Virginia and the Duckworth Boys

 

"Nothing has really happened until it has been described ..."

 

 

I.

 

I have to admit, until very recently my knowledge of Gerald Duckworth was extremely limited. Essentially, I knew he published some of D. H. Lawrence's early work, including Sons and Lovers (1913), and that Lawrence thought him a decent chap. 

 

But I didn't know that Duckworth also published books by Henry James and John Galsworthy. Nor did I know that his middle name - de l'Etang - was the surname of one of his mother's ancestors, Antoine de l'Etang, a page to Marie Antoinette; or that he died whilst on holiday in Milan, in 1937.

 

And I certainly didn't know that Gerald was accused by his much younger half-sister, Virginia, of molesting her as a child; a claim that Woolf first made in a speech at the Bloomsbury Memoir Club in 1920 and which has long been the subject of controversy within literary and feminist circles [1].

 

According to Woolf, Gerald physically picked her up one day, plonked her onto a table, put his hand under her skirt, and then proceeded to fondle her genitals. To Virginia - who was only six years old at the time - this was a shocking incident; one which she never forgot, even if she forgave Gerald and did not accuse him of any further violations (or indiscretions, as commentators who wish to trivialise this incident prefer to write).  

 

Woolf provides a graphic description of what happened in a posthumously published piece of autobiographical writing: 

 

"As I sat there he began to explore my body. I can remember the feel of his hand going under my clothes; going firmly and steadily lower and lower, I remember how I hoped that he would stop; how I stiffened and wriggled as his hand approached my private parts. But it did not stop. His hand explored my private parts too." [2]  

 

Of course, it may well be that Gerald regarded his younger sister more as an object of sexual curiosity, rather than sexual desire. And doubtless such things as this are common in family homes up and down the land. But, even so - perhaps due to the twelve-year age difference between the two parties - this incident makes for uncomfortable reading and it was certainly one that deeply affected Woolf.

 

Indeed, those far more knowledgeable about the impact of childhood sexual abuse than I argue that even a single incident such as this can have such powerful long-term consequences that it's impossible to fully understand Woolf's later life, as a woman and as an artist, without acknowledging what happened to her as a child at the hands of Gerald - and, indeed, his elder brother George, who was (allegedly) a far more serious sex pest ...

 

 

II. 

 

According to Woolf, she and her sister were repeatedly abused over a period of many years by their half-brother George Duckworth. This abuse began when she was aged thirteen; Vanessa sixteen; and George twenty-eight. 

 

Virginia would write of his violent passion and brutish behaviour and the implication was given that he had attempted to establish an incestuous relationship with her and Vanessa (although neither Woolf nor Bell ever accused him of rape, as such). 

 

In '22 Hyde Park', she discloses how, one night, as she lay undressed and stretched out on her bed trying to sleep, George came creeping into her room. When she sat up and cried out he instructed her not to be frightened - and not to turn on the lights. Then, according to Woolf, George flung himself on the bed beside her and took her in his arms [3].  

 

For George Duckworth's defenders, these allegations are not only unproven, but unfounded; some even describe them as far-fetched and suggest that Woolf concocted an imaginative drama out of little more than erotic horseplay, which, whilst not entirely innocent, was neither something to make a fuss about.

 

Ultimately, we have no way of knowing the truth of what happened: but I doubt very much that Woolf invented or fantasised the abuse. On the other hand, however, it's probably wise to retain a degree of skepticism concerning claims that are made without any supporting evidence (particularly claims made by imaginative artists who are often unreliable narrators of their own lives and prone to embroider actual events).   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Although many Woolf scholars today don't question whether the abuse happened, disagreement persists about the nature and extent of the abuse and what effect it may have had on the rest of her life. I think we can agree, however, that Woolf's speaking out on this subject was a courageous and highly unusal thing for a woman at that time to do.

      

[2] Quoted from Virginia Woolf, Moments of Being, ed. by Jeanne Schulkind, (Sussex University Press, 1976). 

      This collection of posthumously-published autobiographical essays was first discovered in the papers of her husband, Leonard Woolf, and used by Quentin Bell in his biography of his aunt Virginia, published in 1972. In 1976, the essays were edited for publication by Jeanne Schulkind; a revised and enlarged second edition was published by the Hogarth Press in 1985; the most recent edition, introduced and revised by Hermione Lee, was published by Pimlico in 2022.   

      The title was a phrase used by Woolf to describe those rare moments (not necessarily positive or beneficial) in which an individual directly experiences reality, in contrast to the states of non-being which separate us from reality or serve to protect us from its tragic (or traumatic) nature. Arguably, an incident that scars the individual for life - such as a sexual assault in childhood - might be construed as just such a moment. 

 

[3] This essay, '22 Hyde Park', can be found in Moments of Being, op cit.

