ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE Attention and the phenomenological politics of landscape by Matthew G. Hannah HANNAH, M. G. (2013): ‘Attention and the phenomenological politics of landscape’, Geografiska Annaler: Series B, Human Geography 95 (3): 235–250. ABSTRACT. This article argues that the inherent directedness of attention is a central and pervasive condition of politics across a wide range of social fields. The subfield of landscape geography serves as an occasion to illustrate what can be gained by attending to attention. The argument begins by reflexively placing the problematic of attention within a brief genealogy of constructions of modern perception. Within this frame, the article takes a closer look at the ambivalent and hesitant response to the problem of attention in phenomenology. This field is best positioned to give a foundational account of the political character of attention and to explain the sense in which its relevance transcends the era in which it was first clearly formulated. However, a strong upsurge of phenomenological interest in attention has only appeared in recent years. A review of this work, particularly in the writings of Bernhard Waldenfels, shows how attending to attention can deepen critical analyses of capitalism and spectacle offered by Benjamin, Debord, Rancière and Beller. The final section of the article illustrates key points by staging an imaginary trip through the corporate agricultural landscapes of California. Keywords: attention, capitalism, landscape, phenomenology, spectacle Attention is like the salt in the soup, which is indispensable, but which one scarcely notices (Waldenfels 2004, p. 15).1 Meaning is there to be discovered in the landscape, if only we know how to attend to it (Ingold 1993, p. 172). The inescapable attentionality2 of concrete, embodied life is a crucial if hitherto under-theorized “meshing point” that allows longstanding problems of necessity and contingency, structure and agency, domination and resistance, and determination and freedom to be grasped in new ways. This article seeks to lay some conceptual groundwork for this claim, and to illustrate it through an engagement with the critical political analysis of landscape. Understanding landscapes, so I will argue, requires not only accounts of their material production (Mitchell 1996, 2012), genealogies of political traditions submerged in concepts of landscape (Olwig 1996, 2013), and ideological analyses of landscapes as texts (Cosgrove 1998) but also the elaboration of a political-economic analysis of embodied attention. A number of writings in critical social theory already include some key insights that sketch the rudiments of a political economy of attention. However, the emphasis in this work tends to be placed either upon how well or poorly we attend, the “intensity” of attention, the degree of focus vs dissipation or “distractedness”, or upon the value-generating work of “paying attention” as a hitherto unremarked pillar of capitalism. The argument here seeks to supplement such accounts by highlighting the finite embodied availability and the directional selectivity of attention. Directional here includes but is not limited to the literal, geographical sense; it also describes processes of attending to intangible matters (thoughts, memories, affects, etc.). Distasteful though it may be to think of it in these terms, our attentional “resources” are ineluctably finite. The disproportion between ever-­expanding demands on attention and our static (or at best, much more slowly expanding) capabilities to meet these demands has arguably become more acute in the neo-liberal ‘information age’. This sharpening helps explain both the recent re-blossoming of academic interest in attention (see below) and more popular writings identifying a “crisis of attention” (Gallagher 2009; Jackson 2009). To make sense of such issues, a full political economy of attention must itself attend, first, to the issue of who or what controls what it is we pay attention to (and crucially, do not pay attention to), and second, how the ongoing invisible entourage of unattended matters that accompanies our selective paying of attention underlies social reproduction. Closely linked to these core issues is that of paying attention as a passive vs an active matter. The political approach to attention taken here suggests that, like other human activities, attending to something can be done in a more or less deliberate, reflective and self-directed way. Some of the core questions at stake here can be illustrated with reference to concepts and practices of engaging with landscapes. © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 235 MATTHEW G. HANNAH Despite a general interest among cultural geographers in the space- and place-related aspects of being-in-the-world, it is striking how little explicit attention is paid to attention (though see Schmid 2009; Anderson and Adey 2011; Jones et al. 2011; these authors have undertaken work that clearly raises the issue of political dimensions of attention). This relative neglect is all the more remarkable in view of the fact that the language of many human geographers, like scholars in other disciplines, is utterly saturated with “calls” to address this or that issue, with exhortations to attend to, focus upon or turn to a matter of purported urgency. In fact, we describe large-scale shifts within human geography and other disciplines primarily as turns: the cultural turn, the spatial turn, and so forth. Beyond such strongly attentional language, we sprinkle our debates liberally with a more subtly attentional vocabulary of foregrounding, emphasizing or highlighting. All such language presupposes the selectivity of, and thus the need to compete for, individual and collective attention, with the aim of causing certain issues to “stand out” for their readers against a background temporarily receding into latency. In short, attention is very present in our everyday discourse about what we are, or should be, doing, but largely absent from our theories about the practices we study (more on this below). If attentionality is as basic as I claim it is, however, why has it not been given the attention granted other key features of our embodiment which organize social life? As architectural theorist Georg Franck (1998, p. 15) puts it, ‘How has it come to this odd aversion of the scholarly gaze? Why is the professionally curious attention [of academics] so uninterested in itself?’ The philosopher Bernhard Waldenfels (2004, p. 11) makes a pertinent suggestion: It might be that attention has been treated so casually and negligently, not only in the tradition but in many ways up to the present day, because it so insistently escapes the spectacular polarities of true and false, of good and evil, of justice and injustice, of utility and uselessness, of freedom and dependency – which in no way rules out [the possibility] that it is at work precisely there in a subterranean and behind-the-back way. In his important study of the ‘cinematic mode of production’, Jonathan Beller (2006, p. 6) perceptively argues more broadly that ‘a generalized 236 blindness with respect to the economicization [sic] of the senses’ is in fact ‘a constitutive element of hegemony’. This question cannot be resolved definitively here, but the strange paucity of pre-existing treatments explains the time spent in this article on basic conceptual issues. The primary goals in what follows are, first, to explore the ways in which a phenomenology of embodied being-in-the-world can strengthen our sense of the selectivity of attention as a ubiquitous and important mediating factor in social life, and second, to suggest how capitalist landscape-asspectacle works precisely through processes of embodied attention, how the ‘lie of the land’ (Mitchell 1996) actually lies. The argument will begin with a historically reflexive genealogy of the problem of attention, followed by a partial review of phenomenological writings on embodied attention. This review must be somewhat detailed, as a key burden of the argument is to show how a phenomenology of attention actually points to a political economy of attention. Having established this connection, the subsequent section plugs the account of embodied attention into pre-existing writings on capitalism as spectacle. The final section attempts to illustrate the kind of insights that might emerge at the junction of phenomenology of attention and Marxist landscape studies through an attempt to politicize