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Cyber fear rhetoric is based of the lack of borders their
insistence on geographies of exclusion is otherizing.
Bialasiewicz et al 7, - Luiza Bialasiewicz a, David Campbell b, Stuart Elden b,
Stephen Graham b, Alex Jeffrey c, Alison J. Williams a Department of Geography,
Royal Holloway University of London, United Kingdom b International Boundaries
Research Unit, Geography Department, Durham University, Durham, DH1 3LE,
United Kingdom c School of Geography, Politics and Sociology, University of
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, United Kingdom, Performing security: The imaginative
geographies of current US strategy Political Geography 26 (2007) 405e422, via
sciencedirect.com)
Abroad, one contradiction between the moral cartography of terror and the
spatiality of globalization can be found in the attention US national security
discourse pays to the deepening connectivity between domestic US space and
burgeoning circuits of computer communication, electronic transaction, and
organized criminal activity. Significant here is the US militarys discussion of the risk
of cyber-terrorism; their efforts to clamp down on transitional financial dealings of
alleged terrorist sympathizers; or their analyses of the biological pathogens which
routinely flow around the worlds airline and shipping systems (The White House,
2002a). These bring into being a world in which everything and everywhere is
perceived as a border from which a potentially threatening Other can leap (Hage,
2003: 86). Such a world of porosity, flow and rhizomatic, fibrous connectivities is
deeply at odds with the imaginative geographies of exclusion and their moral
cartography.
brief, the history is one of individuals seeking an impossible security from the most
radical "other" of life, the terror of death which, once generalized and nationalized,
triggers a futile cycle of collective identities seeking security from alien others--who
are seeking similarly impossible guarantees. It is a story of differences taking on the
otherness of death, and identities calcifying into a fearful sameness. Since
Nietzsche has suffered the greatest neglect in international theory, his
reinterpretation of security will receive a more extensive treatment here. One must
begin with Nietzsche's idea of the will to power, which he clearly believed to be
prior to and generative of all considerations of security. In Beyond Good and Evil ,
he emphatically establishes the primacy of the will to power: "Physiologists should
think before putting down the instinct of self-preservation as the cardinal instinct of
an organic being. A living thing seeks above all to discharge its strength--life itself is
will to power; self-preservation is only one of the most frequent results." 34 The
will to power, then, should not be confused with a Hobbesian perpetual desire for
power. It can, in its negative form, produce a reactive and resentful longing for only
power, leading, in Nietzsche's view, to a triumph of nihilism. But Nietzsche refers to
a positive will to power, an active and affective force of becoming, from which
values and meanings--including self-preservation--are produced which affirm life.
Conventions of security act to suppress rather than confront the fears endemic to
life, for ". . . life itself is essentially appropriation, injury, overpowering of what is
alien and weaker; suppression, hardness, imposition of one's own forms,
incorporation and at least, at its mildest, exploitation--but why should one always
use those words in which slanderous intent has been imprinted for ages." 35
Elsewhere Nietzsche establishes the pervasiveness of agonism in life: "life is a
consequence of war, society itself a means to war ." 36 But the denial of this
permanent condition, the effort to disguise it with a consensual rationality or to hide
from it with a fictional sovereignty, are all effects of this suppression of fear. The
desire for security is manifested as a collective resentment of difference--that which
is not us, not certain, not predictable. Complicit with a negative will to power is the
fear-driven desire for protection from the unknown. Unlike the positive will to power,
which produces an aesthetic affirmation of difference, the search for truth produces
a truncated life which conforms to the rationally knowable, to the causally
sustainable. In The Gay Science, Nietzsche asks of the reader: "Look, isn't our need
for knowledge precisely this need for the familiar, the will to uncover everything
strange, unusual, and questionable, something that no longer disturbs us? Is it not
the instinct of fear that bids us to know? And is the jubilation of those who obtain
knowledge not the jubilation over the restoration of a sense of security?" 37 The
fear of the unknown and the desire for certainty combine to produce a domesticated
life, in which causality and rationality become the highest sign of a sovereign self,
