Culture: how does it work?
Lovers of culture generally know that it has been around for a while. It hasn’t gotten any better though. Nowadays, just about everything that is outside the realm of necessity indulges in a rather peculiar use of the freedom that comes into its own in cultural matters.
But first to the exciting question of when the business got started. Culture got going exactly at the moment when time was left for it. And that was when guys and gals were done with the necessities of procuring their means of subsistence through work and its productivity increases without the day being over and the Sandman sending them to bed. This already shows that culture is an extremely relative thing, as economic necessity is quite variable; it depends on the arsenal of means by which an upright-walking club outsmarts the rest of nature and defines its needs. These constitute a custom that is totally dependent on the mode of production; the discoveries of the archaeologists clearly show that certain precursors of our leisure society already moved on to cave painting after achieving ludicrous success hunting and gathering because they had no qualms whatsoever about the ball bearing not being invented yet. So we owe it to the relativity of all culture that it got started so early on.
The fact that culture so wildly blossomed forth looks like a miracle at first glance. After all, the couple of ideas that were added over the course of millennia, and led to progress on tools such as shoe fashion, on building materials and means of transport (horsepower), did not simply benefit leisure. In the first place, they expanded the realm of necessity; no longer did people only have to be hunting and gathering, they could also do some pottery-making and cultivating, hammering and forging. That the Muses still got such a break is due to a culture-laden whim of history. What the productive forces did not yield, the production relations made possible. The lame achievements when it came to producing material goods were hardly able to give every household the abundance of goods that gives wings to the mind to build pyramids, pluck sensitively on the lyre, and think up parables. Nonetheless, the division between “responsibility” and work, the exercise of rule, which makes productive efforts in the reproduction of society one thing and the right to use them quite another, brought about the miracle. This makes it clear that culture is a relative thing in this second respect as well. The need for Good, Truth and Beauty came into the world as a luxury, among those who were supervising the realm of necessity, managing their polity’s wealth, and concerned with planning and presiding over its accumulation. Even the ancients knew that the exercise of state power is a heavy burden and must not suffer from any restrictive conditions for the rulers — material affluence at the level of the time had to be guaranteed. And when one has that, one develops an interest in higher things.
Hence it wasn’t necessary for everything to be well or even only looking good in the economy for a sculpture, a melody, or a rhyme to come about. Thanks to its productive force in the relations of production, culture began its triumphal march everywhere people were otherwise practicing the wildest barbarity. One even hears of people who get a bad conscience from this, because they otherwise couldn’t immerse themselves in their uplifting pleasures of meaning and form in all conscience. But that culture became the exclusive fun of those who had the say-so and a couple of possessions? Not even this ugly accusation holds up. Intellectual and spiritual works were never aimed at monopoly, even if they have always put an enormous strain on the creative power and enjoyment of the “masses.”
The first reason for this is once again economic. For the desire for image and sound, palace, mausoleum, and verse to be fulfilled, someone had to get active. The mere desire for sensual representation of magnificent ideas glorifying the small and large empires of world history as being deserved, singing their praises as the work of the gods in office at the time, or simply testifying to the goodness of a prince, produces nothing. Thinkers in ancient Greece lamented in dialogues that kings are not philosophers and vice versa. That was very ungrateful, seeing as they owed their jobs to the need for their art. A sober look at the law of supply and demand could have easily opened their eyes. Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece, and Crete were definitely no different from Byzantium and Florence: rulers desire culture, but it is delivered in all genres by cultural workers, who form their schools.
The second reason leads away from political economy at last. The need for spirit and dignity, the demand for monuments to give the interregnum of the time a blossoming character, is certainly an “end in itself,” but as such tremendously bent on being noticed. In any case, the sponsors of all culture have never intended to enjoy the products of their patronage privately — it was always a bit important for the sensory or pure ideas to be devoured socially, nationally, that is, universally. If generations were wrecked on the job at the pyramids, then at least the others immediately recognized the honor of their race, together with that of the royal house, in the tetrahedra afterwards. A marathon is not a long-distance race but an exemplary effort for one’s homeland that should be put to verse, and was. Culture may have been an urgent desideratum for the ruling managers of the occidental lands of all culture areas — but it was always aimed at being consumed by the subjects. No matter that the latter have no say or means to order a temple or a sepulcher — in every era they have always wanted to hear a rhyme about having nothing to say.