the notions of affordance and solicitation. The basic idea is illustrated at the end by imagining a road trip through the landscapes north of Bakersfield, California, if you like, the prowling grounds of Don Mitchell, through lenses of affordance and solicitation provided by John Wylie and Tim Ingold. It will be interesting to see what Bakersfield does to these lenses, and at the same time how an appropriately politicized phenomenological approach can enrich our sense of Bakersfield as a produced landscape.3 The emergence of attention as a problem Jonathan Crary’s rich genealogy of modern attention pinpoints the period beginning in the late nineteenth century and crossing into the early twentieth as the era within which attention was initially constructed in scholarly and popular discourse as a field of potential problems and crises, and thus also a field meriting study and intervention (Crary 1999). Citing Foucault and Debord, among others, Crary explores the emergence of attention and its companion “distraction” in the crucible of a capitalism just then consolidating models and norms of the individual © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE subject as producer and consumer. Crary (1999, p. 287) argues that the problem of attention was born of the same malaise scholars have tied to a crisis of epistemology at the time: attention emerges as a discursive and practical object at the historical moment when vision and hearing have become progressively severed from the various historical codes and practices that had invested them with a level of certainty, dependability, and naturalness. The more the senses are revealed to be inconsistent, conditioned by the body, prey to the threat of distraction and nonproductivity, the more a normative individual is defined in terms of objective and statistical attentional capacities that facilitate the subject’s functional compatibility within institutional and technological environments. Peter Merriman (2012, p. 82) notes that attention also became a focus of discussion around this time as the rise of the automobile began to make novel demands on the visual capacities of drivers. These shifts also meant the problem of attention was constructed in relational terms (Crary 1999, pp. 44–45): Attention implied that cognition could no longer be conceived around the unmediated givenness of sense data. To use Piercean terms, it made a previously dyadic system of subject-object into a triadic one, with the third element constituted by a “community of interpretation”: a shifting and intervening space of socially articulated psychological functions, institutional imperatives, and a wide range of techniques, practices, and discourses relating to the perceptual experience of a subject in time. This perceptual experience is in broad terms a framework we still inhabit (Crary 1999, pp. 29–30): Part of the cultural logic of capitalism demands that we accept as natural switching our attention rapidly from one thing to another. Capital, as accelerated exchange and circulation, necessarily produced this kind of human perceptual adaptability and became a regime of reciprocal attentiveness and distraction. Not surprisingly, it was early experimental psychologists who began to pursue the observation of attention in a systematic fashion, and to ask the practical questions whose answers were so potentially valuable to factory managers as well as to early marketing specialists (Crary 1999, p. 24): How did attention screen out some sensations and not others? What determined how attention operated as a narrowing and focusing of conscious awareness? What forces or conditions caused an individual to attend to some limited aspects of an external world and not others? How many events or objects could one attend to simultaneously and for how long (i.e., what were [attention’s] quantitative and physiological limits)? To what extent was attention an automatic or voluntary act; to what extent did it involve motor effort or psychic energy? In more refined and sophisticated forms, these and related questions remain central to the psychological study of attention today (Posner 2004; Styles 2006). The famous figure–ground structure so central to the work of early Gestalt psychologists, for example, remains fundamental to much experimental work (Arvidson 2006). This is not accidental. Crary (1999, pp. 30–31) acknowledges that: even as the global functioning of capitalism has mutated in the course of the twentieth century into postindustrial and information / communication-based phases, attention as a subjective and social problem retains some enduring features. A key point to note is that it has often been psychological research, more than phenomenological work, which most clearly problematizes the directionality of attention in the flow of embodied experience. Crary’s genealogy is crucial in that it places the emergence of the problematic of attention within a historically (and geographically) specific constellation of capitalist modernity, and this helps us avoid a transcendental, essentializing account of attention. Yet he does not see the durability of the problem of attention since its initial emergence as an occasion to question his genealogical commitment to framing attention merely as a contingent construct (Crary 1999, p. 23). This is the point at which I would like to diverge from Crary, and to interpret differently some of the valuable groundwork he has laid. In short, I would like to argue that, although only “discovered” a little over a century ago, embodied human attentionality is a far more durable, © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 237 MATTHEW G. HANNAH more “viscous” feature of our corporeal organization than an undifferentiated commitment to historical contingency would suggest. To support this assertion, it will be necessary to explore the twentieth century phenomenological discourse on attention that emerged within the historical problematic whose inauguration Crary traces. Although this discourse is fully historical, its encounter with the historically more viscous structures of attentionality indelibly tied to our corporeal organization as biological beings (Fracchia 2005) allowed it to produce insights valid beyond the context in which they emerged. The problem of attention remains relevant in the twenty-first century, and is not likely to be overcome anytime soon. The directedness of engagement-in-the-world Early phenomenologists were already aware of the centrality of attention as a feature of human experience (Depraz 2004). However, they did not devote much energy to unfolding an account of it, subordinating its importance to the concept of “intentionality”, the general fact that consciousness is always “a consciousness of something” (Husserl [1931] 2012, p. 67). As John Wylie notes, intentionality has generally been associated in the phenomenological literature with activity, whereas attention is more likely to be associated with passivity (Wylie, personal communication). This will prove to be an important issue in the politics of attention sketched below. The relation between the two concepts was itself political from the beginning. Husserl, also writing at the time of the first flush of psychological interest in attention, characterized attention as ‘a species of remarkable transformations of consciousness which cut across all other kinds of intentional occurrences, and constitute therefore a quite general structure of consciousness sui generis’ (Husserl [1931] 2012, p. 192). Elsewhere he summarizes the embodied movement of these ‘remarkable transformations’ as ‘turning-oneself’ and ‘becoming salient’ (quoted in Depraz 2004, p. 10). Husserl did not develop these thoughts very far, however, and this neglect set the tone for many of his prominent inheritors. Natalie Depraz (2004) links Husserl’s reluctance to pursue the issue to the politics of his discipline-founding ambitions, his insistence on distinguishing phenomenology as clearly as possible from the ‘merely empirical’ work of psychologists (see Husserl [1931] 2012, pp. 337–338, note 4). Heidegger, following Husserl, noted that 238 intentionality, our fundamental relatedness-to-theworld, is always directional, and his concepts of directionality, deseverance and fallenness all hold potential for helping to understand attention existentially (Heidegger 1962). Nevertheless, like Husserl, Heidegger did not discuss these concepts in such a way as to provide a detailed analysis of the attentional character of the flow of engaged action. In