 

 

Readers interested in learning more about this topic will find the following essay by Lucia Williams helpful: 'Virginia Woolf's History of Sexual Victimization: A Case Study in Light of Current Research', Psychology, Vol. 5, No. 10, (August 2014), pp. 1151-1164. Click here to read online.  

 

On the Daughters of God

Portrait of Tammi of Nazareth

the onion.com

 

"And I sayeth unto thee: Look upon mine eyes, which rest within mine head; 

not upon mine bosom, wherein no wisdom dwells."

 

 

I. Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace

 

A friend of mine, who happens to be a specialist in medieval religious art and literature, recently gave birth to her third daughter and joked: 'I just need one more and God's people can be restored!' I sort of smiled at this, but, at the time, had no idea what on earth she meant by this.

 

However, after thinking about it - and doing a bit of biblical research - I realised that she was referring to Psalm 85 - and the so-called Four Daughters of God who loved nothing better than meeting up and exchanging kisses [1].

 

Of course, these four daughters were allegorical; they personified the virtues of Truth, Justice, Mercy, and Peace and their uniting in Love signified the triumph of God and the fact that mankind was forgiven its sins and redeemed by the sacrifice of Christ. 

 

Attempts to pornify the motif - which was extremely popular in medieval Europe - by imagining scenes of incestuous lesbianism, are uncalled for, as the kisses were given in innocence [2]. At any rate, most people had become thoroughly bored with the idea by the end of the 17th-century, though some, like William Blake, remained fascinated by the Four Daughters. 

    

II. Tammi of Nazareth

  

In September 2010, The Onion published a piece under the headline 'New Evidence Suggests God Also Had Incredibly Busty Daughter' [3], according to which:

 

"In a discovery that biblical scholars say could alter our most fundamental understanding of Christianity, recently unearthed manuscripts suggest that in addition to His Son, Jesus Christ, God also had a daughter with absolutely humongous breasts." 

The article goes on:

"The documents, found in a cave near the Jordanian-Israeli border and estimated to have been composed circa A.D. 200, recount the life, teachings, and death of Jesus' well-endowed twin sister, Tammi of Nazareth."

And it continues in much the same comic-blasphemous (breast-obsessed) vein throughout. 

 

It's juvenile, certainly, but it is also amusing to read that whilst Tammi "promulgated similar ideas as her sibling, and appeared to possess the same miraculous powers", she found it difficult to preach the gospel as followers were only interested in gaining "a better vantage point from which to observe her 'heavenly radiance'" hidden beneath a thin linen vestment. 

 

 

III. Jane

 

Funny enough, Larry David anticipated this idea of a comely daughter born of God in a season 5 episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, first broadcast in October 2005 ... [4]

 

In a now classic scene, Larry's Christian father-in-law (played by Paul Dooley) has purchased a nail used in the movie The Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson, 2004) - not a film that Larry much cares for, wishes to watch, or discuss. And so he quickly changes the subject and takes the conversation in an irreverent (some might say sacrilegious) direction:

 

Larry David: 'You're nuts about this Jesus guy, aren't you?'

 

Cheryl's Father: 'Yeah. Well, I have a personal relationship with Christ.'

 

Larry David: 'Really? See, I could see worshipping Jesus if he were a girl, like if God had a daughter ... Jane. I'll worship a Jane. But, you know, to worship a guy ... like a little kinda, you know, it's a little gay, isn't it?'

 

Although his wife, Cheryl, attempts to shut him up at this point, Larry is determined to expand upon the idea:

 

Larry David: 'I would worship Jane, if he had a daughter Jane, I could have a relationship with a Jane.'

 

Cheryl's Father: [Increasingly annoyed and irritated] 'He didn't have a daughter!'

 

Larry David: 'It's a shame it wasn't a girl. That's all I have to say.'

 

Cheryl's Father: [Disgusted] 'Ugh!'

 

Larry David: 'Good looking woman ... Zaftig ... Good sense of humor ...'

 

Cheryl David: [Exasperated] 'Okay, that's fine.'

 

Larry David: 'If he had a daughter, everybody - everybody - would worship Jane. That's all I'm saying.'

It's an interesting point, as Jules would say. 

 

And I think Larry is on to something: we don't need a pale and sickly looking Jesus with his crown of thorns - or even a weeping Virgin - for our saviour; we need a voluptuous woman who knows how to laugh (and make laugh) - more Marilyn than Mary [5].          

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See Psalm 85:10 (KJV): "Mercy and Truth are met together; Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other." 

      This psalm is a community lament, probably written during the period of Israel's return from Babylonian exile. The people seek forgiveness from God for their unfaithfulness and restoration of their former status and power. The closing section expresses confidence that salvation will come.

 

[2] The Hebrew word for kiss in Psalm 85 doesn't refer to an erotic act per se, but, rather, to something exchanged by near relatives when greeting one another. In medieval Europe, where the visual motif of Justice and Peace kissing was first introduced, such an act was even more widespread than in the ancient Jewish world. However, because (male) artists have a penchant for nude (female) figures, renditions of Justice and Peace kissing were often (inappropriately) sexualised.

