborg orgy, coded by C3I, command-control-communication intelligence, an $84 billion item in 1984’s US defence budget. I am making an argument for the cyborg as a fiction mapping our social and bodily reality and as an imaginative resource suggesting some very fruitful couplings. Michael Foucault’s biopolitics is a flaccid premonition of cyborg politics, a very open field. 

 

By the late twentieth century, our time, a mythic time, we are all chimeras, theorized and fabricated hybrids of machine and organism; in short, we are cyborgs. The cyborg is our ontology; it gives us our politics. The cyborg is a condensed image of both imagination and material reality, the two joined centres structuring any possibility of historical transformation. In the traditions of ”Western” science and politics -- the tradition of racist, male-dominant capitalism; the tradition of progress; the tradition of the appropriation of nature as resource for the productions of culture; the tradition of reproduction of the self from the reflections of the other -- the relation between organism and machine has been a border war. The stakes in the border war have been the territories of production, reproduction, and imagination. This chapter is an argument for pleasure in the confusion of boundaries and for responsibility in their construction. It is also an effort to contribute to socialist-feminist culture and theory in a postmodernist, non-naturalist mode and in the utopian tradition of imagining a world without gender, which is perhaps a world without genesis, but maybe also a world without end. The cyborg incarnation is outside salvation history. Nor does it mark time on an oedipal calendar, attempting to heal the terrible cleavages of gender in an oral symbiotic utopia or post-oedipal apocalypse. As Zoe Sofoulis argues in her unpublished manuscript on Jacques Lacan, Melanie Klein, and nuclear culture, the most terrible and perhaps the most promising monsters in cyborg worlds are embodied in non-oedipal narratives with a different logic of repression, which we need to understand for our survival. 

 

The cyborg is a creature in a post-gender world; it has no truck with bisexuality, pre-oedipal symbiosis, unalienated labour, or other seductions to organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity. In a sense, the cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense -- a “final” irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the {151} ”West’s” escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space. An origin story in the ”Western,” humanist sense depends on the myth of original unity, fullness, bliss and terror, represented by the phallic mother from whom all humans must separate, the task of individual development and of history, the twin potent myths inscribed most powerfully for us in psychoanalysis and Marxism. Hilary Klein has argued that both Marxism and psychoanalysis, in their concepts of labour and of individuation and gender formation, depend on the plot of original unity out of which difference must be produced and enlisted in a drama of escalating domination of woman/nature. The cyborg skips the step of original unity, of identification with nature in the Western sense. This is its illegitimate promise that might lead to subversion of its teleology as star wars. 

 

The cyborg is resolutely committed to partiality, irony, intimacy, and perversity. It is oppositional, utopian, and completely without innocence. No longer structured by the polarity of public and private, the cyborg defines a technological polls based partly on a revolution of social relations in the oikos, the household. Nature and culture are reworked; the one can no longer be the resource for appropriation or incorporation by the other. The relationships for forming wholes from parts, including those of polarity and hierarchical domination, are at issue in the cyborg world. Unlike the hopes of Frankenstein’s monster, the cyborg does not expect its father to save it through a restoration of the garden; that is, through the fabrication of a heterosexual mate, through its completion in a finished whole, a city and cosmos. The cyborg does not dream of community on the model of the organic family, this time without the oedipal project. The cyborg would not recognize the Garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust. Perhaps that is why I want to see if cyborgs can subvert the apocalypse of returning to nuclear dust in the manic compulsion to name the Enemy. Cyborgs are not reverent; they do not re-member the cosmos. They are wary of holism, but needy for connection -- they seem to have a natural feel for united front politics, but without the vanguard party. The main trouble with cyborgs, of course, is that they are the illegitimate offspring of militarism and patriarchal capitalism, not to mention state socialism. But illegitimate offspring are often exceedingly unfaithful to their origins. Their fathers, after all, are inessential

 

