The animal populations stage a comeback—something to celebrate?

Well, not entirely, if you listen carefully to CBS, which ends up giving this recovery only 2-1/2 cheers.
The Fast Draw: Pros and cons of growing animal population

This is a well done overview, inevitably oversimplified, of our tyrannical relationship with animals and nature, as no one can deny that those who came to America, first mainly from Europe, descended on this continent like a plague of wild locusts leaving few native things standing. The video chronicles in a rather noncommittal way  (it looks detachedly upon trapping, for example, which should be morally indefensible in any civilized nation and revolting to any decent human being) the loop of savage destruction of several species and then their almost miraculous salvation right on the brink of extinction by exogenous forces (industrialization, urbanization, etc.) and the hand of government, belatedly acting with a measure of wisdom. 

Still, the presenters end up marring the report by falling back on that old reflex, evaluating reality exclusively in terms of human values, and kvetching that the saving of the animals is costing us$28 billion!  Hmm, $28 billion…if repairing a huge crime against nature costs us $28 Bn, and the current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—not even factoring in the suffering, cost us $1.4 trillion, and counting, I should regard the former as a great bargain. Alas, speciesism dies hard, even among people who mean well.

—Branford Perry

________

//




Woody Guthrie at 100: Pete Seeger, Billy Bragg, Will Kaufman Honor the “Dust Bowl Troubadour”

GUESTS:
Will Kaufman, professor of American literature and culture at the University of Central Lancashire, England. He is author of Woody Guthrie, American Radical.

Pete Seeger, legendary folk singer and activist.

Billy Bragg, British musician and activist. With Wilco, he has released two albums of Woody Guthrie music.

_________
Transcript

NARRATOR: Two fragments of film survive of Guthrie performing. One of them, lost in the archives for 40 years has only just come to light.

She ’rose from her blanket, a battle to fight.
She ’rose from her blanket with a gun in each hand,
Said: Come all of you cowboys, fight for your land.

AMY GOODMAN: A rare 1945 video recording of Woody Guthrie. Known as the Dust Bowl Troubadour, Guthrie became a major influence on countless musicians, including Bob Dylan, Bruce Springsteen, Pete Seeger and Phil Ochs. While Woody Guthrie is best remembered as a musician, he also had a deeply political side. At the height of McCarthyism, Guthrie spoke out for labor and civil rights and against fascism. He died in 1967 after a long battle with Huntington’s disease. But his music lives on.

Over the next hour, we’ll hear from folk singer Pete Seeger, the British musician Billy Bragg and the historian Will Kaufman. But first, Woody Guthrie, in his own words, being interviewed by the musicologist Alan Lomax

ALAN LOMAX: What did your family do? What kind of people were they, and where did they come from?

ALAN LOMAX: Where did you live? On a farm?

WOODY GUTHRIE: Well, no, I was born there in that little town. My dad built a six-room house. Cost him about $7,000 or $8,000. And the day after he got the house built, it burned down.

ALAN LOMAX: What kind of a place was Okemah? How big was it, when you remember it, when you were a kid?

WOODY GUTHRIE: Well, in them days, it was a little town, about 1,500, and then 2,000. A few years later, it got up to about 5,000. They struck some pretty rich oil pools all around there—Grayson City and Slick City and Cromwell and Seminole and Bowlegs and Sand Springs and Springhill. And all up and down the whole country there, they got oil. Got some pretty nice old fields ’round Okemah there.

ALAN LOMAX: Did any of the oil come in your family?

WOODY GUTHRIE: No, no, we got the grease.

AMY GOODMAN: Woody Guthrie being interviewed by Alan Lomax.

We turn now to Will Kaufman, author of the new book, Woody Guthrie, American Radical. Kaufman is a professor of American literature and culture at the University of Central Lancashire, England. He’s also a musician who’s performed hundreds of musical presentations on Woody Guthrie. I interviewed Will Kaufman recently and asked him to talk about Woody Guthrie’s childhood.

WILL KAUFMAN: Well, he was born in Okemah, Oklahoma, as you said, in 1912. He was born to a middle-class, fairly right-wing family. His father, Charlie Guthrie, was a small-town politician, a real estate agent and Klan supporter, supporter of the Ku Klux Klan.