his account of human spatiality, where a careful description of the processes of attention would have fit quite well, his emphasis lay primarily on the conditions of possibility for what he called ‘one’s factical orientation at the time’ (Heidegger 1962, p. 146). Merleau-Ponty, most attuned among twentieth century phenomenologists to spatial aspects of embodiment, likewise relegated this ‘factical orientation at the time’ to a lower order of significance than the existential structure of intentionality making it possible. It is worth dwelling for a moment upon Merleau-Ponty’s thinking in his 1962 Phenomenology of Perception (Merleau-Ponty 1962), as it brings to light core issues for the argument proposed here. In an early section of this study (Merleau-Ponty 1962, pp. 30–31), he explicitly dismisses the investigation of attention as necessarily based upon the empiricist ‘constancy hypothesis’, the notion of the prior stability of the world, over which attention simply plays like a searchlight, merely illuminating but not co-creating the things of the world. The constancy hypothesis clearly violates a fundamental premise of phenomenology after Heidegger. Interestingly, though, and crucially for my argument here, there is no necessary link between the constancy hypothesis and the directional play of attention. The directional selectivity of momentary attention is independent of assumptions about the inertia or animation of the engaged world. To jump ahead historically for a moment, the current interest among human geographers in the performativity and mobility of our engagements in the world might even suggest that a view of the world as actively involved in embodied perception (e.g. Whatmore 2006; Wylie 2006) would foreground the ongoing, directional flow of this mutual animation. However, for the Merleau-Ponty of Phenomenology of Perception, this path is blocked by the characteristic phenomenological emphasis on intentionality as a condition of possibility. Thus, for Merleau-Ponty, the moving momentary relation between field and object that characterizes perceptual attention is always relativized and © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE rendered less interesting by the fact that it presupposes an indissoluble intentional link between body and environment. Merleau-Ponty (1962, p. 150) illustrates this link, for example, by insisting that ‘[m]­y flat … remains a familiar domain round about me only as long as I have “in my hands” or “in my legs” the main distances and directions involved, and as long as from my body intentional threads run out towards it.’ Thus the paying of attention is a secondary and derivative momentary activation of some “intentional threads” at the expense of others: ‘In normal vision … I direct my gaze upon a sector of the landscape, which comes to life and is disclosed, while the other objects recede into the periphery and become dormant, while, however, not ceasing to be there’ (Merleau-Ponty 1962, p. 78). The confidence Merleau-Ponty has in the stable availability of the world in which we are corporeally embedded is well captured in his explanation of ‘strange mode of existence enjoyed by the object behind our back’. He contrasts the experience of the normal adult to that of the ‘hysterical child who turns round “to see if the world behind him is still there”’. Normal adults do not suffer from such anxieties because of ‘that original structure which ensures that … [the world’s] hidden aspects are as indubitable as its visible ones’ (Merleau-Ponty 1962, p. 29). The constancy hypothesis may have been rejected, in other words, but the primacy of intentionality ends up functioning in a similar way, in continuing to downplay the importance of the more dynamic play of attention. Why has it been necessary to explain all of this at such length? Because the marginalization of attentionality pinpoints a core sense in which phenomenology has unnecessarily de-politicized itself. In emphasizing the general availability of the world via intentional threads that can be activated or not at any given time, Merleau-Ponty effectively obscures the issue of the unavoidable selectivity of any and all particular engagements, and thus also the necessarily political issue of exactly which engagements are in fact activated. The political economy of attention is ignored. In his later work, MerleauPonty would radicalize his scepticism regarding the constancy hypothesis, understanding the world as a fully active and co-creative partner in embodied life (Merleau-Ponty 1969; Wylie 2002, 2006; Anderson and Wylie 2009). Here, too, there is no a priori reason to assume this would cause him to continue to dismiss the momentary play of attention. However, it would fall to other phenomenologists to demonstrate that attention could be studied as an inherently embodied and constitutive phenomenon not necessarily beholden to the constancy hypothesis. Paul Ricoeur’s phenomenology of the will, originally published in 1950, represents a more promising engagement. Ricoeur (2007) gives attention a central role as a cornerstone of his description of the phenomenon of decision or choice. In a subtle account of willing as a process structured by the three moments of decision, effort and consent, Ricoeur (2007, pp. 4–5) rejects the tendency in psychological discourse to treat the will and involuntary needs or impulses as external to each other: the initial situation revealed by [phenomenological] description is the reciprocity of the involuntary and the voluntary. Need, emotion, habit, etc. acquire a complete significance only in relation to a will which they solicit, dispose and generally affect, and which in turn determines their significance, that is, determines them by its choice, moves them by its effort, and adopts them by its consent. The involuntary has no meaning of its own. Only the relation of the voluntary and the involuntary is intelligible. Will as an entangled process of volition, in other words, should not be confused with a voluntaristic notion of disembodied autonomy. Within this inseparable relation of the voluntary and the involuntary, Ricoeur (2007, p. 149) argues that ‘decision advances and lives as process from hesitation to choice’ (see also Waldenfels 2004, pp. 111–112). The vehicle of this advance is embodied attention, which directs thought or activity on the basis of the complex results of the interaction of voluntary and involuntary, cognitive and affective, motivations. This conception of attention is useful for my argument because it begins to provide an anchor for a political analysis of attention in terms of autonomy and heteronomy. However, Ricoeur does not venture any specific claims about the historicity, much less the politics, of configurations of the voluntary and the involuntary. More recent authors have called for phenomenology to overcome its longstanding hesitancy and to take up the problem of attention in closer analyses of who and what is at work in the concrete flow of attention (Depraz 2004; Steinbock 2004a, 2004b; Waldenfels 2004; Arvidson 2006). Bernhard Waldenfels, also one of the foremost interpreters of Foucault in Germany, approaches the problematic of attention from precisely the sort of perspective that © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 239 MATTHEW G. HANNAH can historicize and develop Ricoeur’s basic insights. Waldenfels’s account brings together more durable or viscous and more fleeting dimensions of historical change, and links the phenomenological to the political. He argues that, because attention has continued to be so marginal to philosophical inquiry, a whole series of its features remain to be examined in depth (Waldenfels 2004, p. 9): Among these is the scenic character of experience, whose open edges don’t let themselves be closed off in a rule-bound or system-conforming way. There is also a singular mobility, which expresses itself in the fact that something emerges and sinks away, that something or someone comes toward us before we move toward it, that arrival and origin [Ankunft und Herkunft] interlace … But at the same time the phenomenon of attention teaches us that everything that takes place between us and things, between me and others, works through manifold intervening institutions and practices [Zwischeninstanzen]. The arsenal made up of techniques, media, social practices, which shapes attention and allows an economy and a politics of attention to emerge, is the work of inventions that reach far back into our individual and collective prehistory, and in which culture and nature blend into each other. The core of Waldenfels’s account is an exploration of this mediated character of attention, in the course of which he reveals traditional dualistic conceptions in terms of “active” and “latent” attention or “figure” and “ground” to be not wrong but merely too simplistic and a-historical. Like previous authors, Waldenfels (2004, p. 117) sees attention as stratified. He distinguishes between “primary” or “creative” and “secondary” or “repetitive” modes of attention, where the former, [t]he originary form of attention, in which experience moves beyond itself, signifies a form of making possible, that makes something other and further possible and does not merely realize what is already potentially there [angelegt]. As a key moment it opens up certain possibilities in that it closes off others. Secondary attention, by contrast, can be understood more adequately via the image of a spotlight illuminating different regions of a landscape already present (Waldenfels 2004, pp. 117–118). 