Reflections on the Museum of Youth Culture Exhibition 'God Save the Queens' & How You Too Will Learn to Live the Lie

Flyer for the God Save the Queens exhibition 

at the Museum of Youth Culture 

 

"The exhibition challenges traditional punk narratives by placing the women 

who helped shape the movement at the centre of the story: not as 

footnotes to punk history, but as some of its defining creative forces." [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Last week I went to a private viewing of the current exhibition showing at the Museum of Youth Culture [2]. God Save the Queens brings together rare and previously unseen artwork, photography, and personal archival material celebrating the women who shaped punk's look, sound, and cultural history.  

 

The exhibition is curated by Up Yours! - a non-profit, multimedia and art collective founded by Celeste Bell and others [3] to honour punk rock's female pioneers, who are now characterised as she-punks, whereas, back in the day, they were known by the rather less savage and much prettier sounding title of punkettes [4].

 

According to the Up Yours! mission statement, the aim is to "preserve, celebrate, and spotlight the under-appreciated music, literature, film, fashion, and visual art of women who shaped punk and DIY counterculture over the last 50 years". 

 

Which is all very admirable, though I would challenge the premise that the role played by women in punk - and the artwork produced by them - has been underappreciated or overlooked. It's Westwood, not McLaren, whom the fashion world idolises and I would suggest more people are familiar with the faces of Jordan and Soo Catwoman than those of Cook and Jones.     

 

 

II. 

 

But let's not quibble on this point. It's clear that the curators of the exhibition are pushing this tired narrative and continue to derive a certain amount of speaker's benefit [5] from it, so good luck to 'em! 

 

What concerned me more is how the show recreates a boring class system, with all the stars and usual suspects given centre stage (or, in this case, wall space). Meanwhile, actual punk youth is tokenistically given a couple of small boards on which to share their images and stories. For me, this goes against the punk ethos where 'anyone could be a Sex Pistol' and the audience mattered as much - if not more - than the performers.

 

In other words, my real issue with God Save the Queens is how easily a counterculture built on the erasure of hierarchy has been restratified [6] and - what's that word the Situationists liked to use? - ah yes, récupérated [7]. And recuperated with the curatorial connivance of the children of the punk revolution!   

 

 

III. 

 

Having said that - and here's the twist - I enjoyed the exhibition and because I wanted to memorialise an old friend, I even have a photo included in it myself [8]. And so I am, arguably, at some level complicit with - or at the very least caught within the wheels of - the culture industry's recuperative nostalgia. 

 

Similarly, thanks to my involvement with the Punk Scholars Network and the Subcultures Interest Group, I'm an uneasy collaborator with the academic recuperation of punk [9].

 

As The Pop Group once sang: We are all prostitutes / everyone has their price ... And we shall be hypocrites, hypocrites, hypocrites [10]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This quote is taken from the exhibition's promotional material and curatorial statement, framing God Save the Queens as a radical reclamation of space. As we shall see, the reality on the gallery walls tells a somewhat different story. 

 

[2] Just a few minutes' walk from Camden Road station, the Museum of Youth Culture moved to its now permanent location at 51 St. Pancras Way, London NW1 in June of this year, after operating previously as a pop-up museum in various temporary spaces. 

 

[3] Filmmaker and writer Celeste Bell is the daughter of Poly Styrene, which explains why the exhibition is primarily dedicated to the legacy of the late singer, songwriter, and frontwoman of X-Ray Spex. Ms Bell co-founded Up Yours! with Lauren Estelle Jones (yes, Mick's daughter) and the writer, musician and punk professor Vivien Goldman. 

      While Bell and Jones cannot help being the children of punk royalty, we cannot ignore how this lineage grants them the institutional access and cultural authority to determine the narrative. The paradox of an egalitarian counterculture being archived and gatekept by a hereditary hierarchy is central to the exhibition's structural tension. 

 

[4] The term she-punk was coined by Helen Reddington and later popularised by Vivien Goldman as an alternative to punkette and is presumably meant to sound a bit more spiky and savage, although it does make me think of Jennifer Walters and we might question this rejection of the feminine diminutive form; does it mark a victory for women or might it not be seen as an unintended reinforcement of the masculine? 

 

[5] This phrase, coined by Michel Foucault, is a critical component of his critique of l'hypothèse répressive. In brief, certain groups and individuals love believing they have been repressed and marginalised because it yields le bénéfice du locuteur - that is to say, an immediate emotional and political reward that one receives simply by daring to speak openly about a taboo subject or some past injustice. In this case, the Up Yours! Collective want to pretend they are defying the patriarchy and refusing to be silenced - as if they are outside of power and ushering in a liberated and more diverse, equitable, and inclusive future. And they do so with the kind of moral solemnity that some of the original punks would have been appalled by.  

      In sum, speaker's benefit gives the gratification of feeling like a rebel simply by talking about something that power structures and institutions actually want you to talk about and provide the material resources that enable you to do so. See Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality 1: The Will to Knowledge, trans. Robert Hurley (Penguin Books, 1998). 

 

[6] The sociological concept of restratification refers to the process of a movement such as punk shifting from a flat, egalitarian ideal back into a strict hierarchy. According to Robert Michels, there is an iron law of oligarchy determining this outcome. 

      Thus, as we see at the God Save the Queens exhibition, there are professionally taken photographs of punk icons (the creators and trendsetters) individually framed and carefully hung on the walls, signifying that the subject has cultural value and historical importance (not to mention aura and agency). And then there are snapshots of punk fans (the consumers and fashion followers) randomly collaged together on boards so that their individuality is reduced and they serve only to provide a little authenticity to the event. 

      Of course, to be fair to the curators, there was always a punk elite and in order for a museum to put on an exhibition of something as chaotic as punk they have to make it intelligible to a viewing public and so naturally apply their own bureaucratic (and commercial) metrics; identify the leaders and the marketable faces, etc. 

 

[7] Recuperation is the process by which politically radical ideas and images are co-opted and commodified by the powers that be, thereby neutralising them. In this case, it's the appropriation of punk (and youthful rebellion) by the culture industry. 

