From Mass Observation to Big Observation: Anthropologies of Ourselves

Bolton, Lancs 1937: for Mass Observation
Humphrey Spender, Ashington, Pub interior, 1937/38 © Bolton Council, from the Collection of Bolton Library and Museum Services. Courtesy of the Humphrey Spender Archive
When you’re photographing people, unless they’re friends or relations, you set up a temporary relationship which I found myself disliking more and more – the artificiality of it. And worst of all, when you’re photographing people without them knowing – which is the form of photography that still interests me most – you eliminate all relationship.  (Humphrey Spender, 1981)
In the 1980s Humphrey Spender’s mostly covert, surveillance-type photographs of Worktown received the Foucauldian treatment. Accordingly, the photographs were attributed with reproducing the structure of a ‘colonial-bourgeois gaze’: a rapacious, quantifying gaze that locates and subjugates the visible body within a nexus of power. Characterising Steve Edwards’ oft-quoted critique of Spender’s photographs, printed in Ten.8 magazine in 1984, Jessica Evans writes that the “presumption of realism in these photographs effaced the position of the knower and thus rendered ‘the other’ as a savage yet paradoxically impoverished threat”. [1] Raphael Samuel saw entrapment in the Worktown photographs: “The people look preoccupied and withdrawn. Faces, where they are seen in close-up, are lined with worry.” [2] In no place do they look more trapped than in that home from home the pub, where drinkers, Samuel writes, are literally cornered. Spender’s naïve naturalism was thought to express the naïvety he assumed of his subjects. Thus cornered, the working-class appear lumpen, unable to attain revolutionary self-consciousness – a privilege only afforded the (bourgeois) viewer. In these photographs realist aesthetics are fashioned to reflect bourgeois experience, which is assumed to be the only experience.
Plugged-in to thinking photography, Michel Foucault motivated revisionary histories of the medium and enlivened critical consciousness of picture making. The Foucauldian method’s greatest application was in examining power relations between the observer and the observed, and the instrumentality of the archive in ordering and producing knowledge according to hierarchical values. Power, Foucault wrote, is what displays itself most and hides itself best. His gesture towards a ‘micro-physics of power’ offered a powerful corrective to the reductive Marxist view that power was only wielded by state apparatus such as the family, church, or schools . “Foucault opens up,” John Tagg wrote in The Burden of Representation in the late ‘80s, “a new territory that is neither violence nor ideology, coercion nor consent; that bears directly and physically upon the body – like the camera’s gaze – yet it is also knowledge. This knowledge and this mastery constitute what he calls the political technology of the body”. [3]
Presidio-modelo2
The Presidio Modelo in Cuba, inspired by Bentham’s panopticon. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
For Foucault, the Panopticon was a key political technology of the body. Social reformer Jeremy Bentham’s unrealised project the Panopticon was an architectural figure that composed in physical space a history of techniques for excluding, measuring, supervising, and labeling abnormality. It consisted of an annular outer building, divided into discrete, modular cells surrounding a central watch tower. Confined to these cells, fixed into place, were the inmates. From the central glass tower, behind blinds, a surveillant could see the immobilised inmates without himself ever being seen. It’s a form of surveillance based on a system of permanent registration: since the inmate is unable to verify whether he’s being observed or not, the surveillant need not necessarily even be present for it to function. As such, the Panopticon induces in the inmate “a state of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power”. [4] There is a minimum basis of inter-personal engagement, however, as Foucault writes, the inmate “is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication”. [5]
Looking back, it seems the desired outcome of the Foucault cabal’s ex-cathedra pronouncements on graven images would have been no images. When David Alan Mellor and Derek Smith first exhibited Spender’s Worktown photographs at the University of Sussex in 1977, they liberated a body of work that had lain fallow in the archive for forty years. Talking with Spender had impressed upon Mellor the extent to which the supposedly unified category of documentary photography was deeply contingent upon context. Printing Spender’s photographs and researching the paintings and photographs of Humphrey Jennings set Mellor off “thinking and writing other histories of twentieth century visual culture which were interdisciplinary and related to points in German and French modernist practices”. [6] But the effect of isolating Spender’s photographs, in particular, from the assembly of the Mass-Observation archive was not only to discipline them, but to attribute an agency all but afforded them at the time. It exposed Spender to a shit storm of criticism that figured him as representative of the project at large. Spender was only in Bolton for a few weeks. [7]
Tom Harrison with Mass Observers in 85 Davenport Street, Bolton