So in its “function” by which it brings something to all irrespective of social differences, culture is beyond criticism. But its messages again reveal it to be an extremely relative thing. Its history consists of a huge collection of testimonies to which social characters have achieved how much in the operation of the Absolute Spirit.
More difficult than the question of where culture comes from is the problem of how it works. Very early on, it worked quite easily: here a portrait of the fourth scion of a dynasty, there an inspiring oracle, a nice war song, a few formulaic prayers — and that was that. Rulers and priests additionally ordered a few armlets from the craftsmen, an occasional monument, and altars, so that the industries they subsidized also became richer in experience in dealing with the recalcitrant material — and everyone was greatly pleased when regarding the exquisite productions.
Later on, demands became higher. With the skills of production, needs grew; through military travels abroad, people became acquainted with the riches and techniques of the various barbarians, and of course also with their sometimes pleasurable customs, rugs, horses, and women. Now many a statesman wanted a beautified report of the wars for everyone to hear about them; whether the national club had good luck or bad was to be communicated to the gods, who now had to bring more than just good weather and fertility. Since a lot of things weren’t working out quite right yet, it was a matter of course for the now supported guild of those who knew how to sing and recite to give some thought to this as well. An enormous bout of philosophizing took off, while Penelope devoted herself to spinning on a vase with her maids, which is characteristic of the ancient world. As are their oracles, temples, and hexameters.
Still later — the Christian God had made an impression by there being no other besides him anyway — culture climbed to new heights in church construction that by far surpassed the yields of contemporary agriculture. Knights roamed about the medieval landscape, and at courts there were minstrels, troubadours with many a ribald ditty. But the contemplative was not neglected either: crucifixes and icons were to be had from the Urals to the Atlantic, because crusades and other missions had led to many a change. Now people were philosophizing under the sign of the Trinity, but of course in Latin and therefore always mindful of the ancients. Bible translations in all tongues were causing a sensation, along with heathen material.
Due to the multiplication of cultural achievements that then took place, it is impossible to even remotely do justice to the following periods; how should such a brief cultural history be possible without neglecting in the most terrible way the significance of the songs of Igor or the Nibelungs, of the cathedrals and sculptures following on their heels and leading straightway to Renaissance and humanism?
What is clear is that our ancestors definitely knew how culture works! And that they achieved more and more despite unchanged principles in the field of their social conditions and services, so that they eventually no longer knew for sure what their works were for. They increasingly dreamed up nonsense about their cultural contributions, but that enormously boosted their creativity.
This has led today’s creators and viewers of culture to commit a grandiose, tragicomic fallacy. Spellbound by the rich abundance that has been accumulated in cultural history, they have got the idea that culture comes from colere [Latin: cultivate]. This is not true, since culture comes from somewhere entirely different, as reported above. But it is a real challenge. If the etymology issues a command to tend, guard and cultivate, this has to be followed after all. And the object that a culture freak attends to once he realizes he is destined to cultivate is also clear. It is culture which comes from colere.
In this cockeyed way, we have gotten so far at the end of the second millennium that a third of the whole business consists in cultivating tradition. Entire sciences busy themselves with not only sifting through and cataloging the handed-down inventory; they revere it, and swear that they have one discovery after another to report without which things of today and in hindsight are absolutely “unthinkable.” By that, they never mean the productive power of knowledge set free in the wake of the rulers’ desire for culture — many an idea of those assigned to provide works of edification has constituted a fundamental geometric, physical, or agronomic insight. Cultural types are interested in Newton’s physics at best as an accessory and “expression” of his conception of man and God! Researching culture’s family tree never involves the rather banal recording of achievements that directly or later became part of the “realm of necessity,” the economy, because they were means for it. One knows one’s stuff: what has been cultivated is always at home in the sphere of good taste, of the profound ideas of humanity and their illustration — i.e., clearly distinct from the world of work. (This is not at all opposed by the fact that well-meaning friends of the people are now and then prepared to speak of peasant, worker, or folk culture: these experts have merely discovered that even ordinary life is managed with a good dose of questions and answers about deeper meaning, i.e., ordinary people are also susceptible and that does them honor!)
