My Docile Body

So, now I’m reading Foucault’s Discipline and Punish (thank goodness because I don’t think I could have read another word in The Order of Things).  This book is a history of the prison system and is interesting because it begins with this grotesque description from a newspaper in the 17th century (I think) of a torture and execution.  I won’t go into details, but the point of it was to show how inconceivable that is to us now.  That’s not to say that “we” (or the state or whatever) have really gotten any more humane, it’s just that the way that power is exerted over us (and flows through society) has changed in a way that is sort of more severe.  Foucault would claim, the state has trained us to discipline ourselves.  Not that we are tortured, but we are watched, regulated, trained, so much so that we barely need a supervisor.  We feel that we are being watched all the time.  He actually uses the example of school and discusses how our bodies are constantly regulated (line up, sit still, write this way, not that way, go here, not there, etc.).  He also uses the example of military training and the prison.  It’s strange how similar they all seem when you think about it.  He talks about how we are trained to be efficient machines.  He uses the analogy of a machine quite a bit.  He also uses the term “docile bodies” to describe how our bodies are sort of programmed in this way, without our conscious thought.

The funny thing about this was how much I relate to the analogy of a machine.  I am a machine.  I am very disciplined and reading this made me wonder why.  Take yesterday for instance.  My docile body jerked itself from the sleep it so badly needs to read in the pre-dawn hours.  And not just read, but read for 3 hours straight, forcing my eyes to stay on the paper, forcing my mind to stay focused, forcing myself to stay awake.  Then, I took a break to run, which feels good, but was also on my schedule, so I had do it.  I can’t skip it.  Then, I dragged my body to the bus stop, then to class, forcing myself to sit still, speak properly (or try to), take detailed notes, etc.  Then, I went straight to the library, where my non-docile body wanted to play around on facebook for a few minutes, but eventually, I made myself close my computer and open my book to read right up until I had to teach.  Then, I marched myself over to teach, focused on teaching for two hours (which always goes the quickest).  Then, back on the bus and home.  Again, my undisciplined self wanted to watch TV for a bit, just while I ate dinner (it was now 7:30pm), but it lasted a little longer… but again, I made myself turn off the TV, clean up the kitchen, and go up to my room to read.  I read until 11pm, until I couldn’t force my body to read anymore and tried to sleep, but instead worried for an hour or so about when and how I was going to finish this reading.  Not tomorrow, tomorrow, my docile body must work.

So, why do I do this?  Why do I discipline myself so much that I am an efficient machine, exhausted, but productive?  I wonder if it’s because of what I learned in school.  Do your homework on time or the teacher will think badly of you.  Listen to your teacher or your parents will be disappointed.  Do the best you can or you might lose your status as “smart” and “hard-working.”  Are these standards I set on my own or are they the power of American social norms that have a hold of me.  Could I do anything differently?  Could I relax?  Could I skim?  Could I do less than my best?  I really don’t feel like I can and maybe that’s a problem.  I don’t know.  My head hurts.