Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Scales of Justice Tilt for Thee . . . Or, the Right Right for the Left


I have a really hard time understanding conservatives. And not in a “how could they possibly believe that” sort of way. I mean that I have a hard time generally just following their line of thought. It must have something to do with the venue: National Review and other partisan outlets, such as FOX News, are mostly writing to themselves. They service an increasingly restricted demographic—their audience is shrinking—and as a result they can assume that their audience already knows the game. I like to imagine it’s a bit like people who are really into curling. To them it’s grand strategy; to me, it’s just some guys huddling around a rock on the ice.

The problem, as I see it, is that while they’re talking to themselves, they’re not talking to anybody else. Their ideas get lost in self-referential jargon and inside jokes. To insiders, it makes those ideas more accessible and helps foster an environment of exclusion: like culture broadly speaking, it helps distinguish “us” from “them.” But it quickly starts sounding as though you’re preaching to the converted; without external references, ideas get trapped in a feedback loop. Fundamentally what this means is that those inside the loop lose perspective.

It’s the same with liberals, of course. The Right has no monopoly on self-referential ideology. But as the United States moves farther to the left, it has embraced a form of liberalism that advances a notion of just behind what John Rawls referred to as the veil of ignorance—that we should all be treated equally before the law. Behind that veil, people are treated as individuals absent race, gender, sexual orientation, income, or what have you.

To conservatives, this perspective is patently absurd. Justice, in their sense, is a function of divine order: the world is naturally arranged so that certain people assume authority, be they kings, priests, generals, or fathers. To be virtuous, one had to rely on strict adherence to those hierarchies. A son had a duty to a father, whose duty was also to the church and state. Liberalism inverts that order, placing the duty on the state to the individual, famously in the idea of a blindfolded goddess balancing the scales of justice. The point is that she doesn’t know who is on either side: a gay man, a black teen, or the state.

Of course, as citizens we do have obligations to the state and to society generally. Conservatives are not wrong in that sense. Our democracy only works when each citizen is engaged in the body politic through voting (at the very least), expressing their opinions to elected representatives, and observing duties to their fellow citizen, among so many other obligations. The reason that Rousseau thought democracies could only work in small countries was because people were geographically close enough to talk to one another. So while chatting isn’t exactly a panacea, it would certainly go a long ways toward alleviating many of the difficulties liberals and conservatives are having getting their point across.

When you say it like that, of course, it sounds silly. Even trite. But it requires the moral courage to assume that your interlocutor is capable of kindness and charity, and then the far more difficult task of extending those virtues yourself.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

The Watchers Watch with Increasing Watchfulness . . . Or, Why Google Glass Offends Me

Not so long ago, a guy came into my work wearing Google Glass.  (Or, as the convention should go, glasses.)  I responded . . . poorly.

It's hard to think of yourself as a person who would become affronted by the mere existence of an otherwise not-that-consequential a thing.  In fact, it's weird thinking that I'd ever dislike Google Glass.  It seems like something that the sci-fi nerd in me would love.

I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation as a kid, and was really in awe of Geordi's visor.  I thought it would be cool to have access to all those parts of the electromagnetic spectrum that the human eye simply didn't evolve a need to see.

The idea of recording everything you saw had a kind of voyeuristic thrill to it as well.  The beauty of a sunset was something that should be captured instantly; recording everything made recalling everything a snap; I believed that this kind of access would fundamentally improve lives in a still-as-yet-undefined way.

But when Google Glass actually entered my life, I was incensed.  "Is that on?" I demanded.  The wearer, to my chagrin, answered me literally.  "Yes."  And I was off.  "You have no right, it's an affront, an invasion, blah blah blah."

The thing is, being on and recording are two different modes of operation for Google Glass.  Yeah, it was powered on and he could access information and the like, but it wasn't recording.  Apparently in a nod to Star Trek (I opine), you have to tell it turn on.  "Ok, Glass, record a video." 

So this poor fellow was not recording anything, as much as my tablet, or some random stranger's iPhone was not recording video, though it has that capability.

Glass, however, is a third eye that is forever looking out at the world, and the uncertainty of whether or not that eye was watching me left me uneasy.

