Nick Land and the Dark Enlightenment

Old Nick himself

I knew Nick Land, briefly and not very well, in the mid-1990s, whilst I was in the Philosophy Department at Warwick as a Ph. D. student. In fact, Land was assigned to monitor my progress and act as someone to whom I could turn for guidance other than my official supervisor, Keith Ansell-Pearson.

Unlike many others, however, I failed to fall under his evil spell. In fact, if I'm honest, I found him somewhat unsympathisch and don't recall anything he ever told me that particularly amused or struck a chord, apart from the fact that it was, in his view, preferable to sell burgers from the back of a van than to build a conventional academic career. 

Having said that, and to be fair to Land, his Thirst for Annihilation (1992) is a book to which I often return and that's not something you can say of many other (if any) theoretical studies of Bataille and for a long time I characterized my own work as a form of libidinal materialism.

But it's not this text from long ago that I wish to comment on here; rather, I'm interested in his more recent (neoreactionary) writings and his provocative notion of a Dark Enlightenment which seems to involve people waking up to the fact that democracy is incompatible with liberty, equality is a theological conceit, human biodiversity something to be affirmed and capitalism something to be accelerated.

Now, to me, this sounds simply like a form of post-Nietzschean anti-modernism; for others, including Jamie Bartlett, it's a sophisticated neo-fascism spread online by over-educated, often angry white men worried about a coming zombie apocalypse and looking for an emergency exit.

Bartlett describes Land as an eccentric philosopher, which, obviously, he is; but then all genuine thinkers are eccentric, are they not? To be a conventional individual who upholds orthodox opinion and subscribes to moral common sense is to be a bien pensant, but never a truly perverse lover of wisdom.   

Bartlett also complains that Land's thinking is difficult to pin down. But again, I might suggest that it's not usually a sign of lively philosophical intelligence when one's ideas have all the vitality of dead butterflies.

As to the charge that Land is a racist (the worst form of heresy to those who subscribe to and enforce a universal humanism), well, if he is, it's certainly not in the ordinary or banal sense. Indeed, Land is at pains to demonstrate how the latter rests on a grotesquely poor understanding of reality and utter incomprehension of the future that is unfolding (a future in which genomic manipulation will dissolve biological identity in an as yet inconceivably radical manner making the concern over miscegenation and skin-colour seem laughably old-fashioned).

So, without wishing to defend Land from his critics - something he is perfectly capable of doing for himself - I would nevertheless like to encourage readers of Torpedo the Ark to invest the time and accept the challenge of reading Land's work on Dark Enlightenment by clicking here.


Note: Jamie Bartlett is a journalist and the Director of the Centre for the Analysis of Social Media at the think tank Demos (i.e. part of the Cathedral). He regularly writes about online extremism and the perils of the dark web. His blog post for the Telegraph on Nick Land, Mencius Moldbug, and the Dark Enlightenment can be read by clicking here. 

     

ISIS Threaten Sylvania



Detail from ISIS Invade a Sylvanian Picnic (2014)

Part of the series ISIS Threaten Sylvania (2014/15), by Mimsy



ISIS Threaten Sylvania is a series of humourous (yet deadly serious) light-box images created by London-based artist Mimsy, featuring the loveable toy animals who make up the Sylvanian Families universe; rabbits, mice, hedgehogs and other woodland creatures all living in peace and harmony as they happily go about their daily lives. 

Until, that is, armed jihadis show-up and threaten to execute every individual of any species that doesn't submit to their extreme vision of the world.    

It's a piece of political satire, obviously, but the joke is more on us, in our cosy complacency, than it is the Islamists possessed by religious mania.

And the joke has only been intensified after the organizers of the Passion for Freedom exhibition at the Mall Galleries gave in to police pressure to remove the work on the grounds that its inflammatory content might offend Muslim sensibilities, incite religious hatred, and potentially result in violence.    

The police - those well-known guardians of public morality and aesthetic judgement - informed the organizers that if they went ahead with their plans to display the work (which, in their view, had little or no artistic merit), then they would have to pay the £36,000 cost of extra security for the six-day show.    

