D. H. Lawrence and the Grand Perverts

Drawing of D. H. Lawrence by David Levine (1968)

According to D. H. Lawrence, in a letter written to Aldous Huxley, behind all of those whom he identifies as grand perverts, lies "ineffable conceit" and boundless ego.

Figures including St. Francis, Michelangelo, Goethe, Kant, Rousseau, Byron, Baudelaire, Wilde and Marcel Proust, are all guilty of the same thing; namely, "attempting to intellectualise and so utterly falsify the phallic consciousness", says Lawrence.

By this, he seems to mean they get their sex in their heads and barter away the sheer intensity of lived experience for mere representation. In other words, they fall into idealism, into narcissism and into solipsism; "the utter incapacity for any development of contact with any other human being".

But, in as much as phallic consciousness is also "the basic consciousness, and the thing we mean, in the best sense, by common sense", I suppose he's also taking a dig at all those who dare to think differently from those who subscribe to the morality of custom and popular prejudice, or what Lawrence mistakes for an instinctive-intuitive form of folk wisdom. 

 
And this, when you think about it, is not only surprising, but bitterly disappointing. That Lawrence - of all people - should end up defending doxa (that form of truth and goodness which goes without saying and from which we should never deviate) and condemning a host of other writers, artists, and thinkers as perverts (a term used in an admittedly idiosyncratic manner, but still in an essentially negative and pejorative sense), is, if nothing else, an outrageous example of the pot calling the kettle - and every other kitchen utensil - black.   


See: D. H. Lawrence, Letter 4358, to Aldous Huxley, 27 March 1928, in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI, ed. James. T. Boulton and Margaret H. Boulton, with Gerald M. Lacy, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 342.  

Fish Out of Water (Notes on Evolution and Cruelty)

According to a report in the New Scientist, blenny fish - fed-up with the predatory behaviour of their aquatic neighbours - are abandoning life beneath the waves of the South Pacific Ocean and gradually relocating to dry land. It's 400 million years after others of their kind first made the move and kick-started an evolutionary process that eventually produced us. But still, better late than never and I wish 'em the best of British.

The case is interesting because scientists have never been entirely certain why fish first chose to exit the sea and crawl gasping onto terra firma. After studying several species of blenny, however, researchers at the University of New South Wales have concluded that it's most likely an attempt to avoid being eaten by bigger fish, such as flounders. This desire to escape is an understandably strong impetus.

Of course, it's not all sweetness and light up here on land and there are still dangers awaiting for the blennies as they shuffle around the rocks - such as bird attacks. But predation risk is significantly less, however, than it is underwater. In fact, once they pick up their piscine courage and make the full transition - developing stronger tail fins so as to be able to leap about more successfully - their chances of being eaten drop by about two-thirds (66%).

Further, moving onto land has additional benefits for blennies; holes in the rocks, for example, provide conveniently sheltered spaces for laying eggs. So it's really a move worth considering seriously if you're a small fish. In fact, one is surprised that it hasn't been tried more often and by more types of fish other than the estimated 30-odd families that have made the crossing between worlds. 

That said, Nietzsche reminds us in the Genealogy that it is never easy for any creature to make such a fundamental change. For fish, becoming land animals was as difficult, as painful, and as terrifying as it was for the animal man to become a creature capable of making promises; a creature restrained by a morality of custom and subject to an internalisation of cruelty; a creature made regular and predictable and weighed down by bad conscience; a creature, in short, made human, all too human.    

Like us, the blenny fish is the result of millions of years of evolution. But only man has shaped himself through thousands of years of self-torture; indeed, this is what we have had the longest practice doing and wherein our genius as a species lies.    


See:

Alice Klein, 'These fish are evolving right now to become land-dwellers', New Scientist (16 March 2017): click here to read.

Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morality, ed. Keith Ansell-Pearson, (Cambridge University Press, 1994), particularly the Second Essay. 

If It Be Not True To Me ... Reflections on D. H. Lawrence's Phallic Epistemology

Portrait of D. H. Lawrence by the brilliant American 

scratchboard illustrator Bri Hermanson

bhermanson.com 

One of Lawrence's major philosophical concerns was with the question of knowledge. If he didn't produce a fully developed epistemology as such, he nevertheless mused frequently on this topic and the closely related theory of consciousness.

Indeed, he even wrote a poem in which he professed his love of thinking and set out five conditions that constitute legitimate thought:

(i) the welling up of unknown life into consciousness

(ii) the validating of statements according to conscious criteria

(iii) the observation and interpretation of natural phenomena

(iv) the careful examination of direct experience

(v) the ontological receptiveness of Dasein, or, as Lawrence puts it, man in his wholeness, wholly attending.

What thought is not, says Lawrence, is a trick or an exercise that involves playing with already existent ideas. He hates this and regards it not only as a form of mental conceit, but mechanical in operation; something which offends him as a vitalist.

Preferably, for Lawrence, thinking should take place in the body and not the mind; for whilst we can easily go wrong in the latter, what the former tells us is always true. Thus Lawrence posits some kind of instinctive and pristine form of blood-knowledge, untainted by idealism with all its abstractions and logical absurdities.

This libidinal irrationalism (and anti-rationalism) underlies Lawrence's hostility towards modern science and ultimately renders his theory of knowledge deeply suspect and philosophically untenable; unless of course one is an ardent devotee of Nietzsche, who also wrote in blood and advanced similar ideas.

Critics and commentators sympathetic to Lawrence who argue that his reputation as an enemy of intellect is an unjust (if pervasive) cliché are, alas, fooling no one; certainly not those of us who are intimately familiar with his writing. Nor does it really work to suggest that if Lawrence's theory of knowledge fails to convince, then this reveals inadequacies in our own thinking.

The fact is, Lawrence - as a novelist, as a poet, and even as an essayist - is not concerned with objective truth; he's concerned, rather, with his own feelings and experiences of the world (i.e., of the world not as it is, but as it is for him). And so he gaily dismisses evidence for evolution or the expansion of the universe, for example, simply on the basis that it doesn't accord with his own instinctive-intuitive (i.e. fanciful) understanding of life's development and cosmology.

This is summed up in the first two lines of the little song that Lawrence gives us to sing in Fantasia; a four-line ditty which he obviously finds amusing in its chirpy insouciance, but which I find anything but: If it be not true to me / What care I how true it be ...?                  

Such art-speech hardly demonstrates a powerful and lifelong commitment to furthering knowledge and exploring inhuman reality. Rather, it reveals that Lawrence is not only sceptical but indifferent about the possibility of such. What's more, he's betraying a surprisingly solipsistic side to his nature; the universe may not be mind-dependent in Lawrence's Weltanschauung, but it's permanently correlated with his precious solar plexus (the great dynamic centre of what he calls primary consciousness and which houses the wisdom of the soul).

Either that, or it's dependent in some manner upon the phallic principle that he promotes in his later work, contrasting cerebral consciousness with phallic consciousness; the former a way of knowing the world scientically in terms of apartness and the latter a way of knowing it mytho-poetically in terms of togetherness.

