Showing posts with label madness and civilization. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madness and civilization. Show all posts

6 Oct 2023

Madness and Animality: Notes on Therianthropy

Theta-Delta: a widely acknowledged symbol 
of therianthropy created in 2003
 
 
I.
 
Thanks to the internet, an entire sub-culture has developed that has adopted the word therianthropy [1] to describe a sense of spiritual or psychological identification with a non-human animal. Members of this sub-culture typically refer to themselves as therianthropes, or, simply, therians
 
Because therianthropy is often a very individual matter, there are no fixed rules governing what it does and doesn't involve. This can make it a rather difficult subject of which to speak - particularly for outsiders such as myself. However, I shall do my best (with apologies in advance to any therians reading who might find what I say crass, mistaken, or offensive).  
 
 
II.
 
Perhaps the first question that arises is: How do therians understand their non-human side and how does this relate to their human aspect; is it separated or integrated, experienced mutually or exclusively? 
 
Those who are keen to promote a more esoteric understanding of therianthropy, believe that they either partly or fully possess the spirit or soul of an animal. Such persons often draw inspiration from stories of shape-shifting found in Celtic, Norse, and Native American mythologies and argue that they are reviving an ancient shamanic tradition.
 
On the other hand, those therians who prefer a more material explanation of their condition argue for some peculiarity in their neurophysiology, or perhaps suggest a genetic difference. Some even adopt concepts such as species dsyphoria and transspeciesism.
 
But most therians, however, are content to accept that what they are engaged in is simply fantasy and/or a sometimes extreme form of role play. 
 
 
III.
 
Usually, therians identify with a single species of animal. And the species with which a particular therian identifies is sometimes referred to as that individual's theriotype.
 
However, there are those - known as cladotherianthropes - who identify with all members of an animal family and even some who (schizophrenically) identify with a whole menagerie of completely dissimilar creatures. 
 
It comes as little surprise to discover that the majority of therians identify with large felines and canines, such as tigers and wolves. But there are some who identify in non-mammalian terms as reptiles, birds, or even insects (the latter overly-identifying perhaps with Gregor Samsa). 
 
 
IV.
 
Another term often heard in therian circles is shifting ... One which is used to signify a radical change of perception and cognitive outlook following a move made from human to nonhuman identity. 
 
This shift may be partial or complete, substantial or subtle, but it is always subjectively dramatic unless one happens to be a contherianthrope; a term coined to refer to those individuals who feel that rather than shifting between human and nonhuman ways of being, they always embody and experience both forms simultaneously and have merged human and animal aspects into a single integrated whole. 
 
For contherianthropes, shifting, if the term means anything, is akin to a mild change of mood.
 
More controversially is the claim made by some therianthropes that they undergo an actual physical change to their appearance. This, however, is very much a minority view and most people - both within the therianthrope sub-culture and outside it - remain sceptical that gross physical transformations à la Lawrence Talbot can actually occur. 
 
 
V.
 
The question that ultimately arises is: Are therians mentally disturbed? 
 
By which I mean, can therians be characterised as individuals who manifest a clinically significant disturbance in their cognition, emotional regulation, and/or behaviour that is usually associated with distress or impairment in important areas of functioning?
 
The answer, I suppose, depends ... 
 
For whilst some therians can legitimately be labelled as schizophrenic, struggling as they seem to be with a serious dissociative identity disorder - and whilst a rare few might even be diagnosed as suffering from clinical lycanthropy, a condition in which the subject fully believes he or she has transformed into an animal and behaves in a manner that seriously impacts upon their ability to function socially - the majority of therianthropes are probably suffering no more than a type of body dysmorphia. 
 
That is to say, a non-clinical condition which, whilst resulting in an acute dissatisfaction with their human form and appearance, is ultimately little different from the feeling experienced by those who seek gender reassignment or wish to undergo other types of surgical and non-surgical body modification, for example. 
 
Personally, I don't have a problem with such people and find those who do raise objections on moral and/or pseudo-medical grounds, as far more disturbed and disturbing. But it does lead into the wider debate concerning madness and animality, which is interestingly addressed by Foucault in his work Madness and Civilization (1964) [2] ...
 
 
VI. 
 
For Foucault, animality - like insanity - is a constructed category that is determined differently in different times and places. During the Middle Ages, he writes, "legions of animals, named once and for all by Adam, symbolically bear the values of humanity" [3]
 
But, by the beginning of the Renaissance, "animality has escaped domestication by human symbols and values; and it is animality that reveals the dark rage, the sterile madness that lie in men's hearts" [4]
 
Animality and wildness were now firmly linked, but still the mad were thought to embody some of the more positive qualities of animals, making them potential sources not only of inhuman passion, but also divine revelation. This, however, was to radically change in what Foucault thinks of as the Classical Age of Reason (c.1650-1800). 
 