 

[8] The picture is of Lorrie Millington - see the sister post to this one titled 'Lorrie and the She-Punks' (30 Oct 2026). 

 

 [9] See the post titled 'On Torn Edges and the Need to Archive' (25 March 2024) in which I share thoughts on the PSN. And to access a number of posts that detail my involvement with SIG and its annual publication SIG News go to torpedotheark.blogspot.com/search/label/subcultures%20interest%20group 

 

[10] Lyrics from 'We Are All Prostitutes', by The Pop Group, (Rough Trade, 1979).  

 

 

On Sexiness (With Reference to Malcolm McLaren's Shallow 1-21)

 

A still from Malcolm McLaren's Shallow 1-21 (2008) 

showing a woman slowly eating some grapes in a sexy fashion 

Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art  

 

'What excites today - after the orgy as Baudrillard would say - 

isn't explicit pornography, but very slow-moving portraits of people 

thinking about, desiring, wanting, wishing for, and imagining having sex.' 

 

 

I. 

 

D. H. Lawrence famously equates sex with beauty, insisting that they are one and the same thing; "like flame and fire" [1] and that sex appeal is, therefore, the appeal of living beauty. 

 

Barthes, however, isn't having any of this. 

 

For Barthes, the sexiness of a body has nothing to do with its beauty. Rather, it "inheres in the fact that it is possible to discern (to fantasise) in it the erotic practice to which one subjects it in thought" [2].     

 

That's a definition which would make Lawrence splutter in his tea. He'd accuse Barthes of having his sex in his head (to be fair, the above does very much lend itself to such a reading). 

 

But it's a definition that I think Malcolm McLaren would have immediately understood and appreciated; for, in a sense, it provides the key with which to unlock the secret of his multimedia artwork titled Shallow 1-21 (2008). 

 

 

II. 

 

Consisting of a series of what he liked to call musical paintings, the work combines some of McLaren's favourite songs and pieces of music with appropriated video clips from vintage films of people just before they engage in sexual acts, looping moments of heavy breathing, the parting of lips, or the slow unbuttoning of a shirt [3].

 

By focusing entirely on the excitement of anticipation rather than explicit acts, McLaren conceptualised the 86-minute work as a subversion of pornography and hoped to demonstrate the truth of Casanova's famous claim that the finest of all moments in the game of love comes when one is climbing the stairs [4].    

III.

 

Lawrence, of course, would hate McLaren's film. 

 

But Barthes, I think, would have appreciated the work. Indeed, it might be argued that, in some manner, Shallow is a version of Barthes's projected work on sexuality.

 

Enchanted by a young couple sitting opposite him on the train - "the woman is blonde, made up; she is wearing big dark glasses, reads Paris-Match; she has a ring on each finger, and each nail on both hands is painted a different colour from its two neighbours" [5] - Barthes conceives the idea of a new book (or of a film). 

 

In this work, there would be "nothing but secondary sex characteristics (nothing pornographic); in it one would grasp (would try to grasp) the sexual 'personality' of each body, which is neither its beauty nor even its 'sexiness' but the way in which each sexuality immediately lets itself be read" [6].

 

From this, one can see why Barthes once described himself as a homotextual. 

 

He continues:

 

"For the young blonde with the harlequin nails and her young husband with his tight pants and warm eyes were wearing their couple-sexuality like the legion-of-honour ribbon in a buttonhole (sexuality and respectability relating to the same kind of display), and this legible sexuality [...] filled the compartment, by an irresistible metonymy, much more certainly than any series of coquetries." [7]   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] D. H. Lawrence 'Sex Appeal', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 145. For a discussion of this piece, see the post dated 24 September 2018: click here.  

 

[2] Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes, trans. Richard Howard (Papermac 1995), p. 164.  

 

[3] McLaren developed the first eight videos for Shallow in 2007 for a New York group show. He completed the rest of the 21 musical paintings in 2008, officially premiering the entire collection at Art Basel in Switzerland in June 2008. 

      For those readers who might be interested, McLaren discusses the work on Artforum (16 July 2008): click here. 

 

[4] Interestingly, Michel Foucault points out that whilst this may well have been true within an eighteenth-century heterosexual context, the reverse is probably the case within the world of homosexuality. Foucault claims that the modern homosexual would be more likely to say something along the lines of: The best moment of love is when the lover leaves in the taxi. 

      He explains: "It is when the act is over and the boy is gone that one begins to dream about the warmth of his body, the quality of his smile, the tone of his voice. It is the recollection rather than the anticipation of the act that assumes a primary importance in homosexual relations. This is why the great homosexual writers of our culture (Cocteau, Genet, Burroughs) can write so elegantly about the sexual act itself, because the homosexual imagination is for the most part concerned with reminiscing about the act rather than anticipating it." 

      This brilliant observation was made in the interview conducted by James O'Higgins titled 'Sexual Choice, Sexual Act'. It can be found in Foucault Live: Collected Interviews, 1961-1984, ed. Sylvère Lotringer, trans. Lysa Hochroth and John Johnston (Semiotext[e], 1996), pp. 322-334. The lines quoted above are on page 330. 

 

[5] Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes ... p. 164. 

      The interview can also be read in the American quarterly magazine Salmagundi, No. 58/59 (Fall 1982 - Winter 1983): click here to read online.  

 

[6] Ibid.

 

[7] Ibid.

 

 

For a related post to this on the politics of accelerationism contra slowness with reference to Shallow 1-21, which was published on 11 April 2025, click here.  

 

 

Douglas Murray Contra Michel Foucault

The Ghost of Michel Foucault Haunting Douglas Murray

(SA/2025) 

 

I. 

 

Readers familiar with Torpedo the Ark may recall that I have written several posts which mention the neoconservative political commentator and cultural critic Douglas Murray: click here.

