the author(s) 2011
ISSN 1473-2866
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volume 11(4): 482-489
482
ephemera
theory & politics in organization
note
On boredom: A note on experience without
qualities
Rasmus Johnsen
Most of us probably remember how long and dreary Sundays could be when we were
kids. When I think of the boring Sundays in the little town that I grew up in, I for one
picture a world, into which someone had plunged a teabag that had been used too many
times, leaving everything blotched with a putrid and pale colour. Morrissey, the former
singer of the band The Smiths, must have felt something like this when he wrote: ‘Etch
a postcard: “How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here” / In the seaside town that they forgot
to bomb / Come, Come, Come - nuclear bomb / Everyday is like Sunday / Everyday is
silent and grey’ (Morrissey, 1988: tr. 3). In boredom the world appears empty. But at
the same time this emptiness registers as a nauseating tension, a feeling of being fed up
with the situation that simply will not pass. It is as if time itself has come to a halt and
now literally seems to be swelling like a washed up body on a beach.
Research in work organizations over the last decades have ever more often associated
human attributes and the ability of the working subject to perform as a ‘self’ with
positive organizational outcome. In this light, it is surprising that boredom, which
Kierkegaard considered a despairing refusal to be oneself, and called ‘the root of all
evil’ (Kierkegaard, 1987: 281) has not gotten more attention. In comparison to research
into stress and ill mental health at work, the phenomenon has largely been ignored.
What is more, the studies that do exist, mostly within the fields of work sociology and
psychology, rarely touch upon the experience of boredom itself. Instead they engage
with either its consequences, with the work situations that lead to it or with individual
differences that may indicate who is more prone to it. In this contribution, I want to
return to the experience of boredom and explore the curious and frustrating waiting
position that it entails in a little more detail. What I will argue is that boredom, as a
position where nothing is available for self-expression, where one wants to be active,
but does not know how to act, may be viewed as ‘experience without qualities’1
.
__________
1 I borrow the term from Elizabeth S. Goodstein’s excellent work on the concept of boredom and its
role on modernity: Experience Without Qualities – Boredom and Modernity (2005).
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Boredom in work organizations
Mentioned among negative corollaries of boredom in work organizations are not
surprisingly low job satisfaction and performance, alcohol and drug misuse,
counterproductive behaviour, depression and work-related injuries (Loukidou et al.,
2009). Early studies of work situations focused on external factors like repetitiveness
and monotonyas causes of boredom that may ultimately be harmful to worker health
(e.g. Davies, 1926; Bartlett, 1943). Later research has dealt more with the effect that
monotony has on internal factors like attention. Here there seems to be a general
agreement, that attention will deteriorate and be expressed as lower performance, when
a boring or uninteresting task must be performed (e.g. Damrad-Frye and Laird, 1989;
Perkins and Hill, 1985). Similarly, processes of formalisation and routinisation of rules,
procedures and norms in institutional settings have been found to provoke boredom,
either by reduction of the variety of stimulation or by placing limitations on what is
considered acceptable behaviour and activities from the organization’s perspective (e.g.
Fischer, 1993).
Other studies again revolve around individual differences, i.e. the relationship between
boredom and the levels of stimulation that individuals require to function optimally. A
differentiation between the transient state boredom and the more pervasive and
enduring trait boredom (Watson et al., 1988) has been essential to the development of
the notion of boredom proneness as a measurable personality trait. Farmer and
Sundberg (1986) suggested the Boredom Proneness Scale (BPS) as an instrument to
operationalise boredom as a personality trait, which has been used (along with a few
other tools like it) in personnel selection and to develop the rewards processes used in
organizations (Loukidou et al., 2009). It has been suggested for example that employees
who score high on the BPS are better suited to jobs providing immediate rewards and
should not be placed in monitoring and high vigilance jobs (Wallace et el., 2003).
Boredom as experience without qualities
Common to the research perspectives on boredom in work organizations, which no
doubt have important practical value, is not only that they barely discuss the experience
of boredom, but also that they approach the phenomenon from an angle that will
ultimately be counterintuitive to the bored. This in a way is quite understandable, for we
feel that we know what boredom is like anyway. Take an everyday situation like a late
afternoon lecture on the subtleties of film noir minimalism in Jean-Pierre Melville’s
Bob le flambeur (1955). This lecture may be very boring to me. But it may be a hit with
my more Francophile colleague, who as we make our way home afterwards cannot stop
talking about it. Boredom, in other words, appears to be a subjective interpretation of a
given situation or of a discrete object, which is waiting for us to reflect on it. Whether
we focus on the causes of boredom or on boredom proneness, this is the adopted
perspective.
