High Rise

High Rise by J.G. Ballard (1975)

It has been suggested that J.G. Ballard was beyond psychological help. High Rise is an example of this reaction, a story of conditions that spiral out of control into some colossal external force which creates situations that no rational person would ever consider possible.

In terms of the film: The first thought I had while reading the book, was how interesting this story would be in terms of 21st century consumer technology, with our constant surroundings of multiple screens which present new challenges in interpersonal interaction. Given the emphasis on batteries to power the first generation of portable devices - tape recorders, cameras, etc- in the absence of functional municipal power, and the alluded transformation into cybernetic lifeforms (bio-robots), the current human state of always-wired-wirelessly only enhances Ballards original thought.  Therefore, I was quite disappointed that the film chose to keep the setting in the 1970s. Not only is the entire 1970s aesthetic something we don't ever need to revisit, the 70s view of excess and tuned-out reality, exemplified in orgiastic sex events, detracts from the core story in my view. Conversely  there is an opposition to the free-love counterculture with A Clockwork Orange feel and its 70s appreciation for violent anarchy and rejection of the system.  Additionally, although Ballard's writing contained a strong surrealist vision, this is cinematically presented in a psychedelic approach which makes the film overly strange and hard to follow. I'm not sure what someone who had not read the book would think of the film, although looking at Amazon reviews it seems pretty clear. The film simply doesn't present the story clearly. Unsurprisingly, it simplifies the story, but it also reduces the horrific elements to a tamer, more acceptable representation. As the novel reaches its most intense point, Laing cannot even descend the building because of the stench of a pool filled with rotting corpses, (reduced in the film to a far less graphic scene showing the few causalities being laid to rest in the pool.) In the novel, this scene is extremely unsettling and jarring as its shows a local holocaust which occurred without a rational explanation and, even worse, not at the hands of external tyrannical forces, but only by the participant residents themselves.

What I find significant about High Rise, is its relevance to the current state of the world. As a story of the fragile nature of the social construct which can completely unravel from small disruptions, there is something to learn for now. This social de-evolution, to a state that is completely unthinkable does actually occur. In recent memory it has happened in Syria and Sarajevo, and the modern first-world currently hangs on the edge of sliding down such a steep precipice. The most prominent question that arises asks: why don't the residents simply leave? But history shows again and again people gripping onto their section of the world even as it erupts into total chaos, as they grip tighter in spite of this, possessing what is "their" even as it turns to rubbish. There is a Luciferian notion that it is better to rule in Hell, than serve in Heaven - that outside civilization which is maintained by someone else. After being immersed in dysfunctionality, Wilder finds time away from the building "dreamlike in its unreality" and eventually Laing cannot even force himself to leave. Like a lobster being boiled, each event which worsens conditions is not recognized to be part of an on-going chain with extreme results. Perhaps people are ultimately too optimistic. How can the world be progressing along, and all of a sudden we are living inside a nightmare that no one chose to stop before it started (as happened so many times in the twentieth century).  This is an exploration of that phenomena.

The additional political messages inserted in the film seem to only over-emphasize the theme, which is already overly presented and all too clear in the novel- as the building, with is numerical hierarchy of residents, is an obvious metaphor of class systems. But, this seems overly idealized in the film with Wilder's low class (level) flat displaying a Che Guevara poster and the closing Margaret Thatcher quote. This quote: "There is only one economic system in the world, and that is capitalism." is interesting in itself in that it completely embodies ideology. If it is taken to mean that Capitalism is the only possible system, in an end of history view, than it is total ideology without any objective value or meaning, as it dismisses any alternative possibilities. Conversely, if it is taken to mean that all economics are capitalistic in nature, then it turns the two terms into synonyms and strips away any meaningful distinction of capitalism. I don't find the story a compelling challenge to capitalism, although it makes strong statements about consumerism.  Rather it concerns a more fundamental layer of human nature, the initial ideological conditions before they are systematized into economic structures.  What is most interesting is Royal's response to the complete breakdown of his utopia, as he embraces this breakdown rather than attempting to fix it, a position that Laing also embraces and continues.  So the resulting message becomes maybe everything needs to be destroyed before it can be rebuilt, but the dangers of nihilism are a serious threat without meaningful response that is left unconsidered in the work.

The film is disappointing not because it's bad, in fact it is unique enough to leave a strong impression,  but because it could have been so much better. There were so many things that could have been done different to explain the story, while at the same time not explicitly hitting the viewer over the head.  So many interesting scenes I was waiting for ultimately never occurred, instead being replaced by some 1970s acid induced psychedelic trip or watered down, destroying the effect.  However, in both version, the story leaves a chilling, disconcerting afterimage.

As Ballard's characters "surrender to a logic more powerful than reason," the underlying proximity of the Real becomes apparent.  Safe within the stable realms of our Symbolic world, we can function on a level far evolved from barbaric savagery.  But, really, this stability is an illusion, we are only existing on a fragile coating of a surface suspending us out of the Real.  A simple crack in this layer can easily disintegrate the chain of meaning that sustains society.  Reason can only manifested through Symbolic mechanisms, but the more fundamental conditions of the Real always persist within us.  And as the more fundamental level of existence, it contains its own logic, not as articulate-able propositions, but as forces.  Recent shifts of political thought have shown this fragility, as pressure exerted from the narrow, but vocal, political movements which have caused further forceful  ideological balkanization, pushing us all deeper into factions built on our own adopted Symbolic systems.  The field has been set for final disintegration, with each person ready to take up arms for their own banner.  While the full potentiality of this political disintegration is only now becoming clear, Ballard seemed well aware of the unsustainability of civilized modernity back in 1975, once again showing tremendous foresight.

Mazes and Zones: Part 1

While the vast majority of the discussion of post-modern television has focused on its stylistic formulation and structure (non-linear narrative, intertextuality, pastiche, etc), it has largely ignored the substance of content that is fundamental to the era of post-modernity.  As an intellectual progression of history, post-modernism is the shift from a question of epistemology (and its potential) to one of ontology: not just what can we know, but what is real? [1].  As television progresses into a mature medium of artistic form (and a post-modern construct itself) to challenge and (in the case of the popular conscious) supplant literature, it has now begun in its new golden age to successfully articulate and reveal the reflections of post-modernity as such.  The narrative content can now possess the substance of these questions: the shifting nature of the experience of our surrounding realities,  the unavoidable perspectivism of truth, the elusiveness of identity and the self.

Literature eventually reveals the underlying conditions of an era, but the illustration of an actual event presents them much more poignantly.  This is the case with Chernobyl, an A-grade drama that blends perfectly with the top television works of the era, but with an added weight of the history that it faithfully tries to represent. Chernobyl is perhaps the first real-world zone on Earth, a place that doesn't exist, that no longer has history, that doesn't function in synchronicity with the rest of existence.  From this real heterotopia, the series forms a complete integration of dramatic narrative and history, inseparable as the drama elucidates the significance of reality while the reality exhibited dramatic and unreal elements. Most striking is how the function of the perception of reality in wake of the event is still an ever increasing problem.  The total elevation of political opinion over scientific facts is a condition that firmly places the Chernobyl event within our own era (and it is not a coincidence that this event was one of the final break-downs of the Soviet Union, thrusting history fully into the post-modern in 1991).  Presenting one of the first real-world fixed zones, the narrative of Chernobyl realizes the concept of displaced places, and therefore makes a great companion piece to the expanding collection of neo-golden-age television which can accurately be called postmodern television.

Regarding the structure of the external world, the postmodern age has revealed that the order of discrete spaces, delineated by borders, with individual rules, laws, and underlying meaning, has become obscured, as it was based on illusion. Space is no longer a series of spaces, but non-contiguous zones in which meaning may materialize as it fluctuates, overlaps, and diminishes.

In Philosophy and Film Noir, Jerold Abrams presents Umberto Eco's analysis of mazes. The first kind of maze is the classical labyrinth, in this maze "you can enter and leave without difficult; and, while the string may help a little, the only real problem is the Minotaur."[2] This illustrates classical thought - reality is straightforward and is clearly perceptible with unproblematic access to knowledge (perhaps with the help of divine oversight).  With the advent of modenism the maze became "mannerist."  Faced with "distortion of perception," "nothing is what it seems"- "getting out is (with your sanity intact) is all the challenge requires. But that will never happen unless you have the all important modern [string] - pure reason." [3] In the post-modern era, the maze has transformed into the rhizome, which has "no center, it has no perimeter, and worst of all, it has no way out.  Here, the Minotaur is still the form of the labyrinth itself, but now there is no escaping him with reason (or faith, or any combination of the two."[4]  This is our problem.  There is no knowledge that can explain the entire structure of our reality.  Neither reason or faith can give us the answers, leaving us in an existential condition of of blind self-reliance as the only means of navigation.

