Frenetic Standstill
Part 2
By Jonathan Martineau
Jonathan Martineau teaches at Concordia University. His work explores the history of ideas, technology, political economy and social time. A participant in our second conversation on Presence, he extends his reflections with a triptych that decomposes presence as in a prism. This is the second of his three short texts.
There’s this bench at the park I like to sit on, that is where I am now. I have a free hour before dinner to take a look at this poetry book I grabbed a bit randomly at the library the other day. A part of me hesitates to go forward with that plan. Reading this neither helps my work in any concrete way, nor contributes anything to my day’s tasks and chores. But soon the discomfort fades away. This poetess appeases me. I feel present to a time that is mine, a time for its own sake. Perhaps it is just these moments, with no further justification, that are the most valuable? They do not just appear, however. One has to make them, claim them from the course of things. I fabricate this moment, shape it with intention. I make it a stage onto which I project my own freedom: I am more than my work! My time is more than what merely unfolds, a list of things to do! There you go, one has to take the time. Pretty simple, no?
« I fabricate this moment, shape it with intention. I make it a stage onto which I project my own freedom: I am more than my work! My time is more than what merely unfolds, a list of things to do! There you go, one has to take the time. Pretty simple, no? »
I open the book, read a few verses, but soon my mind wanders. I think about this dinner a couple of days ago, with some old friends. We had not seen each other in ages, we had not taken the time. “We work too much, we’re constantly running…” said we, while opening the second bottle. Jeanne took a group selfie, sent at once to everyone and posted, an exteriorisation of memory, an immediate historicity as reassurance of our presence to that moment. Philip took to his phone to see the pic, but saw a notification instead; his boss had called. “He called instead of messaging, it’s probably urgent.” Phil went out to return the call, and came back later to say goodbye, sorry he had to leave, “but let’s do this again soon!” I think of the pictures of his twins Louis showed me, how grown up they are now, and Mireille who also left early to meet up with other friends, she wanted to maximize her night out and see as many friends as possible. Jeanne also left then, she’s so busy with her work, but also the kids and the home to tend to as Philip is working long hours in this new job of his. I had to run too. Important work things early the next day and I needed my rest. These moments when we can truly let go of work and chores are so rare. We were all delighted to be there together, and yet in retrospect I am left with this feeling of a rushed presence, a preoccupied brevity, an interstice too thin to hold us fully in.
Presence is a dynamic of reference, in which a future unfolds a past in the present. Presence is also inscribed in a time that is first and foremost social, shaped by norms, organized, institutionalized, and fraught with power relations. Our acting is inscribed in a system of clocks, calendars and schedules that dictate rhythm, pace and timing according to collective temporal institutions constructed over the course of our history. This vast network of meaning shapes presence, it orients, coordinates and disciplines our relations to ourselves, to others, to the world.
« Our acting is inscribed in a system of clocks, calendars and schedules that dictate rhythm, pace and timing according to collective temporal institutions constructed over the course of our history. This vast network of meaning shapes presence, it orients, coordinates and disciplines our relations to ourselves, to others, to the world. »
Today, the pulse of time has been anchored to the logic of the market. “Growth” is our collective telos, this future horizon dictating its pace to the present under its master signifier and sovereign good: productivity. Do more in less time. “Squeeze more out of time,” sure, but isn’t it time that squeezes more out of us? Capitalism has made time into a commodity that can be bought and sold. In this game of social forces, played beyond our individual reach, presence becomes a resource to be oriented, coopted, solicited, exploited.
I feel these pressures everyday. I am always present, how can I not be, but I am seldom present to and for myself. I must follow temporal norms and adjust my activities to the passing of the hours. I must hurry up. More insidiously, I appropriate and internalize this idea of making my time more productive. Do more at work, sure, but time with loved ones must also be productive: of love, friendship, unforgettable memories, “quality time.” My leisure time must produce a richness of experiences; my week in Athens follows a strict schedule so that I see and do as much as one can in a week, I must maximize this vacation. I fantasize doing nothing, but feel guilty when it happens. I desire time off, but I fear empty time. If I pause, surely I will miss out on something important, I won’t be able to catch up afterwards. I seek to maximize all the times of my life, as if all were work time, means to produce an end that transcends them, always more.
Today’s algorithmic capitalism siphons our attention, without us really knowing who or what lies behind the app, without us knowing whether we are the user or the used. Each moment of our connected lives generates data and feeds capital. The logic of productivity, now turbocharged by algorithms, accelerates the passage of time and saturates every instant. Technologies creep into our lives, advertised by false prophets enjoining us to “save time” by “mastering” it. Multitasking strategies, tight schedules, high-tech time measurement devices, productivity apps and AIs, global and integrated standard time system, the irony of it all is sharp and cruel: the more we try to save time, the more it slips away. The more we try to control time, the more it controls us. We regiment social time so that not even a nanosecond can escape, can not be counted, yet never in history have humans been so rushed, overwhelmed, so little in control of their own time. Technology does not free our time, it anchors and submits it to its ever-accelerating pace. I’m longing for a time that does not count.
« The more we try to control time, the more it controls us. »
I check my phone as it lays beside me on the bench. I look for the dinner group selfie. But here I click on an ad for a shirt, I do need one actually. Here’s an urgent mail from a colleague, she needs my signature on this doc oh I remember I had to buy her new book she probably thinks I will read it actually I have this item waiting already in my cart on Amazon I will buy all of this at once two messages on the dating app I cannot wait too long before answering or else people take it the wrong way let’s just send something quick to keep the convo going oh and I forgot to enter my lunch calories on the diet app and joker707 is challenging me to blitz chess and what is that video of Yannis Varoufakis what is he saying? The technical acceleration gathered in my phone captures my time, solicits and saturates my present, isolates and hyperindividualizes it, deploys addictive hooks that constantly take me back into the technocapitalist velocities of this strange present, this frenetic standstill. I lose duration, the ability to linger, deliberate, to deploy true attention, presence to myself, to be me. Sure, I want to “be in the moment,” but I do not have the time.
I come back to my poetry book, to this moment I wanted to claim. Where was I?
Jonathan Martineau, february 2025
The third part of this triptych will be available on September 14.
On the agenda: Jonathan Martineau will take part in a Talks and Gatherings of Brèches on October 1st in the chapel of the Cité-des-Hospitalières to share reflections on his three texts.
Illustrations: Fatou Dravé
Editing: Judith Oliver
