A brief history of time management -- Executive athleticism : time management and the quest for organization -- The aesthetics of activity : productivity and the order of things -- Mindful labor
As online distractions increasingly colonize our time, why has productivity become such a vital demonstration of personal and professional competence? When corporate profits are soaring but worker salaries remain stagnant, how does technology exacerbate the demand for ever greater productivity? In Counterproductive Melissa Gregg explores how productivity emerged as a way of thinking about job performance at the turn of the last century and why it remains prominent in the different work worlds of today. Examining historical and archival material alongside popular self-help genres--from housekeeping manuals to bootstrapping business gurus, and the growing interest in productivity and mindfulness software--Gregg shows how a focus on productivity isolates workers from one another and erases their collective efforts to define work limits. Questioning our faith in productivity as the ultimate measure of success, Gregg's novel analysis conveys the futility, pointlessness, and danger of seeking time management as a salve for the always-on workplace.
An affective dimension is often at work in constructions of political 'reality'. Such a recognition might be seen to reinforce the value of certain legacies in cultural studies, particularly the role of articulation in public debate, and the renewed importance of such work in framing responses to volatile issues like the mandatory detention of asylum seekers. Revisiting the work of Stuart Hall on Thatcherism, and taking note of Judith Brett's recent history of the Australian Liberal Party, I want to contemplate the prominent role language plays in political life, and, alongside Watson and others, question the priority the Left accords this key element of contemporary politics. In doing so, I use Hall as an example of what might be called scholarly affect: a voice of intervention that catalyses the Left in moments of crisis, and a voice that deploys cultural theory to make sense of concrete political problems.
This article considers the benefits a cultural studies perspective can offer debates around rural and regional telecommunications provision. It begins with a critique of the metrocentrism dominant in recent scholarship of new media, arguing that academic, business and government discourses share progressivist assumptions in equating online connectivity with freedom. It highlights how the gap between the promotion of connectivity and actually existing infrastructure leads to an ontological resilience among rural residents who 'make do' with deferred promises of community and participation. The relationship this bears to the political subjectivities described in recent queer theory is briefly explored. The article develops to suggest that a parachute model of policy consultation privileges those in rural communities with the social and cultural capital to advance established interests – leaving the everyday lives of the majority of residents unrecognised. In encouraging ethnographic studies of technology use that spend time in rural locations, the paper concludes that the different priorities that drive country life – the prominence of environmental concerns, the importance of civic institutions, and above all, distance from the temporalities that dictate the terms for assessing political participation – offer important correctives to the ideologies of individualism and innovation that drive new media consumption.
The rhythms of war and popular culture intermingle, amplify each other and become expressive. At the leading edge of the US military's war machine assemblage, as the nation of Iraq is deterritorialised from the despotic signifier 'Saddam Hussein', the soldiers' music consolidates a milieu of the battlefield. It also consolidates a space-time of the here-now with something less horrific. The popular music refrain produces a home away from home. In their patriotism, many of these singer–soldiers see a religious act. When someone is saying 'God is on our side' they are no longer talking about the nation-based context for which, whatever the rules of war might be, such rules are relevant. They're talking about a Holy War. It has different rules. How to hold them to any actual account is the difficulty we seek to explore here.