 

And whilst I wasn't exactly blown away by either of the books of his that I've read - The Strange Death of Europe (2017) and The Madness of Crowds (2019) - I still find him in many ways an admirable figure and, if forced to choose, would still rather go to dinner with him than Gaby Hinsliff.   

 

However, the fact that Murray continues to denigrate Michel Foucault's work - or, more precisely, abhor Foucault's influence within academia - is something I still find disappointing (and kind of irritating) ...

 

 

II.

 

Speaking in conversation with philosopher Roger Scruton at an event organised by The Spectator in 2019 [1], Murray concedes that, as a writer, Foucualt is often brilliant and his books are "filled with resonant phrases and so on" [2]. 

 

However, Murray cannot forgive the fact that Foucault deconstructs the notion of truth as an objective thing in itself, to be pursued rigorously and maintained as an absolute standard or ideal: "I finally read Foucault last year and I have to say: I'm so appalled ..." 

 

And why is he so appalled? 

 

Because, says Murray, whilst he'd previously read about Foucault's work and heard others discuss it - and whilst he'd always known that he "sort of instinctively disliked it" - it was only after reading it [3] that he realised how catastrophic Foucault's philosophical project really is:  

 

"this sort of perversion of all life [...] as being solely about power, and the ignoring of every other human instinct - the total ignoring of love, the total ignoring of forgiveness; power, only power." 

 

That, I think, is an unfair and grotesque caricature of Foucault and his work; one that goes beyond being a gross oversimplification [4]. 

 

I'm not a Foucault scholar, but I'm pretty sure that he didn't think of power as something that could be possessed and didn't think either in terms of oppressed groups needing to be emancipated from the domination of more powerful oppressors; he was a post-Nietzschean thinker, not a neo- or quasi-Marxist [5]. 

 

Thus, whilst power certainly plays an important role in his philosophy, he conceives of it in a highly novel manner as something complex that produces things (including us as subjects) and puts something new into the world; it induces pleasures, generates discursive practices, forms bodies of knowledge, etc. It is power - not love - which runs through the entire social body and which, as a matter of fact, calls love into being [6]. 

 

For Murray this is a distortion of the truth: but then, he would say that wouldn't he, as an idealist who, despite professing to be an atheist, still affirms Christian virtues [7].  

Oh, and whilst we're discussing this: I think it's also profoundly mistaken to blame Foucault for the rise of identity politics (which Murray does): Foucault, the masked philosopher and anti-essentialist, argued that identities are not inherent but socially and historically constructed and could easily become traps or a form of subjugation.

 

Instead of creating or maintaining identity, Foucault's political strategy was more focused on refusing it and developing new forms of resistance and even a cursory reading of his work makes it pretty obvious that he would have very little time for today's identity politics (would, in fact, see it as reactionary; a return to the same old bullshit to do with fixed categories and subjectivation). 

 

I really don't understand why Murray fails to see this; particularly as he claims to have read Foucault. It's almost a wilful misunderstanding - one which Jordan Peterson also buys into - and if I said earlier that I'd rather go to dinner with Murray than Gaby Hinsliff, I'd like it to be noted that I'd sooner go to dinner with Foucault than Murray (even if dinner with Foucault often involved nothing more than a club sandwich and a Coke) [8].  

 

Notes

 

[1] The full transcript of Douglas Murray's conversation with Roger Scruton (8 May 2019), in which they discuss what it means to be a conservative, can be found on The Spectator website: click here. All lines quoted in this post from Murray are taken from here. 

      The relevant clip from the night in which Foucault is condemned by both men, has been posted by Culture Wolf on YouTube: click here. Anybody who thinks they might like to watch the entire event online can visit The Spectator website: click here.     

 

[2] Note how Murray doesn't say ideas; implying Foucault was a mere stylist rather than a major thinker. 

 

[3] The fact that Murray doesn't mention any specific books or essays, leaves one to wonder the extent of his reading of Foucault who published around a dozen books during his lifetime and who has had at least twice as many posthumous publications of essay collections, lecture series, etc.

 

[4] It is also, of course, a live paraphrase of a passage that will appear in The Madness of Crowds:    

      "From Michel Foucault [...] thinkers absorbed their idea of society not as an infinitely complex system of trust and traditions that have evolved over time, but always in the unforgiving light cast when everything is viewed solely through the prism of 'power'. Viewing all human interactions in this light distorts, rather than clarifies, presenting a dishonest interpretation of our lives. Of course power exists as a force in the world, but so do charity, forgiveness and love. If you were to ask most people what matters in their lives very few would say 'power'. Not because they haven't absorbed their Foucault, but because it is perverse to see everything in life through such a monomaniacal lens."

      See Douglas Murray, The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity (Bloomsbury, 2019), p. 53. 

 

[5] As one commentator has recently pointed out:

      

"Right-wing critics frequently label Foucault's thought as another species of Marxism. Douglas Murray wrote in The War on The West (2022) that  'Foucault's obsessive analysis of everything through a quasi-Marxist lens of power relations diminished almost everything in society into a transactional, punitive and meaningless dystopia.' Jordan Peterson has also been fond of calling Foucault a 'postmodern neo-Marxist'.

      It's a popular and long-held narrative, but there are several problems with it. For one, it is incoherent to describe Foucault as a 'neo-Marxist' or a  'cultural Marxist'. He, like other postmodern thinkers, was broadly opposed to Marxism."

      - Ralph Leonard, 'Michel Foucault still confuses the Right, 40 years later', Unheard (25 June 2024): click here. As Leonard rightly goes on to argue, it's Nietzsche, not Marx, that haunts Foucault's philosophy. 

 

[6] I'm thinking here of something written by D. H. Lawrence:

      "For power is the first and greatest of the mysteries. It is the mystery behind all our being, even behind all our existence. Even the phallic erection is a first blind movemet of power. Love is said to call the power into motion: but it is probably the reverse; that the slumbering power calls love into being."

      See Lawrence's essay 'Blessed Are the Powerful', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 327. 