This, I think, is a subject worth pondering.  If the eye remains unseen, do we care that it's watching?  Certainly, the revelations by Edward Snowden have revealed the unseen watcher watching with increasing watchfulness (say that five times fast).  As American's (and differently-nationed citizens) grapple with that realization, the way in which they mediate their own lives also changes.

That, I think, is what offended me so much about Google Glass.

For a moment, let's consider that we are all mediated selves.  That is, we understand our place in the world through our relationships with other people; we moderate our behavior to conform to social and cultural expectations.  Our actions are mediated by how others perceive them.

Yet, we are also mediated by how we present ourselves to the world.  Facebook and other social media allows us to edit ourselves -- to self-photoshop (metaphorically, but also literally) -- and though we can argue the fundamental philosophical implications, that mediation is under our control.

Google Glass eliminates that control.  We no longer mediate ourselves as much as we are caught on camera unmediated.

The worst part of talking heads and the political echo chamber of the cable news cycle is that they so often take things out of context, or fail to treat the subject with humility or compassion.  People misspeak.  They sometimes speak out of ignorance.  Or they have been purposefully misquoted.  In effect, they are mediated by others without their consent.  Google Glass highlights many more ways that can happen.

And frankly, I have the right to mediate myself however I choose.  I may want every action caught on camera -- the wit with the wisdom with all the flatulence in between.  But I may not.  I have the right to be treated with compassion and humility.  We all do.  Part of what erodes that compassion is the increasingly sophisticated surveillance with which we have to contend.

The watcher may watch with increasing watchfulness, but the effect of being watched is to lose part of our own souls.  That's why I don't like Google Glass.

Monday, November 4, 2013

The Power of Three . . . Or, NaNoWriMo!

It's November, and you know what that means! 

National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo is in full swing.  NaNoWriMo began somewhat innocuously in the late 90s or very early 2000s (if my memory hasn't failed me).  Back in the day, the whole point was just to write 50,000 words (or so I recall).  Nowadays, the point of this whole endeavor is to write an entire novel from start to finish in a month.

At the very least, it get you in your chair writing; best case scenario, you finish the month with something you can sell.  More likely, you'll have something tangible to get editing -- and that's nothing to sneeze at. 

I was working on something fairly pompous in 2001 and decided that I would just use NaNoWriMo to work further aggrandize that pomposity. 

Since then, I've participated in NaNoWriMo two more times.  Each time, I used it to work on something already in progress. Each of those works were long and complicated.  Also, something like 2/3 didn't reach the end.

So this year I decided I would sit down and write a book from start to finish.  It wasn't going to be bold, or complex, or difficult.  It would be a little plot heavy.  And it would be between 50,000 and 65,000 words.  Also, aside from a pretty intimate understanding of the three-act structure, I have no idea what the plot even is. 

So far, a C-130 has been shot down, terrorists are running around Oregon backwoods, and our hero has undertaken to protect a young woman who may hold the secret of humanity's destiny.  (Superficially, it reminds me of The Fifth Element.  A movie that came out right around the time I was introduced to NaNoWriMo.  Coincidence?)

I'm pretty sure there's going to be a shadowy government agency, kung-fu, a Shakespeare spouting hero, and possible space travel.  So, you know, the usual.

If you're participating, let me know how it's going in the comments.

Also, click HERE for a story about how NaNoWriMo actually started.
 




Monday, October 28, 2013

The Human Journey Is Just Beginning . . . Or, Watching Star Trek: The Motion Picture With My Girlfriend

For my birthday, my girlfriend got me the Blu-Ray collection of the first six Star Trek films.  And then, just to prove that she loves me, she watched the Motion Picture with me.  All the way through.  And only fell asleep once.

That's a pretty big deal.  The most she knows of Star Trek is that 'splosion-laden parody from J.J. Abrams.  See, back in the late 70s, science fiction wasn't exactly a big property.  2001: A Space Odyssey had come out in 1968.  Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece set both the mood and tone in science fiction for the next decade.  The story was intellectual and dense; the plot was nearly incomprehensible on the first screening (and second, third, and fourth), and matched outstanding acting and exquisite modeling with a breathtaking musical score.

