Michel Foucault's Simplest of Pleasures

 

Portrait by Rinaldo Hopf (2004)

Michel Foucault was always deeply attracted to the idea of suicide as one he could darkly caress and think of primarily as an aesthetic question, rather than as a moral problem. He encouraged everyone to carefully choose and prepare their own death: to arrange the details and shape it into a work of art.

Of course, he appreciated the fact that suicide doesn't always result in a beautiful corpse and there are often discouraging traces left behind. It's obviously not very nice to have to hang yourself in the kitchen and leave a blue tongue sticking out of your mouth; or to jump from your eighth floor apartment and leave tiny bits of brain on the pavement for the local dogs to sniff at. Having said that, much of this unpleasantness could be avoided if we revalued suicide and made it easier and acceptable to kill oneself. 

In an interview entitled The Simplest of Pleasures, Foucault envisions a time and a people to come who have accorded suicide the highest status. Such people will hold suicide festivals and suicide orgies and establish places where those planning on suicide can seek out potential partners.

Indeed, Foucault says if he were to win a fortune in the lottery, he would personally open a suicide hotel where people who wanted to die could go and spend a weekend, enjoying themselves as far as possible before happily checking-out, liberated of every identity.

To think of suicide in this manner - as a question of style and as something not only admirable, but chic and playful - dissolves the depressing interiority that those who would make of life and death a tedious psychodrama insist upon. Death should not be another opportunity to pass judgement; nor should it be turned into a banal biological fact with which to smother the imagination. 

And suicide should not be left to a minority of unhappy souls who frequently make a mess of it and thereby bring the entire concept into disrepute. Each one of us needs to address the issue of how best to make an exit from this life - not waste time asking why it has to happen, or praying there's an afterlife.

The Voyeur

 Illustration by Joe Shuster

The voyeur takes the imperial gaze to its erotic conclusion. By watching lovers fuck, he exercises his power to probe and master bodies and assign meaning to otherwise insignificant sexual activity. 

The voyeur is always a solitary figure, watching in private and unbeknown to at least one of the parties observed. Crucially, he has no desire to join in. For his pleasure derives exclusively from the fact that, like a god, he has learnt the art of what Nietzsche terms immaculate perception.

For the voyeur, the greatest thing is to look at life without desire and not stare, as a dog does, with its tongue hanging out. 

Ooh Matron!

The figure of the nurse plays an important role within the pornographic imagination, where she is usually conceived either as a kindly angel who administers some form of erotic relief, or as the cruel representative of strict and punishing authority delighting in needles and cold latex gloves.

But, for the British, reared as they have been within a Carry On culture, the figure of the nurse also plays an important role within the comic imagination. 

And so it's virtually impossible - unless you're as humourless as many perverts are - to take the sexual stereotype seriously for long: fetishistic medical fantasies are invariably undermined by fond memories of Hattie Jacques.

Ecstasy

We should be extremely wary of those attempts to conceive of the overman as corresponding to the possibility of an ecstatic break from humanity. Zarathustra explicitly warns against the thought of a transcendent leap into the future.

In fact, it's arguable that what is most needed today is some form of counter-ecstatic return to the flesh; a stepping back into material life and the rejection of all forms of idealism that would abstract us away from the world of physical objects that we might touch.

For the key to constructing an active and ethical life is to remain, says Lawrence, inside your own skin and not pretend that you're any bigger than you actually are. To overcome ourselves we need not become more hu-man or superhuman, but less so; more animal, complete with teeth and guts and genitals and all those things which our idealists hope to see shrivel away.

And so, like Anna Brangwen, I hold on to the little things that save me from being swept up helplessly into the Abstract and the Universal. I don't want to get outside myself, or go around open-mouthed with a strange, ecstatic grin like a true believer. 

A Transpolitical Afterword

To my surprise, I discovered last night at a wine bar in St James's, that there are still intelligent people in the world prepared to discuss politics as traditionally understood and practised, despite the fact that we have entered a transpolitical era. They might not have been entirely sober when doing so - but they were almost certainly serious.