And this, rather strangely, is where Lawrence concludes his epistemology; with one hand pressed firmly on his abdomen and the other gripped tightly round his cock so as to know the categorical difference between a rubber-ball and a pomegranate ...                

Notes:

D. H. Lawrence, 'Thought', in The Poems, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013).
 
D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 2004).

Readers interested in Lawrence's haemo-epistemology might also like to see the related posts Haemostasis (18 Dec 2012) and On Haematolagnia, Feelings and Freethinkers (7 Jan 2016).

 

On the Struggle Between Art and Knowledge in Nietzsche's Early Philosophy

Portrait of Nietzsche as a Young Professor
 University of Basel, 1872

What Nietzsche terms in his early writings the knowledge drive, is something he favours subjecting to strict control. For whilst it powerfully propels modern science, it does so in a promiscuous and indiscriminate manner that is incapable of determining value. To give it free reign is, at the very least, a sign of vulgarity.

The role of the philosopher, therefore, is to act as a kind of guardian and ensure that science serves life and furthers the aim of culture; left unchecked, the will to truth will ultimately result in nihilism. But this subordination of the knowledge drive isn't accomplished by means of metaphysics, or the establishment of a new faith. It requires, rather, the granting to art new powers and responsibilities. 

Readers in the analytic tradition of philosophy who are unfamiliar with German Romanticism, might be surprised at this. But, for the youthful Nietzsche, writing as an ardent devotee of Richard Wagner, philosophy - whilst it might rely upon similar methods to science - is, in its desire to invent beyond the limits of experience, a form of art and a continuation of the mythical drive. It is thus essentially pictorial and not mathematical in its expression.

What's more, according to Nietzsche, the reason why philosophy retains its value - and, indeed, a higher value than science - is because it continues to concern itself with notions of beauty and human greatness. Of course, this makes philosophy a refined form of anthropocentrism; one that transforms all nature into man's own image and posits all being as a permanent correlate of thinking, thereby demonstrating its radical incompatibility with scientific realism.     

Leaving us in no doubt about what this means, Nietzsche writes: "Man is acquainted with the world to the extent that he is acquainted with himself ..." A little later, he adds: "We are acquainted with but one reality - the reality of thoughts". And, as if to show how Kantian he remained in his epistemology, he concludes: "The world has its reality only in man: it is tossed back and forth like a ball in the heads of men." 

Nietzsche doesn't at this point flatly deny the existence of the thing-in-itself or dispute the possibility of facts, he simply argues that because objects are mind-dependent, we can say nothing about them outside of this relationship. In other words, for Nietzsche - as for other sceptics - we can only know reality as it appears to us. Consequently, Nietzsche privileges art over science, as art, of course, is all about appearances and attempting to form representations of reality (i.e. pictures of the world that are ever more complete).  

Unlike Kant, however, Nietzsche feels sensory knowledge is more than mere illusion; that it's adequate to the truth of the world and that the mind mirrors what is, because the mind of man has itself evolved out of matter and not out of thin air. The mind might structure and colour things, but it doesn't do so in an entirely arbitrary manner; even if its reflections are distorted, they are not entirely false or simply the product of dreamy idealism.

In other words, objects may conform to mind - but mind is itself an object. Thus, breaking out of the correlationist circle and directly accessing what Meillassoux terms the ancestral realm that exists prior to humanity (or, indeed, any forms of sentient being whatsoever), is not a major concern for Nietzsche. Indeed, even in his later, supposedly positivist mid-period, Nietzsche is still primarily concerned with what is true for us (mankind) and his model of science remains distinctly gay and tied to his understanding of art.

Ultimately, what does an arch-vitalist care about arche-fossils ...?    

See: Nietzsche, 'The Philosopher: Reflections on the Struggle Between Art and Knowledge', in Philosophy and Truth: Selections from Nietzsche's Notebooks of the Early 1870's, ed. and trans. Daniel Breazeale (Humanities Press International, 1990). The lines quoted are from sections 80, 94 and 106.

On Black Mould and the Tragic Case of Dana Anhalt

Photos: Caters News

Mould is a fungus that grows in the form of multicellular filaments called hyphae. There are thousands of diverse species, but they all require moisture for growth and they all derive their energy heterotrophically from the organic matter on which they live. Typically, mould secretes enzymes that transform complex biopolymers such as starch, cellulose and lignin into simpler substances which can be absorbed by the hyphae. Mould thus has a significant role in decomposition, enabling nutrients to be recycled throughout ecosystems - which is a good thing.

Mould also plays an important part in the production of various foods, antibiotics and other medicinal drugs - and again, this is a good thing. Indeed, one might view mould positively from the perspective of Ben Woodward's slime dynamics and understand it to be a darkly vital substance. Unfortunately, however, mould is also a major source of food waste and of illness and many strategies for food preservation - such as salting, pickling, and freeze-drying - are essentially attempts to prevent or retard mould growth.

Although moulds grow all around us and their spores are a common component of dust, their presence is visible to the naked eye only when they form large colonies consisting of an interconnected network of hyphae called a mycelium. In artificial environments, such as homes and offices, humidity and temperature are often stable enough to foster the rapid and extensive growth of mould colonies and this can lead to a variety of health issues, including allergic reactions and respiratory problems.

Indeed, some moulds, including the notorious black mould or Stachybotrys chartarum, produce mycotoxins, prolonged exposure to which can have extremely serious - potentially fatal - consequences. As a general rule, you really don't want to ingest or inhale toxic compounds produced by black mould, or facilitate the growth of pathogenic moulds within the body.   

Which brings us to the terrible and tragic case of Dana Anhalt which has recently received extensive media attention; a 37-year old writer and psychology student from New York, Ms Anhalt has been bedridden for years suffering from multiple health problems, due (it was eventually discovered) to the presence of toxic black mould in her household (and not, as was once believed, chronic Lyme disease).

Having spent most of her life being slowly poisoned and crippled with excruciating pain, Dana has now been instructed by doctors to immediately abandon her home and all of her possessions and move into a new, sterile environment - a bit like the Bubble Boy, Donald Sanger (Seinfeld 4-07).

But this, of course, requires money ... And so I invite readers of this blog interested in knowing more about Dana's case and possibly donating to her family's attempt to raise funds in order to help pay for her new life and the expensive medical care still required, to click here. Alternatively, one can go to Dana's own fundraising project: Art is Life.   

Hopefully, this courageous woman will one day discover the greater health which Zarathustra speaks of and enjoy the intoxication of convalesence. In the meantime, she might care to remember that it is only intense pain and sickness, unfolding within us over an extended period, that serves as the ultimate emancipator of the spirit and compels us to descend into our depths; not necessarily improving us as human beings, but making us more profound as thinkers.  