Humphrey Spender, Planning observations at 85 Davenport Street,1937/38 (left to right: Walter Hood, Tom Harrison, John Sommerfield, unidentified man) © Bolton Council, from the Collection of Bolton Library and Museum Services. Courtesy of the Humphrey Spender Archive
Such readings, Ben Highmore argues, not only are negligent of the variations in Mass Observation activity, but deploys a methodological instrument “that is historically blunt and can’t differentiate between cultural practices in the 1930s and those in the 1830s”. [8] “It dedifferentiates,” he continues, “by imposing overarching meanings on the social functions of technologies such as photography and journalistic reportage.” [9]  Indeed Highmore, along with Nick Hubble, offer nuanced histories of Mass Observation that, to further mix my metaphors, reconstruct the nut after the Foucauldian sledgehammer. The Foucauldian fallout in visual anthropology, Elizabeth Edwards writes, was a series of overdetermined, reductionist, ahistorical interpretations of visual material that posit a one-sided power relation between the observer and observed, self and other subject and object. What’s emerged in its place is a heightened awareness of the dynamism of cross-cultural encounters, where photographs are not “merely the overt instruments of surveillance, discipline, and political control but sites of intersecting and contested histories, intentions and inscriptions”. [10]
Spender’s experience of photographing in Worktown engendered acute feelings of guilt, embarrassment and intrusion. In 1981, looking back at his time there, he recalls how he was constantly faced with his class distinction. “I was somebody from another planet,” he told Jeremy Mulford, “intruding on another kind of life… A constant feature of taking the kind of photography we’re talking about – even when people were unaware that they were actually being photographed – was a feeling that I was intruding, and that I was exploiting the people I was photographing.” [11] All Tom Harrison, co-founder of Mass Observation, wanted from the photographs was factual data.To him the photographs were transparent, evidential artifacts of analogical certitude and plentitude. Harrisson, Spender recalled, would literally search the whole surface of a collection of photographs for information, for “image-facts”: the number of rings that people were wearing on their fingers, whether they were wearing horn-rimmed glasses, how many people had beards, how many didn’t have beards, how many people had cloth caps in a football crowd. [12]
Spender’s photographs were reduced to image-facts within a radically open-ended, collaborative “anthropology of ourselves”
Spender’s photographs share with the metronomical “no-style style” of nineteenth-century anthropological photographs an assumed transparency; formally, they couldn’t have been more different. “My feeling about the proper function of the camera,” Spender explained to Mulford, “is that it should be concerned primarily with recording and providing information.” However, he continues,“it’s important to stress that it’s impossible to exclude the person in charge of the camera from most kinds of picture: indeed, that can have its own great interest”. [13] Harrison recognised that different Mass Observers had different observational competencies – the metaphor of the camera is revealing: “Mass Observation has always assumed that its untrained Observers would be subjective cameras, each with his or her own individual distortion. They tell us not what society is like, but what it looks like to them.” [14] Jessica Evans has suggested that Spender’s photographs, diverse and incoherent when taken as a whole, produced a conundrum for Harrisson. Evans supposes that in the absence of archival skills necessary to impose a logic on the pictures they remained ‘uninterpretable’: 
(10) Press Image l Mass Observation l This is Your Photo l Humphrey Spender, Crowd at market, 1937
Humphrey Spender Crowd at Market, Bolton, 1937 © Bolton Council, from the Collection of Bolton Library and Museum Services. Courtesy of the Mass Observation Archive
Whilst it was possible to use (written, spoken) language to produce… statistical knowledge… the meanings of the photographs that Spender produced were, I suggest, in excess of this narrow definition of knowledge and could not be contained by it. His photographs appeared to arrive at Harrisson’s door with their meanings incomplete. [15]
But Harrisson was not in the business of interpretation – certainly not on a macro scale. Spender’s photographs were reduced to image-facts within a radically open-ended, collaborative “anthropology of ourselves”. And irrespective of a supposed hierarchy between language and the visual, the photographs were minimised in a general archival surfeit that constantly outstripped Mass Observation’s capacity to process it. It included Day Survey directives carried out by a large team of part-time and full-time observers, including housewives, unemployed workers, students, artists and writers. (Shortly before Mass Observation formed, co-founder Charles Madge announced in the pages of the New Statesman in 1937, that in order to carry out fieldwork in Britain it may be necessary to pay attention to the phenomenon of coincidences since British society was so “ultra-repressed”. [16] Poet Kathleen Raine described Mass Observation as “less sociology than a kind of poetry, akin to