What Was I Thinking? (8 April)

Images used for the posts published on

this date in 2014, 2021, and 2023

 

 

Sometimes - especially those times when, like today, I can't think of anything else to write about - it's convenient to be able to look back and see what one was thinking on the same date in years gone by ...

 

In Praise of the Pig

 

The interesting thing about this post from 8 April 2014 is that it cost me a very dear friendship with an amazing woman called Beatrice de Dia, who found it to be Islamophobic, whereas it was, rather - as the title surely indicates - simply an expression of my porcophilia.   

 

And so, whilst the post did challenge the dietary injunction against eating pork found within Islamic (as well as Jewish) religious culture, it mostly celebrated pigs as intelligent, social, and loveable creatures who are, of course, genetically very similar to human beings, sharing as we do 98% of our DNA with them (which is why they represent the best hope for the xenotransplantation of organs in the future).

 

The post was also a reading of the view put forward by Christopher Hitchens; namely, that the reason heaven hates ham has nothing to do with food hygiene, but because eating pork uncomfortably reminded the ancient Semites of a time when human sacrifice and cannibalism were de rigueur. 

 

Finally, the post ended by calling on non-Jews and non-Muslims to also reconsider their own vile treatment of the pig and end the disgusting cruelty of factory farming. 

 

For if, on the one hand, pigs deserve better than to be vilified by those who allow religious superstition to distort their relationship to the animal world, then on the other hand, so too do they deserve more than being confined, separated from their young, and forced to live in their own filth before being slaughtered in their hundreds of millions each year by the Chinese, Americans, and Europeans. 

It's such a shame that Beatrice couldn't process the post - despite smiling at its mock-epic quality - and seemed to think I was encouraging racial and religious intolerance (even hatred). I'll always think of her very fondly (and still miss her terribly). 

 

 

Notes on An American Werewolf in London

 

Fast forward seven years, to 8 April 2021, and I was offering thoughts on An American Werewolf in London (dir. John Landis, 1981). 

 

Well, I say that, but actually the post was less a film review and more an excuse to sing the praises of two women who have secured their place in the hearts (and erotic imagination) of many a male viewer: Jenny Agutter and Linzi Drew. 

 

The former, who plays Nurse Alex Price in the film, is still, in my view, one of the most beautiful English actresses ever to have graced the screen; whilst the latter, appearing as Brenda Bristols, may not quite have the same allure as Mary Millington, but she did have a successful (and varied) career in the UK sex industry during the 1980s, working as a stripper, model, and porn star.

 

One day, if I can ever see past the charms of the female stars, I must really get around to discussing the demonic Nazi stormtroopers that appear in a terrifying dream sequence that even the Chapman brothers would've been proud of and how the film is crucially tied to the question of Jewish identity and feelings of cultural estrangement ... 

 

 

In Memory of Two Dead Artists 

 

Was it really 14 years ago that Malcolm McLaren died, aged 64, and over 50 years ago that Picasso departed this life, aged 91? Apparently. 

 

As I noted in a post published last year on this date, McLaren may have acted with mock delight when told of the great Spanish painter's death, but he undoubtedly admired Picasso and was happy to pose by one of his works when being interviewed at the Guggenheim in 1984 for an episode of The South Bank Show. 

 

His friend from art school days, Fred Vermorel, wrote this in 2015:

 

"Considered as an artwork [...] McLaren's Sex Pistols was as seminal and resonant as Picasso's Guernica. Only this was a masterpiece made not of paint and canvas but of headlines and scandal, scams and factoids, rumour and fashion, slogans, fantasies and images and (I almost forgot) songs - all in a headlong scramble to auto-destruction."[1]     

 

I think that's not only a nice thing to say, but also very true.

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Fred Vermorel, 'Blowing Up the Bridges So There Is No Way Back', in Eyes for Blowing Up Bridges: Joining the Dots from the Situationist International to Malcolm McLaren (John Hansard Gallery, 2015). Quoted by Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 292.  

D. H. Lawrence's Vision of a Demonic America

Jasper Johns: Flag (1954-55)

moma.org

I. 

I've never been to America. But I have always loved all things American, including the people. Perhaps this is due in some mysterious way to the fact that my mother-to-be dated a GI during the War (he even proposed and planned to take his teen-bride back with him to New York, but my mother-to-be said no).

Whatever the reason, I've always thought of myself as, in some sense, American and I fully appreciate why so many Brits - including Christopher Hitchens and Johnny Rotten - are proud to become US citizens.

Despite his determination to remain English in the teeth of all the world, I also believe D. H. Lawrence would have made a fine American. Indeed, it's rather surprising that he didn't settle in the States and turn his back forever on the country of his birth, which treated him so poorly on so many occasions.*        

For whilst Lawrence despised many aspects of modern life in America - telephones, tinned meat, automobiles, indoor plumbing, incomes and ideals, etc. - he was fascinated by the spirit of place and the alien quality also of American art-speech that he discovered in the classic literature:

"The furthest frenzies of French modernism or futurism have not yet reached the pitch of extreme consciousness that Poe, Melville, Hawthorne, Whitman reached. The European moderns are all trying to be extreme. The great Americans I mention just were it." [12]

I think that's true: which is why, for example, I think The Scarlet Letter a more provocative novel than L'histoire de l'œil.

I also think Lawrence might be right to suggest that the real American day hasn't dawned as yet. And that when it does, it'll surprise everyone - not least the pale-faced, apple-pie loving idealists who think of themselves as the true Americans of today. For the America to come will be one that has reckoned at last with the full force of the daimon that belongs to the American continent itself.   

