Showing posts with label Obedience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Obedience. Show all posts

Monday, 7 May 2012

Self-Assertion of an English Garden (After-Life Topoi of Nazi Desire) Chapter 7


1.     Il faut cultiver notre jardin   
2.     Pêcheurs de lune
3.     Iterability of the Nazi State (Economy of Genocide)
4.     Growth (and Form/Morphe)
5.     Decay
6.     Pompes Funèbres
6.1.  Type (Model, Example, Tupos)
6.2.  Usus Tyrannus (Interlude)
6.3.  The Ageing of a Note
7.      Critique of Beginnings
8.      Demonology of Defeat 




7.      Critique of Beginnings

“Daß es zu den bösen Häusern hinausgehen muß, sieht man ja gleich im Anfang.” (“That it must go out to the bad houses, one sees that right in the beginning.”), Goethe

Oikos versus Polis

What does Heidegger then mean when he speaks of the “abyss of self-being” (Abgrund des Selbstseins)?  How does that co-exist (in the sense of falling away from being) with “self-assertion” (Selbstbehauptung)?  ‘Form of life’ for Agamben in Means without Ends is something, which ‘shields’ life from its bareness, its abandonment to sovereignty.  Not as in Esposito – for whom the form of life, which is community, is itself the site of my abandonment.

The emptiness of ‘my’ is not only linguistic alienation, it is linguistic nihilism.  Because language is paradigmatically a form of life, a relation into which I render my lack and there where community disappropriates me from myself through its rules – its acts of speech – I lose myself to the community in every act of speech.  Nostalgia is my longing for the nameless, speechless.
The political is not the extraordinary – it is the ordinary per se.  The political is the form of the common – how can one have a politics of the not-common (uncommon)?  The exceptional is in the “excess of common sense” – a superabundance of the ordinary, which leads to madness (according to Derrida in The Politics of Friendship).  Referring to Carl Schmitt’s The Concept of the Political he explains: “We are simply formalizing a principle of ruin or spectrality at the heart of this discourse on the political, a discourse of madness allied to an excess of common sense.” (Jacques Derrida, The Politics of Friendship, London/New York, 2005, p. 130)  

Fascism/Nazism lie precisely in this realm of the “excess of common sense”.  The by now commonplace definition of fascism which sees in it an ‘aestheticization of the political’ or ‘the political as a work of art’ has thereby immediately relegated the aesthetic to the same region of ‘common sense’.  [“(…) L’esthétisation de la politique, c’est-à-dire la politique comme religion artistique (ce qui est une définition possible du fascisme): “the aestheticization of the political, that is to say the political as an artistic religion (this is a possible definition of fascism)”, Alain Badiou, De la dialectique négative dans sa connexion à un certain bilan du Wagner, 1° partie, January 2005, online)].

More generally, any logical-historical contiguity between politics and a transcendent ‘non-political’ (art, thought) will invariably collapse into or “end in politics” – a quasi-axiom captured in the title of Lacoue-Labarthe’s essay on Heidegger’s “Rektoratsrede” (Inaugural Address) – “Transcendence Ends in Politics”.  Politics is the power of the common (the will to the common) over all singular or collective human action and substance. (One could also substitute - the same - for common.)  Politics is also the domain of the standard, the norm, of the average thus predictable quotidian interest.  What does the aestheticization – even more the artistic religion of the average look like?  Or is fascism (and its non-identical cousin Nazism) the way the average looks at itself ‘aesthetically’ as not average?

Hegel interprets Sophocles’ play Antigone in Phenomenology of Spirit as the demise of the ‘sittliche Substanz’ (moral substance) of the family and its suppression by the universality (Allgemeinheit) of the state.  His interpretation reveals that in both ‘blood universality’ and ‘formal universality’ the singular (das Einzelne) is ‘unreal’ (unwirklich). The “Unreality” (Unwirklichkeit) of the singular is perhaps the hidden continuity of the two formations.  Antigone is not just the abandoned figure of the demise of the family – its ‘moral substance’ (as the principle of collective life) was founded in the tragic history of a particular family – that of Oedipus and his multiple ‘family crimes’ – patricide and incest with his mother Jocasta.  Antigone is the fruit of this incestuous union.  Her tragic fate is also an example of the Greek view of how crime is bequeathed and its effects visited upon the subsequent generations of a family.  (Herodotus writes in his History how the crime of Gyges is still punished in the fourth generation in the figure of Croesus).  The drama of Antigone shows both the acting out of the ‘fate’ of Oedipus in the next generation and the historical surpassing of the rule of blood in itself.  Antigone is “unreal” because her fate is predetermined by the circumstances of her birth – her relation to ‘blood’.  In the family of Oedipus the “universality of blood” was not just sacrificed to the new formal universality, the epochal change embodied in the ascendant state – the Oedipal family was also condemned to fulfil a curse, one of those unprovoked divine judgements acted before any transgression.  (In Buddhist cosmology such a curse would be seen as punishment for crimes in a former life, not just a preceding generation.)  Doom is twofold.  Blood carries out its own immanent History, synonymous with tragedy, directly.  Memory is immediately genetic, and as such History – of blood.  Oddly Hegel does not refer to the particular history of Antigone and her family – he describes her simply as a representative of the old higher ‘divine’ law – the law of the community, the clan and its funeral rites – abandoned and surpassed by the new law of an impersonal ‘universality’ (Allgemeinheit).  The Greek tragedy though shows the extinction of a royal family, which has transgressed not just the laws of the appearing state – but also the laws of the family – of blood – they are guilty of violating the incest taboo and the interdict against murder of kin.
The immediate prehistory of the play – merely emphasizes the inexorable self-destruction of this incestuous family molecule – the two brothers (sons of Oedipus and Jocasta) have killed one another in a war of succession.  Creon deems one dead brother, Eteocles as a legitimate successor – the other dead brother Polynices is the ‘outlaw’ – and Antigone’s loyalty to the outlaw is the reason for her own death sentence.  Creon’s declaring of one branch of the transgressive family as legitimate for no particular reason – is sheer expediency.  The unity of law and hegemony must be preserved – the ‘bad blood’ of the family buried, but posthumously surviving in the new legitimacy of the state.  Hegel seems to say as much – the “dead spirit” (“dieser gestorbene Geist”) is incorporated (aufgehoben) in the new universal body and its constituent atoms – suggesting that new formations of spirit (institutions of state and law) are the afterlife of the old ones, come to gloss over and profit from the unbearable corruption of the deceased spirit – the dead ancestor. 
“The universal is splittered into the atoms of absolutely multiple individuals; this spirit, having died, is an equality in which all count for as much as each and each and all count as legal persons.”(G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, Pinkard translation, PDF online, p. 431)
[“Das Allgemeine, in die Atome der absolut vielen Individuen zersplittert, dieser gestorbene Geist ist eine Gleichheit, worin Alle als Jede, als Personen gelten. -”, (G.W.F. Hegel, Phänomenologie des Geistes, Frankfurt, 1976, p. 355)]

The old dead blood speaks through the new law.

Antigone possesses more raison d’état than Creon, a rather inept legislator and administrator of the new state – she is instinctively moved to bury the transgressive fratricidal body of the incest clan – to end the spectacle of its putrefaction on the plain outside the city walls of Thebes.  The sight of the physical remains of the old ruling power becoming carrion, visible for all, is a danger for the new power.  Creon is a divided figure of transition – burying just one brother properly, refusing to bury the other one, and then burying Antigone alive who wises to correct his error of omission - the complete burial of the dead ‘spirit’ of the defunct royal family.

It is the ‘cunning of spirit’ – that the metamorphosed dead spirit of blood – in itself hermetic, exclusive and unequal – should be transformed into an equality of atomic parts – where all is everyman – and this everyman is the legal person.  The legal person is the fundamental concept of the law – it supplants the biological singular – the unreal splitter of the clan based on blood ties.  Hegel considers civil law and the concept of the legal person, the empty mask, the creation of Rome.  The Nazi entity regressed historically in the Hegelian sense of a dialectical movement of spirit – but to a fiction of an archaic race unity and purity – formal universality was forcibly reconverted into the universality of blood – not of a clan or a dynasty but of a race-state, a super-clan – in which every race-man is a formally equal race-atom.  In the inverted logic of the terra incognita of Nazi ‘legality’ - what appears historically as a regression was conceived at the time as a forward movement in a “shoreless sea”.  Even if the ‘new’ “juridical concepts” were “indeterminate” – the former jurisprudence based on an abstract formal universality (according to Hegel the higher stage of spirit) was seen as “the way backward”:
“The entire application of law thus lies between Scylla and Charybdis.  The way forward seems to condemn us to a shoreless sea and to move us ever farther from the firm ground of juridical certainty and adherence to the law, which at the same time is still the ground of the judges’ independence.  Yet the way backward, which leads toward the formalistic superstition of law which was recognized as senseless and superseded long ago, is not worthy of consideration.”
(Carl Schmitt, State, Movement, People, Hamburg, 1933, cited in Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer, ibid., p. 172).

The Nazi race-state was a non-universal universality – an ‘inoperative’ hybrid of community, formal determinations of race (as opposed to familial blood ties) and state police power.  Thus the legal form of the person derived from Roman civil law was no longer valid in Nazi jurisprudence – a biological race person (the full mask - the ‘biopolitical’ substitute for the legal person) was invented in its stead (Carl Schmitt’s “equality of stock”).  

State of exception means the exceptional state of the ordinary – the exceptional form of the law –, which is the same as the exceptional form of the rule. The exception is not simply enacted in the present by a singular contingent ruler – it is inscribed in the dead yet undying spirit of ancestral succession, its birth from the cadaver of the preceding form (vaguely similar to the way parasitic flies lay eggs in “zombie bees”, emerging as larvae from the entrails of the dead bee).  The law is not a consistent object utterly opposed to ‘the exception’ – the law is ‘indeterminate’ - fabricated from exceptions or precedence accruing over unaccountable (immeasurable) time to rules or so-called laws.  The universal fact that judges and other legal personnel must interpret laws based on always-incomplete data (evidence) shows that law is dependent on ‘mood’ and contingency – law is in itself a permanent state of exception.  There is nothing exact about the law, despite its underlying principle or myth of ‘equality’.  This state of inexactitude and unknowability is normal.
“Law is the Ur-phenomenon of irrational rationality.”, as Adorno writes in Negative Dialectic.  There is no external guarantee of the law.
Law is the model of any hermeneutics – in which “Truth is the proof of itself” (Badiou). 
If politics (the political) is in a certain sense what is ‘common’ in human society/intercourse (koinonia) – law intersects the common where it verges on the exceptional.    

The law though would be nothing without obedience.  What is the origin of obedience – it is hardly a naturally occurring phenomenon? Obedience is the epitome of “second nature” – of a process of domestication.  Obedience transcends the distinction between animal and human – Wittgenstein frequently refers to obedience in the context of “abrichten” (training of dogs).  The following of a rule is thus not specifically human. A dog or a horse (the main domesticated animals) obeys in the same way as a human obeys.  Although – domestication, the concept of rule and its application are human objectifications coeval with language. 

Obedience is the law of the oikos – the origin of despotism, inequality and the division of labour is the family, the household.  The names rex, pater, dominus, anax, basileus etc., honorifics that establish rank and servitude, originate in the family.  The Greek polis was the liberation from the oikos, the realm of necessity dictated by the needs of mere survival or self-preservation.  

The polis is the realm of freedom from such necessity and from the rule of others, hence a society of equals, Marx’s Reich der Freiheit (kingdom of freedom); the sheer prolongation of life was the purpose of the oikos –the oikos is the Reich der Notwendigkeit (kingdom of necessity), slavery.  Otanes, one of the seven Persian conspirators against the Magian usurper of the Persian throne in 6th century B.C.E. represented the Greek ideal of isonomia (equality) as the best form of government for Persia.  He is unable to convince his fellow conspirators, amongst them Darius, the future king, but wins the right “neither to rule nor be ruled”.  Herodotus who reports this story (The History, Book 3.80-83) is reflecting the Greek view that inequality was the absence of freedom.  (see H. Arendt, “The Polis and the Household” in The Human Condition, Chicago, 1998, pp. 28-38). 

Babeuf’s “Societé des Égaux”, besides rendering homage to Rousseau, imitated the idea of the society of equals in the polis.  In choosing this name they identify with a bios politikos beyond the necessity of labour – a realm of freedom not the mere reproduction of their lives as the working class.

Typical of Heidegger’s falsifying of Greek concepts (and his misappropriating of the Greek idea of what is public or political), his so-called Führer-polis is a contradiction in terms if not nonsensical. The Nazi polis envisioned by Heidegger was to have been founded on the strictest “Rang und Ordnung” (rank and order). Heidegger installs the structure of obedience and command – the rank – within Sein itself.  The national social form he envisions as most suitable to Being – is if anything a Führer-oikos, not a polis.

In the Greek polis or bios politikos – the second elevated life – equality is the sole order – but the oikos, its opposite “was the center of strictest inequality” (The Human Condition, ibid., p. 32).  The bourgeois concept of freedom (an Englishman’s home is his castle) – still reflects the Greek idion or private sphere where only the household master was free – the rest (including intruders) were subject to his supreme jurisdiction and all to the necessities of life.  Unlike bourgeois society though where nothing exists beyond the oikos (society is merely the greater oikia), above the Greek oikos was the koinon or collective, – the site of bios politikos – the society of free equals. (Beyond that still was the life of contemplation.)  Greek political life or bios politikos was the reverse of the double servitude to the contingencies of survival and to an absolute household ruler – but naturally presupposed their existence. 

Paradoxically - as opposed to Greek antiquity when the oikos was a law unto itself – so that children could be sold into slavery etc – in the age of the private, the universal oikos of bourgeois civil society and government, this dungeon of privacy is opened to public scrutiny of law and social agencies.
  
The modality of being of Heidegger’s community or collective hierarchical Dasein called Mitsein (Being-with), supplanting Care (Sorge) in the order of importance, is Work of the “Worker” in the Ernst Jünger sense of the figure (Gestalt) of ‘substantial’ hegemony, the militant of the command “Work-State”.  Although the prevalence of terms denoting ‘dwelling’ and ‘house’ and ‘inhabiting’ (habitation), ‘gathering’ show that Heidegger’s true reference is always the domestic setting – in other words again oikia.  “Dwelling” is the pivot of one of Heidegger’s favourite quotations from Hölderlin, cited in Letter on Humanism: “Full of merit, yet poetically, man/ Dwells on this earth.”

