Showing posts with label pascal bruckner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pascal bruckner. Show all posts

20 Jun 2019

Let a Thousand Flowers Bloom: On the Genealogy of Hippie Morals

Pippa McManus: Crazy Daisy Dreams (2017)
Flower Child Group Exhibition (12 Aug - 2 Sept 2017)
Modern Eden Gallery (San Francisco)


I. Summers of Love and Hate

As a punk rocker, the symbolism of the zip and safety pin means more to me than that of the groovy floral designs so beloved of the hippie generation. However, as the Summer of Hate is now as much part of ancient cultural history as the Summer of Love, it's easier to view both events with critical perspective and concede that wearing flowers in one's hair is probably preferable to having to remove spittle.

And, of course, as a floraphile, I very much approve of intimate relationships between plants and people and can see how one might wish to develop a green neo-pagan politics upon a love of flora - although, personally, I've no desire for universal peace and love and refuse to accept that flowers can only symbolise such benevolent (and naive) idealism.    


II. If You're Going to San Francisco ...

Back in '67, San Francisco was the epicentre of the hippie counterculture, a movement mostly composed of privileged white youths who temporarily dropped out and experimented with drugs, sex, and alternative lifestyles, before moderating their views and dropping back in again as corporate yuppies in the 1980s à la Jerry Rubin.           

Thanks to a strong economy, the hippies were able to spend their time getting stoned, listening to psychedelic music, reading Allen Ginsberg,* protesting against the Man, dreaming of revolution and generally indulging their narcissism. Some formed communes and attempted to live as far outside mainstream society as possible. It's easy to mock and tempting to despise these idealists with flowers in their hair, but they have had (for better or for worse) a wide and lasting impact and many of their ideas and values are now part of the liberal orthodoxy.

Interestingly, the American author Robert Anton Wilson suggests that the hippies can be characterised as unearthly angels whose psychology manifests friendly weakness. Such people are kind, passive, generous and trusting. But they are also easily led and secretly in search of authority (which might explain the obsession with gurus and, indeed, why Charles Manson was able to wield such control over his extended Family of followers).  


III. On the Genealogy of Hippie Morals

I say their values, but, as the sociologist Bennett Berger pointed out at the time, there's nothing very new or uniquely hippie about the morality of the flower children. Their movement was merely another expression of the 19th-century bohemianism that the literary critic Malcolm Cowley had reduced to a relatively formal doctrine with several key ideas, some of which we might (briefly) summarise as follows:

(i) Only a Child Can Save Us

This first point, found in Christianity and Romanticism as well as flower power philosophy, continues to resonate today; thus the astonishing rise to global fame of Greta Thunberg, for example. The idea is that the innocent child is born with special potentialities which are systematically repressed by society. If they could only be left to blossom naturally and develop their personalities, then the world might yet be saved and humanity redeemed. 

(ii) Express Yourself (Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey)

When hippies claim the right to do their own thing, they are, of course, simply reviving the idea that the moral duty of each person is to express themselves and realise their full potential as individuals via some form of creative activity. Or smoking weed. Madonna was still churning out such bullshit twenty years after the Summer of Love.       

(iii) Paganism Good / Christianity Bad

The idea that paganism is a happy, innocent worship of the natural world that regards the body as a temple in which there is nothing unclean, whilst Christianity, in contrast, is a morally repressive and anti-sexual religion is one that I used to subscribe to myself. But then I read Michel Foucault on power, pleasure, and Christian ascesis and realised that things aren't so simple; that the difference between Graeco-Roman (i.e. pagan) and early Christian forms of self-disciplining cannot be established in terms of a fundamental distinction or dialectic. Ultimately, even the Nietzschean binary of Dionysus versus the Crucified has to be deconstructed.    

(iv) Seize the Day, Man

The idea of living spontaneously and for the moment is crucial to hippie philosophy; the immediacy of the present or the nowness of the Now is where it's at; the past and future are just abstractions and what D. H. Lawrence calls the quick of time is contained only in the instant. We have the Roman poet Horace to thank for this: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero ...  But whether it's ever very wise listening to a poet (or Robin Williams) is debatable; doesn't it all just end in the sanctioned hedonism of consumer society and a Nike slogan?

