Chevy Novas and Toyota Toyolettes:
Defending the Region from the
Generalized Elsewhere
ANDREW KIRBY
INTRODUCTION: NO SENSE OF PLACE
It is the conventional wisdom, thanks to McLuhan, that the world
has shrunk to the size of a medieval village. The electronic media of
communication have, with their instantaneous reach, overcome the
tyranny of distance; indeed, some might assume that we are
witnessing the progressive destruction of geography.1
Joshua Meyrowitz has argued recently that these media are "of no place";
they reflect a world of shopping malls and ersatz food whose only
characteristics are their very universality. In consequence of their
flattening impact, we find that places are increasingly commodified,
and that the singularity of, and thus the importance of the locality,
is consequently diminished.
In this paper I wish to argue that Meyrowitz is misguided in the
emphasis that he gives to universality in his interpretations.2
While it makes good sense to apply his analysis to interpersonal relations
within the spaces of the home, it is not legitimate to extend this logic
to the region or locality. Below, I shall continue my dialogue with
Meyrowitz, emphasizing that his behavioralist interpretations are
poorly suited to the task of understanding social issues in general,
and the "becoming of places" in particular. I examine why spatial
diversity slips from sight within American life, a process which has
obvious implications for our understanding of a region such as the
Southwest.
COMMUNICATION, MODERNITY AND LOCALITY
In his book No Sense of Place, Meyrowitz indicates how the
electronic media have increased greatly the influence that they exert.
This leverage is to be understood via Grofman's concepts of front, middle,
and back regions. In essence, the media, and most noticeably television,
have brought regional behavior back out into the open. Actions which
were once manifested only in closed spaces, such as the bedroom or the
locker room, are now in the public domain. Consequently, many of the
spatial structures that have permitted both individuals and groups to
maintain exclusivity have been eroded. Prisons, mental hospitals,
operating and delivery rooms, even the British Houses of Parliament,
have all experienced the glare of the video camera.
No Sense of Place makes important points with respect to social
interaction; there remain however lingering problems with the way
that the argument is extended from individual spaces–such as the
locker room–out towards regions in their totality. On several
occasions, Meyrowitz states that the singularity of place is disappearing
due to the media: there exist "fewer distinctions among places"
(182), or "different places are still different, but they are not as
different as they once were" (145). It is hard not to see the force of
Meyrowitz's argument, for both radio and TV transmit mundane messages
which are emphatically placeless. Don DeLillo captures this rather
well in his book White Noise; the narrative is peppered with
advertisements and the language of consumerism: significant phrases
muttered during sleep turn out to be recitations like "Toyota Corolla,
Toyota Celica, Toyota Cressida"; as DeLillo observes, these are
"supranational names, computer generated, more or less universally
pronounceable." This recognition of the power of modernity to
overcome the practices of different people in different places does not,
though, necessitate our acceptance of all Meyrowitz's implications.
It is plausible to argue that television has collapsed the internal
Organization of the home: it is not correct to argue the same for the
locality.3
Meyrowitz suggests that there is a close link between communication
and territoriality. As we share a common message, such as capitalism,
the symbols of territoriality collapse: the disappearance of the Berlin
Wall comes readily to mind.4 We must, however, be cautious
when making sweeping statements. While nations within the European
Community, to take a salient example, may progressively lose their
sovereignty, the physical segregation within countries
is actually increasing. In the United States, there is a proliferation
of exclusive residential spaces that take significant precautions to
exclude those who do not belong: guards, gates, and guns all
emphasize territoriality.5 On a less exclusive note, the
growth of adult or retirement communities, residential resorts based
typically around a golf course, and gay neighborhoods all testify to
a need to create explicit and exclusionary living spaces. Communication
has an enabling role here as electronic devices such as facsimile
machines, modems, and cellular phones allow instantaneous transmission
for both business and personal purposes, which makes face-to-face
contact often irrelevant. However, the motivations are linked much more
closely to the ties between the economics of real estate and exclusivity:
as David Harvey observes, "the qualities of place stand thereby
to be emphasized in the midst of the increasing abstractions of
space." 6
This argument can be extended to include the locality. Meyrowitz
argues that TV is "of no place," while I would argue that it exhibits
explicit frictions: that is to say, a tension between national uniformity
in terms of program planning and production on the one hand, and
localist tendencies on the other. The network, then, is national,
placeless, generic. Local affiliated stations maintain their profitability by
commodifying the locality. They do this in several ways: via local
news programs, via selling cheap videotaped advertisement slots to
local dealers, and via offering the reruns that viewers want to see.
