WHAT IS OUR UNDERSTANDING AND INTERACTION WITH GENIUS?

André Hillas


We have not met our Genius and most likely will not. We do not want to meet our Genius, and if we do, will be forced to encounter the tasks Genius looks after, which would be too overwhelming to handle. Our Genius is a given to us at birth, a guardian angel that is separated from us, yet exists within us. It deals with the issues our Ego and conscious mind wish to not worry with. The pumping of blood, digestion of food and movement of muscles are under the control of Genius. Small decisions are made by Genius, like the side we part our fringe or what colour shirt we wear. There is no logical reason for it, but it must be that way; our Genius demands it. We have to please our Genius, and in turn, we please our self. To meet Genius is too confrontational, as we would find and discover the thousands of insignificant things Genius takes care of. Genius “protects us from enclosing ourselves within a substantial identity and shatters the ego's pretension to be sufficient unto itself.” Genius is impersonal to us and acts as a guardian. It is essential to us, without it we would not be able to function as human beings.

The etymology of ‘genius’ has developed from its original Latin meaning to the contemporary understanding of the term. Contemporary linguistics talks of a genius as someone worthy of great honorific value, and often very aged, or dead. To claim genius status is for only a select few. It also talks of mental intelligence or achievement, rather than of physical success (ie, sport). The hero and genius sit in a similar space of worship, yet they are not the same thing. A hero is recognised for a particular achievement, whereas a genius is seen as an overall intelligence. This is not the genius of concern however. The Genius of concern is the impersonal being that exists within each person, but does not belong to us.

Genius is of the mind, yet the mind is not aware of it. Giorgio Agamben writes that our mind is “a force field of tensions whose antithetical poles are Genius and Ego. This field is traversed by two conjoined but opposed forces: one that moves from the individual to the impersonal and another that moves from the impersonal to the individual. The two forces coexist, intersect, separate, but can neither emancipate themselves completely from each other nor identify with each other perfectly.” When comparing Freud’s analysis of the ID and Agamben’s explanation of Genius, a similarity is made that both the ID and Genius act of the unconscious mind. The ID works on instinct, with the aim of avoiding pain and gaining pleasure. It seeks to find what we desire most, without concern for consequence. In the ID, "contrary impulses exist side by side, without cancelling each other out.... There is nothing in the ID that could be compared with negation... nothing in the ID which corresponds to the idea of time."

Like ID, Genius exists without the initial influence of Ego. Genius is less instinct based, and more of a guardian that makes small choices and provides advice for our benefit. Agamben’s Genius talks mainly of an external god, or genii, that exists in us. It is our personal caretaker. Genius’s origins in Roman culture refer to a god, a spiritual figure who watches over us.

When concerning our self with contemporary society, it is difficult to avoid the constant surveillance we are under. At any one point, guards, public servants, security, CCTV and staff may watch us. Whether we are being watched live is not an issue; it is the possibility of being watched which affects our behavior. Jeremy Bentham designed a prison named the Panopticon, which allowed the guard to look in on all inmates in their cells at any one time. The design was a circular building, with a guard tower in the centre and cells around the outer walls. The blueprints were architecturally designed so that inmates were not able to see if they were being watched. Bentham’s design functioned in such a way that inmates would practice self-discipline for fear of being caught


Michel Foucault wrote of the Panopticon as the ideal form of punishment. In his book Discipline and Punish; The Birth of the Prison, he analyses and interrogates the different forms of punishment and disciple through the modern age. He looks at torture and public executions as the old form of punishment. His contention is that these forms of punishment slowly died out because the public became disenchanted with the state-based power of discipline. Where public execution and torture used to be a spectacle of entertainment, it had become a place in which the people would feel sympathy and admiration for the victim/criminal. This begun to create conflict between the masses and the state in which riots often took place in support of the prisoner. Foucault writes that due to this, public execution was non-economical and the political cost was too high. Thus, a gradual shift to prison occurred as the new form of punishment.