During this period, madness was completely "divested of spiritual and pedagogic value" [5] and whereas animality "once had value as the sign of the extra-worldly" [6] it was now simply identified as a form of inferior being and degraded existence. Those who now gave themselves over to madness and behaved like wild beasts, would be denied human status and all the accompanying privileges; they would be treated like animals and subjected to harsh disciplinary training: 
 
"Those chained to the cell walls were no longer men whose minds had wandered, but beasts preyed upon by a natural frenzy: as if madness, at its extreme point […] managed to rejoin […] the immediate violence of animality.” [7]
 
For Foucault, the dehumanization process is crucial here and has the following meaning: it shows that man no longer has any deep fear of (or respect for) the animal and that "animal metamorphosis is no longer the visible sign of infernal powers" [8]
 
Foucault continues: 
 
"The animal in man no longer has any value as the sign of a Beyond; it has become his madness, without relation to anything but itself … The animality that rages in madness dispossesses man of what is specifically human in him; not in order to deliver him over to other powers, but simply to establish him at the zero degree of his own nature. For classicism, madness in its ultimate form is man in immediate relation to his animality […]" [9]
 
The 18th-century is the great century of the animal-madmen - as it is of vampires and werewolves - the century of lunatics with superhuman strength that protected them from ill health and extreme conditions of hunger, cold, and pain (thus they had no need for adequate food or clothing, or for kind treatment); the century in which the treatment of the insane is based upon the perceived need not to restore the human element, but to eradicate it entirely. 
 
For only when the madman has completely become a beast, can the true scandal of madness, which is the presence of the animal in man, be resolved. 
 
 
VII.
 
Where, then, does this leave us? 
 
Well, in a sense, I kind of admire those therianthropes and other lunatics today who defiantly declare themselves to be beasts; perhaps it takes a certain degree of courage as well as mania to travel to the very edge of humanity and into an unnatural animal becoming, if only as a mad fantasy. 
 
The category of animality will undoubtedly one day be constructed differently; perhaps we will even come to value and admire animals once more. But in the meantime, for any man or woman to identify themselves as a therian is to say in a Rimbaud-like manner: I am a beast, and I am of an inferior species for all eternity [10]
 
 
Lon Chaney Jr. as Lawrence Talbot 
in The Wolf Man (1941)
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Therianthropy is a generic term for any transformation of a human being into another animal form, derived from the Greek terms, therion, meaning beast and anthrōpos, meaning man. Often, the term lycanthropy - which, strictly speaking, refers to were-wolfism - is used as a virtual synonym, but I prefer to use the former term in order to avoid confusion.
 
[2] Focault's work was originlly published in 1961 as Folie et Déraison: Histoire de la folie à l'âge classique. The 1964 English translation by Richard Howard was an abridged version of this book. I am using the 2004 Routledge edition of this text. 
 
[3] Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization, p. 18.
 
[4] Ibid.
 
[5] Matthew Calarco and Peter Atterton, 'The Animal Question in Continental Philosophy', an introduction to Animal Philosophy, ed. Peter Atterton and Matthew Calarco, (Continuum, 2004), p. xxi.
 
[6] Ibid.
 
[7] Foucault, Madness and Civilization, p. 68. 
 
[8] Ibid., p. 69.
 
[9]  Ibid.
 
[10] I'm paraphrasing Rimbaud writing in his extended prose poem Une Saison en Enfer (1873); see the section translated into English as 'Bad Blood' where he confesses that he has always belonged to an inferior race
 

This material is a revised extract from 'In the Company of Wolves: Animal Transformation Fantasy', Chapter 5 of Zoophilia, Vol. III of The Treadwell's Papers (Blind Cupid Press, 2010). 
      
A related post to this one on the furry fandom and otherkin - also taken from the above work - can be read here.  


8 Oct 2022

Black Daisies for Lorrie Millington (Or One Flew Over the Duck's Nest)

 
"I remember nights when we were young / They weren't very good they were rubbish   
Running round Highroyds isn't fun / Just teenagers testing their courage" [1] 
 
 
I.
 
Exactly 134 years ago today - the 8th of October, 1888 - High Royds Hospital was opened on the 300-acre estate that had been purchased three years earlier just south of the village of Menston, in West Yorkshire, approximately 11 miles from Leeds. 
 