 

[7] In a live streamed video conversation on a Christian radio podcast with the theologian and former Anglican Bishop of Durham, Tom Wright, Murray confessed:      

      "I was brought up a Christian, a believing Christian into my adult life, and am now, I suppose, in a self-confessedly complex situation of being among other things an uncomfortable agnostic who recognises the values and the virtues that the Christian faith has brought."

      See 'The Big Conversation' (season 3, episode 3), hosted by Justin Brierly (13 May 2021): click here.

 

[8] In an amusing interview, Foucault expressed his preference for American fast food over French cuisine; specifically mentioning a club sandwich and a Coke, followed by ice cream. 

      The interview, with Stephen Riggins, was first published in the Canadian journal Ethos (Autumn, 1983). As well as revealing his favourite meal, Foucault also voiced his thoughts on the quest for monastic austerity and a cultural ethos of silence. It can also be found under the title 'The Minimalist Self' in Politics, Philosophy, Culture, ed. Alan Sheridan and Lawrence D. Kritzman (Routledge, 1988), pp. 3-16.  

 

Lest We Forget the Old Creature's Birthday

  The inside of this card reads:  

 

Sobald ein Mensch auf die Welt kommt, ist er schon alt genug zu sterben ... [1]

 

Tout ce qui existe naît sans raison, se prolonge par faiblesse et meurt par hasard ... [2]

 

 

This Wednesday, lest we forget, is Nietzsche's birthday: he was born in Röcken, Germany, on 15 October 1844 [3]. 

 

And whilst the village he was born in has now been absorbed into the expanding town of Lützen, a few miles southwest of Leipzig, the actual house he was born in still stands, next to the church where his father was a pastor, and is now part of a memorial site that includes his grave [4].  

 

Not that Nietzsche was one to make a huge fuss over his birthday; indeed, in 1880, he even forgot it entirely, explaining to his friend Franz Overbeck in a letter that his head was too full of other thoughts (thoughts that made him wonder why anything should matter to him). 

 

Having said that, however, there are Nietzsche scholars who argue that Nietzsche did very much like birthdays; not least because it was a time of gifts and of cake, but also because they signified the beginning of another year and the opportunity to make a fresh start. 

 

After his own mother apparently forgot his 44th birthday in 1888 - his last before his mental breakdown in January 1889 - he sent her a postcard humorously reprimanding her: The old mother has forgotten the old creature's birthday!  

 

This was that perfect day on which everything ripened and he told himself the story of his life ... [5] 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Heidegger doesn't do birthday greetings, but if he did, I'm sure he'd say something like this; it's a line from the late medieval text Der Ackermann aus Böhmen (c. 1400), by Johannes von Tepl, quoted in Sein und Zeit (1927).   

 

[2] And this equally amusing existential birthday greeting is by Jean-Paul Sartre, taken from his 1938 novel La Nausée.

 

[3] The same date as King Friedrich Wilhelm IV was born in 1795; a Prussian monarch very much admired by Nietzsche's father and after whom he was named. As Nietzsche would later write in Ecce Homo, this had one main advantage; throughout his childhood it was a day of public rejoicing. See section 3 of  Ecce Homo, 'Why I Am So Wise'. 

      Lest we forget, Michel Foucault, was also born on 15 October (1926); a philosopher who, by his own admission, tried "as far as possible, on a certain number of issues, to see with the help of Nietzsche's texts ..." 

      See Michel Foucault, 'The Return of Morality', trans John Johnston in Foucault Live (Interviews, 1961-1984), ed. by Sylvère Lotringer (Semiotext(e), 1996), pp. 465-73. The line quoted from is on p. 471. 

      And see also my post on being simply a Nietzschean à la Foucault, published on 14 August 2020: click here.

 

[4] The Nietzsche-Gedenkstätte: click here for details (in English).  

      This should not be confused with the Nietzsche-Haus in Sils Maria, Switzerland, where Nietzsche spent seven summers in the 1880s, and which is also now a museum (opened in 1960 and overseen by the Nietzsche House Sils-Maria Foundation): click here.

 

[5] Ecce Homo is the last original book written by Nietzsche before his death in 1900. It was written in late 1888, but not published until 1908. The book offers Nietzsche's own (self-mocking) interpretation of his work and his significance as a thinker.  

 

 

Reflections on Genocide in Fairyland

Stephen Alexander (1994) [1]

 

'It is time to speak of the fairies. In order to escape from the intrepid melancholy 

of expectation, it is time to create new worlds.' [2]

 

I. 

 

My friend Jennifer has written a fairy tale about a young woman and an enchanted fish. 

 

Reading it reminded me that, once upon a time, I too wrote a short collection of tales to which I gave the title Genocide in Fairyland ... 

 

 

II. 

 

Motivated by my deep green ecological concerns, my enthusiastic reading of Jack Zipes, and my love for the stories of Angela Carter - not to mention my abiding hatred of Disney - I decided, in the words of Borges, that it was time to speak of the fairies in order not simply to create new worlds of the imagination, but voice support for this world and the creatures that inhabit it. 

 

And so, I set about writing a collection of stories (numbering eight in all) and an introduction that began:

 

"Fairies symbolise the frailty of the flesh as well as the beauty and magic of the natural world. Their plight dramatises the struggle of peoples the world over to retain a traditional way of life when confronted by modernity (i.e., the world of money and machines). 

      Further, the destruction of Fairyland parallels the destruction of our own environment and our ability to dream and envision a different way of relating to one another and to the Earth."  

 

And concluded: 

 

"What I've attempted with this short collection of stories is not new; the fairy tale has long lent itself as a genre to those interested in political issues and philosophical concerns to do with identity, otherness, sexuality, interspecies relations, etc. 

      Unlike realist narratives that attempt to tell it as it is, or didactic moral fables that instruct us how it should be, folk and fairy tales, at their best - which is to say, at their most violent, most anarchic, most crude, and most comical - give a glimpse of how things might have been (once upon a time), or could possibly be (in a time to come that is already now/here)."