On Lewis Carroll and His Love for Alice Liddell and Other Little Girls

Six-year old Alice Liddell dressed as a beggar-child 

in a photograph by Lewis Carroll (1858)

As everyone knows, Lewis Carroll was extremely fond of children (except boys) and very much liked to keep their company. And to photograph them. He seems to have found their beauty unearthly, though not inhuman in the manner of the nymphet as described by Nabokov.

Adopting the Roman symbol of good fortune, Carroll would call a white stone day one on which he met by chance a memorable girl-child; on a train journey, for example, or at an exhibition, or perhaps at the seaside. He always carried with him a little bag full of puzzles, tricks and small gifts with which to entertain any little girls he might encounter on such a day. And he carried too a supply of safety pins for pinning up their skirts, should they wish to paddle in the surf.

Many lovely little creatures skipped and danced their way into Carroll's life and his affections. But none quite left their mark on him as did Alice Liddell, who, again as everyone knows, provided the inspiration (or at the very least the name) for Carroll's most famous literary creation.

There has been much speculation - not all of it pleasant or supported with evidence - about the precise nature of Carroll's relationship with Alice (as, indeed, with her older sister, Lorina). I doubt very much, however, that he wanted to sexually abuse her and would refrain from (retrospectively) describing him as a predatory paedophile; it's important to remember that Carroll lived in a time very different from our own.   

Having said that, he was clearly infatuated with the girl, whom he adored in that peculiar Victorian manner - sublimating illicit desire into ideal moral sentiment - and although there's no record of actual impropriety, there were enough elements of perviness to concern her mother who, eventually, took steps to discourage Carroll's relationship with her daughters and burned all of his early letters to Alice (letters that often closed with 10,000,000 kisses).

Ultimately, if obliged to take a position on this affair, I tend to agree with the American writer and critic, Katie Roiphe, whose 2001 work, Still She Haunts Me, is a fictional reimagining of the relationship between Carroll and Alice which suggests they were essentially friends with benefits - but not the kind of benefits that we've come to expect.

I agree also with Roiphe, writing in an essay, that, whilst Carroll was no drooling child molester, neither was he the shy, stuttering, essentially sexless bachelor that some of his defenders would have us believe. It is, she writes, simply absurd to claim that Carroll was drawn to little girls on a purely spiritual plane; his erotico-aesthetic appreciation of their physical charms was too conspicuous.

To his credit, however, he exercised great discipline and, rather than indulge his carnal urges, produced amazing works of imaginative nonsense instead. There is, says Roiphe, something noble in a practice of self-restraint "so forceful that it spews out stuttering tortoises and talking chess pieces ..."

She concludes:

"There is something touching about a man who fights the hardest fight in the world: his own desire. You can feel the loneliness on the page. You can the feel the longing in the photographs. You can witness the self-contempt in his diaries. ... He had impure thoughts, yes. But what matters, in the end, is what he did with them."

See: Katie Roiphe, 'Just Good Friends', article in The Guardian (29 Oct 2001): click here to read.

Nietzsche in Wonderland (On the Importance of Making Oneself Small)

In order to reach the lovely garden lying on the other side of a little locked door through which she was far too big to pass, Alice had to take a chance and drink the magical potion contained in a glass bottle labelled so as to encourage its consumption.

Finding the strange-flavoured liquid very much to her taste, she quickly finished it off and discovered to her delight that it had the desired effect of shrinking her, until she was no more than ten inches tall and thus just the right size to gain access to the lovely garden through the little locked door.  

Why does this matter?

Well, it matters because I think it crucial that all of us dare to live dangerously and take risks like Alice. This means not only tumbling down rabbit holes and drinking hallucinogenic (potentially poisonous) cocktails, but remaining as close to the flowers, the grass and the world of insects as is a girl who is not so very much bigger than they.

In other words, it means overcoming the arrogant disdain or numb indifference that grown-ups often feel for the tiny things that excite childish wonder. For as Nietzsche wrote: "They who wish to partake of all good things must know how to be small at times."  

- Human, All Too Human, II. 2. 51

This post is dedicated to the memory of Scott Carey.

On Fast Food and Film Theory

Everyone knows what an Egg McMuffin is: a delicious combination of egg, bacon and melted cheese inside a toasted English muffin, it's Herb Peterson's great contribution to culinary culture.

But not everyone knows what a MacGuffin is ...    

A MacGuffin is a plot device, commonly used in films (not least of all by Hitchcock, who popularised the term), that often takes the form of a desired object of apparent value and significance to those who know its secret, but mysterious and meaningless to those who don't. This object can pretty much be anything; a person, a place, an event, or a Maltese falcon and it doesn't matter why it matters - just so long as it sets up a story and then drives the action along.    

In other words, the nature of the MacGuffin is immaterial and completely contingent. Whereas the nature of the Egg McMuffin is - in its key ingredients at least - essentially fixed and non-exchangeable; it can't be an Egg McMuffin without the griddle fried egg and toasted English muffin.

Yes, the medallion of back bacon can be replaced with a sausage patty - and I'm also prepared to regard the slice of processed cheese as optional - but, if you remove the egg and serve what's left inside between two slices of toast (or even a crumpet posing as a muffin), then, as far as I'm concerned, you've not only ruined breakfast, but fundamentally misunderstood Herb Peterson's fast food take on Eggs Benedict.         

Forniphilia: In Praise of Becoming-Object (A Post for International Women's Day 2017)

Alva Bernadine: "The Philosopher Illumined by Candlelight" 

from the photographic project Forniphilia (Human Furniture)
www.bernadinism.com 

The above image, by British photographer Alva Bernadine, resonates powerfully with any reader of Jean Baudrillard. For in this picture, it is the woman-as-object who, crucially, sheds light on the philosopher or thinking male subject and not the other way around. Indeed, despite the latter's obvious love of books, the woman-as-object remains beyond his learning having escaped conceptual understanding and assumed a position from which she might take ironic revenge upon those who would have her give up her secrets.

In other words, it's no longer the rational subject in this photo - or even the photographer - who has a privileged vantage point from which to understand and master the world; rather, it's the woman-as-object, that strangest of strange attractors outside of all traditional aesthetics or games of gender and representation, with whom a kind of enigmatic power lies.

By lying naked on a bed with her legs in the air, whilst gripping her ankles and holding a candle in her vagina, the woman-as-object transforms herself not only into a decorative piece of furniture with obvious utility, but also a work of fetishistic art that stands out from the obscenity of commodification (i.e. a thing that exceeds both use value and exchange value).

Liberal feminists will doubtless assert that, via her sexual objectification, she's been "degraded" as a human being. For such women have always believed in the splendour of the subject contra the shameful poverty of the object; always subscribed to the reassuring fiction of a free-willing agent with an economy and a history and a smiling white face.

Well, ok, let's provisionally accept this claim. But then let's suggest the possibility that, in sacrificing her human and all-too-personal aspect, she gains something new and unfamiliar; not sexual freedom or ideal independence, but a seductive allure that is both monstrous and magical. 