The elements of the productive force of knowledge that culture spawned, including the inventions in construction and war technology, are grandly mentioned, in the modern veneration of the dead, in order to acquire significance. One sees oneself as a guardian of culture, i.e., in the role of heir, so that every cultural asset from days gone by is stuck with the quality of being a heritage as its most outstanding property. The inheritance is accepted by a proof that justifies acquisition of the asset. The continuity in which the professionals and amateurs of the superstructure position themselves requires proof of kinship, and that, in the field of Good, Truth and Beauty, is always to be had by demonstrations of congeniality.
This procedure, which makes no secret of its intellectual egotism modeled on the greed in ordinary life, is shameless in two ways.
Firstly, the expectant heirs are not at all ashamed with their interpretations when they discover that the worst piece of junk in the handed-down inventory becomes sublime through their understanding of it. In the circulating construals of ancient art and philosophy, grown-up people of the 20th century stoop to the level of the works and thoughts of cultural workers of yesteryear who possessed two to five “ideas” (God, struggle, harvest, dead ancestor, evil spirit, queen) and were still having a pretty hard time presenting these earth-shattering notions. For modern adorers, it is not enough to register and decipher the old productions or figure out why and how they came about. After all, such a sober assessment would not permit that amazement and admiration that testifies to the interpreter’s ability to feel at home in the canon of cultural goods that archaeology and philology have unearthed.
One mustn’t find anything about them foreign, absurd, primitive, tedious, or stupid. If need be, their relativity in view of the development of productive forces at the time is recalled in order to put the “achievement” in the right light and afford the modern searcher for deeper meaning the pleasure he is so keen on. First he wants to make himself competent when it comes to appreciating the cultural object so that it shines back, with the laboriously produced glow of its significance, on the person who knew how to illuminate it so congenially.
Thus, one is by no means respecting the fruits of one’s tradition by entering a basilica, finding the angels and crosses pleasing to look at or too fat, perhaps considering the techniques, the proportions, etc., and then going back out and getting something to eat. Not to mention appraising the intellectual content of Christian writings, which deal extensively with heaven and hell; no professor studying Greek philosophers would dream of concluding how meager their ethical considerations of what is permitted and prohibited in thought and in life are. He will more likely arrive at the assertion that this kindergarten of moral thinking contains in a nutshell exactly the thoughts that he himself regards as the most vital and most brilliant. No one is afraid of any suspicion that a 20th-century thinker can’t exactly be too bright if he is forever grappling with the childish and gullible pieces of wisdom that an Indian, Greek, or medieval Christian managed to figure out ages ago. Culture works the other way around: one cultivates it by demonstrating like crazy on oneself how much it is in force.
Secondly, the co-opting geniuses are also not ashamed, the other way round, of doing away with an obvious mismatch between their intellectual life and what the objects of their worship are expressing, by simply missing some quite decent achievements. The appeal to tradition, which is bent on proving kinship, even offensively professes to be out to subsume when, especially in matters of literature and philosophy, it proceeds to regard a way of viewing — one’s own, original — as suitable. What for, this they openly declare. The method, the homemade point of view, the current approach “suggesting itself” today is of course supposed to “wrest” messages from the handed-down material that this material would never be able to convey on its own. The examples are legion, as they say, and stand around in mile-long libraries. An educated person is accustomed to seeing all poets and thinkers differently in the aftermath of fascism, so that some of them, through their thoughts, turn out to be actually responsible for the “disaster.” The world will readily be seen upside down, and many a professor always only experiences one thing in his interpretations: what gets him worked up about today’s world and challenges him to deep thought is exactly what was already on Balzac’s or Dostoevsky’s mind. That Kant and Hegel were grappling solely with the problems of their bread-and-butter-scholar successors, most certainly not differing from Heidegger and Habermas in that respect, is deemed by academics in the field to be a worthy report on reading the ancients. Actually, only their interpreters laboriously figure out today what and how they were thinking, because their predecessors had too little “awareness” of their own methods. As already mentioned: this technique of creating congeniality passes over many a decent idea, while — like the first shameless variant — not bothering with any scrutinizing judgment; it is rid of the distinction between true and false and can thus be sure of one success: the proof that in the high-flown nonsense of today the smart “legacy” lives on alongside the stupidest things.