Another mystery of the reception of Heidegger’s thought – is that he is seen as the philosopher of the ‘nothing’ and of its correlate time – of the subject as the ‘thrown’ nothingness of time (a thought much more proper to Hegel); Being in Heidegger absolutely swallows the dynamic self-positing, self-negating movement of Hegel’s “Spirit” or “Self-Consciousness”.  Even “nihilating” (das Nichtende) is only in Being – and only because thinking thinks Being, does it think the nothing. He anticipates this critique – striking out pre-emptively at the “absolute idealism of Hegel and Schelling” – whose absolute subject is “unconditioned will that wills itself and does so as the will of knowledge and of love” – a willing in which Being as “will to power is still concealed”. (Martin Heidegger, Letter on Humanism, translated by Frank A. Capuzzi, in Pathmarks, 1949, PDF online, p. 273)

Obviously here Heidegger has abandoned his own discourse of power and will, which still thrilled him in “Nietzsches Wort “Gott ist tot”” (“Nietzsche’s Word “God is Dead””, 1943) and in the Rektoratsrede (1934).  The passing reference to Hegel’s and Schelling’s ‘disrespect’ for Being seems almost a bitter self-quotation. Absolute subjectivity’s unconditioned willing still hides Being captured by the siren “will to power”.  But why ‘still’?  Is Heidegger identifying with Hegel and Schelling as if with his other earlier self – and saying here I am still enthralled by “will to power” and not yet in thrall directly to “Being”?  Is this passage an ‘esoteric writing’ concealing within his ‘critique’ of “will to power” a veiled reprise, a nostalgic adieu to the euphoria of that “great beginning”?  Then he was moved to declare in the name of the German Nazi University and its ‘militant body of teachers and pupils’ (“the will of knowledge and love”) - that they were the will that willed themselves:
“We do will ourselves.  For the young strength of the people, which already reaches beyond us, has by now decided the matter.” (Martin Heidegger, The Self-Assertion of the German University and The Rectorate 1933/1934: Facts and Thoughts, Review of Metaphysics, 38:3 (1985:Mar.) p. 480)

Now (1947) in the sober present of the Letter on Humanism– any act whether of affirmation or negation (the ‘yes’ or the ‘no’) belongs apriori to Being.  Dasein is properly will-less – dependent and obedient (hörig), in thrall to Sein (Being). 
As compensation for this surrender of all power to Being – Dasein like any minion of a feudal order – receives ‘protection’ or Hut against the vicissitudes of fate from its feudal lord Being.
Heidegger’s prose is littered with images of “hold” (Halt) and residing – nowhere more than in connection with Being.  Being and “humankinds” (Menschentümer) literally share the same house – it is language. So that in Letter on Humanism in which Heidegger indulges in an obsessive density of such ‘homey’ metaphors, one finds:
“Wesentlicher als alle Aufstellung von Regeln ist, daß der Mensch zum Aufenthalt in die Wahrheit des Seins findet.  Erst dieser Aufenthalt gewährt die Erfahrung des Haltbaren.  Den Halt für alles Verhalten verschenkt die Wahrheit des Seins.  “Halt” bedeutet in unserer Sprache die “Hut”.  Das Sein ist die Hut, die den Menschen in seinem ek-sistenten Wesen dergestalt zu ihrer Wahrheit behütet, daß sie die Eksistenz in der Sprache behaust.  Darum ist die Sprache zumal das Haus des Seins und die Behausung des Menschenwesens.  Nur weil die Sprache die Behausung des Wesens des Menschen ist, können die geschichtlichen Menschentümer und Menschen in ihrer Sprache nicht zuhause sein, (...).” (“More essential than instituting rules is that human beings find the way to their abode in the truth of being.  This abode first yields the experience of something we can hold on to.  The truth of being offers a hold for all conduct.  “Hold” in our language means protective “heed”.  Being is the protective heed that holds the human being in his ek-sistent essence to the truth of such protective heed – in such a way that it houses ek-sistence in language.  Especially since language is the house of being, it is the dwelling of human essence.  Only because language is the dwelling of the essence of the human being can historical humankinds and human beings not be at home in their language, (…).”
Martin Heidegger, Brief über den Humanismus, Frankfurt 1947, p. 45; Letter on Humanism, ibid., p.274 ) 
As if Being were a quasi divine benevolent mater and ‘householder’ (Haushälterin – also means ‘housekeeper’ in German) – who looks after Dasein/Mitsein’s ‘dwelling’ while he/they/we are away, distracted by our human historical machinations (Machenschaften), estranged from our proper dwelling in the language of Being.
Far from being ‘thrown’ and abandoned in its finitude, Dasein is held under the forced protection (“Hut”) of Sein (Being) – Being will always usher Dasein back ‘home’ to its ‘abode in truth’ – like the pastoralist driving the herd back into their stalls.  

[Commentary: In Sein und Zeit the mode of “Un-zuhause” – the not-at-homeness of Dasein has almost the opposite valence.  Not-at-homeness was the proper mode of Dasein’s naked “thrownness” – whereas Being-in-the-world/Being-with in the They was “seductive, calming and alienated”.  These continual shifts in Heidegger’s termini, within one text and historically, make it difficult for his apologists to decide if he is the philosopher of the “cum”, the being-with, community, the interworld or of the “nothingness” and nowhere-ness of singular Dasein’s foundation.]

For Heidegger – in the wake of Ernst Jünger’s Der Arbeiter – technology becomes another such protected dwelling - a habitation of Being.  It is no longer a separate technique (techne) or a specific kind of thinking one might call instrumental – for Heidegger/Jünger technology is the re-forming or re-shaping of Being through the type/figure of the Worker.  That is why Heidegger says – the essence of technology is not technological.  Technology is the totum – not just a part in which quantification and calculable processes dominate.  The chapter title in Ernst Jünger’s Der Arbeiter - “Technik als Mobilisierung der Welt durch die Gestalt des Arbeiters” (“Technology as the Mobilisation of the World through the Figure of the Worker”), reveals this fusion or union of the type of the worker, technology as a synonym for Being and the movement called ‘mobilisation of the world’.  Language then is also Technology – presaging Heidegger’s language as the ‘house of being”, Ernst Jünger specifies: “Technik in diesem Sinne ist die Beherrschung der Sprache, die im Arbeitsraume gültig ist.  Diese Sprache ist nicht weniger bedeutend, nicht weniger tief als jede andere, da sie nicht nur Grammatik, sondern auch Metaphysik besitzt.  In diesem Zusammenhang spielt die Maschine eine ebenso sekundäre Rolle wie der Mensch, sie ist nur eines der Organe, durch die diese Sprache gesprochen wird.” [“Technology in this sense is the mastering of the language, which is valid in the work space.  This language is not less significant, not less deep, than any other, because it possesses not only grammar but also metaphysics.  In this context the machine plays as much a secondary role as the human, it (the machine) is only one of the organs through which this language is spoken.”, Ernst Jünger, Der Arbeiter Herrschaft und Gestalt, (first published in 1932), Stuttgart, 1982 pp. 155-156] 

Jean Luc Nancy continues in this Jünger vein, when he praises Heidegger’s utterances on technology, which echo its elevation to the rank of a ‘dwelling’ and a “sending of being”. “(…) To “inhabit” technology, or to “welcome” it, would be nothing other than inhabiting and welcoming the finitude of sense.” (Jean-Luc Nancy, “A Finite Thinking” in A Finite Thinking, Stanford, 2003, p. 25) 

Technology has become for this Heideggerian strain – the oikos of being.






A Type of Nazi Desire

In the promiscuous commingling of Oedipus and the Worker, juxtaposed in the briefest of texts by Lacoue-Labarthe entitled “Oedipus as Figure” – one senses something of the potency of the afterlife of ‘Nazi desire’.  There are two main figures of humanity – says Lacoue-Labarthe – Oedipus of course – this is desire or the unconscious - and The Worker – a nameless figure – but its name manqué is that of its ‘author’ named as Ernst Jünger.  The Worker is actually also a name for desire in its impersonal form of pure energy – figured or figural energy, the Nazi atom – to be expended in the construction of the total state and its new form of ‘subjected’ power.  If Oedipus is energy as unconscious desire – the Worker is energy as conscious obedience.  Obedience is nothing less than a certain receptivity to the new language of command adequate to the worker and the new form of domination.  The secret of the language of command is that it never promises, it only demands – that the worker recognize his ‘deepest happiness’ in being sacrificed (Jünger, ibid. p. 74).  The command has the form of pointing the worker towards the desired and desirable sacrifice.
The Fascist/Nazi golem particle of Worker-Energy and libidinal Desire is spawned prismatically in Lacoue-Labarthe’s sketch – their juxtaposition, forced “kinship”, acts almost like a rebus, disclosing the ‘Nazi desire’ of the text itself.  The text becomes the ground of the incestuous cross-sexualizing of the figure of The Worker and the figure of Oedipus.
The worker is sheer embodied energy for the Work-State – but without ‘desiring man’ (Oedipus) such energy of ‘working man’ would self-abort.  Towering above both is “Ge-stell” – the being or essence of technology.  Work and the Worker is the seam (mediation) between Being and the Nazi State – “energy that is applied and put to work.” (“Oedipus as Figure”, Lecture at Brown University, 1983, PDF, online, p. 1)  Finally the Worker is tantalized with the subjectivity of poiesis then deprived of any – the worker is the inhuman in human form – a “mode of Ge-stell.” (frame) (ibid.).  “The figure or Gestalt of the Worker is understood by Heidegger as being one of the modes in which the essence of technology is deployed, or in other words one of the modes of Ge-stell.  The word designates the unity of coming together of all modes of Stellen, ‘formulating’ or ‘(re)presenting’ in general, from Vorstellung to Gestalt.  It therefore designates being in its last envoi.” (ibid., p. 2)   
In this pithy form one sees how Lacoue-Labarthe moves smoothly from Jünger’s The Worker to Heidegger’s “Ge-stell” – whereby Ge-stell is another term for the “essence of technology” or sometimes just “danger”; the ouroboros who masterfully swallows all with the final jaws of Being (“in its last envoi”).


Worship of Fields

Ancient Roman religion began as worship of fields and hearths and progressed to the worship of the State, the immaterial field.  The worship of the State, from an evolutionary point of view (elemental forms of religion), is an agricultural cult of the fallow heart. 

Dressed as a crow I went out to the flat fields.  The ones with the open view and the naked masts.  Where the train crosses in the emptiness and one can see beyond the vineyards on the other side of the river.  Under the train tracks.  The curved passageway (like the entrance to a caravanserai) under the red brick arch of the railroad bridge echoes my footsteps.  A flat dry echo.  The bridge is on the edge of the hut-like dwellings forming the last row of ‘Fortress Longbourne’ on either side of which are some pump and power stations made of clusters of similar brick one story structures surrounded by a series of high prickly fences.  Those living next to them can also claim in potential real estate agency advertisements that they are ‘surrounded by fields’.  The dirt road beyond the railroad bridge passageway has so many tracks in it one doesn’t know which of them is really the footpath.  I lose my bearings.  There are no landmarks or rather there are only landmarks.  The field is one great landmark.  I guess vaguely where the river is – white in colour at this time of year and in the late afternoon.  But I think I’m closer to the Longbourne Meadows than I really am.  They are inestimably sadder than the cow fields on the other side.  Longbourne is as addicted to sadness as anywhere in Africa especially during flood time.  A metal bar gate is lying on its side where I decide to cross the black waterway almost hidden from view.  A field can be very lugubrious, like a desert, no perceptible changes, a so-called wasteland even though the river is still associated with pleasure boats and summer promenades – what the locals call ‘messing around in boats’.  I knew the fields would affect me in this way and they did.  The houses on stilts on the other side of the river with their mirrored impervious doors and sides – one should expect no quarter.  Further back on the other side are truncated views of houses, no lights, no movement.  So close to the Longbourne hurly-burly.  One could imagine guests and relatives behind those walls consigned to cots, set up in ramshackle stalls, awaiting their conversion for the last fifty years.  A field can be as much an oubliette as a hole deep in the ground.  All the more a house surrounded by fields on all sides.  On the other hand the wrong eyes can easily discover it.  If it has a clock tower that’s for the lookout, besides that it needs a palisade.  I told my acquaintance who lives amidst fields and is looking for a new house amidst other fields, that I am more inspired by people and passing (moving) things especially in the dark than fields.  This is the proof.  Sometimes it is too late to part.  That’s much worse.  Besides I’m not a horse.  The picture of their barn gave me the feeling the field grew right up to the eaves both inside and outside.  The house stood in a cold shadow, possibly facing the north winds – but then the winds come in at 360°.  The luminous parts were the unconverted stalls.  They planned to turn them into a concert venue.  The grass grew crooked like dense rows of green rickety picket fences.  The house was set in the fields as in green aspic.  (The word aspic comes from asp – comparing the colour of the jelly to the colour of the snake on Cleopatra’s bosom) – the quivering snaky grass of the field besets the house from all angles.  Living in a field one can learn to loathe the colour green.  The mud clutches each foot as you set it down and holds it in its mouth each time you pull it out again, kicking the earth away as if it were some animal tugging you in the wrong direction.  If hermits had been really penitent, they would have lived in fields and not in caves like St Benedict. Is there a ‘natural redemption’ to correspond with ‘natural evil’?

One familiar sight, the white iron latticework bridge is enough to calm me down, although still far from it, close to it in the line of vision.  The swans are a rectangular solid group looking like a low plaster mantelpiece and as such suggesting a beckoning hearth.  Even if no fire was burning.  Such mirages of domesticity are dangerous when in fields.  The vague islands in the middle of the river – more like stumps of riverbank strayed out or away from the side – interrupt the stippled solid looking river.  For some not yet identified reason, the white square mansion and its weeping willows on the opposite side of the river near the bridge do not arouse in me feelings of desolation although equally dark, lifeless and ponderous.  I even sit on a bench for a while regarding the big white house and its trees and black windows as one would a painting in the National Gallery.


Racial Impurity

How hard to remember from one planting season to the next.  We transplanted the big semi-double-blossomed rugosa rose (Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’) from the Gallica rose bed to the ‘meadow’ on the wattle hurdle last autumn.  Now I can’t remember where it is exactly.  A big rugosa is standing in front of the wattle hurdle – but looking like a hybrid of two plants.  The pale hairy stems of the rugosa have smooth thinner branches of a red brown colour – as if from a Rosa canina (dog rose) with numerous dried out hips – just like a dog rose would have.  Next to this double plant is a straight up-and-down rugosa with some buds and foliage spouting at the very bottom, from the base.  It stands closer to the boundary of the former or so-called sucker field – almost within it.  So most likely it is one of those many wildly growing suckers of the long vanished rugosa – a relic of the much-noted presence of the erstwhile owner of this house and garden, Godwin Baynes, the Jungian psychoanalyst with his distinctly horticultural theories of schizophrenia. For Baynes ‘grafting’ or the nursery method of mounting a desired rose on top of a vigorous crude fast growing stock was the model of the psychotic will energizing the civilized persona.  The new hybridic creature next to the ordinary sucker is much more ‘Baynesianesque’ alias ‘psychotic’ – it appears to have been created by a subterranean takeover of the newly transplanted Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’ by the wild dog roses that have always been in the earth around that spot.  The dog rose grafted itself onto the white rugosa – de-purifying the stock.  It saw the new rose merely as an opportune pedestal for its own wild growth. The ‘moment’ on the rose shoot where the hairy stem of the exquisite cultivated Rosa ‘Blanche Double de Coubert’ smoothes upward into the thin tawny coloured stem of the ordinary Rosa canina already sprouting its ordinary leaves, but still showing some of the original bristles of the higher rose cultivar below poignantly seems to demonstrate – given the chance, nature and “second nature” will always undo civilisation and revert to some kind of lower form of Ur-species. This is what happens (more or less) in Baynes’ theory of psychosis.

The presence of Baynes and the other man who was briefly the Baynes’ house guest, D H Lawrence is most strong in the garden. I don’t really think they are in the house at all. They stick to the land. The garden on its western boundary is overrun by a rugosa alba rose which is only a field of suckers. The original rose, if there ever was one, has disappeared. I don’t remember the suckers being there in the beginning of our time - but they have gradually taken over the most fertile sunny spot although quite marshy. We have just started planting the sucker meadow with other equally strong growers. The rose isn’t ugly - it blossoms one single rose at a time throughout the summer. The rose smells very sweet. But it isn’t one of Shelley’s ‘sensitive plants’. Unfortunately it has succeeded in killing off most of the beautiful Spanish lavender planted amongst it. Along the same side as the sucker field under the old privet hedge we discovered a bottomless narrow opening (too small for a human and too big for an animal). Beneath the best and largest apple tree on the other side is a square of grass distinctly marked by 4 long mossy stones sunk into the earth. When one steps into the square the earth inside sags like an old roof and is much spongier and weaker than anywhere else around it. What unknown caryatids stand in this upright grave? Too tired to carry the load anymore.

Baynes liked to think of himself as a ‘nursery man’. His father Helton Baynes had been a timber merchant and a devout Puritan in the “Home Counties”. He suffered from agoraphobia. Actually Baynes Senior chose the house we are living in, a good solid house until this day. The garden is an old orchard. We still have plums and apples from it as they did when Baynes and family lived here. Baynes wasn’t really a naturalist, although his whole theory of the schizophrenic personality relies on a wrong analogy of grafting. Grafts are the artificial means of propagating plant merchandise - by attaching the desired plant (scion) to a crude but vigorous root stock. This is the common old procedure especially for roses and ornamental trees such as the contorted hazel and for fruit trees. The enemy of the nursery man says Baynes is the ‘sucker’. A wild growth coming up out of the old root stock. One has to be brutal as a plant businessman and rip it out at the source. Baynes mixes up these suckers and other naturally occurring suckers of certain types of shrubs and trees. “The all too familiar suckers in the rose-garden are the attempt of nature to counteract too much culture by a reversion to type.” (H. G. Baynes, Mythology of the Soul A Research into the Unconscious from Schizophrenic Dreams and Drawings, London, 1940, p. 400) Our orchard is full of plum and rose suckers - merely identical seedlings of the original. Baynes describes that archaic ‘shadow’ underneath the civilized personality as the ‘sucker’, sapping the strength of the persona or ‘mask’.
The sucker is the ‘reversion to type’, essentially different or even ‘horrific’.
“The sucker is the ‘shadow’ of the rose” writes Baynes on page 400. Maybe the memory of the Nijinsky ballet Le Spectre de la Rose winged through his mind as he wrote this one and only axiom of his homegrown vampire botany. In Baynes-Jungian terms the ‘shadow’ is the archaic or psychotic will feeding on and eventually devouring the civilized persona.

