Aloha! Should Johnny Rotten Mind His Language?

Johnny singing his heart out on The Late Late Show Eurosong 2023 Special 

RTÉ Television Centre, Dublin (3 Feb 2023)

 

 

I. 

 

Sadly, Johnny Rotten has failed in his bid to emulate Johnny Logan and will not be representing Ireland in this year's Eurovision Song Contest. Somewhat ironically, the 67-year former Sex Pistol and his post-punk outfit Public Image Ltd., were defeated by a group calling themselves Wild Youth.    

The song that Rotten safety-pinned his hopes on - 'Hawaii' [1] - is described as a love letter to his 80-year-old wife, Nora, who - as he never tires of telling us - has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. 

 

Whilst the track with its refrain of remember me, I remember you, is certainly touching, one can't help but find it a rather feeble response to his wife's condition when compared, for example, to the ferocious song written in response to the cancer that killed his 46-year old mother, Eileen, in 1978.

There's nothing nostalgic or sentimental about 'Death Disco', as Rotten rages in despair at the dying of the light in his mother's eyes and watches as she lies choking on a bed, surrounded by rotting flowers [2].

 

His Eurovision entry, by contrast, is much more accepting that all journeys end and that all one is ultimately left with are memories of happier times - if one's lucky, that is, and dementia doesn't rob you of the past as well as aggressively restrict your ability to think and carry out everyday activities in the present.     

Perhaps, being generous, we might say that 'Hawaii' is the song of a more mature and reflective songwriter, whereas 'Death Disco' was the composition of a young man almost insane with anger. 

 

However, for all its poignant charm, 'Hawaii' still wasn't selected for Eurovision: in fact, it finished fourth out of the six songs competing and was given a lukewarm reception by the judges. But then, the Irish have never really accepted London-born Lydon as one of their own; he was even arrested in Dublin once, in 1980, and spent a weekend in Mountjoy prison on a trumped up charge. 

 

Still, maybe it's for the best that PiL didn't win the vote. For in this age of political correctness, certain voices have been raised in woke circles about the problematic use (or appropriation) of the word aloha by non-Hawaiian speakers like Lydon ...

 

 

II.  

 

In a recent article publised in USA Today, David Oliver suggests that it's time to stop using culturally sensitive words out of context [3]. Just because you can say hello in Hawaiian, writes Oliver, that doesn't automatically give you the right to do so. 

 

For aloha isn't merely a simple greeting. It has a profound (some might say sacred) meaning for native speakers, referring to a spiritual force that might be described as love, peace, or compassion; a force that is fundamental to existence. Aloha means recognising this force in oneself, in others and in all things.

 

I suppose a Heideggerian might identify aloha as an elementary term - i.e., one that speaks Being [4] - and it might be argued that it is devalued when coming from the mouth of a tourist, or someone who uses it simply to add a little exotic colour to a song lyric.

 

Personally, I wouldn't want to take this argument too far. However, I can agree that we all need to be cautious and respectful when using words that we don't fully understand and which speak others in their otherness; i.e., we all need to mind our language, as it were - even Mr. Rotten.      

 

 

Notes

[1] 'Hawaii', by Public Image Limited (John Lydon / Bruce Smith / Lu Edmonds / Scott Firth), will be released on vinyl as a limited edition 7" single later this year. To watch the official promo video, click here. Or to watch the band performing the song on The Late Late Show, click here. 

[2] 'Death Disco', by Public Image Limited (John Lydon / Keith Levene / Jah Wobble / Jim Walker), was a single release in June 1979 on Virgin Records: click here for the official video. An alternative version entitled 'Swan Lake' can be found on Metal Box (Virgin Records, 1979).  

 

[3] David Oliver, 'Is it time to stop saying "aloha" and other culturally sensitive words out of context?', USA Today (13 Jan 2023): click here. 

 

[4] For Heidegger, the ultimate task of philosophy is to preserve the force of the elementary words in which Dasein expresses itself. See Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (Blackwell, 2001), p. 262.

On the Use of Dialect as an Erotico-Elementary Language in D. H. Lawrence

An aged priest of love sharing terms 

from his phallic vocabulary 

Image by Realitees on teepublic.com

 

 

I. 

 

It has been suggested that the use of dialect in Lady Chatterley's Lover - liberally interspersed with expletives - is an attempt by D. H. Lawrence to construct an erotico-elementary language that is expressive of what he terms phallic tenderness. An attempt, in other words, to translate feeling and desire more directly - more authentically - into words; to speak straight from the heart rather than the head. 

 

Readers of the novel can decide for themselves how successful he is in this; whether, for example, it's a real advance in the poetics of courtship and amorous discourse for Mellors to tell Connie that she's "'the best bit o' cunt on earth'" and how pleasing it is to him that she shits an' pisses [1]. 

 

But I would like to make the following points, if I may ... 

 

 

II.

 

Firstly, I quite admire the refusal by Mellors to speak standard English - the language of his class enemies - at all times and in all circumstances, even though he is perfectly capable of so-doing. If his lapsing into the vernacular and use of profanity is partly a defensive mechanism, so too is it oppositional and defiant. Perhaps he even has a duty to try and articulate his thoughts and feelings in his own words as far as is possible - as do all those who pride themselves on their singularity.   

 

Having said that, I'm not sure how far we can (or should) take this. I don't, for example, like the idea of individuals or small groups of people - tribes - retreating into semi-private languages in order to uphold some narrow identity and exclude others. I'm not arguing for a universal language which would somehow absorb all others and allow only a single vision to be expressed in but one tongue, but I do like the idea of being able to communicate.        

