The 1AC’s collective call for action in space is an ordering process by which the West is able to assert dominance
Kato in ’93
(Masahide, Professor of political science at the university of Hawaii, “Nuclear Globalism: Traversing Rockets, Satellites, and Nuclear War via the Strategic Gaze,” page 345-346, MDA)
As I have argued, the objectification of Earth from the absolute point of the strategic gaze leads to a rearrangement of each locality into an order organized according to the late capitalist strategy. Such rearrangement finds its expression in an iconographic image of the globe representing the order of the world. The emergence and propagation of this image have crucial relevance to Jameson’s second thesis, capital’s penetration into the unconscious. Significantly, the commercialization of the unconscious consolidates the First World way of seeing by disseminating images through the mass media. One such manifestation of the First World way of seeing is the fiction of the earth as a finite, unified and integrated whole. The representation of the globe as a unified whole, however, is not a new concept: it has been the cognitive basis of world-wide expansion of capital since the Renaissance. Nevertheless, the significance of the image of the globe in the late capitalist phase differs from that of earlier phases on three accounts. First, unlike in earlier phases, the image of the globe is based on a photo image which is mechanically reproducible and transmittable. The dissemination of images, which is ideological reproduction sui generis, proceeds extensively with the commercialization of the unconscious. In other words, the photo image of the globe needs to be situated in the historical context wherein mechanically repredocible images are the very materialist of the reproduction of the social order. Second, the notion of the globe is no longer anchored in a cartographic abstraction of the surface of the earth, but is now a figure perceived by the camera’s eye. Thus the image ineluctably involves the problematic of technosubjectivity in the construction of the social totality. Third, the image (ultimately the technosubject) serves as a principle of equivalence between self (First World self) and matter in general (earth, humanity, environment, and so on). In other words, technosubjectivity renders the First World self-capable of attaining an unprecedented mode of domination over the rest of the world. I will defer my ideological analysis on the last two points to the next section. Let us first focus on the emergence of the global discourse facilitated by the dissemination of the image of the globe. The fiction of the globe as a unified whole lends itself to the emergence of globalism. The discourse of globalism is well epitomized in Richard Nixon’s address to the “planet” in 1969: “for one priceless moment in the whole history of man, all the people on this earth are truly one.” The statement is ideologically more essential than what is later to be called Nixon doctrine: it capitulates the global strategy of transnational capital in the post-Nixon doctrine and post-Bretton Woods era. Therefore, we must read such seemingly universalistic phrases as “global village,” “one earth,” “global community,” and so forth, very symptomatically. Those buzzwords are none other than the manifestation of a global discourse signifying the emergence of a global transnational collectivity disguised in “planetary” vocabularies.
Link – “We” Rhetoric
Use of the term ‘we’ and an advocation of collective thought paves the way for government intervention into individual lives and the debate space – this form of politicization in debate causes tyrannical rule and coercion, crushing the possibility for participatory democracy
Kerr in 3
Roger Kerr, Executive Director of the New Zealand Business Roundtable, ‘3 (“The 'We' Word: And the Tyranny of the Majority”http://www.cis.org.au/policy/summer03-04/polsumm0304-4.htm)
Of all such terms, 'we' is the most subtle and troublesome. It is a term that we-so to speak-cannot dispensewith, and so we risk being trapped into connotations that we don't intend or are unaware of. 'We' can be used in an individualistic sense: 'we' taken as individuals, who can act and make decisions on our own behalf. But it can also be used in a collective sense, meaning that on each issue 'we' have to make a single decision that applies to all of us. For example, after a natural catastrophe, someone might say, 'we should all help the victims'. The words by themselves don't expose two crucial distinctions: whether assistance should be by each of us as individuals or organised on a collective basis; and, if collective, whether it should be voluntary (through donations) or involuntary (through government action financed out of taxes). But my deeper point is that this ambiguity of 'we' can lead us into collective thinking and coercive action where it isn't necessary. Political rhetoric is full of phrases like 'we as a nation must decide whether we want a national airline/film industry/manufacturing sector/whatever'. This assumes that 'we' have to make a single, collective decision as voters, whereas in reality 'we' as