It's a lot of money; enough at any rate to serve the purpose of effectively blackmailing the organizers and gallery owners into an act of self-censorship. Mimsy, the daughter of a Syrian father whose Jewish family had experienced religious persecution, was discreetly asked to withdraw her work, thereby legitimating it, of course.  

Despite being acutely aware of the danger of speaking out against Islamofascism, Mimsy has bravely declared that she has no intention of pandering to such, or attempting to justify her darkly funny work. Clearly, as Jonathan Jones has noted, if we cannot laugh at IS then the terrorists and black clad puppets of intolerance have already won.

Thus the suppression of these images - as of so many other images and texts - is not only absurd and cowardly, but sinister: "To let fear of bigots and maniacs rule our art galleries is a betrayal of the civilisation we claim to uphold."    

Notes

Those  interested in knowing more about the artist Mimsy and seeing further images from ISIS Threaten Sylvania should click here.

Those interested in reading Jonathan Jones's Guardian review of ISIS Threaten Sylvania should click here.

The Case of Maryam Namazie

maryamnamazie.com

As a graduate of Warwick University, I feel obliged to say something about the case of Maryam Namazie - the Iranian-born activist and campaigner against religious violence and stupidity - who has been barred from speaking on campus by the student union on the grounds that she's a highly inflammatory figure likely to incite hatred.

This ludicrous and deeply shameful attempt to suppress the right of a woman who receives vile death threats on a regular basis to challenge Islamofascism and defend the values of secular society is justified on the grounds that Muslim students have the right not to feel insulted or intimidated.

Ms Namazie is right to be angry about this; to be labelled as an extremist for opposing those who would veil half the world's population and behead a large number of the other half if they could, is peculiarly offensive and, what is more, does a great disservice to those men and women who are living under Islamic regimes and have no opportunity to dissent or speak out.  

Clearly, the University needs to step in and ensure that a few hypersensitive and politically ultra-orthodox students (or useful idiots as Richard Dawkins describes them) do not bring a highly respected centre of learning into disrepute.

The only heartening thing is to see many academics, feminists, and intellectuals come to her defence and, hopefully, with their public support, Ms Namazie will get to address the Warwick Atheists, Secularists, and Humanists' Society in October as planned. 

Afternote (28-09-15): After the University powers-that-be stepped in, the student union was forced to back down. An unequivocal apology was offered to Ms Namazie and she will now address the WASH Society as planned. Further details can be found in the Warwick SU News (click here). 

  

European Ghost Dance

Ghost Dance of the Sioux (1891)

The Ghost Dance was a last, desperate attempt by Native Americans to resist the White Man and preserve their own way of life. Performance of the dance was thought to unite the living with the spirits of the dead and enlist the latter in the fight for survival against those who came from far away with their strange customs and alien gods.

Essentially, it was a type of circle dance in which the men moved in unison with a soft, yet heavy-footed shuffle around a drum; a traditional form used by many tribes for millennia. But the ghost dance had new and deadly serious ceremonial significance and quickly spread at the end of the 19th century throughout much of the Western United States, with different peoples synthesizing aspects of the ritual dance with their own tribal beliefs.  

Of course, as we know, the dance failed to work its magic and halt white expansion; mystery religion, it seems, is ineffective in the face of guns and railways. For all their sacred and heroic effort, the Indians were doomed and their day passed.

What intrigues me, however, is this: in the face of the threat posed to their traditional culture by the mass influx of foreign bodies, will the indigenous peoples of Europe soon be the ones enacting their own version of the ghost dance (and will it be any more effective)? 

On the Human Atmosphere

Redheylin: The Human Aura 
(after a diagram by Walter J. Kilner)

Some people are convinced that all living things possess what they call a vital aura composed of psychic energies that sensitive individuals who are attuned to such can not only see - as a spectrum of colours - but also interpret; each colour being associated with some inner state of being or emotion. 

It's an attractive idea as these ideas often are, but it's nonsense, of course; as all such pseudo-scientific ideas to do with the subtle body are mystical nonsense.            