Baynes’ thinking is based on simple muscular reflexes. He cannot think genetically of unforeseeable morphologies. He thinks instinct is always to be trusted. His vampire science does not apply when the ‘graft hybrids’ of two genetically dissimilar tissues occur in the cells genetically and spontaneously as in the case of plant ‘chimera’ or animal ‘mosaics’ (also called mutations).
There is no type to which such a mutation can revert.
Nature doesn’t look back. The unnatural doesn’t either. Mutations are the only hope against deadlocks in the natural or unnatural world. A vampire is never so instinctually hermetic that it won’t eventually generate its own genetically superior vampire-chimera with new undying instincts.

Of course, I often fall asleep at my table during the day and when one is asleep is when the vampires come and suck on you but only at night.
I prefer to think we are our own vampire like Baudelaire’s “Le Vampire” - even if delivered of the curse we would go on resuscitating the cadaver of our own chimera with our own ‘kiss of life’.

The orchard is a green vampire.
The oldest apple tree in the orchard seems to have gone to sleep for good. The dynasty withers tree by tree. The old apple tree is a mysterious skeleton covered by phosphorescent scale - still beguiling maybe more. The dark carcass sparkles indefinitely. The mood is insatiable. We have had to plant many other plants since coming to this orchard, the more plants we put in this earth the less rooted we become.





Unscientific Postscript

Baynes made his pilgrimage to Berchtesgaden some time in the thirties – viewing the endlessly frenzied building site of Obersalzberg at firsthand, Hitler’s personal mountain kingdom.  He may have even been privileged to have had a personal tour of Hitler’s teahouse “Adlerhorst” in the mountains – Baynes refers to the “Eagle’s Eyrie on the summit of the Obersalzberg” in his book entitled Germany Possessed.  “He is proud to show this place and to receive his distinguished diplomatic visitors there.” (H.G. Baynes, Germany Possessed, London, 1941, p. 61)  (Baynes died in 1943.)  Hermann Rauschning, the Nazi defector, favoured his book with an introduction.  Baynes assimilates English Jungian folklore to the figure of the ‘possessed shamanistic mad Hitler’ who is said by Rauschning to regularly foam at the mouth, quake from terrifying visions, and turn purple during his fits of rage.  How could Baynes the curious Englishman resist that temptation?  I avoid reading that book as best I can – something moved me to break my own rules.  I immediately felt that it had been exerting its influence on me – even unread.  Why else would I have mentioned the teahouse in the mountains or Hitler’s excessive love of Mehlspeisen – considered an effeminate trait by Baynes?  Or Wu Wei?  Baynes in his final chapter “Factors Governing Morale” compares the British “instinctual way” with the inscrutably reserved “acting—non-acting” practised by the Chinese sages.  This he contrasts with the Jungian type ‘Wotan possession’ he predictably discovers in the German.  Legends of sleeping emperors in their lairs with their beards wrapped around the table legs  abound.       


Les Natchez

The difference between the palace and the hut is sometimes very small – the distance quite close.  The directors in Kafka’s The Castle are possessed by nostalgia for the lowliness of the villagers.  Does sovereignty have nostalgia for community?  Although Derrida considers sovereignty able to play in all keys and registers – the very high and the very low, great and small – always potent, whatever the scale – “What counts is the more, the economy of the more, (…) the smaller able to be more powerful or even larger than the largest: another logical effect of the law according to which, remember what Nietzsche says about it, the weaker can be stronger than the stronger ⎯ and that’s the whole of history.” (Jacques Derrida, The Beast and the Sovereign Volume I, (Chicago, 2009), PDF, online p. 259)

Is impotency greater than potency under certain circumstances?

Ludwig II of Bavaria often preferred the company of his servants, grooms and peasants to that of courtiers.  Perhaps he liked their company too well – as their gossip formed the damning evidence in the case for declaring him mad and deposing him.  Proust’s Monsieur de Charlus surrounded himself later on in life with apprentices, delivery boys and shop assistants who had to pretend to be vicious dissolute criminals while performing their paid acts of cruelty upon him.  They were never vicious enough for his taste. But then again, they weren’t really apaches – they were just bad actors.  Or perhaps Charlus was a bad audience of his own supplices. This nostalgia of the high for the low and abject is even visible in monumental and grandiose architecture.  The pyramid temples of the Aztecs are merely huts elevated to an enormous height on top of inordinately large step pyramids.

Two photographs are on two facing pages of a travel essay on the Mississippi which I opened at random possessed of vague thought – just glancing from one to the other, the slender columns of the portico along the front of a plantation mansion, appear to be an imitation of the white narrow trunks of a row of eucalyptus trees in front of the hut on stilts of a Bayou swamp inhabitant.  The swamp dwelling and the late 18th century plantation house are in Natchez and its surroundings.  In the 18th century Natchez was still known as the name of the Indian tribe living in that part of the Mississippi Valley.  The old Chateaubriand corrected the manuscript of his youth entitled Les Natchez – miraculously restored to him after being lost for thirty years. René, the disillusioned exiled hero, philosophizes in Rousseauist style with very wise Indians from the tribe of Natchez.     


The Thirty Tyrants

The thirty tyrants are the ones who come before the “Schluß-Tyrann” (“End-Tyrant”, Nietzsche).  The “Last Man” is a tyrant.  Call him a ‘Katechon’.  Tyrannosaurus rex.





Obedience

Blumenberg in Derridaesque fashion examines the contract of substitution between humans and the divine legislator.  Human sacrifice is transformed in the cult or religion into the offering up in its stead of absolute obedience – obedience being itself a sacrifice of one’s freedom – at least in part.  Not the rule implies or dictates obedience, but the exception, which does not take place – the absent human sacrifice.  Obedience and not the rule is at the origin of law.  The waiving of the demand for human sacrifice is paid for with absolute obedience – or humans ‘reward’ the deity for desisting from this demand.  In the commandment the suspended law of human sacrifice is ever present – as the Ur-form of all law or commandments.  The Decalogue (ten commandments) is a reflexive covenant – “thou shalt not kill” – is God speaking to himself and to his creatures.  The Ten Commandments enshrine this substitution of absolute obedience for human sacrifice – for they represent the pact of absolute obedience – they must be obeyed – not for themselves but in fulfilment of the divine contract.
“The place of the offering up of human life is taken by the offering up of absolute obedience, both in the history of the patriarchs, as a prelude to the giving of the Law in the Sinai and to Paul’s concept of faith, and of the Spartan state myth.” (Hans Blumenberg, “After the Absolutism of Reality” Work on Myth, Cambridge, 1985, p. 20)

The clerico-legal exchange of sacrifice for obedience though seems to undo a view of ‘the human condition’ as work, labour or action (Arendt).  It also undermines the idealist-materialist concept of subjective sensual activity, the fabrication of self and the world in its ‘objecthood’.
The absolutely obedient subject aspires itself to ‘objecthood’ - the perfect submission of inert matter.  So is Simone Weil’s interpretation of Paul’s Christological doctrine of obedience – the imitation of Christ is at the same time the attaining of passivity resembling that of inert matter for which Christ on the cross is the model.

Obedience is a form of inaction or action with suspended will. 
Arendt ranks action, as the political sphere of human activity, higher than work.  Action differs from work in at least one sense – it is impossible to both abstain from work and work – but possible to abstain from action and act.  Seen in this light – is abstract labour – action or even labour (considered as the quintessential human praxis)?  Abstract labour is not a category of philosophical anthropology – based on ‘homo faber’.  Abstract labour is a mere derivative of the law of value – no human qualities are manifested in abstract labour.  The praxis Marx refers to in the Feuerbach Theses – the sensual activity proper to the human species – has nothing to do with abstract labour.  Nor is it a process – it is only a quantitative result, the source of value in the capitalist production process – calculable only a posteriori.  Abstract labour is a component or attribute of capital – not of the human species or species-being.  One could equally say that humans have an organ for breeding money biologically.  Or that money is one of the senses – sensible and intelligible. 
         
But what about the ‘defeatist object’ – the one that falls apart – is that also obedience?  In essence there is no such thing as an inert mass.
But besides that, Weil’s claim that inert matter is a model of obedience is false – obedience cannot originate in inert matter – without resisting, it obeys nothing - resists any use.  If used, then without its own obedience.  Obedience can only be of a willed individual or body whose will has been subjugated, formed, harnessed to the desires of another, ‘broken’ – as in the relation between “Führung und Gefolgschaft” (leaders and followers) envisioned by Heidegger in the “Self-Assertion of the German University”. The newly inaugurated rector Heidegger is the “geistige Führung” (spiritual leader), student and teacher bodies are the followers (Gefolgschaft).  Together they form what in Heidegger’s formula of Sein und Zeit he calls the “kämpfende Nachfolge” (militant discipleship).  No rupture occurs between Dasein’s militancy/politics in the world as such – the foundation of militancy/politics itself – and Dasein’s militancy as ‘scientific Da-sein’ in the German university of 1933.

Although this relation of obedience of “Führung und Gefolgschaft” is reflexive and conditioned in a manifold sense – it is in particular ‘grounded’ in the essence of the German university.  But beyond that and immanent thereto – this essence can not achieve clarity, rank and power if the leader is also not himself led by the unrelenting spiritual “Auftrag” (task, mission, order) forced by the fate of the German people in the stamp (Gepräge) of its history.  The energy, which this body would have expended (wasted) for its own desires, must be redirected or transformed into the obedience/will for another who could also be the self.
Obedience then is a kind of ‘decision’ not to ‘decide’ for ‘oneself’ but for the other to whom one has leased one’s will.  In Derrida’s complicated world/matrix of substitution of self and absolute other – such heteronomy underlies the structure of any decision.  There is in essence no ‘free’ decision – just as there is no autonomous subject.  Hence obedience constitutes the structure of the decision – or the decision is the suspended norm of obedience.  As he writes in The Politics of Friendship – in spirit and tone not far from Blumenberg’s idea of absolute obedience: 
“But should one imagine, for all that, a ‘passive’ decision, as it were, without freedom (...) it signifies in me the other who decides and rends.  The passive decision, condition of the event, is always in me, structurally, another event, a rending decision as the decision of the other.  Of the absolute other in me, the other as the absolute that decides on me in me.” (Jacques Derrida, The Politics of Friendship, London/New York, 2005, p. 68)
Using friendship or even love as a model, Derrida smuggles in a radical form of ‘voluntary servitude’ or unrelenting obedience to the ‘other in me’ under the guise/cloak of the ‘decision’.  The ‘warmth’ of love (though not sex) – its ancient reputation of having the nature of turning the lover into what he loves – softens Derrida’s defence of absolute obedience to the norm i.e. law.  ‘I’ do not obey the law; ‘I’ become the law, which obeys itself in me.  Oddly, this is also a model of absolute thus solipsistic dictatorship.
Although he is reflecting Schmitt’s friend/enemy distinction as the origin of ‘the political’ and ‘sovereignty’ – the ‘self-asserted’ obedience at work in the ‘passive decision’ is closest to Heidegger’s Auftrag (mission) of the “Rektoratsrede” – the ‘passive decision’ of the other in me is comparable to Being (equals History/Fate) giving of itself in me to itself as the ubiquitous or absolute other in me.  Such a non-decision undermines Schmitt’s more ‘classic’ (juridical) notion of sovereignty. 
(Although how exactly Derrida’s theories of radical and absolute alterity sit inside Heidegger’s “Being-With” (Mitsein) which allows for no kind of alterity – is still something of a trade secret.)

The subject is only the passive (inert) terrain where these ‘gift’ transactions or transfusions of Being with itself take place.

Like Heidegger, Derrida attempts to present absolute submissiveness (to the norm) or loss of self as some sort of higher form of rebellion:  “Absolutely singular in principle, according to its most traditional concept, the decision is not only always exceptional, it makes an exception for/of me.  In me.  I decide, I make up my mind in all sovereignty – this would mean: the other than myself, the me as other and other than myself, he makes or I make an exception of the same.  This normal exception, the supposed norm of all decision, exonerates from no responsibility.  Responsible for myself before the other, I am first of all and also responsible for the other before the other.  This heteronomy, which is undoubtedly rebellious against the decisionist conception of sovereignty or of the exception (Schmitt), does not contradict it; it opens autonomy on to itself, (…).  It matches the decision to the gift, if there is one, as the other’s gift.” (The Politics of Friendship, ibid., pp. 68-69)  The ‘gift’ in any case is only Being’s gift to itself in me qua other.   

Obedience is a form of hypnosis.  The university gathers this transcendent forcing (forcage) in itself as its self-asserted dwelling.  

At this very moment of the public ‘suturing’ of Heidegger’s “fundamental ontology” to Nazism in the “Rektoratsrede” – Heidegger asks at the beginning of his speech if Dasein is ready to bear the stamp of the German fate?  Or even more tenuous – does the essence of the German university have the “strength to stamp our being (Dasein)”?  He is not in doubt – but only if the “body of student and teachers” truly will this essence.  Dasein requires a supplement of sorts – the true willing of an essence outside of Dasein – in the German university.  But why does he pose such a question?  And then presume to answer it?  Is it because Dasein is actually not an entity infused ‘naturally’ with the impulses of ‘struggle’, will or power? Is Heidegger summoning Dasein in his words, magically calling it to be prepared for its ‘spiritual mission’?

But Dasein is mutating in keeping with the greatness of the beginning or “Aufbruch” Heidegger seeks to manifest, expose (enact) and create in his Rektoratsrede.  Significantly Lacoue-Labarthe sees this ‘beginning’ also as the moment in which the fundamental ontology ‘collapses’ and fails. (“Transcendence Ends in Politics”, ibid., p. 297)  But this inaugural speech taking place in the first year of the Nazi reign is especially precious for Heidegger – because it is a ‘beginning’.  The beginnings are always with us he says in Beiträge zur Philosophie (Vom Ereignis).  More than endings?  In the Rektoratsrede Heidegger asserts a most vehement beginning not just for the university and its bodies – but for Dasein überhaupt.  “Only if we again place ourselves under the power of the beginning of our spiritual-historical being (Dasein).” (“The Self-Assertion of the German University”, ibid. p.  471)  In keeping with Heidegger’s idiosyncratic and absurd identification of the German people with the ancient Greeks – this beginning (Aufbruch) is not the Nazi Machtergreifung – but the bursting forth (Aufbruch) of Greek philosophy.  Emmanuel Faye speaks thus of the absolute identity in Heidegger’s ‘world’ of metaphysics (Greek philosophy) and the calendar of Nazism. 

The state, for Heidegger although ‘total’ and ‘essential’ recedes behind what really counts for him – self-assertion of Dasein.  “Das Wesentliche des Daseins ist Selbstbehauptung.” (“The essential of Dasein is self-assertion.”, Heidegger, “Hegel, On the State”, winter 1934-1935, cited in  Faye, ibid., p. 392)
Self-assertion is the mode in which the ‘polis’, the body of self-assertion protects itself – meaning the historical existence of a people, a clan, a stock.  This act of self-assertion is one of survival, self-preservation of the enclosure – “enclosing wall, house, earth, gods.”  Starting from the polis Heidegger ends irresistibly in the pre-state reproductive oikos – the greater womblike hearth of the clan.  “It is from this starting point”, he says, “that the essence of the political is to be grasped.” (Faye, ibid., p. 237)  
Metaphysics is ‘overcome’ and made real (realised) in the historical moment of the German people – in its spiritual-historical mission; though – only when it places itself under the auspices of its ‘Greek’ beginning.  The beginning is – and all there is – is the beginning.  For Heidegger in effect there is never anything but a beginning – the beginning (of Greek philosophy) and of the other uncertain beginning of the German struggle, its “danger”, its spiritual-historical essence in its State – the inauguration of the Nazi period.  As he will also say in Introduction to Metaphysics – the beginning is what is greatest.  It is also a beginning, which is waiting in the future – it has ‘invaded’ the future, ‘we’ (the German university and people) have to catch up with it – live up to its greatness.  In a backwards-looking prophetic rhetoric – Heidegger predicts a return to a beginning of the Third Reich – to a beginning, which had only just begun. And yet he compares the situation of the German university to a preparation for battle – as if the outcome were not yet known – but whatever it will be, it cannot be left to chance:  “We choose the knowing battle of those who question and profess with Carl von Clausewitz: “I take leave of the frivolous hope of salvation by the hand of accident.” (“The Self-Assertion of the German University”, ibid., p. 479)  Such calculating hubris to assume that any enterprise could succeed without the graces of Fortuna, Tyche or kairos is neither Greek nor Roman, but descends from Amalek.