I will return to the science fiction of cyborgs at the end of this chapter, but now I want to signal three crucial boundary breakdowns that make the following political-fictional (political-scientific) analysis possible. By the late twentieth century in United States scientific culture, the boundary between human and animal is thoroughly breached. The last beachheads of uniqueness have been polluted if not turned into amusement parks -- language tool {152} use, social behaviour, mental events, nothing really convincingly settles the separation of human and animal. And many people no longer feel the need for such a separation; indeed, many branches of feminist culture affirm the pleasure of connection of human and other living creatures. Movements for animal rights are not irrational denials of human uniqueness; they are a clear-sighted recognition of connection across the discredited breach of nature and culture. Biology and evolutionary theory over the last two centuries have simultaneously produced modern organisms as objects of knowledge and reduced the line between humans and animals to a faint trace re-etched in ideological struggle or professional disputes between life and social science. Within this framework, teaching modern Christian creationism should be fought as a form of child abuse. 

 

Biological-determinist ideology is only one position opened up in scientific culture for arguing the meanings of human animality. There is much room for radical political people to contest the meanings of the breached boundary. The cyborg appears in myth precisely where the boundary between human and animal is transgressed. Far from signalling a walling off of people from other living beings, cyborgs signal distrurbingly and pleasurably tight coupling. Bestiality has a new status in this cycle of marriage exchange

 

The second leaky distinction is between animal-human (organism) and machine. Pre-cybernetic machines could be haunted; there was always the spectre of the ghost in the machine. This dualism structured the dialogue between materialism and idealism that was settled by a dialectical progeny, called spirit or history, according to taste. But basically machines were not self-moving, self-designing, autonomous. They could not achieve man’s dream, only mock it. They were not man, an author to himself, but only a caricature of that masculinist reproductive dream. To think they were otherwise was paranoid. Now we are not so sure. Late twentieth-century machines have made thoroughly ambiguous the difference between natural and artificial, mind and body, self-developing and externally designed, and many other distinctions that used to apply to organisms and machines. Our machines are disturbingly lively, and we ourselves frighteningly inert. 

 

Technological determination is only one ideological space opened up by the reconceptions of machine and organism as coded texts through which we engage in the play of writing and reading the world. “Textualization” of everything in poststructuralist, postmodernist theory has been damned by Marxists and socialist feminists for its utopian disregard for the lived relations of domination that ground the “play” of arbitrary reading. It is certainly true that postmodernist strategies, like my cyborg myth, subvert myriad organic wholes (for example, the poem, the primitive culture, the biological organism). In short, the certainty of what counts as nature -- a {153} source of insight and promise of innocence -- is undermined, probably fatally. The transcendent authorization of interpretation is lost, and with it the ontology grounding “Western” epistemology. But the alternative is not cynicism or faithlessness, that is, some version of abstract existence, like the accounts of technological determinism destroying “man” by the “machine” or “meaningful political action” by the “text.” Who cyborgs will be is a radical question; the answers are a matter of survival. Both chimpanzees and artifacts have politics, so why shouldn’t we? 

 

The third distinction is a subset of the second: the boundary between physical and non-physical is very imprecise for us. Pop physics books on the consequences of quantum theory and the indeterminacy principle are a kind of popular scientific equivalent to Harlequin romances as a marker of radical change in American white heterosexuality: they get it wrong, but they are on the right subject. Modern machines are quintessentially microelectronic devices: they are everywhere and they are invisible. Modern machinery is an irreverent upstart god, mocking the Father’s ubiquity and spirituality. The silicon chip is a surface for writing; it is etched in molecular scales disturbed only by atomic noise, the ultimate interference for nuclear scores. Writing, power, and technology are old partners in Western stories of the origin of civilization, but miniaturization has changed our experience of mechanism. Miniaturization has turned out to be about power; small is not so much beautiful as pre-eminently dangerous, as in cruise missiles. Contrast the TV sets of the 1950s or the news cameras of the 1970s with the TV wrist bands or hand-sized video cameras now advertised. Our best machines are made of sunshine; they are all light and clean because they are nothing but signals, electromagnetic waves, a section of a spectrum, and these machines are eminently portable, mobile -- a matter of immense human pain in Detroit and Singapore. People are nowhere near so fluid, being both material and opaque. Cyborgs are ether, quintessence. 

