Résumé :
La première revue littéraire gratuite, Notes from the Underground, a été distribuée à l’entrée des stations de métro de Londres le 17 décembre 2007. La valeur de la culture se trouve-t-elle transformée par ce type d’initiative ? Il s’agit moins de mesurer les effets d’une telle entreprise sur les foyers individuels que de s’interroger sur les conceptions artistiques qui la sous-tendent à l’heure de la diffusion massive et gratuite de la culture. Peut-on concilier une prétention à un art de qualité et des moyens de distribution fondés sur la quantité ? Il semble du moins que les limites entre la sphère des médias et la sphère de la réception se trouvent flouées. Cela a trait au changement fondamental du rapport physique entre le spectateur et l’œuvre d’art, au statut de la participation du public dans la culture, et à la valeur conférée aux « objets » culturels à travers l’évolution des modes de représentation de nos sociétés.
The first free literary magazine saw the light in London on 17th December 2007. Londoners were able to pick up a copy of Notes from the underground[1] when coming out of their usual tube station. It contains neither news items, nor sports reports, nor slanderous comments on celebrities’ lives, but merely consists of short stories and poems. Promising young authors have been given the opportunity of revealing or confirming their talent to 100,000 potential readers. This initiative by two recent graduate students arouses many questions as to which direction the diffusion of culture is taking in the era of mass communication and immediate access to information. More than the eventual eruption of literary press in homes which were previously alien to it, the cultural conceptions which underlie such an enterprise fundamentally influence the value given to cultural objects themselves. It seems that deciding to include culture in the marketplace of free press not only develops the relativism with which information is valued and compared but reverses the processes through which one receives and accesses culture. Literature is now randomly offered as part of an incentive to favour people’s desire to learn. It is dropped in our hands, no longer do we have to seek and look for it. The message which is implied by the will for free culture appears as important as the actual act of its diffusion for the reason that the attributes of what one calls “culture” change in their signification. Widespread and easy access to texts and images is not of course entirely novel. Internet has already made available an immense reservoir of artistic production[2]. The internet revolution not only provides ever increasing amounts of people with a huge variety of resources, but considerably changes the mental pattern of cultural reception. Internet has fostered under the patronising idea according to which it is those who use it that make the culture it diffuses. If one can access any given text, it is because one should have the right to consult what he himself could have produced. However, it is not internet itself but the voluntary decision processes which render culture immediately available without any counterpart which should be considered. To what extent a project such as Notes from the Underground is representative of cultural trends which have as an end the diffusion of a knowledge of quality and use as the means to this end measures of quantitative distribution? Is the evolution towards the abolition of a mediation between culture and the spectator, or at least the confusion between the sphere of mediation and that of reception, inexorable? Rather than judging the pertinence of new means of cultural diffusion, one can consider the underlying ideas which give a meaning to how culture eludes certain areas of the public sphere to concentrate on others. The role of the actual physical relationship between the artistic creation and the public, the status of participation of artists and public in culture, and the change in the value conferred to art through its modes of representation are all problems which can be reflected upon under this angle.
To find a book one wants, one disposes of many other solutions than laboriously scrutinizing a bookshop’s shelves. Nevertheless, it probably stays the only way through which one can feel and see the “object-book” he is buying before actually buying it. Whether this preliminary contact is still considered important or even necessary by the public is doubtful. First of all, it becomes accessory because information one receives is logically valued more than the supporting material- sound, image, paper…- which transmits it[3]. One has the choice of the supporting material but is he really concerned about this choice when the criteria of selection becomes the facility of access and not the comfort of reception of the information? Notwithstanding the actual relation one will have to the material which provides him with given information when he will actually read or listen or look at the information, it seems more important to make the cultural object as accessible as possible before actually considering its content. For this reason, the will for a greater access for all to culture does not necessarily imply a will for culture in itself. In the case of free distribution of magazines in the street, this idea is even more relevant. How is the success of this form of information measured? Does sponsorship depend on the efficiency of distribution? These questions should not obliterate the fact that a random street walker who picks up a magazine will not necessarily read it, and even if he does look through it, he may throw it away 15 minutes after having discovered its existence. The physical relationship between the public and art appears determinant, especially when the setting of this relation is the large and swarming streets and avenues of European capitals. In