In the concept of history Heidegger presents in his Rektoratsrede – the history of the historical-spiritual German Volk – the only future he envisions is the repetition of a beginning.  He can see neither a beyond nor an ‘exit strategy’ from this fateful beginning.
The beginning of Greek or western philosophy and the beginning of the Third Reich are one and the same, according to Heidegger – it is one beginning which prolongs itself incessantly.  In this extended indefinitely elastic beginning western man who is the same as German man – stands up to the “totality of what is”. 
At the very point in his speech when one would expect the eruption of vita activa – Heidegger seems to retreat adeptly not ‘under the shadow of his sword’ but into the shelter of Greek vita contemplativa qua activa.  Here as in the speech as a whole – a fungibility of philosophy and the still unnamed historical-spiritual mission is presupposed.  

Heidegger’s emphasis on the beginning in his inaugural speech – also a beginning – shows that his speech is not ‘political’ in a sense of being external to his philosophy – but that his concept of the political ‘bursting forth’ of the Nazi entity is in a strict sense determined/filtered by his philosophy.  Heidegger gives Nazism the best place in his philosophy – the place of the beginning.
Heidegger’s perspective is always the origin, the beginning – this is how he distinguished himself from Cassirer in Davos 1929 – Cassirer having the perspective of progressive liberation through symbolic forms (science, language, myth), lacked a clear ‘terminus a quo’ or starting point.  For Heidegger the starting point is the concern of his whole philosophy.
Herkunft ist Zukunft (the origin is the future).  Terminus a quo.  In the beginning is Being.
“My position is the reverse: The terminus a quo is my central problematic, the one I develop.  For me this occurs not in the whole of Philosophy of Culture, but in the question of τι το ον, or rather: what in general is called Being?” ( “Davos”, 202/GA 3, 288 cited in Vida Pavesich, “Hans Blumenberg’s Philosophical Anthropology After Heidegger and Cassirer”, Journal of the History of Philosophy, vol. 46, no. 3 (2008) 421-448), p. 423) 

Arendt rescued this idea of beginning for her general theory of action governed by her concept of ‘natality’ – every action is a birth, something begins – action gives birth to itself as action.  But a birth or beginning of what?  Only more action.  Certainly not inaction?  Such a beginning would only push itself up against a wall of itself.  What about the finish?  Jean-Luc Nancy commented in a seminar on “Sovereignty and Finitude” at Birkbeck in London in 2005, that Hitler was a ‘finish’.  Does he mean “finish” in the sense of model or type?  The model comes at the end – it is not originary.  It is not an ancestor/origin – an antediluvian beginning from which exemplars descend.  Hitler was the “finish” as a model, which in its completeness exhausts its own series of one.  The Führer-mule.  A finish in the form of an ‘un-birthing’.  For Nancy he was a ‘finish’, whereas for Heidegger he was a beginning.  Was Hitler the ‘finish’ of Heidegger’s philosophy?
Nancy is ever concerned with finitude – as opposed to beginnings …  If Hitler is a ‘finish’ – then without him something would have been missing? 
Although somewhat paradoxically - the urge or trajectory of such thought is from finitude to infinitude – the move from the economic to the ‘political’ mimics a progression or ‘opening’ of finitude to infinitude.  The political is prima philosophia in this kind of philosophy of finitude – in its being the finite vehicle of infinitude – in itself metaphysical or a ‘sensual-supernatural thing’ (sinnlich-übersinnlich), just as the commodity is for Marx.  Why does ‘the political’ enjoy such a privileged status for Nancy?  Is it not because that this is the rank Heidegger granted it in that era of ‘the beginning’? 

In his lecture course of the winter 1933-34 as the militant “Rektor-Führer” he presents “the urgent task of our era” as the restoring of politics to its proper rank in Being above all others; politics is Being, the highest – self-assertion is the mode of Dasein, but politics is the mode of Sein. “(…) teaching to see it (politics) once again as the fundamental character of the philosophizing man in history, and as that being (Sein) in which the state develops, so that it (politics) can truly be called the mode of being of a people.” (“On the Essence and Concepts of Nature, History, and State”, cited in Faye, ibid., p 117)  “Politics” (Politik) as Being (Sein) fuses, ‘gathers’ or reigns over the finitude of “philosophizing man” and the infinitude of Being qua state – but only in the becoming of the Nazi Führer-state as the mode of being (Seinsart) of the German Volk.
Hitler puts the finishing touches on Nancy’s concept of sovereignty.  To finish means to have an orgasm.  Does Nancy ‘finish’ with Hitler? “(On peut dire le sens fini, à la condition de penser que finir c’est jouir.)” [“(We can say the finite sense, on the condition of thinking that finishing is delighting.”) Jean-Luc Nancy, Corpus, New York, 2008, pp. 118-119].

But there also has to be a will to this finitude or finishing.  It is quite the opposite of deferring or deferment.  The finish is that which is contingent (free) and necessary at the same time.  Can one ‘decide’ to finish more or less than one can ‘decide’ to begin?
Without the will to finitude it would be impossible to complete any work.   The concept of finishing loses its meaning without the will to finitude.  A thing (object) cannot exist without finitude – or is there an infinite thing?  A situation which is infinite – every situation is according to Badiou – is far less than a situation which is finite.  If all possibilities are included, none are – because all possibilities include also the negation of all possibilities.  A finite number of possibilities is the precondition for any one possibility.  The artistic work is possessed by a will to finitude – to see itself completed – at the same time it is the will to deplete or defeat the artist.


Some Provisional Axioms of ‘The Political’

Axiom 1: Political Ontology since Heidegger is a Nazi science – because first in Heidegger’s Nazism being and the (thought of the) political have become one.
Axiom 1a: Political Ontology is the situation (site) of the fusion of Sein (Being) und Politik (politics); where Nazi Sein and the political are joined.
Axiom 1b: Political Ontology is not a teaching.  It is an action of Being.
Axiom 1c:  Since Heidegger Political Ontology is Nazism’s mask, surrogate (straw man) and discreet account for the forbidden (as in a Swiss bank) – because since Heidegger Politics and Being (Metaphysics) are One.
Axiom 1d: In Political Ontology Nazism hides in the open.
Axiom 1e: In Political Ontology Nazism is always ready-to-hand (even when it is broken).
Axiom 1f: Political Ontology is Nazism’s readiness-to-hand.
Axiom 1g:  In Political Ontology (the category of political being) Nazism is indifferent to itself, disinterested in itself.  Its relation to itself is adiaphoric.


Dasein of Mass

Axiom 2:  In Heidegger’s ontology the mass mistakes/misjudges (verkennt) itself as chosen originary Dasein – that asserts its value/validity prior to any thought.   
Axiom 2a: The mass engages in a self-deluding critique of ‘massification’ – each time it succumbs to the hollowness of “mine”.  It splits itself off from itself as mass to be ‘reborn’ as Dasein/Sein/Existenz – where it seeks refuge from itself.  Greater than the hollowness of “mine” is the hollowness of “ours”.
Axiom 2.a.1.  The massness of Heidegger is reflected in the semblance of indispensability crowning his philosophy as if with a halo – its popularity is the circumscribed mass itself, applauding itself within its limits.
Axiom 2.a.2  The secret (Heidegger) is to speak of the mass without ever naming it – Jemeinigkeit (“In Each Case Mine”). 
Axiom 2b:  Dasein is the annihilated/maimed subject metamorphosed into its generic deformation.  Thus for Badiou the generic and his theory of the subject are so tightly allied to his ontology.  Here he continues the Heidegger program.  Dasein or the generic is a particle bereft of force.  How should the congregation of these voided particles in the mass engender a new force (multitude)?  Homo sacer is the legalist-biologistic template of the same voided construct Dasein – so-called ‘nullity’.     
Axiom 2c:  Ontology is the return of idealism, of identity philosophy under the guise of a hypostatized generic existence, of the reified singular.
Axiom 3:  Any system based on an average or norm can hardly be said to be dynamic – it constantly aims to rest at a plateau – the average or norm.  Its irresistible striving is to move from unrest to rest – more a dialectic of stagnation than a dynamic tendency.
Axiom 4:  The essence of hope is not hopeful in the sense of Heidegger’s assertion about technology – its essence is not technological.  One could extend this formula indefinitely.  All it indicates is that a thing or its quiddity, its essence cannot be a linguistic property of itself.
Although a contrary view is that of Novalis, who says, the performance of mathematics must be mathematical.  If not – a dubious hiatus arises between form and content.


Monday, 23 April 2012

Self-Assertion of an English Garden (After-Life Topoi of Nazi Desire) Chapter 5


1.     Il faut cultiver notre jardin   
2.     Pêcheurs de lune
3.     Iterability of the Nazi State (Economy of Genocide)
4.     Growth (and Form/Morphe)
5.     Decay
6.     Pompes Funèbres
6.1.  Type (Model, Example, Tupos)
6.2.  Usus Tyrannus (Interlude)
6.3.  The Ageing of a Note
7.      Critique of Beginnings
8.      Demonology of Defeat 





5.      Decay


The defeatist object

Why is there annihilation and not just decay?  Why is there decay and not just annihilation?
Axiom of conditions: The one grand narrative never to die is the grand narrative of decay, what Adorno calls the logic of decay, (die Logik des Zerfalls), decline, and entropy.  Any Badiouist ‘event’ or ‘progress’ (he only assumes such events) is to be seen under the ‘condition’ of the conditions – decay.  These events are like the flaring up of embers in a dying yet undying fire.

In the summer of 20…  I began to think about aesthetics (that sounds like much more than it was – how could one ever think about the aesthetic, when the aesthetic is the form of one’s thoughts, of the Real/reality, of all that which appears?) but via detours in a very roundabout way (never to be found out or followed again) I arrived at this conclusion: “The aesthetic arises where the resistance of the pre-aesthetic amorphous object crumbles, breaks apart, decays.  Where the object becomes defeatist – there it starts to become aesthetic.” (yellow stage notebook)  Did not the Renaissance masters advise their pupils to study the stains on the walls, to examine the shadows – improvising compositions from the negligible and the amorphous?  One Renaissance painter boasted that he evolved his sacred paintings from the pattern of spittle and vomit.  Such a master, if he were to have seen vomit on an art book (as in Polanski’s film Carnage) – would have just painted the vomit on the page.  Chaos theory has its roots in decay.  Somehow the intuition that art comes only when “a moment of life has grown old” (Guy Debord) shows that art (like philosophy) is by nature a décadence.   It always arrives too late.  Art cannot come ‘in the beginning’ despite Heidegger. “The greatness of art begins to appear only at the dusk of life.” (Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, Detroit, 2005, §188)  
 
This thought became irrevocably associated with another idée fixe, that the theory of what is real tends to evolve into an aesthetic, as the groundless ground of philosophy – thus evicting ontology from this ground alias void.  Quite simply, ontology does not permit the thought of decay or the distortion/alteration of being in the direction of the aesthetic.  In Badiouist-Heideggerian terms, it is not possible to submit the thought of the aesthetic to the thought of being (or circle of being which is: being sending thought to and from being to itself; being bouncing off being).
If everything is art (appearance, semblance) – then the only theory (philosophy) of reality is aesthetics.  To be real, one must seize matters in modus aestheticus.

June 20... : “Die Literatur hat immer etwas unzeitgemäßes, anachronistisches an sich.  Vielleicht weil in der Sprache am besten gefasst werden kann, was schon verendet ist – abgestorbene Gefühle, vergangenes Glück, verlorene Jahre, abgelegte Ideen oder aufgegebene Posten.  So wie Sie schreiben in Die Pfirsichtöter, man berausche sich vielmehr an der Erzählung des Mahls als an dem Mahl selbst.  Andererseits, kann die Sprache das Giftpotential der Wirklichkeit nachträglich steigern – wie Sie von O. berichten: “Er hatte gehört, daß jemand an einem Wort gestorben sei, und als er “mein Pfirsichbaum” sagte, krümmte er seinen Rücken.” (Alfred Kolleritsch, Die Pfirsichtöter)”
(“Literature always has something anachronistic, untimely about it.  Perhaps because in language what one can best express is what has already ceased – extinguished feelings, lost years, discarded ideas or deserted posts.  As you write in The Peach Killers, one intoxicates oneself more on the story of a feast than the feast itself.  On the other hand, language can retroactively elevate/heighten the toxic potential of reality – as you report of O. – “He had heard that someone had died from a word, and as he said “my peach tree” he arched his back.” (The Peach Killers).”)

Balzac advised pragmatically – a novel should be set just beyond recent memory – yet still within living memory, approximately 60 years ago. Afterlife drama is eternal and ever present – hence excluded from this limitation.

Heidegger expressly confirms the impossible cohabitation of the aesthetic – deformation/decay of the object – and being.  It shimmers through his commentary on the mystical verse of Angelus Silesius “Ohne Warum” (The Rose is without Why).  The original verse sees the mystical rose “blooming, because (weil) it blooms (…)” (“blühet, weil sie blühet (…)”) leading Heidegger to use it as an allegory of Being and Dasein needing no other reason (Grund) but itself and its own duration. (The German word weil means both - because and a duration, a while.)  But could one imagine the verse radiating this pathos of Being if it were changed to say “Die Ros ist ohn warum, sie verblühet, weil sie verblühet,/ Sie acht’ nicht ihrer selbst, fragt nicht ob man sie siehet.”? (“The rose is without why, it withers, when it withers,/ It pays no attention to itself, asks not if one sees it.”)  If one substitutes blooming for its natural opposite – withering – neither the 17th century mystic Silesius nor Heidegger would have used this image of the rose as a mystical symbol of the immortal soul alias Being.  Even in his prosaic explanation of the mystic’s poem, Heidegger cannot bring himself to speak of anything but “blooming”: “Obviously the rose here stands as an example for all blooming things, for all plants and all growth. (…) Everyday experience speaks for the necessity of the grounds of growth and blooming.” (Martin Heidegger, The Principle of Reason, (Der Satz vom Grund) Indiana University Press, 1991, p. 36)  If blooming and growth are perpetual, never abating – where and when then is ‘finitude’?  Withering is certainly greater than blooming – because it contains it as its prior state.  Withering is the entelechic completion of blooming – just as blooming is its precondition.  The rose blooms it withering and withers its blooming.
Besides, even if the rose does not ask why it blooms, it might conceivably ask why it withers.

As usual Heidegger turns to the Greeks for ready assurances – Being (Sein) for the Greeks means “constancy” (Ständigkeit) – rank, standing-in-itself (Das In-sich-stehen) as coming into being in the sense of standing (Stand).  If this constancy which is also a rank or standing is not constantly surpassed, then decay settles in.  This means – decay can never belong to being, it is impossible for ontology to conceive the decay of being – thus being (Sein) can never become aesthetic.  “Denn auch dann, wenn ein Zeitalter sich noch bemüht, das überkommene Niveau and die Ranghöhe seines Daseins nur zu halten, sinkt schon das Niveau.” (“Even if an epoch attempts merely to preserve the niveau/level and rank its Dasein has inherited, the niveau/level already sinks.”, Martin Heidegger, Einführung in die Metaphysik, Tübingen, 1998, p. 48)  Being trickles out of beings – or into beings.  Whatever has been caught in the trajectory of decay is automatically no longer Being - and cannot be Being again.  “Das Seiende wird nur dadurch im Schein seiner Ständigkeit gehalten, dass es zum “Gegenstand” für die endlose und wechselvolle Betriebsamkeit gemacht wird.”  (“Whatever constancy (Ständigkeit – a synonym for Being sm) such ephemeral beings exhibit – it is only that – a semblance, held in place by it serving as the “object” for endless diverse activity.”, ibid.) 

Could this “object” be something like, border on a defeatist one?