240 In partial alignment with calls by John Wylie, Ben Anderson and others (Wylie 2006; Anderson and Wylie 2009), Waldenfels (2004, p. 100) argues for a more fundamental acknowledgement of the role played in soliciting attention by what is external to the embodied individual: ‘No more than becoming obtrusive [das Auffälligwerden] … is simply an objective process, is turning towards or turning away to be seen as a purely subjective act of knowing or willing. There is a two-sided constellation, but a broken one’. What “breaks” it is a whole suite of “intervening events” [Zwischenereignisse] that tie processes of attention to changes in the way matters become obtrusive or sink into obscurity again, the way expectation and memory modulate attention, or the way movements towards and away from matters of concern facilitate or hinder attentiveness (Waldenfels 2004, chapter IV). The mutual implication of “subject” and “object” of attention is further complicated by the Zwischeninstanzen mentioned above, the intervening social institutions and practices, and it is here that Waldenfels (2004, p. 235) crucially recognizes the inherently political importance of attention: ‘The event of power [das Machtgeschehen] stands in close relation to the event of attention, where something becomes noticeable to me and not rather something else. This unavoidably selective “rather” repeats itself in [the act of] drawing attention [im Aufmerksammachen]’. Waldenfels (2004, pp. 273–274) contrasts the core politics of attention to more familiar political dichotomies of refusal or affirmation of existing orders, building a bridge in the process to a more genealogical understanding of politics: Looking away and “hearing away” [Weghören] can be understood as partial seeing and hearing, so that they would only be another expression for the selective effect of attention. Attending to something would then mean eo ipso leaving other things unattended-to. Husserl takes this constitutive thus and not otherwise into account in that he distinguishes between actual and potential attention. If this field of possibilities which Husserl also calls a “field of freedom” … is transferred from the level of consciousness to the history of being or of discourses, as we know these from Heidegger or Foucault, it would become a back-and-forth of revealing and hiding, of closure and openness, or of truth and error. The Yes/No no longer attaches to the seen, the © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE heard or the said, but rather enters into the conditional constellation [Bedingungsgefüge] of the visible, audible or sayable. The No inherent in the Yes would be a sign of our finitude, which rules out an “everything-at-once”. This is a crucial point: ‘[t]he No inherent in the Yes’. A critical politics, however, can unfold not only in this overall economy of turning towards-and-away but more specifically also in the project of attending to politics, especially where it appears to be absent (Waldenfels 2004, p. 228): [There is] not only a power of attention, but also, to turn things around, an obtrusiveness or unobtrusiveness of power. Attention gains a practical dimension when it comes to the training of attentional practices, and a politics of attention, as well as an economy of attention is developed. At this point there is a dovetailing between an historicized critical phenomenology of attention and writings in the Marxist tradition, based around the core issues raised by Ricoeur and fleshed out in more historical terms by Waldenfels: the autonomy vs heteronomy of attention and the critical analysis of the intervening institutions and practices that shape the possibilities for autonomy and heteronomy. A politics of attention Writers drawing on Marx have approached attention and distraction as collective phenomena important primarily in determining the historical consciousness of the working class (Debord 1994; Benjamin 2008). Put somewhat simplistically, Walter Benjamin’s discussion of attention centres on the ways in which modern reproducible, “postauratic” art forms, particularly film, subtly train the mass of workers to absorb and accept capitalist reality in a state of ‘distraction’ (Benjamin 2008). With the terms attention and distraction, though, he means what could be termed focused and dissipated attention. His purpose is to highlight the usefulness to capitalism of mass distraction (in his sense) as a matter of the debilitation of critical faculties, but also to explore possibilities for new forms of working-­class consciousness emerging from historically changing cultural experiences. What is useful for my argument in Benjamin’s account is his diagnosis of how film continually disrupts viewers’ attempts to fix and control attention by introducing new sensations at a rate that always threatens to overwhelm the audience’s capacities. This fixation and control in effect forces the paying of attention to become more passive than it otherwise might be. For Debord (1994), the “society of the spectacle” is one in which the working class becomes fascinated by a partial, superficial image of reality and thus loses a clear view of the full, historical capitalist reality that underlies and produces this image. As with Benjamin’s essay, Debord’s argument can be seen to concern distraction primarily in a qualitative sense. Also like Benjamin, Debord sees one of the main effects of distraction in the inability to achieve a unified grasp of the world. However, whereas the contrast to Benjamin’s distraction is “immersion” or focused contemplation of a work of art (Benjamin 2008, XV @Location 487–497 in e-reader edition), contemplation for Debord (1994, para. 1–3) signals the debilitation of working class consciousness under capitalism: In societies where modern conditions of production prevail, all of life presents itself as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has moved away into a representation. The images detached from every aspect of life fuse in a common stream in which the unity of this life can no longer be reestablished. Reality considered partially unfolds, in its own general unity, as a pseudo-world apart, an object of mere contemplation … As a part of society [the spectacle] is specifically the sector which concentrates all gazes and all consciousness. Due to the very fact that this sector is separate, it is the common ground of the deceived gaze and of false consciousness, and the unification it achieves is nothing but an official language of generalized separation. This perspective is also useful in pointing to the dangers of a distanced passivity adopted in relation to the spectacular environment of capitalism. Despite their differences of focus, Benjamin and Debord together highlight the critically important fact that a politics of attention must be centrally concerned with the control of individual or collective attention. Jacques Rancière (2007) can be brought in here because he introduces a category that can further specify the landscape-related issues at hand. Rancière (2007, p. 12) identifies the politically crucial patterning of produced fields of attention as ‘the distribution of the sensible’, the ‘system of © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 241 MATTHEW G. HANNAH self-­evident facts of sense-perception that simultaneously discloses the existence of something in common and the delimitations that define the respective parts and positions within it’. Rancière (2007, p. 13) thus locates aesthetics at the core of