L’oeuvre d’art à l’époque de sa reproduction mécanisée[4], Benjamin analyses the relationship between masses and art through the example of architecture[5]. If a tactile mode of reception of art works through habit, a visual mode of reception works through contemplation and habit. However, when it comes to the perception of architecture, the spectator observes buildings less with the eye of an attentive expert than with the eye of a distracted passer-by. Commonly, one distinguishes the distracted masses who only seek entertainment from the genuine amateur who is capable of meditation in front of a masterpiece. The apparition of visual arts, cinema and photography, has rendered general the law of perception according to which the spectator must absorb the shocks that shifting images release upon him. Contemplation does not suffice, “tactile appropriation is accomplished not so much by attention as by habit”[6]. This means that even the distracted eye gets used to certain perceptions. The film, thought Benjamin, was the proper field of experience of this profound transformation of our modes of reception, reception through distraction. If one transposes this idea to the reception of literature in the streets, one may see the importance of notions such as habit and distraction in the way one accesses culture. How many people actually consciously take hold of a literary magazine out of interest for literature and passion for reading? Is it not common that every one of us accepts this kind of distribution, assimilated to that of free newspapers, by the habit of reception in distraction? Knowing that when we will come out of the underground, we will have the choice of picking up the magazine that interests us or of refusing to read even a single one of them, we make street diffusion of culture depend on our refusal to be distracted when we receive it. Again, the difference lies in the actual acceptation of possessing the supporting material of culture and the decision to consider the literature it offers. It seems far-fetched to rely on the quantity of magazines distributed to judge of the quality of the relationship between art and public. Indeed, the shock of reception does not confuse the image and the content of art but is displaced from the content to the supporting material. Moreover, in this case, one does not only refuse to read any abandoned piece of literature but one informs a person whose work it is to distribute this literature that he does not want to read it. The social pressure inherent to this mode of distribution makes the autonomous decision to refuse what is offered somewhat disturbing.
Accordingly, if the massive diffusion of culture is unanimously favoured and associated to the progress of our civilisation, it questions one fundamental change in our relationship with art: our participation in it. For Benjamin, “the desire of contemporary masses to bring things ‘closer’ spatially and humanly, […] is just as ardent as their bent toward overcoming the uniqueness of every reality by accepting its reproduction ”[7]. Indeed, this impassioned longing for an immediate presence of the world is expressed by the reproduction of unique and authentic forms of art. The aura of art is its capacity to return to the spectator the look he sets upon it or the reciprocity of sensations between a unique spectator and a unique aesthetic object. Benjamin theorised the dissolution of this aura when he saw that the immense means of reproduction of art which accompanied the modernity was false aesthetic reception insofar as the masses would have access to reproduced works and not original ones. Today, this observation seems too obvious to be recalled. Nevertheless, it is still possible to judge the consequences of such a revolution. Never do we have access to the original piece of work of an author, except if his production is originally numeric and therefore destined to be reproduced. This type of production precisely appeals to a large number of people because it implies that, notwithstanding the quality of the piece of work, it will be accessible to more than a single pair of eyes. The line between artists and public is thus indistinct. The recognition of an author is not only possible through his popular success, but also through the nature of his work. Press has in fact enlarged the possibilities of creation in the public. As Benjamin expressed it[8], at any moment, the reader is ready to become author. It is the work which is valued, not so much a special competence, because literature is originally public in these forms of distribution. When a literary magazine invites its readers to contribute to the content, the question of participation becomes essential. One cannot give way to the criticism of the defenders of an ancient order which clearly drew a line between artists and public if one acknowledges that there still are aesthetic conceptions which determine discourses on art and its reception. It would be dangerous to stigmatize cultural initiatives under the false pretence that they obey to no clear vision of art, and only express a soothing and conformist desire for extended creation. A magazine such as Notes from the Underground makes it clear that the apparent atomised content of artistic production today is united to some extent under the principles of a post-modern definition of art. Questions such as: ‘Can masses differentiate the pleasure of art and criticism?’ or ‘Is art destined for all if the artist’s status and the critic’s status are equally valued?’ are fallacious insofar as they rely upon vague and standardized definitions of what the masses are, and what art is. They are relevant when they do not use categories of thought which primarily render art sacred and masses profane. It seems important to recall that the sphere of art is changing because the value given to art is changing.