Surrealism”). After only a year, Charles Madge faced an estimated 2,300,000 words of Day Reports. [17] In Tom Harrisson’s first report to the Vice Chancellor of Sussex University he admits that although quantity is there for all to see, at present it remained an undigestible and largely unclassified bulk of massive raw paper. [18] This insistence of Mass Observation’s participants’ attending to the everyday as a mass project of collecting ‘facts’ suggests, writes Ben Highmore, (potentially) a project so vast that, rather than commenting on the everyday, it would become coterminous with it. [19] If Mass Observation sought to “get written down the unwritten laws, make the invisible forces visible… study… the unwritten and the uncodified” [20] then the archive represents a precohate abundance of facts to be correlated and condensed. Narratives would come later.
In the last decade, the terms of the Foucauldian critique of surveillance and taxonomy have returned in discussions of that sphere in which so many of us today labour at our own unsanctioned “anthropology of ourselves”, the Internet. Power today, sociologist Zygmunt Bauman writes in Liquid Modernity, moves at the speed of an electronic signal: digital information flows have accelerated to maximal speed, melting and reforming stable identities and rules characteristic of a once solid modernity. “Whatever else the present stage in the history of modernity is,” Bauman writes, “it is also, perhaps above all, post-Panoptical.” [21] What mattered in the Panopticon was that the surveillant was always assumed to ‘be there’ in the controlling tower. In post-Panoptical power relations, according to Bauman, those operating the levers of power, on which the fate of the less powerful partners in the relationship depends, can at any moment escape beyond reach – into sheer inaccessibility. [20] The end of the Panopticon: augurs the end of the era of mutual engagement: between the supervisors and the supervised, capital and labour, leaders and their followers, armies at war. The prime technique of power is now escape, slippage, elision and avoidance, the effective rejection of any territorial confinement with its cumbersome corollaries of order-building, order-maintenance and the responsibility for the consequences of it all as well as of the necessity to bear their costs. [23]
 David Reid, MyScreen #69, UK, 2011
David Reid, MyScreen #69, UK, 2011 
For the American Professor of Computer Science C. Dianne Martin the internet is our Panopticon of today, only in reverse. [24] While sharing with Bauman a conception of the nomadic surveillant, the “reverse Panopticon” advances a vitally different kind of observer-observed relation enabled by the promoter of Web 2.0, Tim O’Reilly. Quite beside our managed presentation of self in everyday web-life, commercial businesses have the facility to capture another layer of data about our everyday actions. Digital personhood enfolds the conscious cultivation of online identity and identity reduced to datasets. The ability to ‘harness’, ‘harvest’ or ‘curate’ this data is an extraordinary asset. Our bank cards reveal our spending habits, mobile phone operators not only know who we talk to but who is nearby, our Oyster cards where we travel. Online, Amazon monitors our shopping preferences, Google our browsing habits. Twitter our everyday utterances. Facebook is a platform for whatever information we offer it. Knowing about us through the data produced by our interaction is one of the factors that makes Google one of the most powerful corporations on earth in the early twenty-first century. [25] According to Martin, in the age of the “reverse Panopticon” each of us now inhabits the position of the glass tower, with surveillants in shuttered rooms all around us. Instead of the one surveillant to many inmates of Bentham’s Panopticon, we are each an inmate surrounded by many surveillants.[26] “When we are ‘surfing’ the web,” John Dovey writes, “we spend a lot of time, like actual surfers, waiting for the wave, waiting for the series of connections that will turn the heart/brain/eye/mouse/database/router/server assemblage into a wave of discovery.” He continues:
“We produce value for new media economies through the expression, attention and co-creation of our subjectivity… Web media invite the user to join, to create a profile, to post blog posts or other announcements, to make links, to invite other friends and so on. This is not because media providers just want us all to play nice and have lots of warm friendships. It is because they are seeking, in a crowded, transient marketplace characterised by a nomadic audience, to create brand engagement… Our behaviour becomes data that can be sold on without our knowledge and then be used to maintain consumption in whatever segment of the long tail our habitus is identified with.” [27]
speaking for yourself increasingly becomes speaking to yourself”