Foucault’s argument is that this new form of discipline was not confined to prisons, and it begun to exist across society in schools, hospitals, military institutions and factories. His argument is that a power play between hierarchical ranks emerged. This in turn created “docile bodies” that are people who function in the factories, hospitals, etc. He writes that in order for docile bodies to be controlled, the institution must practice constant surveillance on them, which in turn internalizes individual discipline within the workers. He writes that this molding of discipline must come without excessive force, and through observation. With this in mind, Foucault found Bentham’s Panopticon prison to be the ideal prison as it functioned on surveillance, rather than physical force. Foucault argues that the unequal gaze of guard and prisoner causes inmates to self-discipline and in turn, behave while incarcerated.

“Hence the major effect of the Panopticon: to induce in the inmate a state of conscious and permanent visibility that assures the automatic functioning of power.” Foucault writes of Bentham’s theory that “power should be visible and unverifiable.” In the Panopticon the prisoner will always have the central tower of the Panopticon in sight, but never be sure when he is being looked at. Bentham’s planned for venetian blinds to be installed over the windows in the central tower, as well as zigzagging partitioned walls, rather than doors. This ensured no light was changed by the opening of doors, and no sound was made, thus protecting the guards position.

Foucault’s praise of the Panopticon’s efforts to internalise self-discipline through its method can be seen in a broader societal context today. His question “Is it surprising that prisons resemble factories, schools, barracks, hospitals, which all resemble prisons?” discusses the similar way in which many established institutions we use are aligned along similar principles of control and power. The doctor sits higher than the nurse, who in turn instructs the patient on how to behave in hospital. The CEO directs the head of areas, who direct the area supervisors, who direct the supervisors, who direct the floor workers in a factory.

The panoptic gaze exists in the street with constant surveillance under CCTV cameras, police, guards, security and the public. We live in a constant state of surveillance under the panoptic gaze. Like the Panapticon, we are unsure whether we are being watched at any one point. The constant threat of possibly being caught of a crime sways us from committing, nor entertaining the though of committing such crimes. This method of control is used tactically by police with regard to the operation of booze busses. Although aware that there may not he a high percentage of catching drunk drivers at certain times, buses and random breath tests are set up at all hours to scare the population into obeying the rule for fear of being caught. The Panoptic eye acts 24/7 with regard to police control of society.


We are content living in a panoptic society, yet it does concern us somewhat. Through institutions like schools and hospitals, an order is placed, and should one wish to partake in an activity, they must only follow in suit. At school, a child is submissive to their teachers and parents, who impose rules and processes they must follow. This structure is aimed at providing direction for the child, who will achieve success if they follow. When stimulated, the child will excel at a fast speed, learning and developing vital skills. When bored or under stimulated, the child will seek alternative ways of expression to entertain themselves. This often comes out via fits of rage, crying, yelling or ignoring instructions. These actions can be largely attached to the ID’s call for amusement. This natural drive for attention is somewhat balanced out by the child’s Super Ego, which in turn is modified by the Ego as the middleman. The child’s actions are still largely affected by the ID, which will prove through the sight of the childs emotions.

When following in suit, our Ego is often satisfied with the structure provided for us. We are not always affected by the Panoptic gaze that is placed upon us, but sometimes it can we overwhelming. CCTV cameras are coined by industry as protective devices, intended for our benefit. This description is often enough to satisfy us. At times however, our Genius notifies us that all is not at equilibrium. It informs us that we are a victim of surveillance. If a man sits alone at a train station, the stationmaster is aware of his every move via the CCTV screen in his office. The man is unaware if he is being watched at that point, however the lack of people around indicate to him that the station master may have seldom tasks and is watching him for entertainment. At this point, a power play exists whereby all power lies psychologically with the stationmaster. The man’s Genius is aware of the situation, and as his guardian, informs the man of his unsafety in that position. Agamben writes of Genius as a being that is impersonal to us. As a secondary being, it is under the Panoptic gaze that Genius finds itself informing us of our position of safety. Genius is not pleased in an unsafe position, and to please our self, we must first attend to Genius’ needs.

