A Short Lesson on Lawrentian Zoology

And the baboon, almost a man, or almost a high beast, arrested himself and became obscene; 

a grey, hoary rind closed upon an activity of strong corruption. - D. H. Lawrence

One of the well-known things about D. H. Lawrence is that he was fascinated by non-human life and the wonders of the natural world. 

A wide variety of animals move freely throughout the pages of his books, although, sometimes, they have logs thrown at them, or are chased round the room with a hanky. Or - if they happen to be porcupines - they are shot and beaten to death with a stick. And it's important to remember this: for whilst Lawrence might respond with an extraordinary degree of sensitivity to the sheer otherness of animals, he didn't sentimentalize them and he certainly didn't love them all with equal affection.

In fact, there are some creatures which Lawrence seems to hate and to fear with an almost insane level of intensity. He might like fish, to whom so little matters, and delight in porpoises playing by the side of his boat; he might value mountain lions and admire the indomitable character of a baby tortoise, but Lawrence doesn't care for any of the following: vultures, hyenas, baboons, and beetles.

These animals are accused by Lawrence of arrested development; i.e. of preserving their own hard static forms about a centre of seething corruption. They are, he says, forms of shit-eating anti-life; asserting themselves static and foul, triumphant in inertia and will. And they fill him with unthinkable horror. 

Indeed, for Lawrence, even the snake in comparison is beautiful with vital reality; for although the snake is a creature of the underworld and the oozing marsh, it shares in the same life as mankind: "He struggles as we struggle, he enjoys the sun, he comes to the water to drink, he curls up ... to sleep". 

We can and must make peace with the serpent and let him take his place among us; it will, writes Lawrence, be a sign of bliss when we are reconciled in this fashion. Unfortunately, however, more and more men and women seem drawn in the direction of carrion and insects and baboons; desperate to remain ideally intact and feeding on putrescence. 

See: D. H. Lawrence, 'The Crown', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988). The line quoted in the text is on p. 297. Line quoted beneath the photo of a baboon is on p. 295.

Nietzsche and the Question of Corruption

Corruption, writes Nietzsche, is merely a nasty word for the autumn of a people. 

That is to say, corruption is a term which, whilst often loaded with negative moral connotations, simply describes those periods in which the fruits of a society - sovereign individuals - ripen and fall from the tree. 

It is these extremely rare types who carry the seeds of the future and become founders of new states and communities, as well as new ways of thinking and feeling. Often, such singular men and women care only for the moment and for themselves; and yet, for Nietzsche, they justify all the stupidity and cruelty of the past and redeem the suffering of the many. They are what nature has been aiming at all along.

Nietzsche provides us with four signs to look out for, should we wish to determine the degree of corruption within a social body: 

(i) Superstition: understood by Nietzsche to be a symptom of enlightenment and spiritual progress. He writes: "Whoever is superstitious is always, compared with the religious human being, much more of a person; and a superstitious society is one in which there are many individuals and much delight in individuality."

(ii)  Exhaustion: although a society in which corruption is ripe is often accused of being exhausted, Nietzsche points out that actually all the energy previously expended in war by the state, is simply now sublimated into countless private passions. Indeed, there is probably a greater than ever exercise of power; the individual squandering resources in a manner which would have previously been unimaginable: thus is it precisely in times of corruption that "great love and great hatred are born, and that the flame of knowledge flares up in the sky".

(iii) Refinement: it is also mistakenly believed that times of corruption are more humane (i.e. softer, kinder, perhaps more feminine); that cruelty declines drastically, or is sharply curtailed. But again, Nietzsche says this is not so: "All I concede is that cruelty now becomes more refined and that its older forms henceforth offend the new taste; but the art of wounding and torturing others with words and looks reaches its supreme development ... it is only now that malice and the delight in malice are born."

(iv) Tyranny: corruption allows for the emergence of tyrants; "they are the precursors ... of individuals". It is invariably in the age of a Caesar that the individual will also ripen and culture achieve its highest and most fruitful stage; not on account of the tyrant himself, but because he provides the necessary external conditions - the peace and stability - that is needed. Whilst he makes life safer and secure, they set about making it more beautiful and profound.

So you see, we need our decadents and quasi-feminine types; our corrupt egoists. But not in the way or for the reason that the followers of Ayn Rand imagine. We value them not as wealth creators, but as culture creators and the founders of discursivity; they are free spirits - not merely free marketeers!     

   

Note: All quotes from Nietzsche are from The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann, (Vintage Books, 1974), I. 23, pp. 96-8. 

Wenn Ich Kultur Höre ... The Rise and Fall of Hanns Johst

 Hanns Johst (1890 - 1978)

When I hear the word culture, I reach for my revolver!