(v) Free Love

Ah, the so-called sexual revolution of the sixties ... Again, part of a long tradition carried on by individuals who objected to the state having any say over matters such as marriage, contraception, sexual orientation, etc. What an individual chose to do with his or her body was, they argued, entirely up to them. The great hope was that sexual liberation would lead to greater freedom in all spheres of life and bring about profound social, political, and cultural change. Again, I used to subscribe to this, but then I read Foucault and realised that the politics of desire involves a naive and mistaken understanding of sex, power, and subjectivity thanks to our unquestioning belief in what he terms the repressive hypothesis.   

(vi) Romantic Primitivism and Exotic Otherness 

Finally, the hippies were of course anti-Western and believed that spiritual enlightenment either lay in Asia (and involved transcendental meditation and taking lots of drugs), or with native Americans who combined tribal wisdom with noble savagery. Embarrassingly, I also used to buy into this in my Kings of the Wild Frontier/Nostalgia of Mud period. But now, I'm wise to the culture cult and refuse the tyranny of guilt identified by Pascal Buckner.

Indeed, now, not only would I never trust a hippie, I'd never trust a punk, pagan, or poet either (even though I used to self-identify as a combination of all three during the 1980s).


* Note: In an essay written in 1965, Ginsberg advocated that anti-war rallies should become non-violent spectacles and that hippie protesters should be provided with masses of flowers to be handed out to political opponents, police, press, and members of the public. Thanks to activists like Abbie Hoffman, this idea of flower power quickly spread and became an important expression of hippie ideology. It also led to some iconic images, as flower-wielding protesters were confronted by armed force.


See: 

Bennett M. Berger, 'Hippie morality - more old than new', Society, Vol. 5, Issue 2 (December, 1967), pp. 19-27. Note that Society was entitled Transaction at this time.

Malcolm Cowley, Exiles Return, (W. W. Norton, 1934). The Penguin edition (1994), ed. Donald W. Faulkner, is perhaps more readily available.

Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising, (Falcon Press, 1983), p. 55. 

Play: San Francisco, sung by Scott McKenzie, written by John Phillips, (Ode Records, May 1967), the unofficial anthem of the flower power generation: click here. It's a pleasant enough tune, but like Sid Vicious I was busy playing with my Action Man whilst all this was going on.

    

26 Apr 2017

The Rape of Africa: David LaChapelle's Reimagining of Botticelli's Venus and Mars

Botticelli: Venus and Mars (c. 1483)
Tempera and oil on panel, 69 cm x 173 cm


Botticelli's Venus and Mars is an acknowledged masterpiece of the Italian Renaissance, depicting the Roman goddess Venus and her divine lover, Mars, in a blissful post-coital scene.

The conventional interpretation is that she has left him powerless and exhausted; that her feminine charms have triumphed over masculine brute force and that in order to experience what D. H. Lawrence terms the peace of fucking, it's necessary for men to lay down their arms and make love, not war.

One might suggest, however, that what Botticelli playfully exposes is naked male conceit. Happy to lie back and sleep after doing the deed, Mars is as vainly content with his sexual prowess as with his virtues as a warrior. Venus, meanwhile, is left to look on unsatisfied and disappointed; for maybe when stripped of his weapons and his armour, Mars wasn't all she'd hoped him to be (the limpness of his right hand betraying all we need to know).

However we choose to read it, the painting is undoubtedly one of the jewels in the collection of The National Gallery, London, and I would encourage anyone who hasn't seen it to do so, should they be fortunate enough to have the opportunity. I would also encourage readers to view David LaChapelle's provocative reimagining of the work, entitled The Rape of Africa:

    
David LaChapelle: The Rape of Africa (2009)
Digital image ft. Naomi Campbell as Venus and Caleb Lane as Mars 


LaChapelle's picture, featuring Naomi Campbell in the role of a Black Venus (and rape victim), is a pomo-political allegory, which, like most of his work - both as a commercial fashion photographer and as a serious artist-cum-activist - is visually stunning, but lacking in subtlety for all its knowing sophistication and obsessive attention to detail.