What each individual does possess, however, floating about them in a miasmatic manner, is a microbial cloud composed of the millions of microscopic particles that human beings continually shed from their hair, skin, and clothes and each cloud has a unique signature that can be read via a genetic analysis of the bacteria. In other words, investigators can identify an individual by sampling their personal germ cloud - which is pretty amazing. 

And it's equally amusing to think that - contrary to what the beautiful souls believe - we don't leave a shimmering astral imprint behind us when we exit an environment, or even a pretty, silvery trail of slime in the manner of a slug; but merely a puff of bad air like a stale fart.          

Note: readers interested in the latest scientific research on how humans differ from one another at the level of microbial clouds should click here. 

On Homeopathy

Samuel Hahnemann (1755-1843): founder of homeopathy 

a practice based on the magical idea that like cures like 

(similia similibus curentur)

One of the more amusing definitions of homeopathy and the often crackpot conditions it is thought to magically cure, is given by Rod Liddle: Homeopathy, he writes, is the practice of treating a non-existent ailment with a non-existent remedy. 

This is a bit harsh inasmuch as some of the ailments are sometimes real enough, but it's spot on about homeopathy as a non-remedy (i.e., not even an honest sham cure, like snake oil); something - to again quote Liddle - of no fucking palliative use at all.

Prince Charles, Gandhi, and newly elected leader of the Labour Party, the sainted Jeremy Corbyn, may believe in the miraculous power of homeopathy and advocate its availability on the NHS - and they may have many supporters who share their faith in complementary medicines and natural alternatives to the drugs provided by the pharmaceutical industry on the back of years of scientific research and extensive clinical trials - but I would hope and trust that readers of this blog do not. 

I wouldn't want to argue that belief in homeopathy is a moral failing, as the political journalist Ian Dunt insists - stupidity isn't a sin and irrationalism doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, even if it does often lead you to make bad choices and say foolish things - but I agree that this is a serious issue and that the rebellion against Western reason, of which it's a symptom, needs to be met face on.          

Torpedo the ark means having done with judgement; but it certainly doesn't demand a sacrifice of intellect, or call for a leap into faith and superstition.   

Notes: 

Rod Liddle, Selfish, Whining Monkeys (Fourth Estate, 2015), pp. 196 and 199. 

Those interested in reading Ian Dunt's post arguing that belief in homeopathy is a moral test should click here.  

Federico Campagna: A Man of Faith and Folly

Federico Campagna identifies himself as a Sicilian philosopher based in London. Unfortunately, I'm not sure this is entirely true. He is Italian and he does work and live in London, but is he a philosopher or is he not merely a moral and political idealist who uses philosophy whenever it's convenient to do so simply to underpin his metaphysical and, indeed, quasi-mystical search for what he describes as a fundamental architecture of emancipation?

At any rate, his current work revolves around the question of contemporary nihilism, viewing the latter as something that we need to move beyond in order that we might reconstruct reality - and not merely reality as understood by science, but an enchanted or magical reality that is more originary and which supports the ontological primacy of Dasein or mankind's manifest self-understanding. 

Thus, Campagna's dreary, dated, and clichéd characterization of nihilism as a deep crisis of truth that paralyses all human action and imagination is one which I would decisively reject. If we must talk about a topic that has been so overly-discussed, then it seems to me the starting point has to be with Ray Brassier and not Ernesto de Martino, the anthropologist and historian of religions whom Campagna refers us to.     

For unlike Campagna, I don't think nihilism is something to be overcome and I certainly don't think we should attempt to do so in the name of values which, he says, reside in some kind of ethical core and stretch from the gates of Being into our everyday lives, constituting one of the mysteries of existence of which he is so fond. Rather, like Brassier, I think nihilism is a speculative opportunity, not an existential dilemma or disease; a chance to think (even if it turns out thinking has interests that do not coincide with human welfare or happiness). 

Ultimately, Campagna, by his own admission, is a man of faith. In an article published earlier this year, he explicitly tells us that faith is what we need today to accompany an ontological awakening. Faith in what? Faith in life and the intrinsic value of life, which cannot be objectively determined by science, only subjectively affirmed by the faithful individual. Only faith in life transforms Dionysian chaos into Apollonian harmony; noise into music. He writes:

"It is only the interplay of the forces of Being and faith that empower and ... will realize our new architecture of values ... And [result in] the establishment of ... an oasis of limit and freedom, where the chorus faithfully sings for its own glory and Apollo benignly looks on from beyond."  