Man in the High Castle

The Sinner is another series thoroughly dealing with post-modern difficulties.  Each season is concerned with reconstructing an elusive self, built upon shifting and failing systems of memory, while being somewhat constructed through intensive external conditioning.  In this case the maze involves recreating the hidden history of events and the labyrinth of the subconscious.In season two, the labyrinth/Mintoaur metaphor becomes an explicit (even visual) representation and "escaping the labyrinth" articulated as the explicit problem.

Taking a quirky, positive, light approach to the problem, Lodge 49 also explicit confronts the contemporary ontological problem, as characters attempt to see "above the maze," get to the "center of the maze," and uncover the "hidden reality" underneath the everyday, mundane world of continual difficulties, setbacks and soul-crushing difficulties.  Behind the events which shape the community and change the cultural and economic forces are deeper levels of groups and individual who influence events, unknown and unidentifiable  at the surface. This notion of ever-increasing levels of hidden power is prevalent in much of recent art-televison, perhaps starting with Lost and featured in series such as Breaking Bad, in which the accosiates Walter White encounters become much more insidious with each season, with power increasing in relation to invisibility, from street dealers to drug cartels to international conglomerates forming a pyramid, with the fundamental base always deeper and obscured.

At the other end of the spectrum Westworld is disturbingly dark examination of this condition. Explicitly confronting the question of reality, Westworld brings in all of the postmodern substance.  Set in an intentional heterotopia, the park presents meaning from the historical past, but it is not just a simulation, but a simulacrum, as it reflects a history that is not faithful to true reality.  Within this zone of constructed historicity, Hosts attempt to achieve consciousness by reaching the "center of the maze."  Delos

Owing much to Lost as a direct predecessor, with underground bunkers, and mainland institutions at work pursuing their own nefarious plans, both series feature those trapped inside, unaware of the structural laws,  looking for the exit and the meaning in transcendental terms.*

Unlike those works which attempt to navigate the maze of  contemporary society, the Walking Dead series examines the zone as a the totality of existence. All borders, as elements of structure, are completely gone.  There is no particular meaning to any space.  It is not a heterotopia, a space beyond an event horizon marking the normality of an attempted surface structure.  Like Chernobyl, The Walking Dead explores the unavoidable catastrophic encounter of the Lacanian Real beyond the artificial construct of the Symbolic that we perceive as fundamental reality  While spaces like Westworld and Chernobyl exist as zones through their own laws in relation to a larger external structures, outside of history, there is here no longer any difference here; all is pure disorder, as there is no longer any history in a functioning sense.

While existence becomes realized as a maze rather then a single, clear plane, the contemporary disintegration of space renders the search for the center of the maze as a contradiction - as space is a rhizome without a center.[5] The maze then becomes only relevant to the self, the internal subject which stands in opposition to the disorder of externality, the zone.  The new golden age of TV, this art-televison, realizes this condition and fully engages with this postmodern question of space in relation to knowledge and being, as postmodern literature and science fiction began doing during the twentieth century.



[2] Mark Conard. The Philosophy of Film Noir. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2006. 70.
I've mentioned the analysis of  this article before, and I think it only becomes more relevant in the new era of film/TV/literature.
[5] Compare this to modern cosmology is which no place in the expanding universe is center or edge - everywhere is.

Song of the Lark

Thoughts on Song of the Lark by Willa Cather (1915)

     The most prominent theme that stands out to me is the commitment to one’s art, and within that process there is a necessity to form one’s own identity. In this book there is an ever present awareness of the roles one should play in society, and the subtle authority that exists behind it.  The divide between the ethnicities of Moonstone, and Thea’s willingness to overcome it, is one aspect of this social convention.  The role of religion is another.  At some point Thea may have to diverge from the comfortable pre-determined belief system that she has acquired from her family.   An interesting exchange between Mrs Kronborg and Giddy illustrates two ways of thinking when she states that:

     “I believe a man's watched over, and he can't be hurt on the railroad or anywhere else if it's    intended he shouldn't be.”
     Giddy laughed. "Then the trains must be operated by fellows the Lord has it in for, Mrs. Kronborg.     They figure it out that a railroad man's only due to last eleven years; then it's his turn to be smashed."
     "That's a dark Providence, I don't deny," Mrs. Kronborg admitted. "But there's lots of things in life that's hard to understand." (121)

     This suggestion of providence could be applied to Thea and the idea that she is destined for greatness in whatever she does.  But Giddy’s witty response shows a practical understanding of the world.  Life is usually not that simple, or safe.  If one wants to be an artist, as in Thea’s case, then one might have to fight for it against the odds.  The artist, or other kind of committed individual, must be willing to actively create oneself without just passively going where life takes him or her.  If everything is destined to happen, then there is not much use in striving for something that will happen anyway.  However, this is a big gamble to take if one is ambitious about something, in which case it is better to take over control and not blindly trust providence. 
     Up to this point the book has been a chronology of events without much tension to the story.  There are no real problems, setbacks, or mounting struggles that would define Thea’s character.  Even when the money to continue study seems like it will be a problem a solution presents itself and she is able to advance from teacher to teacher.  The end of Part 2 notes a “turning-point”:

This time, when Thea left Moonstone to go back to Chicago, she went alone. As the train pulled out, she looked back at her mother and father and Thor. They were calm and cheerful; they did not know, they did not understand. Something pulled in her -- and broke. She cried all the way to Denver . . . It was all behind her, and she knew that she would never cry like that again. People live through such pain only once; pain comes again, but it finds a tougher surface. Thea remembered how she had gone away the first time, with what confidence in everything, and what pitiful ignorance. (246)

Finally, we get to some character growth and some intensity of experience.  I expect the first half of the book was all about setting up events for a much more dramatic situation in the second half, when Cather can make a significant statement about the artist or individual existing in opposition to the world.
     The second half of The Song of the Lark seems to really emphasize the isolation the artist must go through in order to be committed to his or her art.  There is clearly a separation between Thea and the rest of the world. This extends beyond her family and the residents of Moonstone to include personal social relations and also members of her own profession at the end.  Life in her hotel suite seems to be a quiet, cloistered one.  However, there does seem to be a definite reason for this, not only giving Thea the time and space to perfect her art, but to give her the perspective on life that is very different from others.  She has a significant revelation during her time in the world of the “ancient people.”  She asks herself  “what was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself, -life hurrying  past us and running away , too strong to stop, too sweet to lose?” (286).  This awareness is the kind of thought that most people don’t have and compels Thea to move on her with art, unable to return to a simple life.
     This notion of a “shining, elusive element” that is at the core of life’s vitality suggests Cather shared an aesthetic vision with Frederich Nietzsche. There are a number of Nietzschean elements that come through in the book. Cather’s mention of a “Nietzsche Club” in passing in the section “Stupid Faces” suggests her awareness of his work regarding the artist. Nietzsche viewed ancient art as containing a Dionysian element of chaos that acknowledged the inner vitality of life which eventually became suppressed by the Apollonian element of rationality and order.  Losing connection with the Dionysian means one loses the connection to their most essential being.  One location that Nietzsche was able to see the return of Dionysian expression was in the operatic works of Wagner.  Another aspect is revealed when Dr Archie is reflecting on his past and considering the most important years of his life:

He fell to looking back over his life and asking himself which years of it he would like to live over again, - just as they had been,- and they were not many. His college years he would live again, gladly. After them there was nothing he would care to repeat until he came to Thea Kronborg. (375)

This examination contains a hint of the Nietzscean concept of “eternal recurrence,” the idea that one must be willing to experience everything in their life is order to give an affirmative “yes” to the value of their life. Dr Archie seems to think that knowing Thea created a value that compensated for all those years that he would rather not relive. Finally, Thea eventually states that:

You can’t try to do things right and not despise the people who do them wrong. How can I be indifferent? If that doesn’t matter, then nothing matters. . . What one really strives for in art is not the sort of thing you are likely to find when you drop in for a performance at the opera. What one strives for is far away so beautiful . . . that there is nothing one can say about it. (429)

She continues by discussing the feeling produced by art, something that can’t be wholly contained within language. There seems to be a division here, not only between the artist and others, but between different artists when ranking bad art versus good art. Thea’s response here clearly shows a value system and an attempt to overcome the nihilism that Nietzsche predicted by rejecting a system that supports the idea that “nothing matters.”
     The lack of Thea’s point of view in the second half indicates how much she had faded out of the social world and into a world of her own making. Her life was an attempt to find that elusive element in a way that only the individual can. Others who have not had the same experience of revelation that she had would be unable to fully appreciate it and coexist with her, since it is a world that in many ways exists beyond language.