But in reality this description does not come close to how the bored experience
boredom. If we ignore for a moment the argument that it might be reasonable to make a
distinction between the everyday kind of boredom in the example above and a deeper,
ephemera 11(4): 482-489 On boredom
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more pervasive experience like the tedium vitae, then Seneca’s description may help us
understand why this is so:
How long the same things? Surely I will yawn, I will sleep, I will eat, I will be thirsty, I will be
cold, I will be hot. Is there no end? But do all things go in a circle? Night overcomes day, day
night, summer gives way to autumn, winter presses on autumn, which is checked by spring. All
things pass that they may return. I do nothing new, I see nothing new. Sometimes this makes me
seasick [fit aliquando et huiusreinausia]. There are many who judge living not painful but empty.
(Seneca, 2004: 120)
What Seneca presents us with here, is not a two-stage act of receiving a neutral object
and then glossing it over with an interpretation. No organization is made by a reflection
subsequent to the experience of the phenomenon that appears. No raw material is given
external to the self-sameness of the world that makes the bored think of life as empty
(as this would make his initial question easy to answer). Rather, it is the other way
around. The unbearable presence and clarity of a world that makes the bored nauseous
in all its obviousness is conditioned by the experience itself. It is the experience of the
world as a tautology that gives him access to the ‘materiality’ of reality. In Heidegger’s
terms, Seneca’s tedium vitae is ‘world-disclosive’. The primary is not a situation in
which he ‘chooses’ how to deal with the objects that he is facing and then finds them
boring, it is his experience itself that is without qualities.
What is uncovered here is an experience of boredom that is not as simple as it was made
out to be above. We find ourselves suddenly confronted with a new field of inquiry that
is concerned with discerning and evaluating the interpretive situation, which makes the
world appear as it does and which confronts the forms and limits of our powers of
interpretation. It is a situation that reveals something about us, about who we are, where
we come from, what we hope for and – not least – what interests us. Another way to put
this is to say that in the experience of boredom, identity is turned into a problem, a
question, into something fundamentally precarious.
Time and the failure of imagination
In boredom identity becomes a problem as the teleology of the self is fundamentally
questioned. But what does it mean to speak of this experience as experience without
qualities? Consider the example of listening to music. When we listen to a melody, we
naturally take it to be a unity although it passes through different notes, pitches and
rhythms2
. To hear a melody, then, and not just the variety of single notes, presupposes
the ability to retain the already sounded notes as a context against which the sound of
the present note is experienced. Similarly, hearing this present note as one that
anticipates further musical development is necessary in order for us to experience the
whole of a melody. To listen to a melody, in other words, means being able to ‘hear’
what is not present at the moment. Husserl called this the synthesis of protention (the
anticipation if what is yet to come), presentation (the momentary impression) and
__________
2 The example of listening music is often used to describe what Husserl calls ‘the inner time
consciousness’ that established the experience of continuity. I here draw on John Russon’s use of it in
Human Experience – Philosophy, Neurosis, and the Elements of Everyday Life (2003).
ephemera 11(4): 482-489 On boredom
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retention (retaining what has just been experienced as it slips away) (Husserl, 1991)3
.
Whoever listens to a melody must come to ‘inhabit’ the music, both in order to integrate
what has already sounded and to anticipate where it moves from here. Another way to
put this is to say that experiencing music in a very acute sense entails the ability to ‘tell
time’. This synthesising capacity of maintaining as a definitive aspect of the present that
which is not itself present – the past and the future of the melody – is what we
traditionally refer to as imagination, not of course in the sense of fantasy, but as the
synthetising ability to entertain diversity within a single conscious act.
Imagination in this respect is not only proper to listening to music, but constitutes a
fundamental condition for meaningful experience as such. As John Russon puts it, ‘all
our experiences carry on something like this melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic flow
whereby one moment seems to grow out of the last and melt into the next in a way that
“keeps the tune going”’ (2003: 13). If we return for a moment to Seneca’s description,
this aspect of rhythmic differentiation is what seems to be affected in boredom. It is not
that the ‘tune’ does not ‘keep going’ – on the contrary – but the melody of the world has
been reduced to a single monotonous tone, a drone that does not change at all. In this
sense, boredom can be thought of as a failure of imagination. The result of this failure is
the frustrating feeling that time will not pass.
The experience of boredom as a rupture of the self-differentiating flow of time is very
well illustrated by the German word for boredom, ‘Langeweile’, which literally means a
long while. The title of Louis Althusser’s autobiography L’Avenir dure longtemps (The
Future Lasts a Long Time), which was published in The United States as The Future
Lasts Forever (1994), in a subtle way plays on the same experience. To the bored the
present seems to be dragging itself along unbearably, it is as if nothing leads up to it and
nothing will come of it. Along with the feeling that the present will not pass, comes the
feeling that all eternity is going to be like this, that forever is reduced to the selfsameness
and obviousness of a single moment. Althusser’s anticipation is of a future
painfully reduced to univocity. Similarly, when Seneca writes of life as empty, rather
than painful, this can be taken as an indication that boredom entails the feeling of
having seen it all. This is what it means to speak of boredom as experience without
qualities. It is an indication of the inability to employ the synthesis of imagination,
which will differentiate the present by associating it with that which is not present at the
moment. Boredom is experience without qualities, not because the bored ‘chooses’ to
interpret a given situation as boring, but because the synthetic process of imaginative
interpretation is somehow failing to ‘open’ it to her.