Art has become a business. When new modes of marketing value not the artistic object itself, but the capacity to diffuse it, art’s status inevitably changes. According to Foucault[9] the value of objects exists only in representations. Two types of values are formed in commerce: an object attains its value in the act of exchanging; an object has a value before the exchange and it is a condition of this exchange. In economics, the relation to an object and the assertion that it is desirable come down to the same idea. Some objects appear desirable before the exchange; the value of other objects is defined by the future exchange. How does this distinction help one understand the value of ‘free’ literature? In this particular case, the desire for an object relies on the advertisement and the speeches which accompany its diffusion. It is valued because it appears as an innovating idea. However, the commercial idea itself is not new; the idea of free access to culture is not either. It is the combination of these two elements which determines to some extent the value conferred to the object before its distribution and in the time of its distribution. Does the public question the content of the object when he knows it is free? Is it not common to give an artistic value to the object only once the monetary value of this same object is understood as coming down to nothing, and demanding no financial effort? Thus, if art is inexorably associated with commercial value, it would seem relevant to give great importance to the intentions and formulations which are tied to its diffusion. In order for art to remain remote from consumable goods, at least in its effects on the public, certain guidelines must be promoted by those who diffuse it. A current conflict between the French bookshop syndicate and the Internet’s first bookselling site, amazon.com, in which the first accuse the second of not respecting the unique price of books, pertains to this change in our relation to art [10]. Bookshops defend loyal competition by claiming that they are doomed if people start buying more books off the internet than they do in shops. They are indeed facing multiple competitive assaults including that of websites which use the marketing argument that they will pay for the transport fees of books. An alternative is probably for booksellers to start trading online, if they have not already. However, when literature is free, and comes physically to us, how are we to react? Of course, the decision to read a paper or not remains that of every individual, but the content of what one will read stays uncertain until one actually reads what one is holding in his hands. If such initiatives flourish, it will probably mean that the public is responsive to the glimpses of art that it is offered, but it may also mean that this sort of press could be pervaded by competitive policies. If a literary magazine’s goal is to be the most appealing to the public, it could be completely dependant on the idea of offer and demand. If its goals are clearly defined, and pedagogy primes over general opinion (doxa), that will not be the case.
Indeed, massive diffusion of culture appears problematic when some authority dictates what the messages transmitted must be. On the other hand, it also becomes problematic when the sole objective of those who promote it is to make culture massive. The same troubles emerge when novelty and originality are erected as the primary values of art, and the least manifestation of inventiveness is unanimously sanctified as revolutionary. Hence, our purpose is not to criticize in itself the diffusion of culture on a great scale but to point out the eventual flaws which can come out of its reasons for being. At a time when our receptivity to art is physically changing, one cannot disapprove of the incredible possibilities it enables for all. One cannot regret an ideal of pure art intended for the spiritual enlightenment of the masses, and not realize that the price of the freedom of artistic production is to be under the guidance of no preconceived notion of art. What gives its unity and its force to art consists precisely in the capacity of cultural actors to make individual creations influence one another and echo one another. To this extent, the spectator has a primordial role to play as he gives his consent to the quality of a work of art by recognizing the insatiable desire for renewed creation it conveys.
La première revue littéraire gratuite, Notes from the Underground, a été distribuée à l’entrée des stations de métro de Londres le 17 décembre 2007. La valeur de la culture se trouve-t-elle transformée par ce type d’initiative ? Il s’agit moins de mesurer les effets d’une telle entreprise sur les foyers individuels que de s’interroger sur les conceptions artistiques qui la sous-tendent à l’heure de la diffusion massive et gratuite de la culture. Peut-on concilier une prétention à un art de qualité et des moyens de distribution fondés sur la quantité ? Il semble du moins que les limites entre la sphère des médias et la sphère de la réception se trouvent flouées. Cela a trait au changement fondamental du rapport physique entre le spectateur et l’œuvre d’art, au statut de la participation du public dans la culture, et à la valeur conférée aux « objets » culturels à travers l’évolution des modes de représentation de nos sociétés.