Almost the same thought reappears in the text “Nietzsches Wort “Gott ist tot””, published nine years later in 1943.  With the essential difference – in the 1935 seminar Einführung in die Metaphysik there is no mention of power or will to power – the “inherited niveau” is an objective given, separate from any actions either to achieve or sustain it.  It can only be sustained – not even augmented – if the ‘epoch’ “creatively surpasses” its level constantly.  This ‘creative surpassing’ becomes in the Nietzsche text – an act of will to power and the augmenting of power.  If power is not persistently expanded, it too like the “niveau”, now called “the power-step” (Machtstufe) immediately begins to sink.  But in the second text Heidegger involves the will – lifted from his interpretation of Nietzsche’s “will to power” – to designate the active part in the aggregation of power.  In the first text “niveau” or “rank” can be regarded as an objective measure or criterion of excellence or some sort of superiority – without giving it a name or means to attain it.  The “power-step” or “power escalation” driven by the will to power contains within it both the substance (power) of the escalation and the activity (will), which promotes it.  But the tempo is direr than in the earlier text – the sheer “holding of breath” (Innehalten) in the escalation of power, the mere remaining/stopping on a given power-step is already the beginning of the sinking of power. 
“Schon das bloße Innehalten in der Machtsteigerung, schon das bloße Stehenbleiben auf einer Machtstufe ist der Beginn des Sinkens der Macht.” (Martin Heidegger, “Nietzsches Wort “Gott ist tot””, Holzwege, Frankfurt, 1977, pp. 234-235)
One cannot but associate this ‘Faustian’ mechanism outlined in Heidegger’s text with the ‘power-step’ Nazi Germany found itself occupying at that conjuncture – the post-Stalingrad debacle.  Hence the “unthought” (inner fear) of the object of will to power (no longer just the “creative surpassing” of the “niveau”) is quite simply defeat.  These urgent goading warnings dotted around Heidegger’s texts – are quasi acts of looking over the shoulder at the pursuing enemy whose power and will to more power are growing – and digging the spurs more viciously and futilely into the flanks of a panting sinking Reich-nag.  It is all very well to preach the continuous “overpowering” of the will to power of itself – but how will one ever know if those acts of the will wanting itself and its will to power, meaning always ‘more power’ (so close to the formulae of capital – capital is always ‘more capital’ or death alias crash) are truly acts of the will to power or mere ‘semblance’ – sheer diversion, an empty flurry of activity unleashed by the imperceptible but unstoppable “sinking of power”.  The objects of this deluded activity would certainly qualify as “defeatist objects”.  
 
Actions and concepts have a treacherous doppelgänger-nature.  For instance Heidegger’s “Immergleiche” (always the same) is related to an industrial “und so weiter”  (and so forth) of the mass production power blocs of America and Russia (the ‘enemy’ in other words) and hence negative, reprehensible.  But in connection to Being – one of its unfailing virtues is once again “Das Immergleiche” – close in spirit to Nietzsche’s “eternal return”.
“Sein ist im Gegenhalt zum Schein das bleibende Vorbild, das Immergleiche.” (“Being as opposed to Appearance is the enduring model, the always-the-same.”, Einführung in die Metaphysik, ibid., p. 154)
But “Das Immergleiche” is also intimately complicit in “Auswegslosigkeit” – having no way out.  Greek thought saw the repetitiveness of human existence and as a consequence its ‘exit-lessness’ with great clarity.  The myths of Sisyphus, Tantalus – both myths describe travesties of action, being always the same, endlessly repeating and futile.  The punishment inflicted upon Prometheus involves both the punisher – the eagle – and Prometheus in a similarly repetitive self-renewing torture.  The eagle feeds everyday on Prometheus’ liver, which grows back every night.  And in the garden where we planted the mythological fig tree and grape vine – each year the brown figs ripen on the tree, the black grapes hang in many clusters from the vine and each year the emissaries of futility – the blackbirds and the wasps – devour or mutilate the fruits.
Exit-lessness is not in a place, but in the nature of action – no matter what place.  That is why such action is like fate.


‘The Good Life’
 
Is the ‘good life’ (bios politikos) in the polis or res publica envisioned by the Greeks and Romans itself subject to decay?  Certainly its aim and function were not only to evade decay but to be the source of immortality.  “For the polis was for the Greeks, as the res publica was for the Romans, first of all their guarantee against the futility of individual life, the space protected against this futility and reserved for relative permanence, if not immortality, of mortals.” (Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, Chicago, 1998, p.56)

By definition the ‘good life’ is a ‘second life’ beyond and above the sheer necessities of the repetitive cycles of physical life.  All that takes place in the household or oikos, the private sphere where even law can barely penetrate.  In a kind of symmetry – the tiresome necessities of life are excluded from the polis, but the organ of the polis – law – is prohibited from interfering in this harsh realm of necessity.
The ‘good life’ to be good must be beyond that repetitive, reproductive life where paradoxically decay is situated, located, originates.  Hence the ‘good life’ is also ‘more than life’.  The ‘good life’ only occurs in the ‘public realm’ where one can gratefully leave all the pressing despotic concerns of the household behind and engage in free intercourse with equals.  The household is only another term for the life of the body and its necessities.  Thus politics, even biopolitics still carries around with it this anachronistic glamour of a life transcending sheer necessity (self-preservation, survival), although the modern state at least since Hobbes is expressly concerned with that alone, the management or governance of the ‘first life’.  The modern state is the oikos on the grand scale – the economy is the first category of governance, entailing the preservation of the reproductive facilities of human society.  Politics in the era of the Grand Oikos of the State represents a double loss of the ‘second life’ – the second or good life, ‘the political’ disappears into the management of the first life – the life of the body in the household, inheriting all the tyrannical structures of the household ruled by the head of the household – the family tyrant.  Oikos swallows all of life.  ‘Equality’ of oikos approximates what Carl Schmitt calls “equality of stock”.


False Messiah

Adorno  in Minima Moralia
mourns the loss of “das richtige Leben” (the right life), which has disappeared – one hardly remembers the phrase.  Now is the time of “das falsche Leben” (the false life).  The redeemer of the ‘false life’ is the ‘false Messiah’.  But is perhaps that third sort of life “damaged life” (das beschädigte Leben) – the miniscule trace of the “right life” in “false life” - deemed impossible?  The damage done to life is the difference between the two.

Even in metamorphosis something stays the same – when Gregor Samsa changed in his bed into a “giant vermin” – most of his feelings, reflexes, fears, speculations and relations to others stayed the same.  His tragedy – his physical metamorphosis transformed his place in the perceptions and situation of others, his function and meaning for family, servants, friends, his boss and strangers; his extrinsic finality changed radically.  For himself, he was almost the same, his intrinsic finality un-metamorphosed.   

 Benjamin speaks of history as decomposition in “World and Time” –
 “1. World and time. In the revelation of the divine, the world – the theatre of history – is subjected to a great process of decomposition, while time – the life of him who represents it – is subjected to a great process of fulfilment.  The end of the world: the destruction and liberation of a (dramatic) representation.”(Walter Benjamin, Selected Writings, 1913-1926, Harvard, 2002, p. 226)

Growth is fashioning, plasticity, metamorphosis but no less decay – change in the ‘opposite’ direction – in a sense there is no difference between them.  Elements, particles are fused, fashioned to new entities in growth – or new entities of decay in disintegration.  And at any point of growth or decay its opposite is also at work.  Living is also dying and vice versa.  In decay the flesh, appearance recedes – as Goethe says of age or the ageing process: it is a step-wise retreat from appearing (“stufenweises Zurücktreten aus der Erscheinung” cited in Arendt, ibid. p. 51) – towards the ultimate disappearance in death.  But in this retreat or receding from view one sees what the thing itself, when it was whole, covered up.  Thus, as Adorno observes, decay is a source of enlightenment or knowledge for the subject insofar as its subjecthood is itself in the throes of an epoch of the decay of the individual.
“Im Zeitalter seines Zerfalls trägt die Erfahrung des Individuums von sich und dem was ihm widerfährt, nochmals zu einer Erkenntnis bei, die von ihm bloß verdeckt war, solange es als herrschende Kategorie ungebrochen positiv sich auslegte.” (“In the epoch of its decay, the experience of the individual of itself and of whatever happens to it, contributes again to a knowledge, that was hidden from and by itself, as long as it, as a hegemonic category, construed itself positively and unbroken.”, Theodor W. Adorno, “Zueignung” (Dedication) Minima Moralia, Frankfurt, 1980, , p. 11)


The very fragility of the subject, its being ‘damaged’ by the overwhelming forces of historical and social process, but no longer so unquestionably allied with them – frees it from the stifling identification with these same processes.  The subject recedes from these processes and regains its ‘negative’ experiences of this same epochal decay.  The “right life” has been swept away – what remains is only the “false life”; at some indefinite unfixed/wavering point Adorno’s “Das Ganze ist das Unwahre” (The Whole is the Untruth) and Hegel’s “Das Ganze ist das Wahre” (The Whole is the Truth) meet up.  Although Hegel makes this optimistic judgement in the preface to the Phenomenology of Spirit – to which Adorno’s Minima Moralia is in a sense a melancholy reply – this “whole” to which Hegel refers is split through and through upon itself.  As if the “truth” were only a mask for the subject or consciousness, to keep its infinitely centrifugal particles from irretrievably flying apart into oblivion.  The most extreme attention in Hegel is always concentrated not on what is but on what is disappearing.  


The Extraction of the ‘Lapis Philosophallus’ (Artaud)

In a recent critique of Badiou, Jean-Clet Martin notes, following Kant, that space itself is inseparable from an aesthetic – and Badiou’s mathematical ontology cannot account for deformation. “On peut parier sur des multiplicités beaucoup plus folles comme nous le montrera la topologie de Riemann, esthétique en ce que l’espace se soumet de la déformation, (l’espace avec Kant se montre lui-même inséparable d’une esthétique).” (“One can put a wager on multiplicities far crazier than what Riemann’s topology can show us, aesthetic, in the way that space submits to a deformation, (space itself with Kant shows itself inseparable from an aesthetic).” (“L’arène de Badiou”, in “nonfiction.fr”, 4th May 2011, online)

Perhaps though Badiou’s ontology can malgré lui illuminate a ‘defeatist object’ of the kind I chanced to see in the subterranean cavern-studio of the performance artist Franko B.

Somewhere, in James Joyce’s Ulysses, is a figure called “the collector of foreskins” associated with the prophet Elijah, patron of circumcision.  God himself is sometimes known as the “collector of prepuces” – at least in the anti-Catholic propaganda of the Protestant Church.  Locke and Voltaire also satirize the Catholic Church’s alleged “veneration of the foreskin of Christ”.  Derrida, with his acute interest in phalluses and circumcision, calls attention to this Joycean “collector” in Ulysse gramophone - the “collector of foreskins” is named Moses.  After having gleaned this reference from a book by Gideon Ofrat entitled The Jewish Derrida (Syracuse, 2001, p. 21) I was immediately reminded of the special jar I saw on the shelf of Franko B’s atelier – located deep underground, in the East End of London, where in the used-up air, the poor might have been renting their squalid quarters in Marx’s days, in the sub-sub-sub cellar of the citadel of Toynbee in Whitechapel.  Arts Council England is the present-day landlord of these catacombs.  Franko B, like Kafka’s Titorelli, is a “trusted man of the Court”.
Franko B’s jar houses his collection of used condoms.  He picked them up from the floor of a sex club where he had been working.  One can safely assume that all of these relics were carrying some micro-particle of the HIV virus.  Franko B is the collector of another kind of foreskin.  But beyond its sheer physical microbiological properties could one not see some Badiouist structures or topologies in and of this jar?  The jar, resembling some of Beuys’ homely glass preserves filled with antediluvian unidentifiable white glycerolesque objects floating in a ‘dead sea’ brine, is first of all a boundary – enclosing a homogenous but fractal structure approximating bat guano or expectorated phlegm.  Is that jar not like the state (model, allegory) – the ontology of the same (all male remnants) – the invisible culture being bred of HIV virus and semen, the part of the indiscernible – possible intervention of the event (the contamination or disease)?   Frank B like Badiou is an axiomist – a man of the state.  The jar is his objectified axiom of the sexual count-as-one.   He has gathered the uncounted identical repetitive homosexual acts in the one space of the club and transferred them to the one space of the jar.  

The condom is the singleton (anti-state), yet a component of the state – included but not a member.  It is in no relation to the state (the jar) but included in the situation - not belonging.  Each condom is a subset of positive and negative: with its detritus of sperm filling, the contours of the anonymous penis, which inhabited it briefly – it is the positive; the microbiological relics, topological imprints of the anus/mouth where it was presumably inserted – is the negative.  The condom is the “errancy of the excess” – represented by the sub-multiple state of the situation but not presented – not named in the situation or state of situation – thus not existent for the state.  Each condom is a negative measure – that of excess (desire) – or it “designates the measureless difference, and especially quantitative difference, or difference of power between the state of the situation (+) and the situation (+).  However, in a certain sense, it also designates the difference between being (in situation) and the event (+) (ultra-one).  Excess turns out to be errant and unassignable.” (Alain Badiou, Being and Event, London/New York, 2007, p. 507)  

Or is William Burroughs the better ‘ontologist’ for this case:
“One assumes a “beingness” where past crimes highlighted the direction of a “havingness”. (William Burroughs, Nova Express, (originally published in The Soft Machine, Nova Express and The Wild Boys: Three Novels, Black Cat Book, 1980), PDF, online p. 72) 

Ontology deteriorates into a forensic cul-de-sac – under the condition of absolute unreliability of evidence and witnesses. 


 


The Degraded Object (Kantor)

Today I return to Tadeusz Kantor’s book of theatre manifestos impatiently ‘brutally’ – perhaps somewhat in the manner Derrida describes in The Beast and the Sovereign, Volume I “I reopen Introduction to Metaphysics rather violently, guided by what matters to us at the moment, (…)” (Chicago, 2009), PDF, online, p. 263)  - to a place I had marked (but for another reason – a mentioning of Kaprow) – not to find something expected as Derrida did when he re-consulted Heidegger’s “relaunch” of the question “what is man?” – but perhaps a matter not completely estranged from this question.  I read, that Kantor understands his “emballage” (wrapping) in the context of what he identifies as “degraded objects”.  They are objects wrenched from life or use on the border or suspended between “eternity and garbage”.  Those “degraded objects” are themselves more precisely named as “poor realities of the lowest rank” – these lowest realities alone are his first elements of the work of art.  They correspond most closely to ‘matter’ in a fluid state: “MATTER which is freed from abiding by the laws of construction; which is always fluid; which is infinite; which negates the concept of form; which is FORMLESS, INFORMELLE; which is discovered in the EXPLOSIONS OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS,
in the BIOLOGICAL PROCESS OF DECAY;
which is transformed by TIME,
DESTRUCTION, and COINCIDENCE.” (Tadeusz Kantor, “Reality of the Lowest Rank” (1980) in A Journey Through Other Spaces, Essays and Manifestos, 1944-1990, Berkeley/Los Angeles/London, 1993, p. 117)     
The wave of the “informel” which was then sweeping through the art world confirmed the “discovery” he had made “ten years earlier in 1944 during a time of genocide” – which must have been most palpable for him, made/rendered visible in his native Poland.  This time convinced him of the “need to
ACCEPT THE REALITY THAT WAS WRENCHED OUT AND
SEAPARATED FROM THE EVERYDAY
AS THE FIRST ELEMENT OF THE CREATIVE PROCESS;
AN OBSERVATION THAT
A DISCARDED OBJECT, WHICH IS AT THE THRESHOLD OF
BEING THROWN OUT,
WHICH IS USELESS, GARBAGE,
HAS THE BIGGEST CHANCE TO BEOME THE OBJECT OF
ART AND THE WORK OF ART.” (ibid. p. 118)

The object in 1944 in theatre ceases to be a prop.  It exists on an “equal footing with the actor.  (The object) WAS THE ACTOR!
The OBJECT-ACTOR!” (“Object 1944”, ibid., p. 72)  Just as the emballage, itself a reality of lowest rank – at its purest or zero level – the black sack covering all of the actors and ‘stage’ (a destroyed room) – is simply:
 “A huge, black “emballage”
(…) the final and radical
tool of complete
extermination.” (“The Zero Theatre”, ibid.,  p. 70)

Seen in the light of Kantor’s “discoveries” made in the “time of genocide” – he insists on the year 1944 as part of this discovery – the extermination camp in all of its manifestations and gradations together with its most intimate original product – the will-less spiritless Thing-Human (Actor), the human torn out of the everyday with its non-human objects, becoming that object-human (as waste) called a Muselmann – is an aesthetic reality of the West.  Aesthetic means here – the decaying re-forming of the world or the re-forming of the decaying world.  When one views the camp as the theatre of the Muselmann (Object-Actor) and at the same time its production site – this is not to say it is an intended (desired) production.  It is neither an action of the personnel nor the inmates of the camp – it is a transcendent invisible surplus, a (theatre) production of the camp in itself – the camp as ‘automatic’ subject acting for and of itself.  