Our web actions are the immaterial labour of an unsanctioned contemporary anthropology of ourselves. On the internet, our digital visibility meets that other Foucauldian fetish of post-modern photographic discourse: the archive and its transmission. Today the internet is a kind of infinity archive in motion. The hierarchy of information we receive is a reflection of the digital habitus we create for ourselves on our desire-driven journeys (deciphering this could be the key to a mass online Surrealism). Our conscious and unconscious actions reflect back – a narcissistic loop – informing increasingly targeted marketing. The quantity of information that assailed Mass-Observation in its early years is minuscule compared to that generated by web actions today. With the use of computer algorithms, this ‘big data’ can be made sense of to gain new insights or create new forms of value previously not possible with smaller datasets. [28] In the era of Big-Observation [29] speaking for yourself increasingly becomes speaking to yourself. While university committees puzzle over the ethics of curating web data for social science and anthropological research, the likes of the National Security Administration and Google – whose memorable policy is to “get right up to the creepy line but not cross it – help themselves.
Data Centres for the New York Times Magazine
Simon Norfolk, One of the Colocation Rooms at Microsoft’s mega data centre in Quincy, Washington. 2010 ©Simon Norfolk/Institute for Artist Management
Where is photography in all this? Clearly the photograph is still a privileged visual means of communicating identity online. Ontologically, however, it is a calculable image, an array of values – with metadata – which enables subjecting the image to mathematical operations. [30] The photographic trace is rematerialised into digital trace data. Online, the hierarchy between language and photograph, which Evans suggested was problematical for Mass Observation, is leveled. In the post-photographic era, the calculable image is a multivalent, recodable networked object within web ecology.
“Power,” John Tagg wrote in the 80s, “in this new type of society, has drained deeply into the gestures, actions, discourses and practical knowledge of everyday lives. The body itself is invested by power relations through which it is situated in a certain ‘political economy’, trained, supervised, tortured if necessary, forced to carry out tasks, to perform ceremonies, to emit signs.” Channeling Foucault, he might have been describing the contemporary internet. Perhaps what’s needed once again is a sledgehammer, only more nuanced, please. Failing that, call me an anthropologist and I’ll gather a cohort of poets, photographers and artists for a residency at GCHQ.
Jonathan P Watts is a critic and writer based between Norfolk and London. He is associate lecturer in Critical and Historical Practice in Photography at Nottingham Trent University. 
References / Bibliography
The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997.
Britain by Mass Observation, Charles Madge and Tom Harrison, Faber & Faber, 1939/2009.
First Year’s Work 1937-1938 by Mass Observation, Eds. Charles Madge and Tom Harrisson, Faber and Faber Ltd, 1938/2009.
Humphrey Spender, Worktown People: Photographs from Northern England 1937-38, Falling Wall Press, 1982/1995.
Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, Peregrin Books, 1979.
C. Dianne Martin, ‘The Internet as a Reverse Panopticon’ in ACM, Vol 4., No.1, March 2013.
Speak For Yourself: A Mass-Observation Anthology 1937-1949, Eds. Angus Calder and Dorothy Sheridan, Oxford University Press, 1985.
Digital Anthropology, Eds. Heather A. Horst and Daniel Miller, Bloomsbury Academic, 2012. 
John Dovey, ‘Time Slice: Web Drama and the Attention Economy’ in Ephemeral Media: Transitory Screen Culture from Television to YouTube, Ed. Paul Grainge, British Film Institute / Palgrave Macmillan, 2011.
Jens Schroter – Archive – post/photographic, Media Art Net: http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/themes/photo_byte/archive_post_photographic/1/
Geoff Batchen, ‘Guilty Pleasures’ in Ctrl [Space]: Rhetorics of Surveillance from Bentham to Big Brother, Eds. Thomas Y. Levin and Ursula Frohne and Peter Weibel, MIT Press, 2002.  
Zygmunt Bauman, Liquid Modernity, Polity Press, 2000/2006. 
Nick Hubble, Mass Observation and Everyday Life: Culture, History and Theory, Palgrave Macmillan, 2006/2010. 
David Allan Mellor, ‘Mass Observation: The Intellectual Climate’ in The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997.
Philip C. Logan, Humphrey Jennings and British Documentary Film: A Re-assessment, Ashgate, 2012.
Ben Highmore, Everyday Life and Cultural Theory: An Introduction, Routledge, 2002.
Made to Be Seen: Perspectives On The History Of Visual Anthropology, Eds. Marcus Banks and Jay Ruby, The University of Chicago Press, 2011.
Viktor Mayer-Schöenberger and Kenneth Cukier, Big Data, John Murray (publishers), 2013. 
Robert Ackland, Web Social Science, Palgrave, 2013.
Don Macpherson, ‘Nation, Mandate, Memory’ in The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997.
Jonathan Zittrain, The Future of the Internet — And How To Stop It, Yale University Press, 2008.
Arthur, Charles. (2013) Reddit’s Boston marathon speculation shows the limits of crowdsourcing [ONLINE] The Guardian. Available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2013/apr/19/reddit-boston-marathon-crowdsourcing [Accessed 19 May 2013].
Buchanan, Matt. (2013) The Internet Mystery-Solving Machine [ONLINE] The New Yorker. Available at: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/elements/2013/04/the-great-big-mystery-machine.html [Accessed 19 May 2013].
Horning, Rob. (2012) Liquid Modernity and Social Media [ONLINE] The New Enquiry. Available at: http://thenewinquiry.com/blogs/marginal-utility/liquid-modernity-and-social-media/ [Accessed 19 May 2013].