But there is also a reason for these zealous dealings with the legacy. After all, the result of history and of its achievements is definitely “us”; in this way, cultural tradition-seekers emulate very faithfully the point of view of their colleagues in the profane history department. That the rights and obligations, the major and minor missions of “us” moderns come from history, which no one can sneak away from; that the causality of past events, rather than any economic and political will and interests of a very present-day kind, is responsible for how things work, is the credo of the usual view of history, which sees nothing but mandates in the progress of power and rule and the vicissitudes going along with it. These mandates are political in nature and relate to the demands of the nation both domestically and toward the rest of the world. That twofold shamelessness in the way of thinking prevails in this field of culture as well: no one shies away from deriving the recipes for how to proceed from the “achievements” of the oppressors of the past — conversely, the decision-makers of yesteryear, sometimes entire nations, are accused of precisely failing in matters that they most certainly did not know about, that is, the programmatic ideas of today. Nevertheless, a few robust abstractions from the historical circumstances, from the differences, make the feat possible; Athens and Sparta, Rome, and all the German empires are proof: dividing a country like Germany is bad — and it doesn’t matter at all that history, when viewed as the ongoing rectification of divisions, is all about war.
The “us” that cultural tradition-upholders single-mindedly head towards is nothing else. With their efforts to present “us” as the product and legitimate trustee of the finest works of the human spirit, they make an outstanding contribution to fitting out “man,” “life” and “spirit” exactly as is the human spirit’s due alongside and in addition to its economic and political services. The lie in their abstraction is very simple: it ignores the relativity of culture, instead discussing it as the purpose, the main and universal concern, that the human race must pursue without wasting any time. Preservation is a duty, and the merit thereby acquired is the great distinction of having culture. As if business and state force only paid off, but then quite enormously, when not only the government and money but also culture ‘ruled,’ the superstructure faction of modern class society indulges in a brutal idealization of what is to be deemed essential. It acts as if the greater or lesser amount of culture were the signature of a society and its ups and downs, judging the worst barbarity of past and present by this criterion, i.e., by how much time it has for sculpture, for drums drumming and pipes piping, and for the art of creating rhymes.
And the rulers are quite happy to be measured by this standard — they tremendously appreciate the meaning of life, which presents itself as a considerable heap of objectified good and beauty. Such objects, together with the well-preserved oldies, testify to the fabulous value of life, as it makes its way in a cultural nation. Providing and maintaining of culture is thus always a state offer for dealing with the question of the nation’s deeper meaning, an offer that is open to citizens separately from the “questions” of earning a living, finding a place to live, marrying and dying; that creates a few jobs; and that brings all praise and thanks to the kind donors.
Pomp and Circumstance
Statesmen, who are always also in search of good reasons for their rule, find in the world’s modern capitals a little cultural splendor to be just as impressive as did the rulers and priests of Babylon in those days. After all, the effort already testifies to the quality of the polity by representing overabundance — one need only forget over what. This compliment becomes even weightier due to the abundance being mobilized not for just anything, but for aesthetic marvels. So they are willing to fund a considerable number of culture commissioners and the associated activities — they also get a portion of glamour personally out of the state cutting a fine figure.
This culture business has two departments, one spectacular and one institutionalized. The latter is called “education” and is concerned with cultivating the nation’s cultural heritage, always in consideration of the children’s age, at the various levels of the selecting that hierarchically sorted educational institutions represent. As a result, almost everyone has once learned a few lines of poetry by heart and can count on the assurance, given to him by a teacher to take on the journey through life, that Goethe and Schiller are super. Some let their school diplomas cost them the study of several dramas, including an examination of whether they have understood the moral repercussions properly. There are also class trips to churches from two or three epochs, and history class is almost as moronic as a university lecture. At the universities then, there is the terribly original, ever-identical struggle to find the meaning that was packed away in the various cultural genres apparently entirely because of us and for us. There are no dissenting ways of dealing with the canon of relevant disciplines, although the methods of finding meaning, their emphasis, and especially the preferred “aspects” form a merry, pluralistic mess. In a modern university, this does not come from state censorship of what is taught — a disturbance of public order is only detected when a school teacher or university lecturer is caught at a wrong political demonstration. No, here culture is so free that it keeps itself clean through its more or less prominent representatives. They notice immediately if someone is not drawing his arguments from the duty to esteem his objects, and they always express their repudiation in the form of the commandment to comply with the methodological rules for how to argue in a free academic world. This hygiene in the academic treatment of culture works wonderfully, from seminar presentations to the postdoctoral qualification process, so that every question of attitude becomes a question of the attitude that needs to be placed on record in an academically controlled form. Here, too, the administrators of heritage are totally unmoved by the fact that, according to their criteria, the authorities they love to cite (let’s say Leibniz, Fichte, Kant, Hegel and such) would not get a single credit from them for their performance. This is indicated with absolute certainty by the way the greats of bygone days are only spoken of with formal respect in order that the contempt for the couple of correct thoughts they had make way all the more for the epigones and their objectivity-disregarding cult of their message.
