The use of body cameras because the incorporation of the police into the surveillant assemblage through the increase in visibility and surveillance facilitated by digital platforms. Their aff allows the police to maintain the monopoly on truth that maximizes control and superiority.
Chapman 16 (Jessica Chapman holds a Master of Arts in Communication and a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science from Carleton University, “Becoming the Camera: Body worn video and shifting expectations of police work”, 2016, Pgs 1 -4)
Following several very public instances of police misconduct in the United States, body worn video (BWV) technologies have become a popular ‘solution’ to public cries for additional oversight and accountability in policing.1 Having historically enjoyed a position outside of the scope of the surveillant gaze, police are now being incorporated into the surveillant assemblage as a result of the visibility that results from camera ubiquity and the viral sharing facilitated by digital platforms. Therefore, although BWV might be part of a solution to misconduct, the adoption of these devices can also be considered a strategic move by police organizations to regain a level of control over their own visibility as camera wielding citizens continue to turn the surveillant gaze toward them. As a result of their positioning on the body and the subsequent first person perspective, these devices allow police to document their experience during an encounter. However, the bodies in question are police bodies, they represent the state; they are the official authority and the video traces of their surveillance may become the official account.BWV offers police organizations the opportunity to manage their visibility strategically by laying a foundation on which to position their BWV footage as having a superior claim to truth and justice. The coupling of these technological extensions with ongoing police militarization represents a shift toward a cyborg officer whose body and capabilities are enhanced. Additionally, as these cyborg officers are being constructed as a defensive strategy against a public that is perceived as malicious, they are politically motivated making the transition past cyborg into RoboCop. By discrediting external footage and presenting their own as unbiased, these RoboCops and the footage they produce are poised to control narratives in the event that misconduct occurs. In order to maintain the monopoly on truth necessary to achieve strategic visibility within the assemblage, officers must produce quality footage – something fictional officer Reade is obviously aware of. The result is that officers must have a deep understanding of the affordances and limitations of their devices and they must be cognisant enough of their surroundings to ensure that any necessary details are documented. Goold’s (2003) work found that officers who understand the limitations of recording technology often modify their behaviour in order to ensure that CCTV cameras get the ‘right shot’; becoming increasingly concerned about the way that their actions will look and take the appropriate steps to ensure that the angles, lighting, framing, etc. are favourable. It can be suggested that having the camera mounted on their bodies will exacerbate officers’ awareness of the gaze and any anxiety that comes with it. As officers consciously modify their looking and recording behaviours in a manner that will produce more flattering video footage, they adopt the perspective of the camera. They become the directors of their own films, adopting what I describe in this study as a “cinematic logic” that requires an understanding of the technology and consciously moving in a manner that leverages its affordances in an effort to both record the desired footage and ensure that it clearly reflects what the officer wants it to. In many ways, the adoption of this logic can be considered both an example of officers being taken over by the surveillant assemblage and their opportunity create resistance within it. On one hand, the police are more visible than ever before as increasing camera ubiquity forces them into the assemblage. On the other hand, their adoption of cameras they control represents an attempt to maximize control within the assemblage. By taking on the corporealized responsibility of recording video footage that will likely serve as evidence, the practical job of policing changes significantly. Previously responsible for interpreting situations after the fact in their notes, police must now ensure that the camera is interpreting the situation appropriately in the moment2 . Policing no longer relies on the officer’s interpretation – full of experience, but limited by her or his subjectivity – but on the ‘truth’ captured by the camera and the data that comes with it. Shifting the focus of policing in this way raises significant questions about the role that police play in society and how that is changed as they are forced to become videographers tasked with making sure the video tells the right story. This transition fundamentally changes what police do and reshapes how we understand what police do and what they are. It is not my intention to make a normative judgement about BWV, instead I seek to attend to the tensions emerging as a result of these devices and the practical changes to policing that they demand.
The threat of extinction posed by climate change operates as a new transcendence – their attempts to forward the primacy of life presupposes a static concept of “the human” whose life should be preserved – turns their impact.