 

The ubiquity and invisibility of cyborgs is precisely why these sunshine-belt machines are so deadly. They are as hard to see politically as materially. They are about consciousness -- or its simulation. They are floating signifiers moving in pickup trucks across Europe, blocked more effectively by the witch-weavings of the displaced and so unnatural “Greenham women,” who read the cyborg webs of power so very well, than by the militant labour of older masculinist politics, whose natural constituency needs defence jobs. Ultimately the “hardest” science is about the realm of greatest boundary confusion, the realm of pure number, pure spirit, C3I, cryptography, and the preservation of potent secrets. The new machines are so clean and light. Their engineers are sun-worshippers mediating a new scientific revolution {154} associated with the night dream of post-industrial society. The diseases evoked by these clean machines are “no more” than the minuscule coding changes of an antigen in the immune system, “no more” than the experience of stress. The nimble fingers of “Oriental” women, the old fascination of little Anglo-Saxon Victorian girls with doll’s houses, women’s enforced attention to the small take on quite new dimensions in this world. There might be a cyborg Alice [of Wonderland] taking account of these new dimensions. Ironically, it might be the unnatural cyborg women making chips in Asia and spiral dancing in Santa Rita jail whose constructed unities will guide effective oppositional strategies. 

 

So my cyborg myth is about transgressed boundaries, potent fusions, and dangerous possibilities which progressive people might explore as one part of needed political work. One of my premises is that most American socialists and feminists see deepened dualisms of mind and body, animal and machine, idealism and materialism in the social practices, symbolic formulations, and physical artefacts associated with “high technology” and scientific culture. From One-Dimensional Man (Marcuse, 1964) to The Death of Nature (Merchant, 1980), the analytic resources developed by progressives have insisted on the necessary domination of technics and recalled us to an imagined organic body to integrate our resistance. Another of my premises is that the need for unity of people trying to resist world-wide intensification of domination has never been more acute. But a slightly perverse shift of perspective might better enable us to contest for meanings, as well as for other forms of power and pleasure in technologically mediated societies. 

 

From one perspective, a cyborg world is about the final imposition of a grid of control on the planet, about the final abstraction embodied in a Star Wars apocalypse waged in the name of defence, about the final appropriation of women’s bodies in a masculinist orgy of war (Sofia, 1984). From another perspective, a cyborg world might be about lived social and bodily realities in which people are not afraid of their joint kinship with animals and machines, not afraid of permanently partial identities and contradictory standpoints. The political struggle is to see from both perspectives at once because each reveals both dominations and possibilities unimaginable from the other vantage point. Single vision produces worse illusions than double vision or many-headed monsters. Cyborg unities are monstrous and illegitimate; in our present political circumstances, we could hardly hope for more potent myths for resistance and recoupling. I like to imagine LAG, the Livermore Action Group, as a kind of cyborg society, dedicated to realistically converting the laboratories that most fiercely embody and spew out the tools {155} of technological apocalypse, and committed to building a political form that actually manages to hold together witches, engineers, elders, perverts, Christians, mothers, and Leninists long enough to disarm the state. “Fission Impossible” is the name of the affinity group in my town. (Affinity: related not by blood but by choice, the appeal of one chemical nuclear group for another, avidity.) 

 

Continue to Part II

 


 

o  The Cyborg Manifesto” was first written in 1985. The numbers in the text refer to the pages of the book from which the essay is extracted: Simians, Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of Nature (New York; Routledge, 1991), 149-181. Get caught up in what Haraway is saying, understanding as much as you can, and focusing on the points that you do understand, rather than worrying about all of the vocabulary. This essay is, as it says, “ironic” and a “manifesto,” so it is important to remember the audience to whom Haraway is speaking: Marxists and feminists.  These points of view are certainly some of the last to be acknowledged in a typical American public speech; in fact, this essay should be interesting to you precisely because it diverges so radically from the traditional audience that you are used to being addressed as (here, as Freud says in “The ‘Uncanny,’” “We ourselves speak a language that is foreign”). Because Haraway considers gender to be a construct rather than a biological given, this essay is relevant to men and women alike. All in all, in seeking to differentiate the “modern” world (Victorian, industrial) from the “postmodern” world (“virtual,” computer-based), Haraway advocates “self” creation, the self-manufacturing of identity as multiple, versatile, synthetic, rather than “natural” or divided rigidly between spirit and body.