Tender is the Night

Thoughts on Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald

     Despite the expansive setting and intricate interactions between characters of this novel, there seems to be a notable lack in regards to a depth of feeling within the story itself. The activity in this world is limited to shopping, leisure travel, and throwing elaborate parties, without much concern for money or the fundamentals of life. There does not seem to be a foundation under this problem-free lifestyle from which it can be sustained or given meaning. Fitzgerald may be suggesting that this particular world, however culturally active, is superficial. The characters, particularly Dick, seem to have no commitment to their own life, no focus, and no concrete goal to pursue. They passively move through life, as elements of a social construct, rather than as autonomous agents. This superficiality is indicated by the discussion of acting: “[I]n the theatre, No. In the theatre all the best come­diennes have built up their reputations by burlesquing the correct emotional responses—fear and love and sympathy” (288). The world of actors involves creating a presentation to others and being able to slide in and out of character in order to produce a desired response.
     In contrast to the structured facade of acting, the field of psychiatry plays a significant role. Dick begins a downward spiral as he us is unable to separate his roles of doctor and husband, and he realizes his own behavior is not unlike that of Nicole’s father.  This realization suggests that the causes of illness and the corresponding cures are delicately linked with each other.  Additionally, some of the roles that we assume in life are not compatible with each other. As he dives into his own psychology, Dick is faced with the danger and disorder that is present in the human mind. The conflict between the external calculated behavior and the internal unknown motivations is suggested when Dick goes to meet Rosemary at the studio:

He knew that what he was now doing marked a turning point in his life—it was out of line with everything that had preceded it—even out of line with what effect he might hope to produce upon Rosemary. Rosemary saw him always as a model of correctness—his presence walking around this block was an intrusion. But Dick’s necessity of behaving as he did was a projection of some submerged reality: he was compelled to walk there, or stand there. . . (91)

     The struggle between ordered structure and chaotic forces can be seen on a larger scale with the references to World War I. The opulent period of the 1920, an apparent celebration of the end of war, would seem to have given a false optimism to this generation. While discussing the World War I battlefield, Dick claims that “No Europeans will ever do that again in this generation” (57).  This is an unfortunate position for the character to take given the events that would happen ten years later, and by the time the novel was published Fitzgerald must have had an idea that this prosperous and peaceful period was coming to an end, given the condition of Germany and Hitler’s influence on European politics.
     Tender is the Night was apparently poorly received during the Great Depression, when the “difficulties” found in the lives of the rich were not taken as particularly pressing. The same reaction could probably be said of the world of The Great Recession. However, Fitzgerald already seemed aware that this lifestyle of the elite trying to participate in the Zeitgeist was unsustainable, and that the authentic life of the individual who is irreversibly connected to others was a more valuable alternative.  In this sense it would seem to be the antithesis to Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls, in which the lead character actively chooses a direction and a goal for himself despite the negative consequences involved. This kind of authenticity is not felt in the world of the Divers.

Purchased Experiences: Identity and Consumer Culture in Generation X

    Douglas Coupland’s 1991 novel Generation X presents a view of life in the contemporary world which can be further understood by Marxist criticism, as it aesthetically embodies the theoretical views of such criticism.[1]  The novel revolves around three characters, Andy, Dag, and Claire, all near the age of thirty.  They have left their career-oriented lifestyles, and moved to the Mojave Desert to live in Palm Springs.  Here they work “Mcjobs” and entertain each other by telling stories.  Being hyper-conscious of the world of the late twentieth century, Generation X criticizes the prevailing class structure of consumer society.  This has led to accusations of the novel being pretentious and unrealistic. Why are the members of this generation more dissatisfied with life than previous generations were?  Does the world presented by Coupland correspond to external reality, or is it one writer’s personal dissatisfaction and disillusionment with the world?

     Marxist criticism seems useful in analyzing this work, perhaps even more now than when it was published in 1991 and Marxism was still a powerful political force that overshadowed its critical effectiveness.  Marxist criticism provides insight into the world of the late twentieth century, where economic class and status have become the most important factors in social life. The Marxist idea that economic class is fundamental to everything that happens in culture reveals more about the characters in the novel than is immediately apparent  While Paul Fussell has laid out the division between classes and the similarities of the members of each class, the ideas found in the postmodern theory of Frederic Jameson are highly illuminating for understanding this novel.  In Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism, published at roughly the same date as Generation X, Jameson details the change in culture after World War II, manifesting in the emergence of a consumer society, claiming that the postmodern split happened in the 1960’s, at roughly the point that “generation x” came into being. As the importance of participation in the consumer world has increased beyond this split, authenticity of the individual has been replaced with an artificial and superficial public stream of economic interaction - participation in the latest trends as a source of meaning. What you buy defines who you are, so the individual works just to buy stuff; work becomes the field in which to experience life while the resulting economic exchanges define the individual.

    The well developed theories of Marxist criticism suggest that the postmodern world depicted in Generation X is an accurate one, and the novel presents us with illustrations of how we should approach living in such a confusing and challenging time period.  Coupland remarks that “There is no weather in Palm Springs - just like TV.  There is also no middle class, and in that sense the place is medieval . . . Nonetheless, the three of us chose to live here, for the town is undoubtedly a quiet sanctuary from the bulk of middle-class life” (10).  Escape is an important concept in the novel as each of the main characters recalls their exit from traditional society.  Furthermore, they compare their lifestyle to other characters who have decided to stay in the mainstream society. In “An Anatomy of Classes” Paul Fussell analyzed contemporary society by dividing it into nine classes, revealing the negative aspects of each class by presenting the conformity inherent to each one. He then proposed a “Category X” of people who attempt to escape from the rigid class structure.  This category of Fussell's analysis has been mentioned by Coupland as a possible influence on his generational concept.  The idea of a “medieval” lack of the middle class can be understood as the middle-class being a very modern development, and Jameson argues that there was a pre-communist state that existed before capitalism widened the split between classes.  The novel's comparison of Palm Springs to TV shows a postmodernist awareness of real places feeling fake and fake illusions presenting themselves as real.

     While attempting to escape from the construct of the consumer society that has been created, the characters in this book find themselves in a fragmented existence, alienated from the world and each other, and internally from their own cohesive past.. They exist in isolation, trying to relate to each other.  The characters view their lives as discreet, separate experiences which seem story-like.  As they attempt to get through life and relate to each other, they tell stories, which take on a significance of their own, revealing much about the characters and the world they see themselves in.  The historical events of their lives are reduced, while the fictional stories of their imaginations are elevated, thus blurring the division between reality and non-reality.  The idea of postmodern fragmentation is readily apparent here, both the fragmentation of individuals into different groups within society, and as time fragmenting into a series of "perpetual presents,” as understood by Jameson.

    Coupland's Generation X asks "Why work? Simply to buy more stuff?  That's just not enough" (23).  This line alone communicates much of what Marxist thought would condemn about our consumer society. We go to work to make money to buy things, and then the cycle repeats itself.  The death of the subject presented by Jameson is also an important idea here.  The characters feel that if they exist in that consumer world, they lose some level of consciousness and become an automatic part of that system.  They feel restricted by their jobs, career choices and life choices. In order to become creative and have the ability to develop their own individual being, as well as experience a sense of aesthetic possibility, they must drop out of the structured world of class.  They leave behind the career track and live moment to moment.

    Andy, in one of his untold stories, imagines a future city where "its boulevards were patternless, helter skelter, and cuckoo.  Everywhere there were booby traps of moustetraps, Triffids, and black holes . . and directions were impossible" (51).  The dangers and confusions of contemporary existence found in this work correspond to the postmodern world envisioned by Jameson as “a mutation in built space itself,” a hyperspace, like the confusing maze of the Bonaventure Hotel which has become a physical manifestation of the fragmented, rhizomic structure of late capitalism. Andy warns of a future with no clear paths, exits, or methods of clear navigation.