The local TV or radio station sells the locality back to itself, using the
identification of place as a bond between consumer and producer.
The content of programs, too, has implications for our
understanding of place and image. Even the most mundane soap opera is
based typically in some specific locality, because places carry a
powerful implication of social relations. In both "Dallas" and "Miami Vice,"
the locality functions as an additional character; it is much more than
a backdrop, it is a shorthand for a complicated set of social and
political relations.7 The use of Miami, for example, avoided the need
to spell out the details of the drug cartels; it was enough to sketch
the powerful Central American connections that exist in the city. So,
too, in "LA Law," there is little coincidence in the use of the title and
the detailed panoramic shots of the Los Angeles skyline. The city is a
symbol of materialism, yuppie values, and postmodern architecture.8
Advertising, the most persuasive dimension of the electronic
media, is only superficially of no place. National corporations are
growing more cognizant of regional tastes and offer product
variations that will connect with different styles of life. A New York
advertising agency offers demographic data on eight regions in the
United States, and the Campbell Soup Company recognizes
twenty-two smaller regions; these are known to have differences in terms of
food tastes.9 Chevrolet's award-winning "Heartbeat" series of
advertisements in 1987 included annotations directed to road and driving
conditions in individual states. In all these instances, manufacturers
increase profit via an identification of place-specific behavior, and in
doing so, they reify that behavior. The reinforcement of an image via
television is an extremely effective way of selling the locality back to
its residents.10
THE GENERALIZED ELSEWHERE
It would be remiss of me to overlook the responses that
Meyrowitz has made to my arguments. He writes:
Kirby's strongest arguments for the enduring significance of
locality are (1) the locality remains the locus of competition
over resources (housing, education and other public services),
and (2) there are subtle and complex differences between life in
different places in terms of weather, terrain and . . . "local
knowledge." Locality, in terms of these two elements, comes
close to being a clear, objective, observable fact. But the
definition is also so broad, ahistorical and safe that is capable of
masking significant changes in human organization and perceptions
of place.11
Meyrowitz suggests, in a number of contexts, just why this author's
arguments are ill-founded. He submits that the profound ignorance
displayed by Americans about the world does not mean that they
have a localist sense; rather, that they cannot read maps. He rejects
the notion that organizations are coalitions of local units; instead, he
favors the more common interpretation that national structures exist
and are, in reality, of growing importance. He disagrees strongly
with the assertion that distant events are mediated through the
locality; satellite broadcasts beam fund raisers directly into the home, he
cites. He disagrees with the notion that there is anything local about
local TV. And he dismisses the relegation of categories such as race
and gender to the status of ideal types, arguing instead in favor of
nationally constructed images of racial or sexual discrimination that
are molded by television. In terms of the aims of this paper,
Meyrowitz's reasoned replies to my interpretations are very useful, for they
show just how a behavioralist discipline, such as communication, sees
the world as glued together through the repetition of human action,
whereas geography is much more conscious of it constantly breaking
apart and reforming. Let me explore this contrast in greater detail.