politics, as a delimitation of spaces and times, of the visible and the invisible, of speech and noise, that simultaneously determines the place and the stakes of politics as a form of experience. Politics revolves around what is seen and what can be said about it, around who has the ability to see and the talent to speak, around the properties of spaces and the possibilities of time. This focus upon “properties of spaces” and “possibilities of time” supplements the more abstract, less body-specific aspects of distraction highlighted by Benjamin and Debord, by emphasizing the detailed textures of what occupies us. The “edges” implicit in Rancière’s notion of the distribution of the sensible can suggest a political reading of some of the so-called post-phenomenological claims regarding “distributed agency”, that is, the ways ‘[t]extures and densities, liquidities and radiances … act as sets of imperatives within and through which movement and sensation are inspired and performed’ (Anderson and Wylie 2009, p. 326). Distributions of the sensible can be thought of as the spatio-­ temporal-perceptual complexes that invite and encourage some attentional engagements and inhibit others, that shape our attentional performativity. Habitus (Bourdieu 1990), the “unacknowledged conditions” of action (Giddens 1979) or the repetition of system-maintaining performances (Butler 1990; see Nelson 1999; Nash 2000) are all to a significant extent products of the ways in which distributions of the sensible channel or solicit attention, as well as the way attentional autonomy can sometimes disrupt such channelling. Such a political economy of attentional performances is, for example, implicitly at the heart of writings on the “Disneyfication” of urban environments through deliberate configuring of “front spaces” and “back spaces” (Sorkin 1992; Zukin 1993). The politics of our attentional performances in the context of distributions of the sensible acquire a sharper edge when set in relation to Jonathan Beller’s (2006) compelling attempt to theorize what he calls the “cinematic mode of production”. By “cinema” Beller intends much more than the 242 restricted sector of filmic and television production: ‘“Cinema” means the production of instrumental images through the organization of animated materials. These materials include everything from actors to landscapes, to populations, to widgets, to fighter-planes, to electrons’ (Beller 2006, p. 14). Capital accumulates, according to Beller, not only through the familiar mechanisms outlined by Marx but also through enlisting spectation or looking itself as a form of value-producing labour. Not only strictly filmic production but many other kinds of social production require from us a relentless labour of “montage”, suturing together fragments into organized wholes (physical products, narratives, etc.) in exchange for pleasures and diversions whose cost to capital is lower than the value realized in our assembly-work (Beller 2006, pp. 9, 39). Effectively, or so Beller argues, through the cinematic mode of production, capital has, from the early twentieth century onward, colonized human faculties in a successful if unrecognized bid to extend the workingday in absolute terms. While Marx, in passages of the Grundrisse about capital’s need continuously to expand the “periphery of circulation”, ‘is thinking of geographical extension and urban intensification … I am suggesting here that capital presently throws its network of control over bodies and masses of bodies’ (Beller 2006, p. 204, cf. p. 205). The ‘economy of attention’ that results from this phase in the history of capital’s long project of ‘mining … human bodies of their power’ (Beller 2006, p. 20) is perhaps easiest to illustrate with Google’s pioneering methods of marketing, which literally and directly capitalize the movement of our attention. Beller indeed re-casts the labour theory of value as but a special case of a broader ‘attention theory of value’ (Beller 2006, pp. 201–202), and argues persuasively that current forms of capital are ever more exclusively focused upon the development of new ‘attention-­ siphoning technologies’ (p. 206). Ultimately, however, Beller, too, fails adequately to theorize the finite availability and inherent directional selectivity of embodied attention, despite the fact that his ‘attention economy’ presupposes these features. The finitude of attentional resources pops up in arresting phrases around the edges of his narrative, as for example when he asks what ‘the legacy of the human body’ is if it is ‘occupied by cinematic consciousness’ (p. 139), when he notes that under the cinematic mode of production ‘the image … sucks up solidarity time’ (Beller 2006, p. 5), or again, in his fascinating, if perhaps © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE rhetorical, proposal for the development of a ‘saturation coefficient’ that would measure ‘the number of sites and intensities of capital’s occupation of the human faculties’ (p. 236, note 14). All of these passages clearly acknowledge the limited character of attention, and the inescapability of opportunity costs whenever we are “occupied” with something. This finitude is the most basic reason that there can be either an “economy” or a “politics” of attention. But like many cultural theorists, Beller is more interested in how the cinematic mode of production has altered “the human faculties” than in the fact that no amount of alteration can eliminate the relative scarcity of attention. Thus he dwells on the ways in which visual technology ‘continues to train us to interface with the environment’ (Beller 2006, p. 107) or ‘tools the body for new labor processes’ (p. 207). Of course there is no disputing the historical malleability of human bodies and their faculties, including our attentional capabilities. However, this malleability is not infinite, and as the review of phenomenology above should have made clear, it is unlikely to allow any sort of “escape from selectivity” in the near future. It is not surprising, for example, that psychological studies have found the scope for so-called multi-tasking, notwithstanding all the hype in recent years, to be quite limited (Styles 2006; Gallagher 2009; Jackson 2009). Landscape, power and attention Against the background of the foregoing politicaleconomic phenomenology of attention, we can finally turn to the study of landscape. Landscapes in the senses that term has been understood in human geography is only one of a much wider array of elements involved in the distribution of the sensible. The work of channelling that landscapes do has been described in part as a matter of the “affordances” they offer. Referring to writings in environmental psychology by James Gibson, Ingold (2000, p. 166) explains affordances thus: [i]f perception is a mode of action, then what we perceive must be a direct function of how we act. Depending on the kind of activity in which we are engaged, we will be attuned to picking up particular kinds of information. The knowledge obtained through direct perception is thus practical, it is knowledge about what an environment offers for the pursuance of the action in which the perceiver is currently engaged. In other words, to perceive an object or event is to perceive what it affords us. Politically, this raises two questions. First, what are the relations of congruence or disjuncture between the purposes of people in landscapes and the affordances offered (or not) for those purposes by distributions of the sensible? Second, does the concept of affordance subtly obscure the fact that different landscape elements often either are deliberately designed and placed so as to manipulate people or, at the opposite end of the spectrum, are so indifferent or hostile to human life that nothing is really afforded? Affordance, in short, has an unmistakable undertone of innocent availability that belies the politics built into produced landscapes under capitalism. It might be useful to see the concept of affordance as anchoring one end of a spectrum whose other end could be termed (rather awkwardly) “withholdance”, an absence of practical, perceptual or affective connection points in a landscape. Landscape elements, objects, scenes, atmospheres, and so on, may thus “solicit” our attention but also repel or discourage it (see Wylie 2009). Thus, in addition to the politics of fetishism and naturalization of the produced world around us, revolving at its core around the qualitative mis-recognition of dead labour (Kirsch and Mitchell 2004), we