Theories of the Information Society, Third Edition - Cryptome

INFORMATION AND POSTMODERNITY
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(industrial symbols of rural ruggedness and reliability), to and from their towncentred
offices. It is these incomers who have been at the forefront of reconstructing
the ‘traditional’ village: by resisting industrial developments (which
might have given jobs to one-time farm workers displaced by combine harvesters,
tractors and horticultural science), by having the wherewithal to have the former
smithy’s barn rebuilt (often as a second home – with all mod cons), by being most
active in sustaining the historical societies (which produce those wonderful sepia
photographs for the village hall which show ‘what life used to be like in the place
we now cherish’) and, of course, by resurrecting ‘traditions’ like morris dancing
and village crafts such as spinning and weaving (Newby, 1985, 1987).
The point here is not to mock the aspirations of modern-day village life, but
rather it is to insist that the search for an ‘authentic’ England is misconceived.
We can only construct a way of life that appears to us to echo themes from another
time (without the absolute hunger, poverty and hardship the majority of country
dwellers had to endure). This construction of a supposedly authentic way of life
is, necessarily, itself inauthentic – and ought to be recognised for what it is. Look
where one will, the search for authenticity will be foiled. Many people look to ‘traditions’
to provide a sense of place, of surety in a fast-changing world. There is
something soothing about tradition; it provides a bedrock in uncertain times, an
underlying quality of the genuine which can serve as an anchor in an unsettled
epoch. But these English traditions – Christmas Day round the tree, with turkey
and trimmings, the Oxford–Cambridge boat race, the Cup Final at Wembley, ‘real’
ale and ‘real’ pubs, perhaps above all the monarchy with a lineage stretching back
to the Anglo-Saxons – are easily shown to have been ‘inventions’ (Hobsbawm and
Ranger, 1983) that date in the main from the late Victorian period. Prince Albert
originated the ‘typical’ English Christmas, the Cup Final is of recent duration, pubs
are designed to evoke nostalgia for idealised times and the beer is produced
by the most modern methods available, while the monarchy has been subject to
radical change and reconstitution throughout its chequered history.
There is no authenticity; there are only (inauthentic) constructions of the authentic.
Take, for instance, the tourist experience (Urry, 2001). Brochures advertise an
‘unspoiled’ beach, ‘must-see’ sites, a ‘distinctive’ culture, ‘genuine’ locals and a
‘taste of the real’. But the experience of tourism is demonstrably inauthentic, a
carefully crafted artifice from beginning to end. In Greece: it is the taverna on
the beach – with well-stocked fridge full of Continental beers; the customary
music and traditional dancing – played on compact discs, most recently composed,
with waiters coached in simplified steps and instructed to ‘let the tourists
participate’; the authentic Greek cuisine – cooked in the microwave, stored in the
freezer and combined to appeal to the clients’ palates while retaining a hint of
the ‘local’ (moussaka and chips); the obliging locals who are uncorrupted by
metropolitan ways – and trained in hotel schools in Switzerland; the special
tourist attractions – developed and hyped for tourist consumption. The ‘tourist
bubble’ is intended to ensure that only pleasant experiences are undergone, that
the visitors will avoid, for example, the smells and insanitary conditions endured
by many of the indigenous people. Moreover, even were there an authentic location
in the first place, the very appearance of tourists intrudes and necessarily
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