Then Star Wars: A New Hope happened.  It fundamentally altered the viewing public's perception of what a movie could be, and how science fiction ought to be presented.  But Star Wars isn't really science fiction.  Sure, most of the story happens in space but for all it's vacuum bona fides, the technology and plot are purely fantastical.

Sure -- most of the time we lump science fiction and fantasy together (they even have a nifty moniker: SFF) but the two are fundamentally different genres that happen to share a common origin.  But while fantasy hints that the universe is inherently inexplicable, science fiction examines the ways in which the universe can be understood.  Where they overlap is their reliance on knowledge.

In fantasy, that knowledge is arcane and restricted through either initiation or fortune to a select few.  Science fiction revels in the fact that with a little hard work the universe can be understood by everyone.  And in the fiction of SF, the reader himself is the initiate.

Back to Star Trek: The Motion Picture.  After Star Wars shattered just about every record ever, executives at Paramount Studios needed something spacey.  They already had Star Trek, and were working on a new television series, called Phase II, and spurred by the dedicated activism of fans.

The Motion Picture is something really special, encapsulating Gene Roddenberry's truly novel future within the framework of a genuinely compelling science fiction story.  The plot is simple enough: a vast, incomprehensible alien entity of unimaginable power and destructive capability is on a straight shot to Earth.  The U.S.S. Enterprise is the only starship within interception range.  Admiral/Captain Kirk and his crew head out to investigate, and hopefully turn it back.

If the movie had been shot today, the ending would be pretty simple.  After investigating the heretofore inscrutable, indefatigable, and indestructible thing they would have discovered a vital weakness and exploited it.  The movie would have ended with a vast fireball and Kirk high-fiving Spock on the bridge.

Except this was made back when movies weren't just Hollywood execs standing around in a circle-jerk.

The Motion Picture ends with discovery.  The entire movie is an extended meditation on the meaning of life (highlighted by a five-minute overture that would have left audiences isolated in the womb-like darkness of a movie theater) so it is appropriate that the final epigram announces "The Human journey is just beginning." It ends with a moment of reflection on what it means to be human.

Phase II Enterprise
But this first film is more than simply good science fiction; it's the most realized vision of the future in any of the Star Trek films.  Gene Roddenberry's utopian vision is reflected best here by allowing audiences to really see the future.  We see civilians, contractors, a dynamic range of social and sexual mores, the reality of space travel, and the inherent dangers associated with any technology.

One of the truly visceral moments of peril is when a transporter malfunction scrambles two people in mid-transport.  Ostensibly, this is to give both Spock and McCoy a plausible excuse to rejoin the crew of the Enterprise, but it does double-duty and elaborates the dangers of simply existing while illuminating Kirk's character.  When we see the restrained grief, and the terse consolation of the transporter tech, we are reminded that with authority comes responsibility and know that these deaths will weigh on Kirk.  But as important, he'll push on and accomplish the mission. 

Watching this movie with my uninitiated girlfriend brought out something else.  At one point, she commented that she would like to be friends with Spock.  Besides being incredibly cute, it reminded me that these characters feel real.  I would never want to hang out with any of the characters in Abrams's Star Trek (except possibly Scotty, but that's just because I think we could go find Nick Frost and grab a pint). But in The Motion Picture, these people all feel incredibly real, and more importantly, their relationships feel like more than reflexive tropes satirizing archetypes. 

Which is just to say that while Abrams's films are entertaining -- with their running, running, 'splosions, angst, faux pseudoscience, 'splosions and more 'splosions -- they are neither fantastical nor science fictional.  They don't elaborate on friendship, duty, compassion, or the search for meaning.  And beating the bad guy literally means beating the bad guy.  They're shallow romps.

The Motion Picture offers -- in fact it practically invites -- a second viewing.  It's almost certain that it will reward the effort.  Its intellectual precursor 2001 suggests a second watching, but is less successful than The Motion Picture.  For these reasons and more you should give it a chance this weekend, sit down with a beer, and really dive into the best of all Star Trek films. 