the surest protection against contingent forces. The fear of fate assures a belief that
everything reasonable is true, and everything true, reasonable. In short, the security
imperative produces, and is sustained by, the strategies of knowledge which seek to
explain it. Nietzsche elucidates the nature of this generative relationship in The
Twilight of the Idols: The causal instinct is thus conditional upon, and excited by,
the feeling of fear. The "why?" shall, if at all possible, not give the cause for its own
sake so much as for a particular kind of cause --a cause that is comforting,
liberating and relieving. . . . That which is new and strange and has not been
experienced before, is excluded as a cause. Thus one not only searches for some
kind of explanation, to serve as a cause, but for a particularly selected and
preferred kind of explanation--that which most quickly and frequently abolished the
feeling of the strange, new and hitherto unexperienced: the most habitual
explanations. 38 A safe life requires safe truths. The strange and the alien remain
unexamined, the unknown becomes identified as evil, and evil provokes hostility-recycling the desire for security. The "influence of timidity," as Nietzsche puts it,
creates a people who are willing to subordinate affirmative values to the
"necessities" of security: "they fear change, transitoriness: this expresses a
straitened soul, full of mistrust and evil experiences." 39 The unknowable which
cannot be contained by force or explained by reason is relegated to the off-world.
"Trust," the "good," and other common values come to rely upon an "artificial
strength": "the feeling of security such as the Christian possesses; he feels strong in
being able to trust, to be patient and composed: he owes this artificial strength to
the illusion of being protected by a god." 40 For Nietzsche, of course, only a false
sense of security can come from false gods: "Morality and religion belong altogether
to the psychology of error : in every single case, cause and effect are confused; or
truth is confused with the effects of believing something to be true; or a state of
consciousness is confused with its causes." 41 Nietzsche's interpretation of the
origins of religion can shed some light on this paradoxical origin and transvaluation
of security. In The Genealogy of Morals , Nietzsche sees religion arising from a sense
of fear and indebtedness to one's ancestors: The conviction reigns that it is only
through the sacrifices and accomplishments of the ancestors that the tribe exists
--and that one has to pay them back with sacrifices and accomplishments: one thus
recognizes a debt that constantly grows greater, since these forebears never cease,
in their continued existence as powerful spirits, to accord the tribe new advantages
and new strength.
the point of critical politics: to develop a new political language more adequate to
the kind of society we want. Thus while much of what I have said here has been of a
negative order, part of the tradition of critical theory is that the negative may be as
significant as the positive in setting thought on new paths. For if security really is
the supreme concept of bourgeois society and the fundamental thematic of
liberalism, then to keep harping on about insecurity and to keep demanding 'more
security' (while meekly hoping that this increased security doesn't damage our
liberty) is to blind ourselves to the possibility of building real alternatives to the
authoritarian tendencies in contemporary politics. To situate ourselves against
security politics would allow us to circumvent the debilitating effect achieved
through the constant securitising of social and political issues, debilitating in the
sense that 'security' helps consolidate the power of the existing forms of social
domination and justifies the short-circuiting of even the most democratic forms. It
would also allow us to forge another kind of politics centred on a different
conception of the good. We need a new way of thinking and talking about social
being and politics that moves us beyond security. This would perhaps be
emancipatory in the true sense of the word. What this might mean, precisely, must
be open to debate. But it certainly requires recognising that security is an illusion
that has forgotten it is an illusion; it requires recognising that security is not the
same as solidarity; it requires accepting that insecurity is part of the human
condition, and thus giving up the search for the certainty of security and instead
learning to tolerate the uncertainties, ambiguities and 'insecurities' that come with
being human; it requires accepting that 'securitizing' an issue does not mean
dealing with it politically, but bracketing it out and handing it to the state; it requires
us to be brave enough to return the gift."'
and then acting as if that is likely to happen, worst-case thinking focuses only on
the extreme but improbable risks and does a poor job at assessing outcomes.