 

o  Socialism is a system of government like that operative in parts of Europe, where the state ensures that all people get health care, education, roadways, etc., instead of relying on the free market to provide services to the highest bidder.

 

o  Materialism is an approach which emphasizes the real, physical, non-metaphysical (or, in other words, non-spiritual) conditions determining more general structures, e.g. a materialist might explain an increase in casual theft by poverty and hunger rather than by some innate deficiency or moral deviancy in those who commit it.

 

o  Blasphemy is speaking irreverently about one’s religion or cause; apostasy is giving up on that religion or cause. Haraway admires blasphemy (which questions the value of what is treated as sacred) over apostasy because the latter leads to indifference, to apathy.

 

o  Fact and fiction simultaneously because the experience of all women can in no way be the same around the world. Haraway is “blaspheming” an older form of feminism (e.g. “all women are oppressed”), a feminism that only took into consideration white middle-class women alone.  Such women can hardly be thought to be the most oppressed compared to people generally around the world, and indeed, they too have acted the oppressor against others. Haraway nevertheless retains the “fiction” of “all” women so that the global consideration of women as a class (say, the global problem of sexual objectification, forcible underemployment, or domestic entrapment of women) will not be forgotten or ignored.

 

o  Think here of artificial insemination. The creation of babies (i.e. “organic reproduction”) is now no different than quaint, old-fashioned (“baroque”), and plant-like “replication,” i.e. copies of cells or DNA. A “prophylactic,” notoriously the condom, protects against disease. Protection against “heterosexism” would be protection against the dogmatic view that heterosexuality is (and should be) the only sexuality.  Haraway may be thinking of the increasing ability of heterosexual couples to maintain the fašade of reproduction through artificial insemination, or the ability of homosexual couples to reproduce as easily as heterosexual couples can.

 

o  Taylorism refers to Frederick Winslow Taylor, who insisted on the use of an outside observer (a.k.a. manager/ supervisor) to ensure the most efficient use of labors’ bodies down to the very last minutia of movement.  He minimized any unnecessary activity, reducing each gesture to a single repetitive, mechanical task, as if the human body were just another machine operating in the factory.

 

o  Otherwise known as “Star Wars,” after George Lucas’ 1977 film, C3I is an extremely expensive (and never operable) technology inspired by Ronald Reagan’s nuclear war policy; it was supposed to create huge, Earth-orbiting devices that would destroy incoming nuclear bombs with other nuclear bombs in the stratosphere. Interestingly, in a 60 Minutes interview (3/28/99), Lucas advocated a position similar to Haraway’s: as a single father with three adopted children, he stressed how family, and family connection, is derived more by choice, or by “affinity,” than by bloodlines.

 

o  Michel Foucault wrote The History of Sexuality, a critique of psychoanalysis that argues Freud and other Victorian scientists invented perversions rather than studied them.  For example, Foucault not only argues that homosexuality was quite prevalent and relatively unproblematic until the 18th century, but that homosexuality was only made a “perversion” in the 19th century when it was classified as such and thus became at once transgressive and desired. “Biopolitics” refers to Foucault’s Birth of the Clinic, in which he analyzes the analogous invention, investigation, and incitement of madness. Like Victor who looks at the monster only in terms of the “diseased” minuteness of its anatomy, 18th-century scientists, according to Foucault, opened the body to the “ever-receding background” of the diagnostic gaze: “seen in relation to death, disease becomes exhaustively legible, open without remainder to the sovereign dissection of language and the gaze” (trans. A. M. Smith [New York: Vintage Crime, 1975], p. 196).