For one reason or another, they seemed unprepared to accept - or, in some cases, incapable of accepting - what the radical confusion of formerly fixed and distinct political categories, ideologies, and identities might signify. It was as if the last forty years had changed nothing at all. Or as if Baudrillard had never written a word!

However, like it or not, we are rapidly approaching what the latter describes as the zero point of politics; a stage in which everything that formerly held truth and value in the political sphere has been emptied of all sense. Not that this marks the end of history, or the end of man; rather, it simply results in the interminable illusion of the end and the simulation of phantom events on the world stage broadcast in real time on 24-hour news channels.

Henceforth, attempts to do politics, or discuss politics, are increasingly doomed to failure. And if many people don't bother to vote, it's not because they are apathetic or cynical, but, for the most part, indifferent to a system in which it has become impossible to believe. Parliament, I'm afraid, is beginning to resemble a huge HMV store: a place that holds no great interest and serves no real purpose. 

Revenge of the Immortals

One of the more controversial ideas that Baudrillard put forward was the final solution, by which he referred to the extermination of sex and death and the return of humanity to a desexualized, non-individuated state of being prior to our becoming mortal and discontinuous.

Thanks to recent scientific advances, this dream of becoming-amoeba, or, as it is more commonly called, cloning, is no longer simply the stuff of fiction or neo-Platonic fantasy. There seems to be a general acceptance of the fact that we are about to be replaced either by machines, or a new species which will be sexless and immortal. No one seems particularly troubled by the prospect of a transhuman future and, ironically, whilst we speak endlessly about the right to life, it is the right to death that is being taken from us. 

In a crucial passage, Baudrillard notes: 

"Contrary to everything we ordinarily believe, nature first created immortal beings, and it was only by winning the battle for death that we became the living beings that we are. Blindly, we dream of defeating death and achieving immortality, whereas that is our most tragic destiny, a destiny inscribed in the previous life of our cells."

     - Impossible Exchange, trans. Chris Turner, (Verso, 2001), pp. 27-8

Relating his theories of evolution and cloning not only to the history of Western metaphysics, but also to modern sexual politics, Baudrillard argues that by dissociating erotic activity from procreation and reproduction from sex, fucking is increasingly regarded as a useless function; just as gender differences become irrelevant. 

Death too, it seems, is fated to become a useless function and, in the longer term, something inconceivable. Perhaps the time will come when the beings who come after us will try to understand something of our joys and sorrows by simulating a virtual experience of mortality; perhaps they will long nostalgically for nights shaken with terror and ecstasy and for what Houellebecq terms the possibility of an island.   

Come Not with Kisses: Leda, Lawrence and the Swan

Max Sauco: Leda and Her Swan 

D. H. Lawrence wrote four very lovely and at times very amusing poems based on the Leda myth. Taken together, these verses are significantly more interesting than the more-widely read poem written by Yeats on this same woman and bird coupling, projecting as they do the idea into a transhuman future in which the new Helen is imagined not as some semi-divine beauty, but as a human-animal hybrid or chimera, compete with green webbed-feet made to smite the waters of an unknown world.

Lawrence is not entirely happy with his own vision, however. For within the curious world of Lawrentian zoology the swan has ambiguous status and often features alongside snakes, newts, and beetles as one of the animals he associates with corruption:

"With its reptile feet buried in the ooze ... its beauty white and cold and terrifying ... it is for us a flame of the cold white fire of flux, the phosphorescence of corruption ... This is  the beauty of the swan ... this cold white salty fire of infinite reduction."

       

- 'The Crown', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, (CUP, 1988), p. 293 

Thus, for Lawrence, when humanity seeks its fulfilment in avisodomy this is not merely a sign of our perversion, but also indicative of a kind of death drive.

Whether we agree or disagree with Lawrence's analysis of becoming-animal in terms of regression and nostalgie de la boue, at least, to his credit and unlike many pure-minded scholars who refuse to discuss the zoosexual aspects of the Leda myth, he doesn't shy away from the question of why sensitive men and women might desire to fuck with birds and beasts, rather than one another.

