O For a Slice of Possum and Yam!

I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten

Look away, look away, look away, Dixieland [1]

 

 

I.

 

I don't know for sure when the utopian fantasy of Dixie first entered my imagination as a child, or why it has remained there ever since. I've never been to the American South and it's unlikely I ever will. But I've always dreamed of doing so ...

 

 

II. 

 

I suspect I first heard of this mytho-cultural region [2] in the classic Laurel and Hardy film Way Out West (1937). 

 

At the end of the movie, their troubles over, Stan and Ollie - accompanied by a young women on a mule - decide to head way down south where the hens are doggone glad to lay / scrambled eggs in the new mown hay ... [3] 

 

I don't know if that's true about the hens, but it illustrates the thing that people in the Southern States pride themselves on and value above all else: hospitality.     

   

III.     

 

Southern hospitality - like much else associated with Dixie - is today sneered at and cast in a negative political light. The courtesy, kindness, and generosity shown to strangers was founded, it is pointed out, on a system of slavery:

 

"African Americans had little place in this initial conceptualization of hospitality beyond the role of servant. Yet, it was the labor and hardships of the enslaved that allowed southern planters to entertain their guests so lavishly and seemingly so effortlessly. Southern hospitality from and for whites was in large part achieved by being inhospitable and inhumane to African Americans." [4] 

 

This (apparent) contradiction is usually presented as evidence of the corruption and hypocrisy of Southern society in the antebellum era, but it could be seen to provide a justification for slavery - if one wished to misinterpret the above somewhat perversely.

 

At any rate, one is reminded of Nietzsche's contention that, contrary to the liberal belief that slavery and suffering are morally objectionable and that society should therefore do everything in its power to eradicate these twin evils, culture requires cruelty ... [5]    

 

 

13-starred variant of the first national flag of

the Confederate States of America (1861-1865)

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lyrics from I Wish I Was in Dixie (1859), by Dan Emmett (1815-1904). 

      If best remembered today as the composer of this song, Emmett was also founder of the Virginia Minstrels, the first troupe of performers in this tradition. To listen to a contemporary version of Dixie, sung by Bob Dylan, click here.

 

[2] Obviously, Dixie - or, if you prefer, Dixieland - isn't purely a mytho-cultural fantasy. But whilst it refers to the Southern States, there's no agreement about which ones; i.e., there's no clear or official definition of which states constitute the region, although most people would agree that, at the very least, it includes (or at one time included) the eleven states which seceded from the Union to form the Confederacy in 1860-61: South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, Virginia, Arkansas, North Carolina, and Tennessee. 

      I have to admit, I like the idea that the location and boundaries of Dixie have, over time, become increasingly subjective and variable. I like also that the origins of the term Dixie are themselves obscure and disputed. 

 

[3] As they set off on their journey, the happy trio break into their version of the Irving Berlin / Ted Snyder song, I Want to Be in Dixie (1912): click here.

 

[4] Derek H. Alderman and E. Arnold Modlin Jr., 'Southern hospitality and the politics of African American belonging: an analysis of North Carolina tourism brochure photographs', Journal of Cultural Geography, Vol. 30, No. 1, (2012), pp. 6-31. The lines quoted are on p. 12. Click here to read as a pdf online.

      For a book-length study of this topic, see: Anthony Szczesiul, The Southern Hospitality Myth: Ethics, Politics, Race, and American Memory, (University of Georgia Press, 2017).      

[5] Nietzsche's thoughts on this topic are explicit and he doesn't shy away from drawing the social and political implications of his view that a high level of culture requires discipline, breeding, and hierarchy; that man needs what is most evil in him for what is best in him.

      Of course, the good people of the South, such as Alexander H. Stephens, who vehemently defended the institution of slavery, based their arguments for white supremacy on spurious racial science, the so-called laws of nature, and biblical teaching; not Nietzschean philosophy. Similarly, when it came to being hospitable, they acted in the name of Jesus, not Zarathustra, and their good deeds were a reflection of their Christian beliefs. 

      It's difficult to imagine Nietzsche siding with the Confederacy, therefore, although there are some scholars, such as Martin A. Rhuel - a lecturer in German intellectual history at Cambridge - who would disagree. See his essay 'In defence of slavery: Nietzsche's dangerous thinking', in the Independent (12 January 2018): click here.         

Cat and Mauss (Reflections on the Notion of the Gift)

SA: The Gift (2019)

The Cat - not my cat, as, contrary to what she seems to think (and despite the amount of time she spends sitting in the garden or walking freely about the house), I'm not her owner or ultimately responsible for her wellbeing - has finally discovered her hunting instinct and got into the habit of bringing me the fruits of her deadly pursuits; i.e. the sorry-looking corpses of little birds and small mammals (the picture above is this morning's offering). 

This feline form of gifting reminds one of the work of the French sociologist Marcel Mauss ... 

II.

Mauss was, at one time, the go-to-guy for those interested in a socio-anthropological perspective on questions to do with magic, sacrifice, and symbolic exchange in different cultures around the world. His short 1925 text entitled The Gift* was influential for many other thinkers, including Lévi-Strauss, Bataille, Baudrillard, and Derrida, who were all interested in notions of reciprocity in one form or another.** 

Whilst Mauss's essay focuses on how the exchange of objects between individuals and groups helps build relationships within human society, I think at least some of his arguments can be applied to what is happening with me and the Cat. I give her shelter and tins of Purina Gourmet Gold and she reciprocates with scratches, bites, fleas, the occasional friendly gesture, and now dead rodents deposited and displayed on the lawn.   