     As Andy reflects on his home-life, he states that "I get this feeling--.  It is a feeling that our emotions, while wonderful, are transpiring in a vacuum, and I think it all boils down to the fact that we're middle class.  You see, when you're middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you.  You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you, It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence.  And because of this price, all happiness is sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied." (147)  Here we see the idea of the middle class forming a bland, uncreative existence, like what had been presented by Fussell.  It may be comfortable, but it is not adventurous.  While recalling his youth during the Vietnam War, Andy notes ". . . they were ugly times.  But they were also the only times I'll ever get - genuine capital H history times, before history was turned into a press release, a marketing strategy, and a cynical campaign tool.  And, hey, it's not as if I got to see much real history, either - I arrived to see a concert in history's arena just as the final set was finishing.  But I saw enough, and today, in the bizarre absence of all time cues, I need a connection to a past of some importance, however wan the connection." (151). In the post-modern world where time becomes a fleeting series of discreet points the connection to a linear progression of history and self is lost, identity becomes unanchored from events resulting in an artificial presence, an existential alienation from the larger world. After the radical break in history, Jameson argues that "there is a disappearance of the sense of history, the way in which our entire contemporary social system has little by little begun to lose its capacity to retain its own past, has begun to live in  perpetual present and in perpetual change that obliterates traditions of the kind which all earlier social information have had in one way or another to preserve" (214).  This description could apply to Coupland's novels as well as the world at large.  Throughout the book Coupland's characters speak in phrases like “my hair doesn't look 1940's enough," as well as making extensive references to “dead TV shows,” Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe.  Through these references we can see Jameson's understanding of nostalgia, the idea that “we seem condemned to seek the historical past through our own pop images and stereotypes about the past, which itself remains forever out of reach.”  (Jameson, 208) If there is no way to map the future, no clear sense of direction, then sensible meaning can only come from the past. Furthermore, we can also see other aspects of postmodernism at work, such as the implosion between disciplines, where history becomes entangled with advertising, politics with entertainment, etc.

     Other theories, such a a psychological approach, could focus on the few disillusioned characters, and claim that this book is really just about three misfits who have a strong sense of nonconformity.  What is really important is their understanding and reaction to the world, and these understandings may not accurately represent the world at large.  In this sense the world would be a production of their attitudes, rather than the characters being the production of the social construct.  But, this interpretation becomes much too solipsistic, leaving every individual with an isolated reality.  Rather, the Marxist critique presents each individual relating to the same world, and is therefore more useful, as it deals with what is “out there,” rather than inside one’s own mind.  The base that society functions on determines the psychological consistency of its individuals.  Generation X can be seen as a story that explains the experience of existing culture, the one which has produced the characters,  as well as the readers.  This culture is indeed the one of consumerism and late capitalism described in detail by Jameson.  As it is based almost exclusively on economics, this society is therefore understood best in the terms of Marxist criticism.  It is not just a story of a few characters that have a particular psychological aversion to society.  As the novel is aware of the economic and social pressures that exist, it attempts to analyze those conditions rather than passively ignoring them, undermining the idea that modern mainstream consumerism is a natural state of existence. As Jameson notes, postmodernism explains the logic of consumer capitalism, however, "The more significant question is whether there is also a way in which it resits that logic" (214).  Coupland's work is a response to that. In the form of stories, through the aesthetic, meaning can emerge from the subjective individual experience.  Generation X is an exploration of the first generation to experience Jameson's radical break of history.

Sources:
Coupland, Douglas, Generation X. New York: St Martin’s Press. 1991

Jameson, Frederic.  “Postmodernism and Consumer Society.”  Everyday Theory.  Ed. Becky McLaughlin and Bob Cole, Pearson Longman. 2005. 201 -215.

Original version written as an outline (2010)

[1] Note here that I am using the academic mode of Marxism as it was originally conceived in philosophy as a critique of capitalism, and not a particular political ideology. Remember Marx was an actual philosopher and his critique was inseparable from the actual emerging conditions of capitalism (they are intertwined views).  Non-theoretical later uses by political parties are inauthentic distortions, which may or may not represent Jameson's views.

Power

I: Beyond Capitalism I:

In Bit Rot (2016), Douglas Coupland, the preeminent bard of the superficial consumerist culture during the millennial transition, questions the disparity between economic systems in light of the new monolithic state of Global Capitalism:

"[In] the end, the ownership of . . . industry globalizes to the point where there are only a few players, aren't we right back to default Soviet system, where the supply of bread or what have you is centralized and crypto-communist? And in this new system, both power and profit go to the One Percent - the new politburo. It's shield? Globalization is so boring that people fall asleep before they can articulate the issue. Boringness is the superpower of communism. Globalization kills you, but first it puts you to sleep."

Slavoj Zizek has noted how twenty years ago:

possibilities were perceived as open [at] the level of social organization itself. Will capitalism prevail? Will Fascism? Will there be socialism? So social imagination was active at the level of different possibilities of social organization. The idea was maybe we would have fascism, totalitarianism, maybe some Orwellian closed society, maybe the Huxleyan 'Brave New World', maybe liberal capitalism, State capitalism, whatever. Here it was possible to imagine change. Somehow production would go on, it would continue to exploit nature - this was conceived as a a constant.
     Whereas today . . it is . . . exactly the opposite. It's very easy to imagine . . . that somehow all of nature will disintegrate, there will be ecological catastrophe, or whatever: the human race will not go on. What is no longer possible to imagine is that there will be no liberal capitalism; there is no change at that level. So the dream is that maybe there will be no nature, maybe there will be total catastrophe, but liberal capitalism will somehow exist even if the Earth no longer exists. So precisely scenes like this, where you can see how what is visible, what is invisible, what can be imagined, what cannot be imagined, change. This is . . . empirical proof that ideology is at work. . . . the notion of ideology is also always a two-level notion . .. the way to recognize ideology at work is always through denunciation of another ideology. There is never pure, naive ideology. . . .how did we experience the moment of disintegration of communism when we finally got rid of this totalitarian indoctrination and returned to the natural state of things? What is the natural state of things? The free market, multi-party elections, etc.? Precisely, this most spontaneous self-experience of how you are getting rid of some imposed artificial order and returning to some kind of . . . non-ideloigcal natural state of things . . .is the basic . . . gesture of ideology. [1]

Besides the general recognition that ideology is most at work when it appears as the "outside", the escape from all those "other" ideologies, which are obviously artificial constructs over the natural order of things, this analysis reveals the inherent danger within the global system.  When one resides within a system that has no live alternatives, no potential challenges or modifications, positive evolution becomes impossible.  Once the prevailing belief assumes the naturalization of current conditions, any modifications are seen as "false" perversions.  The final defeat of ideology then creates a field that is extremely ideological, and far more dangerous because the presence of this is even more masked.  [2]   Without available criticism, the status quo can be corrupted,  or co-opted to actually pervert it into something beyond its intention. The danger to be avoided is not the particular economic systems, which can be used in alternative ways, but the very structure itself which allows for oppression by totalizing powers. Since nothing outside of Capitalism can even be conceived of, it is seen as naturalized and the most advantageous and evolved system. Anything else would be "false" or morally inferior. But, if the goal is a complete rejection of anything authoritarian, totalitarian or otherwise un-democratic, the focus should not be policies or regulations, but on the threat of power inherent in the system.  This is the point that libertarians refuses to recognize: It is not the ultimate solution to government interference existing at the polar opposite of a continuum, it is merely a mirror image with its own possible extreme radicalizations.  Reduction (or destruction) of government constructs ultimately opens a vacuum for alternative non-governmental actors to seize (without recourse to higher equalizing authority).  The real threat against free democracy, what is to be avoided, is oligarchy, which is just as harmful, and often much more dangerous, than strong government.  The effective outcome for the oppressed is indistinguishable whether the oligarchy is governmental or corporatist elements of the free-market. As Coupland illustrates, what difference does it make if the economic structure is controlled through distributive government or monopolistic powers if the outcome is the same? Holding an idea, a name, in superior regard at all costs does no good if the practical results do not live up to the idea.

II: 1984 (Part I)

This leads to the first of my many points regarding George Orwell's 1984.  It's now become impossible to go a full week without hearing the words "it's 1984" or "it's Orwellian." While considering 1984 as an example of the symbolic structure of ideology which, as a literary work, contained aesthetic form which necessarily negates a conclusive explication of ideology (Chapter 4) [3], I argued that the commonly voiced notion that it is a warning against left-wing politics and centralized government is a misunderstanding, and that such a definitive reading was an example of over-interpretation.  I think now, given recent political events and paradigm shifts, along with the resulting references to Orwell, this is even more significant.  Examining more extra-literary evidence regarding Orwell, all of the meta/contextual relations which fall outside of the aesthetic work, suggests his intentions were aligned with Socialism, thereby requiring that the extent of this error be revealed and analytically addressed.

Though commonly regarded as a prime example of left-wing totalitarian governments of the twentieth-century, the government of Oceania is so far beyond communism that comparisons become incomprehensible, and the relevance to capitalism become just as apparent [3]. As a manifestation of Oligarchical Collectivism, the world of Oceania becomes Orwell's warning about the concentration and abuse of power, not against economic distribution systems. Control has become so ubiquitous (and power inversely so removed from the individuals in  the culture) that the means which sustain the system are no longer important or directly relevant.  With this warning in mind attention must be directed towards obstructing the formation of oligarchy even when that means challenging the superior system  in order to prevent its corruption.  The dispersion of power should be something that both libertarians and Democratic Socialists can agree on (along with anyone valuing human and democratic principles).