 

[3] 'New Evidence Suggests God Also Had Incredibly Busty Daughter', The Onion, (23 September, 2010): click here to read online. 

 

[4] Curb Your Enthusiasm, S5/E3, 'The Christ Nail' (2005), dir. Robert B. Weide, written by Larry David. Click here to watch the scene on YouTube.

 

[5] Thanks to the season 5 finale of Curb, we know that not only does Larry look forward to meeting Monroe in heaven, but that the latter is also a big fan of Seinfeld. See 'The End', S5/E10, dir. Larry Charles, written by Larry David, (2005). Marilyn is played in the episode by Susan Griffiths. 

 

Reflections on Gauguin's La Vague (1888)

Paul Gauguin: La Vague (1888)

Oil on canvas (60.2 x 72.6 cm)

 

"As they neared the shore each wave rose, heaped itself, broke and swept a thin veil of white water 

across the vermillion sand. The sea paused, and then drew out again, sighing like a sleeper 

whose breath comes and goes unconsciously." [1]

The Little Greek is right: Gauguin's painting La Vague is an astonishing work ...

Painted whilst living in Brittany, Gauguin was as captivated by the primeval character of the North Atlantic coastline as D. H. Lawrence was during his time in Cornwall, from where he wrote the following magnificent passage:

"It is quite true what you say: the shore is absolutely primeval: those heavy, black rocks, like solid darkness, and the heavy water like a sort of first twilight breaking against them, and not changing them. It is really like the first craggy breaking of dawn in the world, a sense of the primeval darkness just behind, before the Creation. That is a very great and comforting thing to feel [...] I love to see those terrifying rocks, like solid lumps of the original darkness, quite impregnable: and then the ponderous cold light of the sea foaming up: it is marvellous. It is not sunlight. Sunlight is really firelight. This cold light of the heavy sea is really the eternal light washing against the eternal darkness, a terrific abstraction, far beyond all life, which is merely of the sun, warm. And it does one’s soul good to escape from the ugly triviality of life into this clash of two infinites one upon the other, cold and eternal." [2]

 

Having found himself an interesting vantage point from which to work [3] - one which could only be accessed during low tide - Gauguin probably made a number of preliminary sketches, before beginning the actual canvas at his lodgings. 

 

Whilst Guaguin's abiding fascination with Japanese prints is clearly evident in La Vague, he was also inspired by a young artist called Emile Bernard, who was working nearby and buzzing with creative ideas. Through his discussions with the latter, it became clear to Gauguin that it was vital to find a new (post-impressionistic) form of expression; one that was more subjective, more primitivist, more visionary, and, above all, anti-naturalist. He and Bernard would call their new conception synthétism. 

 

Gauguin was now free to experiment and to dream. No longer under any obligation to simply copy what he saw, he could reimagine the landscape as he deemed necessary; in La Vague, for example, the third rock (in the upper-left corner) is an invention added purely for visual effect. 

 

And, most outrageously of all in the minds of those who demand realism, Gauguin painted the sandy beach an unearthly shade of martian red, affirming his increasingly idiosyncratic sense of colour. Further to this, the bright redness of the beach also relates to an optical phenomenon that Gauguin cleverly introduced into his work:  

 

"Detectable in the surging, foamy surf, is a prismatic phenomenon, in which the water appears to separate the reflected sunlight into its component chromatic wavelengths - pale violet, blue, green, and yellow - which, completed by the vermilion sand, yields a curving, rainbow-like effect along the upper edge and right-hand side of the painting." [4]

 

Finally, perhaps the thing I most admire about Gauguin's picture (as an object-oriented philosopher) is the addition of two tiny female figures, fleeing the incoming waves which threaten to overwhelm them and possibly carry them out to sea. This just intensifies the brutal elemental power of the painting; the ancient rocks and crashing waters care nothing about human bathers, or the warm softness of their flesh. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] A slightly modified couple of lines from the beginning of Virginia Woolf's 1931 novel The Waves. 

      I don't know if Woolf borrowed the title of her book from Gauguin - just as he took the title for his canvas from Hokusai’s famous woodcut The Great Wave of Kanagawa - but I do know that Roger Fry's introduction to Britain of works by Post-Impressionist painters, including Gauguin, had a significant impact on Woolf's own thinking and that The Waves might best be regarded as a work of literary abstractionism; a synthesis of poetic myth and external realism. 

      For an interesting essay on this, see Bernadette McCarthy; 'Denying the Dichotomy: Word Images in The Waves', in Cahiers victoriens et édouardiens, 64 (Université Paul-Valéry Montpellier, 2006): click here. 

      Readers might also be amused by a post entitled 'Virginia Woolf as Gauguin girl' (27 Dec 2013), published on Paula Maggio's blog - Blogging Woolf - which relays the tale of how Virginia and her sister, Vanessa Bell, attended a party thrown in conjunction with Roger Fry’s 1910 exhibition of Post-Impressionist painters at the Grafton Galleries, dressed as figures from Guaguin's Tahitian paintings: click here.