This oft-quoted line - commonly, but mistakenly, attributed to Hermann Goering or one of the other Nazi leaders - continues to resonate with us today and to mutate into new and often amusing forms. 

But it has perhaps still not quite been understood that whilst the original speaker - a character called Friedrich Thiemann, in a play entitled Schlageter - is indeed expressing his preference for paramilitary violence over all intellectual or artistic pursuits, the author, Hanns Johst, had a rather more developed racial understanding of the culture question.

    

For Johst, like many other writers and thinkers at this time, there was traditional German culture on the one hand, which he loved and wished to defend; and then there was modern Jewish culture, which he despised and wished to combat, fearing that it would otherwise infect and corrupt the purity of the former. This is why he joined the nationalistic and anti-Semitic Kampfbund für deutsche Kultur (Militant League for German Culture) in 1928 and why, four years later, he became a committed member of the Nazi Party.

Schlageter, which tells the story of a proto-Nazi martyr, was in fact written solely to express his support for National Socialist ideology, including its arts policy which declared that only works which conformed with classical standards and expressed the Aryan ideal would be allowed; those which failed to do so were notoriously branded as degenerate. 

In 1935, Johst became the President of both the Writers' Union in Germany and of the Akademie für Dichtung. By 1944, now an officer in the Waffen-SS, he was named as one of the Third Reich's most important artists. 

After the war, Johst was interned by the Allies and eventually received a three-and-a-half year prison sentence. Unable to successfully re-establish his writing career following his release, he was reduced to placing poems written under a pseudonym in Die kluge Hausfrau - a magazine published by that great bastion of all things German, Edeka, a large supermarket chain.

 

When I hear the word kultur, I reach for my price gun ... 

Informal Economics: The Triumph of System D

People, cattle and vultures all enjoying the benefits 

of an informal economy

I recently attended an interesting talk given by Dr Marianna Koli, Senior Lecturer in Economics at NCH, on crime, development, and democratization in Latin America, using Mexico, Columbia, and Brazil as her case studies. Central to her paper was a concept which, apparently, has become increasingly popular amongst economists and sociologists, namely, that of informality.

Informality is a term that is used to refer to the unofficial, unregulated, and frequently illicit activity carried on by people either marginalized by the state, or self-excluded and self-employed from preference (often because they resent paying tax, or having to comply with restrictive laws and regulations).

We used to refer to this informal sector as the black market, or shadow economy, and many of those who objected to its existence might point to its flirtatious relationship with the criminal underground. But now, it seems, we are invited to view it in a rather more positive light; i.e. not as a sign of social division and corruption, but as a flourishing of entrepreneurial know-how and urban ingenuity involving skilled professionals and creative individuals and not just the poor and dispossessed desperate to earn a few dollars, or provide basic services and amenities for themselves and their families living in 'non-stable communities' (i.e. what we used to call slums or shanty towns).

Indeed, it is claimed by admirers and advocates that informal activity is not simply a feature of advanced capitalism, but the very engine of such, driving production and innovation forward. Libertarians - keen to do away with the State entirely - are particularly quick to argue that governments should give up their futile attempts to control or combat informal activity and celebrate, expand, and learn from it instead.

For such political optimists, ur-capitalism (or agorism) provides a working model for the future; we can all be free to earn less and do without public services and provisions (such as health care); we can all live hand-to-mouth like those happy-go-lucky Latin Americans, or other peoples who opt for a more traditional lifestyle free from government and state regulation, but not from poverty, exploitation, violence and insecurity.

Who needs civilized society with its boring formalities, material benefits, and universal rights when we can have culture - developed organically from within the conditions of actual lived existence - allowing every individual to shape their own future and stand on their own two feet atop the garbage heaps of the world ...?


Afterword

Dr Marianna Koli has kindly commented on this post below and made her own position clear. I would hope it's understood that the views expressed in this post are mine alone - as are the errors and distortions made. 

Obviously, the post is a piece of polemic written by someone lacking in expert knowledge or experience in this area. Nevertheless, I stand by the central argument that informal economics is simply another way of saying laissez faire capitalism and, as such, something likely to attract the attention of libertarians and those of an Ayn Rand persuasion (i.e. those I regard as political opponents).  

In Memory of James Garner

James Garner (1928 - 2014) 

as Jim Rockford in The Rockford Files

The Rockford Files is one of those '70s American TV shows that everyone who remembers it, remembers it fondly. Just as I'm sure the lead actor, James Garner, who, sadly, died yesterday, will also be remembered fondly by family, friends, and fans alike. 