Second, it's based on flawed logic. It begs the question by assuming that a
proponent of an action must prove that the nightmare scenario is impossible . Third,
it can be used to support any position or its opposite. If we build a nuclear power
plant, it could melt down. If we don't build it, we will run short of power and society
will collapse into anarchy. If we allow flights near Iceland's volcanic ash, planes will
crash and people will die. If we don't, organs wont arrive in time for transplant
operations and people will die. If we don't invade Iraq, Saddam Hussein might use
the nuclear weapons he might have. If we do, we might destabilize the Middle East,
leading to widespread violence and death. Of course, not all fears are equal. Those
that we tend to exaggerate are more easily justified by worst-case thinking. So
terrorism fears trump privacy fears, and almost everything else; technology is hard
to understand and therefore scary; nuclear weapons are worse than conventional
weapons; our children need to be protected at all costs; and annihilating the planet
is bad. Basically, any fear that would make a good movie plot is amenable to worstcase thinking. Fourth and finally, worst-case thinking validates ignorance. Instead of
focusing on what we know, it focuses on what we don't know -- and what we can
imagine. Remember Defense Secretary Rumsfeld's quote? "Reports that say that
something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know,
there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there
are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."
And this: "the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence." Ignorance isn't a
cause for doubt; when you can fill that ignorance with imagination, it can be a call
to action. Even worse, it can lead to hasty and dangerous acts. You can't wait for a
smoking gun, so you act as if the gun is about to go off. Rather than making us
safer, worst-case thinking has the potential to cause dangerous escalation. The new
undercurrent in this is that our society no longer has the ability to calculate
probabilities. Risk assessment is devalued. Probabilistic thinking is repudiated in
favor of "possibilistic thinking": Since we can't know what's likely to go wrong, let's
speculate about what can possibly go wrong. Worst-case thinking leads to bad
decisions, bad systems design, and bad security. And we all have direct experience
with its effects: airline security and the TSA, which we make fun of when we're not
appalled that they're harassing 93-year-old women or keeping first graders off
airplanes. You can't be too careful! Actually, you can. You can refuse to fly because
of the possibility of plane crashes. You can lock your children in the house because
of the possibility of child predators. You can eschew all contact with people because
of the possibility of hurt. Steven Hawking wants to avoid trying to communicate with
aliens because they might be hostile; does he want to turn off all the planet's
television broadcasts because they're radiating into space? It isn't hard to parody
worst-case thinking, and at its extreme it's a psychological condition. Frank Furedi, a
sociology professor at the University of Kent, writes: " Worst-case thinking
encourages society to adopt fear as one of the dominant principles around which
the public, the government and institutions should organize their life. It
institutionalizes insecurity and fosters a mood of confusion and powerlessness.
Through popularizing the belief that worst cases are normal, it incites people to feel
defenseless and vulnerable to a wide range of future threats." Even worse, it plays
directly into the hands of terrorists, creating a population that is easily terrorized -even by failed terrorist attacks like the Christmas Day underwear bomber and the
Times Square SUV bomber. When someone is proposing a change, the onus should
be on them to justify it over the status quo. But worst-case thinking is a way of
looking at the world that exaggerates the rare and unusual and gives the rare much
more credence than it deserves. It isn't really a principle; it's a cheap trick to justify
what you already believe. It lets lazy or biased people make what seem to be
cogent arguments without understanding the whole issue. And when people don't
need to refute counterarguments, there's no point in listening to them.