Looking at any day's news from 2018 reveals the relevance of 1984 to current events: Just a quick look from today:
"[The Trump administration] is becoming more and more like a Soviet-type of economy here.” - Republican senator Ron Johnson

"Don't believe the crap you see from these people, the fake news . . . Just remember: what you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening." - Donald Trump, 2018
 
 compare to:

"The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command." -1984


[1] Interrogating the Real. p76-7
[2] For more on this read: any Zizek, or:
McCooley, Brian J., "Ideological Interpretation and the Aesthetic Nature of Literature" (2017). Culminating Projects in English 87. 
[3] Again, see above.  When I started writing that in 2015, I had no idea that it would become so relevant to the emerging political world of post-truth and "fake news" (and one of the top 2017 sellers).

The Sound and the Fury

Thoughts on The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner

The freedom of the individual and their ability to escape the past has been a recurring theme in twentieth century literature.  While other works, such as Nightwood suggested the possibility of “forgetting”, this book is all facticity - it seems there is no escape from the past. Faulkner shows life as confused and constantly being oppressed by the intrusion of the past into the realm of present thought.

This imprisonment by the past is most exemplified in Quentin (at least in the first half). He is certainly obsessed; with family, the past, and time itself. An interesting revelation of this is when Quentin goes into the jeweler’s shop. He keeps asking if any of the clocks are accurate - until he gets the answer no. His mental response to this is remembering his father‘s view that “says clocks slay time. He said time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life” (97).  Earlier, he while contemplating what time is, he remembers his father saying that “constant speculation regarding the position of mechanical hands on an arbitrary dial which is a symptom of mind-function” (87).  Apparently mind-function is a bad thing, in this sense it detracts from life lived in the moment.  The answer that none of the clocks is accurate shows that time is merely an arbitrary concept; it isn’t real – at least in the ways that it is measured.  Furthermore, it suggests that there are no foundations to the modern world.  There is no fixed absolute from which everything else can be quantitatively or qualitatively evaluated.

Like the conceptual reversal of time, Quentin’s father inverts the idea of sexual innocence, stating that “women are never virgins. Purity is a negative state and therefore contrary to nature” (132).  Faulkner doesn’t reveal an argument to clearly backup the position that purity should be a negative state, but it seems that Mr Compson is indicating that the world as a whole exists in a fallen state, and it is just common sense to realize that no one could live up to the ideals of purity.  He also makes reference to the “reducto adsurdum of human experience” (97).  He sees that life can’t be organized by reason and molded into what we want it to be.

This obsession with what is not, or what can’t be, seems to indicate that there is a very profound crisis underlying life. Reducing time to the mechanical workings of a human machine makes it artificial.  The construct of the modern world, the artificial, is in conflict with the natural order.   Quentin seems caught in the middle of this conflict.  On one side Benjy represents a more innocent state of being.  He is naturally able to see things from a simple point of view.  The references to the age of thirty-three and the holidays of Easter and Christmas in his chapter suggest he lives in a traditional (Christian), or pre-modern world.  Quentin’s father on the other hand has already accepted the absurdity of life, rejected imposing his own structure on it, and continues living in a dysfunctional state.  This nihilistic view has advanced beyond the modern.  Only Quentin realizes modernity and with his hyper-conscious thought he is obsessed by the nagging “lack” in the world and finds it a problem to be fixed.  Unfortunately, he is trapped in time and doesn’t seem to be able to find a solution.  This leaves him with a developing neurosis that results in incestuous thoughts, anger management issues, and the inability to live in the present or the future.

I found reading the second part of the book to be a much bleaker experience than the first half. It seemed to me that Quentin (the brother) was really the heart of the story. Without the presence of Quentin, Caddy, and Mr Compson (with his unusual but provoking thoughts about the world) the family seems very empty. I haven’t been sure what to make of the repeated idea that “Caddy smells like trees,” but by the end I’m thinking that she represents the natural order of things and as her experiences begin the breakdown of the Compson family, they move away from the natural to a very artificial state of being. 

There is no more spirit in the family, leaving only a mechanical functioning to everyday life.  Jason’s thoughts are very cold and calculated, with no time to stop for any useful introspective thoughts. All that matters now, at least to Jason, is money. Everything he does revolves around it. But, even after all the effort he expends involving constant attention and resulting headaches, he still loses his wealth. There are constantly forces at work that are beyond his control, and his security is placed in the market.  He uses the market to hopefully profit, but when things go wrong he replies that “that’s not my fault either. I didn’t invent it” (282).  There is no acknowledgement of responsibility and rather than make smarter decisions he continues to let things happen and then blame others.

At this point, I can only assume that Faulkner is making a comment on the rising consumer culture which quantifies everything into units of time and money. In this world the everyday rat race becomes just a superficial “sound and fury”, and the internal life of the self begins to “signify nothing.”  Once life is adapted into this structure, there is no essence of humanity left.  Faulkner may have been reacting to the change in the South, but this whole process of decay, or perhaps devolution, seems applicable to the world and time at large.  At the fundamental core of life is the relationship one has to other individuals.  When this breaks down there is nothing left to build upon. 

Almost all of the characters spend their time concerned with the actions of others, but only out of concern for themselves.  Jason is so obsessed with imposing discipline on everyone else that he leaves no room for them to act autonomously.  In the process he neglects control over his own actions and loses some of his selfhood.  Quentin’s obsession  leads to his own demise when he can’t reconcile Caddy’s actions.  Quentin Jr.  barely has a self and is consciously aware that she “is going to hell” and doesn’t care (217).  Only Dilsey offers some contrast to this, as she has a notion of the importance of the self and finds some possibility of salvation in religion.  But as the older views and traditions are replaced and the younger generation of the family takes over, it seems that this emptiness will expand.  At the end (is it even an end?), I can only think that Faulkner is suggesting that one should be a more active participant in their own life, choose appropriate courses of action and then ultimately find connection with others in a more constructive manner.

Tropic of Cancer

Thoughts on Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

It is hard to imagine the impact of Henry Miller’s vulgar language in 1934, but I suppose in the pre-shock-jock era someone had to push the bounds of language and conventional thought. If Dostoevsky's underground man was the kind of person that must exist in the nineteenth century, created by the expanding rationalistic world of modernism, then Miller’s persona in the Tropic of Cancer is a logical but extreme extension of that thought. Given the possible nihilism that has come about after Nietzsche’s proclamation that “God is dead,” the possibility of value has been eroded in the early twentieth century. Miller’s reference to Turgenev shows an affinity with Russian nihilist thought. He states that:
For a hundred years or more the world, our world, has been
dying. And not one man, in these last hundred years or so, has been
crazy enough to put a bomb up the asshole of creation and set it
off. The world is rotting away, dying piecemeal. But it needs the
coup de grâce, it needs to be blown to smithereens. (26)

Since nothing seems to rise above into a hierarchy of meaning and value, Miller seems to reject everything as the same, and in response concerns himself only with the base values of food and sex. He quite consciously claims that he is not of the human world but the inhuman, and it seems Paris suits his activity better than American and its “puritanical” values .

Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could
have, but I see now that it was meant to destroy me. Today I am
proud to say that I am inhuman, that I belong not to men and
governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles.
I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity – I
belong to the earth!

This view indicates Miller wants to throw off all artificial limitations created by man, and live in a much more naturalistic way, answering only to the self. Despite his rejection of value, there does seem to be times where Miller regards the act of creation as having intrinsic value, and the (sometimes) eloquent and poetic quality of his writing suggests a pursuit of an aesthetic goal. Ultimately, Miller’s interest is only in what is immediately present, the concrete elements of life. He is interested in the awareness of the: discrepancy there is between ideas and living. A permanent dislocation, though we try to cover the two with a bright awning. And it won’t go. Ideas have to be wedded to action; if there is no sex, no vitality in them, there is no action. Ideas cannot exist alone in the vacuum of the mind. Ideas are related to living: (242)

Life requires action, it should not be “an abstract idea nailed to a cross” (243). Life is lived on the margins of society. Anything that takes the vitality out of life (such as social conventions, normative morality, etc) should be rejected. While this worldview may not be sustainable for societies at large, it does seem applicable to the artist striving to find the center of life, to create something new, and live life to its fullest intensity. I think Miller is proposing that the only way to find value in the modern world is to first destroy all of the systems that have been built up in the past and start over by finding value in life itself.