The condition or state of the “Muselmann” is where absolute obedience (Kadavergehorsam – the obedience of the corpse) and absolute resistance touch or meet.  Inert matter, in the tradition of the medieval Christian monastic orders is the model of perfect obedience – the ideal to which the member of the order (monk or nun) must aspire/fulfil.  Simone Weil traces this model of obedience (not just to the divine but to any superior) – to “antiquity” and Paul for whom Christ is the first teacher of this obedience by his example on the cross.  “Cela est d’une évidence lumineuse si, comme l’Antiquité, on regards la passivité de la matière inerte comme la perfection de l’obéissance à Dieu, et la beauté du monde comme l’éclat de la parfaite obéissance.”
[“There is a luminous evidence, that, like in antiquity, one considers the passivity of the inert matter to be like the perfection of the obedience to God, and the beauty of the world as the dazzling effect of that perfect obedience.”  (Simone Weil, L’Enracinement, Gallimard, 1949, pp. 377-378)]
Body and the wood (nails) from which it hangs become indistinguishable.  Or in the sense of Christ’s teaching of perfect submission or will-less submission to God – his quasi-inert body is the ‘fruit’ of that tree.  If one regards this ‘fruit’ as precursor of the body of the martyr-tyrant of the type Benjamin explores in his study of baroque drama – then it is also the same ‘fruit’ cited by Nietzsche as the one ripening best in the ‘time of corruption’.  In the times of corruption the tyrant “fruit of fruits” hangs on the “tree of the people” – which only exists, writes Nietzsche, for the sake of this fruit.

The other “antiquity” to which Weil refers is exemplified in the vision of Francis of Assisi – who compared the most perfect obedience (perfecta et summa obedientia) towards one’s superior with the reactions or absence of reactions of a dead, spiritless body (corpus mortuum, corpus exanime).  Such obedience is passionately depicted by Catherine of Siena to the nuns of Perugia – as a “sweet obedience” which comes of killing the will, and the more dead it is, the quicker and lighter is the step of this obedience – bringing it in the shortest time to a union of love with the “eternal groom” – and the enjoyment of the “smells and the fruit” of the immortal – whilst still in the mortal shell.  In a more sombre tone Ignatius of Loyola wrote this imperative into the constitution of the Jesuit order of 1558 – whence it wandered into German as “Kadavergehorsam”.  The Jesuit must allow himself to be guided by providence through his superior as if he were a dead body (ac si cadaver essent) – but also as if he were an object, a thing, a crutch – a cane for an old man to use as a support how and when he chooses.   (This monastic tradition of the will-lessness of the corpse as a model of perfect obedience might be a source of Agamben’s fascination with the Muselmann, his “Franciscan ontology” (Chiesa)  - a figure he appropriates as a physical allegory of the mystical void – the most extreme death of will, still this side of eternity.)
Weil sees the ‘perfect obedience’ in a continuity with the original “Fall” from obedience for which man must eternally repent – the means of his repentance, his punishment, are work and death.  As a chastisement they are also the very instruments of the supreme good – submitting to them places the disobedient mortal within this supreme good – obedience to God.  

Through one’s perfect obedience one deadens one’s will, becoming like inert matter, just as in one’s labour - living labour turns itself through pain of work into the object or dead labour.  “Physical labour is a daily death.” (Weil)
The process of living as also one of dying (Being-towards-death) is the gradual transformation “d’un être fait de chair frémissant et de pensée, d’un être qui désire et hait, espère et craint, veut et ne veut pas, en un petit tas de matière inerte.” (“(…) of a being made of simmering flesh and thought, a being who desires and hates, hopes and fears, wants and wants not, into a little pile of inert matter.”)
Although the act of deadening the will is only complete, final in death itself – the agreement/consent/decision to undergo this transformation is itself for humans “l’acte suprême de totale obéissance.  C’est pourquoi saint Paul dit du Christ lui-même, au sujet de la Passion, “ce qu’il souffert lui a enseigné l’obéissance et l’a rendu parfait.” ”
(“(…) the supreme act of total obedience.  That is why saint Paul said of Christ himself, on the subject of the Passion, “what he suffered taught him obedience and made it perfect.”” (Weil, ibid.) )

The suspended state between organic and inorganic or rather dynamic and inert/passive matter is the emblem of absolute obedience.  (Isn’t dead organic matter still organic?  So the death drive is not really the tendency towards the inorganic, but only the inert.)  Is that not also pure being – because everything remains with itself – eludes the temporal – all that pulls it away from itself like will or desire (conatus) – is also the dimension of the temporal, of becoming.  Being-towards-death (Sein zum Tode) falls back into itself – rather than away – into inert matter as absolute obedience.  It is an auto-collapse of matter into matter – being into being – this self-sufficiency is the same as will-lessness or desire-lessness of matter.  If matter does not want anything – it cannot be said to need anything.  Everything that leads matter back to itself is being, everything that leads matter away from itself is spirit.  

In the manifesto “The Theatre of Death” Kantor examines “Craig’s postulate” – the renewal of theatre through the elimination of the actor, replacing him with the marionette.  The marionette undermines theatre of the conventional sort – the theatre of actors.  It becomes somewhat more and less than ‘art’.  An actor-theatre is ‘only’ human – no matter which content or effects are used – the inhuman, totemic, the fetish, the supernatural elude a theatre of actors.  Sculpture in the ‘actorless theatre’ has both something of the marionette and the defeatist (degraded) object.  It is on an equal footing with the actor who never appears, the actor-to-come.
(Celan in The Meridian – refers to art – as a species of marionette.  He is paraphrasing Büchner in Danton’s Death – where the theme of art as a marionette or an automaton mingles with the characters’ historical epochal abandonment – their will-less submission to the forces of the puppeteer history –, which has condemned them in its drama to the guillotine death.  At their moment of death they say: “Marionettes, that’s what we are, pulled by strings in the hands of unknown powers, nothing by ourselves, nothing!” (cited in Derrida, The Beast and the Sovereign Volume I, ibid., p. 252)

The marionette is an accessory of the magician and belongs to the practices of charlatans, fairground booths.  It acts as a trap, distraction, illusion – still a theatre, which is founded on the marionette – approaches art more than the ‘natural’ human theatre of the actor.  The marionette is richly endowed with what the actor must work hard to achieve – it is from the start a “manifestation of “reality of the lowest order” – a ‘poor’ or ‘degraded’ object.  It is empty and void – “a message of death” and a “model for the actor”, the mimesis of death.  The marionette is not a trompe-l’œil, a life-like gilded surrogate for the human (like E.T.A. Hoffmann’s Olimpia, still an imitation of a human female) – the human actor must become marionette-like, a degraded object, or perish.  A paradox of the comedian?  Gordon Craig and Kleist were against actors, for marionettes.
“Imitation and Deceptive Similarity, which serves the conjuror in setting his Traps and fooling the viewer, the use of “unsophisticated” means, evading the concepts of aesthetics, the abuse and fraudulent deception of Appearances (…)
Its appearance (the mannequin) complies with my ever-deepening conviction that it is possible to express life in art only through the absence of life, through an appeal to Death, through Appearances, through Emptiness and the lack of a Message.” (Kantor, “The Theatre of Death”, ibid., p. 112)

The dark night of suburbia is a degraded location.

As a Catholic, Kantor’s model for all poor realities of the lowest rank etc – the theatre of death – is the cross with the human worm, the crucified one hanging from it – the body of Christ nailed to the cross is the archetype of the marionette – the conjuror’s distraction – a few days later – the body has vanished – the tomb is empty (the void, absence) - the worm is resurrected, becomes a god or returns to his god status, becomes again the puppeteer.  




 

Sein und Schein

 
1.  The Apparition

The English village has its shocking sights.  At first I thought the curtains in the side upstairs window of the widow’s house were all twisted and half torn down.  She is the widow of the man in the blue baseball cap and long blue coat who walked his black dog at night and whom we mocked because we thought he has spying on us – officially, either that or simply Mephisto.  (He used to let himself be regularly dropped off at the curb from a dark blue BMW just in front of our house.  We never believed in his death either.)  But it was not a curtain.  My eyes suddenly recognized a ‘Gestalt’ in the yellowing shroud-like waves and undulations of ‘cloth’ (the colour of old soap and lime scale).
The upstairs window on the side of the semi-detached brick house was completely filled with a window size marble figure of Christ in his diverse draperies – all solid.   He was the god of the windows – a true apparition because first of all he mimicked a wrecked curtain so well.  His expression was of such intense live suffering and despair – the whole of the widow’s story was in that upstairs window.  The features of the Window God bore some idealized resemblance to the man in the blue coat.  It was as if he wanted to jump out of the window.  The arms of the figure stretched from one side of the window frame to the other – so that the window frame was the horizontal of that imaginary cross.  Being elevated to the height of the second floor window situated the figure more realistically on a phantom cross – that might have been the height of a crucifixion – although probably still too low.  It was an English size village crucifixion – like in the paintings of Stanley Spencer.  He was the god of the window and of throwing yourself out of the window.  The house looks otherwise unoccupied – a ‘for sale’ sign on the rear window of an Audi parked in the drive.  Perhaps only ‘he’ lives there now. 

2.  The Jesus Window and the Laughing Forest

The Jesus window was open at the top – as if he were gasping for air.  When I looked through the window of the front room  - I half expected to see the widow sitting at the table – or to see the room in its usual vacant twilight.  But the room wasn’t vacant.  Sitting at the table staring back at me was Jesus himself – a young man with beady frightening eyes and grey streaked hair combed back off a wide forehead – but whose face looked unearthly wan (or just recently removed from the earth) and whose outlines melted into shadows of grisaille. Has he taken over the widow’s place – did he put his effigy in the window?  He seemed oddly alive, airborne – life floating on air – too light for a small mournful widow’s retreat.  Has he come to collect?
Omen:  I thought of the word ‘grisaille’ to describe the shadowy appearance of the strange ‘foreign’ face in the widow’s parlour (not an English face) some days after having seen the second apparition.  Quite by chance, shortly after having thought of this word – I read a passage from Hegel’s Rechtsphilosophie quoted in Kojève’s Introduction to the Reading of Hegel as the best explanation of Hegel’s concept of Er-innerung (memory).  The word grisaille comes twice in this passage!  “When philosophy paints its grisaille, a concrete-form of life has [already] grown old; and it does not permit itself to be rejuvenated by [a] grisaille, only known-or-understood (erkennen):—the owl of Minerva begins its flight only at the coming of dusk.” (Alexandre Kojève, Introduction to the Reading of Hegel, Ithaca, 1980, p. 163)  What better proof of the verisimilitude of the apparition or of Hegel?  As if the whole scene or double scene of the effigy in the window and its companion in the widow’s parlour were a quasi-rebus, a cryptogram, an allegory of this famous passage from the Rechtsphilosophie.  The concrete-form of life grown old, never again to be rejuvenated, only known?  Was the face in the dusky parlour a humanized owl of Minerva?           

3.  End of the Jesus Window

The vision of the window is gone.  As if it had never been.  Only a kind of monochrome cream pillar – fabric like – remains to mark where passion had flared.   Unusually, a big overhead light lit up the parlour last night.  No one was in the room.  The human fox – this is the best approximation of the facial features of the ‘visitor’ – was sighted no more.  Like one of those Chinese foxes Borges describes in The Book of Imaginary Beings – he took over the persona of the old widow, placed his talisman in the window.  He brought big earth with him.  His foxhole. 






 
‘Buyology’

A new discount store called “Buyology” reflects the religion of selling alias buying and implies the age of biopolitics at the same time. 
“Buyology” is then a melancholy science/religion because in one’s secret heart – one never feels that there is a fair price – nor that any price could compensate for the diminishing of oneself whether as a seller by transferring one’s property (substance) to the other for mere money, bare money.  Nor as a buyer for whom any price, no matter how low, will never compensate for the unfair exchange of immortal money for mortal decaying goods – whose rottenness is only a matter of time, usually quite short.    
(In chapter 12 of The Beast and the Sovereign, Derrida repeatedly uses the phrase when examining Agamben’s theses – ‘I or we will or will not put our money on that’ – one wonders what that is in French or is that just the translator’s idiom?)

Buyology is not just a religion, it is also a science of buying – akin to ‘scientology’, demonstrating Derrida’s postulate from “Faith and Knowledge” – that contemporary religion is always immediately ‘tele-technoscience’ – the repeatability of the procedure and the ‘belief’ in its results (credit) being the foundation of religion, science and buying.       
“To take note of this is to give oneself the means of understanding why, in principle, today, there is no incompatibility, in the said “return of the religious,” between the “fundamentalisms,” the “integrisms” or their “politics” and, on the other hand, rationality, which is to say, the tele-techno-capitalistico-scientific fiduciarity, in all of its mediatic and globalizing dimensions.” (Jacques Derrida, “Faith and Knowledge: The Two Sources of “Religion” at the Limits of Reason Alone, Acts of Religion, New York, 2010, p. 81)  But unlike the innate suitability expounded by Max Weber between the Protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism – the ménage of religion, science and capitalism ‘today’ is plagued by great discomfiture – in particular of a ‘phallic’ nature.  The “resurgence of religion” is itself a “swelling” dependent on the might of the adversary (capitalist techno-science) against which its phallic swelling spontaneously arises but with the rhythm and tempo of the capitalist machine.  Derrida is concerned to find the la source éternelle for both logic or what used to be called with Weber “occidental rationality” and religion or holiness; it is his caput Nili quœrere. 
He discovers this in the “colossal automaticity of the erection” - its reflex character is then “machinal” – the prime operator of the fertility machine, “(…) that speaks of force, life-force, fertility, growth, augmentation, and above all swelling, in the spontaneity of erection or of pregnancy.”  The erection is both spontaneous and a machine-like reflex, so “enough to account for (logon didonai) – counting on and calculating the incalculable (…)”(ibid., p. 84).  But it is not truly the physical penis he is considering in its erection – it is the fetishized phallus, separated or lifted from the penis, paraded around in processions and in other cult practices.  Here it becomes a kind of dead priapic thing – a marionette.  A fetish of the fetish.  “Matrix, once again, of a cult or of a culture of the generalized fetish, of an unlimited fetishism, of a fetishizing adoration of the Thing itself.” (ibid.)  If the phallus though in its fetishized otherness is a Thing itself – could it not also become a degraded, defeatist object – share the fate of any other thing/automaton?  Fall to pieces, break apart, become worthless, good for nothing?  Such is the lot of Olimpia, in Hoffmann’s tale “The Sandman” for example, ‘daughter’ of the Italian physics professor Spalanzani; he presents her to society, where his student Nathanael is seduced by her machinal charms – believing the beautiful life-like automaton were flesh and blood.
When he calls at the home of her ‘father’ the diabolical professor with the intention of proposing marriage, the sight of her eyes lying around on the ground drives him to fatal madness.
The execution machine in Kafka’s “In the Penal Colony”, succumbs to its own ‘autoimmunity’ – and its officer-caretaker throws himself onto the ‘pyre’ of the imploding mechanism – like a widow in India submitting to the rite of the sati.  Not to forget some more recent factual examples of the nemesis of technological hubris – the explosion of the Space Shuttle Challenger, Tschnernobyl, the nuclear disaster of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, the sinking of the Titanic, any banal power cut etc.  How can one think Derrida’s terms of automaticity, calculability (of incalculability), iterability, indemnification and especially the generic ‘faith’ feeding (fuelling) both religion and science in light of the collapse of all that – and what sort of ‘phallic-effect’ would that entail?   
The “colossal automaticity of the erection” was certainly not the rule in old Greek comedy.  If the phallus is a thing or object – what would be the defeated, degraded thing-object-phallus but the limp one, unable or unwilling to perform?  Such was the usual appearance of the Greek comic stage phallus. 
The satyr in the satyr play wore the “ithyphallic breeches” on stage and in depictions on vases, but the usual appearance of the ever-present stage phallus of comic actors was limp and dangling.  Sometimes it was shown on Attic vases looped up with a cord - a kynodesme.   Was the limp phallus of the comic actor, a ‘negative fetish’, - the defeatist object of comedy – to complement the hubris (object) of tragedy?  A notable exception to the rule of the dangling penis of comedy is represented on a vase called the “Getty Birds”.  One sees two birdmen belonging to a domesticated chicken species, winged and beaked, facing one another with distinctive ithyphallic attributes.  Between them is an aulos player acting as a referee.  As their portrayal with erect phalluses is an anomaly – many theories have been proposed to account for it.  Oliver Taplin identifies the bird-men as the “Logoi” in Aristophanes’ play The Clouds – two philosophical discourses fighting with one another like cocks.  This solution is still very tenuous – because he doubts that “ (…) anyone could find sufficient reason for the Logoi to have been ithyphallic.” (Oliver Taplin, Comic Angels and Other Approaches to Greek Drama Through Vase-Painting, Oxford, 1994 p. 103)  Perhaps the Logoi though have become fused with the boorish old peasant Strepsiades who enrols in Socrates’ “think-boutique” to find out how he can evade his creditors.  Socrates gives him the assignment to meditate under a blanket.  But instead of allowing his thoughts to arise, Strepsiades starts masturbating.