The large stone complex, designed by J. Vickers Edwards in the High Gothic style that many Victorian architects favoured, was built to house those individuals who had the misfortune to be both poor and insane - as indicated by its original name of the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum. 
 
High Royds was intended to be a self-contained and self-sufficient community; there were in-house butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers and there was also a cobbler's workshop, a dairy, and a farm-cum-market garden. 
 
Patients were expected - if able - to earn their own keep by providing labour, either on the farm, in the kitchens, or in the laundry room. They were also encouraged to learn various handicrafts, such as basket weaving, or make use of the extensive library.
 
In other words, it was the sort of place that Michel Foucault writes of in Madness and Civilization, his classic study of insanity in the Age of Reason [2]. And it was to become the sort of place that depraved sexual predator Jimmy Saville loved to visit [3]
 
The administration building, which is now Grade II listed, features a beautiful Italian mosaic floor in the main corridor, intricately decorated with the white Yorkshire Rose and - somewhat macabrely - black daisies [4].  
 
 
II.
 
Some of you might be asking at this point what any of this has to do with me ... 
 
Well, it just so happens, that I spent some time at High Royds in 1984 - not as a patient (fortunately), but as a visitor to my quasi-girlfriend Lorrie Millington [5], who was, unfortunately, confined there for two-and-a-half months.   
 
Anyway, for those who are interested, here are excerpts from several diary entries written at the time:
 
 
Monday 30 January, 1984
 
Received a letter from Lorrie. It turns out the reason I hadn't heard from or seen her around town lately is because she's been banged up in a mental hospital for the past three weeks! Happily, she says she's recovering, but still has to take a lot of pills (for epilepsy and various other things). 
      In the evening, I telephoned the hospital - High Royds - and asked to speak to her. After some initial confusion - it turns out her surname is Gatford, not Millington - they put her on the line. It was great to hear her voice and she sounded well. I think she was happy to hear from me, too; asked if I would visit her tomorrow and I agreed. I do hope she's going to be okay and can get out of the hospital soon. Very much looking forward to seeing her. 
 
Tuesday 31 January, 1984    
 
Having agreed to get to the hospital at 6-ish, I was obliged to skip yet another lecture.
      Bought some tulips for Lorrie en route; no idea if that's appropriate when visiting a patient in an asylum, but surely no one can object to flowers -? They might make you sneeze if you're allergic to pollen, I suppose, but unlikely to trigger a psychotic episode (though, having said that, one thinks of Vincent and his sunflowers). Just to be on the safe side, also got her some chocolates (After Eights). 
      The 731 bus took me straight to High Royds. Forbidding place - it took me ten minutes to find the entrance (and another five minutes to find the courage to pass through it). Couldn't help wondering how easy it would be to escape if ever confined in such an institution. Inside there were patients and staff wandering around - not sure who made me feel the most uneasy. 
      Found Lorrie - and she looked well, though very different with her natural hair colour. She didn't approve of the fact I'd recently dyed my hair orange, but she did appreciate the flowers and chocolates. Drank tea and chatted for three hours. She has such a lovely voice and soft accent; find it very sexy. Funny enough, she was probably more coherent than I've ever known her. Maybe we should all have a stay at a happy house! Kissed her goodbye and agreed to visit again soon.    
        
Thursday 2 February, 1984
 
Back to High Royds. Found Lorrie sitting with Keith, one of the people she shares a house with [6]. He's okay, but a bit quiet and uninspiring; always dressed in all black and likes indie music. Don't think he appreciated my being there, but fuck 'im, as they say; he's not her boyfriend after all ...? 
      Lorrie looked good, but was far more manic this evening. Before leaving, she insisted that I take some photos of her - and made Keith take one of me and her together. As well as the pics, I also took a greatest hits album by Rolf Harris that was lying around the recreation room. When I got home, sat playing that until after midnight ... 'Two Little Boys', 'Tie Me Kangaroo Down', 'Jake the Peg', etc. Not sure these are the kind of songs that assist with mental well being, so convinced myself I had done a good thing by stealing it from the hospital.                
 
Tuesday 7 February, 1984 
 
On an absolutely freezing evening, made my way once more to High Royds. Keith was there again, but soon left. I respect the fact that he visits Lorrie regularly (maybe he is her boyfriend).
      Lorrie was in a bad mood, but insisted on going to a disco event that was being held for patients. That was certainly an experience - literally a lunatics ball! Deeply disturbing, although it made Lorrie laugh when someone came up to me and made violent stabbing gestures in my direction with both fists. A member of staff assured me that he was only doing the monster mash!
      Back on the ward, Lorrie was much more loving. She's desperate to leave the hospital now and I don't blame her. But I'm not confident they'll discharge her at the end of this week as she hopes; experience has taught me to never trust what doctors say. Went home feeling depressed and - as much as I want to continue seeing and supporting Miss Millington - not sure I can face going back to High Royds [7].   
 