In her silence and solitude, no longer allowing herself to be watched or judged, neither desiring nor being desired, woman-as-object - with or without a candle in her twat - becomes supremely indifferent and, if you like, the most radical form of femme fatale. For as Baudrillard says, the fatal is that which lies at the heart of this passionate indifference to the philosopher's desire for knowledge and power.   
          
Ultimately, it's not up to me to tell women what to do - least of all on International Women's Day. But just as the sphinx once posed the question of man, I think there's much to be gained by a queer-feminist thinking of the object ... 

On the Practical Idealism and Pan-Europeanism of Richard von Coudenhove-Kalergi

Count Richard Nikolaus Coudenhove-Kalergi 

(1894-1972)

One of the reasons that I dislike crackpot conspiracy theories in which nothing is as it seems, nothing happens by accident, everything is connected and invariably involves either the Jews or extraterrestrials, is that they serve to distract from and disguise what is really going on in the world.

What's more - and worse - they discredit the very notion of orchestrated acts, planned and carried out in secret, by elite groups, with sinister or subversive aims. One is almost tempted to say that all the popular conspiracy theories are themselves part of a wider conspiracy and that people like David Icke are essentially useful idiots, rewarded with fame and fortune for the work they do.     

So it is that people know all about Icke himself, for example, and his shape-shifting reptilians, but very few have ever heard of Count Richard Nikolaus von Coudenhove-Kalergi and his vision of a future Europe composed of a racially-mixed population ruled over by a politico-spiritual elite.

Coudenhove-Kalergi was one of the key early advocates of European integration and served as the founding president of the Pan-European Union for almost fifty years; a body that served as a prototype and ideological foundation for the EU as we know it today.     

Aristocratic by birth and temperament, Coudenhove-Kalergi nevertheless favoured social democracy over feudalism. His ambition, however, shaped by readings of Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Spengler and detailed in his own extensive writings from the 1920s onwards, was to oversee the creation an ultra-conservative, post-democratic Europe, in which the nation state was dissolved, but the continent united by a common cultural ideal.

Not surprisingly, his Pan-Europa project was despised by Hitler, who characterized Coudenhove-Kalergi as a rootless, cosmopolitan half-breed, supported by Jewish finance and under the influence of Freemasonry. And, indeed, Coudenhove-Kalergi continues to serve as a hate figure today for those on the far-right opposed to globalism and who understand the European migrant crisis as an attempt to destroy the racial foundations of Europe and eventually replace the native peoples with a new population made up of immigrants from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East.

Who understand the migrant crisis, in other words, as a crucial stage of the Kalergi Plan, as set out in Praktischer Idealismus (1925) and which predicts:

"Today's races and classes will gradually disappear owing to the vanishing of space, time, and prejudice. The Eurasian-Negroid race of the future, similar in its appearance to the Ancient Egyptians, will replace the diversity of peoples with a diversity of individuals."

Obviously, depending on one's politics, this can be viewed as either a utopian dream or a dystopian nightmare. But it's maybe something worth discussing seriously - and not quickly dismissed as just another mad conspiracy theory put forward by racist neo-Nazis et al ...

Animal Farm: A Business Tale Featuring Mike Ashley as Napoleon and Joseph Corré as Squealer

The public looked from Mike to Joe, and from Joe to Mike, and from Mike to Joe again; 
but already it was impossible to say which was which ...

Billionaire sportswear tycoon Mike Ashley's £30 million pre-pack purchase of upmarket lingerie brand Agent Provocateur has - all too predictably - brought an outraged response from Joseph Corré, one of the founders of the global retail outlet.

Describing it as a bad day for British business, Mr Corré slammed the deal as a scandal, a catastrophe and a phenomenal stitch-up, before asking: "What's next, Agent Provocateur tracksuits?"

Well, better that, surely, than Sports Direct knickers or peep-hole trainers! But, fun as it is to imagine these new lines, it's not what I want to discuss here. Rather, the thing that intrigues is why Corré thinks he's entitled to pontificate on Ashley's attempt to save the business from going into administration.

If it's such a matter of concern, then why didn't he find the capital to buy it back himself? More to the point, why did he sell his shares in the company to private equity group 3i - whom he now describes as "negligent and incompetent" - in the first place?

Obviously, none of this is any of my business. But it's none of Corré's either, having sold out and walked away. It's solely Mr Ashley's business where he chooses to invest his money. And what irritates about Joe Corré is the fact he assumes an air of moral superiority when he speaks; as if his hands were clean and he, unlike Ashley, has what might laughably be thought of as punk integrity.

Ultimately, if one were to see these two rich, middle-aged, rather portly gentleman sitting round a dinner table together discussing business, one would not be surprised; what's more, it would be very difficult to tell them apart. For whilst they might dress differently - Ashley in his NUFC shirt, Corré in his Jack Sheppard trousers - they both walk on two legs ...                 


See: George Orwell, Animal Farm, (London, 1945).

Welsh Rabbit (Reflections on St. David's Day)

Stained glass depiction of Saint David (c. 500 - 589)

by William Burges, at Castell Coch, Cardiff

In the Bible, the name David is reserved for the great King of Israel and I seem to recall that the Hebrew meaning is the beloved - and not, as some people mistakenly believe, the slayer of giants. 

The young D. H. Lawrence was often reminded by his teachers that his first name had its origins in scripture and that he should be proud to answer to it. But, for some reason, he always disliked it and preferred to be known as Bert by family and friends; just as, in later life - still maintaining his antipathy to David - he was content to be known simply by his surname.           

I reflect on this because - as the BBC seem determined everyone know and acknowledge - today is St. David's Day ...

Now, whilst I'm very pleased to wish my Welsh readers well - Dydd Gŵyl Dewi hapus! - I'm not sure what it is, as an Englishman, I'm expected to celebrate, or how I might do so in an appropriate manner; should one eat leeks for dinner, or buy a bunch of daffodils to have round the house? To be frank - in an Anglo-Saxon manner not always appreciated by a Celtic ear that prefers a more lyrical way of speaking - I know very little about Wales and I'm not particularly interested in the country, its culture, or its history.

Further, what I do know of St. David, mostly makes me dislike him (as I do other glorified souls); not only did he help suppress the Pelagian heresy, which challenged the idea of original sin and gave man greater freedom and moral responsibility when faced with the problem of good and evil, but he also established a number of monasteries in which life was so austere and full of unnecessary hardship, that, in one of them, the monks rebelled and attempted to poison him - sick to death as they were of ploughing the fields without the aid of oxen and surviving on a diet that consisted almost solely of water, salted bread, and vegetables.    

Having said that, there is one thing I do greatly admire about him and the Welsh people who continue to subscribe to his final teaching that, what matters most, is paying attention to small concerns; Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd is something that even an Englishman (and a Nietzschean) can happily affirm - even if not easily say!  

In the Age of Denialism

Deny

... you wouldn't know the truth if it hit you in the eye

Nietzsche's perspectivism is neither a naive nor a radical form of relativism. 