Geographic Knowledge and Map Reading
I argued that Americans have a profound ignorance about the
globe, which has extended to muddled and incoherent foreign policy
debates.12 One small aspect of this is the way in which
Americans are poor map users. There is a literature on the ways in which
cartographic images are structured, which shows that individual cognition
is dictated in large part by the collective discourse; for example, many
individuals in Southeast Asia would use a Sino-centric projection
when sketching a world map. In suggesting why Americans are
geographically illiterate, Meyrowitz suggests that the electronic media
present gestaltlike images of battles, which undermine our place-consciousness.
While it has become logical in recent years to equate foreign policy with
warfare, this, too, is a social construction; and more important, we have to
ask just why American television presents war in such a manner. It has all
to do with the way in which the United States' world image is constructed;
Vietnam, Panama, or Angola have no geopolitical reality for most Americans,
in government or otherwise.13 Consequently, armed conflict takes on
an existential dimension in which the bloodshed becomes little more than theater.
TV transmits this; it does not create this existential sensation.
Rusty Machine Politics
I noted that what we treat as monoliths–the legal system, the
political parties–are little more than uneasy coalitions: it is not
coincidental that unions are organized via locals, which have always
responded to local labor and wage conditions. As Meyrowitz notes,
union membership has declined rapidly in most industrial nations,
but this hardly negates my observation. Rather, it offers up a
germane hypothesis. Simply, unions have declined precisely because of
their fragmented bases, which cannot compete with the more
powerful organizational structures of global corporations. The collapse of
the miners' strike in the U.K. in 1984-85 showed how different
parts of the union had very different levels of commitment to the
strike, which reflected the varying fortunes of the coal industry in the
various regions and the diverse production relations that had evolved
within the various components of the industry.14
As for Meyrowitz's claims concerning the increasing nationalization
of American politics, this does not stand critical scrutiny. First,
we have seen a major and very public shift in the balance of power
within the party coalitions from east coast to west coast, and from
north to south. The choice of vice presidential running mates is but
one instance of the ways in which the national parties must pay much
more than lip service to regional attitudes. Indeed, it is becoming
quite clear that the national political coalitions are breaking down;
one key indicator here is the way in which citizen initiatives, recalls,
and propositions are proliferating throughout the states. This reflects
a dissatisfaction with the way in which the major parties have no
room for local and regional issues, such as "English only" in Arizona
and Colorado or the cost of auto insurance in California.
In both these instances, we can see a tension between local needs
and national organizational structures. In the union case, labor is
indeed losing ground; contrary to Meyrowitz's assertions concerning
neighborhoods, they are becoming much more powerful in many
American cities: he is, though, hardly the first to misread this issue.15
The Local and the International Conscience
Meyrowitz is on stronger ground when he writes about the links
between voluntarism, donation, and television. There is little to gain
say his observation that famine in Ethiopia is brought to us (albeit,
again, in a gestaltlike manner) via TV and financed via toll-free
telephone numbers. There is much more to say though concerning the
way in which distant events are evaluated and interpreted. By
Meyrowitz's logic, famine displaces our ability to comprehend
problems, such as homelessness, that exist around us. However, the facts
are not consistent with these arguments: individuals are much less
prepared to give via a television fund raiser than they are to recognize
the claims of the homeless within their own community, fund public
television, or donate their labor to hospitals and hospices.16 It is not
plausible to suggest that images of the dead and dying arrive in our
homes in a non-problematic way: Meyrowitz skates over the fact that
people do not switch on to watch corpses; they switch on to see rock
stars and film stars do their stuff. The audience (presumably a limited
one in terms of age) enters into a simple trade-off transaction: see
this spectacle, pay a price. This really has little to do with the broader
range of people who make wider choices about how they give to
those in need; from my standpoint, the needs of those in Africa are
filtered through a pre-existing tens that includes the needs of family,
neighbors, and those visible on the street. As Meyrowitz notes, it is
ludicrous to suggest that "Live Aid" reinforces a sense of place:
rather, it competes with, but may reinforce, such a relation.
Is Local Television Local?
Meyrowitz argues that places are commodified in generic ways.