As for the spectacular department, the democratic state loves it just as much as its predecessors did. In the first place, it is superior to them anyway because it has achieved more in every respect and moreover lays claim to the cultural embellishments of yesteryear as having the prime attribute of paving the way and setting the course for itself. Thus, anniversaries of buildings and of the births and deaths of recognized greats are turned into true orgies of represented national stupidity, which keeps a rendezvous to honor the state’s need to propagate that “we would be inconceivable without this work or that person”; or "we owe ourselves to…," and that’s the point. Conversely, the democratic state — which of course goes with capitalism, where culture of all qualities obviously becomes a business with quite differently structured price categories — also insists on getting involved in the creation of culture itself out of its need for prestigious representation. There are theaters and opera houses to build, renovate, and subsidize; a national film industry to promote; native hit songs to broadcast in the proper light of success on the public stations — and all that only because the right of the nation, that is, all the claims it asserts in the world of politics and business, is supposed to look like an honor earned through cultural achievements, which brings recognition.
That pleases the culture idiots, and it is not even clear whether they deliver and represent so usefully for the money — or whether they actually consider their service to the country so essential that they feel entitled to a material reward as well. There is hardly anyone who would not be happy to get a medal and stuff like that, even if it means acknowledging a bit of cultural adjudicating in state hands. There is therefore hardly anyone who would not responsibly have himself appointed to the jury. But the few people who deal with cultural matters out of individual leaning and complain about the “prostitution,” the “corruptibility” of culture and its makers when they notice the banal interplay are mistaken: the entire culture thing is not to be had otherwise, at least as a public business. The third relativity of culture, its willingness to serve, is a consequence of its second, the one that comes from the relations of production, and is only the reverse side of the recognition that every æsthete is sighing for. He certainly doesn’t have to deliver materially and immaterially salable goods, but if he doesn't have this aim he is not part of his beloved culture. Then he can forget about his contributions to “the sensory manifestation of the idea” (Hegel’s definition of the beautiful), his sketches and drafts of novels, turn to proper analysis — which would put him outside the universities — and tell capitalism where to get off. This fine thing, for example, is not possible with culture; not even when someone engages in cultural criticism, which always comes down to trying to improve meaning and form. For a critic, just as for state education moralists, checking whether a theater performance, a new play, is fun is something that belongs outside the field. What needs to be asked is rather if the work brings honor — for the playhouse, for its tradition, for “our” city’s, region’s, nation’s or Western standard. And one may also pose such questions when unambiguous spectacles warranting no further questions are held. When, for example, the Pope comes and the state greets him not with art and philosophy, not with a hymn or march, not with Nobel laureates, but with a grand coalition of its team, joined by its cultural reserve elite, with faith. (Tutankh-)Amen!
Unfortunately, the “function” of culture briefly wept over here — namely, that it is a national accouterment — is not the last word. Prestigious representation is only staged, after all, so that everyone sees it. The praise of rulers is always aimed at being echoed, at people “around the country” and abroad who appreciate the message — that is, are able and willing to enjoy the fuss and settle into the cultural home that is being offered to them, which they are welcome to confuse with their real one.
This exercise is not for everyone. Some do not get around to it because they are primarily concerned with budgeting their money and working time. In their spare time, they are entirely out for entertainment and prefer to watch a crime movie rather than a cultural program that will launch some opera production scandal. They’re certainly not missing anything. The “benefits” of culture for real life have passed them by and it is difficult to detect any mistake on their part. Others, a few, end up with a workplace at a museum or university at least, which saves them quite a bit of trouble and perhaps even allows a leaning to become a day job. As long as they peacefully study their papyri, keep up their libraries and academies, do not overexert themselves collecting word forms for the latest Eastphalian, West Frankish, or Old Bulgarian dictionary, these people and their narrow-mindedness are fairly tolerable. Things get a bit annoying, however, when employees of the national footnote, culture — just because the state won't do without them and maintains them for its greater glory — start turning a stagehand business for their rulers into something completely different: proof that they are personally indispensable; that is, when they start endorsing themselves and their contribution to a humane existence so much that they translate their “benefits” to society — benefits they don’t even know about — into the demand that everyone go along with what they say.
