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Theodore Brita Opinions Columnist

For a good amount of time, the animated comedy television series “The Simpsons” was known as the prognosticator-in-chief in the wide world of TV shows. A quick Google search of “Simpsons predictions” provides a long and varied list of bits from the show that eventually occurred in real life, including predicting the Trump presidency 16 years before it happened. But another, perhaps less well-known comedy, has emerged as something close to or equal to “The Simpsons’” in its predictions about the future. “30 Rock,” the Tina Fey creation that was ostensibly about working on a fictional sketch comedy show but evolved into the definitive pop culture satire of its time, has an everincreasing list of jokes that accurately resemble today’s reality. Only recently, a new reality show called “Milf Manor” aired on TLC of all networks, and many “30 Rock” fans and the show’s Twitter account — which is still active for some reason — pointed out that Fey and company had already predicted the existence of such a reality show. Incredibly, the very same episode also predicted the existence of an AI. Jerry Seinfeld, which made its debut streaming on Twitch last week before it was banned for transphobia. While there is no doubt that the incredibly niche accuracy of these predictions is very funny, it also proves that the American pop culture ecosystem does not necessarily reward quality. One of the central conceits of “30 Rock” was to mock the absurdity of many aspects of popular entertainment, and the more culture resembles the world of “30 Rock,” the stranger it appears to get.

“30 Rock,” being a show about the entertainment industry, featured a litany of fictional shows and movies that were typically minor parts of any given episode but contained hilarious premises. Shows such as “God Cop” and movies like “Rural Juror” remain subjects rather than equals within the system. oppression in their home country and brings with them a new cultural norm within our borders. Or, imagine a group of people who are oppressed by the ideological state apparatus and open their eyes in an attempt to control their own narrative. It is when the subjugated people seek freedom from subjugation that the state uses its strongest form of power. Now, we are ready to discuss biopower and its control over citizens as the “living dead.” There are two important components of biopower that relate to controlling the narratives of oppressed citizens — posthumous citizenship and rightless life.

If one group of citizens becomes more “equal” to the ideological state apparatus by telling their own narratives and raising their own cultural concerns, the delicate system that the state has created to maintain control over its subjects is threatened.

It is true, of course, that there are many groups that come into the United States or develop in the United States that do not adhere to the ideological state apparatus. Imagine an immigrant who flees

According to biopolitical theory, victims of oppression and non-citizens may be more valuable to the state in death than in life. Let’s say that an American soldier is a member of a group that is oppressed within the United States. When they die, the state can claim the right to their story as a patriotic one, one of success and glory for the state. Essentially, the state can take the narrative of this oppressed citizen and refurbish it as one of glory and heroism in death. Controlling the identity of soldiers who fought in World War II and then came home to a segregated America is an example of this. So is the example of Muslim Americans who might have joined the military in the aftermath of the Patriot Act. Many were separated into a distinct form of American hero only because the United States wanted to patriotize their life stories to avoid the shrieks of terror from those marginalized citizens facing hate crimes and immigration bans based on the color of their skin or their religion. The Patriot Act, of course, was another tool of biopower, isolating many innocent Americans as suspected terrorists and constraining their freedom to unprecedented degrees. By stealing away the living stories of these oppressed citizens, the state can bulk up the ideological state apparatus and maintain control over the body politic. This is a form of “living dead” citizenship, in which the dead are kept alive only in ways that serve the interests of the state. There is also a border that is drawn between white citizens, who are given de facto and de jure living status due to their integral ties with the ideological state apparatus, and all others, who are granted parole from social death at best and often conjured into living-dead puppets for the state at worst. The latter group is restricted from ever obtaining true political power by the state’s institutions, and is subjected to oppressive policing by the state. Essentially, they are made to be puppets whose only task is to fulfill the goals of the state, and they are restricted from expressing their own goals and ambitions in ways that threaten capitalist power. Is there any way to fight back against this superstructure? Well, we can infer that the stories and individual narratives of oppressed citizens must be told by activist groups and activist politicians. These stories cannot be manipulated or forgotten, for they are the last line of defense against the superstructure that I’ve described. If they are lost, then total cultural destruction will prevail, and all but the white capitalist class will be in a state of living death. Sean Reichbach is a sophomore doublemajoring in economics and philosophy, politics and law.