Another scholar of this period and its artefacts, E. Csapo – traces the erection of the figures to the erotic status of cockfights in ancient Greece where “sexual assertion primed by garlic, turns out to be central.” (ibid. p. 102)  But he does not dispute that the figures are Aristophanes’ Logoi.  Considering that Socrates is the main object of ridicule in Aristophanes’ play, a perhaps more ominous nexus between The Clouds and the figure of the cock is the semi-last sentence of Socrates to his friends, which puzzled Nietzsche so greatly – don’t forget to sacrifice a cock in the temple of Asclepius.  Here this association verges upon the sacred or sacrificial, but in a blasphemous way – the ithyphallic cock representing the ‘personified’ combative Logos reverts to a sacrificial cock.  Socrates requests that this sacrifice be made for him after he has drunk the hemlock cup, implying this will have been the drug, which has cured him of the illness of life.  He converted his departure into something enviable – spreading rumours about the joys of Hades so as to move his disciples to follow him to those shores.  Socrates was not a sacrificial animal of the polis, a substitute was needed in his stead.  Socrates saw his death as a cure.  The means were insignificant – the whole ceremony of state – trial, imprisonment and execution – was drained of its pathos.  Socrates’ mind if not his body was not so easily fooled by the ciarlatano  - life. 

The limp phallus of Attic comedy has progressed to a higher level of spirit or self-consciousness, to speak in Hegelian terms, than the priapic/ithyphallic of the fertility cult – upon which Derrida grounds his arguments for the infallibility of the virile holiness machine in “Faith and Knowledge”.  Basing his judgement on a study of theatrical scenes painted on a large sample of South Italian vases, Taplin concludes:  “There must be well over 300 phalluses on the vases to date, and of these either one or none is erect. (…) This is, I believe, a clear indication that the phallus of Old comedy is not some sort of vestige of a fertility ritual, but a gender-signal in keeping with the essential grossness and indecency of the genre.”(ibid.)  Comedy was the form in which the gods lost their immunity, their holiness.  For Derrida swelling or swollenness is especially holy.  Comedy is the unswelling of myth, the antithesis of holiness, it is the anti-myth.  Comedy inverts the world of tragedy – as in the scene from the paratragic comedy of Antigone on the “S. Agata ‘Antigone’” found at S. Agata dei Goti some time before 1828.  Although quite cryptic, one assumes it depicts - an actor wearing a whole-head bearded old man mask, who has half-disguised himself as Antigone.  The rest of his costume is a long gown (krokotos) sheer enough to reveal a stage phallus dangling underneath. ‘She’ seems to have been caught by a guard rather before than after the act of performing the forbidden funeral rites for Polyneikes.  The moment captured on the vase is when the comic Antigone (who perhaps must be persuaded to perform the sacred rites) is brought before Creon, in the one hand the funeral vessel (hydria) and in the other the female mask – not yet properly shaven for the part.


Roadside Demons
Location: Nippon-Mexico

They had to climb over the walls of weed-infested gardens to lay their traps.  He was good at climbing – he threw down the ropes for the others.  She had to go to the other end of the city to catch a train to the Cat Temple.  He had told her to meet him there whether it rained or not.  Their mascot, a three-legged cat who had lost her hind leg in a legendary fight with a water rat, was the cat deity in residence.  The hunters had bussed in reinforcements from the golf club.  Instead of normal tattoos, their flesh is embossed with golf clubs and golf irons.  She wasn’t allowed to carry an umbrella – that would frighten off the cat hunter.  They had to lure him in close enough for a whisper – at least in ‘ear clipping distance’.  If she felt like backing out, she could always be a tyro-courier for the wolf-man again.  There could never be enough level ones.  No, she said, I had my share of getting stuck in smelly elevators.  At least I get fresh air on the cat run.  If she saw anyone wearing a fur coat on the train – she should get off one station before the last stop and wait at the gas station near the car wash area.  If she felt lonely or queasy (she had said queasy not him), she could sit underneath the street lamp – but keep her head down and face out of the light.  She shouldn’t look up even if passers-by walk right next to her so that they almost step on her feet.  These would only be apparitions sent by the hunter demons – eight legged dog-walking demons who lay the excremental eggs and sperm of new demons in the carcasses of rotting fruit.  No normal human would walk unprotected around the gas station.  She hadn’t wanted to listen to his instructions – she didn’t answer the phone – the gnawing ringing could have only been him.  She knew he would know she was there and was defying him.  But for how long?  She would have to appear at the Cat Temple – it was not just his demand – the rules of the society were very strict.  On the other hand – as a member of the Cat Temple Order she is immune at least to some of the temptations of the apparitions.  Eventually a car will come to pick her up.  All went according to plan.  She saw a man with a fur coat but just in time – he was sitting behind a heap of luggage, mostly hatboxes.  She got off the train and found the low wall in front of the car wash.  But someone was already sitting underneath the street lamp.  A blond woman wearing a fur hat.  But now it was too late.  There weren’t even taxis at that hour.  She sat next to the fur-hatted woman, not quite sure if it were a roadside demon or not.  She didn’t want to look too closely – but somehow she sensed that there was more than a passing resemblance between herself and the person sitting on her designated rendezvous seat.  Behind her the big vertical yellow brushes of the automatic car wash started to rotate.  She saw neither a car nor a person in the dim haze of the burglar lights. 
 

Will to Forget 


Is capitalism driven by a will to forget?  Does capitalism have a memory at all?  Wallerstein’s ‘big idea’ of capitalism as a “structure in crisis” is a pleonasm.  It is always in crisis – that is its constitutive principle.  He might mean – its crisis is now permanent.  But this is neither true nor false.  Nor is it a case which if not true now might eventually become true.  A structure like capitalism is quite similar to the former British Empire (whence capitalism in its definitive form was hatched) – the sun never sets on its crisis.  Somewhere in its vast realm it is always in crisis – as a natural condition of its prosperity elsewhere.  The crisis of the banks turned into the crisis of the cuts.  Capitalism relies on another quasi-anthropological law of human society – the misfortune (crisis) of my neighbour/competitor is my profit.  

As in art (perhaps) crisis is an indispensable elixir for capitalism.  In the words of Reb Nachman of Bretzlav – ascend in order to descend, descend in order to ascend.  Everyone has his own Eden painted on his face.

But this is only logical – as everything in capitalism is art or turns to art – or revolution.  Beuys will have foreseen this long ago when he said ‘everyone is an artist’.  Michael Fried’s notorious “Art and Objecthood” means simply (vulgarly) art of/and the commodity fetish.  For Virno the new ‘creative’ worker is a ‘virtuoso’ – someone whose product is the sheer exercising of his acquired or innate skills – mostly ‘communicative’ – for an audience.  This is his work-performance – his product is born and dies in its performance.  Political economy returns to Jean-Baptiste Say’s “immaterial product”.  The worker-performer par excellence is the salesman.  The communicative nature of work is selling.  A techno-columnist in the techno magazine Wired praises PowerPoint as performance art, the birth of a new art form and at the same time the techno-democratic empowering of freedom of speech.  But is selling – abstract labour?  Is abstract labour – art?   

    


Pecunia perennis


Money is an event, which is so old, no one knows when it realised itself as an event.  Money is very old and has no age.  Badiou says the same of philosophy.  Following his ‘master’ Althusser he speaks in “Creative Repetition” of philosophia perennis.  Are money and philosophy intimately related?  At least it seems so for Badiou – only recently though has philosophy’s thinking become “worthy” of Capital.  So philosophy has a history after all – the history of Capital?  And yet, Badiou, echoing Heidegger, declares the end of the history of philosophy, proposing, “(…) a violent forgetting of the history of philosophy, thus a violent forgetting of every historical assemblage of the forgetting of being.” (Alain Badiou, “The (Re)Turn of Philosophy Itself” in Conditions, Continuum, 2008, p.5)
It is a truism and a trivial thought:  money stays money, even though the commodities and the currencies come and go, money as money never changes.  Is money special in this never changing?   Whole civilizations and empires founded on some sort of revenue expressed in money and coins have vanished – Phoenicia, Babylonia, ancient Egypt, Carthage, ancient Greece, Rome, Byzantium, the Avars, the Italian city-states, etc  - but money has outlived them all.  Sic transit gloria mundi.  (Voltaire’s Candide could still be plausibly shanghaied by the King of the Bulgars into fighting in a war against the King of the Avars.)
Is this an example of parousia in the platonic sense of the immanence of the eternal form (presence of the idea) in the singular thing – which in turn partakes of the Idea?  Money is a pure form of the ontology/metaphysics of presence - it continuously represents itself in every singular unit of itself.  It has the unchangeability, the constancy Heidegger endlessly reiterates as the attributes of being.
For Christian theology parousia is the alleged second coming of Christ – but a second meaning of the Greek word refers to a person’s property, substance in the material sense, inheritance and money.  The word for being – ousia – is habitually associated in ancient Greek with property and money.  Christianity followed suit.
The seeming eternity and immutability of money, eternal youth as opposed to eternal decay, is associated in the Greek language with the highest most divine certainties, for Plato it is the idea, for Christianity the second coming.
Like money the Christian messiah comes and goes, but is always there and will inevitably return.  Redemption is a transcendental form of circulation.  Money is also like the Eucharist – the embodied abstraction. When consumed (exchanged) in the ritual the particular disk-shaped wafer (the coin) becomes the ‘general equivalent’, the universal body of Christ (transubstantiation).   Hoc est enim corpus meum.  Although the second coming is still to come – a property of Christ, his property, his corpus, or ousia is already present in each wafer eaten in the Eucharist – circulating through the alimentary canals of the community of faithful (the ‘communicants’) and so forming an immediate parousia in the Now.  This ‘cum’ is in turn being-with (Mitsein) the ousia of Christ whilst receiving it (the presence of Christ) and so forth.
In Phaidon – beauty is described as that in a thing, which is part of the idea of beauty.  It is this presence of the idea in the thing which determines its being.  No one today can invent money, nor tomorrow, money will never progress nor regress.  Money unlike the value form has no age, as counting has no age.  Capital has an age – but within its age it is as timeless as money.  The credit crisis of today is no different than the credit crisis of 1857 about which Marx wrote.  Economists like fortunetellers are always wary of years ending in the number seven. Are entities, which cannot be dated events?  If they are not – is their attribute of being, less or more than events that have dates and calendars attached to them?  For Badiou the years 1789, 1793, 1917, 1968 etc.  An idea in the platonic sense would not be an event – because it was always present and is always present.  Is and was are indistinguishable for an idea.  The future for the idea does not exist – because the present has no point from which to conceive a time beyond it.  Money is so old that one cannot really imagine a time without it; hence it is more Platonic than historical, - atemporal, universal and not an event.




Animal Money


A: Money is that which distinguishes man from animals.  Even a Darwinist would have to agree.
B: That’s right.  What would animal-without-world money look like?
‘Did you ever seen a dog exchange a bone with another dog?’




Anti-Mimesis


Mimesis trap – anti-mimesis too.

Nietzsche doesn’t mind.  Of course these are notes, fragments unpublished in his lifetime – but he anticipated that only in this fashion could one really ‘know’ him or his ‘terrible’ thoughts.  Only by seeing them as they erupt – in their ‘raw’ state – when they are practically long overdue, do they exhibit their real power.  Anything else is the “Tartüfferie der Wissenschaftlichkeit” (Tartufferie of scientificity).  The true origins of a thought are disguised behind “false arrangements of deduction and dialectic” – they are as such faked arguments, “false scientificity” – a bad mimesis.  The interpretation of such tartufferies will always be the uncovering of the trace of the hidden ‘un-method’ of their thought.  On the other hand, “Die tiefsten und unerschöpflichsten Bücher werden wohl immer etwas von dem aphoristischen und plötzlichen Charakter von Pascals Pensées haben.  Die treibenden Kräfte und Wertschätzungen sind lange unter der Oberfläche; was hervorkommt ist Wirkung.” [“The deepest and most inexhaustible books will always have something of the aphoristic and sudden character of Pascal’s Pensées.  The driving forces and estimations of value have been under the surface for a long time; what comes into view is effect.”
(“Tartüfferie der Wissenschaftlichkeit” in Friedrich Nietzsche, Posthumous Writings of the Eighties, Volume 6, Werke in Sechs Bänden, edited by Karl Schlechta, München-Wien, 1980, p. 448)]


In another note from the eighties Nietzsche abruptly switches from questions of Greek tragedy to capitalists, the stock market and the casino.  The moves of his thought:  the tragic human – anointed (berufene) teacher of humans – then – education should not have the average giftedness in ethos and intellect as its norm – but only those tragic natures.  This leads to a mock seriousness, an absurd pragmatism of the social-moral sphere: “Hier liegt die Lösung der socialen Frage.  Der reiche oder begabte Egoist ist ein Kranker und dem Mitleiden preisgegeben.” [“Here lies the solution to the social question.  The rich or gifted egoist is ill and abandoned to pity.” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Nachgelassene Fragmente, München, 1988, KSA 7, p. 121)]  But it is not just the rich or gifted egoist who is ill – the next jump in thought is a sort of apocalyptic vision of capitalism – the coming accursedness of the depots of wealth themselves.  “Ich sehe ungeheure Conglomerate an Stelle der vereinzelten Capitalisten treten.  Ich sehe die Börse dem Fluche verfallen, dem jetzt die Spielbanken gefallen sind.” (“I see monstrous conglomerates stepping into the place of single capitalists.  I see the stock market falling under a curse, under which now the casinos have fallen.”, ibid.) 
(The Jordanian government might think itself still under the curse of the casino – in the midst of the scandal known as “Casinogate” – the revelation of an illegal project to construct a ‘super-casino’ in the area of the Dead Sea.  1.4 billion dollars is the agreed penalty for breaking even an illegal contract.  Although legal and illegal are very diffuse terms under any circumstance.  One wonders how they thought they could hide a casino – even at the Dead Sea.)

Where is mimesis, even metamorphosis in this progression – either of thought or its object?  Without quoting Nietzsche directly (although a citation hovers nearby) – Derrida turns Nietzsche’s aperçu about the ‘tartufferie of scientificity’ itself into a postulate/law of his own ‘science’, the science of signs and writings.  The suddenness of writing, the lapse in discourse, becomes a new “rationality of logos” – the caesura, the principle of discontinuity.  It becomes difficult to distinguish though between the fake and the true discontinuity – because every writing is aphoristic, says Derrida.  Here he demonstrates how one can ruin an idea by absolutizing it  – by pressing it into the service of the continuous discontinuity of a legalistic presentation of the universal - (analogous perhaps to what Goethe meant when he said to Eckermann – ‘individuals have to be ruined again’).  The absolute aphorism is now burdened with the responsibility for that birth of the new logos (law) of rationality out of the spirit of the aphorism.  The caesura in writing (between words, books) becomes a limit – it limits and fixes the meaning.  Surprise and abruptness is worn away in meaning.  But the aphoristic in Nietzsche’s sense is not just a new way logos fixes meaning in the discontinuity of thought – it is essentially and willingly unfinished – and as such can have no fixed ‘meaning’.