individuals are making that decision every day. If consumers prefer a domestically manufactured product to an imported one, a domestic manufacturing industry or firm will be there to meet the demand; if they prefer the imported product it won't. The demand that 'we as a nation must decide' is to call on people to decide through the political system things that they can readily resolve as individual consumers. The 'we' word may also be used by members of groups that are smaller than, and contained within, the wider society. In a system that encourages lobbying by special interests and institutionalises 'disadvantaged' minorities, spokespersons of those groups may be tempted into a false collectivism. The media encourage this by commonly treating any member of a disadvantaged minority as automatically representative of that sub-set, as if all its members were unanimous about every issue. Underlying the individualist and collectivist senses of 'we' is the distinction between what David Green calls 'corporate association' and 'civil association': A 'corporate association' is composed of persons united in pursuit of a common interest or objective . . . In the pure form of a nation as a corporate association, there is but one overriding national objective. In a nation of 'civil associates', people are united not because they share a concrete goal, or are engaged together in a substantive task, but because they acknowledge the authority of the rules under which they live . . . The task of government under a corporate association is to manage the pursuit of the common goal and to direct individuals as appropriate . . . The task of the state under a civil association is to maintain and enforce the laws, and to supply services such as defence, which must be financed from taxation. The role of government is limited and subject to the law.2 As Green notes, if we take society to be a civil association rather than a corporate association, the role of what 'we' collectively have to decide is limited to genuine public goods like law-enforcement and defence-since these are goods that we individually can't otherwise produce in the desired amounts-plus some form of collectively provided social safety net. There are not many genuine public goods, and the number is shrinking with advancing technology. But the constant use of the collective 'we' in political debate tends to push out the agenda of government into areas where we as individuals are capable of looking after ourselves. Indeed, most of the time the 'we' word is really a disguise for the 'it' word: the government. Those who argue that 'we as a nation' must decide whether we want a manufacturing industry are really saying that, since 'we' as individual consumers have shown that we prefer imports, the government should override those preferences and protect domestic manufacturers from import competition. The scope for special interests to advance under the cover of the 'we' word is obvious. It is true that sometimes such government intervention does appear to command a degree of popular support, and it is a huge advantage to a special interest seeking government favours when this is the case. Indeed, not only special interests but governments themselves are constantly in the business of testing 'public opinion' with polls, consultations, focus groups, and so on, trying to come up with putative majorities to legitimise their proposals instead of seriously demonstrating that they serve genuine collective interests. But the further away 'we' collectively are taken from 'us' individually, the more contrived, artificial and fragile is the 'majority' that is formed in our name. For example, advocates of bigger government like to cite opinion polls that appear to show that a majority approves of higher taxes to finance better health, education or welfare benefits. Four major objections can be raised against this. First, the question itself assumes that it is axiomatic that higher taxes actually result in better services. They may well not, but the opinion pollsters don't normally accommodate this possibility. Second, the polls typically present a bogus either-or choice between raising taxes and leaving them unchanged. They exclude the entirely feasible options of charging for some services and lowering taxes to allow more individuals to make private arrangements. So the majority for higher taxes is largely contrived. Third, some of the many beneficiaries may expect others to pay the higher taxes: 'we' doesn't include 'me', as it were. Finally, we tend in the privacy of the polling booth to vote against higher taxes, whatever we think we should say to opinion pollsters. Several Western political parties have lost elections in recent years after promising to increase taxes, or after increasing them when they had promised not to. It is a major problem for opinion polls that respondents may not reveal their true preferences but express preferences that are socially fashionable. Again, the collective 'we's that are constantly cobbled together in support of some proposal or other are highly dependent on the phrasing of whatever it is that is being put to us. The question 'Should