[1] Jessica Evans, introduction to Don Macpherson, ‘Nation, Mandate, Memory’, in The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997, p.145.

[2] Raphael Samuel, Theaters of Memory: Past and Present in Contemporary Culture, Verso, 1994, p.331.

[3] John Tagg, The Burden of Representation: Essays on Photographies and Histories, University of Minnesota Press, 1988/1993, p.70.

[4] Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, Peregrin Books, 1979, p.200.

[5] Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, Peregrin Books, 1979, p.200.

[6] David Alan Mellor, introduction to ‘Mass Observation: The Intellectual Climate’, in The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997, pp.132-133.

[7] Nick Hubble, Mass Observation and Everyday Life: Culture, History and Theory, Palgrave Macmillan, 2006/2010, p.139.

[8] Ben Highmore, Everyday Life and Cultural Theory: An Introduction, Routledge, 2002, p.78.

[9] Ben Highmore, Everyday Life and Cultural Theory: An Introduction, Routledge, 2002, pp.78-79.

[10] Elizabeth Edwards, ‘Tracing Photography’ in Made to Be Seen: Perspectives On The History Of Visual Anthropology, Eds. Marcus Banks and Jay Ruby, The University of Chicago Press, 2011, pp.174-176.

[11] ‘Interview with Humphrey Spender’ by Jeremy Mulford, in Humphrey Spender, Worktown People: Photographs from Northern England 1937-38, Falling Wall Press, 1982/1995, p.16.

[12] ‘Interview with Humphrey Spender’ by Jeremy Mulford, in Humphrey Spender, Worktown People: Photographs from Northern England 1937-38, Falling Wall Press, 1982/1995, p.20.