  

[2] These beautiful lines are in a letter written by Lawrence to J. D. Beresford, dated 1 Feb 1916. See The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. II, ed. George J. Zytaruk and James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 1981), pp. 519-520. 

 

[3] Commenting on the peculiar nature of Gauguin's vantage point, an anonymous critic writing for the British auction house Christie's notes: 

      "Gauguin often composed landscapes from elevated and other unusual vantage points, allowing him to dispense with a stabilizing horizon [...] Instead of gazing into the typically broad expanse of the landscape format, the viewer in La Vague experiences a vertiginous plunge into vertical depth, the psychological effect of which is like peering into the inner recesses of one's own emotional self." 

      Readers who are interested, can click here to read the full essay on the Christie's website. 

 

[4] Lot Essay on the Christie's website: click here.

 

 

This post is for Maria Thanassa (MLG).

On Georg Simmel's Sociology of Secrecy and Secret Societies

Georg Simmel (1858 - 1918)

 

 

I. 

 

One of the founders of German sociology at the beginning of the 20th-century, Georg Simmel mainly interests today for his concept of purposeful concealment - a concept via which he attempts to revalue the notion of secrecy.

 

According to Simmel, when conceived in a positive and profound sense, secrecy enables life to unfold on an imaginatively far more complex plane than it otherwise would and this makes secrecy one of the "greatest accomplishments of humanity" [1]. 

 

Simmel also argues that what most characteristically defines (and differentiates) human social structures is the degree of mendacity (and ignorance) operating within them. The concealment of truth, therefore, is perhaps more vital than its exposure; secrets and lies are what hold us together (this is true even for married couples who like to believe otherwise).   

 

Anticipating Byung-Chul Han, Simmel recognises that complete transparency between individuals - if such a thing were ever to be possible - would not, therefore, be particularly desirable; it would certainly not be without consequence, radically changing how people relate to one another and live collectively [2].

 

In an essay published in 1906, Simmel also offers some fascinating remarks on the attraction of the Geheimgesellschaft ...  

 

 

II.

 

 

We can define a society as secret when its activities, inner functioning, and membership are all shielded from public scrutiny. Secret societies may even attempt to conceal their very existence, for, as Simmel notes, invisibility is an effective protective strategy. 

 

If readers are wondering why individuals might feel the need to take such measures, it's worth noting that secret societies often emerge "as a correlate of despotism" [3] and one of their key functions is to offer protection against the State for dissidents and heretics of all kind. 

 

As well as teaching how to become-imperceptible, secret societies are also highly effective at instructing members on the art of silence, which is a good thing in my view (indeed, I think it would be an excellent idea if our schools taught children how to sit still, sit straight, and stay silent; i.e., taught self-discipline, rather than encourage self-expression) [4].

 

Having said all this, Simmel is aware that some secret societies that start out as countercultural, ironically end up reproducing the oppressive structures and institutions of the wider society that forced them into the shadows or underground in the first place.

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Georg Simmel, 'The Sociology of Secrecy and of Secret Societies', in the American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 11, No. 4 (Jan. 1906), pp. 441-498. The line quoted from is on p. 446. The essay is available on JSTOR: click here.

 

[2] See my three-part post on Byung-Chul Han's book The Transparency Society (2015): part one can be accessed by clicking here. 

[3] Georg Simmel, 'The Sociology of Secrecy and of Secret Societies' ... p. 472. 

 

[4] Three cheers for Katharine Birbalsingh, founder and head teacher of the Michaela Community School, Wembley. 

 

 

Essentially, this post might be seen as a kind of preview to a paper entitled 'In Defence of Isis Veiled and in Praise of Silence, Secrecy, and Shadows', that will be presented at Treadwell's bookshop - 33, Store Street, London, WC1 - on Thurs 7 September. Further details can be found on the Torpedo the Ark events page: click here. 

    

Readers are also reminded of a related post entitled 'In Memory of Anne Dufourmantelle: Risk Taker Extraordinaire and Defender of Secrets' (14 May 2023): click here. 

 

 

In Memory of Jamie Reid

 Jamie Reid (16 January 1947 – 9 August 2023) 

 

"Radical ideas will always get appropriated. The establishment will rob everything they can, 

because they lack the ability to be creative. That's why you always have to keep moving."

 

 

Although never entirely on board with his far-left politics - and rather uncomfortable with his mystical-hippie beliefs (and appearance) - the fact remains that Jamie Reid's artwork for the Sex Pistols (almost) means more to me than the records they were intended to promote. 

 

As Malcolm rightly said, his design for the single 'God Save the Queen' in 1977, based on a Cecil Beaton photograph, was National Gallery standard [1].