High Royds Hospital (2 Feb 1984)


Notes
 
[1] These lines form the first verse of the song 'Highroyds' by the Kaiser Chiefs, an indie rock band from Leeds. The track can be found on the album Yours Truly, Angry Mob, (B-Unique Records, 2007). Three members of the group - Nick Hodgson, Nick Baines and Simon Rix - used to attend a school that was opposite High Royds Hospital. The lyrics, written by Ricky Wilson and Andrew White, are © Universal Music Publishing Group. Click here to play.
 
[2] This work - translated into an abridged English edition by Richard Howard in 1964 - was originally published as Folie et Déraison: Histoire de la folie à l'âge classique in 1961. 
      Foucault traces the rise of the modern asylum in which those designated as crazy are confined under the supervision of medical professionals, so as to be studied and subjected to therapeutic procedures in an attempt to cure them of their illness (whilst also protecting the society from which they were removed).
      Although seemingly more enlightened and compassionate in the clinical treatment of insane people, Foucault shows how the modern mental hospital nevertheless remained as cruel and controlling as any other institution established and run on similar lines - be it a boarding school, a workhouse, or a prison.  
 
[3] The official report into the Saville case reveals that he did in fact commit an act of sexual assault at High Royds Hospital in the 1980s, during a fancy dress fun run. It has also been alleged that he groped patients and members of staff on other occasions.
 
[4] These fleurs du mal provided inspiration for the title of Tony Harrison's 1993 screenplay Black Daisies for the Bride - a beautiful but disturbing work using verse and song to examine the lives of three women coping with Alzheimer's. The work was filmed in High Royds (dir. Peter Symes) and shown on BBC Two in 1994: click here to watch on YouTube via the High Royds Hospital digital archive.       

[5] I have written of Lorraine Millington (aka Lori Gatford) several times on Torpedo the Ark; see here, for example, or, more recently, here
 
[6] Keith Gregory went on to become the bass guitarist in The Wedding Present, a band he formed with vocalist and guitarist Dave Gedge in 1985 and who I tried (unsuccessfully) to get signed to Charisma Records (I was informed their jangly guitar sound was passé ... the band, however, went on to have 18 Top 40 hits).    
 
[7] As a matter of fact, I made three more visits to see Lorrie at the hospital - Tuesday 14 February, Thursday 1 March, and Thursday 15 March - before she was finally discharged on Monday 19th of March, 1984. 
 
 
High Royds Hospital 
(as I still see it in my nightmares)
       
 
Afternote: Readers might be interested to know that, following numerous complaints about conditions at the hospital, High Royds was eventually deemed unfit for purpose (i.e., no longer  able to provide proper care); this was acknowledged by the chief executive of Leeds Mental Health in 1999. After services were transferred to other hospitals, High Royds closed in 2003. It has since been converted into a residential development called Chevin Park.
 
 

4 Jul 2020

Ghost Variations: Notes on the Madness of Robert Schumann

Robert Schumann (1810-1856) 
German Romantic composer, critic, and madman


In the season two episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Jacket' [1], George has a catchy tune from Les Misérables stuck in his head which he can't stop singing: Master of the house, doling out the charm / Ready with a handshake and an open palm ...

Jerry warns him that the ninteenth century composer Robert Schumann went mad after just a single note earwormed its way into his mind and he involuntarily heard it playing over and over again. Obviously, George doesn't find this story very reassuring - Oh that I really needed to hear! - but is it true?

The short answer is yes: Schumann did go insane and have to be institutionalised; and he did hear a persistent A-note at the end of his life as well as other increasingly disturbing auditory hallucinations.

Thus it was, for example, that on one cold winter's night in February 1854, the composer leapt from his bed and began feverishly attempting to set down a melody that he believed at first was being dictated by the very angels of heaven. By morning, however, he was convinced that what he actually heard were the hideous cries of demonic beasts.

Whatever the true source of his inspiration [2], the melody became the basis of the six piano variations - known today as the Geistervariationen - that were the last thing he wrote before his final crack-up. They thus occupy a unique (and somewhat disturbing) place in his body of work - as, indeed, in the history of classical music. 

On 27 February, Schumann attempted suicide by throwing himself from a bridge into the Rhine. Rescued by a passing boat and taken home, he requested that he be admitted to an asylum for the insane. Here he remained until his death, aged 46, in the summer of 1856. During his confinement, although his friend Brahms had permission to visit, Schumann wasn't allowed to see his wife, Clara, until two days before his death.