 

Genocide in Fairyland, then, was a book of dysfunctional creatures in a disenchanted land. Little people looking, just like the rest of us, to build up new little habitats and have new little hopes (no matter how many skies have fallen) [3].    

       

 

III.       

 

Unfortunately, I don't have copies of the eight stories (nor do I have the rejection letters from the handful of publishers I sent a proposal to) [4]. 

 

However, I do have short outlines of each tale that expose my thinking at the time and which I would like to share here:  

 

 

Come Not with Kisses 

 

A tale set in the land of the Great White Swan concerning a young princess's attempt to preserve an egg entrusted to her by a dying swan and which, she is told, contains the future. 

      Discovered by her swan-hating soon-to-be husband attending to the bird, the princess in a moment of panic hides the egg in the safest place she can think of, inserting it into her vagina. 

      Time passes: her wedding to Prince Renée goes ahead as planned, but all the while she thinks of the swan and his promise that he would one day return to her. Shortly after their honeymoon, she announces her pregnancy and he is delighted with the news. 

      However, he has a surpise awaiting him: 

 

"Won't it be strange, when the nurse brings the new

- born infant 

to the proud father, and shows its little, webbed 

greenish feet 

made to smite the waters behind it?" [5]

 

 

The Tower of Love 

 

We all know that, in the name of love, there was once a king who locked his only daugter in a tower without a door on the day she began to menstruate, so that she would never wed and be lost to him.

      The princess, however, had other ideas and let down her long hair, thereby allowing any passing stranger to climb up to her room in the tower, should he so please. 

      Less well known, however, was that in the fomer Soviet Union tales were told of a group of female inmates in a high security prison who, in order to be transferred to jails with less brutal conditions, would impregnate themselves with sperm obtained from the single male prisoner confined below. 

      Using a long piece of thread, they would lower a condom to him from their cell window and sing a song of encouragement as he jerked off into it. Once he had finished, they would then retrieve the condom and attempt to self-inseminate. 

      As the prison guards were deeply religious - despite years of communism - they regarded any pregnancies that resulted as miraculous events.  

 

Curdled Milk 

 

This is the story of a simple-minded giant accused of inappropriate conduct when playing with a group of children. What concerns here is exactly what concerned Michel Foucault with reference to the 1867 case of Charles Jouy in the village of Lapcourt, France:      

      

"The pettiness of it all; the fact that this everyday occurrence in the life of village sexuality, these inconsequential bucolic pleasures, could become [...] the object not only of collective intolerance but of a judicial action, a medical intervention, a careful clinical examination, and an entire theoretical elaboration." [6]

 

 

Home Sweet Home (Revenge of the Unhappy House-Spirit)

 

A house-spirit is a bit like a hob; very hairy, but fully clothed and a wee bit more human looking. Usually, a house-spirit will live on the top shelf above the stove, where it is nice and warm and he can enjoy the smell of the cooking. 

      In the middle of the night, long after the people of the house have retired to their beds, a house-spirit will clean and tidy up the kitchen and help himself to some milk and cheese. The house-spirit also regards child minding as one of his duties and the thing he likes to do above all else is to rock a baby in its cradle.   

      But where does a house-spirit fit into a fitted kitchen? Into a world of dish-washers and microwaves and baby monitors and disinfectants that kill 99.9% of all known germs? 

      The answer, of course, is that he doesn't. 

      Angry and plunged into depression, the house-spirit in this story decides to extract a terrible revenge upon the modern couple who have robbed his life of purpose and the tale develops into a tragic one involving domestic violence and cot-death.  

 

 

Night of the Moon-Beam Folk

 

This is the story of the moon-beam folk and their revenge upon modern city-dwellers, whom they blame for polluting the clean fresh air that they provide [7]. 

      As the latter sleep in their beds in rooms kept artificially warm in winter and artificially cool in summer, the moon-beam folk visit and weave a web of moon-beams across their faces, covering their mouths and nostrils, and thereby ensuring that they go on breathing the same stale air all night long and wake feeling drowsy and fatigued. 

      Aware of his own increasing lack-lustreness, Jack sets out to discover its cause. Medical science providing no satisfactory answer, he consults a gypsy woman from the old country, and it is she who tells him of the moon-beam folk and how he might appease them.               

 

 

Hob

 

Acculturation refers to the way in which one group of people is obliged by another group of people - usually dominant, but not necessarily superior - to assimilate and surrender their beliefs, habits, customs etc. Often this is done in the name of some grand ideal, such as material and moral progress,

      Loosely based on the story of the Yanomami - the so-called fierce people of the Amazon rainforest bordering Venezuela and Brazil - this is the tale of the Hob; a horrible, ungodly, unwashed, uneducated race of hairy little people living in the last great forest of Fairyland. 

         

     

When Jack Went Back Up the Beanstalk

 

The story of Jack - the poor boy who, with only a handful of beans, makes good by slaying a giant - is the quintessential English folk tale. 

      But surely it's wrong to steal and murder; even if one is stealing from and murdering a being regarded as a cannibalistic monster or ogre ...? And surely there are social consequences of rewarding such a youth as Jack - lazy, dishonest, violent - with wealth and celebrity ...?  

      In this tale, I pick up Jack's story several years after his initial adventure and reimagine what happened atop the beanstalk. 

 

 

Bait 

 

One of the more shameful methods employed by hunters to trap and kill wolves was to tie a female dog in heat to a tree in the forest and then wait for a male wolf to pick up her scent, locate her position, then mount her. Once inside the dog, and having ejaculated, the wolf's penis swells up and is gripped by the contracting muscles of the female dog's vagina (effectively acting as a plug to trap the semen). 

      This results in what is known as a copulatory bond (or breeding tie), locking the the two animals together for a period up to 30 minutes and, during this time, the hunter will come out from his hide and club the defenceless wolf to death.   

      With this in mind, here is my version of La Belle et la Bête, involving a cruel hunter who plans to use his own adolescent daughter as bait in order to trap and kill the Beast. Unfortunately for him, however, Beauty falls in love with the Beast after discovering that she rather enjoys his sexual embrace and so the two of them turn the tables on her father and it is he who falls victim to them.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Proposed design for book cover incorporating a black and white version of William Blake's frontispiece for Songs of Experience (1794).   