The first free literary magazine saw the light in London on 17th December 2007. Londoners were able to pick up a copy of Notes from the underground[1] when coming out of their usual tube station. It contains neither news items, nor sports reports, nor slanderous comments on celebrities’ lives, but merely consists of short stories and poems. Promising young authors have been given the opportunity of revealing or confirming their talent to 100,000 potential readers. This initiative by two recent graduate students arouses many questions as to which direction the diffusion of culture is taking in the era of mass communication and immediate access to information. More than the eventual eruption of literary press in homes which were previously alien to it, the cultural conceptions which underlie such an enterprise fundamentally influence the value given to cultural objects themselves. It seems that deciding to include culture in the marketplace of free press not only develops the relativism with which information is valued and compared but reverses the processes through which one receives and accesses culture. Literature is now randomly offered as part of an incentive to favour people’s desire to learn. It is dropped in our hands, no longer do we have to seek and look for it. The message which is implied by the will for free culture appears as important as the actual act of its diffusion for the reason that the attributes of what one calls “culture” change in their signification. Widespread and easy access to texts and images is not of course entirely novel. Internet has already made available an immense reservoir of artistic production[2]. The internet revolution not only provides ever increasing amounts of people with a huge variety of resources, but considerably changes the mental pattern of cultural reception. Internet has fostered under the patronising idea according to which it is those who use it that make the culture it diffuses. If one can access any given text, it is because one should have the right to consult what he himself could have produced. However, it is not internet itself but the voluntary decision processes which render culture immediately available without any counterpart which should be considered. To what extent a project such as Notes from the Underground is representative of cultural trends which have as an end the diffusion of a knowledge of quality and use as the means to this end measures of quantitative distribution? Is the evolution towards the abolition of a mediation between culture and the spectator, or at least the confusion between the sphere of mediation and that of reception, inexorable? Rather than judging the pertinence of new means of cultural diffusion, one can consider the underlying ideas which give a meaning to how culture eludes certain areas of the public sphere to concentrate on others. The role of the actual physical relationship between the artistic creation and the public, the status of participation of artists and public in culture, and the change in the value conferred to art through its modes of representation are all problems which can be reflected upon under this angle.
To find a book one wants, one disposes of many other solutions than laboriously scrutinizing a bookshop’s shelves. Nevertheless, it probably stays the only way through which one can feel and see the “object-book” he is buying before actually buying it. Whether this preliminary contact is still considered important or even necessary by the public is doubtful. First of all, it becomes accessory because information one receives is logically valued more than the supporting material- sound, image, paper…- which transmits it[3]. One has the choice of the supporting material but is he really concerned about this choice when the criteria of selection becomes the facility of access and not the comfort of reception of the information? Notwithstanding the actual relation one will have to the material which provides him with given information when he will actually read or listen or look at the information, it seems more important to make the cultural object as accessible as possible before actually considering its content. For this reason, the will for a greater access for all to culture does not necessarily imply a will for culture in itself. In the case of free distribution of magazines in the street, this idea is even more relevant. How is the success of this form of information measured? Does sponsorship depend on the efficiency of distribution? These questions should not obliterate the fact that a random street walker who picks up a magazine will not necessarily read it, and even if he does look through it, he may throw it away 15 minutes after having discovered its existence. The physical relationship between the public and art appears determinant, especially when the setting of this relation is the large and swarming streets and avenues of European capitals. In L’oeuvre d’art à l’époque de sa reproduction mécanisée[4], Benjamin analyses the relationship between masses and art through the example of architecture[5]. If a tactile mode of reception of art works through habit, a visual mode of reception works through contemplation and habit. However, when it comes to the perception of architecture, the spectator observes buildings less with the eye of an attentive expert than with the eye of a distracted passer-by. Commonly, one distinguishes the distracted masses who only seek entertainment from the genuine amateur who is capable of meditation in front of a masterpiece. The apparition of visual arts, cinema and photography, has rendered general the law of perception according to which the spectator must absorb the shocks that shifting images release upon him. Contemplation does not suffice, “tactile appropriation is accomplished not so much by attention as by habit”[6]. This means that even the distracted eye gets used to certain perceptions. The film, thought Benjamin, was the proper field of experience of this profound transformation of our modes of reception, reception through distraction. If one transposes this idea to the reception of literature in the streets, one may see the importance of notions such as habit and distraction in the way one accesses culture. How many people actually consciously take hold of a literary magazine out of interest for literature and passion for reading? Is it not common that every one of us accepts this kind of distribution, assimilated to that of free newspapers, by the habit of reception in distraction? Knowing that when we will come out of the underground, we will have the choice of picking up the magazine that interests us or of refusing to read even a single one of them, we make street diffusion of culture depend on our refusal to be distracted when we receive it. Again, the difference lies in the actual acceptation of possessing the supporting material of culture and the decision to consider the literature it offers. It seems far-fetched to rely on the quantity of magazines distributed to judge of the quality of the relationship between art and public. Indeed, the shock of reception does not confuse the image and the content of art but is displaced from the content to the supporting material. Moreover, in this case, one does not only refuse to read any abandoned piece of literature but one informs a person whose work it is to distribute this literature that he does not want to read it. The social pressure inherent to this mode of distribution makes the autonomous decision to refuse what is offered somewhat disturbing.