The cause of his death - just like the cause of his madness [3] - is something that has been endlessly discussed ever since; was he schizophrenic or syphilitic? Did he have a bipolar disorder or were his neurological problems the result of a brain tumour of some kind? Was it pneumonia or mercury poisoning - mercury being a common treatment for syphilis at the time - which finally did him in?   

I suppose we'll never really know. But what we might do - and should do - is resist the urge of some commentators to regurgitate the romantic vomit and tired narratives regarding the genius and madness of artists ...

The view that creativity is rooted in or fatefully tied to madness is such bullshit. Artists may well think differently from most other people - that is to say, they may be neurologically divergent and able to experience the world from a wide array of queer perspectives (to delight in paradox, inconsistency, and even chaos), - but it's banal (and mistaken) to reduce this (or their heightened sensitivity) to mental illness.       

Ultimately, I return to Michel Foucault's conclusion in Madness and Civilization: the onset of madness marks the point at which creative work ends; a moment of abolition that dissolves the truth of the work of art [4].  


Notes

[1] Seinfeld, 'The Jacket' [S2/E3], dir. Tom Cherones, written by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld, (first broadcast 6 February 1991). Click here to watch a clip from the episode on YouTube.

[2] Sadly, Schumann's mind had deteriorated to such a degree by this point, that he was unable to recognise that - far from being the work of angels, ghosts, or demons - the melody was in fact one of his own, written several months earlier.

[3] I'm taking Schumann's mental health issues - evident from a young age - as a given here, but, interestingly, there are critics such as John Worthen who vigorously challenge this idea. For Worthen the composer's tragic deterioration was rooted in a physical condition (syphilis) and was not a form of madness per se. See: Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician (Yale University Press, 2007).

[4] Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization trans. Richard Howard, (Vintage Books, 1988), p. 287.

3 Mar 2016

Dementia: From Bad to Verse


People who leave the obscure and try to define 
whatever it is that goes on in their heads, are pigs.

 
Living Words is a therapeutic arts organisation, created in 2007 by the writer Susanna Howard, which works with people - like my mother - who are dealing with dementia and the accompanying loss of speech skills and other neuro-cognitive functions.

The belief is that even the most delirious babbling should be regarded as valid expression and that by recording and faithfully transcribing what is said, you might produce a form of poetry in which the truth of madness, as well as the inner world of the person, is revealed. This, says Howard, is her great mission.

Of course, as she admits, the process involves editing. But, Howard insists, there is nothing added and no meddling; the meaning of the text is present in the utterance of the speaker and simply allowed to shine forth on the page with transparent authenticity.

I am, of course, extremely skeptical about all this - to say the least.

It's not that I think it impossible to establish a dialogue with those who can but stammer imperfect words and noises without fixed syntax, or the recognised logic of language. And I certainly don't wish to abandon anyone to silent oblivion, if they still desperately desire to communicate (although, having said that, I must admit to finding something beautiful in the total silence of the object).

Rather, my main concern is that there's a real danger in the Living Words project of subscribing to the romantic myth of madness; particularly in relation to the (equally romantic) myths of art and creative genius. Howard is profoundly mistaken in believing that every single word or sound that falls from a madman's lips is worthy of respect and only needs to be sculpted by an artist-in-residence in order to produce poetry and truth.

For as Foucault was at pains to point out in the conclusion to his history of insanity in the Age of Reason, whilst the madness of Nietzsche, or Van Gogh, or Artaud belongs to their work, their work does not belong to madness. That is to say, madness is precisely the absence of art and its annihilation; "the point where it becomes impossible and where it must fall silent ..."

Foucault continues:

"Madness is the absolute break with the work of art; it forms the constitutive moment of abolition ... it draws the exterior edge, the line of dissolution, the contour against the void. ... Madness is no longer the space of indecision through which it was possible to glimpse the original truth of the work of art, but the decision beyond which this truth ceases irrevocably ..."

And - let's be honest here - the Living Words team are not dealing with figures such as Nietzsche, Van Gogh, and Artaud; the poets they encounter in the various hospitals and care homes have very little of any philosophical interest or artistic merit to contribute, be they sane, senile, or somewhere in between.

Of course, not that this really matters: Toute l'écriture est de la cochonnerie.


Notes

Michel Foucault; Madness and Civilization, trans. Richard Howard, (Tavistock Publications, 1987). Lines quoted are on p. 287. 

Those interested in knowing more about the Living Words project should click here to visit their website.

Many thanks to Simon Solomon for suggesting this topic.