And besides, who's to say that the Übermensch won't be born of a swan-princess in a time of corruption?

Why Bataille's Work Remains Crucial

André Breton was not the last to describe and attempt to dismiss Bataille as an excremental philosopher. But such a characterization, whilst not entirely unfair or inaccurate, nevertheless fails to appreciate that it is precisely because the latter obsessively returns us to the idea that life is no more than a moment of temporary stabilization before the collapse back into the filth and chaos from which it arose, that his books say the essential and are essential.  

We need to have our noses rubbed in the fact that there is ultimately no difference between the magnificence and splendour of the sun and a coffin full of shit. Idealists like André Breton may not like it, but flies, dung-beetles, and base matter of every description belongs to the same general economy as all that he finds noble and elevated. 

In the end, what makes us beautiful and keeps us sane as human beings, is not the fact that we are capable of moral and aesthetic grandeur, but that we leave stains upon our underwear. It's the mind's inability to accept this fact and it's sense of disgust when faced with evidence of the body's physicality that is problematic and shameful. 

Like Heidegger, Bataille realised that thinking doesn't overcome metaphysics by attempting to transcend it in some manner; on the contrary, thinking overcomes metaphysics by climbing back down Pisgah and substantiating itself in the touch of bodies and the strangeness of objects. 

And so it's only when, like a young child, you can happily parade a lump of dog shit on a stick in the knowledge that here too the gods come to presence, that you'll be able to affirm the world as it is; with flowers that fade and corpses that rot.

How Even Witches Lose Their Charm

The Malleus Maleficarum is clear on one point above all others: witchcraft results from insatiable carnal lust and is therefore a form of sexual depravity as well as religious heresy. 

Thus it was widely accepted in the early modern period that witches copulated with demons and that their rituals involved obscene and unnatural acts including masturbation, bestiality, and feasting on the flesh of infants. Via a potent combination of sodomy and sorcery, witches threatened to subvert the very foundations of the moral and political order of society and this made them wicked, dangerous - and fascinating. 

But what of witchcraft today?

Alas, if many practitioners are to be believed, it has become a depressingly tame affair: few covens now insist upon nudity, or practice the more controversial rites involving sex and scourging. And far from providing a rare opportunity to form a perverse relationship with the satanic, pagan witchcraft merely affords the chance to commune with a loving Nature and explore methods of spiritual self-discovery and personal development.

The Dionysian frenzy of the orgy and the blasphemous humour of the black mass has given way to a New Age theology that upholds many of the same stupidities and myths that govern conventional thinking. Wicca, I'm sorry to say, is a humanism. And the witch, far from being a figure who inspires terror, is often now just a Twilight-reading Barbie Goth hardly deserving of the name.  

The Politics of Friendship

Nietzsche has some interesting things to teach us about the concept of friendship; not least of all when he insists on the importance of maintaining a degree of enmity towards those we hold dear. It is never enough, he argues, to learn how to love your enemies - for that is merely Christian - one must also learn how to hate one's friends. 

And so, with that in mind, here are four short fragments of affectionate animosity.

Simon 

Overqualified and overblown he stumbles and tumbles
from wine bar to seminar pissing his promise away.

And those are buttons
that were his eyes.

Thomas

Remote and raptorious you sit

unspeaking at table's end.

Your bald head and bare neck

obscenely suggestive.

Perhaps you were once young,

but now you are old and an

eater of putrescence.

Mark

I know your type: with those finely curved lips

and boyish charms, eyes sparkling with the

conceit of your own corruption.

A narcissist who masturbates in mirrors and

dreams of murdering all those who will not

accept your love.

Laura

From out of the past she came ...

Doodling demons to demonstrate the darkness of her soul
and the two-dimensional depth of her talent.

A gargoyle gurgling about balls of light and how she likes
to come whilst listening to the Cocteau Twins.