 

Secondly, I'm dubious when Lawrence suggests that a mixture of East Midlands dialect and a sprinkling of obscenities allows Mellors to articulate desire and display a proper reverence for sex and the body's strange experiences. He can't, of course, provide any evidence for this; it's ultimately just a personal preference for the language of his childhood based upon an intuitive understanding of physical consciousness. 

 

I'm inclined to agree with Richard Rorty's dismissal of this type of fantasy as, at best, lacking in irony, or, at worst, politically reactionary:

 

"What is described as such a consciousness is simply a disposition to use the language of our ancestors, to worship the corpses of their metaphors. Unless we suffer from what Derrida calls 'Heideggerian nostalgia,' we shall not think of our 'intuitions' as more than platitudes, more than the habitual use of a certain repertoire of terms, more than old tools which as yet have no replacements." [2]      

 

The problem is, Lawrence does - on occasion - suffer from something pretty similar to this form of philosophical sickness. He trusts his intuitions and, more, he believes his phallic vocabulary does a huge amount of work; i.e., that words such as tenderness, touch, desire, and fuck can be employed to bring about a revolutionary change in society; that such terms have almost a magical power and that they are closer to some vital primal reality and constitute what he terms blood-knowledge (a kind of instinctive common sense).  

 

Heidegger designated such terms as elementary - although, obviously, he privileged very different ones from Lawrence - and in Being and Time he claims that the "ultimate business of philosophy is to preserve the force of the most elementary words in which Dasein expresses itself" [3]. 

 

Now, as I confessed in an earlier post [click here], there was a time when I found this kind of thing seductive if never entirely convincing: I wanted to believe that there was an occult litany of words, letters, and phonemes that might somehow tear up the foundations of the soul and shatter eardrums and law tables alike; a kind of Adamic language, if you like.  

 

But now I fear this is precisely the kind of linguistic mysticism that Heidegger paradoxically practised whilst also warning against - not least of all because it's open to ridicule. 

 

Indeed, whenever Mellors shouts out arse! cunt! balls! like an erotomaniac with Tourette's, he reminds one of Father Jack Hackett, the foul-mouthed, lecherous old priest played by Frank Kelly in the Channel 4 sitcom Father Ted. His attempted display of authenticity is, ultimately, full of transcendental pretension and, as such, is laughable; Connie's sister, Hilda, is right to find him (and his use of dialect) affected. 

 

 

III. 

 

In sum: Lady Chatterley's Lover is an attempt by Lawrence to bring together the personal and the political, by showing us how sexual self-discovery and social revolution could be united in one project articulated via a phallic narrative spoken by Oliver Mellors.

 

Like Heidegger, Lawrence "thought he knew some words which had, or should have had, resonance for everybody" [4]; words which were relevant not just to the fate of people who happened to share his concerns and obsessions, but to the public fate of the modern world. He was unable to believe that the words which meant so much to him - words rooted in the body - don't necessarily excite the same interest or call forth the same response in others (not even from amongst his most sympathetic readers).

 

As Rorty concludes: "There is no such list of elementary words, no universal litany. The elementariness of elementary words [...] is a private and idiosyncratic matter" and the democracy of touch is simply a beautiful attempt by a poet and novelist to "fend off thoughts of mortality with thoughts of affiliation and incarnation" [5].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), pp. 177 and 223. 

[2] Richard Rorty, Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, (Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 21-22. 

[3] Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (Blackwell, 2001), p. 262. 

[4] Richard Rorty, Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, p. 118. 

[5] Ibid., p. 119. 

 

 

This is a follow up to an earlier post on the use of dialect in D. H. Lawrence as a form of defensive communication: click here.  

Zarathustra and the Nightingale

One has to speak with thunder and heavenly fireworks to feeble and dormant senses, says Zarathustra.

If we interpret this injunction in a generous manner, it can be understood to mean that Nietzsche is interested in constructing a poetic post-metaphysical language that will enable the individual to break free from received conceptual schema and the moral-linguistic conventions of grammar and thereby find new ways of thinking and feeling. 

But, I have to say, it does sound a wee bit fascistic and shouty. Or, in a word, Wagnerian. The sort of thing that Dietrich Eckart might have had in mind when he created the Nazi battle slogan Deutschland Erwache!   

It also anticipates Heidegger, who claims in Being and Time that we must rediscover some form of primordial language from which to assemble a vocabulary of elementary terms that authentically speak Dasein. Philosophy's ultimate task, he says, is to preserve the force of these words and prevent them from being enfeebled and flattened within the common understanding.

I have to confess, there was a time when I found this kind of thing seductive if never entirely convincing: I wanted to believe that there was a universal (though secret) litany of magical words, letters, and phonemes that might somehow tear up the foundations of the soul and shatter eardrums and law tables alike, but I was never quite able to do so.

And what prevented me from embracing this mytho-religious idea of language was the following passage from Lawrence's Sketches of Etruscan Places:

"And before Buddha or Jesus spoke the nightingale sang, and long after the words of Jesus and Buddha are gone into oblivion, the nightingale will sing. Because it is neither preaching nor teaching nor commanding nor urging. It is just singing. And in the beginning was not a Word, but a chirrup."

- Sketches of Etruscan Places and Other Italian Essays, ed. Simonetta de Filippis, (CUP, 1992), p. 36.