Monday, October 21, 2013

Where Do Babies Come From? . . . Or, Sexism And Women In Fantasy

A lot of electrons have been spilled recently about the presence (or lack thereof) and roles of women in fantasy stories.  Both The Mary Sue and Tansy Roberts have weighed in on the supposed historical justification of sexism in the fantasy genre, and each author makes compelling arguments.  Basically, it goes that women throughout history have played vital roles and pursued all sorts of careers so it makes little sense to indulge historically inaccurate portrayals of women in fantasy stories.

Roberts's critique of The Mary Sue is spot on:
"History is not a long series of centuries in which men did all the interesting/important things and women stayed home and twiddled their thumbs in between pushing out babies, making soup and dying in childbirth.

History is actually a long series of centuries of men writing down what they thought was important and interesting, and FORGETTING TO WRITE ABOUT WOMEN. It’s also a long series of centuries of women’s work and women’s writing being actively denigrated by men. Writings were destroyed, contributions were downplayed, and women were actively oppressed against, absolutely."
Her point is absolutely right, but then she moves to identify the two main tropes in fantasy as military/warfare and politics.  Magic is identified as a strong third, and links these to male dominance in historical reporting.  Ignoring the role that women played in war and politics, however, is a willful ignorance on the part of ancient reporters, and continues to be so in the fantasy genre.
"When it comes to politics, I’m sorry, but there are no excuses. Sure, women have been excluded from the public political process for large swathes of history and culture (except, you know, when they weren’t—even the supreme patriarchy that was Rome didn’t have complete control over the provinces, where female politicians and civil servants sprung up like weeds) but public is only one piece of politics. The Mary Sue article refers substantially to Game of Thrones, and that’s a very good example, but again you can look to history—as soon as there is any form of dynastic element to your politics, then women are IMPORTANT. Even when the political careers are solely male, those men have wives and families who have a stake in the proceedings and the outcomes, they have risks to take and campaigns to wage every bit as much as the men. And if the women’s politics are happening in salons rather than assembly halls… maybe you should be peeking into those salons. I can guarantee political DYNAMITE is going on in there. With finger sandwiches and mint tea? Why not?"
Okay, that makes a bit of sense.  But here's where I digress.  Historically inspired stories, like the fantastically successful Game of Thrones mentioned above, replicate stereotypes and inadequately populate fantastical worlds with shallow or fulsome representations of human activity.

I don't really want to engage the staggering sexism in fantasy except to make a more general point: historically inspired fantasy is boring.  Don't get me wrong, history is chock full of great stories, and they're perfect jumping off points for a couple dozen novels.  But historically flavored novels that simply replace the Lancasters with the Lannisters and England for Westeros (but what if St. George really did kill a dragon?) is about as interesting as sitting in traffic.

I suspect that my distaste for George Martin's novels stems from its conscious departure from fantasy tropes; instead of dealing with heroes and magic, his world is ours, though dimly glimpsed.  Essentially, it's bad fantasy and boring history, yet readers mistake it for verisimilitude the way a man dying of thirst will mistake a mirage for an oasis in the desert.

So thinking about fantasy as somehow a historical representation misses the point entirely.  Literature in all its guises is about human behavior.  Science fiction and fantasy offer wonder, but they also allow us to examine our present and speculate about our future.  Political worries, cultural values, dominant hierarchies are all reflected in fantasy and reveal a glimpse of the zeitgeist.  That is their power.

Science fiction excels by extrapolating human achievements to their logical end.  Fantasy can do the same by extrapolating human activity in settings beyond the mundane.  J.R.R. Tolkien reproduced the Earthly milieu consciously.  Writers following in that vein from Robert Jordan to Terry Brooks continued that trend with greater or lesser success.  Where G.R.R. Martin succeeds is creating a world disengaged from the environment of evolutionary adaptation -- though by failing to follow his worldbuilding to a logical end it quickly reveals its shaky foundations.  Brandon Sanderson's Way of Kings successfully disengages from a historical model by creating whole-cloth both a world and its inhabitants.

Marie Antoinette
None of these authors engage the elephant in the fantastical room, however.  Why there are human beings more or less indistinguishable from the reader is never addressed.  Indeed, it remains such a persistent trope that it is rarely considered.  C.S. Friedman's Coldfire Trilogy successfully tackles the trope by wrapping it science fiction -- the human beings in her story are the descendants of human colonists on an alien world (where physics is kind of wonky -- a concession to the genre which corresponds well enough with what we know of science).