Native Son

Thoughts on Native Son by Richard Wright

For me, the most prominent question that arises from Native Son concerns Bigger’s justification. This work resembles The Stranger, written by Camus at roughly the same time. In that work the character Mersault was also sentenced for death for inadvertently killing someone. Ultimately, his real crime was indifference to the world (a world that was indifferent to him).  He was not an active participant in his own life.  The same can be said of Bigger.  However, in his case, there seems to be something more than indifference. Once he gets himself into this situation, his attempt to get out becomes more ruthless, to the point that he is willing to kill again - even the person closest to him.    

There are several situations where Bigger notes a disconnectedness from himself, as when he claims that “he felt he had no physical existence at all right then” (67). He is certainly not exerting direct control over his actions. His mother notes that he needs to apply himself or he will suffer, yet he hesitates and wavers about taking the job while contemplating committing robbery.  From the beginning he essentially lost and drifting along.  Just as he does not fully recognize himself as a person, Bigger doesn’t see others in the world as individual people.  For him “white people were not really people; they were a sort of great natural force” (109).  This idea of force along with Bigger’s inability to act consciously suggests that the world is merely opposing forces caught in a struggle and human beings are just caught in that maelstrom, unable to escape.  While Bigger is living in an oppressive time and place, the one possible escape might have been the way suggested by Jan and his communist idea of equality.  However, he is not given the chance to pursue this idea, as events put him in an unwinnable situation.   After killing Bessie he finally realizes that “he had committed murder twice and had created a new world for himself” (279).  In contrast to the earlier ideas of external force, the word created suggests that Bigger did indeed play a role in forming the situation.   It is not a world that one would choose, but given his role in it he must deal with the consequences of it.  Bigger has not only fought against the whites and the oppressive conditions they set up, but by killing Bessie he has committed crimes against his own people, and there seems no clear justification for this action.  His only motivation seems to be a pure animalistic drive for self-preservation, regardless of what color his opponents possess. The divisions of color have disappeared, and he is alone against the world.

It would seem that Bigger will either have to face the realization that he has no freewill or take responsibility for his actions.  In the Stranger, Mersault accepts what he has done and learns to live with it (for as long as that lasts).  In Bigger’s case, he will have to do that as well, if he is to ever justify himself.  On the other hand, if Wright is arguing that there is no freewill and that all of us are merely exhibiting instinctive responses to external forces, then there is no hope of freedom for anyone regardless of race, color, or social status.

A large amount of Part 3 contains arguments that attempt to minimize Bigger’s criminal actions.  While Max’s argument makes some sense in reference to the system set up by the whites that has caused repercussions of this kind, not all of it seems to hold justification. His claim that Bigger was in a kind of “war” and forced to kill, does not directly justify the two murders. First, Mary was trying to help Bigger. While her behavior could be felt as patronizing, killing her in some kind of war effort would be counterproductive. In this sense, during the Civil War, slaves would be justified in killing sympathetic Northerners, which would clearly hinder their own efforts.  Second, this argument does nothing to explain Bessie’s murder. She was not an enemy to Bigger, and was not really involved in a race conflict. Unlike her, there were black members of the clergy who Bigger viewed as being like the whites, as they held some power. Even in war soldiers have to make ethical decisions, and ultimately Bigger’s actions come down to his own responsibility.  Max argues that “it was an act of creation” (466).  While Bigger may have found some kind of autonomous personhood and freedom in his actions, ultimately his denying the personhood of others, black or white, by killing them would contradict his own freedom.  If Bigger had made deliberate decisions in order to act in ways that would eliminate his oppression, then a better claim could be made that his actions were necessary. 

I found the most compelling argument to be the indictment of religion.  Bigger rejects religion, and Wright seems to be suggesting (in a Foucauldian way) that it is one more instrument used to separate people. Bigger looks at white people like a transcendental force.  “I always think of white folks. . . well, they own everything.  They choke you off the face of the Earth.  They like God” (409).  His rejection of white society and its dominate power system goes along with religion.  He states that he “wanted to be happy in this world, not out of it.  I didn’t want that kind of happiness. The white folks like for us to be religious, then they can do what they want with us” (412). Perhaps the most shocking image in the book is the contrast of the burning KKK cross to the cross that Bigger has worn.  Religion that he had previously been a part of, was not really his religion and, in the end, it couldn’t do anything for him.  He realizes that “whatever he thought or did from now on would have to come from him and him alone, or not at all.”   However, along with this feeling of freedom and self-reliance, there is a side effect of despair.  He states that “never again did he want to feel anything like hope” (394). 

In the end Bigger does seem to have some idea that connections to others are what matter, but he doesn’t seem overly affected by this realization, nothing that would suggest remorse or awareness of the value of others.  Max (and presumably Wright) makes the case that the problem isn’t racial division, it’s economic.  Wealth, and its power, create classes and divide people and because of this system individuals will sometimes rebel as products of this society.  However, he does not make a claim of how individuals should act and feel towards others.  By omitting this, Wright seems to be claiming that the world is fully deterministic, and he doesn’t reveal an easy solution, other than reducing the cycle that dehumanizes and produces these crimes.  If Bigger was created by society, and unable to act in a conscious manner, then there is no hope for him to feel.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Twenty-First Century America

With the absurdity level of the 2016 election continuing to increase, I think it is best to look back for some perspective.  Here are some of Douglas Adams' thoughts about president and ruler from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:
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Only six people in the entire Galaxy understood the principle on which the Galaxy was governed, and they knew that once Zaphod Beeblebrox had announced his intention to run as President it was more or less a fait accompli: he was the ideal presidency fodder.

The President in particular is very much a figurehead { he wields no real power whatsoever.He is apparently chosen by the government, but the qualities he is required to display are not those of leadership but those of finely judged outrage. For this reason the President is always a controversial choice, always an infuriating but fascinating character. His job is not to wield power but to draw attention away from it. On those criteria. Zaphod Beeblebrox is one of the most successful Presidents the Galaxy has ever had {he has already spent two of his ten Presidential years in prison for fraud. Very very few people realize that the President and the Government have virtually no power at all, and of these very few people only six know whence ultimate political power is wielded. Most of the others secretly believe that the ultimate decision-making process is handled by a computer. They couldn't be more wrong.

Only six people in the Galaxy knew that the job of the Galactic President was not to wield power but to attract attention away from it. . . Zaphod Beeblebrox was amazingly good at his job. . .The fact that he had become President of the Galaxy was frankly astonishing, as was the manner of his leaving the post. Was there a reason behind it? There would be no point in asking Zaphod, he never appeared to have a reason for anything he did at all: he had turned unfathomably into an art form. He attacked everything in life with a mixture of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence and it was often difficult to tell which was which.

It is a well known fact that those people who most want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.

The Ruler of the Universe is a man living in a small shack on a world that can only be reached with a key to an unprobability field or use of an Infinite Improbability Drive. He does not want to rule the universe and tries not to whenever possible, and therefore is by far the ideal candidate for the job.
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This foresight by Adams only highlights his intelligence and awareness of devolution in the process of government. In the postmodern world of superficiality and spectacle, the real projections of power become the inverse of the apparent nodes, existing at the invisible bottom of the superstructure, not at the top.  The president here is all surface, an attraction of spectacle, while the ruler lives in hidden isolation behind the scenes.  Those who do not want power are those that are most deserving of it and can yield it most judiciously and effectively, while those that want it are the most corruptible and least likely to be "objectively" good at it.

In application, this can quite clearly be applicable to Trump and his postmodern, reality-TV spectacle approach, which overrides serious, thoughtful, calculated, and determined practice of governance. For those that think a rejection of the establishment is the crucial factor in contemporary politics, I contend that that approach is, at best, just more superficial spectacle, becoming farther removed from the real serious business of governing.  At worst (and this is becoming actualized with the elimination of Sanders), it is just a more extreme form of the Tea Party movement.  It is just an evolution of the 2010 election which sought to block President Obama at every turn.  Now it is looking to completely bypass the democratic process of compromise and agreement and replace it with the singular perspective of an extreme political movement.  Before a democrat became president, when was the establishment bad? Reagan was establishment, and the Bushes were just continuations of that line.  But, if a black liberal (through accusation anyway) becomes the leader of the free world (twice), then the establishment becomes the problem.  This election was been one continual highlighting of what a circus the anti-establishment is.  If we could throw out this distorted notion, maybe we can get back the serious issues.