Troubling as it is to contemplate, I admire Lawrence's queer dark vision of a demonic America, inhabited by a people whose destiny "is to destroy the whole corpus of the white psyche, the white consciousness" [81]. This doesn't mean primitive regression - Lawrence is clear that there can be no going back - but it does entail a dusky-bodied posthumanism with a rattle snake coiled at its heart.**  

II.

Even before he had made his first visit in 1922, Lawrence was pinning his highest hopes on America. In a letter of October 1915 to the American editor, critic and poet Harriet Monroe, he writes:

"I must see America. I think one can feel hope there. I think that there life comes up from the roots, crude but vital. Here the whole tree of life is dying. It is like being dead: the underworld. I must see America. I believe it is beginning, not ending." 

Lawrence's contrasting of American vitality with European deadness is a constant in his work from this period. Thus, it's not surprising to find that in a foreword written for Studies in Classic American Literature, he attempts to persuade Americans to get up off their knees before European culture and tradition and be thankful for their own barbaric freedom from the past.

Like Nietzsche, Lawrence is only interested in serving history to the extent that it serves life; when it becomes disadvantageous - i.e., when it merely instructs without increasing or directly quickening human activity - then he's happy to draw a line under it.

It's a pity, says Lawrence, that Americans are always so wonderstruck by European monuments: "After all, a heap of stone is only a heap of stone - even if it is Milan cathedral. And who knows that it isn't a horrid bristly burden on the face of the earth?" [381]

He continues:

"America, therefore, should leave off being quite so prostrate with admiration. [...]
      Let Americans turn to America, and to that very America which has been rejected and almost annihilated. [...] America must turn again to catch the spirit of her own dark, aboriginal continent.
      That which was abhorrent to the Pilgrim Fathers and to the Spaniards, that which was called the Devil, the black demon of savage America, this great aboriginal spirit the Americans must recognise again, recognise, and embrace. The devil [...] of our forefathers hides the Godhead which we seek. [...]
       It means a surpassing of the old European life-form. It means a departure from the old European morality [...] It means even a departure from the old range of emotions and sensibilities. [...]
      [...] Now is the day when Americans must become fully, self-reliantly conscious of their own inner responsibility. They must be ready for a new act, a new extension of life. They must pass the bounds." [383-85]       

In a sense, as these lines indicate, Lawrence is transferring Nietzsche's project of a revaluation of all values into the wild west. One can almost picture the overman in a poncho, cowboy hat and spurs - a bit like Clint Eastwood's Man with No Name. (Readers might think I'm only teasing here, but, as Lawrence says, the essential American soul is hard, isolate, stoic ... and a killer.)*** 

 thedigitalpilgrimage.wordpress.com 

Notes

* In a letter written to his friend Catherine Carswell in 1916, Lawrence makes it clear that he had, at this time, determined that he wanted to leave England for good and at the earliest possible opportunity, transferring all his life to America, a country in which he could "feel the new unknown". 

** See what Lawrence writes in 'Herman Melville's Typee and Omoo' (Final Version, 1923), in Studies in Classic American Literature, pp. 126-28. And see also his remarks in 'Indians and an Englishman', in Mornings and Mexico and Other Essays, pp. 119-20. The essential point is that whilst Lawrence advocates Americans picking up where the native peoples left off, he also wants those who accept this challenge to perfect the old way of being as a new body of truth in the future; not make a vain and naive attempt to simply return to the past: I can't cluster at the drum any more. 

*** Reading Eastwood's movies - particularly the Dollars Trilogy - in terms of a postmoral existentialism, is not an original move on my part; several scholars have produced interesting work in this area. See for example the collection of essays ed. Richard T. McClelland and Brian B. Clayton, The Philosophy of Clint Eastwood, (University Press of Kentucky, 2014).

 
Bibliography

D. H. Lawrence, Studies in Classic American Literature, ed. Ezra Greenspan, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen, (Cambridge University Press, 2003). All page numbers given in the text refer to this edition.

D. H. Lawrence, Mornings in Mexico and Other Essays, ed. Virginia Crosswhite Hyde, (Cambridge University Press, 2009).
 
D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. II (1913-16), ed. George J. Zytaruk and James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 1981), letter 1028, to Harriet Monroe, 26 October, 1915.

D. H. Lawrence, The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. III (1916-21), ed. James T. Boulton and Andrew Robertson, (Cambridge University Press, 1984), letter 1306, to Catherine Carswell, 7 November, 1916.

Nietzsche, 'On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life', Untimely Meditations, ed. Daniel Breazeale, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, (Cambridge University Press, 1997). 


Many thanks to James Walker of The Digital Pilgrimage for use of the Lawrence as cowboy image.

In Praise of the Fatwa Boys 1: Remembering the Rushdie Affair

The Fatwa Boys: Salman Rushdie and Larry David 
Image credit: John P. Johnson / HBO

On Valentine's Day, 1989, when the rest of us were sending flowers to loved ones, the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran - Ayatollah Khomeini - decided to issue a fatwa against the British writer Salman Rushdie: a religious decree that urged Muslims around the world to kill the author (and publishers) of The Satanic Verses (1988); for it was a novel that was said to offend the sacred values of Islam.   

This grey-bearded cleric, aged 89, and with only months left to live, added that any good Muslim who was killed trying to carry out the death sentence should be considered a martyr, i.e., one whose place in paradise was guaranteed. Just in case that wasn't a strong enough motivating factor, a $2.8 million bounty was also placed on Rushdie's head.    