can also identify a directional politics of attention. The critical approach to affordances advocated here can be further enriched by bringing in the work of scholars in critical media studies (Herman and Chomsky 1988; McChesney 1999), who have made a great deal of progress in understanding how collective attention is constructed and manipulated. At a more fine-grained level, some recent work in nonrepresentational theory focuses on what Nigel Thrift and Shaun French (2002, p. 309) term ‘new landscapes of code’ embedded in our physical surroundings, an inconspicuous complex of programming both reliant upon and designed to serve our selective inattention. Finally, the newly influential “nudge” strategy of governance aims to hard-wire rational or socially beneficial decision-making into situations where people are not attending to the implications of their actions (Jones et al. 2011). These developments are examples of Waldenfels’s category of ‘intervening institutions and practices’ (see above), and form the context as well for Georg Franck’s (1988, 2005) sociology of attention. Franck focuses above all on how individuals and events accrue the power © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 243 MATTHEW G. HANNAH to attract attention, and elaborates a detailed sociology of attention as a scarce commodity on the way to becoming as important a currency as money in the mediatized world of twenty-first century capitalism (see Schmid 2009 for a geographical application of Franck’s conception). The foregoing section should give a sense of where to look for a political interface with phenomenological work on landscape: in the detailed directional movement of embodied attentional engagement with surroundings that can in turn rarely be understood as innocent in the arrangements of affordances and solicitations (as well as withholdances and discouragements) they offer. It is tempting to illustrate the politics of attention by focusing upon the kind of intense urban commercial landscapes, epitomized by Times Square or Bryant Park in New York City, that are in fact designed precisely to solicit attention through strategically placed affordances. Yet I think it may be more illuminating to consider a situation somewhere between the sleepy, picturesque rurality that is so often the setting for phenomenological descriptions and the feverish urban spectacle evoked by Benjamin and Debord.4 I take cues from Tim Ingold’s (1993) transplantation of his readers into the landscape depicted in a Pieter Brueghel painting, from John Wylie’s (2002) account of ascending Glastonbury Tor, and from James Sidaway’s (2009) “alternative”, geopolitically informed walk along an urban section of the South West Coast Path, to transplant a phenomenological perspective into the productive landscapes of California, the scene of Don Mitchell’s (1996, 2012) rich political analyses. How do these working landscapes interact with the attention of people in them? Don Mitchell (2012, p. 46) vividly describes California agricultural landscapes as “produced”: Actors – particular growers, operating individually or collectively, state agents, workers, families seeking to make a comfortable home in an unincorporated shacktown at the edge of Stockton or Bakersfield – seek to reshape the land and embed in the physical landscape all manner of things commensurate with their needs, ranging from irrigation ditches to tent platforms to power lines to massive warehouses. How might we experience the landscape evoked here? As Ingold (1993, p. 166) notes, ‘movement is the very essence of perception’, so I will conjure a brief road trip, premised on my having already flown 244 to Los Angeles, rented an (air conditioned) automobile, and made my way to Bakersfield. To establish some comparative resonance, passages from Wylie’s (2002, pp. 446–449) account of the drive from Bristol to Glastonbury Tor, and from Ingold’s (1993, pp. 164ff) discussion of the Brueghel painting, will provide way-markers with which to frame hypothetical snippets from the journey through California landscapes. These passages are chosen partly for the dramatic contrasts they suggest between different ways of approaching similar aspects of landscapes, and to that extent they are admittedly a bit unfair to these authors. Nevertheless, my hope is that these passages will provoke reflections on each of the three basic elements of mobility identified by Cresswell (2010): physical movement, representations, and embodied practice. Ascent and descent on the road Into soft hilly country. A series of peaks and troughs, the course of road through north Somerset is an affordance. As the car alternately climbs and plunges, so vistas loom and sink … And these vistas slide around the sides of the car, into the narrowing funnel of the visible passed, as the road begins to assume a more definite southerly track (Wylie 2002, p. 447). I head northwest out of Bakersfield on Rte 99, the Golden State Highway. It is high summer, so the heat shimmers off the road and the fields in what would be a desert were it not for irrigation. I am glad to have AC, but a bit uncomfortable after the overstuffed sandwich I ate for lunch (I certainly feel like my body has done its part today as an “accumulation strategy”; see Harvey 1998). Although there are impressive mountains off to the right, the agricultural landscape ahead is very flat. I know it looks geometrical from above, having studied the area on Google Earth beforehand, but the processes of ascent and descent so typical of British landscapes are not afforded here. Wylie (2002, pp. 443–446) argues that the process of ascent is an important way in which the impression of autonomous subjectivity is precipitated. One is fated here to maintain one’s subjectivity through other devices (memory, anticipation, the experience of durability of embodied awareness), and to live the bird’s-eye geometry in the form of straight lines running parallel, perpendicular, or at various angles to the direction of movement. Because of the heat, distance is also indexed © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE in the sharper or more shimmering outlines of features closer or further away. The straightness of the open road beckons my vision onward, but at the same time the symmetrical screens lining the roadway in the form of fruit orchards engender a bit of uneasiness that, in effect, the landscape is conducting me too quickly beyond itself. I look for a convenient turn-off that might afford a slower point of entry. Beckoning Beyond here, the road takes on a gaudy holiday feel. At Green Ore crossroads a forest of brown tourist signs and B&B premises advertise the proximity of Cheddar Gorge and Wookey Hole Caves. All these urge away from the A37, which hurries forward into a forest (Wylie 2002, p. 447). Through a gate in the campsite, a gravelled, manicured track leads to a densely hedged and brambled public footpath (Wylie 2002, p. 449). The difficulty is that few signs actually “urge away” from Highway 99 north of Bakersfield. There are occasional billboards, but they tend to plug destinations (such as the Delano Best Western) still many miles ahead, so they are urging me along the road rather than off it. In Tim Cresswell’s (2010, p. 26) terms, these signs do not generate a sense of “friction”. This reinforcement of “moving along” is probably one symptom of the fact that these are indeed landscapes devoted above all to producing material goods, not (local) experiences. That there is less immediate “beckoning”, though, is also a matter of the audiences for the signage I do see. Still in Bakersfield itself, I had poked around some of the back alleys on the edge of town and had been confronted with whole neighbourhoods of signs in Spanish catering to the 45 per cent of the Bakersfield population who are Hispanic/Latino, as well as to the migrant workers who descend upon the area in a rhythm determined by the needs of the crops. Although not hostile to my presence, these signs would scarcely be affordances for me even had my fifth-grade Spanish not decomposed so badly. On the road now, the experience of not being addressed seems to continue in a different way: most of the language I see embedded in the landscape takes the form of crop variety signs posted at the edges of the fields (both to promote seed brands and to remind growers, sprayers and other workers which fields were planted with what). More pointed are the no trespassing signs. These block my entrance into many off-road landscapes, marking private property