 

[2] Jorge Luis Borges with Margarita Guerrero, Book of Imaginary Beings, trans.  Norman Thomas di Giovanni (E.P. Dutton, 1969).

 

[3] The last line borrows from the famous opening passage to D. H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928) - a passage which may well have influenced my thinking more than any other passage in any other novel.    

 

[4] And nor, sadly, do I have the letter from Tony Juniper, then at Friends of the Earth, who agreed to write a foreword to the book, after I had promised that a percentage of any monies that it might make from sales would be donated to FoE and/or other green organisations and causes.  

 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Won't it be Strange -?, Pansies (Alfred A. Knopf Inc., 1929), p. 23. 

 

[6] Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality 1: The Will to Knowledge, trans. Robert Hurley (Pengun Books, 1998), p. 31. 

      Probably I would be a little more cautious about writing this tale today, in light of what we now know concerning Foucault and the sexual exploitation of minors. See the post dated 9 January 2021 in which I discuss this problematic issue with reference to Foucault and Gabriel Matzneff: click here. 

      And see the post of 11 June 2021 on child sexual abuse accomodation syndrome with reference to the case of Norman Douglas and Eric Wolton: click here.     

 

[7] A tale inspired by a scene in D. H. Lawrence's novella St. Mawr (1925); see p. 108 of the Cambridge University Press edition - published as St. Mawr and Other Stories - ed. Brian Finney (1983). 

 

 

In Defence of Diary Writing

Messrs. Stevenson and Wobble back in the day

 

 

I recently came across a book review by Jah Wobble which opens with the former PiL bass player expressing his suspicion of - and, indeed, his very evident scorn for - people who keep diaries: 

 

"If one is truly involved in events as they unfold, is there the time or inclination to take notes?" [1]

 

Wobble answers his own question by suggesting that diary keeping is the kind of anal activity that only those who seek to influence the future interpretation of events (often magnifying their own role in said events) engage in.   

 

There may, of course, be an element of truth in this. 

 

But it's not the whole story and as someone who kept a diary throughout the 1980s, I rather resent Wobble's sneering tone and his privileging of lived experience over the recording and retrospective analysis of events. 

 

For some of us - perhaps of a rather more philosophical predisposition than Mr Wobble - there is no distinction between writing and life. 

 

Journal keeping - or, indeed, blogging - is for us a vital form of scripting the self [2] and I prefer those like Nils Stevenson who creatively construct disparate truths about actual events, rather than those who, like Wobble, simply boast they were truly involved, but far too caught up in the excitement of the moment to reflect upon their own experience [3].  

 

Notes

 

[1] Review by Jah Wobble of Vacant: A Diary of the Punk Years 1976-79 by Nils Stevenson, with photos by Ray Stevenson (Thames and Hudson, 1999), in the Independent on Sunday (11th April, 1999). The review is archived on the PiL fansite Fodderstompf: click here.

 

[2] By this term I refer to a reflective and voluntary practice via which individuals are not only able to gain a degree of ethical self-understanding, but also to "change themselves in their singular being, and to make their life into an oeuvre that carries certain aesthetic values and meets certain stylistic criteria". 

      See Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality 2: The Use of Pleasure, trans. Robert Hurley (Penguin, 1992), pp. 10-11.

 

[3] It might be noted that Wobble did, in fact, publish his memoirs in 2009. A new and  expanded edition of this critically acclaimed work was published under the title Dark Luminosity: Memoirs of a Geezer by Faber & Faber in 2024. So maybe he was taking notes all along ...  

A Sprig of Holly: Notes on Gibbeting (with Reference to the Case of Tom Jenkyn)

Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827): A Gibbet (detail) 

Undated watercolor and ink on paper (36 x 27.5 cm)

Yale Center for British Art

 

 

I've discussed the topic of capital punishment in a previous post and mentioned that I live close to a notorious junction known as Gallows Corner, where they used to hang men in the old days [a]. 

 

I believe it was also the preferred practice to leave the bodies of those executed hanging in chains or fastened into an iron frame. And so that the public display might be prolonged, bodies were sometimes coated in tar and left until almost completely decomposed, after which the bones would be scattered. 

 

Known as gibbeting, this common law punishment was designed as a piece of violent theatre and a final humiliation intended to provide an additional deterrence measure, just in case the threat of hanging wasn't enough to prevent the heinous crime of murder. 

 

An ancient practice, gibbeting wasn't enshrined within English law until the Murder Act of 1751; an act which also included the provision that execution would take place two days after sentencing, unless the third day was a Sunday, in which case the condemned - and those who looked forward to seeing him swing - would have to wait until Monday morning [b].

 

The act also gave the judge passing sentence the power to turn the body of the condemned over to the medical profession for dissection and anatomical study, rather than hung in chains, which, I suppose, one might find a less shameful fate (although I suspect that, if given a choice, a hardened highwayman or pirate would reply like James Bond who when asked by a barman following a heavy loss at the poker table whether he wants his martini shaken or stirred says: Do I look like I give a damn? [c]  

 

 

II.

As a sensitive child, I was upset for days if I saw even a dead hedgehog by the roadside. 

 

So I'm fairly certain that the sight of a rotting human corpse on a gibbet might have been similarly distressing. Although, having said that, the reactions of children to scenes of horror can be complex - as Daphen du Maurier illustrates at the opening of her Gothic novel My Cousin Rachel (1951) ...

Reflecting on the time when, as a seven-year-old, he is taken by his much older cousin (and guardian), Ambrose, to view some poor wretch left hanging in chains where the four roads meet, Philip Ashley recalls:

"His face and body were blackened with tar for preservation. He hung there for five weeks before they cut him down, and it was the fourth week that I saw him. 