AMY GOODMAN: Some said he was a Klansman.

WOODY GUTHRIE: [singing] Back in Nineteen Twenty-Seven,
I had a little farm and I called that heaven.
Well, the prices up and the rain come down,
And I hauled my crops all into town —
I got the money, bought clothes and groceries,
Fed the kids, and raised a family.

Rain quit and the wind got high,
And the black ol’ dust storm filled the sky.
And I swapped my farm for a Ford machine,
And I poured it full of this gas-i-line —
And I started, rockin’ an’ a-rollin’,
Over the mountains, out towards the old Peach Bowl.

WILL KAUFMAN: Some of those Dust Bowl ballads come out of, really, his late teens and early twenties, you know. Then he joined about half-a-million other migrants heading westwards towards California, where they had heard there was lots of work out there—and, of course, they were wrong. And it’s there in California when Woody gets—he sort of hooks up with the right people, I suppose, and gets involved in the Popular Front out there in California, and this is the beginning of—really, of his politicization. As you said, began writing columns for the People’s World out there and—in Los Angeles, and got a show on a progressive radio station, KFVD, out in Los Angeles, and begins to circulate around the migrant camps, where the Okies, as they were pejoratively called, were living in old dwellings of tar, paper and tin and old packing crates and the bodies of abandoned cars, under railroad bridges, by the side of rivers and what have you, and getting their heads broken when they dared to organize into unions. And Woody began to witness that and began to write about it. And so, he began to see music as a political weapon then.

AMY GOODMAN: Will Kaufman, talk about 1937, the turning point for Woody Guthrie as he takes on racial issues in this country.

AMY GOODMAN: You mentioned the lynching that occurred a year before he was born that his father—

WILL KAUFMAN: Yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: —may well have been involved with.

WILL KAUFMAN: Yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: Talk about how it came back.

WILL KAUFMAN: Well, there was—about a year before Woody’s birth, there was a policeman in Okemah named George Loney, who went to the house of a fellow named Nelson, going to arrest him. I think the charge was sheep stealing or something minor like that. And I don’t think Nelson was there. But certainly his wife Laura and his 12-year-old son Lawrence and a little baby, they were there. And this policeman was apparently very violent, very threatening. And young Lawrence thought that his mother was in danger, and he grabbed a rifle, shot this policeman in the leg. Policeman bled to death on their front lawn.

[singing] As I walked down that old dark town
In the town where I was born,
I heard the saddest lonesome moan
That I ever heard before.

My hair it trembled at the roots
Cold chills run down my spine,
As I drew near that jail house
I heard this deathly cry:

Don’t kill my baby and my son,
Don’t kill my baby and my son.
You can stretch my neck from that old river bridge,
But don’t kill my baby and my son.

AMY GOODMAN: Will Kaufman, author of Woody Guthrie, American Radical. How do you know that melody and that song if Woody Guthrie never recorded it?

AMY GOODMAN: In 1940, Woody Guthrie moves to New York.

WILL KAUFMAN: Right.

AMY GOODMAN: Why?

AMY GOODMAN: And talk about what being in New York meant for him. Who did he meet? What was he singing?

KATE SMITH: [singing] God bless America
Land that I love.
Stand beside her, and guide her
Through the night with a light from above.

WOODY GUTHRIE: [singing] I roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me
But on the back side it didn’t say nothing
This land was made for you and me.

WILL KAUFMAN: OK.

AMY GOODMAN: —and what it became, in fact, for President Obama’s inauguration.

AMY GOODMAN: Did Springsteen and Seeger sing the whole song?

PETE SEEGER AND BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN: This land is your land, this land is my land
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

I roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

By the relief office, I saw my people.
As they stood there hungry, I stood there wistless,
This land was made for you and me.

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me
But on the back side it didn’t say nothing
That sign was made for you and me.

WILL KAUFMAN: He gets to New York. Will Geer is putting on a—organizing a concert, a benefit concert for the John Steinbeck Agricultural Committee.

AMY GOODMAN: Which is what?