That is not a major insight: capitalism is a wave of homogenization
with regard to process, even though that wave breaks in many
different ways (as was argued above with respect to advertising). Aspen,
Santa Fe, and Reno are all tourist towns; they attract visitors for
identical purposes (their dollars), but they market themselves as
unique entities. Part of their style is visual and visible; the timbered
chalet architecture of Vail or Apsen, Colo., could not be confused
with the adobes of Santa Fe or Taos, N.M. Part is in the activities
that go on there; do not go to Reno if you want to purchase
authentic turquoise and silver.17
Now, no one in is his right mind visits a town for its television, but
it plays a role nonetheless. As Meyrowitz points out, advertisements
do not define everyday life, but they do play a part in the definition
of the parameters of style. When Phoenix Cardinals coach Gene
Stallings was fired in the fall of 1989, a local bank that had featured him
in advertisements immediately rushed out a new message from the
ex-coach: now I really need a good return on my investments, and
I'm getting it with the First Mountain Bank. Doubtless, Meyrowitz
would argue that this is only one commercial, to be weighed against
a dozen generic potato chip adverts. This is true quantitatively, but
the latter succeed, if at all, on a subliminal level, whereas local
advertisements operate through the collective discourse. This, in turn,
brings us back to local news, which revolves around, and adds to,
that common sense. Meyrowitz downplays the importance of the
latter; starting from the opposite direction, we might ask the innocent
question: if it is unimportant, why do local stations spend so much
to generate their own news programs and employ their own staff,
when they could manage well enough by just relaying the network
efforts? The answer is clear: stations need to display local allegiances
in order to differentiate themselves, and competitive news
broadcasting is currently one currency in this strategic game.
Member of Aggregates
Meyrowitz agrees that there exist geographic differences in the
understanding of the stereotypes of man, woman, caucasian, black,
hispanic, and so on. He suggests, though, that the media, in offering
a view from no place, are in fact creating ideal types. This is, in my
view, the most provocative of Meyrowitz's observations, with the
most important implications for our understanding of the world.
There is much to agree with in the assertion that television has
created new norms of behavior, notably with respect to the way
in which nontraditional views of women have reverberated within
our society. Roseanne Barr, Nancy Reagan, Leona Helmsley, and
Madonna may, in their public personae, be media creations, but they,
nonetheless offer alternatives to women who would perhaps
encounter only one of these ideal types in their neighborhood. This
notwithstanding, it is still not the case that homogeneity is at our
feet. I do not accept that the smokers at the next table are part of a
national struggle between my side and theirs. In Tucson, smoking is
accepted in certain part of restaurants. In Hollywood, it is banned
from public places. In Chicago, the concept of a no-smoking section
is still novel. The collective discourse on the risks of smoking vary
markedly from place to place.18 The same logic applies more crucially
in the case of race relations. I would agree that race is now understood as
an embracing factor: indeed, the urge to replace the terms hispanic,
black, and Asian, by Mexican American, African American,
and Asian American indicates just such a sense of relatedness.
Nonetheless, there is little question that the terms of racial struggle are
mediated via local political practices, local employment opportunities, local
educational experiences, and the longstanding cultural
forms that contribute to local knowledge. Blacks may well have their
expectations defined in part by the quarterbacks, talk show hosts,
and comedians who invade their living rooms; but they must still
translate those expectations through the reality of the streets, the
courts, and the personnel department.
This is the point at which Meyrowitz's argument drifts away. He
concludes his analysis with a vision that echoes the postmodern
descriptions that have become so familiar. All is change, all is choice.
We can reconstruct ourselves in new locations, reconstruct ourselves
as a one-person household, and yet these choices are illusionary.
Most single parents enter into serial monogamy; the form of the
household is constant, only the individuals are different. People may
move to small towns, but these very rapidly turn right back into big
cities within a decade. However much the existential media may offer
us dazzling alternatives in the living room, they in the end do
nothing more than offer ideas. They can do nothing to empower
individuals or collectivities in their struggles: these are generated in situ.