[13] “The fact that they have become – particularly the original prints – ‘art objects’ in frames,” Spender tells Mulford, “makes me uneasy.” In ‘Interview with Humphrey Spender’ by Jeremy Mulford, in Humphrey Spender, Worktown People: Photographs from Northern England 1937-38, Falling Wall Press, 1982/1995, p.23.

[14]  First Year’s Work 1937-1938 by Mass Observation, Eds. Charles Madge and Tom Harrisson, Faber and Faber Ltd, 1938/2009, p.66.

[15] Jessica Evans, introduction to Don Macpherson, ‘Nation, Mandate, Memory’, in The Camerawork Essays: Context and Meaning in Photography, Ed. Jessica Evans, Rivers Oram Press, 1997, p.145.

[16] Speak For Yourself: A Mass-Observation Anthology 1937-1949, Eds. Angus Calder and Dorothy Sheridan, Oxford University Press, 1985, p.3.

[17] Speak For Yourself: A Mass-Observation Anthology 1937-1949, Eds. Angus Calder and Dorothy Sheridan, Oxford University Press, 1985, p.73.

[18] Humphrey Spender, Worktown People: Photographs from Northern England 1937-38, Falling Wall Press, 1982/1995, p.7.

[19] Ben Highmore, Everyday Life and Cultural Theory: An Introduction, Routledge, 2002, p.83.

[20] First Year’s Work 1937-1938 by Mass Observation, Eds. Charles Madge and Tom Harrisson, Faber and Faber Ltd, 1938/2009, p.8.

[21] Zygmunt Bauman, Liquid Modernity, Polity Press, 2000/2006, p.11.

[22] Zygmunt Bauman, Liquid Modernity, Polity Press, 2000/2006, p.11.

[23] Zygmunt Bauman, Liquid Modernity, Polity Press, 2000/2006, p.11.

[24] C. Dianne Martin, ‘The Internet as a Reverse Panopticon’ in ACM, Vol 4., No.1, March 2013, p.9.

[25]  John Dovey, ‘Time Slice: Web Drama and the Attention Economy’ in Ephemeral Media: Transitory Screen Culture from Television to YouTube, Ed. Paul Grainge, British Film Institute / Palgrave Macmillan, 2011, p.143.

[26] “This tension between digital visibility and control,” Martin, Professor Emeritus of Computer Science at George Washington University, writes, “presents an interesting topic of discussion for computer science courses… As future computer scientists, our students will become the architects and maybe even inspectors of the digital reverse panopticon.”

[27] John Dovey, ‘Time Slice: Web Drama and the Attention Economy’ in Ephemeral Media: Transitory Screen Culture from Television to YouTube, Ed. Paul Grainge, British Film Institute / Palgrave Macmillan, 2011, pp. 142-143.

[28] Viktor Mayer-Schöenberger and Kenneth Cukier, Big Data, John Murray (publishers), 2013, p.6.

[29] Big-Observation: a hybridisation I propose of Big Brother and Mass-Observation. Coincidentally, George Orwell, imaginaire of Big Brother, was over in Wigan at about the same time Mass-Observation were in worktown.

[30] Jens Schröter, Archive – Post/Photographic, p.6: http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/themes/photo_byte/archive_post_photographic/1/

One Comment

  1. Interesting idea, no longer an attempt to observe the ‘masses’ but observation by the masses, constant observation of others and of others watching us – how many people have checked me out today? In an everyday sense, what is the relationship of photography with power in this new configuration? There’s big power and observation, all that GQCQ data, and then there’s power’s personal shaping through social networking and so. In the latter we use photography to shape how we want to be seen, its power is in our own hands, that of our associates, and out to other broader fields depending on the number of people paying us attention. Photography is an increasingly complex space, and, as JPW writes, we see it through ‘a heightened awareness of the dynamism of cross-cultural encounters, where photographs [and photographers] are not “merely the overt instruments of surveillance, discipline, and political control but sites of intersecting and contested histories, intentions and inscriptions”. Who would have thought it, the big data digital realm brings new life to the photograph producing a dynamic site for a study of the relationality of just about everything.

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