 

I think it's also probably fair to say that, along with Winston Smith, whose graphic designs in collaboration with Jello Biafra for the Dead Kennedys were equally essential, Reid defined the punk aesthetic. 

 

And so I was sorry to discover earlier today that the only sure method of leaving the 20th century sadly involves making a terminal exit ... RIP Jamie Reid.      

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This now (ironically) iconic portrait of Her Majesty - as well as several other of Reid's provocative punk designs - can be found on Torpedo the Ark: click here.    

 

 

D. H. Lawrence and the Cashless Society

gbnews.com

 

 

I. 

 

As is well-known, D. H. Lawrence regarded mankind's money-mania as a collective form of insanity: "Money is our madness, our vast collective madness." [1]

 

And his proposed solution to this madness (which he elsewhere describes as a perverted instinct which rots the brain and corrupts the soul) is to terminate the present financial system: "Kill money, put money out of existence." [2]

 

Society, he says, must establish itself upon a different (revolutionary) basis from the one we have now; for endlessly chasing a fistful of dollars results in vicious competition and turns us all into fiends [3].    

 

Whilst these tiny snippets, taken from Lawrence's 1929 poetry collection Pansies, might not constitute a comprehensive political critique of capital - might, in fact, simply be the musings of a romantic poet dreaming of a socialist utopia in which food, housing, and heating would be free for everyone [4] - they do at least make it clear that Lawrence hated having to earn, save, and spend money. 

 

 

II. 

 

The question that arises, however, is this: would Lawrence have welcomed a cashless society of the type presently evolving and being promoted by many politicians and bankers? 

 

I doubt it: for clearly the so-called cashless society only allows those who govern us and run the financial system to exercise still more power and control; to strangle us ever-tighter in their octopus arms [5]. It's not a return to the a world prior to notes and coins, where barter was the system of exchange, but a slide into a (dystopian) future where money has been digitalised (i.e., turned into a form of electronic information or data).    

 

I know all the arguments made in favour of a cashless society - it's quick and convenient, it's safe and secure, it prevents crime, lowers business costs, and even reduces the transmission of disease [6] - but I'm also aware of the dangers that threaten from a society founded upon total surveillance of the individual and the complete control over their money (their savings and financial transactions).   

 

It's not just a loss of privacy that concerns - but a loss of freedom. There's also the question of what happens to those who don't have (or might not want) bank accounts; will millions of people effectively become non-citizens and be despised and discriminated against as such? 

 

In sum, I don't want to belong to a cashless economy and certainly don't welcome the idea of a central bank digital currency, allowing that coldest of all cold monsters, the State, to monopolise the cashless payment system. Thus, whilst I'm sympathetic with Lawrence's call to kill money, I'm (paradoxically) supportive of those, such as Nigel Farage, who are working to ensure the survival of cash [7].   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'Money-madness', The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 421. 

[2] D. H. Lawrence, 'Kill money', The Poems, Vol. I, p. 422. 

[3] See the poem 'Wages' in the above volume, p. 452. 

[4] See the poems 'Money-madness' and 'Kill money' once more. In the latter, Lawrence writes: "We must have the courage of mutual trust. / We must have the modesty of simple living. / And the individual must have his house, food and fire all free like a bird." 

[5] See the poem 'Why?' in The Poems, Vol. I, pp. 391-92.  

[6] We should, I think, interrogate all of these alleged advantages of going cashless. Just to take the last of these claims, for example, whilst it's true that dirty old banknotes and grubby coins can carry disease-causing organisms (such as Salmonella, E. coli, and Covid-19), cash has been found to be less likely to transmit disease than commonly touched items such as card terminals and PIN pads. 

 

[7] Readers who also wish to protest the move towards a cashless society in the UK may like to support the GB News campaign - 'Don't Kill Cash' - which Farage is spearheading: click here. 

 

 

This post was inspired by a remark made by David Brock in a recent email, for which I am grateful.

 

 

Express Yourself: On How Individualism Becomes Socially Corrosive

Madonna performing in the video for 

her 1989 single 'Express Yourself' [1]

"Expressive individualism holds that each person has a unique core of feeling 

and intuition that should unfold or be expressed if individuality is to be realised." [2]

 

 

I. 

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that individualism as a moral and political philosophy is intimately connected to capitalism, which is why Marx spoke of it as a bourgeois form of abstraction, heaping scorn on liberal thinkers who conceived of men and women existing prior to, outside of, or free from social relations and insisted that these individuals had a fundamental right to express themselves and their desires.

 

Of course, one needn't be a Marxist to find such an idea problematic. Indeed, there are many on the right of the political spectrum who oppose such thinking, arguing that if you deny or dissolve the bonds that hold a people together by sanctioning individual rights and modes of conduct over and above their duty to (and kinship with) others, then you threaten social stability. 

 

Nietzsche, for example, brands liberal capitalism as political degeneracy; a form of anarcho-nihilism in disguise [3]. For Nietzsche, the sovereign individual is the supreme product of culture and society, like a beautiful (but quickly fading) flower. Without the latter providing nourishment and vital support, the former would never blossom.