But even in the petrified/hypostatised form to which Derrida consigns the thought of the aphoristic – writing becomes a composition of ‘jumps’ – under the premise that nature abhors jumps.  So whatever writing is – it is decidedly not nature.  And if it is not nature – then how can it be mimesis? (see Derrida, “Edmond Jabès and the Question of the Book”, in Writing and Difference, London and New York, 2005, p.87)


Another break in the continuity of mimesis – not in the representation of nature in writing, but of one art by another: the relationship between music and poetry or rather the impossibility of this relationship.  Otherwise how could it be that the worst music can still be the ‘Dionysian world-ground’, a status denied even the most sublime poetry?  Or vice versa, the worst poetry can represent the cold Apollonian semblance for the most exquisite of music.  The single bad tone, the single bad image is already respectively Dionysian or Apollonian.
All of these un-relations contradict the view that the world is founded on mimesis.  How does music imitate poetry or the other way around? These unequal (disproportionate) relations between art forms are inherent in art – not outside of it.  But not just in art.  It is an anti-mimetic impulse in mimesis itself – memorably expressed by Mephistopheles in Goethe’s Faust I, when he comments (in an aside) that after drinking the witch’s potion – Faust will see Helena in every woman.  Right after this scene in the witch’s kitchen, Faust will, in the next scene, meet Gretchen, promptly falling in love with the first female he sees.  “Seeing Helena in every woman” is an anti-mimetic, quasi-generic urge.  What one sees is not the ‘woman’ but a phantom Helena – a deceiving image.  Or mimesis in this case relies upon the phantom inserting/insinuating itself between what one sees – which one never really sees at all – and the desire of something else.  If states of bliss (jouissance) presuppose the seeing of a phantom superimposed on the ‘real’, how can mimesis or ‘true’ imitation be a principle of anything in life or art? 

Mimesis or realism is based on chimeras, hallucinations, artifice.  Baudelaire recognizes this mechanism of deception even in the ‘true’ representation in landscape painting: “L’air joue un si grand rôle dans la théorie de la couleur que, si un paysagiste peignait les feuilles des arbres telles qu’il les voit, il obtiendrait un ton faux; attendu qu’il y a un espace d’air bien moindre entre le spectateur et le tableau qu’entre le spectateur et la nature.
Les mensonges sont continuellement nécessaires, même pour arriver au trompe-l’œil.”
[“Air plays such a grand role in the theory of colour, that if a landscape artist paints the leaves of the trees as he sees them, he will obtain a false tone; because the airspace between the spectator and the painting is much less than that between the spectator and nature. 
Lies are continuously necessary, even to achieve a trompe-l’œil.”
(Charles Baudelaire, “De La Couleur” in “Salon de 1846”, œuvres complètes, Seuil, 1968, p. 231)]
Isn’t the lie in the word ‘trompe-l’œil’ itself?  To fool the eye?
Still every good poet is always a ‘realist’.  Poetry is that which is most real, because it is only completely true in another world.
The world about us is a “hieroglyphic dictionary”.  [“La Poésie est ce qu’il y a de plus réel, c’est ce qui n’est complètement vrai que dans un autre monde.
Ce monde-ci, dictionnaire hiéroglyphique.”, Baudelaire, “Puisque réalisme il y a”, ibid., p. 448]   

For Nietzsche though, those phantoms and chimera, the necessary lies, are not just a question of representation in a work of art, although works of art in themselves belong to the highest order of ‘hallucination’ (Wahngebilde).  The phantom images are more ‘originary’ – they belong to the “deception mechanism” (Trugmechanismus) of the will.  The interceding delusion is generated by the will itself – it exists not for its ‘mimetic’ potency – but only as a seducer of the will.  The hallucinatory character of reality incites the will to its restless ‘Faustian’ activity – there can be no ‘pure’ mimesis.  The ‘smile on the face of nature’ lures the individual to existence (Dasein).  “ “Sieht Helena in jedem Weibe” die Gier zum Dasein verbirgt das Unschöne.” (“ “See Helena in every woman” the greed for Dasein hides the unlovely.” Nachgelassene Fragmente, 7[27], ibid p. 144.)

But the highest pleasure of the will…  is in the Dionysian tragedy – not in the mere contemplation of beauty as in any Greek statue.  For only in tragedy does the spectator witness the “terror-face of Dasein” (das Schreckensgesicht des Daseins), whose ecstatic stimuli incite to continued life. (ibid., p. 145)  Nietzsche sees all art as demanding of the spectator (if not of the creator) this quality of ‘being outside of oneself ’ or ekstasis.  This ekstasis elevates the spectator into an enchanted state of dramatic terror – the foundations of his being begin to shake, the individual no longer seems inextinguishable.  The individual enters into “strange being” (in fremdes Sein einkehren).   This is the special privilege of art or rather of Dionysian tragedy – that it lifts the individual out of his familiar ground – transferring him to a sphere of enchantment.  This departing from oneself is an aesthetic experience.  The actor would be the spectator’s model for this ‘loss’ of self – embodying in himself and his mask the ‘strange being’ into which he has entered.  Self and ‘strange being’ share in the actor a single location. Ekstasis for Nietzsche is an extraordinary condition induced by art, especially Dionysian drama – Heidegger’s notion of ek-stasis means Dasein’s ground experience in general, prior to any sort of aesthetic transfigurations – is one of being outside of itself – this is the supposed ontological zero position.  How then does one distinguish an aesthetic ‘ekstasis’ from the ordinary given ‘ek-stasis’ of Dasein – Dasein’s always already being-outside-of-itself – in particular in Mitsein?  In this sense – Dasein would have forfeited any aesthetic ‘ekstasis’ as a peculiar heightened state of the will – or perhaps Heidegger has implicitly dissolved aesthetics into ontology – art into being – through the apriori ek-stasis of being.  Ek-stasis though cannot be both a ground position of Dasein and that potentiality of the will, which drives it beyond itself to self-perpetuating activity.  Just as in the failed distinction in Sein und Zeit between the proper (eigentlich) and the improper (uneigentlich) whereby the improper becomes the proper in Mitsein – Heidegger ‘uses up’ all potential transformations of Dasein in his initial delineation of its static/ek-static construction.  


Besides doesn’t Hegel’s idea of Entfremdung go beyond both Nietzsche and Heidegger in the ‘eccentricity’, the ‘anti-mimetic’ mode of the subject – its being only ‘outside of itself’ in its opposite?  Hegel too universalized the aesthetic effect of tragedy into the very form of the subject’s necessary self-abandonment.  Spirit is not contained within the subject but always the precarious ever-moving unity of the subject’s estrangement from self within the outer world.  In one of hundreds of expressions of this thought in Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, he writes: “Nothing has a spirit grounded and indwelling within itself but is external to itself in something alien. — The equilibrium of the whole is neither the unity persisting at one with itself nor is it its reassurance in its having returned into itself.  Rather, it rests on the alienation of opposites.  The whole therefore is, as is each individual moment, a self-alienated reality.” (G.W.F Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, translated by Terry Pinkard, 2008, online, p. 440) [“Nichts hat einen in ihm selbst gegründeten und inwohnenden Geist, sondern ist außer sich in einem fremden, - das Gleichgewicht des Ganzen nicht die bei sich selbst bleibende Einheit und ihre in sich zurückgekehrte Beruhigung, sondern beruht auf der Entfremdung des Entgegengesetzten.  Das Ganze ist daher, wie jedes einzelne Moment, eine sich entfremdete Realität;(...)”
G.W.F. Hegel, Phänomenologie des Geistes, Werke in zwanzig Bänden, 3, Frankfurt, 1976, p. 361;]  One sees how Hegel rejects any Heideggeresque idea of ‘indwelling’ of spirit in any kind of ‘being’ (state, blood, people, movement, etc) or vice versa – and the world of spirit is never a singular being-in-the-world, but at the least, a being in multiple opposing worlds.


Ekstasis, in Nietzsche’s sense, defeats mimesis.  The spectator through the medium of the actor abandons his singular identity, to lose himself in the ‘terror-face’ of drama.  Nietzsche was preoccupied at the time with the rudiments of his own drama based on the legend of Empedocles’ death – according to which he threw himself into the flames of Mount Aetna – a gruesome parable for self-immolation in drama.  Drama stands for life.  Dionysian tragedy is itself the cult of the god Dionysus – the rending of Dionysus’ body to pieces is at the heart of the mysteries.  The spectator or participant in these mysteries ‘imitates’ Dionysus’ physical dismemberment – by exiting himself in the tragedy.
“Bad music” can be the ground of abandoning self just as much (if not more) than “great music” – the one no less than the other represents the world-ground for the will.  “Bad music” is equivalent to “seeing Helena in every woman”- nothing is too low, profane or inferior for the will for it to be seduced to existence.  The propensity for hallucination – the general life-deception - is necessary (a condition) for the restless continuity of the will.  ‘Fake-Helena’, the one Faust sees in every woman, is the quintessence of falsehood, the ‘spontaneity of the lie’, consumed by the will in all of its manifestations – including will to power.  This immortal imperishable spontaneously arising falsehood as the impetus of will is implied in the last line of Faust II, spoken by the Chorus Mysticus – “the eternal-feminine pulls us beyond.” (“Das Ewig-Weibliche zieht uns hinan.”)  But in the sublunary world, – where “everything mortal (transient) is just a parable” - what then is mimesis? 




False Sunrise


The false sunrise in the night sky.  The tinted light from behind the last houses.  An illusion caused by the white cover of clouds, smoke from the lazy fires, some street lights, held down by the wet fog, so it stays low as if ready to burst or pounce.  And in that false sunrise I step out onto the dripping winter balcony and smell freshly cut hay.
The ‘sunrise’ light doesn’t exist – except from my distance.  When we pass that piece of sky on our night walk – it’s as colourless or colourful as any part of the night sky.  The phenomenon of places inviting or mysterious or unusual – even if not inviting – works only at a distance.  This is their distance beauty.  Others are ‘beauty-less’ at a distance, captivating only at close range.  But then irrevocably so.

This is not a difference of geography or topography – between city and countryside, garden and desert or some other sort of no-man’s land – but between eye and inner eye (imagination, mood, memory): what one sees from a distance and what one sees up close.  Where is or what is then ‘the place’?  Certainly all and none of that.  Is it then the ‘absence of place’, the non-place, the phantasmagorical one that forever eludes you, which is the place?

What do the Kabbalists mean when they say Shechina is in the world and at the same time one is in exile from Shechina and feels an insatiable longing (Benkshaft) for Shechina?  Is Shechina itself an exile in the world?




Inhalations


A writer on weeds – loved to roam about ruined abbeys and castles covered by ground elder, the ancient Roman cure for gout, marking forgotten gardens and habitations.  The positive expression of the conquering plant.  The better English literature is the musings of gardeners about their gardens – like those of Beth Chatto or of Bowles, a gardener from a more ‘genteel’ age.  They exhibit a precision, which has no place in any other part of British life.  Although Bowles lived until 1959 – most of his books about his garden in the various seasons were published at the beginning of the First World War. For many of the British of that generation and later – that was when time, in other words, the future of empire – stopped – but one only found that out for sure later.
The appeal of the garden in autumn is the scent of dying leaves – especially mulberry, smelling like fresh plums or silkworm boxes and strawberry leaves, smelling like I don’t know what, strawberries?  The pleasures of a connoisseur – where knowledge is essential for truly experiencing pleasure.  Although one can enjoy a smell without knowing how it is produced – just as one can operate a machine without knowing why or how it works.

The walnut tree next-door sheds it leaves on our side of the hedge – the crushed up leaves smell of oranges.  The leaves of the black currant bush have the full biting aroma of the berry – long after the berry has been harvested.  A finite number of ethereal oils supply the fragrance for plants of widely differing types.   Only in the plant world can one experience sweet smelling death.  Some smells arise only under certain weather conditions.  Frost.  Or late windless sunsets.  Late as in season of year.  Horace also wrote of the smell of dying strawberry leaves – Bacon as well.  The Augustan pose.  Power when faded is less grasping – almost elegant.  The fading of one form into the next is an endless source of scenes, seeming metamorphoses and fleeting mimicries –the blossoms of geranium pratense shed onto the riverbank look like blue melting snow.  The Japanese koto song in the theatre of the red snow roof – the dream of a bird.



  


Last Night (Faust Colony)


I had intense fears of the collective force, the mob garden.  It was a night of roaming packs and a few detached persons.  A gaunt blond young man, light-footed, very small rucksack was heckled by fat youths. 
He:  You?  You?  Then turning into the drive of the first house at the end of the escape route between the gardens – he put out a long finger but only pressed an air-bell.  Then sound of gravel as he moves off.  Probably one of the missing.  Walking into the night as if he had destinations other than night.
The plants have such a perfume – the smell of their excrements. I thought we were slightly poisoned by their excessive showy growth. Flowers are disfigured, says Bataille; at the centre of even the most beautiful rose, hidden by the corolla, are its hairy genitals.  Plants and animals are not just friends of one another.  Nietzsche betrays a rather sentimental idea of the “function of nature” when he declares – “The plant is the beautiful world of the animal…”.  After the walk through the night of plant fumes we could hardly sleep and had to urinate hugely.  What is the meaning of that sentence overheard long ago: “The garden is killing him.”?  As if they or it were an assassin with a ‘long breath’, an interloper with a murderous will.  Or some ingenious enemy who arranges for you to be the possessor of a chunk of land, relying on the innate drive for beautiful surroundings – the garden and its resident lemures do the rest.  The drive is insatiable, the enemy always more powerful – weather, pests, diseases, one’s own strength to conceive a plan which outstrips by far the strength to fulfil it.  A good line of Balzac fits this state of being:
“Ici-bas, rien n’est complet que le malheur.” (La Peau de Chagrin) – typically, in a passage about a gambler wiped clean by one of those hideous Parisian daytime gambling joints.
I: You can’t win.
L: It’s a fool’s game.
I: Now you tell me, when I’m hooked.

Why shouldn’t plants want to kill humans?  Hence for some it is more satisfying to create deserts.  The raked gravel gardens – the dry garden of the Buddhist monks must be inspired by a certain mistrust of greenery.  The beauty of the plant belongs to its survival apparatus – it is the condition of its being allowed to dominate gardens and gardeners.  It would be meaningless in a world without human taste and judgement.  Colour, smell, etc. would be mere camouflage or fear inducers in predators.  Or to stun by the impressive architecture of their blooms. Thus we return to the war between gardens and humans.  But the truth of plants has its dwelling in the darkness/bowels of the earth, downwards in the roots, wallowing in their favourite element – manure and all manner of rottenness – their appearance wrinkled, crooked and trailing whiskers like shrivelled crones, a visible material allegory of Heidegger’s ‘originary’ Being – the ‘ontological mandrake root’.  Or are the roots of plants rather the model for the ‘Mothers’ in Faust II?
The root or base of the plant, as Bataille observes, has something of the ‘baseness’ traditionally attributed to evil. (Bataille, The Language of Flowers) 




Undead


The garden pulls you to it with terrible Antaeus arms of beauty and decay.  I went for a stroll under its shady branches, after the heat of the day, and saw a lovely sight I started wanting to improve – blue grey rue tumbled onto grass, above it pointillistic red sedum heads, the darker burnt sienna reds of a heuchera pagoda and assorted foliage from geraniums, all somewhat smothered in long grass in the front.  I pulled out a few blades and discovered a pocket of minuscule white eyeballs – Hoffmannesque cavities brimming with some horrid creature’s eggs.  In the midst of gouging these out, I uncover some embryonic pudding of slime and cells - I wrap it in moss and throw it into the bucket, which I have by this time placed next to my excavations.  The eyeballs match the image of a death head or skeleton created by a partially eaten white umbrella mushroom in the front garden underneath a mutabilis rose bush.  I rearrange the rue over the bald hole, but the lovely sight now has its indelible blemish in my mind. 




Cioran and the Neoteny of the Unborn


Just remembered Cioran – a writer from an older, nobler east, more aristocratic in Nietzsche’s sense of the “vornehmer Mensch”, a master of the forgotten art of the self-abuse of the other: “(…) the numberless moments when I was not: the non-born.” (E.M. Cioran, The Trouble with Being Born, London, 1993, p. 5)  What is the neoteny of the unborn?  I found a sort of an answer – “Toy dogs often display an extreme level of neoteny, resembling not just infant, but foetal wolves.”  A picture of a red longhaired arched creature (its back a perfect lotus - like a Chinese lady’s bound foot) with a tiny muzzle face, black button eyes and snout accompanies this thrilling information.