as inviolable. What Kenneth Olwig writes of early modern Dutch landscape painting, including the Brueghel scene evoked by Ingold, is equally true of representations of the landscape of California today: ‘It was imbued with meanings, etched by custom in the land, that were at the heart of the major political, legal and cultural issues of the time’ (Olwig 1996, p. 635). Throughout the twentieth century and up to the present, the problem of labour in agricultural capitalism has been one of the defining issues of California politics, and of California landscapes (Mitchell 1996, 2012). Strictly bounded parcels of private property, in which owners or growers exercise absolute authority over who can be present and what those present are doing, have been the core infrastructural scaffolding for capital’s long-­running project of organizing the landscape for reliable profit. This is in marked contrast to the glorious custom of public footpaths in the UK. This Landschaft custom has literally underwritten and made possible some of Wylie’s (2002, 2005) most striking work on the South West Coast Path as well as on Glastonbury Tor. Generally speaking, the experience of landscapes in the UK, while still patterned fundamentally by property-based exclusions, thus involves a mitigating dimension of invitation and hospitality lacking in many other parts of the world. Working people More than any other feature of the landscape, the golden corn gathers the lives of its inhabitants, wherever they may be, into temporal unison, founded upon the communion of visual experience. Thus whereas the tree binds past, present and future in a single place, the corn binds every place in the landscape within the single horizon of the present (Ingold 1993, p. 168). What you hear is a taskscape. In the performance of their particular tasks, people are responsive not only to the cycle of maturation of the crop, which draws them together in the overall project of harvesting, but also to each other’s activities as these are apportioned by the division of labour … (Ingold 1993, p. 170) © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 245 MATTHEW G. HANNAH Having pulled off briefly onto a dusty side-road, I try to project my imagination, from a point level with the nearest no trespassing sign, into the distant reaches of a citrus orchard. I imagine that it would be disorienting to experience every view therein at the crossroads of two long, straight alleys of trees. Each crossroads would on the one hand seem to focus the entire plantation on the viewer, but this conceit would be ruined immediately by the very repetitive indistinguishability of each from every other such junction. This endlessly identical illusion of centrality can still be seen as a parable for the production of human subjectivity under capitalism, however many things the more privileged among us might do with our lemons in the process of inventing ourselves as unique (see Read 2003). Despite my lack of physical access, I drive slowly enough along the side of a great plantation to peer quickly down each row. The sudden opening up of each long vista solicits my gaze very strongly. But it reveals no workers that I can see (in addition to making my neck sore in the almost “digital” rhythm of keeping an eye on the road while turning quickly to look down each alley of trees). As Don Mitchell (2012, p. 46) explains, the rhythms demanded by many of the crops of California’s gigantic industrial agricultural system pose complex logistical problems of coordination: Unlike many other forms of commodity production, crop production is highly temporally uneven – as growers across the state never tire of asserting … [L]abor demands during the growing season are often slight … By contrast, harvest periods are often short and intense, demanding large inputs of labor. Importantly, different crops have different maturation periods, harvest lengths, and harvest intensities. Therefore, the degree and scale of monocropping in a region (and across regions) … will be a crucial determinant of labor demand and labor circulation in the landscape. Mid-summer in a citrus orchard is thus chiefly a time when the stationary army of thousands of genetically identical trees are doing all the work. Labour is absent as living labour, but still present as “living dead” labour in the form of plants: now, as in the early twentieth century, ‘[t]he pattern and color of the California landscape are mortgaged on the backs of an endless stream of workers’ (Mitchell 1996, p. 15). 246 Even at times of year when the large workforce is present, the aggressively signed private property regime repulses direct attention to the details of the processes through which the landscape is produced (see Mitchell 1996). The barring or withholdance of embodied attention from spaces of capitalist production can be seen as the complement or counterpart to the ceaseless clamour for attention more typical of spaces of consumption: both together institute a comprehensive selectivity of our engagement that powerfully undergirds the naturalization of capitalist landscapes. Centrality and orientation The tower indexes a visible spectacle, yet it also performs the work of gathering which the very idea of a “spectacle” pre-supposes. To see it is to be pulled toward it, to feel that one has entered a landscape that coheres of itself, to be drawn into a pattern of activities and postures. The landscape sweeps towards the tower, revolves around it, and a destination has emerged, the terminus of an intention one is carried upon (Wylie 2002, p. 448). Rising from the spot where people are gathered for their repast is an old and gnarled pear-tree, which provides them with both shade from the sun, a back-rest, and a prop for utensils … But this is not just any tree. For one thing, it draws the entire landscape around it into a unique focus: in other words, by its presence it constitutes a particular place. The place was not there before the tree, but came into being with it. And for those who are gathered there, the prospect it affords, which is to be had nowhere else, is what gives it its particular character and identity (Ingold 1993, p. 167). Back out on Highway 99 North, the only centring feature of the landscape for many miles is the road itself, which runs arrow-straight, paralleled by railroad tracks. Many of the surrounding fields are low crops, leaving unimpeded views of the vast distance ahead. Mono-cropping does not seem to be the rule here, despite the huge size of the individual fields. The dirt lanes segmenting the fields, and the crops themselves, run true to the cardinal compass directions, so the NNW angling the highway takes for a few miles means that when there are orchards on each side, my gaze can move down the arborial © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography ATTENTION AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL POLITICS OF LANDSCAPE alleys without a full 90-degree twist of the neck. The highway then turns due north, though, towards Delano, and my neck is called back to more strenuous duty. Every few miles a warehouse or processing centre punctuates the flat, dusty progress of the road, some buzzing with the arrival and departure of eighteen-wheelers, others quiet and seemingly deserted, doubtless following the staggered rhythms noted by Mitchell. The elephant in the room Yet somehow the Tor contrives to lose itself amongst these skirting folds. As Ashe (1979, p. 12) says, ‘optically speaking, the landscape does not make sense. It is a monstrous refraction. The Tor, so obvious for so many miles, vanishes in the town and hides behind objects far too small to conceal it’ (Wylie 2002, p. 448). Eventually I pull into Delano, California, where the Holiday Inn Express offers the comfort of standardized hospitality to strangers like me. Delano is steeped in the history of industrial agriculture. There is a César Chávez Park downtown, and the Yellow Pages are full of fruit and vegetable companies, agricultural labour contractors and equipment suppliers. My eyes are tired from the glare of a Central Valley summer day, despite the sunglasses, and from the effort of keeping up with the angled vistas snapping into and out of view along the drive from Bakersfield. My shirt and hair are dusty from the few times I opened the window or stepped outside. The landscapes between Bakersfield and Delano, wide open though they often look, comprise a distribution of the sensible, an arrangement of spaces, times and activities, that feels above all indifferent