WILL KAUFMAN: The Steinbeck Committee to Aid Agricultural [Organization] migrants, it was a benefit—fundraising organization that was just raising money for the migrants, for the Dust Bowl migrants, out in California. Steinbeck didn’t have anything to do with it except lending his name, his name to it.

AMY GOODMAN: Of course, he wrote The Grapes of Wrath.

AMY GOODMAN: Will Kaufman is author of American Radical. During an interview on Democracy Now!, the legendary folk singer Pete Seeger talked about Alan Lomax and Woody Guthrie.

AMY GOODMAN: Do you remember when you first met Woody Guthrie?

PETE SEEGER: Oh, yeah, I’ll never forget it. It was a benefit concert for California agricultural workers on Broadway at midnight. Burl Ives was there, the Golden Gate Quartet, Josh White, Leadbelly, Margo Mayo Square Dance Group, with my wife dancing in it. I sang one song very amateurishly and retired in confusion to a smattering of polite applause.

AMY GOODMAN: In 1940, Woody Guthrie appeared on a New York radio program featuring the folk singer Leadbelly.

[singing] Tom Joad got out of that old McAlester Pen
There he got his parole
After four long years on a man killing charge
Tom Joad come a walking down the road, poor boy
Tom Joad come a walking down the road

It was there he found him a truck driving man
There he got him a ride
Charge called Homicide, poor boy, it was a charge called Homicide.

AMY GOODMAN: Woody Guthrie performing on the radio in 1940. That same year, he formed the Almanac Singers with Pete Seeger and others. I asked Will Kaufman, author of Woody Guthrie, American Radical, to talk about the significance of the group.

WILL KAUFMAN: The Almanac Singers were really spearheaded by Pete Seeger and Millard Lampell and Lee Hays, and it had various personnel in this band. They were a—really wanted to form, I guess, what would have been the first self-consciously proletarian, progressive music group in America, group of singers. The idea was using song as a means of championing the union movement and the anti-intervention movement, until of course the war starts, and then they do their flip-flop and go from being anti-interventionists into war champions. They didn’t last very long. They’re dissolved, they’re broken up by about 1942. But they wrote quite a few songs which were sort of the prototype for many of the political folk groups that followed, including the Weavers, which in a sense grows out of the Almanac Singers, as some of the same people who were in that group become the Weavers, as well.

AMY GOODMAN: Paul Robeson—when did Woody Guthrie meet Paul Robeson, the famous singer, actor, dogged by the U.S. government, by the FBI? They took back his passport.

AMY GOODMAN: Well, talk about the Peekskill Riots. Exactly what happened?

WILL KAUFMAN: OK, 1949, August, late August, early September of 1949, the Civil Rights Congress, through People’s Songs, got Paul Robeson to agree to sing a benefit concert at the golfing grounds up in—or the Lakeland picnic area up in Peekskill, Westchester County. And before Robeson even got to the grounds, he never—in fact, he never even made it to the grounds, because for the whole previous week, the Peekskill Evening Star and other local newspapers and the Ku Klux Klan and other right-wing organizations were firing up the populists to prevent Robeson and to prevent his followers from coming to Peekskill. Robeson—you know, it was all this Robeson, you know, Jew-loving commie kind of stuff like that, because Robeson had declared—his crime was declaring, in the midst of the Cold War, that no African American would voluntarily go to war with the Soviet Union. He’d been to the Soviet Union. He said he was treated with more respect there than he was ever treated in the United States. And for that heresy, he was met with a burning cross on the hills above Peekskill, which, you know, kind of proved his point. And so, he never made it to the grounds there, but the concertgoers did. They were on the grounds there, and they were met by masked gangs of men and women and teenagers hurling rocks and abuse and beating them up with, you know, fence posts and baseball bats, and destroying the grounds and what have you.

[singing] Paul Robeson he’s the man
Who faced down the Ku Klux Klan
Over Peekskill’s golfing ground
His words came sounding
And all around him there
To jump and clap and cheer
I sent the best I had
My thirty thousand.

The Klansman leader said
Old Paul would lose his head
When thirty-five thousand vets
Broke up his concert.
But less than four thousand came
To side in with the Klan
And around Paul’s lonesome oak
My thirty thousand.