“If it seems to be identified with us, it is only in order to reveal itself immediately afterward as more than us, and to show us that we are more and less than ourselves.” Agamben would argue that the Genius of a prisoner in Bentham’s Panopticon would be on constant high alert. It would be aware of the uneven gaze at all times, and in turn, would advise the prisoner on how they should behave. Although this is unpleasant for the criminal, Foucault argues that this is a successful method of control. Agamben writes that we should please our Genius to satisfy our personal wellbeing, however a penitentiary institution is not intended to be a place of comfort. Foucault would support the Genius’ discomfort in the Panopticon.


We modify and change our behaviours in society based on the Panoptic gaze. Josh Harris predicted this in his experiment “Quiet” in late 1999. Harris theorised that with the development of the Internet, we would begin to put more of our lives on public display until we self-consume ourselves. In Quiet, Harris built an underground bunker in which over 100 people lived, with no exit, for 30 days. It was broken up by the Police in the early hours of New Year’s day at the turn of the millennium. CCTV cameras filmed the participants at all times and each participant had a personal TV in their sleeping-cubicle in which they could watch other participants. They were given free accommodation, food, alcohol, firearms and drugs. Harris aimed to make anything possible for the participants. The beginning of the experiment witnessed timid behaviour by the participants as they were highly-concious of their constant surveillance, however as time passed, they begun to lose interest in the Panoptic gaze as they became used to it; nudity, verbal and physical fights, sex and social groups begun to form. By the end of the 30 days, much resemblance of society had been lost as the participants were acting out in seek of attention. The participants were psychologically tortured by the no-rules setup of the compound, and the heightening crescendo of madness. Through Quiet, Harris proved how willingly we are to trade our privacy for the connection and recognition we desire. He predicted a social movement before the rise of sites such as Myspace, Twitter, Bebo, Friendster and Facebook.

Harris followed Quiet with a secondary project where he and his girlfriend lived under 24 hour electronic surveillance at home. He had cameras and microphones installed in every part of his house (including the fridge and toilet) which were streamed live to a website where viewers could interact with Harris and his girlfriend via chat. Much like Quiet, the project was successful in its infant, novelty stage. However, through the progression of the project it caused tension in the relationship between the couple. After fights, the couple would log on to separate computers to see with whom the viewing public had sided with. The relationship had become a performance of sorts, for an online audience. After a period of time, the couple ended their failing relationship and Harris’ girlfriend moved out. Harris continued the surveillance while living alone for a further 2 months, yet the dwindling number of fans (numbers went from over 2000 logged in at certain points, to 10) and sadness caused by the failed relationship caused his slide into depression. At this point, he ended the project. Like Quiet, Harris proved that a life lived in public becomes too external for the person involved, and inevitably will fail.

“Lions and tigers used to be kings of the jungle and then one day they wound up in zoos - I suspect we're on the same track.” Harris chose to ignore the advice of his Genius in both experiments he conducted. Through doing so, both lead to a downfall, and ultimately, failure. His ID was dominant in the experiments as it called for attention and greed from his fans. Although somewhat balanced out by his Ego, his persistence after failure proves his choice to ignore the advice given to him by his Genius. Post break-up, he made a conscious decision to keep the website live, even though he knew it was affecting his mental wellbeing. If we live too much of our life in public, it will no doubt have negative effects on us.


Our understanding of Genius as a word is limited. The contemporary etymology behind it deems a genius to be of great honorific value. The Genius as a personal guardian is not widely understood by the population. We understand the concept of Genius, however label it differently. Christians refer to Genius as a guardian angel and in Iranian angelology, it is referred to as Daena. Regardless of our definition, Agamben’s analysis of Genius is seen as separate to Freud’s ID and Ego. As Agamben writes, our antithetical poles are Ego and Genius, yet neither can exist without the tension provided by the other. When concerned with the Panoptic gaze that is ever present in contemporary society, Genius plays a role as a guardian. Genius informs us of our position in relation to the ‘guard’ of Bentham’s prison. It functions as a protective third eye. This is present in the analysis of prisoners who practice self-discipline for fear of being caught. Their Genius informs them of risks they must not take, and in co-operation with it, their actions are modified to please it. We understand our Genius to be an impersonal protector that deals with details our mind wish not to concern itself with. Although we never meet our Genius, we interact with it via our choices to heed its advice. When living under a Panoptic gaze, our Genius is increasingly important to us as a third eye.