The term divided self comes from a book by R.D. Laing published in 1965 and refers to the divergence between private, inner experience and the self one projects out into the world, the latter of which is reflected back to oneself as external feedback. Laing’s wider context includes psychological descriptions of psychic disintegration, dysphoria, schizophrenia, and madness associated with inauthenticity and adoption of a false self. The phrase “I’m beside myself” accidentally captures the sense of dual personae, i.e., having an internal monitor or being a passenger on board an out-of-control ride. Those obsessed with the idea of self (or identity, or mind, or psyche, or consciousness, take your pick, but not the identity politics version) at least know of Laing’s term, though I suspect it’s become moribund in today’s anti-intellectual environment. I resurrected it from memory in response to the Adam Curtis podcast interview embedded below.
Although I’m favorably disposed toward Adam Curtis, his remarks irritated me because he fails to cite Laing in his observations about the changing nature of discourse and how people hold themselves out in public — now always with an eye toward being surveilled, filmed, or both (filmed being an anachronism in the era of digital video). Yeah, well, duh. Curtis combs through historical footage and finds so much of it … dated, evidence of a time when people were more authentic and less performative. As a careful thinker about media, Curtis should recognize that historical representations in pictures, film, television, indeed all media, have always been stylized (just like incessant selfies with arm extended). If examples from decades past (his youth?) appear somehow more natural, less staged, managed, or unnatural I consider that simple nostalgia bias.
Staged photos appeared in the earliest daguerreotypes, and silent films had to establish an entire vocabulary suitable to cinematic storytelling, which has continued to revise and refine itself over a century. TV news reports have similarly shifted from styles used by Edward R. Morrow to Walter Cronkite to Dan Rather to whatever idiots are now vomiting up government talking points. Musical recordings in all genres also exhibit a continuous evolution of performance practice, sometimes going backward to attempt to recapture historical practice as a fetish. Cinema sometimes does that, too (e.g., B&W and/or silent elements from the past purposely reused for effect). That’s the finding: consciousness (alternatively: the way the self is constructed) and its cultural expressions are always moving targets.