Regardless, instead of confronting sexism in the genre, commentators like Tansy Roberts should instead engage sexism in our own culture (and in our authors), and recast the mirror which reflects it.  And calling your empire

Friday, October 18, 2013

When Dominant Culture Doesn't Dominate . . . Or, Cosplay, Geek Culture, and Bourgeois Culture

It's pretty self-explanatory
By Steven McLain

In the 1940s, Stetson Kennedy undertook an anti-racism campaign premised on a simple idea.  Whenever someone heard bigoted speech, that person should frown.  It's brilliant in its simplicity, and highlights the power of ostracism and social acceptance as a means of change.  Stetson was a landmark figure in the struggle against Jim Crow laws, and his bravery in infiltrating and revealing the secret rituals and codewords of the Ku Klux Klan seriously undermined that organization.

After infiltrating the KKK he filtered their secrets to the Superman radio drama, when engaged the popular icon in a fight against bigotry and exposed the organization to its own farce. 

Seriously, how cool a name is Stetson?
Kennedy died in 2011, but both his infiltration of the KKK and his "Frown Campaign" are useful in analyzing the power and delineations of culture.  These in turn can help us identify when and where certain cultures exist, when they have been appropriated, and when they have willingly submerged themselves into the bourgeois culture.

I'd like to make a couple of definitions clear from the outset, since I'll be using them in somewhat esoteric ways (which also differ from social scientists' and semiologists' definition).  First, let's acknowledge that culture is a tough thing to define, since it is inherently nebulous.  But if you can't define what exactly culture is, you can at least define its function.

For the sake of this argument, culture consists of the transmittable values and practices which signify inclusion in a group.  Basically, culture delineates "us" from "them" and includes language (including jargon, accent, patois, etc.), styles of clothing, taboos, rituals, and meaning attached to specific markers (such as flags, buttons, logos, brands, etc.).  You're probably not aware of these things until you enter a different culture, but it's abundantly clear when someone doesn't belong to your culture by the way they walk, talk, or dress.

Kennedy (and Martin Luther King, Jr. incidentally) believed that the bulk of people were good, and could challenge bigoted attitudes by expressing their disdain.  Frowning was a way to demonstrate disapproval, and subtly alter perceptions.  But it relied on a shift in the bourgeois culture so that bigotry was a cultural distinction.  In a sense, bigotry alienated you from bourgeois culture.

Now, generally when we talk about culture, we use hierarchical words of dominance and submission which disguises the real nature of culture as a progressive continuum.  That is, while there are major and minor cultures, one need not inhabit one or the other; indeed, one can occupy multiple cultures at the same time (and probably does).  Instead of dominant or submissive cultures (sub-cultures as they're often called), bourgeois culture reflects the idea that communities often embrace a single, overarching culture under which multiple, fluid identities can emerge and flourish.

When Martin Luther King identified racism, poverty, and militarism as evils, it was precisely because they dehumanized individuals as means to an end, or by obscuring their humanity by overlooking their individuality, or through bigotry.

King said of poverty:
“There is nothing new about poverty. What is new, however, is that we now have the resources to get rid of it. The time has come for an all-out world war against poverty … The well off and the secure have too often become indifferent and oblivious to the poverty and deprivation in their midst. Ultimately a great nation is a compassionate nation. No individual or nation can be great if it does not have a concern for ‘the least of these.”
 And racism:
“Racism is a philosophy based on a contempt for life. It is the arrogant assertion that one race is the center of value and object of devotion, before which other races must kneel in submission. It is the absurd dogma that one race is responsible for all the progress of history and alone can assure the progress of the future. Racism is total estrangement. It separates not only bodies, but minds and spirits. Inevitably it descends to inflicting spiritual and physical homicide upon the out-group.”
And militarism:
“A true revolution of values will lay hands on the world order and say of war- ‘This way of settling differences is not just.’ This way of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation’s homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”
MLK
But if he were alive today, I have no doubt Martin Luther King would include consumerism on his list of modern evils right there with racism, poverty, and militarism.