His attempt to counter modern positivism by insisting there are no facts, only interpretations and that truth is a convenient metaphorical fiction that reflects our own anthropic conceit rather than referring to a mind-independent reality, isn't very helpful, however, when bombarded daily by fake news, post-truth politics, religious literalism, alternative therapies and pseudo-scientific woo that combine to make this an age not only of delusion, but what is now commonly termed denialism.

That is to say, an age in which something originally identified by Freudians as an unconscious coping mechanism temporarily deployed by individuals when faced with disturbing truths that they find impossible to deal with, has mutated into a conscious and often ideologically-driven rejection of evidence or an empirically verifiable reality by those with an interest in believing the things they do as an article of faith, or according to the strength of their feeling.

Denialists will often employ sophisticated rhetorical tactics to create the illusion that they are interested in serious debate, or freedom of speech, when, actually, they are interested only in promoting their own views, no matter how crackpot: the earth is flat, for example, evolution just a theory, 9/11 an inside job ...

If such nonsense harmed no one, then, I suppose, we could afford to turn a blind eye or simply laugh it away. But, unfortunately, it can often have fatal consequences; as in South Africa, for example, under Thabo Mbeki, who embraced AIDS denialism, deciding that it was linked to poverty and bad nutrition and had nothing to do with infection by the human immunodeficiency virus.

It has been estimated that over 330,000 premature deaths could have been prevented during his ten year presidency if proper treatment had been made available and that tens of thousands of HIV positive mothers unnecessarily transmitted the disease to their children because, rather than being prescribed anti-retrovirals, they were encouraged instead by Mbeki's health minister to eat plenty of garlic, beetroot and African potato.

Thus, clearly, denialism must be challenged.

Unfortunately, this isn't always easy. For one is dealing with people driven by a range of motivations, but who are all equally unreasonable; people more than happy to abandon or openly disregard the conventions and ground rules of rational discourse. It's a futile and deeply depressing exercise trying to debate a creationist, or a believer in homeopathy.

All one can do is attempt to expose the (sometimes cynical, sometimes crazy, but always illegitimate and underhand) tactics they employ to spread their lies, fallacies, and conspiracy theories.    


Further reading for those interested in this topic:

Chris and Mark Hoofnagle's Denialism Blog: click here. 

Pascal Diethelm and Martin McKee, 'Denialism: what is it and how should scientists respond?', European Journal of Public Health, (Oxford Academic, 20 Jan 2009): click here.  

Witches Versus Trump

News that a coven of American witches, assembled via Facebook and including the singer-songwriter Lana Del Rey among their number, met up outside Trump Tower in New York a couple of nights ago for the purpose of casting a powerful binding spell on the President and his supporters, doesn't really surprise me; for I am well acquainted with the delusional vanity of those who believe they possess magical powers.

Conservative Christian groups have reacted with predictable moral outrage and called for action to be taken against those who have, they say, committed an act of spiritual warfare against not just the current administration, but the United States as One Nation Under God. 

But, really, they needn't worry or get too het up; these ludicrous women don't possess diabolical or supernatural powers; just some old candles, a pack of tarot cards, and a disturbing inability to accept the fact that Hilary lost the election. 

Ultimately, this is more about political denialism than pagan occultism ...

                

Carry on Plautus: The Romans in Films and on TV

Frankie Howerd and other members of the cast trying hard 

not to titter on the set of Up Pompeii (BBC TV 1969-70)

According to Barthes, the method favoured by Hollywood to signify Ancient Roman masculinity is the insistent use of a particular hairstyle. In MGM's 1953 adaptation of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, for example, all the male characters are wearing fringes: 

"Some have them curly, some straggly, some tufted, some oily, all have them well combed, and the bald are not admitted, although there are plenty to be found in Roman history. Those who have little hair have not been let off for all that, and the hairdresser - the kingpin of the film - has still managed to produce one last lock which duly reaches the top of the forehead, one of those Roman foreheads, whose smallness has at all times indicated a specific mixture of self-righteousness, virtue and conquest."   

The fringe and forelock method, says Barthes, is a sign system operating in the open that not only affords the actor instant historical plausibility, but also provides the audience with overwhelming evidence that they're watching a realistic on screen portrayal of Ancient Rome. Even the non-Romanness of Anglo-American faces doesn't overly distract or amuse; everyone is reassured by this simple technique.

But, one might ask, what of the Roman women; how is their femininity signified within popular culture (and the pornographic imagination)?

Unfortunately, Barthes doesn't provide us with an answer, although he does note how, in the same film, Portia and Calpurnia are both awoken during the dead of night and their "conspicuously uncombed hair" not only expresses their nocturnal surprise, but their inner turmoil and vulnerability (he calls this a sub-sign in the category of capillary meanings).

Given his interest in the language of fashion, I suspect that, had Barthes chosen to analyse this subject, he'd almost certainly have done so in terms of clothes and make-up and related his remarks once more to the cinema. But for someone of my generation and background, growing up in late-sixties/early-seventies Britain, the key point of reference and source of all knowledge about the world (be it true or false, laudible or reprehensible), is television.

Thus it is that my idea of the typical Roman matron was formed by Elizabeth Larner as Ammonia in Up Pompeii. And my stereotypical fantasy of saucy Roman sexpots is similarly shaped by the nubile young actresses in skimpy outfits performing alongside Frankie Howerd, including Georgina Moon as Erotica.  

However, whilst Up Pompeii can be discussed from many critical perspectives, I'm not sure it's possible to read it semiotically. For its signs lack any ambiguity and are neither extreme nor intermediate in the Barthesian sense of these terms.

In other words, Up Pompeii aims neither at realism nor artifice; nor even the duplicity peculiar to bourgeois art (i.e. the hybrid form of naturalness). Viewers are not asked to believe in what they're watching, but neither are they obliged to suspend disbelief; they're simply invited to enjoy the show in all its Carry On style campness and vulgarity. 

Barthes would probably have found it boring; not even a degraded spectacle. But I've a suspicion that the Roman playwright Plautus, whose Greek-style comedies relying upon crude puns and stock characters such as the scheming slave and lecherous old man inspired the writers and producers of Up Pompeii, would have laughed at the antics of Lurcio and company ...

  
See: Roland Barthes, 'The Romans in Films', Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers, (Hill and Wang, 1978), pp. 26-8.    

Another Brief Note on the Case of Milo Yiannopoulos

Photo of Milo Yiannopoulos by Jill Greenberg

for a feature-interview by Chadwick Moore

in Out Magazine (21 Sept 16)

Among several interesting announcements by a conservatively dressed and contrite sounding Milo Yiannopoulos at his recent New York press conference (called in response to the media hoo-ha over his apparent endorsement of paedophilia), was the fact that he intends henceforth to primarily entertain and educate his audience, rather than outrage his opponents first and foremost.