The writer was immediately granted police protection by the British government, though many seemed to resent the fact (and the cost to the public purse). Rushdie then spent many years moving between safe houses and living a life in which everyday activities - like kicking a football in the park with his son - became either impossible or subject to tight security measures.

Many Muslim countries around the world banned the import and sale of the book and encouraged violent protests against the West. In Bradford, a mob publicly burned copies of the work and echoed the call for Rushdie's execution. Whilst some authors, including Susan Sontag and Tom Wolfe were vocal in their support, others - who shall remain nameless - were noticeably silent on the issue (some even implied that Rushdie got what he deserved for insulting a great religion).   

It was only in the 1990s that Rushdie was able to gradually recover something approaching a normal life once more, eventually moving to New York. But the threat to his life remained; Khomeini’s successor, Ayatollah Khamenei, stated in 2005 that as Rushdie was still an apostate his killing was authorised within Islam and he again stressed the irrevocable nature of the fatwa in 2015.

Thirty years on, not only does Rushdie remain a figure of hate for Islamists across the Muslim world, but the issue of blasphemy - in 2019! - remains an incendiary one; people are still being killed or threatened with death for any perceived insult to God or his prophet Muhammad (the case of Asia Bibi is just the latest grotesque example).   

The problem, of course, is that laws designed to protect religious sensibilities ultimately stifle intellectual debate and artistic expression. Indeed, as Christopher Hitchens notes, the fatwa issued against his friend Rushdie was essentially the opening shot in a war on cultural freedom: after The Satanic Verses controversy came the murder of Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh in 2004; followed a year later by the Danish cartoon crisis; and then the Charlie Hebdo massacre in 2015 ...

Happily, three decades on, Rushdie is alive and well and - as we'll see in the second part of this post - able to laugh at his own nightmarish experience. Even if, again to quote Hitchens, "the culture that sustains him, and that he helps sustain, has twisted itself into a posture of prior restraint and self-censorship in which the grim, mad edict of a dead theocrat still exerts its chilling force".


See: Christopher Hitchens, 'Assassins of the Mind', Vanity Fair (February 2009): click here to read online.

To read part two of this post, click here. 

Rushdie with a copy of his offending text (London, 1989)

Photo credit: PA Photos / Landov 

Another Brief Note on the Case of Milo Yiannopoulos

Photo of Milo Yiannopoulos by Jill Greenberg

for a feature-interview by Chadwick Moore

in Out Magazine (21 Sept 16)

Among several interesting announcements by a conservatively dressed and contrite sounding Milo Yiannopoulos at his recent New York press conference (called in response to the media hoo-ha over his apparent endorsement of paedophilia), was the fact that he intends henceforth to primarily entertain and educate his audience, rather than outrage his opponents first and foremost.

In other words, Mr Yiannopoulos is attempting to reinvent himself as a kind of pedagogic clown, on a mission, like the great English essayist and playwright Ben Jonson, to mix profit with pleasure, rather than simply act as an alt-right provocateur and internet super-villain.

I wish him luck: the trouble is, however, that in order to succeed he must quickly find a way to make people laugh and demonstrate he has something insightful to say about the world and I'm not convinced he's funny or thoughtful enough to do so. Bill Maher's fawning description of him as a "young, gay, alive Christopher Hitchens" is clearly overly generous. As Peter Bradshaw writes, in comparison to the latter, Milo is dull, suburban and straight. He's certainly no Hitch.

Further, one suspects that his demons will sooner or later lead him back towards what he's perversely good at: pissing people off and arousing hatred. Ultimately, Milo Yiannopoulos is what he is: X (readers are invited to fill in the space by providing their own thoughts and projecting their own fantasies).

He's probably not someone who genuinely wishes to enrich people's lives by informing, educating and entertaining; we have Brian Cox for that. And although he often refers to free speech, he doesn't seem to care about opening up debate or advancing any cause.

For ultimately, he's into chaos - and the cash that comes from chaos; a kind of sex pistol, if you like, spreading a stylish and subversive form of shallow, nacissistic nihilism. And I suppose that's why I can't help having a degree of affection for him - that and the fact he's just so good-looking.


Those interested in the case of Milo Yiannopoulos might like to read a related post: click here.

 

Charles, Prince of Piffle

Torpedo the Ark opposes all forms of monarchy, including the House of Windsor.

I wouldn't say I hate them, but I want them to go away - far, far away - and cease to exert any influence upon public life or the cultural imagination.  

And if there's one member of this ghastly family of privileged, parasitic inbreds that I want to go further away than the others, it's Charles, Prince of Piffle and would-be King of the Crackpots.

For whilst I can forgive him many things - his love of The Goon Show, his penchant for talking to plants, his fantasy of becoming a tampon, etc. - what I can't overlook is the very real power he has to shape government policy and popular opinion on a wide range of issues, from farming and the environment, to art, architecture and - most worryingly of all - healthcare.

A committed defender of faith and self-professed enemy of the Enlightenment, Charles is clearly a crank who subscribes to some deeply foolish ideas. But, like his former guru, Laurens van der Post, he's also someone with a rather sinister aspect, not above harming others should they challenge these anti-scientific beliefs or frustrate his attempts to have them implemented, as the case of Edzard Ernst demonstrates.

It's nothing short of scandalous that the Prince has been able to pass himself off as an expert in integrated medicine and persuade members of parliament - including government ministers - to take homeopathy, herbalism and other complementary or alternative treatments seriously enough to invest large sums of public money in researching and promoting them.