As critics have noted, the work also leaves nothing to the imagination and is weighed down by its own aesthetic excess - crammed full as it is of various objects serving a crude symbolic function and a rich saturation of colours - and by its moral-political idealism. In the end, if you look at it for too long, you start to feel a tiny bit queasy; but it's only when you consider the latter that you seriously want to vomit.    

For this photo is not, alas, the visual equivalent of Conrad's Heart of Darkness. At best, it simply repeats the refrain made famous by Edwin Starr and attempts to foster white guilt over the three evils of racism, imperialism and colonialism. Viewers might also notice the large piece of earth digging machinery working away at a gold mine, reminding us of the environmental cost of consumer capitalism (aka Western greed).    

I understand LaChapelle's ambition to create a more substantial, more socially aware body of work beyond the frivolous worlds of pop, celebrity, and fashion - and I wish him every success. But, really, David, we can do without the political posturing, the crocodile tears and the shameless hypocrisy.

Ultimately, The Rape of Africa is another example of that sentimental compassion which Pascal Bruckner rightly identifies as an insidious form of contempt.    


26 May 2015

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.

 

7 Nov 2014

Skinny Mannequin Sparks Outrage



The curious and often heated debate over the size and shape of shop-window dummies is raging once again, following the appearance of a new model in Topshop (second from left in the above image) and a tweet from outraged customer Betty Hopper.

Now, whilst I understand the issue here and can see how display units might (somewhat naively) be thought of as plastic versions of real women and thus, like fashion models, be caught up in the discussion around body image and eating disorders, are stores really promoting anorexia as an aspirational lifestyle by using skinny mannequins? I don't think so. 

In fact, I have more than a little sympathy with those who argue that solid fibreglass mannequins are not meant to be viewed as ideal role models and have more in common with clothes hangers than they do with flesh-and-blood women. Usually, any realistic elements are outweighed by the abstract and frequently headless nature of the design.

In a statement issued by Topshop with reference to the mannequin in question, it's calmly pointed out that "the form is a stylized one designed to have greater impact in store and create a visual focus". The statement continues by saying that the mannequin primarily exists to display clothes and its dimensions simply enable faster dressing and undressing; "it is therefore not meant to be a representation of the average female body".

That's a little disingenuous perhaps, but it's by no means false or an outright lie and I think those who get overexcited on social media and start speaking about 'impressionable teens', or body-shaming those girls who are happily waif-like with their offensive assertion that real women have curves, need to keep things in perspective and be careful what they say.

Not that it's just possibly envious members of the twitterati who make nasty remarks about those girls judged to be underweight; I was surprised and disappointed to read Pascal Bruckner's negative characterization of fashion models as "flat-chested beanpoles". Is the woman with a "fuller-figure" he appears to lust after really a taboo in our society? Again, I don't think so.

Finally, if "emaciated mannequins" (another of Bruckner's pet peeves) cause anorexia and represent the triumph of ascetic idealism's dream of disembodiment, then mightn't plus-size dummies promote obesity?

The Chief Medical Officer, Dame Sally Davies, certainly thinks so and recently warned that the increasing use of larger mannequins (along with size inflation of labelling) were starting to normalize overweight. This might be a slightly absurd and simplistic claim, but no more so than the one made about the Topshop mannequin. 


20 Sept 2014

On the Will to Happiness

Image from the video of young Iranians 
dancing to Happy by Pharrell Williams


A group of young people, arrested in May of this year for making a film of themselves dancing in the streets and on the rooftops of Tehran whilst singing along to the Pharrell Williams huge summer hit, Happy, have been convicted of offending public chastity and encouraging illicit relations.

Six of those involved - including the director of the video, Sassan Soleimani - were sentenced by a court to six months in prison and a public flogging. The seventh participant, Reyhaneh Taravati, received an additional six months jail-time for possessing alcohol and posting the video on YouTube.