we protect our manufacturers from import competition?' may be supported by a majority. But if the question were rephrased 'Should the government raise the prices of manufactured goods by levying a tax on manufactured imports?', the majority would be smaller or even non-existent. If the 'we's that opinion polls record are so precarious, it's not surprising that they can be contradictory as well. A good example comes from the United States in the mid-1990s. In 1994, a new Republican-dominated Congress thought it had a clear mandate to move towards a balanced budget. It duly put up proposals to reduce the growth rate of some welfare entitlement programmes. But no sooner had the proposals been passed than President Clinton vetoed them, invoking the support of a new majority opposing them. Which did US citizens want? A balanced budget or guaranteed entitlement levels? They wanted both. The 'will of the people' may be systematically ambiguous on the decisions that governments make on a daily basis. The truth is that few consequences for the respondent hang on the answers given to an opinion pollster, and there is little incentive to make a considered judgment. This is largely true of voting as well, since a single vote hardly ever determines the outcome of an election. But there is some evidence that people take voting relatively seriously. Devotees of the 'we' word might therefore be challenged to consider making more use of the system of citizens initiated referenda. They are unlikely to do so because, unlike with opinion polls, the results of a referendum cannot be easily manipulated. But the challenge could at least inject a little linguistic hygiene into the Towers of Babel that politicians, lobbyists, intellectuals and journalists have constructed in modern democracies. This is not to suggest that the collective 'we' must be confined to the limited range of collective or public goods that a government has to fund or produce in a civil association. Although the members of a society like Australia or New Zealand are for the most part unknown to one another, we have common bonds and share a common destiny. A civil association does not conscript its members into overriding collective purposes, but nor is it merely a collection of atomised individuals who have nothing to do with one another. We have our voluntary collective activities, like sports, churches, associations of all sorts, and our annual timetable of festivals and rituals. When referring to our common life, we can use the 'we' word without ambiguity or sleight of hand. The problem arises when our common life is made the basis for what are usually spurious majorities for expanding the scope of government beyond its necessary limits. Such majorities typically reflect only the shifting and temporary coalitions that our political system produces, and government that is beholden to them ceases to be the agent of the society and becomes an instrument of coercion. So beware the 'we' word in politics, since, despite its apparently communitarian connotations, it so often portends a weakening rather than a strengthening of social cohesion. A key feature of constitutional democracy is the protection of minorities and the rights of dissenting, law-abiding individuals. Exercising through politics the so-called 'tyranny of the majority', and trampling on individual rights, are recipes for social discord at best and a slide into an Orwellian world at worst.
B. The impact of this totalitarianism is a mass genocide that will be inflicted on the people who have come to be dependent on the federal government.
R. J. Rummel in 96, Ph.D. in Political Science, Finalist for 1996 Nobel Peace Prize, Professor Emeritus of Political Science, University of Hawaii, “The Holocaust in Comparative and Historical Perspective,” Vol.3, no.2, April 1, 1998, Idea Journal,http://www.ideajournal.com/articles.php?id=17 accessed july 1
The more totalitarian and less democratic a regime the more democide, the more genocide, and the greater the annual rate of democide that it commits. That is, although the independent patterns of domestic democide, foreign democide, genocide, and the others, are not correlated, together they are accounted for by a regime's totalitarian power. Power is the means through which a regime can accomplish its goals or whims. When a regime's power is magnified through its forceful intervention in all aspects of society, including its control over religion, the economy, and even the family, then when conjoined with an absolutist ideology or religion, mass killing becomes a practical means of achieving its ends. Thus we have the megamurderers shown in Table 1, such as the totalitarian USSR, communist China, Nazi Germany, and Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge. And thus, when the regime finds for whatever reason that the continued existence of a social group is incompatible with its beliefs or goals, totalitarian power enables it to destroy that group. Genocide follows. On the other hand, democratic elites generally lack the power to, and democratic culture anyway opposes, the outright extermination of people or social groups for whatever reason.