I don't want the Department of Health to use its limited financial resources on various forms of quackery at the behest of a meddling member of the royal family and whilst I'm all for choice within the NHS, I don't want that choice to include witchcraft, faith healing, or snake oil thank you very much - even if the latter comes with an official royal warrant. 

As David Colquhoun, Professor of Pharmacology at University College London, writes: "Questions about health policy are undoubtedly political, and the highly partisan interventions of the Prince in the political process make his behaviour unconstitutional."

Not only does Charles jeopardise the future of the monarchy with his behaviour (which I don't care about), he endangers the health of the nation (about which I do care). As Christopher Hitchens warns: "An awful embarrassment awaits the British if they do not declare for a republic based on verifiable laws and principles, both political and scientific."


See:

David Colquhoun, 'Quacktitioner Royal is a menace to the constitution and public health', The Conversation, (July 30, 2013): click here. 

David Gorski, 'Prince of Pseudoscience', Slate, (March 17, 2015): click here. 

Christopher Hitchens, 'Charles, Prince of Piffle', Slate, (June 14, 2010): click here:  

I am grateful to Maria Thanassa for suggesting the topic of this post.

A Philosophical Postscript on the Paris Attacks

Diesel the police dog who displayed many of 

the virtues associated with nobility of soul

In the wake of the Paris attacks, political leaders in France and elsewhere wrapped themselves in the tricolore and affirmed a predictable set of values, including Egalité, a revolutionary concept which, as Nietzsche points out, has penetrated deeply into the tissue of modernity, providing the prototype for all our moral theories regarding the universality of so-called human rights.

What these politicians cannot see is that, in practice, this false and fatal idea of equality of all souls has allowed the base and resentment-ridden to challenge every order of rank and thereby effectively undermine the very notion of society. It has thus provided our enemies - including the Islamists - with an explosive weapon against which we have no defense.

But then our Christian idealism has of course rendered the very notion of enmity impossible; we are encouraged to not only regard those who hate us and wish to do us harm as brothers and as equals in the sight of God, but love them and forgive them for their crimes committed against us.

Thus, when asked about those killed in Paris, one commentator and cryptotheologian shamefully masquerading as a philosopher, said we should mourn all those who had died - presumably this includes the bombers and gunmen - as the loss of any life is a tragedy and that no one life is of a greater value than any other.

Thankfully, no one in their right mind really believes this. Indeed, sane people everywhere were more upset by the death of Diesel the police dog than of Abdelhamid Abaaoud and his accomplices in mass murder. What’s more, they recognise something that Christopher Hitchens repeatedly pointed out; namely, that it is not only perverse (and suicidal) to love such people, but ultimately immoral inasmuch as it implies an unwillingness to actively confront and engage with the evil they embody and make manifest.

In sum:

Firstly, there is no equality between souls; not because, as D. H. Lawrence argues, each soul is uniquely different and thus incomparable, but, on the contrary, because each soul is perfectly comparable within an ethical context and some lives clearly lack beauty, lack integrity and lack style in comparison to others.

Secondly, it is our duty - as citizens and as men and women who are interested in the care of the self - to combat and destroy the enemies of civilization and of parrhesia.

Why the Dalai Lama is Just Another Holy Fool

 

I wouldn't say I hate the Dalai Lama with the same degree of intensity as, for example, I hate Mother Teresa or Gandhi, but there's certainly something about him that I dislike and mistrust: the ghastly monastic robes; the perpetually smiling face (memorably described by James Snell as that of a dozy kitten); the fact that he likes to endorse the spiritual pretensions of Hollywood celebrities and hold the hands of royalty; the cynical manner in which he mixes Bambi-morality with calls for a return to a brutal theocratic feudalism under his own semi-divine leadership, etc.

Not surprisingly, Christopher Hitchens brilliantly outlines the case against him. But an equally interesting critique is by Pascal Bruckner, in which he contrasts Mr Tenzin Gyatso's astonishing success as a master of public relations and self-promotion, with his relative failure politically: 

"Coming out of exile like an Asian Moses descending from his Himalayas to reveal the essential truths ... he has transformed himself into a worldly guru ... a sort of peddler specializing in ... amiable twaddle precisely calibrated to the taste of European  and American audiences." 

He came to champion the cause of his people suffering under Chinese occupation and to impart the wisdom of the East, but, whilst the Dalai Lama succeeded in making a meek and mild version of Buddhism fashionable, he emptied the former of any real urgency or history.

Being generous, one might conclude not that he sold out or betrayed the Tibetan people, but that he was, as Bruckner suggests, overly keen to be a performer in our own image.

  
 
See: Pascal Bruckner, Perpetual Euphoria, trans. Steven Rendall, (Princeton University Press, 2010), pp. 59-61.

 

Can't We Talk About This?

John Keane, The Death of Theo Van Gogh (2007)

www.johnkeaneart.com

In November 2004, Dutch filmmaker and provocateur Theo Van Gogh was brutally slaughtered on an Amsterdam street for his part in the making of a short film entitled Submission; a film which, primarily, examined the relationship that exists between Muslims and their God and asks how necessary reform of Islam might be possible when Allah demands absolute obedience to his laws, with no room for doubt or critical dissent amongst his worshipers.   

Having shot his victim multiple times, Van Gogh's devout assailant then cut his throat and attempted to decapitate him in front of horrified witnesses, before finally plunging the knife deep into the dead man's chest. Apparently, among the last words spoken by Van Gogh to his killer were: Can't we talk about this?