Consumerism exists in that same spectrum of evil by reducing individuals to means of acquiring.  Rather than basing individual worth on the merit of being a human being, what you own determines your worth.  These aren't new criticisms, and shouldn't shock you, but take a moment to really consider what it means that bourgeois culture is also a consumer culture. 

The word "bourgeois" has a tortured history.  It initially indicated the French middle class which emerged between the aristocracy and peasants.  During the French Revolution it acquired a pejorative status which persisted into the nineteenth century, where it eventually acquired its labor implications.  Marx and Engels used bourgeois to signal the propertied owners of capital who alienated workers from their labor.  This is the meaning it largely kept through the mid-twentieth century, until it came to first signify the bureaucratic authority emerging in the Western world; finally it acquired a class signifier in the early twenty-first century and was appropriated by trend-setters and the petty intelligentsia when it was crafted into the patois.  "Bougie" became an indication of pedestrian pretension. 

An example from the Seattle Times helps emphasize that distinction:
“In an urban environment, in the elements, you want to feel protected,” says Gregg Andrews, fashion creative director at Nordstrom. “You don’t want to feel that you can’t walk on broken concrete. There’s this fashion utility to a boot that makes it very appealing.”

Plus, he says, “boots are sorta like sunglasses — they give you instant attitude . . . A woman could own an entire closet of boots that really would change the look of everything that’s in her wardrobe.”
We will mix and match so many shirts, sweaters, jackets and pants that they couldn’t possibly add up to a cohesive outfit, yet make it look fresh and “seasonless,” to borrow a term used to describe the direction in menswear for the coming year.

We will pair soft fabrics with the leather that will be everywhere this fall, wear white after Labor Day and shamelessly pile on two or three shades of the season’s go-to colors: green, blue and red. We will make tie-dye look bougie and make [ombrĆ©] look hippie." [emphasis my own]
Oh, those French
But despite definitional slippage, bourgeois maintains its connection to the middle class, to a system of virtue ethics firmly tied to a social and economic class.  The rise of the middle class is a historical phenomenon which pre-dates the industrial revolution.  It is tied to social movements even today, and indicates a broadening access to political and economic power.  The decline of the middle class is not a signifier of declining economic power per se, but rather points to gradual lessening of access to that power by the largest segment of nation's population.

That intersection creates a unique cultural imperative which includes and supersedes every other culture.  Bourgeois culture in America (and perhaps in most of the developed and emerging world) is associated almost entirely with consumerism.  Worth and value are predicated on one's ability to acquire and conspicuously consume.  These cultural assumptions are what underpin Apple's yearly unveiling of new and only slightly improved iPhones.  Fundamentally, the iPhone and the iPhone 5 are no different (let's not even mention the distinction between the S and C), and the iPhone itself represents only minor aesthetic improvements on pre-existing technology.

Rather, the acquisition and conspicuous consumption of these technology signify inclusion within a particular culture.  That the gold iPhone 5 is seen as a status symbol should surprise no one.  Rather, as an indication of the power of bourgeois culture, the iPhone is the most obvious example of one culture embraced and enfolded by bourgeois culture.

This is not a condemnation of either bourgeois culture, or any of the cultures which oppose or embrace it.  Indeed, many cultures are complementary, or even supplement, bourgeois culture.  Some cultures actively reject bourgeois culture and try to embrace self-sufficiency and autonomy, or see the obvious environmental damage our particular bourgeois culture causes and attempt to meliorate their own impact. 

Culture-jacking
Other cultures which began in conscious opposition to bourgeois culture lack the power or the organization to successfully reject it and either embrace or are co-opted by bourgeois culture.  Consumerism is such a prevalent and powerful force that the latter is more likely the case.  Bourgeois culture may colonize alien cultures and gradually incorporate them into itself, expressing alienness as novelty (culture-jacking, if you will) -- the Asian fetish of the early twentieth century and the television show "The Big Bang Theory" are equally representative of this phenomenon.