      He swung between earth and sky upon his gibbet, or, as my cousin Ambrose told me, betwixt heaven and hell. [...] Ambrose prodded at the body with his stick. I can see it now, moving with the wind like a weather-vane on a rusty pivot, a poor scarecrow of what had been a man. The rain had rotted his breeches, if not his body, and strips of worsted drooped from his swollen limbs like pulpy paper." [d]

 

Philip continues: 

 

"It was winter, and some passing joker had placed a sprig of holly in the torn vest for celebration. Somehow, at seven years old, that seemed to me the final outrage, but I said nothing." [1] [e]

Having walked round the gibbet so as to observe the horror from all sides, with Ambrose playfully poking and prodding the corpse with his stick, as if it were a funfair attraction provided for his amusement, Philip's cousin eventually attempts to put things into a philosophical context and provide a moral lesson:

 

"'There you are, Philip,' he said, 'it's what we all come to in the end. Some upon a battlefield, some in bed, others according to their destiny. There's no escape. You can't learn the lesson too young. But this is how a felon dies. A warning to you and me to lead the sober life.'" [2] 

Stopping short of condoning femicide, but cheerfully parading his sexism, Ambrose continues:

 

"'See what a moment of passion can bring upon a fellow [...] Here is Tom Jenkyn, honest and dull, except when he drank too much. It's true his wife was a scold, but that was no excuse to kill her. If we killed women for their tongues all men would be murderers.'" [2] 

Philip is disturbed to discover the dead man's identity and to realise that, in fact, he knew him. He wished Ambrose had not named him:

"Up to that moment the body had been a dead thing, without identity. It would come into my dreams, lifeless and horrible, I knew that very well from the first instant I had set my eyes upon the gibbet. Now it would have connection with reality, and with the man with watery eyes who sold lobsters on the town quay." [2]

When asked by Ambrose what he thinks, Philip attempts to disguise the fact that he felt "sick at heart, and terrified" [2]. And so he answers in an amusing and remarkably precocious manner for a child: "'Tom had a brighter face when I last saw him. [...] Now he isn't fresh enough to become bait for his own lobsters.'" [2] [f]

However, despite such witty bravado, Philip's actual squeamishness causes him to vomit before leaving the scene at Four Turnings: "I felt better afterwards, though my teeth chattered and I was very cold." [3] 

 

Perhaps in anger, Philip throws a stone at the lifeless body of Tom Jenkyn; though, as he ran off in search of Ambrose who had walked ahead, he felt ashamed of his action. So much so, that, eighteen years later, he is planning to seek out poor Tom in the afterlife in order to apologise. 

 

Until then, however, he asks the ghost of Tom Jenkyn to disturb him no more: "Go back into your shadows, Tom, and leave me some measure of peace. That gibbet has long since gone [g] and you with it. I threw a stone at you in ignorance. Forgive me." [3]

 

I don't know about Tom, the lobster salesman and wife killer, but I suspect most readers will almost certainly forgive such a childish indiscretion. 

 

Though whether they will be equally forgiving of Philip's treatment of Rachel - and there is no proof that she was guilty of anything, as Philip finds no concrete evidence to show she had a hand in the death of Ambrose, or that she was slowly poisoning him - is debatable ... [h]

 

 

Notes

 

[a] See the post dated 20 March 2019: click here.

 

[b] The act of 1751 also stipulated that under no circumstances should the body of a murderer be afforded a decent burial. The act was formally repealed in 1834, by which date the use of gibbeting was very much out of favour with both the public and the authorities; the last two men to be gibbeted in England had been executed two years prior. The socio-cultural reason for this move away from such violent and spectacular forms of punishment in favour of more subtle - more humanitarian - techniques is famously examined by Michel Foucault in Discipline and Punish (1975).

 

[c] I'm referring to a scene in Casino Royale (dir. Martin Campbell, 2006), starring Daniel Craig in his debut as James Bond. The joke, of course, is that usually Bond is very particular about how he likes his martini served (shaken, not stirred).  

 

[d] Daphne du Maurier, My Cousin Rachel (Virago Press, 2017), p. 1. Future page references to this edition will be given directly in the post.

      Interestingly, with adult hindsight, Philip has decided that Ambrose must have taken him to witness this horrific scene as a test of his character; "to see if I would  run away, or laugh, or cry" (p. 1). 

 

[e] It's arguable that the sprig of holly was not placed in mockery by some passing joker, but, rather, in a spirit of Christian charity and forgiveness; for holly is a sign of the eternal life that is promised to those who repent their sins and accept the love of Christ. 

 

[f] As a matter of fact, although lobsters are scavengers that feed on dead animals, live fish, small molluscs and other marine invertebrates, they are not known for eating human flesh.  

 

[g] Du Maurier doesn't reveal the year in which her novel unfolds, but if, as Philip informs us, the gibbet has long since gone and those accused of murder are now given a fair trial and, if subsequently convicted and sentenced to death, a decent burial, then it would certainly be set after 1834 (see note b above). 

      Roger Michell, the director and screenwriter of the 2017 cinematic adaptation of My Cousin Rachel starring Rachel Weisz and Sam Claflin, situates his film "somewhere in the 1840s (between Austen and Dickens: between canals and railways)", as he writes in an introduction to the 2017 Virago edition of du Maurier's book (p. vii).  

[h] Du Maurier is a mistress of ambiguity who loves supplying her books with narrators whose defining characteristic is their unreliability. And so we can never know for certain who's guilty of what and who's the real victim. At one time, I would've found that irritating: Not any more, though.  

A Brief History of Irish/Jewish Relations (With Reference to Current Events)

Larping for Palestine with the students of 

Trinity College Dublin

 

I.

 

I have previously written on the relationship of Irish Republicanism to National Socialism [1].

 

However, in light of the authorities at Trinity College Dublin agreeing to the demands of a hundred or so useful idiots amongst the student body to cut commercial ties with Israel because of the war in Gaza [2] - which, for want a better term, we might describe as a Judenboykott - I thought it might be interesting to take a further (brief) look at the history of Irish/Jewish relations. 

 

 

II. 