Accordingly, if the massive diffusion of culture is unanimously favoured and associated to the progress of our civilisation, it questions one fundamental change in our relationship with art: our participation in it. For Benjamin, “the desire of contemporary masses to bring things ‘closer’ spatially and humanly, […] is just as ardent as their bent toward overcoming the uniqueness of every reality by accepting its reproduction ”[7]. Indeed, this impassioned longing for an immediate presence of the world is expressed by the reproduction of unique and authentic forms of art. The aura of art is its capacity to return to the spectator the look he sets upon it or the reciprocity of sensations between a unique spectator and a unique aesthetic object. Benjamin theorised the dissolution of this aura when he saw that the immense means of reproduction of art which accompanied the modernity was false aesthetic reception insofar as the masses would have access to reproduced works and not original ones. Today, this observation seems too obvious to be recalled. Nevertheless, it is still possible to judge the consequences of such a revolution. Never do we have access to the original piece of work of an author, except if his production is originally numeric and therefore destined to be reproduced. This type of production precisely appeals to a large number of people because it implies that, notwithstanding the quality of the piece of work, it will be accessible to more than a single pair of eyes. The line between artists and public is thus indistinct. The recognition of an author is not only possible through his popular success, but also through the nature of his work. Press has in fact enlarged the possibilities of creation in the public. As Benjamin expressed it[8], at any moment, the reader is ready to become author. It is the work which is valued, not so much a special competence, because literature is originally public in these forms of distribution. When a literary magazine invites its readers to contribute to the content, the question of participation becomes essential. One cannot give way to the criticism of the defenders of an ancient order which clearly drew a line between artists and public if one acknowledges that there still are aesthetic conceptions which determine discourses on art and its reception. It would be dangerous to stigmatize cultural initiatives under the false pretence that they obey to no clear vision of art, and only express a soothing and conformist desire for extended creation. A magazine such as Notes from the Underground makes it clear that the apparent atomised content of artistic production today is united to some extent under the principles of a post-modern definition of art. Questions such as: ‘Can masses differentiate the pleasure of art and criticism?’ or ‘Is art destined for all if the artist’s status and the critic’s status are equally valued?’ are fallacious insofar as they rely upon vague and standardized definitions of what the masses are, and what art is. They are relevant when they do not use categories of thought which primarily render art sacred and masses profane. It seems important to recall that the sphere of art is changing because the value given to art is changing.
Art has become a business. When new modes of marketing value not the artistic object itself, but the capacity to diffuse it, art’s status inevitably changes. According to Foucault[9] the value of objects exists only in representations. Two types of values are formed in commerce: an object attains its value in the act of exchanging; an object has a value before the exchange and it is a condition of this exchange. In economics, the relation to an object and the assertion that it is desirable come down to the same idea. Some objects appear desirable before the exchange; the value of other objects is defined by the future exchange. How does this distinction help one understand the value of ‘free’ literature? In this particular case, the desire for an object relies on the advertisement and the speeches which accompany its diffusion. It is valued because it appears as an innovating idea. However, the commercial idea itself is not new; the idea of free access to culture is not either. It is the combination of these two elements which determines to some extent the value conferred to the object before its distribution and in the time of its distribution. Does the public question the content of the object when he knows it is free? Is it not common to give an artistic value to the object only once the monetary value of this same object is understood as coming down to nothing, and demanding no financial effort? Thus, if art is inexorably associated with commercial value, it would seem relevant to give great importance to the intentions and formulations which are tied to its diffusion. In order for art to remain remote from consumable goods, at least in its effects on the public, certain guidelines must be promoted by those who diffuse it. A current conflict between the French bookshop syndicate and the Internet’s first bookselling site, amazon.com, in which the first accuse the second of not respecting the unique price of books, pertains to this change in our relation to art [10]. Bookshops defend loyal competition by claiming that they are doomed if people start buying more books off the internet than they do in shops. They are indeed facing multiple competitive assaults including that of websites which use the marketing argument that they will pay for the transport fees of books. An alternative is probably for booksellers to start trading online, if they have not already. However, when literature is free, and comes physically to us, how are we to react? Of course, the decision to read a paper or not remains that of every individual, but the content of what one will read stays uncertain until one actually reads what one is holding in his hands. If such initiatives flourish, it will probably mean that the public is responsive to the glimpses of art that it is offered, but it may also mean that this sort of press could be pervaded by competitive policies. If a literary magazine’s goal is to be the most appealing to the public, it could be completely dependant on the idea of offer and demand. If its goals are clearly defined, and pedagogy primes over general opinion (doxa), that will not be the case.