Ayaan Hirsi Ali - Van Gogh's friend and collaborator on Submission - writes: 

"It was so Dutch, so sweet and innocent. Theo must have thought there was some kind of misunderstanding that could be worked out. He couldn't see that his killer was caught in a wholly different worldview. Nothing Theo could have said to him would have made any difference."

- Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Infidel, (Pocket Books, 2008), p. 321   

I recount this deeply depressing incident by way of a response to a presentation recently given by John Holroyd on the topic of Islam.

Holroyd, a Dawkins, Harris, and Hitchens hating crypto-theologian, teaches philosophy and religious studies at a London college and is a man for whom these subjects are perfectly compatible, if not, indeed, one and the same thing. His paper, in essence, called for still greater dialogue between the West and the militant forces of Islamic extremism, thereby strangely echoing Van Gogh's naivety in the face of those who hate us, hate all that we love and hold dear, and mean to do us mortal harm.

Now, whilst I concede that it might be good to talk - and that loving one's enemies might be the Christian thing to do - sometimes, unfortunately, there's really nothing further to discuss and inasmuch as this loving of enemies can lead to a reluctance to actively combat the forces of murderous and reactionary violence, then Jesus's teaching might be said to result in immorality and risk the triumph of evil.   

Thus, rather than listen to Jesus, I'd sooner heed Michel Foucault who argued that fascism - whether it be political or religious in nature and whether found in the hearts and minds of others or, indeed, in our own acts and pleasures - must be vigorously resisted as an essential aspect of living an ethical life.

  

I Care - But I'm Not Mother Teresa

I care - but I'm not Mother Teresa.

What do I mean by this? 

I mean that, for me, there is nothing remotely uplifting about looking after someone who is in need of care and I'm not about to sacrifice myself entirely to this tiring and depressing task in the mistaken belief that by so doing I demonstrate Christian virtue.

For unlike Mother T - a woman once described by Christopher Hitchens as a corrupt Albanian dwarf who exploited the poor and dying as extras in her own obscene morality play - I don't confuse or conflate excremental reality with transcendental fantasy. 

Indeed, I agree with Hitchens that it's deeply offensive to fetishize pain and poverty and develop a voracious appetite for human wretchedness; to literally feed off shit and gain personal salvation via the suffering of others.

We have to demoralize our idea of sympathy; i.e. free it from ideal notions of pity and charity which transport us to the foot of the Cross.

And, ultimately, all it takes to do the right thing is a little politeness of the heart or what Nietzsche terms benevolence; kindness, kisses and kuddlz have played a far greater role in building a libidinal culture of compassion or phallic tenderness, than those more celebrated values preached by the Good.  

A Brief Note on Heaven and Hell

The Amusement of the Saints in Heaven

by Watson Heston

Proponents of heaven and hell usually have very little to tell us about the former; white clouds and robes, unfading flowers, and choirs of angels singing the praises of a God who sits on a large golden throne ... It's a place most memorably described by Christopher Hitchens as a celestial North Korea.

It's the latter destination, hell, that really excites the pornographic imagination of believers; all kinds of obscene torture, violent punishment and sexual humiliation are said to take place there, to say nothing of those caves and ragged clothing and the heat - my God the heat! - that so terrifies Elaine Benes.

And, to top it all off, above the gates of hell is a sign which, according to Dante, reads: Built in the Name of Eternal Love - words even more chilling than Arbeit macht frei.

Nietzsche, however, disputes this and says it displays a certain philosophical naivety on the part of the Italian poet. There is a sign, but it's placed rather above the entrance to heaven and the inscription reads: Built in the Name of Everlasting Hate.

For what guarantees the bliss of those in paradise is nothing other than the spectacle of suffering provided by those unfortunates - including family members and friends - burning below: Beati in regno colesti videbunt poenas damnatorum ut beatitudo illis magis complaceat, as Thomas Aquinas, the great Christian teacher and saint writes in pious Latin. The English translation reads:

"The blessed in the kingdom of heaven shall view the torment of the damned, so that they may better enjoy their own salvation." [Summa Theologiae]

Christianity did not discover cruelty as one of the great festive joys of mankind, nor did it invent the idea of an underworld, but only the Church sanctified cruelty in this manner and gloried perversely in torture porn as a form of moral righteousness.

From the Barbary Wars to the War on Terror

Decatur Boarding the Tripolitan Gunboat (1804), by Dennis Malone Carter  Source: Naval Historical Center, Dept. of the Navy, Washington Many people seem to believe that the violent struggle between America and the Islamic world began on that fateful day in September, 2001. But, as a matter of fact, there's a crucial historical context to the present conflict which predates 9/11.