I don't know if she's genuinely sharing her kills with me as an act of kindness, or simply trying to tell me something about her tastes - is it, for example, a demand for greater freshness? Whatever it's meaning, it suddenly seems very important to her and even if rather inconvenient for me, I like the idea of an interspecies exchange across that gulf of being that divides us.

That said, I'm not entirely sure I see this ritualistic game in wholly positive terms; there seems to be at least an element of challenge or provocation on her part - something a bit potlatchy.

Further, I'm not sure we can simply turn a blind eye to the fact that her gifts have in fact been tortured and killed, which is ethically problematic to say the least. But then on the other hand (or paw), all culture is founded on cruelty and it would be foolish to expect a moggie to subscribe to moral humanism.  

Notes

* Mauss's original text was entitled Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l'échange dans les sociétés archaïques and was published in L'Année Sociologique in 1925. The essay was later republished in French in 1950 and first translated into English in 1954 by Ian Cunnison (this translation is now in the public domain so can be found online: click here).  

A more recent translation, by W. D. Halls, was published by Routledge in 1990 and an expanded edition of The Gift, trans. Jane I. Guyer was published by HAU Books (and distributed by the University of Chicago Press) in 2016: click here for more details.

** See, for example, the following works by the authors mentioned here:

Claude Lévi-Strauss, Introduction to the Work of Marcel Mauss, trans. Felicity Baker, (Routledge, 1987).

Georges Bataille, The Accursed Share, trans. Robert Hurley, (Zone Books, 1988).

Jean Baudrillard, Symbolic Exchange and Death, trans. Iain Hamilton Grant, (Sage Publications, 1993).

Jacques Derrida, Given Time 1: Counterfeit Money, trans. Peggy Kamuf, (University of Chicago Press, 1992).

Strange Fruit: an All-American Festival of Cruelty

Thomas Shipp and Abram Smith, lynched in Marion, Indiana, on August 7, 1930 

Photo by Lawrence H. Beitler

According to Nietzsche, cruelty is one of the great festive joys of mankind. Put simply, we delight in the suffering of others and in witnessing the public exercise of power in all its spectacular brutality.

Not only is human history written in blood, but even human culture is ultimately no more than a refined form of torture; a method of inscribing the body with certain spiritual values on which we ironically pride ourselves as signs of our moral superiority as a race or species.  

In addition, displays of cruelty are also ways of keeping those who are despised as inferior and feared as other in their place.

This is perfectly demonstrated by the lynching of African-Americans in the United States during the 19th and 20th centuries; a targeted practice of violence and terrorism, largely tolerated by officialdom, designed to enforce and encode white superiority and traumatize the emancipated black population.              

Between 1870 and 1950 - i.e. the great age of modernity - an estimated 4,000 people were lynched in the (mostly) Southern states. And these murders were not committed secretly or in private, but openly before excited spectators who delighted in seeing strange fruit dangling from the trees.

The sociologists Tolnay and Beck, authors of A Festival of Violence (1995), describe how public these events were:

"Large crowds of white people, often numbering in the thousands and including elected officials and prominent citizens, gathered to witness pre-planned, heinous killings that featured prolonged torture, mutilation, dismemberment, and/or burning of the victim. White press justified and promoted these carnival like events, with vendors selling food, printers producing postcards featuring photographs of the lynching and corpse, and the victim’s body parts collected as souvenirs."

Thus, more than merely an effective mechanism of socio-economic control or a method of killing uppity niggers, lynching has to be seen also as a celebratory act of self-affirmation on behalf of clean-living, hard-working, law-abiding, God-fearing white folk; as American as apple pie.


Notes

The above photo by Lawrence Beitler inspired the poem Bitter Fruit (1937) by Abel Meeropol, which became better known as the song Strange Fruit after being set to music and recorded by Billie Holiday in 1939. Click here to watch her performing it.  

For Nietzsche's thoughts on culture and cruelty, see On the Genealogy of Morality, ed. Keith Ansell-Pearson, (Cambridge University Press, 1994).

See also: Stewart E. Tolnay and E. M. Beck, A Festival of Violence: An Analysis of Southern Lynchings, 1882-1930 (University of Illinois Press, 1995). 

On Dance as a Method of Becoming-Bird

 Anorexic Ballerina by Mexxkid 

deviantart.com 

What, ultimately, is dance, if not a method of becoming-bird; that is to say, a way in which the human being learns how to experience the incredible sensation of taking flight? This is why the connection between the ballerina and the swan is more than a delightful metaphor and why ballet is more than merely a form of entertainment. 

Spectators are right to be amazed by what they see on the stage, but if they press on beyond their astonishment at what young bodies can do, they'll discover that within classical dance is a profound experimental and ascetic practice, or what Amélie Nothomb describes as a fearsome ideal - one capable of ravaging the flesh and acting upon the mind like a drug.

Nothomb is right to understand ballet as a becoming-bird of the human being (although mistaken to think of this in the molar terms of species transformation). She's right also to stress the elements of violence and delirium, discipline and madness. Which is why it's not entirely outrageous to describe ballet training as a form of child abuse, involving psychological terror and physical maltreatment; a regime in which injuries are routinely ignored, eating disorders discreetly encouraged, and young dancers placed under constant pressure to push themselves beyond their own limits in order to develop wings.

As Nietzsche says, if you would teach young girls to fly in defiance of the spirit of gravity, you must first hollow out their bones and remove all obstacles to their becoming-bird: it is better to live in freedom with nothing to eat, than un-free and over-stuffed. 

However - crucially - Nietzsche also counsels taking things slowly: She who wants to learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and to walk and to run and climb ... and for these things you need strong legs and a healthy body. You can be thinspired, but anorexia is not the answer and there's no virtue in physical deprivation (no salvation through starvation).