The expressive qualities of the social environment
Another way to think of this failure of imagination is as a call that is not answered. The
social environment seems to be demanding something, which the bored fails to reply to.
We encounter such expressive qualities – that phenomena are somehow interpretatively
charged to lead us in a certain direction – in most everyday objects. A light bulb, for
__________
3 See also Gallagher and Zahavi, 2008:75ff.
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example, directs us towards the socket in the lamp at the table we are working at.
Similarly, when we want to change lines in the Paris underground, the signs guiding us
through the metro stations lead us in the direction we want to go. After a while in the
city, we become so used to it that we hardly think about moving through the tunnels
anymore – that is until a redirection interrupts the routine and we find that we are lost
and perplexed by the rift in the steady flow of the morning traffic. Abstract situations
that are more or less standardised by culture, value and history, like important
biographical transitions (entering school or marriage, graduating, retiring or becoming
parents), carry the same kind of latent expectation that let us pass through them together
as the individuals of a community.
That the qualities of experience are not merely presented to us, but are conditioned by
the way they compel us to take a certain direction in our expectations of how things are
going to turn out, leads us toward another important aspect of the experience of
boredom. To the bored, who has lost the imaginative ability to ‘tell time’, the feeling of
intense displeasure or even disquietude that follows, may be thought of as an inhibition
registering as a need for activity, when one does not know how to be active. One wants
to do something, but does not how to act in an appropriate way to that urge. Another
central problem in boredom then is the diffuse urge to act on the demand that the
experience of the situation is pregnant with, but which the bored is unable to satisfy.
If we think again of the example of listening to music, we sometimes find ourselves in
situations in which we have to ‘develop an ear’ for what we hear. The first time most
people encounter Balinese Gamelan music, or a symphony by Schönberg for example,
they will find it difficult to make sense of what they hear. In most day-to-day dealings,
we are dependent on the routines and habits that help us cope with the situations or
objects that we encounter. We can think of such routines and habits perhaps as a kind of
‘life-support systems’ that enable us to find our way through the world without having
to make explicit reflective decisions. To be ‘familiar with’ a situation ultimately means
to inhabit it in a way that lends it form, content and relative duration. But as Peter
Sloterdijk remarks, such interpretively charged environments, or ‘atmospheric-symbolic
places’ as he calls them (Sloterdijk, 1998: 46), need to be continuously ventilated. The
symbolic air-conditioning of our life-support systems – that is our habits, routines and
traditions – that he refers to as the primordial production of every society, is a necessity
for our being-in-the-world. If we continue this metaphor, what the bored experiences is
the stale air of a life-support system that she fails to open to ventilation. The bored,
whose synthetic imaginative faculty is failing, is literally choking on too much reality,
as the experience of any kind of negativity, deferral, ambiguity or concealment is
absent.
What is worth holding onto here is that the bored does not necessarily lack the urge to
act (if we accept, at least, that the experience of boredom entails the urge to do
something, even if one does not know exactly what). What the bored lacks is the skill or
know-how to interact with the demand or anticipated fulfilment that the situation or
phenomenon requires of her.
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Melancholy, acedia and the instinct for self-preservation
The interpretation of boredom as a reaction to the feeling that one does not know how to
make sense of the immediate social environment brings us closer to its role and place in
cultural history. We are used to think of boredom as a universal phenomenon; and we
have done so here too, by drawing on Seneca’s work. But ‘boredom’ also has a more
specific meaning that ties it to the social changes that took place in modernity. The
concept of boredom that arose out of the age of Enlightenment was specifically
associated with the structural transformations of modern societies and its problems in
dealing with the decline of traditional – especially religious – ways of making sense of
the world4
.