[Claire, Edwin Erle Sparks Professor of English at Pennsylvania State University and cultural theorist, “‘A Grandiose Time of Coexistence’: Stratigraphy of the Anthropocene” Deleuze Studies, Vol 10 Iss 4, https://www-euppublishing-com.proxy.lib.umich.edu/doi/full/10.3366/dls.2016.0238]
Rather than think of tipping points, of game over, of closing windows, or of opportunities (finally) for achieving justice and victory for all of us, now – we might think of those potentialities that are not of this world, and are not of our history. There is the time and history of the Anthropocene, a time and history of techno-science, human ‘progress’, globalism, consumption, expansion and survival. There are other times and histories, including all those that were vanquished by colonialism and capitalist imperialism. Now, it may be true that appealing to those other planes of thought – where ‘the human’ does not operate as a silent presupposed ‘we’, and where the future of ‘us’ as a species does not control the imaginary – would do nothing to help ‘us’ survive. There have been, and still are, modes of existence that are not marked by a sense of ‘the human’, and certainly not by a panic regarding the non-existence of human intelligence. In this respect one might oppose those arguments today that seek to sustain ‘man’ as pure intellect – either by fetishising the future or privileging ‘intelligence’ as the definitive human potentiality– with styles of living (such as Australian Indigenous culture to name just one example) that see the past, time, space and the earth as populated and given meaning and sense by way of nonhuman persons. The anthropos of the Anthropocene is constituted through – among other things – a geological comportment to the world, and a capacity to read human time and survival within a frame of deep time. Anthropocene man is the man not only of universal history and species recognition, but also the man of sustained self-identity and ecological concern, where such concern is framed by the right to life. Today's discourses of climate change ethics and Anthropocene studies are predominantly concerned with how ‘we’ would live on, including how ‘we’ might learn from other cultures. They reflect upon, delimit, accuse and unify the human from the point of view of the subject who surveys history and adopts the distance of critique and judgement. (Jacques Derrida, in response to Foucault, suggested that this hyperbolic violence of reason was unavoidable; any attempt to place Western reason within a broader history would itself be an act of unifying, critical and elevated reason (Derrida 1978).) Anthropocene man, the man who finds himself again as a geological agent, and then reflects upon his viability for ‘the’ future, operates as yet one more transcendence that organisesall other strata. What would it mean to think as if such an inescapable, universalising horizon were one stratum among others?We might ask whether ‘other’ cultures that do not have a sense of ‘the human’ might enable the capacity to think of the world in a manner not divided between human and nonhuman, man and his others, universal humanity and its differentiation. Here, I think, we encounter one of the most difficult problems of Deleuze's œuvre, and (in a related manner) one of the most profound questions opened by the concept of the Anthropocene. As I have already argued, Deleuze was opposed to arguments that stayed within a certain distribution or orientation of thinking which negotiated ‘both sides’ of the argument: ‘on the one hand … on the other hand …’. The difficulty, therefore, is thinking beyond already constituted interior and exterior orientations of thinking. One might say that nothing marks Western thought more than the ongoing history of self-overcoming, of renewing oneself by way of an ‘outside’. Philosophy must purge itself of all contingent, received, historically bounded and specific attachments, constantly erasing its own presuppositions. One of the ways this has been achieved is by modern anti-foundationalism; if there is nothing timeless, necessary, natural or essential about thinking, then thought finds itself through a process of constant self-erasure. In practical form this often takes an anthropological turn; one might imagine other cultures or times without ‘our’ sense of self, without binary sexes, without concepts of ownership, without romantic love, without a sense of ‘art’ or ‘mind’ or ‘guilt’ (and so on). Nothing would be more internal to the West than emptying itself of its own content by way of finding difference in ‘the other’. When ‘we’ ask if there might not be a good Anthropocene, or whether climate change might not be the opportunity to find the justice we have always imagined, we are thinking as if there were only one time and only one history.
Despite Deleuze's and Deleuze and Guattari's own work offering an outside to thought that seems to repeat, yet again, a long tradition of though re-finding itself by way of its own self-annihilation, I would suggest that something more provocative can be found in the stratigraphic method. If one were to take stratigraphic time seriously, one might think of other worlds and other forms of existence still existing in the present, regardless of their functionality or feasibility for our future. What might it be like to live as if one were not defined and sustained by the parochial desire for our own living on? Here is where the Deleuzian challenge to thought and its outside truly opens another space: thought has its own outside, and in this case the Anthropocene is predominantly the result of scaling ‘up’ or opening to a thought of deep time, but it is always a deep time unfolded from the point of view of man. If one thinks of stratigraphy beyond geology, one might not remain within the layers of time that are readable in the earth's strata, but consider all those once-lived, no-longer-lived, possible and inhuman worlds that – from the present – can appear only as unthinkable or monstrous. To take just two examples: it appears that post-apocalyptic culture can only envisage our future as a wasteland in which we yearn for the pleasures of the present. (One might think here of the film Oblivion, where the central character, played by Tom Cruise, has retained records that he plays wistfully, fragile books, a baseball cap and an astounding recollection of the last-played Superbowl.) Beyond the popular imaginary and the ongoing discourse of what ‘we’ must do to be or become sustainable, there is also the high-brow assumption that what defines itself as ‘the human’ (intelligence) might be catastrophically risked and lost (Bostrom 2014). The more profound outside or radical exterior would deface what seems most intimate and interior, ‘our’ right to life and the value of life in what ‘we’ take to be its current form. What if living otherwise were something that would be more destructive than the attrition of climate change? What if, rather than holding on and eking out an existence as best we can, we were to act and think as if our world and our time were one among others and not the only life with a right to survive? Imagining those worlds that are not our own – whether actual, past, or virtual – might do nothing to restore or save the present, and might not offer anything for thought as it has defined itself so far. At a quite banal level one might say that Western thought and its accompanying practices of imperialism, colonisation, barbarism and enslavement have destroyed many worlds and potential worlds that would not have generated what calls itself the Anthropocene. But even if those worlds cannot provide any exit from the Anthropocene for us, they might intimate an ethics that would be genuinely affirmative of stratigraphic time. Such an ethics would think and act as if one's time were not one's own, as if a thousand other temporalities existed alongside every now. Rather, then, than thinking about recycling, minimising one's carbon footprint, purchasing a smaller car and buying local produce – all actions designed to sustain this present into ‘our’ future – one might act and think as if this present with all its desires and interests were not worthy of our care.