Indeed, massive diffusion of culture appears problematic when some authority dictates what the messages transmitted must be. On the other hand, it also becomes problematic when the sole objective of those who promote it is to make culture massive. The same troubles emerge when novelty and originality are erected as the primary values of art, and the least manifestation of inventiveness is unanimously sanctified as revolutionary. Hence, our purpose is not to criticize in itself the diffusion of culture on a great scale but to point out the eventual flaws which can come out of its reasons for being. At a time when our receptivity to art is physically changing, one cannot disapprove of the incredible possibilities it enables for all. One cannot regret an ideal of pure art intended for the spiritual enlightenment of the masses, and not realize that the price of the freedom of artistic production is to be under the guidance of no preconceived notion of art. What gives its unity and its force to art consists precisely in the capacity of cultural actors to make individual creations influence one another and echo one another. To this extent, the spectator has a primordial role to play as he gives his consent to the quality of a work of art by recognizing the insatiable desire for renewed creation it conveys.
Pierre Testard
[1] Notes from the undergound can also be found in certain book stores or public libraries in London, or read online (www.notesfromtheunderground.co.uk).
[2] Cf. the launching of europeana.eu- temporarily theeuropeanlibrary.org , a website which gives access to the national libraries of more than 30 european countries. Its aim is to respond to the decision of Google, in cooperation with the biggest American and English libraries, to digitalise about 15 million printed books over six years. The main fear provoked by Google’s initiative was seeing an American vision of the world take over the network in the future.
Cf. also Jean-Noel Jeanneney, Quand Google défie l’Europe. Plaidoyer pour un sursaut, Paris, Mille et Une Nuits, 2005
[3] A chair on this subject has recently opened in the “Collège de France”, under the responsibility of Gérard Berry. Its reflections have as a starting point the question: “Why and how is the world becoming numeric?” (Pourquoi et comment le monde devient numérique?)
[4] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.177-248
[5] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.214-217
[6] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.214-217; Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, in pages.emerson.edu/Courses/spring00/in123/workofart/Benjamin.htm
[7] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.183 ; Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, in pages.emerson.edu/Courses/spring00/in123/workofart/Benjamin.htm
[8] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.203
[9] Michel Foucault, Les mots et les choses. Une archéologie des sciences humaines, chapitre VI : Echanger, V. La formation de la valeur, Paris, Gallimard, 1966, p.202-209
[10] c.f. Thierry Wolton’s article in Le Monde of the 19th of January 2008, the response of Irène Lindon and Françoise Nyssen in Le Monde of the 25th of January 2008, and Antoine Gallimard’s contribution to the debate in Le Monde of the 29th of January 2008.
[1] Notes from the undergound can also be found in certain book stores or public libraries in London, or read online (www.notesfromtheunderground.co.uk).
[2] Cf. the launching of europeana.eu- temporarily theeuropeanlibrary.org , a website which gives access to the national libraries of more than 30 european countries. Its aim is to respond to the decision of Google, in cooperation with the biggest American and English libraries, to digitalise about 15 million printed books over six years. The main fear provoked by Google’s initiative was seeing an American vision of the world take over the network in the future.
Cf. also Jean-Noel Jeanneney, Quand Google défie l’Europe. Plaidoyer pour un sursaut, Paris, Mille et Une Nuits, 2005
[3] A chair on this subject has recently opened in the “Collège de France”, under the responsibility of Gérard Berry. Its reflections have as a starting point the question: “Why and how is the world becoming numeric?” (Pourquoi et comment le monde devient numérique?)
[4] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.177-248
[5] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.214-217
[6] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.214-217; Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, in pages.emerson.edu/Courses/spring00/in123/workofart/Benjamin.htm
[7] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.183 ; Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, in pages.emerson.edu/Courses/spring00/in123/workofart/Benjamin.htm
[8] Walter Benjamin, Gesammelte Schriften, third version translated in French, in Ecrits Français, Paris, Folio, 1991, p.203
[9] Michel Foucault, Les mots et les choses. Une archéologie des sciences humaines, chapitre VI : Echanger, V. La formation de la valeur, Paris, Gallimard, 1966, p.202-209
[10] c.f. Thierry Wolton’s article in Le Monde of the 19th of January 2008, the response of Irène Lindon and Françoise Nyssen in Le Monde of the 25th of January 2008, and Antoine Gallimard’s contribution to the debate in Le Monde of the 29th of January 2008.