It's also what lends legitimacy to a particular culture.  Legitimate cultures consciously articulate a particular vision of the good life.  What that vision is remains irrelevant.  Rather, what is important is that a culture express that vision through its cultural markers.  Remember Kennedy and his frown campaign?  The power of bourgeois culture overruled deeply ingrained bigotry (along with the active participation of civil rights activists, legislators, and the oppressed themselves).  Kennedy was able to de-legitimize the KKK by exposing their secrets to ridicule.  Their cultural signifiers became markers of absurdity.

By appropriating those markers instead, the bourgeois culture maintains the sense of separateness while utilizing the power which separates culture to advance its own agenda.  Geek culture, which peaked in the 80s and early 90s, offered a significantly peculiar version of the good life to differentiate it from bourgeois culture of the time.

Highlighted by a preoccupation with science and technology, geek culture presented furthering of knowledge as an end to itself.  Geek culture embraced the rational enlightenment virtues of previous generations and molded it with a fascination of technology.  The result was a vision in which science and technology were lauded for their own sake, and elevated what bourgeois culture considered hobbies to ends of themselves.  Geek culture appropriated the mode of bourgeois culture as the means for its own ends; this appropriation both legitimized and enabled geek cultures to oppose bourgeois culture.

By Ibrahim Evsan
But by the early twenty-first century, bourgeois culture responded by re-appropriating the symbols of geek culture into itself.  The pre-eminent example is the colonization of Comic-Con by a consumer culture marked by conspicuous consumption and acquisition as a determination of worth.  And we should be clear that legitimation is not itself a moral judgement, but rather a statement of definition.  That is, to be legitimate, a culture must correspond itself to a peculiar vision of the good life which differs from another culture.

Indeed, the simple proliferation of Comic-Cons (San Diego, New York, Portland, OR, etc.) are not indicative of the power of a particular culture, but rather representative of the appropriation of geek culture to bourgeois culture.  Geek culture may persist, but incoherently.   

Legitimization is both a strategy and goal of bourgeois culture.  As a strategy, it allows bourgeois culture to colonize peculiar cultures.  This is also why I suspect that cosplay is itself not a legitimate culture.  Emerging from both geek and nerd culture (historically an offshoot of Renaissance Fairs and, I imagine, the costuming impulses of Halloween) it allows both men and women an opportunity to assume alternate and deviate identities.

Though I can't speak to motivations, and while much of it seems like a harmless vacation from the self, cosplayers such as Ani Mia, Jenni Hashimoto (who was featured in a Business Insider expose of the New York Comic-Con) and other members of that community who peddle their wares (as it were) on the internet or on cable reality television (such as The SyFy Channel's "Heroes of Cosplay") have either consciously adopted bourgeois culture, or been appropriated by it.  Failing to cogently express a vision of the good life, and adopting the vision of a competing culture reveals their complicity in delegitimizing their peculiar culture.

The "Fake Geek Girl" controversy raging throughout the interwebs is a clear indication that geek communities understand that their culture is being appropriated.  Alice Vega, a geek commentator, offers a few words of live-and-let-live that hints at libertarian moral laissez faire but fails to recognize the invidiousness of these cultural appropriations.
"First off, a Fake Geek Girl is defined as a female of any age faking it in the geek culture, i.e. cosplaying characters she doesn’t know, saying she’s a gamer but has never touched a Playstation, etc. You might have seen some of these girls or know some yourself. But here’s a newsflash: Who the fuck cares?"
Vampirella at Rose City Comicon
Her rant betrays her naivety.  "Heroes of Cosplay" may indeed introduce outsiders to a niche hobby, and may help inspire new fans to go out and indulge their self-obscuring fantasies.  And "fake geek girls" may indeed by culture-jacking geek culture as a means to garner attention, or they may be intentionally sexualizing themselves as a means of re-appropriating their sexuality from a dominance culture they navigate at their own peril.  What commentators like Vega and the geek community in general fail to understand, however, is that they are willing participants in their own appropriation.

So while the libertarian in me is crying "no harm no foul," the better part of my nature is worrying that people are building castles in the air and failing to address the real problem.  As a self-identified geek I understand the frustration of the community, but want to point out that it's already too late.  Unless we can re-craft a peculiar vision of the good life, bourgeois culture will always win.