Meyrowitz's ideas are useful to us here because they represent a
common interpretation of the power of modernity. The intellectual
willingness to jettison the variations that exist within civil society
from location to location is not restricted to some within the
communication discipline; it is a general tendency, and an instructive
one. As Berger and Luckmann observed, "The world of everyday life
is structured both spatially and temporally. The spatial structure is
quite peripheral to our present considerations." A glance at their
writing shows, of course, that it is anything but peripheral.19 This
confusion draws upon the myths of a totalizing discourse in offering
up a placeless world, a dystopia which does not–mercifully–exist.
CONCLUSIONS
I have argued that regions and localities can still possess
individuality, however much the processes of capitalism serve to smooth out
such distinctions. This defense of the region, however, depends upon
resistance against "the generalized elsewhere." This resistance must
take several forms; what is prized must be protected and preserved,
even at high cost; new residential and industrial developments must
be evaluated against a broad set of criteria, and the future must be
approached via some systems of community planning. These steps
will guarantee that the locality will retain control of its growth and
change, although two caveats are in order. First, it is much harder to
plan for an entire region, as a multiplicity of governments typically
will disagree. And second, there may be a literal price to pay for a
defense of the locality. The examples of Boulder and Santa Barbara
show just what is possible in terms of controlling the terms of
development and creating a community aesthetic. Such communities,
however, are also likely to limit growth, tear down low-income
homes, and rapidly create very expensive localities that lack cultural
and class diversity.
Nor is a defense against the processes of capitalism all that is
necessary. The community may also attempt to define its own quality of
life, a process that reflects its sense of historical and geographical
development. It may find, however, that this brings it into conflict
with the state apparatus, which exerts enormous control over local
governments. While communities have, for instance, declared
themselves as nuclear-free zones, there are costs to be borne by such
actions, and the costs are in direct proportion to the effectiveness of
the act. For example, large numbers of municipalities have registered
their opposition to nuclear weapons strategies and/or the transport
of nuclear products through their environs by a declaration of
various types of ordinance. The federal government has overturned such
controls, arguing for the necessity for pre-emption in the national
interest. A parallel example can be seen with environmental
legislation generated at the local level. In two decisions rendered in 1986,
the U.S. Supreme Court overturned a Los Angeles County ordinance
and a provision of the 1972 California Coastal Zoning Management
Act, both of which had been appealed by development interests.
Powerful lobbies, such as the NRA, have also used the political process
to attact local governments' efforts to generate gun control within
the community.20
This does not indicate that the locality is a relict form of
organization, soon to disappear under the tidal waves of capital appropriation
and big government. It does, however, show that a defense of the
region is a complex task, that it is a political task, and that it must rest
upon a broad basis of support. Without this, the generalized
elsewhere will triumph, and the death of geography can be proclaimed.
FOOTNOTES
- J. Meyrowitz, No Sense of Place. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. The
tendency has a long pedigree; Evelyn Waugh observed that "science annihilates distance"
over fifty years ago.
- For a full discussion of this argument, see A. M. Kirby, "Context, Common Sense
and the Reality of Place: A Critical Reading of Meyrowitz" Journal for the Theory of Social
Behavior 18, 2 (1988): 239-50; and "A Sense of Place' Critical Studies in Mass
Communication 6(3):322-6 see also commentary by J. Meyrowitz, "The Generalized Elsewhere"
Critical Studies in Mass Communication 6, 3 (1989): 326-33.
- For instance, Meyrowitz submits that in medieval European society,
communication–which was essentially conversation–necessitated
continual face-to-face interaction. The result was that there was little
social segregation. This is certainly true with respect to the home, which
did function as shop, factory, hospital, schoolroom and occasional mortuary.
This logic cannot, however, be extended to the medieval town as a whole.