A beersoaked brassy band
Went snortling around the grounds
Four hundred noble souls
Westchester’s manhood
And you know they looked exactly like
Fleas on a tiger’s back
Or lost fish in the waters of
My thirty thousand.

When Paul had sung and gone
Mothers and babies going home
Cops came with guns and clubs
And they clubbed and beat ’em
Well I would hate to be a cop
Caught with a bloody stick,
Of thirty thousand.

Each eye you tried to gouge,
Each skull you tried to crack
Has got a thousand thousand friends
All along this green grass
If you furnish the skull someday
I’ll pass out the clubs and guns
To the billion hands that love
My thirty thousand.

Each wrinkle on your face
I will know it at a glance
You cannot run and hide
Nor duck nor dodge them
And your carcass and your deeds
Will fertilize the seeds
Of the ones who stood to guard
My thirty thousand.

And then, of course, with the Cold War and the Truman doctrine about containing communism in Greece, Woody writes songs against Truman, writes songs expressing his astonishment that Britain and the United States could support the Greek monarchy against the workers rising there, and just sees not only the labor movement and the union movement becoming increasingly—the fangs brought out of it, drawn out of it, but then elsewhere in the wider culture, where basically McCarthyism takes hold. He sees Hanns Eisler being deported and writes a song about that, expressing his fears about what life in a McCarthy-dominated America might be like.

But then something happens. His Huntington’s disease kicks in seriously about 1952, and so he is increasingly immobilized, increasingly—his behavior is increasingly more erratic, and he finds that he has difficulty writing. He can’t speak as well. He can’t—he gets increasing bodily—a lack of coordination. And he sort of drops out—after 1952, 1953, he’s pretty—he’s sort of becoming less and less of a public figure at that point. But he is watching from the sidelines what is going on.

AMY GOODMAN: Not so far away from where he was, at Sing Sing.

WILL KAUFMAN: Not so far, that’s right.

AMY GOODMAN: In Ossining, New York.

AMY GOODMAN: You mentioned that Pete Seeger went before HUAC—

WILL KAUFMAN: Yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: —the House Un-American Activities Committee. Guthrie was never called before it, but he did write an impassioned defense of Pete Seeger.

AMY GOODMAN: Would you like to read the letter?

AMY GOODMAN: That was the letter that Woody Guthrie wrote—

WILL KAUFMAN: That Woody wrote to Pete Seeger.

AMY GOODMAN: —in defense of Pete Seeger.

WILL KAUFMAN: Yeah.

AMY GOODMAN: Before HUAC, the House Un-American Activities Committee. What did Woody Guthrie himself feel were his most important achievements?

AMY GOODMAN: Will Kaufman, author of Woody Guthrie, American Radical.

This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org, The War and Peace Report. I’m Amy Goodman. As we continue our Woody Guthrie special, we turn to the British rocker and activist, Billy Bragg. In 1998 and 2000, Bragg participated in two well-known albums paying tribute to Woody Guthrie. On Mermaid Avenue Volumes 1 and 2, Billy Bragg composed music for lyrics written by Woody Guthrie and performed many of the songs alongside the album’s other main contributor, the band Wilco. I asked Billy Bragg to talk about how the project came about.

BILLY BRAGG: About 20 years ago, it was now, I did a show here in New York City in Central Park with Pete Seeger to celebrate Woody’s—what would have been Woody’s 80th birthday in 1992. And I met his daughter Nora, and she told me that in the Woody Guthrie archive they had lyrics of songs that Woody had written during his lifetime, which although Woody had written lyrics and music, he had actually kept the tunes in his head. He couldn’t write music notation. Now, I can’t do that. I don’t write music notation, so I understood where he was coming from. And she invited me to come and look at some of these lyrics, with a view to write some new tunes, to give them life, really.

AMY GOODMAN: Talk a little about him, for people, young people especially.

BILLY BRAGG: Well—yeah, well, Woody Guthrie was born in 1912 in Okemah, Oklahoma, and during the last Great American Depression, he was writing incredible songs about the internal migrations in the United States of America, people who had to leave the Dust Bowl, the areas of the Texas Panhandle, of Oklahoma, of Arizona, and move to the fruit orchards in California. It was a huge mass migration, similar to the kind of migration—it’s kind of a east-to-west migration. Now the migration is kind of like south to north that’s going on. But that great migration is still going on. And Woody wrote these incredible songs and eventually ended up coming to New York City in 1940, lived out in Coney Island.