 

Further, it's worth recalling that Nietzsche values the individual for their power of self-stylisation and self-mastery - i.e., not the fact they express an authentic, pre-supposed self, but, rather, that they create and shape out of chaos an identity via discipline and cruelty. This is what he designates as a great and rare art [4].    

 

II.

As one might suspect, individualism vs. collectivism is a common dichotomy in cross-cultural research. 

 

Comparative studies have found that the world's cultures vary in the degree to which they value personal freedom over conformity to social norms. Since, as we have indicated, individualism is strongly correlated with liberal capitalism, the cultures of more economically developed regions tend to be the most individualistic in the world. 

      

Despite this, there are still some on the radical left who insist - like Oscar Wilde - that only with the abolition of private property and the triumph of socialism, will we witness the emergence of a true, beautiful, and healthy individualism. 

      

In his famous essay, 'The Soul of Man Under Socialism', Wilde went on to equate individualism with art, arguing that the crucial value of such is that it disturbs the "monotony of type, slavery of custom, and tyranny of habit" and saves man from being reduced to the "level of a machine". 

 

Many other artists and philosophers have also argued in favour of individualism - indeed, as a youth, I was all for a punk form of anarchic individualism too. But that's a long time ago and now and I'm no longer quite so seduced by those who insist on their absolute right to lead an aberrant and unconventional lifestyle regardless of how this impacts on others.

 

Thus, for example, when presented with Joseph Brodsky's proposition that the "surest defense against Evil is extreme individualism" [5], I would now ask what protects us from the latter when it has itself become malevolent?    

 

And surely there is little doubt that we are now living in an age of what we might term toxic individualism; i.e., a form of individualism in which self-expression has given way to narcissistic (and solipsistic) self-obsession. 

 

I don't quite want to say that TikTok threatens the future of civil society, but it's undeniable that a culture's understanding of the notion of selfhood and individual rights has broad (ethical and political) implications and is at the heart of many of the issues being contested today. 

 

My concern is, if you raise a generation in which each individual is convinced of their own uniqueness and their absolute right to live how they like (in the name of authenticity and in accord with their feelings), then that's probably not going to end well (unless you think the atomisation of society a good thing). 

 

In sum: this is obviously a large and complex topic - one way beyond the scope of a post such as this. However, the all-pervasive spread of toxic individualism and the consequences of this (i.e., the dissolution of traditional institutions and structures) are increasingly obvious. As Marx predicted long ago, with the triumph of bourgeois modernity all that is solid melts into air ... [6]       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The music video was directed by David Fincher. The single was taken from the album Like a Prayer (Sire Records, 1989). 

      In an interview, Madonna explained what the ultimate message behind her song was; namely, that if you don't express yourself, you will remain "chained down by your inability to say what you feel or go after what you want". See Mick St. Michael, Madonna 'Talking': Madonna in Her Own Words, (Omnibus Press, 2004), p. 59.

      If interested in watching the video and listening to the song on YouTube, click here.   

 

[2] Robert Bellah, Habits of the Heart, (University of California Press, 1996), pp. 333-334.

 

[3] See the post entitled 'Nietzsche and Capitalism' (4 Oct 2013): click here. 

 

[4] Nietzsche, The Gay Science, §290. 

[5] Joseph Brodsky, speaking in his commencement address at Williams College (1984), quoted by Robert Inchausti in Thinking through Thomas Merton: Contemplation for Contemporary Times, (SUNY Press, 2014), p. 110.  

      To be fair to Brodsky, he came to this conclusion after living for thirty odd years in a regime in which individual rights were not exactly top of the agenda. In 1963, his poetry was denounced as pornographic and anti-Soviet. This resulted in continuous state harassment until he finally left Russia for the United States in 1972. Not only were his papers confiscated, but he was twice confined in a mental institution, and eventually charged with social parasitism. For this latter crime, Brodsky was sentenced to five years hard labour, although his sentence was commuted in 1965 after protests by prominent cultural figures, including Jean-Paul Sartre. Little wonder then that he became such a strong advocate of individualism. 

[6] This is a famous line from the first chapter of The Communist Manifesto (1848), trans. Samuel Moore (1888). 

 

 

Marxist Musings on Being a Fish Out of Water

Wood carved fish (Raphael Park)

Photo by SA/2023 

 

 

I suppose many people have felt like a fish out of water at some time or other; that is to say, in the wrong place, at the wrong time, surrounded by the wrong people [1].

 

But for some, this is far more than just an occasional feeling of discomfort due to their being in an unfamiliar environment or awkward social situation. For some people, indeed, it's essentially a state of being; they are permanently estranged (or alienated) from others and perhaps even themselves and their own lives.

 

Marx certainly knew a thing or two about individuals not being in their element, although, as far as I'm aware, he never used the English expression [2]. 