Residential segregation was in fact quite marked: families of the elite
occupied the city center, close to the spaces that contained the symbols
of power, such as the courthouse and the cathedral. Beyond this core, poorer
families dwelt in inferior homes; beyond them, in turn, were the indigent,
who lived beyond the city walls. In short, it is possible to argue that
communication needs contributed to the lack of differentiation and segregation
within the home; it is not possible to extend that argument to embrace
the entire city.
- In retrospect, it seems futile to have attempted to exclude the capitalist message,
coded in records, cassettes, and even clothes, from the DDR using blocks of concrete.
- The complexities of this process are explored by Paul Knox in his unpublished
paper "The Restless Urban Landscape: Capital, Commodity Aesthetics and the New
Bourgeoisie." Center for Urban and Regional Studies, Virginia Polytechnic, Blacksburg.
- D. W Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity. Oxford: Blackwell, 1989, 295.
- A process which is of course not restricted to television. A short story such as
Barbara Kingsolver's "Why I Am a Danger to the Public" draws its, impact ineluctably
from its setting in New Mexico.
- A contrast can be made with the situation comedy Roseanne, which exhibits more
of the tendencies noted by Meyrowitz. The family is determinedly of no place: the opening
credits show simply a tract house that can be found anywhere in the country. It is only
through circumstantial evidence (debates over the use of chains versus snow tires) and
occasional references to Chicago that we can guess that they inhabit some faceless town in
Illinois.
- A. Freedman, "National Firms Find that Selling to Local Tastes is Costly,
Complex." Wall Street Journal February 9, 1987, 21.
- The reverse is also true. The title of this paper alludes to two apocryphal stories in
which manufacturers erred in their assumptions about the universality of words. In
Spanish, a car named 'Nova" would not be expected to move; one of the first suggestions
for a Toyota compact to be distributed in the U.S. was the unintentional double entendre
of the "toyolette."
- Meyrowitz, "Generalized Elsewhere," 327.
- As a consequence of this confusion, we may note the case with which one
individual could shape postwar attitudes, as is revealed in George Keenan's many writings.
- This has been argued at great length by G. R. Sloan in his 1988 book Geopolitics
in United States Strategic Policy 1890-1987. New York: St. Martin's Press. He contrasts the
complexity of German geopolitical thought with the vacuity of American geopolitics.
- British sociologist Rees writes, "Only in a limited sense was the miner's strike a
national one at all ... not only was the form of the strike in each of the areas of the British
coalfield substantially shaped by local characteristics ... but also this differentiation was
contributory to its overall outcome." G. Rees, "Regional Restructuring, Class Change and
Political Action." Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 3, 4 (1985): 389-406.
- Readers with a strong stomach should read the exchange between Susan Clarke
and Andrew Kirby on the one hand, and Mark Gottdiener on the other over the "death
of local politics": see Urban Affairs Quarterly 25(3), 1990.
- See, for instance, J. Wolpert, Annals of the Association of American Geographer,
1989.
- Gitlin has argued that this commodification process is nothing more than an
expression of the postmodern condition: "Postmodernist literature cultivates place names
in the same way consumers flock to the latest ethnic cuisine–in the spirit of the collector, because the uniqueness of real places is actually waning." Leaving aside the presumption that there are "real" and "unreal' social relations in "real" and "unreal" places, Gitlin might need to contrast his remarks with very similar insights offered by Sinclair Lewis, writing about Main Street several decades ago; this would certainly undermine, too, his assumptions about a postmodern connection.
- See, for instance, A. M. Kirby, "Things Fall Apart: Risks and Hazards in their
Social Context." In Nothing to Fear: Risks and Hazards in American Society, edited by
Andrew M. Kirby. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1990.
- P. Berger and T. Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality. New York:
Doubleday, 1967,26.
- A.M. Kirby, "Law and Disorder: Morton Grove and the Community Control of
Handguns" Urban Geography, 1990, in press.
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