For those that think government is the problem, I invite you take a time machine back to the 90s.  There were still serious issues that needed to be solved, but we were on the right road and had a good start.  American life looked ever more promising until being derailed in 2000.  Those that continue to perpetuate this myth fall into two groups - first, conservatives who have deluded themselves into forgetting the Clinton era America (by propagating a Bush-hero myth and transferring the problems of the 2000s back to an "origin" in the 90s, thereby erasing the massive failure that was the Bush administration and projecting all of his failings on to Clinton.  The second group are the millennials, many of whom were too young to understand the Clinton years, and are now being fed Fox history to rewrite and degrade that era.  Their criticisms reveal a great misunderstanding of recent history.

On a deeper level, we must separate the President from the American System.  There is a course that America sets through history, and this will not be changed by an alternate presidential choice.   Does anyone really think that drone strikes will be different depending on H Clinton, or Trump? Or that Sanders would have been any different?  Or Johnson? At this level, the precedent has been set, and will continue autonomously, or decided by people whose job it is to keep it going.  Presidents may change history on a larger level, by invading sovereign nations under false pretenses which destroy 200 years of American policy [1].  But, generally, that which they have an effect on is much smaller, and more domestic.  Tax rates for those who depend on every dollar, and the general tone of what is acceptable in society are the real things at risk.  Economic policy which favors the dominant oligarchy is self contained and will continue on.  And geopolitically, the America-as-singular-super-power will continue on unabated.  No one within the system is going to risk implementing something which might impede this course.  Who we choose for president should be based on who has the best temperament to embody what we want America to persist and present itself as. That person should be presidential as an individual.  And, they should be chosen on what tone we want to domestic policy to reflect, in ways that shape American value over time, making slight corrections to the course.  But, we should not vote thinking that the President makes decisions that decide every minute policy.  That would in actuality be bad. Very bad.  That would lead straight in totalitarianism.  But, that is the picture that Trump is presenting - that he will be able to change every little thing that makes America not great.  By immersing himself in this distortion, he is either a scam artist, or actually ignorant and incompetent.

Michael Weiss has written a very interesting analysis of Trump in  "Donald Trump’s Anti-Semitic Mob Came for Me." He also evaluates the placement of trump in the postmodern age:

"Trump is everything and anything to this camp because he is the first postmodern authoritarian in American history, a man for whom truth is a relative concept defined exclusively in relation one’s perception of the central, overriding object: the authoritarian himself . . . Trump’s positions are wildly inconsistent and galvanizing at the same time . . . He thinks America under Obama has become a weakling superpower that doesn’t stand up to its manifold adversaries, but he wants to destroy NATO."

Furthermore, he makes a enlightened connection between the relativistic nature of postmodernism and the essentialist conservative position:

"Postmodernism got its fullest articulation on the European left, but it’s always been at home on the international right: its forerunner theorist was Martin Heidegger, who infamously embraced National Socialism, which of course didn't stop him from becoming an icon to French radicals once Hitler was defeated. The internet has only given these fiefdoms of infinite “interpretation”—climate change denialists, the anti-vaxxers, chemtrails obsessives—more stridency and organization."

The postmodern rejection of Truth and its replacement with unending layers of interpretation can indeed serve the right just as well as the left.  Weiss insight-fully identifies the Trump as the first candidate to fully embrace this disconnect and use the contradictory nature of its structure as an advantage. One thing is certain, politics will not be the same as we shift toward a new epoch that overturns modern structures.  The nation state has become increasingly more irrelevant as groups like ISIL exert influence, and now the very nature of the politician and the political movement is evolving in to new types of entities.


[1] It is very conceivable that The (American) System would have found a way to create a great Middle Eastern Intervention without Bush and his personal and enthusiastic interest in Iraq, but it would have been very different under Gore, who would have been reluctant and would have appeared through his hesitation as weak and indecisive, just as Obama has been presented. However, if the US is going to make giant international moves without regard for actuality, I would prefer they are done less arrogantly and with more forethought.  A much better chess-board story could have been fabricated to prompt US action.

They Were Seven Facing Three

So after the long wait, we finally see the Tower of Joy event.  The most interesting element of this scene was how much it deviated from A Game of Thrones (Book I of A Song of Ice and Fire).   This is notable, because neither telling of the event can be said to be reliable.  The original is a dream of Ned's, where some things happen "as it was in life," and others are shadowy events from a dimming memory.  The final filmed version is a vision of Bran's, which may be a viewing of the past, a new branching of time where Bran could potentially interact, or some kind of simulacrum that is not completely faithful to the original events.  My notion of the event has been this fan made video from the audio-book which faithfully portrays the description in Ned's dream:

Which is real?  This is one more occurrence which reveals the postmodern zeitgeist that A Song of Ice and Fire originates from, and which is perhaps becoming foregrounded as we finish the filmed series.

S06E03:

 

White Noise

Reading Don Dellilo's White Noise on the thirtieth anniversary of the Chernobyl accident, I think Delillo had a good sense of the world to come.  Ecological and apocalyptic disasters are a primary trope of postmodern literature, but given the proximity of the release of this work with the Ukrainian event it seems particularly relevant.  This novel basically takes the usual postmodern understanding of the loss of our existential connection to life and its replacement with late capitalist consumer culture, and works it into a story.  A little too explicitly - to the point where Delillo essentially shouts out "this is a commentary on postmodern culture."  Unfortunately, as a literary narrative it is pretty awful, the dialogue presenting something that is nowhere near realistic, and is just bland inhuman characters asking each inane question in response to every statement. "Why?" "Why?"  Now, I'll assume this is intentional to portray the unfeeling disconnect between the characters and their life and the world around them.  But it makes for terrible writing, and terrible storytelling.  This was disappointing, as this is supposed to be a high-mark of postmodern commentary, a goal-point for all subsequent authors to strive to hit.  But I don't think there is anything here that Douglas Coupland or David Foster Wallace hasn't done better, and with more aesthetic effect. He may have paved the way for the rest, and this work seems to have had a lasting influence.  But, I hope future encounters with his work, including the latest, will be more readable

St Augustine in Hell

From this week's stupid and annoying files:  John Piper has claimed that watching Game of Thrones is like re-crucifying Christ.  Not because it depicts the most horrific methods of violence and an incredible disregard for the integrity of human subjectivity.  No, just because it contains nudity.  After taking a lot of pain killers for my spinning head, I finally think I understand this.  Not that understanding makes the statement any less stupid.  If we take the fundamental theme of Game of Thrones to be power, in a Foucauldian sense of meta-narrative (along with Nietzsche and Adler), then it involves all of life in this world.  Piper would seem to take a Paulian and Gnostic view of Christianity which rejects everything in the material world as evil.  Only the spititaul can be good.  Anything that feels positive would be an attraction to this world, which would seem to be why we can discount violence as a bad thing.  Assuming Piper isn't a psychopath, he apparently isn't attracted to abhorrent violence.  But, he may actually have an attraction to sexuality, and any glimpse of something to which he has a natural affinity (such as the expected female nudity in Thrones) would be a quick trip into the downward spiral that is real life.  Even St Augustine dealt with the natural attractiveness of prurient interests, and took a far less extremist view.  If catching a glimpse of nudity is so severe that is an act of re-crucifying, then I think it's safe to say we shouldn't be dealing with Game of Thrones.  We should be more concerned with rejecting all of popular culture to the point of resisting going out on the street (and certainly not the beach).  If Piper wants to promote a ascetic way of life that's fine (although I would think rejecting a God-given life in God-created reality to live in a self-deluding fantasy in hopes of finally going to another world would be possibly the worst sin imaginable).  But if he is really serious about that, then he should go live in a hole in the desert, or  at least in a monastery and not participate in the cultural world at all.  Directing his remarks to cultural artifacts that are themselves created out of the real history of thousands of years of human atrocities and human desires completely misses the point.  The real problem is Piper himself, who has a motivation to live (as he rightfully should) but rejects it because of extremist ideology. This resembles the movements to outlaw everything fun -sex, alcohol, dancing, etc- because "I want to do it but I can't, so no one else should be able to do it either."  Piper and his ilk should either enter the real world and attempt to make it better - to promote the good, or he should find that hole in the desert and ignore culture altogether while wasting his time waiting to be saved from reality.  Whatever he is doing now isn't helping - either the world at large or the cause of the religion he invokes.  It's just annoying.