In other words, Mr Yiannopoulos is attempting to reinvent himself as a kind of pedagogic clown, on a mission, like the great English essayist and playwright Ben Jonson, to mix profit with pleasure, rather than simply act as an alt-right provocateur and internet super-villain.

I wish him luck: the trouble is, however, that in order to succeed he must quickly find a way to make people laugh and demonstrate he has something insightful to say about the world and I'm not convinced he's funny or thoughtful enough to do so. Bill Maher's fawning description of him as a "young, gay, alive Christopher Hitchens" is clearly overly generous. As Peter Bradshaw writes, in comparison to the latter, Milo is dull, suburban and straight. He's certainly no Hitch.

Further, one suspects that his demons will sooner or later lead him back towards what he's perversely good at: pissing people off and arousing hatred. Ultimately, Milo Yiannopoulos is what he is: X (readers are invited to fill in the space by providing their own thoughts and projecting their own fantasies).

He's probably not someone who genuinely wishes to enrich people's lives by informing, educating and entertaining; we have Brian Cox for that. And although he often refers to free speech, he doesn't seem to care about opening up debate or advancing any cause.

For ultimately, he's into chaos - and the cash that comes from chaos; a kind of sex pistol, if you like, spreading a stylish and subversive form of shallow, nacissistic nihilism. And I suppose that's why I can't help having a degree of affection for him - that and the fact he's just so good-looking.


Those interested in the case of Milo Yiannopoulos might like to read a related post: click here.

 

Post 777: Three Sevens Clash

Party flag of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB)

For those who believe numbers carry symbolic weight and magical significance, the number 777 is loaded with cultural, religious and political symbolism. 

Kabbalists, for example, consider three and seven as perfect numbers, thus three sevens side-by-side suggests a form of hyperperfection, which, surely, must be a way to describe God. Christian mystics develop this idea with their insistence that 777 represents the threefold nature of the Holy Trinity. Either way, it's seen as a divine number that counters and eventually triumphs over the Number of the Beast (666).

The esoteric traditions of the East also get excited whenever the number seven appears, as they believe it's the fundamental number underlying (and holding together) the entire universe; thus they babble on about the seven heavens, the seven planes of creation, and the seven sacred openings of the body - 777.

Of course, Aleister Crowley couldn't resist subscribing to this mystical nonsense and absorbing it into his Golden Dawn inspired teachings on the Law of Thelema; a collection of his papers, edited by Israel Regardie, was given the title 777 (first published anonymously in 1909).

Even today, in this modern secular age, 777 is thought to be lucky and signifies a jackpot on many fruit machines. Some readers, however, may recall it being used in a far more sinister context by the neo-Nazi Afrikaner Resistance Movement; the black numbers arranged on their party flag in a menacing triskelion design so as to resemble a swastika and set on a pure white disk against a blood-red background. 

It's always interesting to note, is it not, how occult mumbo-jumbo and dubious theology invariably sustain a reactionary and authoritarian form of politics ... 

Sympathy for the Devil: The Case of Milo Yiannopoulos

Photo of Milo Yiannopoulos by Jill Greenberg 
for a feature-interview by Chadwick Moore 
in Out Magazine (21 Sept 16).

 

Darling of the alt-right and troll provocateur, Milo Yiannopoulos is, without question, an irritating and often obnoxious little prick; someone who mistakenly believes that because he has a beautiful mouth, he can get away with saying ugly things.

However, I would absolutely defend his right to say those ugly things and think the decision by Simon and Schuster to cancel publication of his autobiography, Dangerous (due out later this year and for which they reportedly paid him a $250,000 advance), is as absurd as the moral guardians at Twitter placing him under a lifetime ban from their news and networking service.

For it seems to me that freedom of speech has to cover what many would identify as hate speech or abusive language, in order to be worth defending. If it only guarantees the right of snowflakes to hear what they want to hear in the comfort of their safe spaces, or merely serves to reinforce liberal values and public opinion, then we may as well rip up the First Amendment.

Similarly, if you pride yourself on an ideal of tolerance, then, my friend, you must learn to tolerate that which and those whom you find intolerable. Only tolerating that which and those whom you find tolerable is nothing to be proud of - in fact it's nothing at all; a mere pretence of sufference in order to hypocritically virtue signal.

Simon and Schuster’s decision followed outrage over the release of a recording in which Yiannopoulos was said to endorse paedophilia. What he actually says, however, is that the age of consent is purely arbitrary - which, obviously, it is - and that a pederastic relationship between a younger boy and an older man can be a hugely positive experience - which, as the ancient Greeks demonstrated, can certainly be the case (I suggest Milo's outraged critics read Plato).

Thus, claims that Yiannopoulos advocated or endorsed the sexual exploitation of children are false and far more scurrilous than anything he has ever said or written. And so, whilst it's hard to feel too sorry for him, I nevertheless find myself sympathetic on this occasion - doubtless thereby earning the contempt and stern, po-faced disapproval of the anti-Milo that is Owen Jones ...


Note: those who are interested in this debate might like to read Owen Jones's righteously indignant piece in The Guardian entitled 'Milo Yiannopoulos's enablers deserve contempt - and must be confronted' (21 Feb 2017): click here.
   
See also the related post on Milo Yiannopouos: click here. 

Lex Oppia: On Women, Cosmetics and Austerity in Ancient Rome

Julie Ege as Voluptua in Up Pompeii, 
dir. Bob Kellett, 1971

The noblewomen of Ancient Rome - being sophisticated and molto moderne - understood that everything that served to display their beauty and enhance their status, including make-up, was of crucial importance. Via a bold and striking use of white foundation, black eye-liner and red lipstick, for example, they struck a blow for their own sex in a patriarchal society and exploited the glamorous power of cosmetics.    

Originally used only for ritual purposes, expensive cosmetics and perfumes imported from far away lands, quickly became central to the life of the privileged few women - and the prostitutes - who could afford to purchase these items and had skilled slaves (known as cosmatae) to help apply them throughout the course of the day.

In 215 BC, however, at the height of the Second Punic War, a law was passed - the Lex Oppia - which aimed not only to limit women's wealth, but any conspicuous display of wealth; specifically, it forbade any woman to possess more than half an ounce of gold, to wear multi-coloured clothing (particularly garments trimmed in purple), to ride in an animal-drawn vehicle through the city streets, or use designer cosmetics. 
  

The Lex Oppia was thus more than merely an economic measure drawn up in response to serious financial crisis; it sought to establish an era of austerity by restricting the freedom and splendour of women. The basis for this sexist moral concern with luxury was the assumption that these things were signs of decadence; they encouraged greed and self-indulgence and, it was said, undermined male virtue.  

Following victory over Carthage, however, fortunes soon revived in Rome as riches from the newly conquered regions began to flow into the hands of the ruling elite, giving them - and their women - the opportunity to lead more excessive lifestyles. Thus, there was a radical change in mood and in mores; with financial woes left behind, there was no reason not to live large or to have dowdy wives and mistresses. 