 

However, in a collection of manuscripts written in collaboration with Friedrich Engels between the autumn of 1845 and the spring of 1846, and first published as Die deutsche Ideologie in 1932, Marx does say this:

 

"The 'essence' of the freshwater fish is the water of a river. But the latter ceases to be the 'essence' of the fish and is no longer a suitable medium of existence as soon as the river is made to serve industry, as soon as it is polluted by dyes and other waste products and navigated by steamboats, or as soon as its water is diverted into canals where simple drainage can deprive the fish of its medium of existence." [3] 

 

In such circumstances, when existence no longer corresponds with 'essence', what's a poor fish to do? Quietly accept the fact that external conditions have irrevocably changed? See this in terms of an unalterable fate, or an unavoidable result of progress? 

Marx suggests otherwise: he suggests that the fish should - like the millions of proletarians in capitalist society - rise up and, by means of a revolution, bring their existence once more into harmony with their 'essence'.

 

At least, that's my understanding of Marx - which is admittedly limited and may even be mistaken - that via an active, practical alteration of material reality we can radically change the interior life of men (and fish) and end their self-estrangement. We can, in other words, not only make free but make happy and build a world in which everyone feels at home and is able to fit in (i.e., a communist society). 

 

Obviously, I have problems with this Marxist vision, as I do with every other form of utopianism. And as I looked at the above wood carving in my local park, I couldn't help but recall Michel Foucault's remark about Marxism as something out of place and unable to survive in the world today: 

 

"Marxism exists in nineteenth-century thought like a fish in water: that is, it is unable to breathe anywhere else." [4] 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This expression was first used by Chaucer in The Cantebury Tales (1387-1400) to describe a seaman's awkwardness when obliged to ride a horse and a monk's discomfort when in the world at large rather than safely cloistered in the monastery. 

 

[2] Although German speakers, like Marx, cerainly refer to people not being in their element - nicht in seinem Element sein - I'm not sure they use the idiomatic expression fish out of water. However, I may be wrong about this and I'm happy to be corrected if so. 

 

[3] See Karl Marx, The German Ideology, Part I: Feuerbach. Opposition of the Materialist and Idealist Outlook, B: The Illusion of the Epoch. This can be read online by clicking here.  

 

[4] Michel Foucault, The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sciences, (Tavistock Publications, 1970), p. 262.

 

 

In the Shower with Leslie Phillips

 

Fig. 1 Leslie Phillips and Shirley Eaton in Carry On Constable (1960)

 Fig. 2 Leslie Phillips and Andrea Allan in Spanish Fly (1976)

 

 

On-screen nudity can either be suggestive or explicit. 

 

But just as a porn film that lacks graphic content has no raison d'être and will fail to arouse its viewers, so too a comedy that moves beyond sexual innuendo and the briefest flash of bare flesh into the full-frontal realm will ultimately cease to amuse its audience. 

 

For it seems that in order to sustain laughter, even a risqué comedy requires bath towels and bed sheets. It must remain rooted, that is to say, in a sexually repressed culture of inhibition and embarrassment; a nudge-nudge, wink-wink culture of drawn curtains and lights out - not a pornified culture of indecent exposure.

 

This is illustrated by two scenes in films starring Leslie Phillips ...

 

The first is in one of my favourite films of the Carry On series - Carry On Constable (dir. Gerald Thomas, 1960). 

 

In his role as PC Tom Potter, Phillips is called to a house to investigate a suspected intruder. But what he discovers is a young woman (played by Shirley Eaton) taking a bath. Whilst viewers are treated to the sight of her naked back, the scene retains its charm, its innocence, and its good humour. 

 

In contrast, however, there's a rather gratuitous shower scene in a film described by Barry Norman [1] as the least funny British comedy ever made, Spanish Fly (dir. Bob Kellett, 1976).

 

Now in his fifties, but still playing the smooth-talking Lothario for which he was famous, Phillips is directing a photo-shoot in Menorca with a group of four models, including an Australian girl known as Bruce (played by Andrea Allan), whom he encounters in a hotel bathroom. 

 

Whilst viewers are afforded plenty of opportunity to ogle her (rather magnificent) breasts and watch as Phillips washes her back, the scene lacks precisely the charm, the innocence, and good humour of the one in Carry On Constable and makes for slightly uncomfortable viewing in an age of #MeToo. 

 

Sadly, as the sauciness of the late-1950s and early-1960s gave way to the soft-core seediness of the 1970s and Phillips et al were obliged to compete against much younger, raunchier actors - such as Robin Askwith, who starred in the Confessions movies (1974-77) - the triumph of latrinalia was complete [2].  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Barry Norman, for those who don't know, was a British film critic and journalist. He famously presented a film review series on the BBC from 1972 to 1998. 