AMY GOODMAN: So talk about some of the lyrics that you found.

[singing] I ain’t got no home, I’m just a-roamin’ ’round,
Just a wanderin’ worker, I go from town to town.
And the police make it hard for me no matter where I go
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
No, I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

My brothers and my sisters are stranded on this road,
Now the rich man took my home and drove me from my door
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
No, I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

My crops I laid into the banker’s store.
And my wife took down and died all on the cabin floor,
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
No, I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

I mined in your mines and I gathered in your corn
I been working, mister, since the day that I was born
Now I worry all the time like I never did before
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
No, I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

Now as I look around, it’s mighty plain to see
Where the gamblin’ man is rich while the workin’ man is poor,
And I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.
No, I ain’t got no home in this world anymore.

Aleksandr Tarasov: THE INTELLECTUALS’ BETRAYAL

VOICES FROM RUSSIA
Aleksandr Tarasov

SPECIAL DISPATCH FOR THE GREANVILLE POST
Moderated by Gaither Stewart


The betrayal of public intellectuals is now almost universal, especially so in the West, where they scramble to serve established power and imperialist ends while retaining currency in an utterly prostituted culture. Their tool, as usual, is cynicism and sophistry. In France, Bernard-Henri Lévy, a professional decadent and shameless fame-addicted narcissist, who is now clamoring for outright war against Syria, was also a vocal supporter of French intervention in Libya against Muammar Gaddafi in 2011. For his part, another famous “nouvel philosophe” — André Gluckman—has spoken out against human rights abuses by Russian forces in Chechnya. That their pronouncements serve as propaganda gifts for the American-led alliance is apparently of no concern to them at all.

Ten Years of Shame: Arguments About Blame
THE INTELLECTUALS’ BETRAYAL
A critique of Soviet intelligentsia and its counterparts abroad

The 1990s were the years in which the intelligentsia gave up its identity and its autonomy. The intellectual [intelligent] – if he is authentic and not a pseudointellectual (an intellectual by status, a bureaucrat, a clerk, a narrow specialist in a nonindustrial sphere such as education, management, or information technology) – is a creator: a creative individual, a genius, a person engaged in the search for truth through rational (scientific) or emotional (artistic) understanding and assimilation of the world. True intellectuals comprehend their individual role as thinking subjects and their social role as enlighteners and emancipators. Genuine intellectuals are paragons of critical thinking, opposed to conformity and parochialism.

In the 1990s the intellectuals betrayed themselves. They voluntarily adopted the psychology of shopkeepers and prostitutes. The shopkeeper is oriented toward immediate material gain in order to sell more at higher prices (and avoid having goods lying around). The prostitute also sells her goods (herself) – which are, generally speaking, not at the peak of freshness – and likewise wants to sell them at top prices to a large number of buyers. Neither the shopkeeper nor the prostitute is a creator; neither produces; they only sell. In the 1990s the “intelligentsia” became a social stratum of intellectual shopkeepers and intellectual prostitutes. Mass consumption demands mass – that is, uniform, and to a large extent primitive – goods. The “intelligentsia” agreed to foist their intellectual rotgut on anyone, faithfully taking in every word and gesture of their pimps (sponsors, that is, bankers, foundations, civil servants – those who gave money, awarded grants, distributed wages, and established the rules of the game). This was done with an enthusiasm worthy of better uses, as they fulfilled each and every wish, even the most perverted, of their pimps.

The “intelligentsia” has become an estate of philistines [meshchane], a petty bourgeoisie. The “intelligentsia” is now a herd of conformists, and like any herd it is easy to control. The intelligentsia of the 1990s does not want to create, to produce masterpieces (which do not make money, for it takes decades for masterpieces to be recognized – often after the death of their maker – and they want success right now). The “intelligentsia” of the 1990s has rejected critical thinking: critical thinking is repressed (at best one is denied access to the feeding trough, at worst put in prison or killed). The absence of critical thinking, however, also means an absence of critical action – that is, the absence of creative action, revolutionary action, action that changes the world, innovative action. Of course, the “intellectuals” of the 1990s have lost their role as enlighteners and emancipators. Instead, they have discovered a hypocritical, servile contempt for their own people – viewed as mere cattle. The intellectual prostitutes and shopkeepers have adopted (as lackeys and servants often do) the views and manners of their lords.