Any continuing efforts to legally prohibit displays of wealth or deny feminine beauty proved unpopular and largely unsuccessful and it was eventually proposed that the Lex Oppia be repealed, despite vehement protest from Cato the Elder, who argued that the law had removed the shame of poverty and vice of envy because it ensured that all women dressed in a very similar, very simple manner and didn't disguise themselves like whores with too much make-up. 

Cato - a senator well known for his conservatism and opposition to Hellenization - further insisted that women's insatiable desire to spend money beyond their means on shoes, clothes, cosmetics, perfume, jewellery, and elaborate hairstyles, was an incurable disease that threatened the well-being and good order of Roman society. Once they had been corrupted by luxury, he said, women became like wild animals; no longer to be trusted to restrain thelmselves from rushing headlong into an orgy of lavish and immoral behaviour.

Whilst the men continued to endlessly debate the issue, the women of Rome took to the streets, demanding the right to wear the clothes and make-up of their own choosing and ignoring their husbands and the magistrates who ordered them to return home and remain silent. Amusingly - and impressively - this persistent proto-feminist revolt into style proved successful and the Lex Oppia was formally repealed in 195 BC, much to the delight of the women who paraded victorious in their now legal finery around the Forum. 

On How Not to Be a Feminist - A Guest Post by Maria Thanassa

Spot the difference: Sweden's Minister for EU Affairs and Trade 
and Iran's Vice President for Women and Family Affairs, 
modestly sign a deal in Tehran, 11 Feb 2017
 Photo: Ebrahim Noroozi / AP

It takes so much more than a grand statement of intent on a web page to pursue a feminist foreign policy ...

The Swedish government's decision to suspend its own principles in Tehran because it wasn't the right opportunity to take a stand, is sadly not the first instance of the West failing to put its money where its mouth is; nor will it be the last (especially when its economic interests are threatened).

Disappointing as it may be, the failure of Sweden's government to acknowledge the rank hypocrisy of its actions is therefore hardly surprising. Nor is it any wonder that the mayor of London - all too willing to march in protest against gender inequality in the wake of Donald Trump’s inauguration - saw no incongruity in an EU member state signing trade deals with a theocratic regime that systematically persecutes gays and violates the freedom of expression for women.

I suppose it's far easier - and far less dangerous - for western politicians to condemn the pussy-grabbing sexism of the US administration or the burkini ban in France, than the murderous, state-approved violence against women of Islamic cultures. The question arises, however, why so few feminists dare criticise Islam when criticism is patently due.

Consider, for example, The Women's March on London: the organisers stated that the march was "for the protection of fundamental rights and for the safeguarding of freedoms threatened by recent political events". They further declared that the event would "send a bold message to the world that women’s rights are human rights ... that an attack on one group is an attack on us all." Complacency, they insisted is not an option.

One might reasonably expect, therefore, that images of female Swedish politicians deferentially veiled during an official trip to Iran, would attract some attention and some anger amongst at least some of the self-appointed champions of liberal values. To paraphrase Iranian feminist Azadeh Davachi, if western women are concerned about Donald Trump's cabinet and his views toward women, surely it follows that they have to consider women's rights in Iran.

But no, hardly a word on the matter. Regrettably, one is led to conclude that western feminists are so obsessed with dismantling capitalist patriarchy and swatting WASPs, that they are blind to female oppression within Muslim communities - including those established in towns and cities across the West.

This is the kind of partisan feminism that sees the speck of sawdust in its brother's eye, but fails to spot the beam in its own ...


Athens-born Maria Thanassa is a teacher of Greek language, literature, and film. She has a Ph.D. from Kings College, London and is the founder and director of EKON Arts. She also writes a blog that combines her love of baking, photography and poetry: Moonshine and Lemon.

Maria appears here as part of the Torpedo the Ark Gastautoren Programm and I am very grateful for her contribution and her kind permission to edit and revise this post.  

How Religion Makes Monkeys of Us All

Image from the theatrical poster for Bill Maher's

Religulous, dir. Larry Charles (2008) 

Scientists working in the Republic of Guinea recently produced intriguing visual evidence suggesting that chimpanzees may have a spiritual side to their nature. Having set up remote cameras in what remains of the forest, Laura Kehoe and her team captured apes performing activity which might possibly be characterized as ritualistic. 

Sometimes, the chimps would gently place stones in the hollow of a tree - as if leaving offerings at a shrine. On other occasions, they might strike the sacred tree with a rock in order to produce a distinctive and, for the participants, clearly meaningful sound. 

Of course, this isn't definitive proof that chimps believe in or worship a deity of any kind. Further observation and experimentation is needed before we can interpret the above with any degree of certainty. However, it does indicate that their behaviour is far more complex and has a greater symbolic component than previously realised, or, indeed, is admitted by those who wish to maintain the anthropocentric conceit of human exceptionalism; they're not just thinking about bananas.

More, it also provides weight to Nietzsche's contention that virtue originates in the animal kingdom; that our highest values, our sense of awe and of reverence, our will to transcendence and subordination, do not make us distinctly human. Rather, they show just how little we've evolved.

Religion, one might conclude, is not only a form of violent tribalism and savage superstition; it effectively makes monkeys of us all ... 

Note: those interested in reading more on Nietzsche's animal philosophy should click here.

On the Difficulty of Death for Old Ladies

Tony Luciani: Internal Reflection,
 from  Mamma: In the Meantime (2016)
(A series of photos and paintings featuring his 93-year-old mother, Elia.)

The comic actor, Steve Martin, once conceded that he'd never made a great movie. But, he went on to say, he had made several films that contained genuinely great scenes. I think something similar might be said about the verse of Michel Houellebecq; no really great poems, but many that contain genuinely great lines. 

Those critics who characterise his work as callow and clichéd, or dismiss it as insipid and ineffectual, are not so much mistaken as beside the point. For these things, of necessity, belong to a body of work that is bold enough and big enough to incorporate them; a form of writing that affirms what Nietzsche terms a general economy of the whole.

In other words, the secret of really interesting poetry, like Houellebecq's, is not the fact that it contains powerful and original elements, but that it's unafraid to make mistakes and display its weaknesses. Further, it parades intertextual indebtedness with pride and invites readers to hear echoes of other authors.
        

But this post isn't intended to be a defence of Houellebecq as an artist, nor a comprehensive review of his new dual-language selection of poems entitled Unreconciled. Rather, I want simply to indicate how some of Houellebecq's reflections on old women approaching death resonate with my own observations and experience ...

Death is difficult for old ladies who are too rich, says Houellebecq, referring to the kind of women who own antique furniture and wind up in cemeteries: Surrounded by cypresses and plastic shrubs. But, actually, death is often difficult for many women - even those whom he calls the council-flat old / Who imagine till the end that they are loved and wind up at the crematorium: In a little cabinet with a white label.