      I tend to think his assessment of Spanish Fly is a bit harsh. It's not quite as dire as many like to believe and although the script is piss poor (much like Sir Percy's wine), it has a strong cast that not only stars Leslie Phillips and Terry-Thomas, but also features Frank Thornton, Sue Lloyd, and seventies sex bomb Nadiuska. 

      Plus, the film also features a rather catchy song performed by the Irish singer Geraldine, called 'Fly Me' (written by Bill Martin and Phil Coulter and released as single on EMI in July 1975). Infinitely more enjoyable than anything released by recently deceased (and hugely overrated) Sinéad O'Connor, readers are invited to click here.    

[2] Many critics at the time decried this triumph of soft-porn smut, largely blaming it on the sexual infantilism of the viewing public. It should be noted, however, that the British sex comedies of the 1970s were enormously successful at the box office and have since undergone significant critical reappraisal. 

      Ultimately, although I prefer Carry On Constable to Spanish Fly (or Confessions of a Window Cleaner), I would hope that my view isn't simply rooted in a mixture of moralism and snobbery. 

 

 

Bonus 1: Click here for the Carry On Constable trailer. 

 

Bonus 2: Click here for the Spanish Fly trailer (in HD). 

 

Bonus 3: Click here for the VHS trailer for Confessions of a Window Cleaner (dir. Val Guest, 1974).

On Lightness of Being (In Memory of Milan Kundera)

 

'Life which disappears once and for all, which does not return is without weight 

and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime means nothing at all.'

 

I. 

 

Milan Kundera, the Czech-French novelist who died earlier this month, aged 94, was one of those writers whom I tried (but failed) to read and to love - Umberto Eco would be another such author. 

 

And so it is that the only work of his to which I ever returned was the philosophical novel for which he is best remembered, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (1984) [1]. And it's this work about which I'd like to make some brief remarks ...

 

 

II.   

 

Set in the late 1960s and early '70s - i.e., during and just after the so-called Prague Spring period - it is the tale of a sex-obsessed surgeon, Tomáš, who eventually learns how to love and remain faithful to his wife, Tereza, an animal-loving photographer with hang-ups about her body. 

 

It is the story also of Tomáš's mistress and confidante, Sabina, an artist who has declared war on kitsch and puritanism and wishes to lead a life of extreme lightness [2].

 

Essentially, the novel challenges Nietzsche's thought of eternal recurrence; an idea which, were it true - or were we to take it seriously and act as if it were true - would lie upon our actions as the greatest weight. 

 

Kundera obliges his characters (and readers) to ask themselves how they would live were they to know for sure that they only have one life to live and that which occurs in life does so once and once only - would this lightness of being bring freedom and happiness, or become unbearable: for without weight (i.e. existential meaning), do not all our actions become trivial and worthless? [3]

 

 

III.

 

Einmal ist keinmal, as our German friends like to say - i.e., once is never enough; indeed, once is as good as never having happened at all. If a human life, for example, fails to forever return, then once it is over it is truly over and the universe can simply carry on in utter indifference.

 

Obviously, as a floraphile - that is to say, as one who loves flowers and locates their beauty precisely in the fact that they bloom and then fade with no sense of shame, or responsibility, or significance - I am not particularly troubled by such a thought, nor do I accept the logic. 

 

And whilst I don't think we can ever become soulless like the flowers - or that this would be desirable - that doesn't mean that men and women should forever live as beasts of burden, weighed down by moral seriousness.      

 

Similarly, as a lover of birds, I approve of young women like Sabina learning how to fly in defiance of the spirit of gravity - even if that means they must first hollow out their bones; it is better to live in freedom with nothing to eat, than un-free and over-stuffed, as someone once wrote [4]. 

 

However, like Nietzsche, I would also counsel taking things slowly, cautiously. 

 

For if, like Sabina, you want to learn how to fly, then you must first learn how to stand and to walk and to run and to climb. And to do that, you need to develop strong legs and that means remaining true to the earth and practicing a little weight training.     

     

 

Notes

 

[1] Written in 1982, in Czech, as Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí, it was first published in a French translation as L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être (Gallimard, 1984). That same year, it was also translated into English from Czech by Michael Henry Heim and published by Harper & Row in the US and Faber and Faber in the UK. 

 

[2] The novel also introduces us to Sabina's other lover, Franz - a kindly academic and idealist who might have been better advised to stick to his books and not get mixed up with women like Sabina - and a smiling, cancer-ridden dog belonging to Tomáš and Tereza who, for all their flaws, love this poor mutt and so pass what for Kundera is the true moral test of mankind; namely, whether one can or cannot display kindness for those creatures at one's mercy.

 

[3] Kundera is aware that this debate within philosophy between those who favour weight and those who champion lightness is as old as the Greek hills and can be traced back to the pre-Socratic thinker Parmenides (who thought the latter positive and the former negative).

 

[4] See the post entitled 'On Dance as a Method of Becoming-Bird' (10 Oct 2015): click here.  

With thanks to Thomas Bonneville for providing the insight into Kundera's animal-based ethics.