The sentences have been suspended for three years, but, really, the arrest, the charges, the trial, and the conviction are all so unnecessary and unjust. Not only was there a predictable international outcry, but even the Iranian President, Hassan Rouhani, was moved to defend the seven on Twitter where he wrote: 'We shouldn't be too hard on behaviours caused by joy.'

Obviously, I agree with this. But, I'm somewhat troubled by another tweeted remark made by Rouhani to the effect that happiness is a human right. This worries me, as it seems to feed into the universal cult of what Pascal Bruckner terms perpetual euphoria and by which he refers to a situation in which happiness is no longer just a pleasant but transient emotion that often arrives unbidden, but an ideal state that one is required to seek out and experience as a kind of duty. 

Thanks to the californication of the world, we're obliged to wear a happy smiling face all day, every day and to clap along with modern pop hymns - such as the one written by Pharrell Williams - which encourage us to believe that happiness is a form of truth to which we must devote (and possibly even sacrifice) ourselves; that there ain't nothing gonna bring us down baby!

So, whilst I don't like restrictions on freedom of expression - and certainly don't wish to be thought of as a puritanical opponent of music, dance, and laughter -  I do think we would all be better off if we accepted that there's more to life than happiness. 

Indeed, even sorrow and suffering must surely be accepted and affirmed, if our lives are to be as rich, varied, and fulfilling as human lives have the potential to be. 


28 Aug 2014

La tyrannie de la pénitence

Princeton University Press (2010)


Described by Douglas Murray as one of the landmark books of our time, Pascal Bruckner's The Tyranny of Guilt develops a line of argument that he first advanced two decades earlier in The Tears of the White Man. Namely, that the Western world has spent the last sixty years so consumed by remorse for its own history that it is now on the verge of apologizing itself out of existence.    

Our self-hatred and self-contempt is matched only by our sentimental insistence on the innocence and innate moral goodness of those peoples upon whom we once imposed our imperial values and the evils of slavery, racism, and genocide; evils which, mistakenly, the West now believes it invented and have a monopoly on.

Nietzsche describes this pathology of guilt, shame, and self-division as bad conscience and whilst Bruckner doesn't refer directly to the second essay of the Genealogy, he acknowledges that Nietzsche understood better than most how the internalization of cruelty, practiced so remorselessly within Judeo-Christian culture, was continuing within secular liberal society; intensifying the pain and creating a duty of repentance.       

Bruckner seeks to understand this phenomenon and how it unfolds in the world today. And, importantly, he attempts to counter it by offering us some theoretical tools of opposition. Of course, to his enemies - and he has many - this attempt at a revaluation of values within the West is seen as reactionary and ethnocentric. He is accused in France of neo-conservatism and Islamophobia due to his opposition to multiculturalism, his staunch defence of Ayaan Hirsi Ali, and his admiration for the United States. 

But accusations such as this are as tiresome and as trite as they are predictable. Bruckner may not get everything right, but he deserves to be read and taken seriously. The Tyranny of Guilt is a brave, lucid, and provocative text that challenges readers not only to think - but to care and be concerned about the world in which they live. 

 
Note: Pascal Bruckner studied under Roland Barthes and belongs to that generation of French intellectuals who emerged during the 1970s known as les nouveaux philosophes. He is the award-winning author of many works of fiction and non-fiction, including the novel Lunes de fiel (1981), which was made into a little remembered film, Bitter Moon (1992), directed by Roman Polanski, starring Hugh Grant and Kristin Scott Thomas.


23 Aug 2014

Reconsidering the New Philosophers

BHL: king of the nouveaux philosophes 
 Photo: Corbis / Richard Melloul


Les nouveaux philosophes are members of a generation rather than a school or group of French thinkers who came to prominence in the 1970s and include Bernard Henri Lévy, André Glucksmann, and Pascal Bruckner. 

If they decisively rejected Marx on the one hand, they had little time for Nietzsche on the other - or, indeed, for any writers whose work all-too-conveniently lends itself to non-democratic systems of power and authority. Politically, they can thus be described as neo-liberals who unashamedly subscribe to the ideals of the Enlightenment.  