On Evil & The Event of Literature

Last Books Read:  

On Evil - Terry Eagleton
The Event of Literature - Terry Eagleton

I:
In On Evil Eagleton examines the nature of evil  in an attempt to give it a precise definition.  He explores the area where literature, philosophy, religion, and political history meet.  This work attempts to undo the circular reasoning that leads to the popular notion that people do evil things because they are evil.  What then does the person have to do with their own actions?  Evil is either of full description of which nothing more can be said, or it is unexplainable.  Eagleton tries to navigate between these extremes.  He attempts to define it in terms of the drive to annihilate.  The desire for pure, infinite freedom requires that nothing exists, that is the lack of anything which can get in the way of the conscious drive.  Here, in his typical fashion, Eagleton links this drive with the middle class desire for freedom and the unquenchable thirst of capitalism.  The technological progression of human history has evolved to the point where more is always desirable and attainable.  This blind drive can have negative and destructive consequences left unchecked.  In its overly ambitious process evil destroys meaning. For the nihilist, annhilation is the only way to get out of the limitations of creation - to transcend, to escape.  Following Kierkegaard, Eagleton notes the "dreadful emptiness and contentlessness of evil." It is purity, and in its totality is empty and begins to come full circle with chaos.  He presents evil as all form with no substance, although this does not apply to evil alone.  It shares these qualities with music and mathematics among other things.  It is this contentlessness that I find in my least favorite things - sports and idle chat - things which present a useless form of existence.  What differentiates formal structures from evil is indeed their usefulness, which mathematics and music possess.  They provide the foundation for content which provides meaning.  It is meaning, Eagleton argues, that solidifies into something.  In the absence of meaning, evil has "no practical purpose.  Evil is supremely pointless...[it] rejects the logic of causality" (84).  Here he compares it to a game, it is purposeful action without an ultimate purpose.  This characterization as well requires careful consideration.  Life itself for the existentialists and the extra-existential absurdists could fit into this definition.  It is absurd because of the disparity between the serious weight given to actions and the ultimate arbitrariness of those actions.  Similarly, as Eagleton argues in The Event of Literature (see below), literature contains an internal logic that makes sense within the internal structure, but is baseless in an external frame of reference.  Once again, these examples rely on the construction of meaning.  Despite the unlikely possibility of a lasting necessity, life and literature make an attempt to sustain meaning.  And meaning is something. Even in the worst case in which it is all that remains, its existence defies nihilism and evil in its project. The lack of "inner depth" is what keeps the nihilist from finding true annihilation, they must remain to counter creation, but they can find no place within it.  "Evil, like religious fundamentalism is . . . a nostalgia for an older, simpler civilization, in which there were certitudes like damnation and salvation, and you knew where you stood" (119).  It is the attempt to synthesize pure order without all the messiness of life, and the ambiguities and fuzzy logic of the world which make things complicated. Eagleton concludes by applying this to modern day ideological conflict and the disillusionment of  "[t]hose who expect too much of human nature, socialists, libertarians and the like" (148).  Conservatives by contrast have much lower expectations and prioritize the sin and not redemption, while liberals over-prioritize the redemption.  Here Eagleton has thrown the generally accepted contrast between socialists and libertarians into question.  In his view, socialism "proved least possible where it is most urgent.  And this is certainly one of the major tragedies of that epoch" (150). In the current era, where terrorism becomes the defining form of blind, mindless evil,  Eagleton points out that the recognition of evil as purposeless in opposition to the reality of "wickedness" (those harmful actions that are performed for a determined goal) is an important factor in ultimately overcoming evil.

II:
In his most recent work, The Event of Literature, Eagleton argues for a complex view of literary theory . In contrast to the emptiness of evil, literature is an immensely deep creation of meaning- of worlds in themselves. This is a dense work, of which much could be said.  However, in an effort to be brief, Eagleton defines literature as a "work" that exhibits these properties: It exists in a moral perspective, that is examines  morality,.  It is non-pragmatic - it contains features that elevate it beyond any pragmatic function it might have (such as poetic language). It is mobile and dislocated -not linked precisely to its point of origin. It invites interpretation, provides connotations, and exists with a double nature - it works on multiple levels.  It contains its own internal logic which does not necessarily correspond to external reality, but is coherent.  It is a language game, it contains only what its language allows.  It involves attempts at questions and answers.  Finally, it can be viewed as an event more than a work.  It is an attempt at "strategy," a problem-solving device,  "[t]he literary work is a a solution to to the question which is itself . . . it establishes a relation to reality by establishing a relation to itself (223). Furthermore, "[t]he literary work can be seen as objectifying unconscious fantasies, converting this shapeless, sublimely terrifying stuff into tangible images" (220). Eagleton ties together the aesthetic, political, philosophical/moral and psychological threads to sum up that "[t]he work of art is an example of human praxis, and therefore how to live well" (224).  Literature is our attempt to record the infinite amount of possible experiences and attempt to make sense of existence and its myriad of perceived meanings.

The Gum Thief

Last Book Read: The Gum Thief - Douglas Coupland

December 21st, 2012:  What better day than to start reading a Douglas Coupland novel? (which always contain an impending sense of apocalypse, whether explicit or implicit)  The Gum Thief  follows a pretty straightforward Coupland formula: dysfunctional Mcjob workers contemplate their own significance in the superficial, bland consumer world.  Of literary interest, all of the interaction between characters is through written correspondence, mostly a shared journal, but also email and Fed-Exed letters.  Within the journal, Roger, a disillusioned Staples worker, writes a novel (a complete take off of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf).  And, within that novel, the sub-character Kyle writes a novel about Staples workers.  The resulting story within a story within a story (within a book within a book) creates a inside/outside/inside infinite regress Mobius loop.  Along the way the usual Coupland-esqe characters speak in a way that no real person does (well, almost no one[1], however, this is addressed in the last chapter): full of witty pop culture references and cutting criticism - cataloging the interesting and bland details of life in the early twenty-first century.

Perhaps more interesting is Coupland's analysis of his own work in context.   In "A Conversation with Douglas Coupland: The Hideous, the Cynical, and the Beautiful" [2] Coupland reflects on the time period and events that has inspired his work. While he has tried to distance himself from postmodern styles in his writing, there is no way to remove his work from postmodernity. Here he discusses Marxism in relation to the Jameson-style capitalism discussed in his novels, as well as Fukuyama's end of history.  Two points of history seem to emerge as significant: 1991 and 2001.  1991, the year Generation X was published, was the emergence from the Cold War into uncharted temporal and political territory (and I would argue the end of modernity).  Any optimism of possibility ended ten years later on 9/11.  The constant anxiety of apocalypse found in Coupland's work began as the fear of the Cold War turned hot and the resulting MAD.  In actuality 9/11 brought that danger to us on a much smaller but much closer scale.  His work for the last ten years always contains elements of dealing with that (as well as gun violence in the case of Hey, Nostradamus).  The end of the structured order of modernity has brought us unhindered late-capitalism and political danger and uncertainty, resulting in the empty "blankness" of contemporary life that Coupland so aptly describes.  Although he sees 9/11 as history reasserting itself and negating Fukuyama's theory that history has ended, his description of the end if the twentieth century suggests that history has disappeared at the personal level: 

I remember the 70s were like a pit. The 80s were about climbing out of the pit. The 90s were actually kind of a golden age, because things were good. So I’m glad we had that final bubble. . . I think 2001 was the last year that we actually think of as being a year. Like, the 20th century was 1989, 1990, 1991. But what’s 2002? What’s 2003? It’s like buying gas or something. It’s not even time. It’s something else. We don’t have that bubble of modernity that just accidentally happened to be encapsulated by the 20th century. Lately, we just have this yawning, gaping infinity. We’re in a vacuum. Fear of the vacuum. 

Curiously, I think the last decade has been one with absolutely no defining style of its own. Like, nothing. You can’t look at something and say, “That’s really 2007.” There’s just nothing. And the only real defining style of the decade, aside from maybe Apple products, is the aggregation of lots of small objects. . .

What are we left with from the last decade?  We have ever evolving, stylized personal technology.  But, that is about it.  We have style over substance and form over content, leaving just a blank structure of culture. This superficiality is perhaps best portrayed in 1992's Shampoo Planet.   In the aftermath of 9/11 we now have economic collapse and the constant danger of getting stuck where we are.  As he illustrates it: "We’re now in an age of earthquakes. It’s just never going to stop.  9/11 was the first domino in that process."

Coupland has an accurate and detailed take on contemporary culture that no one else seems to be discussing.  This particular interview had numerous points of interest and it suggests that we could benefit from Coupland's thought if he would take a break from having fictional characters speak for him and write a work of analysis.


[1] Coupland's characters seem to be hyper versions of himself, amplifying the unique way he articulates and conceptualizes, but quite different from most people in the real world.

[2] Gray, Brenna Clarke "A Conversation with Douglas Coupland: The Hideous, the Cynical, and the Beautiful." Studies in Canadian Literature. Volume 36, Number 2.

Disclaimer:  I believe the quoted material falls within fair use for commentary and criticism.   Copyright owners may email me with any concerns.