 

o   Ontology is the state or study of being and becoming. More often than not, “being” is given its meaning through narratives of time, particularly through stories of origin; e.g. the story of Adam and Eve gives meaning, the definitive quality of “being,” to Christians, or the “Declaration of Independence” gives meaning, the definitive quality of “being,” to our nation. Note how being (what should already be or in fact is) so readily slips into becoming (what we have to work to make as such or what we have to work to make as such in the future).  The “Declaration of Independence,” although written in the past, is invoked in a perpetual present tense -- “all men are born equal” -- so that however continual or unchanging it may seem, we have to keep (re)interpreting its meaning over time. Likewise, homosexuality is said to be unnatural (“that’s just how things are”), without any doubt or discussion, yet it must be censored, repressed, ostracized, or scrupulously hidden from view to seem so out of the norm and unusual.  Being, or rather narratives of being, means and manufactures becoming, and visa versa, in these and kindred ontological reversals.

 

o  The utopian tradition” would be the tradition of conjuring ideal, perfect worlds. Manifestos are usually written with an ideal world in mind. The “Futurist Manifesto,” published shortly before World War Two in Italy, celebrated the beauty of technology, war, electricity, etc. Marx’s Communist Manifesto called for a world without classism, a world in which the whole community rather than the ruling class controlled the money, machinery, etc. George Orwell’s novel 1984 is a “dystopia,” or negative image of a future world.

 

o  Oedipus is the tragic hero of Sophicles’ play of that name, and, of course, the prototype for Freud’s view of sexuality. “Pre-oedipal” would be the non-sexually differentiated world of childhood, when the child has no sense of its gender and is “polymorphously” sexual, or sexual all over the place and in any given place, rather than just in its “male” or “female” genital areas. “Post-oedipal” would be after sexual differentiation, after that polymorphous “unity,” when sex, gender, and repression divide the subject. “Post-oedipal apocalypse” would be the realization that we will never be able to return to an “innocent,” original, non-gendered identity or sexuality.

 

o  Jacques Lacan, an influential French psychoanalyst, is most famous for his theory of the “mirror stage,” the stage during which we first perceive our self-image. According to Lacan, we misrecognize our self in the mirror as “whole” and “autonomous,” but are afterwards haunted in dreams, fantasies, and delusions by the fragmented nature of our identify and of reality itself.

 

o  Melanie Klein (1882-1960), an Austrian psychoanalyst, devised therapeutic techniques for childcare and rearing.

 

o  Non-oedipal” is equated with “non-nuclear” because a self that embraces multiplicity would not project its negative qualities onto others, nor repress its diverse interests from itself in order to establish a “proper” center or ego. “Nucleus” is obviously the center of an atom, but even an atom’s “center” has numerous smaller parts (protons, neutrons) bounding about, creating a center of gravity; thus, the nucleus itself has no core or solidity, however often used as a metaphor for such extreme unity. The “nuclear family” takes the father/mother/children “unit” as the most important component of society, with the father as the “head” of the household. At present, the majority of families are not nuclear families, e.g. many have step-brothers/sisters, brothers/sisters-in-law, or adopted brothers/sisters, few have fathers, and most have older generations — aunts, grandmothers, grandfathers, etc. — stepping in for overworked parents.

 

o  Telos means “end”; “teleology” means the study or state of the trajectory, the “end-directedness.” Haraway in thinking of a trajectory like that of Odysseus in the Greek myth, who leaves home for adventure, war, and fun and then returns home to his wife and stability.

 

o  Polarity,” where things have to be either one thing or another (black/white, male/ female), leads hierarchy, one better thing than the other. Haraway is referring to the traditional notion that “work” outside the house is more important than “work” inside the house, which, however laborious, is often thought to not be work at all. Consider the television show Bewitched, where the mother, with a twitch of her nose, miraculously cooks dinner or gets her husband a promotion.