 

There have never been many Jews choosing to settle in Ireland. 

 

Nevertheless, the history of Jews on the Emerald Isle can be traced back over a thousand years; the Annals of Inisfallen [3] makes the earliest known reference to them, recording that when, in 1079, five Jews came from overseas bearing gifts they were quickly sent back - so much for the welcoming nature of the Irish (more of a modern than a medieval trait it seems). 

 

Despite this, by the early 13th-century there was a tiny Jewish community in Ireland, based in or near Dublin, though how settled they were (and what rights they had) at this time is uncertain. It's really only in the 16th-century that Jews became accepted into Irish society - though the first synagogue wasn't built until 1660, near Dublin Castle.   

 

During the late 19th-century there was an increase in Jewish immigration to Ireland, but in 1901 they still numbered less than 4,000 (up from around 450 twenty years earler). Again, most of these people resided in the capital where they established schools, shops, and synagogues and became prominent in business, education, and politics.  

 

Officially neutral during the Second World War, the political establishment of Ireland tended to be indifferent to the fate of European Jews, even if overt antisemitism was not widespread in Ireland. The Nazis - always planning ahead - had listed the 4,000 Jews of Ireland for future extermination. 

 

Perhaps not surprisingly, given this indifference - and the fact it had been made very difficult for Jews to gain refugee status in Ireland during and after the War [4] - the native Jewish population saw a significant decrease in numbers in 1948 after the establishment of Israel; many choosing to move there out of ideological and/or religious convictions. 

 

In subsequent decades, more Jews would also emigrate to Israel, the UK, and the US due to the decline of Jewish life in Ireland and for better economic prospects. According to the census of 2022, there are now around 2,200 Jews living in the Irish Republic (over half of whom are in Dublin). 

III.

 

Having said that overt antisemitism isn't (and never has been) a major problem in Ireland, that doesn't mean the Irish are entirely innocent with reference to this ...

 

Indeed, many of  Ireland's key political figures - including the founders of two major parties - were noted for their antisemitic speech and behavior [5] and even now there are delightful political figures including Réada Cronin, Chris Andrews, and Mick Wallace to contend with [6].  

 

And then there's the Church ...

 

Throughout the 20th-century, several leading figures in the Catholic Church have promoted antisemitic beliefs and attitudes, and a number of leading Catholic newspapers and journals carried what the historian Dermot Keogh termed "radical anti-Jewish articles" [7] - and by which he refers to really shocking stuff, that I really don't wish to reprint (or even discuss) here. 

 

 

IV.

 

In sum: it's not surprising that students at TCD seem to be not merely supportive of Palestine, but actively hostile to Israel; for it's a politico-religious prejudice that pre-dates the current war in Gaza [8], which started, let us remind ourselves, on 7 October 2023, when Hamas and several other terrorist groups launched a coordinated attack on southern Israel, killing over 1,100 people and taking some 250 hostages. 

 

I don't think the students are morally retarded, so much as misguided and naive concerning the dangers of what Foucault terms micro-fascism; of just how easy it is to slip from being pro-Palestinian to pro-Hamas and from being anti-Zionist or anti-Israeli to antisemitic. 

 

Foucault asks: "How does one keep from being fascist, even (especially) when one believes oneself to be a revolutionary militant?" [9]    

 

It's a crucial question and one which all activists indulging in the ugly politics of ethno-religious identity and victimhood should ask themselves: "How do we rid our speech and our acts, our hearts and our pleasures, of fascism?" [10] It's not easy. But I would suggest one might begin by refraining from the following three things:

 

(i) mindlessly chanting slogans and waving flags ... 

 

(ii) cosplaying in keffiyehs ... 

 

(iii) making raised fist gestures for the cameras.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] See the post entitled 'The Shamrock and the Swastika' (16 Feb 2020): click here.   

 

[2] In a statement, the university declared that Trinity College Dublin will "complete a divestment from investments in Israeli companies that have activities in the Occupied Palestinian Territory and [...] endeavour to divest from investments in other Israeli companies". See the report by Rory Carroll in The Guardian (8 May 2024): click here. 

 

[3] The Annals of Inisfallen are a chronicle of the medieval history of Ireland originally compiled c. 1092, but regularly updated by the monks of Inisfallen Abbey after this. It is housed in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. 

 

[4] In 1948, a Department of Justice official explained that it was the policy to restrict the admission of Jewish aliens, for the reason that any substantial increase in numbers might give rise to antisemitism. 

 

[5] Arthur Griffith, founder of Sinn Féin, subscribed to all the usual Jewish conspiracy theories, whilst Éamon de Valera, a founder of Fianna Fáil and one of Ireland's most significant statesmen, personally called on the representative of the Nazi German government to express his condolences for Hitler's death.

 

[6] Réada Cronin, a Sinn Féin TD from Kildare North, posted several antisemitic tweets, which included claims that Jews were responsible for European wars and that Mossad (the Israeli intelligence agency) was influencing British elections. After she apologised, Sinn Féin took no further action. 

      Chris Andrews, another Sinn Féin TD, liked posts on social media referring to Israelis as "murderous Zionist bastards". 

      Mick Wallace, an MEP, shared links to publications on social media suggesting that Jews control the media and were responsible for the 9/11 attacks. 

 

[7] Dermot Keogh, Jews in twentieth-century Ireland: refugees, anti-semitism and the Holocaust (Cork University Press, 1998), p. 92.

 

[8] See Manfred Gerstenfeld's review of Rory Miller's Ireland and the Palestine Question, 1948-2004, published as 'Ireland: A Country Hostile to Israel', in the Jewish Political Studies Review, Vol. 19, No. 1/2 (Spring 2007), pp. 188-191. The review can be found on JSTOR: click here. I would suggest relations between Ireland and Israel have not got any better during the last twenty years.

 

[9] Michel Foucault, Preface to Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-Oedipus, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane (University of Minnesota Press, 1983), p. xiil. 

 

[10] Ibid. 

 

 

For a related post to this one, please click here.