Perhaps not surprisingly, Deleuze hated them. Indeed, in a famous text dated 5 June 1977 and given away free in bookstores in an attempt to counter the growing popularity of the New Philosophers, he claimed their thought was entirely devoid of real ideas, even if full of puffed-up concepts and large egos: 

"This wholesale return to the author, to an empty and vain subject, as well as to gross conceptual stereotypes, represents a troubling reactionary development." [139-40]

The reason for their success, Deleuze explained, was because the New Philosophers were media-savvy and  understood how to market themselves and their works in a brilliant fashion. They effectively turned themselves into a brand and theory into a form of journalism or a series of soundbites perfect for TV. And this, says Deleuze, is conformist to the highest degree and marks a humiliating submission of thought.       

For Deleuze, the New Philosophers pissed on the events of May 68 and declared revolution - which is only another word for vital creativity - impossible; where once a little breeze was blowing, now there was a closed window:

"This is the total negation of politics and experiment ... the New Philosophers incarnate the disease that is trying to stifle all that. There is nothing alive in their work, but they will have fulfilled their function if they can occupy centre stage long enough to give whatever is creative the kiss of death." [147]

Deleuze has one more problem with the New Philosophers apart from the fact that they are TV-buffoons and their work is, in his view, shit. And that is that their humanism is overtly moral in tone and feeds off the suffering of others:

"What I find really disgusting is that the New Philosophers are writing a martyrology: the Gulag and the victims of history. They live off corpses. They have discovered the witness-function ... But there would never have been any victims if the victims had thought or spoken like our New Philosophers. The victims had to live and think in a totally different way to provide the material that so moves the New Philosophers, who weep in their name, think in their name, and give us moral lessons in their name. Those who risk their life most often think in terms of life, not death, not bitterness, and not morbid vanity." [144-45]

Now, to be fair, I think Deleuze makes some valid points here and raises important concerns. Whenever one sees BHL, for example, interviewed on TV looking like a playboy intellectual and pleading the case for humanitarian intervention whilst promoting his latest book, one does feel a little creeped out.

Having said that, however, I can't help feeling that the New Philosophers do have import and that André Glucksmann's book Les maitres penseurs (1977) posed a crucial question: How had he, like many others of his generation, been so prone to murderous political fantasies and what role did texts by some of the great thinkers of philosophy play in this? As James Miller points out:

"Whatever its other merits, Glucksmann's book was a trenchant piece of self-criticism. The totalitarian impulse, as he stressed, was not something external, to be smugly denounced as it appeared in others; rather, this impulse affected everyone. Each of us was 'dual', caught in the snares of power, and prey to the temptation to abuse it. And 'if one takes account of this internal division', he concluded, 'it becomes impossible to imagine a single, ultimate revolution ...'"

Obviously such thinking infuriated Deleuze, but Foucault, however, was far more sympathetic and in a review of Glucksmann's book he praised the younger thinker and conceded that the revolutionary ideal itself needed to be questioned - be it in its Marxist or Dionysian form. Without explicitly saying so, Foucault was ratifying Glucksmann's move away from Maoism towards liberalism and, by so doing, furthering a philosophical and political rift between himself and Deleuze.

This took intellectual courage and integrity on Foucault's part I think. And, also, looking back from where we find ourselves today, it was the right thing to have done and not just a brave and honest move. In the final years of his life, Foucault helped inspire a new style of political conduct and commitment (acute, but cautious). André Glucksmann rightly praised him after his death in 1984 for breaking with the terrorist radicalism of the theoretical avant-garde.

This is something we have all had to learn to do ...           


Notes

The interview with Gilles Deleuze from which I quote - 'On the New Philosophers (Plus a More General Problem)' - can be found in Two Regimes of Madness, ed. David Lapoujade, trans. Ames Hodges and Mike Taormina, (Semiotext(e), 2006). 

The passage from James Miller is taken from The Passion of Michel Foucault, (Flamingo, 1994), p. 296.