The thing with Garner was that he was both very good-looking and a very good actor, capable of playing both comedic roles and more serious parts with the same grace and charm, whether on the small screen or the silver screen (he was one of the first Hollywood stars to move between the two). 

Among his many movie roles, that of Flt. Lt. Robert Hendley, known as the Scrounger, in The Great Escape (1963), is a personal favourite. But, it's primarily as the LA-based private investigator Jim Rockford that Garner most impressed himself upon my young imagination: I liked the way he dressed in sports jackets and open-necked shirts; I liked the equally casual manner in which he approached his work and handled the cops; I liked the fact he lived in a trailer on the beach; and I liked his lawyer and on/off girlfriend Beth Davenport (played by Gretchen Corbett).

Thanks to syndication, DVD, and YouTube, it's easy to still enjoy episodes and to delight in the show's fantastic theme tune (composed by Mike Post and Pete Carpenter), as well as Garner's great performance. The man had style - and that's the highest you can say of anyone. 

 

Geoff Dyer

Photo by Matt Stuart (2011)

geoffdyer.com

Someone - not quite a friend, but not, I think, someone motivated by any real enmity either - writes to tell me what is wrong with this blog and why it fails to find an audience of any size: It's too random, he says, too much made up of bits and pieces that lack any coherent theme or continuity.  

This, of course, is not untrue, but it somewhat misses the point; i.e. that I'm very deliberately subscribing to a fragmented method of writing which encompasses as wide a range of concerns and interests as possible, all of which are assembled in a single space, but without being coordinated or synthesized into any kind of unity or whole. Obviously, such a non-systematic (and anti-systematic) approach is indebted to several of the writers I love the most, including Nietzsche, Baudrillard, and Roland Barthes. 

Geoff Dyer understands: for he shares in this love of the fragmented and whimsical and has built a successful non-career by following wherever his imagination and his desire has taken him, producing a variety of original works, without any regard for a target audience, that speak of his admirable (and enviable) freedom as a writer. 

By learning how to loiter, as Dyer says, on the margins of everything, "unhindered by specialisms ... and the rigours of imposed method", one becomes not merely a man of letters, but a homotextual - i.e., one whose life is virtually synonymous with their writing.

I might not particularly care for all of his books, or share all of his passions or opinions; I might even find him something of a fraud. But, in Dyer, I recognise a degree of kinship and so can't help feeling a little friendly and fraternal towards him - whilst not entirely sure this would be reciprocated ...

Note: Geoff Dyer is the author of four novels, two collections of essays, and several genre-defying books. The line quoted is from his Introduction to Anglo-English Attitudes: Essays, Reviews, Misadventures 1984-99, (Abacus, 2004), p. 4. 

Post 333: Invocation of Choronzon

Club Choronzon 333, by deadguy333

www.deviantart.com

According to Pythagoras, three is the first genuine number - as well as the first natural number and first male number. It is also the noblest of all figures, as it uniquely equals the sum of all the numbers before it. 

Even if we might challenge its authenticity and its engendered high status, it nevertheless remains an important number within mathematics, philosophy, and many of the world's religions; think of the Christian Trinity, for example, composed of the consubstantial expressions Father, Son, and Holy Ghost (i.e. three distinct entities, but sharing one divine essence). 

Or, for that matter, think of what our friends in the neo-pagan community refer to as the Triple Goddess - i.e. three female figures portrayed as Maiden, Mother, and Crone symbolizing different stages in the female life cycle or phases of the moon, who are nevertheless aspects of a greater single deity. For like many other hypostatic idealists, including Christians and Platonists, neo-pagans share a profound belief in the fundamental unity of being. 

In other words, whilst the number three has a certain magic and mysticism to it (three's a charm, as they say), it's the number one and an instinctive hatred for plurality which ultimately determines the thinking and theology of the religiously-minded - including Jung and Robert Graves, who are responsible for much of what passes for goddess worship in the modern world.               

For those of us who loathe monotheism and metaphysical notions of synthesis, stability, and identity, however, the will to oneness is - to paraphrase Nietzsche - the one great folly, the one great lie, the one great intrinsic depravity which betrays a lust for revenge upon life; the latter understood as a demon of chaos and innumerable becomings and called by Crowley Choronzon, the Dweller in the Abyss, whose number is 333.

From Chimpan-A to Chimpan-Z

Still from The Simpsons episode 19, season 7

© 20th Century Fox Film Corp.

It's amazing to observe how, after forty-odd years, the Planet of the Apes franchise continues to capture the imagination of a global movie-going audience. People, it seems, just can't get enough of those crazy sci-fi simians and militant monkeys. 