Collectivization of “we” when in fact there are a multitude of different fractions and individuals is a false generalization that ignres interpersonal conflicts
(Margolin, Uri, BA cum laude (Hebrew University, Jerusalem, Israel) Philosophy and English Literature. PhD (Cornell University) Comparative Literature, Telling in the Plural: From Grammar to Ideology Margolin, Uri. Poetics Today, Volume 21, Number 3, Fall 2000, pp. 591-593 (Article) Published by Duke University Press, DA: 6/24/11, CP)
This article aims to provide a definition, description, and typology of collective narrative agents and of collective narratives. A collective narrative agent occurs in a given narrative if three conditions are satisfied: (a) the argument position in numerous narrative propositions is occupied by an expression designating a group of some kind; (b) the predicate position in these propositions is occupied by predicates that designate the group’s holistic attributes or collective actions; (c) the group as such fulfills a range of thematic roles in the narrated sequence. A narrative is a collective narrative if a collective narrative agent occupies the protagonist role.The difference between standard and collective narratives resides therefore in the reversal of the usual proportion between individual and collective agents. Not every collection of individuals (e.g., Zola’s crowds) qualifies as a collective agent.To qualify, the collection must act as a plural subject or we-group, capable of forming shared group intentions and acting on them jointly. A different type of collective agent is a community: a group with a shared sense of identity. At the extreme end stands the group as a corporate entity, a totally impersonal network of positions and roles that creates the impression of an independent entity with a will of its own. With respect to individual group members, the narrative adopts a collective perspective on them. The individual is accordingly presented as part of a collectivity or a social self, its actions those of a role bearer within a group, and the relations between any two individuals defined via a plural subject category. With respect to the group as a collective narrative agent, the portrayal of its physical, verbal, and mental activities oscillates between two poles: description in group-as-a-whole terms and in individuals-as-group-members terms. Both individual and collective levels exist concurrently and are irreducible to each other, so that an unresolved tension between the two is a basic feature of collective narration.The tension increases as one moves from the representation of physical action to that of speech, where the employment of direct discourse features for the speech of many is problematic.The greatest difficulty is encountered on the level of mental activity or experientiality, because exact inner verbalization varies from one group member to another.The article further discusses collective narrators, narratees, and the appropriation of collective narratives by actual world individuals and groups, using the Passover Haggadah as a primary example. The vast majority of Western literary narratives consist centrally of the stories of one individual in isolation or of a limited number of interacting individuals. But they may also contain a collective narrative agent (CNA), that is, a group of two or more individuals represented as a singular higher order entity or agent, a collective individual so to speak, with global properties or actions. While such CNAs are common and central, and sometimes even obligatory, in numerous nonliterary kinds of narrative (records of group experiences; historical, political, and sociological narratives), groups or collective agents are optional elements in literary narratives, and when they do occur, they usually occupy a background or secondary role. But this optional or secondary status is not inevitable. Even if we limit ourselves to contemporary literature, with its supposed emphasis on the individual subject, we could still find in it a good number of narratives, from short stories to novels,whose main protagonist is a collectivity of some kind, ranging in size from a couple (Barth ; Brechon and Brechon ; Perec ), through a small group of children, technicians, or guests at a birthday party (Greene ; Silvain ;Walser , respectively) to a large group of deportees to a concentration camp (Borowski ), to whole generations of Africans (Armah ), and finally to a large portion of humanity, namely, women (Wittig ). In these narratives, the customary foreground/background relation is reversed. While specific individuals do occur in all of them, they are now the ones who play the minor, often purely illustrative role, while the story as a whole is primarily the group’s story. The intent of the present study is to describe in a systematic manner the specific, differential features of this kind of narrative on several levels, from microstylistic to thematic. Our first task will be to define in an explicit manner the specific nature of a CNA in general and of the type of narrative in which it occupies the central role, namely, the collective narrative (CN). Such a definition should take into account both literary and nonliterary kinds of narrative (sections –). The next step involves an examination of the possibilities available for the portrayal of a CNA as opposed to an individual agent, and the constraints on this operation (). This examination may also explain, at least in part, the relative scarcity of literary CNs. Further issues to be examined include the major kinds of CNAs one encounters inside and outside of literature, the various types of interaction involving groups as their main agents, and the major thematic concerns of literary, and possibly also nonliterary, CNs (). Next follows a brief discussion of the reception, both textually inscribed and actual, of a CN ().The concluding section () expands the horizon of inquiry beyond the contemporary and offers some observations on the Passover Haggadah, a paradigmatic case of a CN.