 

o  This obviously refers to the Cold War, when the world was divided into two — capitalism or communism — and nuclear war seemed frighteningly imminent. McCarthyism, named after the 1950 senator, Joseph McCarthy, would be the most obvious example of the “manic compulsion to name the Enemy.” He started a witch-hunt in Hollywood, Washington, and elsewhere to identify and ostracize communists, homosexuals, or other “deviants.”

 

o  Child abusein the figurative sense: not teaching evolutionism would be forcing children to remain ignorant of the dominant ideology of their society, to be mentally rather than physically impaired (see “ideology” below).

 

o  Ideology is a system of ideas that seem inevitably and transparently true to a particular class of people, but are fantasies nonetheless, such as the “ideology” of romantic love (“everyone has one true mate”), the ideology of capitalism (“the cream rises to the top”), the ideology of socialism (“everyone should be treated the same”), the ideology of racism (“the white Aryan race is the very best of races”), and so on. An ideological struggle would be like that between evolutionary science (where humans are products of progressive generations of animals successfully adapting in the world) and Christian theology (where humans are invested with “spirit” by a divine creator and thereby superior to “non-rational” animals, bodies, flesh).

 

o  Cycle of marriage exchange” refers to the anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, who argues that culture is founded on the exchange or barter of women.  According to Levi-Strauss, the prohibition of incest makes looking outside the clan for a female mate (i.e. “exogamy”) necessary for survival. William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is just one of many works focusing on the conflicts (and conjunctions) that love introduces between two cultures. Haraway prefers “bestiality” because neither one nor the other of the two cultures would be any more animal, any more “primitive,” than the other.

 

o  The terms “materialism” and “idealism” refer to a long-standing philosophical debate. Idealism began with Rene Descartes (“I think; therefore, I am”), who maintains that the “human” is defined by its consciousness, by its ideas. The American sciences are highly “materialist,” maintaining that the “human” is determined by physical, or “material,” stimuli.  For example, a “determinist,” or “materialist,” would maintain that problems like depression are more likely caused by brain chemicals than by cultural factors, or that homosexuality is inherited through DNA rather than chosen. By Rene Descartes’ time (1596-1650), the revolution in physics and mathematics was at its height, and people were scared of being no different than “machines,” so from the beginning, idealism was an “illegitimate offshoot” of science. The “ghost” in the machine refers to the philosophical argument that even if we were machines, we must have a consciousness (or a God) to design us since “machines” cannot program or run themselves. In the 1960s, the computer, or “artificial intelligence,” revolution made paranoia about being a machine especially acute. “Dialectical progeny” refers to the philosopher, G. W. F. Hegel; the “dialectic” is the interplay between the thesis (positive proposition/ movement), antithesis (negative proposition/ reaction), and synthesis (composite of each).

 

o  Haraway likely is referring to Victor Frankenstein, who in attempting to reproduce his own (male) race, would not have to rely on women for reproduction.

 

o  Textualization would be the reading of the world, including material reality, as if a text or language, one of the definitive traits of postmodernism.

 

o  The Greenham Common Women’s Peace Encampment conducted a long-term protest in England, where NATO had installed nuclear missiles during the Thatcher and Reagan eras.

 

o  Resonates with Susan Stewart’s analysis of Victorian doll-houses: “Occupying a space within an enclosed space [of the larger, domestic home] the dollhouse’s aptest analogy is the locket or the secret recess of the heart: center within center, within within within. The dollhouse is a materialized secret ... it is probably not accidental that it is the Victorian period which is presently so popular for reproduction in miniature, not only because of that period’s obsession with detail and materiality is so analogous to the miniature’s general functions, but also because Victorian modes of production presented the height of a transformation of nature into culture. Whereas industrial labor is marked by the prevalence of repetition over skill and part over whole, the miniature object represents an antithetical mode of production; production by the hand, a production that is unique and authentic” (On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection [Durham: Duke UP, 1993]), p. 61 and 68.

 

o  Haraway’s footnote: “A practice at once both spiritual and political that linked guards and arrested anti-nuclear demonstrators in the Alameda County jail in California in the early 1985.”

 

o  Fission Impossible” (utopian connection) vs. “Mission Impossible” (utopian destruction).