To which we can only shout hallelujah and not know whether to laugh or cry ...


Notes: 

Federico Campagna was speaking at the 6/20 Club on Sunday the 20th of September, 2015. His paper was entitled On Magic and the Reconstruction of Reality After Nihilism. A version of this paper was given to the Art/Work Association earlier in the year and details of this presentation can be found by clicking here. 

The other paper by Campagna  to which I refer and from which I quote, is entitled After Nihilism, After Technic: Sketches for a New Philosophical Architecture. It was published in the online journal e-flux and can be read by clicking here. 

For Ray Brassier's brilliant discussion of nihilism in terms of enlightenment and extinction, see Nihil Unbound (Palgrave Macmillan, 2007).

Reflections on The Holy Virgin Mary (1996)

Chris Ofili: The Holy Virgin Mary (1996) 

When thinking about images of the Virgin Mary - particularly images of the so-called Black Madonna - one must invariably consider Chris Ofili's controversial work of 1996.
 
The large canvas (244 x 183 cm) depicts an African woman staring directly at the observer and wearing a blue robe on a pretty, shimmering yellow-orange background. The work employs mixed media, including oil paint, glitter, and animal excrement. The central figure is surrounded by images taken from pornographic magazines of female arses and genitalia. A varnished ball of dried elephant dung forms the figure's bared breast; the painting also stands on two lumps of elephant shit, decorated with coloured pins that spell out the words Virgin and Mary.      
 
Ofili's painting was included in Charles Saatchi's Sensation exhibition; first in London (1997), then Berlin (1998), before finally moving to New York (1999), where Mayor Giuliani described it as sick and disgusting and where, despite being displayed behind a protective screen, one protester managed to smear the work with white paint; a tellingly symbolic gesture, I think, but one which thankfully caused no lasting damage.

It's easy to see why some - perhaps most - people might initially find this work offensive and even blasphemous, combining in what the artist describes as a hip hop manner religious and artistic ideas of what constitutes the sacred with secular political concerns (to do with race, for example) and the basest of base materials. Is he having a laugh? Yes, he probably is; one is very aware of the wilful absurdity in his work.

But Ofili is also offering us a profoundly serious and sophisticated picture, in which the white-faced Queen of Heaven is transformed back into a black-skinned woman of the world; she whose immaculate heart beats beneath a warm breast of flesh and blood.    

The Holy Virgin Mary may not be his best work, but it is for me his most philosophically important; a reminder that everyday life is neither lacking in value nor authenticity and that even in a handful of elephant dung the divine is manifest.   

On the Black Virgin and the Question of Racial Fetishism

Nigra sum sed formosa 

The statues and paintings of Mary created in medieval Europe are all fascinating, but none more so than those in which the Mother of God has dark skin; the so-called Black Virgins (or Black Madonnas), of which there are several hundred located in various churches and shrines, venerated by their devotees and associated with miracles by pilgrims who come to receive a blessing.     

If I'm honest, however, what really interests is not the significance of the figure within Catholic theology, or the pagan roots of her worship, but the sexual allure of black femininity for white heterosexual males. Obviously, this is a controversial topic - perhaps more so now than ever.

In the past, the concern was with miscegenation and only decadent individuals openly flaunted their love for women of colour and were excited by the idea of transgression. Today, mixed race relationships are more commonplace and relatively accepted, but there is now a real (and legitimate) concern with racial fetishism; that is to say, with the manner in which white men view the non-white women whom they subject to their eroticized and imperial gaze.

For women of colour are not merely objectified sexually, but racially stereotyped. Their exotic otherness is not so much exaggerated and distorted as it is invented within the pornographic imagination, before being circulated and sustained within wider popular culture (via art and advertising, for example).

Angela Carter understands how this game works. In her short story, Black Venus, she describes the illicit affair between Baudelaire and his mistress Jeanne Duval (who was of mixed European and African origin), perfectly capturing the essence of the relationship and how, for the poet, this Creole woman symbolizes primitive sensuality and the promise of faraway lands.