The latest cinematic installment, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, dir. Matt Reeves and starring Andy Serkis as Caesar, opened in the US a few days ago, immediately topping the box office and taking $73 million in it's first weekend. The film also received extremely positive reviews; not just for the stunning special effects, but also as a piece of well-crafted, intelligent story-telling. British audiences will be able to decide for themselves how successful or otherwise this sequel to the series reboot, Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011), is when it finally opens here tomorrow (July 17th). 

Sadly, however, I won't be going.

And the reason I won't be going is because, for me, as for many others, it's simply become impossible to view any of the great ape films without remembering the classic Simpsons episode which featured Troy McClure appearing in a musical adaptation of the original 1968 movie, mockingly entitled Stop the Planet of the Apes - I Want to Get Off!

Flashbacks of apes break-dancing to a brilliantly rewritten version of Falco's 1985 classic track, 'Let Me Rock You Amadeus', still result in tears of joy - and tears of joy streaming down one's face don't allow you to watch a clichéd, over-earnest and super-serious action thriller, which ultimately attempts to make monkeys of its audience as well as its lead actors. 
   

Notes: 

The Simpsons episode to which I refer - 'A Fish Called Selma' - was directed by Mark Kirkland, written by Jack Barth (before being revised by the usual in-house team), and guest starred Phil Hartman as Troy McClure. It originally aired on 24 March, 1996. 

The song 'Dr. Zaius' - one of the funniest musical numbers ever included in the show - was primarily written by George Meyer. The now classic line "from chimpan-A to chimpan-Z" in the final song of the musical was written by David Cohen.  

Thanks to Joe22c for uploading this clip on Vimeo: http://vimeo.com/47069867   

That Queer Riviera Touch

Film poster by renowned Italian artist Arnaldo Putzu (1927 - 2012)

One of the films that made happy as a child was shown yesterday on Film4 - That Riviera Touch (1966), dir. Hugh Stewart, and starring Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise playing versions of themselves.

There is a plot, involving a jewel thief and a large sum of money won at a casino, but it's basically just the two English comics fooling around on the French Riviera and competing to win the affection of the beautiful Claudette, played by Canadian-born actress Suzanne Lloyd.

I have to confess, it didn't quite amuse as much as it did when first watched on TV in the 1970s, but it did still interest - particularly the ending, which is somewhat queer to say the least and openly hints towards the establishment of a ménage-à-trois of some kind. 

In other words, the two inseparable friends each get to get the girl; Claudette happily marries both men, thereby voluntarily committing an act of bigamy. In the final shot, Eric turns to the camera and says with a knowing smile: "We'll cross that hurdle when we get to it", seemingly referring to the question of who will first fuck the bride.

However, one couldn't help suspect - knowing the intimacy of the relationship between Eric and Ern - that they might be inclined not simply to share their new matrimonial duties in a cordial and civilized manner (one taking Mon-Weds, the other Thurs-Sat, leaving Sunday as a day of rest), but agree to pleasure Claudette simultaneously.  

Indeed, it's tempting to imagine that whilst all three are naked in the honeymoon suite, there might even be explicit sexual contact between the boys. This is not to suggest that all men are secretly tempted by the prospect of penetrating one another or aroused by the thought of hairy male legs, but it's amazing how often the presence of a woman - serving as an alibi of sorts - facilitates experimentation of a bi-curious character in such circumstances.       

And why not? For as Eric would say: They can't touch you for it. 

If You're Human and You Know It Clap Your Hands

According to some religious lunatic featured on a recent Dispatches report made for Channel 4, whilst the achievements of a good Muslim should be recognised, they should not receive a round of applause; for clapping, by diverting attention to the individual, robs God of the glory and praise which he alone deserves. It is thus a sound which pleases only the ears of Satan.

I have to admit, I've never thought of it like that before, but I've never much liked clapping either; both giving and receiving a show of appreciation in this manner always makes me a little ashamed. For whether one claps oneself like a trained seal hoping for a fish, or is the recipient of a doubtless generous and often warm hand, there's just something humiliating in such a socially sanctioned display of approval.

One wonders if people couldn't be encouraged to do something else: John Lennon once rather amusingly asked those in the expensive seats of a Royal Variety Performance at the Prince of Wales Theatre not to clap but simply rattle their jewellery instead. Unfortunately, this only provoked laughter (with which I also have problems) and, ironically, additional applause.

Like it or not, applause is simply too ancient and too universal a habit - too human, all too human, as Nietzsche would say - for either my opposition or that of the Taliban to really make much difference. As long as people have hands, they'll doubtless continue to scratch, fidget, and clap. Indeed, were they not taught to put their hands together in prayer, or given holy books to hold, merely in order to limit such activities ...?