to my traverse. The only thing I felt “invited” to do was to keep driving through it. Anything else I attempted bumped up against a lack of affordances geared to my needs and interests, or against outright prohibition of access. This landscape doesn’t need me, in contrast to agricultural workers, whom it confronts with sharp, juddering rhythms of invitation and (minimal) accommodation, the requirement of disciplined attention to the relentless demands of harvesting machinery, then summary ejection back out onto a new migration as soon as they have “saved the crops”. My embodied attention is not required as a labourer, and scarcely even as a tourist, for this is an economy not strongly dependent on the local image it gives of its productive places. The vistas along the highway may be attractive in the sense that some people find techno beat compelling: hardedged rhythms distinctive mainly for their relentless monotony. Precisely this kind of firm structure may be just the beat on which to hang reveries of all sorts. As someone who made the trip in order to attend to my own paying of attention, though, I found it difficult to stick to the task. The pace of solicitation coming at me was either too slow or, punctually, too fast, unlike the more continually shifting, measured pace of change Wylie reports in his account of the drive to Glastonbury Tor. Tentative and brief though this imagined trip has been, it at least suggests a way for those of us not involved in the sort of intense and life-­threatening class struggles lived by agricultural workers to recognize the pulse of a capitalist productive landscape. It is an indifferent landscape neither put there nor operated in a way that seeks to meet the needs and capabilities of individual human bodies passing through. It is not easy to attend to, because it is not meant to be attended to by non-participants. The attempt nevertheless to attend to its affordances revealed that little is afforded to, and much is withheld from, someone in my position, apart from the ease of passage through the landscape. Perhaps most fundamentally, the struggle to attend to it, the attempt to see into distances or move into spaces other than those offered by the road itself, accentuates the impression of solidity and permanence. In my halting efforts to pay what Waldenfels terms “secondary” or momentary attention it became clear that the landscape’s distribution of the sensible made it hard to establish the prerequisite for this, a primary field of possibility in which attention could move. One could try to make a primary attentional field possible by slowing down, pulling off into a side road and stopping, as I did a few times. But because of the size of the fields and the general absence of variety in landscape features available from any one spot, this solution wasn’t a solution at all: to the extent that I could stabilize a point of view giving me time to attend more deliberately, the range of matters to attend to diminished. The range of affordances, such as it was, was in any case not directed to someone in my “third party” position. I could either have an attentional field appropriate to my embodied capabilities, or I could have a variety of things to attend to looming jaggedly into and out of a field kept shredded by speed. Unable to establish this field in the face of inhuman rhythms, I could hardly help but naturalize this capitalist landscape © The author 2013 Geografiska Annaler: Series B © 2013 Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography 247 MATTHEW G. HANNAH even more deeply as something entirely independent of the perceiver. The fact that we cannot attend to all aspects of even the most hospitable surroundings at once already tends to fetishize those surroundings; if on top of that there is little ambient invitation, this effect is only accentuated. There is, in other words, a directional aspect to landscape (and other kinds of) fetishism, one that can reinforce the qualitative problem of mis-recognizing dead labour (Kirsch and Mitchell 2004). Conclusions The red thread running through the entire discussion is a repeated insistence on the directional selectivity of active attention and thus on a political conception centred upon the question of what it is that we turn our attention towards and away from, as well as who or what it is that determines this turning. It is a question of attention as a fundamental and ineluctable dimension of performance, one that explains quite straightforwardly an important but hitherto little remarked way in which performance stabilizes the world. It does so because even in the most sustained and intense critical focus on matters at hand, our attentionality always means we must leave most things unattended. Thus, for example, the reproduction of structures does not depend generally upon agents acting as “dupes”, nor merely upon so-called unintended consequences of action (Giddens 1979), but rather quite simply upon the fact that our directional paying of potentially critical attention can only ever be selective. To adapt Waldenfels’s elegant phrase, there is always a ‘Yes inherent in the No’ (Waldenfels 2004, pp. 273–274). The thought-experiment at the end had a more modest illustrative goal, namely to suggest the ways in which the political effects of produced landscapes also involve the co-creation of embodied experiences that contribute in a different way to naturalizing the scenes of capitalism. There is a phenomenological path to a critical awareness of inhumane aspects of life in capitalist societies, a path that moves, first, by examining how the inherent selectivity of our attention is addressed, ignored, manipulated, or channelled, and second, by reflecting upon the extent to which the range of affordances offered to or absent from the immersed experience of landscape matches at all with the embodied capabilities or needs of human beings. This is but one area of human geographic research in which a more direct and sustained “turn” to the issue of attention is overdue. 248 Acknowledgements This article is dedicated to the memory of Heiko Schmid (1972–2013). The author would like to thank Don Mitchell for the invitation to participate in the Symposium out of which this article grew, and Tomas Germundsson and Tom Mels for shepherding it through the editorial process. Don Mitchell, Ken Olwig, Bernd Belina and Tomas Germundsson all offered useful comments, encouragement and/or critical questions. Tom Mels made some keen observations and suggested crucial additional sources. John Wylie provided a discerning and insightful commentary. Audiences at Swansea University and Goethe-Universität Frankfurt made helpful comments on earlier, very different versions of the argument, as did reviewers of an earlier written version of this article. All errors are mine. Notes 1. This and all other passages from Waldenfels (2004) and Franck (1998, 2005) translated from the German by the author. 2. As will be explained below, attentionality needs to be carefully distinguished from another, closely related anthropological feature identified and explored by phenomenologists: intentionality, the fact that consciousness is always ‘a consciousness of something’ (Husserl [1931] 2012, p. 67, italics in the original). Phenomenologists have argued persuasively that intentionality is a more basic phenomenon, and attention a modality of it. However, in the flow of practice and in the understanding of power relations, I will argue that attentionality is actually the more important issue. 3. Ingold’s and Wylie’s ways of understanding landscape are not identical. In particular, Wylie has advocated what he terms a “postphenomenological” radicalization of some hypotheses of the late Merleau-Ponty (Anderson and Wylie 2009). These hypotheses purport to de-centre the phenomenological “subject” to such an extent that there is no longer an identifiable perspective for vision (and other embodied modalities). Whatever the fortunes of this notion, in practice Wylie continues to perform and write landscape encounters with an unusual skill for phenomenological evocation shared by Ingold. It is this common talent for evocative description that licenses my lumping these two scholars together. 4. The work of Peter Merriman (2006) on landscape architecture and British motorways shows that we should not take the “sleepy” rural landscapes of the UK as they unfold before Wylie’s gaze as completely untouched by deliberate planning considerations. Matthew G. 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