them, and that in turn contribute to collective efforts to transform the larger
structures of being, exchange, and power that sustain (and have been sustained by)
these forms. As Derrida suggests, this is to open up aporetic possibilities that
transgress and call into question the boundaries of the self, society, and the
international that security seeks to imagine and police. The second seeks new
ethical principles based on a critique of the rigid and repressive forms of identity
that security has heretofore offered. Thus writers such as Rosalyn Diprose, William
Connolly, and Moria Gatens have sought to imagine a new ethical relationship that
thinks difference not on the basis of the same but on the basis of a dialogue with
the other that might allow space for the unknown and unfamiliar , for a "debate and
engagement with the other's law and the other's ethics" - an encounter that
involves a transformation of the self rather than the other. Thus while the sweep
and power of security must be acknowledged, it must also be refused : at the
simultaneous levels of individual identity, social order, and macroeconomic
possibility, it would entail another kind of work on "ourselves" - a political refusal of
the One, the imagination of an other that never returns to the same. It would be to
ask if there is a world after security, and what its shimmering possibilities might be.
the sellers of the dreams of ultimate political control of space and of the Hatth in
return for billion-dollar contracts. The politicians don't know enough about physics
to question the projects in any details and nowadays there is a third partner in all
this - the universities. The academic world is increasingly involved as funding for
science and engineering research projects at univcrsirics comes increasingly to
depend on the military and aerospace companies - it is questionable as to whether
they can be considered to be neutral and to give unbiased advice to government.
These days, most of Washington seems to believe that a major cyberattack on U.S.
critical infrastructure is inevitable. In March, James Clapper, U.S. director of national
intelligence, ranked cyberattacks as the greatest short-term threat to U.S. national
security. General Keith Alexander, the head of the U.S. Cyber Command, recently
characterized cyber exploitation of U.S. corporate computer systems as the
greatest transfer of wealth in world history. And in January, a report by the
Pentagons Defense Science Board argued that cyber risks should be managed with
improved defenses and deterrence, including a nuclear response in the most
extreme case.
Although the risk of a debilitating cyberattack is real, the perception of that risk
is far greater than it actually is. No person has ever died from a cyberattack,
and only one alleged cyberattack has ever crippled a piece of critical infrastructure,
causing a series of local power outages in Brazil. In fact, a major cyberattack of the
kind intelligence officials fear has not taken place in the 21 years since the Internet
became accessible to the public.
Thus, while a cyberattack could theoretically disable infrastructure or endanger
civilian lives, its effects would unlikely reach the scale U.S. officials have warned of.
The immediate and direct damage from a major cyberattack on the United States
could range anywhere from zero to tens of billions of dollars, but the latter would
require a broad outage of electric power or something of comparable damage.
Direct casualties would most likely be limited, and indirect causalities would depend
on a variety of factors such as whether the attack disabled emergency 911 dispatch
services. Even in that case, there would have to be no alternative means of
reaching first responders for such an attack to cause casualties. The indirect effects
might be greater if a cyberattack caused a large loss of confidence, particularly in
the banking system. Yet scrambled records would probably prove insufficient to
incite a run on the banks.
Officials also warn that the United States might not be able to identify the source of
a cyberattack as it happens or in its immediate aftermath. Cyberattacks have
neither fingerprints nor the smell of gunpowder, and hackers can make an intrusion
appear legitimate or as if it came from somewhere else. Iran, for example, may not
have known why its centrifuges were breaking down prematurely before its officials
read about the covert cyber-sabotage campaign against the countrys nuclear
program in The New York Times. Victims of advanced persistent threats -- extended
intrusions into organization networks for the purpose of espionage -- are often
unaware for months, or even years, that their servers have been penetrated. The
reason that such attacks go undetected is because the removal of information does
not affect the information in the system, so nothing seems amiss. The exfiltration of
information can also be easily hidden, such as in the daily flow of web traffic from
an organization.
But since everything is becoming increasingly dependent on computers, could
levels of damage impossible today become inevitable tomorrow? As it happens, all
of the trend lines -- good and bad -- in cyberspace are rising simultaneously: the
sophistication of attackers, but also that of the defenders; the salience of
cyberattacks as weapons, but also the awareness of the threat they pose; the
bandwidth available for organizing larger attacks, but also the resources to ward
them off. It is bad news that Iran is beginning to see cyberwar as a deniable means
of exploiting easy targets. And it is good news that software companies are now
rethinking the architectural features of their systems that permit such vulnerabilities
to exist in the first place.