Indeed, whilst some commentators argue that the US inadvertently helped to create IS due to its actions in Iraq and Afghanistan, for example, it's actually more accurate to say that the Arab-Muslim world has determined (and provoked) US armed foreign policy from the very beginning. To understand why this is so, it's necessary to look back to the time of the so-called Barbary Wars at the beginning of the 19th century ...  Deprived of Royal Navy protection following victory in the War of Independence, American merchant shipping became increasingly vulnerable to the attentions of those powers and pirates who controlled the seas along the Barbary Coast of North Africa. Not only were cargoes looted, but crews and passengers were kidnapped and either held for ransom, or sold into slavery. Thus, as early as the 1780s, America was obliged either to take military action, or submit to Arab aggression and the payment of ever-increasing sums of protection money, or 'tribute' as it was known.  Rightly, I believe, under the presidency of Thomas Jefferson, the US decided it had to fight. For not only is it mistaken and shameful to give into extortion, but there were also terrible reports at the time concerning the mistreatment of captured American citizens. And so a fleet was constructed and a new, permanent force of marines assembled.  Of course, Jefferson was primarily keen to secure American access to free trade routes and was not particularly interested in fighting a holy war or crusade against the Muslim states per se. However, as Christopher Hitchens points out, he must surely have remembered what he was told in 1785 when he and John Adams met with Tripoli's ambassador to London, Abd Al-Rahman: demanding to know by what right the Barbary states behaved as they did towards a newly born secular republic which had no quarrel with the Arab-Muslim world, they were informed that God gave them this authority and that it was written in the Quran that they were free to enslave or murder infidels.           Faced with such religious mania and intransigence, conflict was unavoidable. And so, between 1801 and 1805, was fought the first Barbary War. This was followed by a second skirmish over the same issues, directed by James Madison, in 1815. American victory not only meant the US no longer had to pay a percentage of its GNP to rogue states, it also helped bring about an end to piracy in the region which obviously benefited many other nations, including the UK. We should be grateful, therefore, for the courage of US marines on the shores of Tripoli two centuries ago. And we should be grateful that America is still prepared to step up when needs be and send its servicemen and women into battle.

On the Joy of Flirting and the Experience of Beauty

 Ayaan Hirsi Ali

 

Flirting is one of the great joys of life, which, regardless of intent, is always an innocent form of sexual play at the level of language and gesture; by this, I mean it lacks the consciously cruel and manipulative aspects of teasing.  

People who do not know how to flirt are like those who do not know how to laugh; they lack that insouciance which is so lovely in wild animals and flowering plants and in men and women who intuitively understand the mystery of beauty.

 

For beauty, ultimately, is the key thing: when we flirt, we communicate the happiness that arises out of an experience of beauty. We find others sexy and appealing when we find them beautiful. But, as Lawrence rightly argues, living beauty is not a fixed pattern or a conventional look which comes ready-made or photoshopped. This is why even the most skilled cosmetic surgeons fail to produce a truly beautiful face, despite an almost perfect arrangement of features. And this is why there's nothing flirtatious about a sex doll.

Because beauty is something felt and something which can be shared with others, even the plainest person can be beautiful and flirt successfully. On the other hand, even the most attractive person in the room can seem ugly and undesirable when they lack the warm glow of beauty and don't know how to communicate joy. Only when the sex-glow is missing, writes Lawrence, do people move in ugly coldness like "one of those ghastly living corpses which are unfortunately becoming more numerous in the world ... and whom everybody wants to avoid".

Today, it takes a rare woman to genuinely rouse a sense of loveliness; and a rare man to have the courage to respond to her loveliness and to flirt in a spirit that is neither lewd nor crude, but generous and playfully tender, with perhaps just a touch of irony. Luckily, however, there is an example of such to be found on YouTube and involves a very touching and amusing public encounter between Ayaan Hirsi Ali and Christopher Hitchens; he full of old school charm and she smiling and giggling in an almost coquettish manner.

Perhaps, as well as everything else, flirting is an important sign of freedom ...

Notes: 

Readers interested in viewing the encounter between Hitch and the very beautiful Ayaan Hirsi Ali at the American Enterprise Institute in Washington DC, on Feb 13 2007, should click here.

The line quoted from D. H. Lawrence can be found in the article 'Sex Appeal', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 146. 

Gandhi: Holy Fool and Hypocrite

It has been officially announced by government ministers on a visit to India that a statue of Gandhi is to be erected in Parliament Square. 

Obviously this shameful gesture is being made because Britain is keen to develop stronger commercial ties with one of the world's largest and fastest growing economies. But, according to the Chancellor, George Osborne, it's high-time Gandhi took his place in front of the Mother of Parliaments; his monument serving as an inspiration to people around the world and as a permanent reminder of the friendship between our two countries (this coming the day after a new £250m arms deal was signed). 

Gandhi might be thought of today as a peace-loving civil rights activist (thanks in no small part to Richard Attenborough's deceitful and sentimental 1982 film) - a saintly figure in a loincloth who courageously resisted violent imperialism - but this is a ludicrous caricature and his legacy is, arguably, a highly dubious one.      

Certainly it's worth remembering a few things about this shrewd but rather sinister and often cynical figure; a religious fanatic who wanted India to reject modernity and revert to a primitive 'spiritual' society; a holy fool who held bizarre views on sex, diet, and sleeping arrangements that were as much rooted in the puritanism of the late Victorian era as they were in ancient Hindu teachings.

           

For a start, Gandhi was initially a great supporter of the British Empire and an admirer of its power; he only changed his mind and called for Indian independence once he sensed the weakness of the latter and thus his own chance to succeed with a campaign of civil disobedience. During the First World War, for example, he joined a government campaign that encouraged Indians to enlist in the British Army. 

Similarly, when living in South Africa between the years 1893 and 1915, he supported the regime and its policy of racial segregation, merely petitioning for the increased rights of civilized Indian gentlemen like himself within the system. He certainly didn't advocate racial equality and did nothing for the black majority whom he referred to in his writings as kaffirs. 

Gandhi continued to express his attraction to (and flirtation with) powerful regimes during the Second World War, sending his dear friend Adolf Hitler a letter in which he expressed his conviction that the Führer was not the monster described by his enemies, but a brave and devoted nationalist obliged to commit unbecoming deeds. He openly called upon the British to Quit India in 1942, when they were critically and almost fatally weakened by their struggle with the fascist forces. In effect, therefore, Gandhi the pacifist allowed soldiers from the Imperial Japanese Army to do his fighting for him whilst he sat smiling at his spinning wheel.