For many women - particularly mothers - simply refuse to let go and die. Men, as a rule, die sooner and with less fuss, less bitterness; they know when the game is up and they'll be best off out of it, as my father would say. Women - particularly mothers - aim to stay for as long as possible in their sordid bedrooms where they keep little objects tucked in their wardrobes - the insides of which reveal just how cruel and how futile life can be.

On and on these undying women persist; watching TV without quite catching what is said (despite the increased volume) and eating their meals without appetite (despite the added salt); growing older and increasingly feeble in mind and body: You see clearly the nothingness awaiting them / Especially in the morning when they rise, pale, / And moan for their first cup of tea.

In a very moving couple of stanzas, worth quoting in the original French, Houellebecq writes:

Les vieux savant pleurer avec un bruit minime,
Ils oublient les pensées et ils oblient les gestes
Ils ne rient plus beaucoup, et tout ce qui leur reste
Au bout de de quelques mois, avant la phase ultime,

Ce sont quelques paroles, presque tourjours les mêmes:
Merci je n'ai pas faim, mon fils viendra dimanche,
Je sens mes intestins, mon fils viendra quand même.
Et le fils n'est pas là, et leurs mains presque blanches.

This is mostly true and, sadly, often the case. Though, not wanting to be defined as a son by my absence, I'm doing what I can to provide care and ensure my mother doesn't become just another unloved body dying without mystery. It's hard work though; depressing, tiring, frustrating, boring, etc.

But so are many jobs and at least caring affords me the opportunity to listen to the little birds in the garden and read poetry on my birthday ...  


See: Michel Houellebecq, Unreconciled: Poems 1991-2013, trans. Gavin Bowd, (William Heinemann, 2017). All the lines quoted, in full or part, are Bowd's translations from the French and are taken from three untitled poems, pp. 29-33. 

For those interested in the work of Tony Luciani, click here to access his website, or here for information about his exhibition, Mamma: In the Meantime, at the Loch Gallery, Toronto, Canada.

What are Poets for ...?

Hölderlin's question - which became Heidegger's question also - wozu Dichter in dürftiger Zeit? remains, for those of us who are interested in such things, a matter of some urgency. 

For in a time of fake news and a general poverty of thinking - these things characterizing our own destitution - clearly we need to acknowledge the importance of those who have the ability to attend closely and carefully to language and its limits (poets) and those who might theorize such a method of thinking in relation to the world we live in today (philosophers).     

Of course, this doesn't mean we need poets to simply set the facts straight, nor signal their moral and political idealism by speaking truth to power - a cant phrase coined by Quakers in the 1950s and adopted ever since by would-be warriors of social justice and so-called activists. If I want to hear opinionated idiots express their beliefs, then I can follow them on Twitter.

Poets must never assert anything as all-knowing subjects. And poetry must free itself of any conceited humanism, becoming Machiavellian in its objective purity; sans mélange, cru, vert, dans toute sa force, dans toute son âpreté, as Nietzsche would say. We don't speak such poetry; it speaks us. And, more, it transforms the world; not through noisy direct action, but through silent deferral that opens up the possibility of Newness.

In other words, poets are not there to serve as commentators on world events - verse is not a type of flowery journalism. Their task, rather, is to provide the preliminary conditions necessary for a demonic Event: something that unfolds in time, but which is nevertheless Unzeitgemäße and Unheimlich in the sense that it comes from Outside; something which radially changes our understanding of reality and allows us to scrape off the viscous covering of doxa protecting categories of the present.

Poets, then, still have a profoundly important role to play in this era of despots and crackpots. But, alas, I sometimes think the real question we should be asking is: Wo sind die heuter Dichter?              

Monkey Business (On Human-Chimp Sexuality)

It's commonly assumed that human males are more easily aroused, more promiscuous and more prepared to fuck just about anything, than human females. But the available research data seems to suggest otherwise. Indeed, the evidence indicates that it's women - not men - who are more polymorphously perverse and erotically plastic in their pleasures, including interspecies shenanigans.

In a famous experiment performed by Canadian sexologist Meredith Chivers, for example, women were shown pornographic videos featuring men and women engaged in heterosexual, lesbian and male homosexual activity. They were also shown films, with added sound effects, of polyamorous bonobos vigorously having sex. Chivers wanted to find out if there was a difference between what women think excites them and what actually turns them on; so it was that the women were hooked up to a vaginal photoplethysmograph, to measure any changes in lubrication, blood flow, or vascongestion.

Asked to record their reactions, the predominantly heterosexual women unsurprisingly said that they mainly enjoyed watching the straight sex scenes. But the VPG told a very different story; they were aroused by all of the sex scenes - including the monkey porn. Indeed, whatever their professed sexual orientation, the women showed significant and rapid genital arousal almost no matter what they watched on screen - girl-on-girl action, masturbating men, or apes getting jiggy with it.

Repeating the same experiment with men, however, Chivers obtained very different results. There was not only a much closer correspondence between mind and body (gay and straight men both physically responding in a category specific manner with what they said they found sexually arousing), but, interestingly, none of the men registered even the first stirrings of an erection whilst watching the bonobos bonking. Any expectation that explicit animal sex would speak to the untamed beast within was - in the case of the men at least - sadly mistaken.

Now, Chivers is quick to point out that this doesn't automatically mean that all women are subconsciously lusting after non-human primates, or dreaming of animal lovers. If we were to believe this on the basis of the physiological evidence, then we would also have to believe that they secretly desire to be raped; because the fact is some women are physically excited by extremely violent fantasy and some display signs of genital response (including orgasm) during actual sexual assault.

Chivers argues - convincingly, I feel - that vaginal lubrication evolved as an automatic protective response, to reduce discomfort and protect from injury during penetration; that it was not essentially a sign of sexual arousal or indicative of desire. Thus, what her data reveals is that even the sight of a pygmy chimp with a hard on can stimulate a reaction, so closely do they resemble humans and so anxious are women to reduce the prospect of coital pain.    

But what of the male apes? I hear you ask. If human females can subconsciously find them a sexual possibility (or threat), do they find women at all attractive?

Apparently - and contrary to what the picture above or certain pornographic fantasies, usually involving large gorillas, might suggest - our simian cousins are not exactly lining up to date, rape, or perv on women. Show a male chimp images of a female chimp's genitalia or swollen anal rump and he's interested to the point that he'll even accept a loss of fruit juice in exchange; show him a pornographic picture of a woman and it's no deal - he'll stick with his juice.

Obviously, there are exceptions; that is to say, there are cases of apes in captivity who, when given the chance, like to watch porn on TV. But, for the most part, chimps seem to prefer their own kind. What's more, they tend to have a very strong MILF fixation and consistently prefer older females over younger, inexperienced females (suggesting that the human male preference for younger women is a relatively recent evolutionary development).   


See: Meredith L. Chivers, Michael C. Seto and Ray Blanchard, 'Gender and Sexual Orientation Differences in Sexual Response to Sexual Activities Versus Gender of Actors in Sexual Films', in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Vol. 93, No. 6, 1108-1121 (American Psychological Association, 2007). Click here to read online version of this essay.