Unlike its ‘sisters’ melancholy and acedia that resonated primarily with traditions
extending into antiquity, the notion of boredom is part of the cultural vocabulary, which
draws on the secular vision of the body as a reservoir of an abstract force that can be
depleted. If melancholy implied a deviance from the optimal homeostatic balance of
humours, and acedia despair at loosing connection with the divine, the notion of
boredom deals with the disenchantment of the world and with strategies for stabilising
identity in a constantly transforming reality. Thus, whereas both melancholy and acedia
(in different ways) were associated with the nature of the self, boredom is specifically
linked to the pressure exerted on the subject by external reality. The experience of
empty, meaningless time in this way is tied closely to the material effects of
modernisation. As a concept, boredom is configured as a vocabulary for a kind of
subjective malaise, where the romantic longing for an authentic reunification of the
meaningfulness of the world is no longer an option. While such a longing is still
palpable in much of the 20th
century writings on alienation and social critique in the
tradition of Benjamin, Adorno, Kracauer and others, boredom, as the experience
discussed above, implies a resignation to which traditional frameworks of meaning are
no longer viable. If an essential part of the cultural vocabularies of melancholy and
acedia was a longing, either for a lost time of more authentic being-in-the-world, or for
a better world to come, then in boredom the loss of meaning registers only as a
resignation to the hollow emptiness of the self and to the dull matter of worldly
experience that no longer makes sense.
This last point can perhaps be illustrated by thinking, as Elizabeth S. Goodstein (2005:
398) does, of boredom as a concept that comes close to Peter Sloterdijk’s ‘cynicism’ in
The Critique of Cynical Reason (1987). To Sloterdijk, the discontent in our culture has
assumed the quality of a universal, diffuse cynicism, the decisive change of which lies
in a new, disenchanted mode of experiencing self and world. Cynicism, according to
Sloterdijk, is the emblem of enlightened false consciousness, that is, a modernized
unhappy consciousness, where the cynics ‘know what they are doing, but they do it
because the force of circumstance and the instinct for self-preservation are speaking the
same language’ (Sloterdijk, 1987: 5). Cynicism is a reaction to disenchantment, to the
dulling of the matter of the world, which transforms the problem or question of meaning
into a ‘survival mechanism’.
__________
4 For an excellent discussion of boredom as a specifically modern rhetoric strategy, see Elizabeth S.
Goodstein’s Experience Without Qualities– Boredom and Modernity (2005).
ephemera 11(4): 482-489 On boredom
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If we return for a moment to the failure of imagination, that is, to the inability to
differentiate a given life-situation in a way that makes it a meaningful experience, then
we can think of boredom in terms of a mode of self-preservation like this. As an instinct
for self-preservation, what boredom does for the bored is to transform a threatening loss
of meaning into a lack of something. What is exchanged here is the anxiety provoking
failure to produce the know-how to interact with the anticipated fulfilment, which the
social environment requires, for the paradoxical experience of being ‘fed up with
nothing’ in which the world appears empty. In other words, what the bored experiences
as the dullness of matter and is consequently disgusted with, ensues from a stalemate
between the inability to engage with a life-situation and the latent significance of the
situation that calls her to complete it.
Boredom, anxiety and the fear of losing control
Such an interpretation of boredom resonates very well with the understanding of the
phenomenon in psychoanalysis. Here it is sometimes found in analysis when the
analysand has ‘nothing on her mind’. The bored seems to have no fantasies at her
disposal whatsoever. In reality, though, analysis reveals that there was ‘cognitive
content and corresponding feelings, but that the emergence into consciousness was
immediately opposed by ideas evoking some feeling of anxiety or loss’ (Wangh, 1979:
517). The bored analysand is caught up in a stalemate between wish and fear that
registers as the sensation of time standing still and as a feeling that nothing is
happening. Traditionally, psychoanalysis interprets this as an unconscious fear that the
wish or fantasy might lead to an action of libidinal or aggressive character – for
example the impulse to masturbate or strike out. The concurrent opposition is strong
enough to prevent any recognition of content, but it does not erase the unpleasurable
sense of pressure. Hence the analysand registers a restless and uncomfortable feeling of
boredom.
While this is not the place to go any further into the subtleties of psychoanalysis, the
intuition that boredom registers as a defence directed against the experience of a loss of
control when we are confronted with situations where our responses seem to us all of a
sudden insufficient or even threatening, is very important. As a failure of imagination
occurring when we experience the restraint of a lack of means to engage meaningfully
with the world around us, experience without qualities may very well be thought of as a
defence mechanism. The experience of boredom in this light acquires a self-annihilating
character, as it is directed not towards pleasure, but away from anxiety.
Boredom in a globalised world, where information processing becomes ever more
important, and the ability to ‘just be yourself’ is more predominant than ever, for this
reason is an issue that should be dealt with beyond the mere questions of cause and
effect. The experience without qualities, as the deficit of a self that struggles to come to
terms with the diffuse normative demands of the contemporary world, needs to be
scrutinised on an experiential level with the same severity of attention as that of more
conventional pathologies like stress and depression, also in organization and
management studies. After all, the one who just kills time out of boredom forgets who
holds the knife.
ephemera 11(4): 482-489 On boredom
notes Rasmus Johnsen
489
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Rasmus Johnsen, PhD, is Assistant Professor at the Department of Management, Politics and Philosophy,
Copenhagen Business School.
E-mail: rj.lpf@cbs.dk
the author
references