Interestingly, as Christopher Hitchens notes, there was already in India at this time - and had been for decades - a strong alliance of secular leftists who had laid out the case and won the argument for Indian independence. Thus there was "never any need for an obscurantist religious figure to impose his ego on the process and both retard and distort it".

In a killer line, Hitchens concludes: "Just at the moment when what India most needed was a modern secular leader, it got a fakir and guru instead".

This is certainly regrettable, but, thanks to an assassin's bullet, at least Gandhi did not live to implement his Year Zero agenda which would surely have resulted in mass starvation and misery for tens of millions of people.   

     

That a British government - and a Conservative led government at that - should plan to erect a statue of this little weasel is deeply depressing.     

See: Christopher Hitchens, God is not Great, (Atlantic Books, 2008), pp. 184 and 183.

In Praise of the Pig

Whilst the dietary injunction against eating pork first arose in primitive Judea, it is within the Islamic world where the pig itself has become truly taboo; i.e. both hated and feared. This horror of all things pig is often taken to ridiculous extremes in an attempt to eradicate all thought of an animal that is to the Muslim mind an abomination. 

This is, like all taboos, absurd and something of a shame. For pigs are extremely versatile and loveable creatures; intelligent, social, and, when living in natural conditions, fastidiously clean. They are also, of course, closely related to us. Indeed, according to the American biologist Eugene MacCarthy, who specializes in hybrid evolution, humanity is the result of interspecies breeding between chimpanzees and pigs. 

This is a sensational claim, obviously, which has received a good deal of criticism and scorn from the scientific community, but the fact remains that we do share a great deal of DNA with our porcine cousins and this has allowed for successful organ transplant between pigs and people.

Perhaps it is this closeness which lies at the heart of the religious belief shared by many millions that the pig is diabolical and that - in the words of Christopher Hitchens - heaven hates ham. In a provocative passage, Hitchens counters the modern 'secular' explanation of the original Jewish prohibition to do with health and safety: 

"According to many ancient authorities, the attitude of early Semites to swine was one of reverence as much as disgust. The eating of pig flesh was considered as something special, even privileged and ritualistic. The simultaneous attraction and repulsion derived from an anthropomorphic root: the look of the pig, and the taste of the pig, and the dying yells of the pig, and the evident intelligence of the pig, were too uncomfortably reminiscent of the human. Porcophobia - and porcophilia - thus probably originate in a nighttime of human sacrifice and even cannibalism at which the 'holy' texts often do more than hint. Nothing optional [like bacon sandwiches or sodomy] is ever made punishable unless those who do the prohibiting (and exact the fierce punishments) have a repressed desire to participate."

- Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great, (Atlantic Books, 2008), p. 40.

In sum, the pig is a noble beast, dear to the hearts and palates of Europeans, and we should ignore demands by Muslim zealots to remove all traces of the pig from our culture. We should also, however, seriously reconsider our own treatment of the pig and end the disgusting cruelty of factory farming. They deserve better than to be vilified by those who allow religious superstition to distort their relationship to the animal world and they deserve more than being confined, separated from their young, and forced to live in their own waste. 

On the Need for a New Enlightenment

"One should never miss an opportunity to celebrate the Enlightenment ..." 

Christopher Hitchens

 

What is Enlightenment? For over two centuries this has been a question central to modernity; one which philosophy has, according to Foucault, never quite been able to answer, but never quite able to ignore either. From Kant and Hegel, through Nietzsche to Habermas and, indeed, Foucault himself, hardly any serious thinker has failed to confront this question, directly or indirectly.

And still today, the question was ist Aufklärung continues to resonate; in fact, it might even be said to have renewed urgency in a world that some describe (either with triumphant glee or horrified concern) as not only postmodern, but post-secular; i.e. a world that seems to be creeping at pace towards a new age of fundamentalist stupidity, having rejected the exit from superstition and prejudice offered by reason.

Having, briefly, dared to think and to question, we are once more asked in all seriousness to place faith in those who claim spiritual authority and would rule by divine right. All that social, cultural, and political upheaval and transformation in Europe and the New World - all that great work by men of science and men of letters to liberate themselves from the moral absurdities and disgusting bigotries of religion - and we end up in 2014 having to worry about offending the sensibilities of those who call for the implementation of sharia law.

It's deeply depressing to say the least. But it's also why one is obliged, as an atheist and anti-theist, to fight once more on all the old grounds: Marx was right, criticism of religion is the beginning of all criticism and they key to all freedom. To have done with the judgement of God is always the ultimate goal.

But, in order to achieve this objective, we need a new way of thinking and feeling, of acting and behaving - i.e. what the Greeks called an ethos - that in some manner refers back to the complex historical events that took place in the 18th century and which became known as the Enlightenment. 

This is not, as Foucault points out, a matter of subscribing slavishly to some kind of doctrine, or resurrecting a facile model of humanism; rather, it's the permanent reactivation of a philosophically critical and experimental attitude that interrogates everything and allows nothing to pass as self-evidently true (not even the Rights of Man).               