Thus, when he's not asking her to take off her clothes and dance naked for Daddy except for the bangles and beads he loves so much - his eyes fixed upon the darkness of her skin - he's whispering like a madman into the ear of his pet:

"Baby, baby, let me take you back where you belong, back to your lovely, lazy island where the jewelled parrot rocks on the enamel tree and you can crunch sugar-cane between your strong, white teeth ... When we get there, among the lilting palm-trees, under the purple flowers, I'll love you to death. We'll go back and live together in a thatched house with a veranda over-grown with flowering vine and a little girl in a short white frock with a yellow satin bow in her kinky pigtail will wave a huge feather fan over us, stirring the languishing air as we sway in our hammock, this way and that way ... think how lovely it would be to live there." [10]

Jeanne recognises this pervy and racist fantasy for what it is: Go, where? Not there! Not the bloody parrot forest with its harsh blue sky which offers nothing to eat but bananas and yams and the occasional bit of grizzled goat to chew!

And many women of colour are rightly appalled by the way in which racism is smuggled into the bedroom disguised as something romantic and a form of positive discrimination. The young black feminist, Mysia Anderson, is quite right to say there's a history of oppression here that simply must be taken into account.

But, the problem is - for me, in my whiteness and heterosexual maleness - it still seduces. For ultimately, of course, it's a fetishistic fantasy designed to appeal to readers such as myself and not the black-thighed woman smelling of musk smeared on tobacco to whom it's spoken.

Thus, despite knowing better, I still find myself at the feet of a black goddess and still singing like Solomon about she whose beauty radiates from a skin darkened by the sun. 

Notes:

Charles Baudelaire's most famous work, Les Fleurs du Mal (1857), contains several poems believed to have been written about (or inspired by) Jeanne Duval, including Sed non Satiata, Les Bijoux, Le Serpent qui danse, Parfum Exotique, and Le Chat.

Angela Carter's Black Venus was first published by Chatto and Windus (1985), but I'm quoting from the Picador edition (1986).

Mysia Anderson is a student at Stanford University majoring in African and African American Studies. Her online article entitled 'Avoid racial fetishism on Valentine's Day' was published on Feb 11, 2015 on stanforddaily.com and can be read by clicking here. 

The photo, by Barron Claiborne, was found on Lamatamu.com the site for "everything exotic", edited by Biko Beauttah.

 

Thoughts on the Proposal for a New Lawrence Statue

Greek terracotta statue of Priapus, Hellenistic period 

(c. late 4th-3rd century B.C.)

There's already a life-size bronze statue of D. H. Lawrence, by Diana Thomson, standing in the grounds of Nottingham University; a barefoot figure with his trousers rolled up (don't ask me why) and rather awkwardly holding a blue flower. In addition, there's a bronze bust of Lawrence, also by Thomson, situated in the Nottingham Castle Museum and Art Gallery. 

However, increasingly proud of their local boy - or, rather, increasingly hopeful that such works attract visitors and that they might capitalize on his controversial reputation and continuing popularity - plans are being made for a new work to be erected in his hometown of Eastwood.

Lawrence scholars, members of the D. H. Lawrence Society, and staff at the Lawrence Heritage Centre, all met recently with representatives of the borough council to discuss ideas. Also present - and spearheading the campaign for a new statue - was super-glamorous local MP, Gloria De Piero, who, according to a press report, thinks it ridiculous that the Lawrence name isn't being exploited to the maximum; never mind what he contributed to English letters, just think what he can do for jobs and business!       

My own view on this matter is rather closer to that of Lawrence activist David Brock, who argues that if there's to be a new statue, then it needs to be a creatively challenging work that isn't there simply to attract tourists and amuse the locals. If it were up to me, I would go for a Classical style nude terracotta figure, sans fig-leaf, but with an erection of priapic proportions from which hung a sign saying: The phallus is the bridge to the future.  

This, I think, would be true to the Lawrence who wanted to shock what he described as people's castrated spirituality and remind us that the phallus is a great sacred symbol of potency and the active life which has been denied to us within Christian moral culture.