Pride and Prejudice
To make culture something that individuals can equip themselves with requires a habit also referred to as the formation of good taste. This skill quickly acquired in better homes, together with the effects of school education, boils down to its possessors — at every house and every street they happen to behold, every book cover and every sock, on strangers especially — posing the exciting question as to whether the particular object pleases them. Such aesthetic upbringing may end badly, but is to be regarded here only as the basis for the higher training to work. The latter is intended to establish a lasting interest in beautiful things, which initially become leisure pursuits: pictures, still or moving, painted or photographed, are supposed to be beautiful and are pleasures; the same with sounds — one has also taken piano lessons — and words no less. This paves the way for the program that one would like to study at university — and now, if not before, things get critical. For this is the juncture to embrace a mission, and thus the view that all these entertaining things carry more importance than mere entertainment. One starts wanting to create a bit of culture oneself, first secretly, then in a test run — or, even worse, to bring home to one’s fellows the deeper and true significance of the stuff. There are examples to follow in the existing culture business again. Lectures are promptly not judged by the explanations they offer, but by an unrelated criterion by the name of “pleasure” — of course an “aesthetic” standard that is maintained in a big way by culture professors, on account of congeniality with the esteemed object. Each picture is a Kafkaesque metonymy that crashes into a parked, but hermetically sealed litotes on the dead-end siding of the train station of nothingness! Each line of poetry and brushstroke a gamble that nobody has dared to take for hundreds of years since the mystery plays and the Picaresque novel, except in the Decameron! And everywhere there is humanism galore!
Once they are on this crooked path, educated individuals know how to distinguish themselves from the rest of the world, big time. And that is wrong and ridiculous in view of the nonsense they pride themselves on; but they are solidly in the right in view of the recognition granted to the stuff through the government-sanctioned staples of education and the accompanying advertisements by active culture-minders. This idea of oneself as feeling at home in a terribly momentous affair, being able to mobilize an understanding where others have to pass and can't understand a thing, is elitist. And it is by no means confined to the people who march through and actually make it into the team of expert instructors, whether at universities or on the arts pages. This attitude of participating, fairly exclusively, in the deeper meaning that others have no feeling for is also adopted into the character of every self-respecting person entering ordinary life after graduating from college: high-school teachers for sure, but most academic professionals as well. The other nasty side of this virtue is that it not only spreads demographically into the academic guild, while also finding imitators elsewhere among otherwise normal people due to the correlation between education and success; it is a vice that is by no means limited to the discussion of art and profound meaning. That is why in the twentieth century there are suddenly people “with style” who have experienced the catharsis of high culture along with their humanism and their good taste so completely that they demonstrate that they are more discriminating than everyone else in matters of manners and humor, clothes and choice of words, even when shopping at the supermarket or at the gas station. They run around acting toward everyone like influential culture testers, knowing everything about all the relevant quality standards. The decline of morals and manners once feared in etiquette manuals has already taken place. Today, no one can readily earn compliments any more by following the rules prescribed in those days, and educated types nowadays would neither want such compliments nor simply hand them out. The rules have been updated, there are techniques of self-promotion that most people adhere to under the devastating impact of culture, because they believe in them. Unfortunately, their effectiveness is ultimately again tied to the harmony — no, not between the semblance of education and one’s real esprit, but — between one’s manner and one’s objective position in the social onion, which always tapers toward the top.
But that’s not surprising. After all, culture has been a rather relative thing from the start.
And what if, in the twenty-first century, the cult of the prole enters into competition, on all television channels, with the high culture that is still being cultivated? If intellectual presenters not only proclaim the “fun and pleasure society” but also bring it about in their studios and on public squares? If game-watch parties in the national colors carry out culture not only at the opera but also by public screenings?
Well, what about it!
© GegenStandpunkt 2016