    

Ayn Rand: The Mme. Blavatsky of Wall Street

Ayn Rand (1905-1982)

Any figure whose work is scorned and amusingly dismissed by both Dorothy Parker and Lisa Simpson probably doesn't deserve to be taken seriously. And yet, depressingly, Ayn Rand continues to be read by a large number of people, many of whom seem to genuinely regard her as a visionary philosopher rather than a novelist of what Christopher Hitchens described as transcendent awfulness.

Her big idea of Objectivism asserts that rational self-interest should determine all human relations. In practice, this means an unqualified acceptance of laissez-faire economics and idealizing the heroic individual fighting for freedom and human greatness against the State and its regulations, as well as the hordes of resentful parasites (some of whom have facial hair) reliant upon his tax dollars in the form of welfare handouts and publicly-funded programmes of education and healthcare.

Not surprisingly, therefore, she has exerted a significant and somewhat sinister (almost cultish) influence on a number of conservative and libertarian figures; her first major literary success, The Fountainhead (1943), serving in Miss Simpson's words as "a bible for right-wing losers".

As for her fourth and final effort in the field of fiction, Atlas Shrugged (1957), considered by many to be her magnum opus, well, I cannot better Miss Parker's brilliant review which concludes: "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force".

I'm sorry Antoine, but your affection for this woman compromises my affection for you ... 

Two Blue Birds

"There was a woman who loved her husband, but she could not live with him. The husband, on his side, was sincerely attached to his wife, yet he could not live with her. ... They had the most sincere regard for one another, and felt, in some odd way, eternally married to one another. They knew each other more intimately than they knew anybody else, they felt more known to one another than to any other person.

      Yet they could not live together. Usually, they kept a thousand miles apart, geographically. But when he sat in the greyness of England, at the back of his mind, with a certain grim fidelity, he was aware of his wife ... away in the sun, in the south. ...

      So they remained friends, in the awful unspoken intimacy of the once married." 

- D. H. Lawrence, 'Two Blue Birds', in The Woman Who Rode Away and Other Stories, (CUP, 1995), p. 5. 

As a matter of fact, this is probably quite common - or at least more common than many might imagine. And I have a good deal of sympathy for Compton Mackenzie and his wife, Faith, whom Lawrence is sardonically taking a pop at here, having personally experienced (and survived) a relationship very similar to this one. 

It's not easy, but, if you can avoid the fall into private bitterness and secret resentment, you can, I'm very happy to say, eventually find a resolution to what sometimes seems an impossible situation: one that leaves you both free to move on and build new lives, but in which you continue to regard your ex with affection.

Doubtless, it's sometimes necessary to make a clean break with the past and discard those who have at one time or another been nearest and dearest. But as Christopher Hitchens points out, one of the melancholy lessons of advancing years is the realization that you can't make old friends.  

A Short Sermon on Anti-theism

The creeping religiosity of everyday life here in the UK - not to mention the appalling acts of violent atrocity carried out by the faithful all over the world - means that it unfortunately becomes necessary to voice a view on the subject. 

And so, for the record, my view is this:

(1) All the world's major religions wholly and often wilfully misrepresent the origins of the cosmos and of life on earth. Where they don't get things wrong due to the ignorance of their founders and prophets, they lie due to the desire of their priests and spiritual leaders to keep everyone else ignorant. 

(2) All the world's major religions are based upon anthropomorphic conceit and human arrogance and yet they all aim to make men, women and children subservient and fearful.

(3) All the world's major religions are forms of cruelty that exercise power over the mind by punishing and torturing the flesh via practices that include sexual repression, blood sacrifice, and genital mutilation.   

(4) All the world's major religions are nihilistic death cults that fantasise and call for the end of the world so that they might then establish a reign of saints and zombies afterlife, or achieve a state of total non-being. 

(5) Inasmuch as points 1-4 are true - and it seems to me that they are irrefutable - then we might legitimately conclude that all the world's major religions (and not just the monotheisms of Abrahamic origin) are forms of violent psychosis, or a hatred of the real. 

Thus, in my view, it is not sufficient to declare oneself agnostic on the question of religion, although, obviously, it is always preferable that an individual honestly admits their ignorance, rather than absurdly claim to know God's will. Nor is it enough, today, to simply call oneself an atheist: one has to actively declare an interest and take up the challenge by affirming nothing short of anti-theism in the courageous manner of Christopher Hitchens, for example, who wrote:

"I not only maintain that all religions are versions of the same untruth, but I hold that the influence of churches, and the effects of religious belief, is positively harmful."

- Letters to a Young Contrarian, (2001)

Like Hitchens, I think religion poisons everything and has been the one great curse upon mankind. If I could, I'd happily tear down every church, mosque, synagogue, temple, shrine or holy place and build schools, science museums, libraries, observatories, art galleries, theatres, gymnasia, dance academies and botanical gardens on the sites.  

As I am unable to do so, however, I simply encourage everyone to keep reading, keep thinking, keep laughing, and keep challenging all those who would establish earthly authority in the name of heavenly power.

The Bluebird

A bird came down the walk - he did not know I saw - 

he bit a little worm in half and ate the fellow, raw.

I like the colour blue: apart from navy blue, obviously. I also like most birds and yet I've woken up today with an intense dislike for the bluebird. 

Not the actual creature, but the symbol of hope and happiness who flies over rainbows and white cliffs, optimistically promising peace and freedom; a bird whose wings are so laden with schmaltz I'm surprised it can even get off the ground.

As Christopher Hitchens rightly said, any vision of Utopia is not only founded upon spurious moral sentiment, but is futile and dangerous in the long term. Idealistic ornithologists and songwriters might do well to remember that even the bluebird preys on spiders, grubs and other insects.