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<ul>
<li><a href="#part1">Part 1</a></li>
<li><a href="#part2">Part 2</a></li>
<li><a href="#part3">Part 3</a></li>
<li><a href="#part4">Part 4</a></li>
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<li><a href="http://fiddle.jshell.net/eagles/LzcNa/show/#refer">Reference</a></li>
</ul>
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<a name="part1">
<h3>Part 1</h3>
<p>It wasn't long ago when we smiled to ourselves at the reports of Russians and Chinese buying up blue jeans and dancing to rock music. Somehow we knew that this meant we were winning. No doubt our confidence was justified -- and all the more as we penetrate our "enemies" by means of commercial television, cinema, and, finally, the fully integrated logic and the virtually real images of a brave new world. And yet, we are only now beginning to sense, with a restless foreboding, the slowly emergent effects of these images upon our own culture. What if it turns out that "winning" is the worst possible outcome?
</a>
<a name="part2">
<h3>Part 2</h3>
The obvious lie should already have alerted us to the dangers. A culture that has largely succeeded in eradicating the last traces of its own village life turns around and -- by appealing to a yet further extension of the eradicating technology -- encourages itself with Edenic images of a global village. This is Doublespeak. The television, having helped to barricade the villager behind the walls of his own home, will not now convert the world into a village simply by enabling him to watch the bombs as they rain upon Baghdad. Nor will we suddenly be delivered from ourselves by making the television interactive and investing it with computing power. (Interactivity allows, among other things, the hand to guide the bomb to its target.) In none of this do we see a healing of the terms of human exchange. Nor do we see evidence of escape from the inexorable, despotic logic already responsible for the fortification and isolation of our own inner-city "villages."
</a>
<div id="part3">
<h3>Part 3</h3>
It wasn't long ago when we smiled to ourselves at the reports of Russians and Chinese buying up blue jeans and dancing to rock music. Somehow we knew that this meant we were winning. No doubt our confidence was justified -- and all the more as we penetrate our "enemies" by means of commercial television, cinema, and, finally, the fully integrated logic and the virtually real images of a brave new world. And yet, we are only now beginning to sense, with a restless foreboding, the slowly emergent effects of these images upon our own culture. What if it turns out that "winning" is the worst possible outcome?
</div>
<div id="part4">
<h3>Part 4</h3>
The obvious lie should already have alerted us to the dangers. A culture that has largely succeeded in eradicating the last traces of its own village life turns around and -- by appealing to a yet further extension of the eradicating technology -- encourages itself with Edenic images of a global village. This is Doublespeak. The television, having helped to barricade the villager behind the walls of his own home, will not now convert the world into a village simply by enabling him to watch the bombs as they rain upon Baghdad. Nor will we suddenly be delivered from ourselves by making the television interactive and investing it with computing power. (Interactivity allows, among other things, the hand to guide the bomb to its target.) In none of this do we see a healing of the terms of human exchange. Nor do we see evidence of escape from the inexorable, despotic logic already responsible for the fortification and isolation of our own inner-city "villages."
</div>
<div id="refer">
<h3>Reference</h3>
<ol>
<li>Mander, 1991. Also see chapter 5, "On Being Responsible for Earth."</li>
<li>Schoenhoff, 1993: 115.</li>
<li>Ellul, 1990: 53.</li>
<li>Quoted in Schoenhoff, 1993: 80.</li>
<li>Schoenhoff, 1993: 75.</li>
<li>Ellul, 1990: 162-63.</li>
<li>Schoenhoff, 1993: 82-83.</li>
</ol>
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