The “intellectuals” of the 1990s believed in a postindustrial “information” society, which gave them grounds for self-justification: we are no longer dependent, they said, on those who mine coal, pick cotton, and grow grain. We live in a different, “higher” civilization – although farm products are not yet virtual but are still produced by peasants; moreover, peasants in the “third world,” who live in desperate poverty. Nor is clothing virtual: cotton is still grown and picked by peasants; weavers still weave the fabric as before, only to be repaid in tuberculosis and pneumoconiosis; and coal (without which there would be no electricity, meaning that their computers and electronic media – the entire virtual world of the pseudointelligentsia of the 1990s – would not work) is still mined by miners as it always has been, for a pittance, even as they contract silicosis and die by the hundreds annually in cave-ins and methane explosions.

The “intelligentsia” of the 1990s has become a predominantly parasitical stratum, and like all parasitical strata it is inclined toward counter-revolutionary sentiments. It has become unfashionable to be on the left. Revolution has given way to an anathema against “violence” (as if counter-revolution is not violence; as if the “normal existence” of the modern world, in which the United Nations estimates that forty million people die from hunger every year, is not the mass murder of the starving by those with full bellies).

The pseudointellectuals of the 1990s do not want to enlighten and emancipate anyone. Geniuses, creators, prophets, and revolutionaries are eager to enlighten and emancipate: the broader their circles and the greater their community, the more interesting it is for them to live, the more meaningful their existence becomes. The petty bourgeois, the intellectual shopkeepers and prostitutes, have no economic interest in emancipating and enlightening others: from their standpoint anyone who is enlightened and emancipated is an economic rival. Suddenly he is selling something, and I am not? Suddenly the pimp dotes on him, not me?

The venality of our “intelligentsia” was already obvious in the Soviet period, in the 1970s and 1980s when “intellectuals” unanimously praised the “wisdom” of the CPSU and of Brezhnev personally, although no NKVD agent held a machine gun at their backs and forced them to do this; they were simply well paid for it. But venality became even more unattractive in the 1990s, when the very people who had praised Communism under the Communists instantly became ferocious enemies of Communism under the anticommunists. We need only recall P. Gurevich, who in the 1970s and 1980s “exposed” mysticism, neo-Freudianism, and orthodox individualism while extolling Marxism but in the 1990s began to praise mysticism, neo-Freudianism, and right-wing individualism while spurning Marxism. D. Volkogonov was still compiling ideological strictures for GlavPUR in the late 1980s, branding anyone who “slandered” the Soviet army; by the 1990s he was issuing orders for the struggle against “communo-fascism” and writing antihistorical “works” demonizing Lenin and Trotsky. In the 1970s A. Tsipko wrote books on Marxist theory (illiterate, true – he even confused the titles of Lenin’s works!); in the 1980s he was a consultant to the Central Committee apparatus; but in the 1990s, as soon as he acquired a chic apartment in a Central Committee building on Dimitrov Street (many still remember the brouhaha the press made about this building in the early 1990s, when the campaign against privilege was being waged), he immediately became a ferocious persecutor of the Communist Party.

The “intelligentsia” of the 1990s have become a stratum serving the interests of those in power and those with money; they ignore the fact that these people are becoming increasingly dim-witted and esthetically undeveloped. Stalin could phone Pasternak to find out whether Mandel’shtam truly was an outstanding poet. Kennedy was able to ask someone to explain to him (“just so I can understand it”) what made Béjart an outstanding ballet master. No one can prove to Luzhkov that Tsereteli is a monster. No one could show Margaret Thatcher that cyber-punk was the most brilliant literary phenomenon in the United States in the 1980s (anything associated with the word “punk” elicited an instinctive class aversion from Maggie). To please those with power and money, one must conform to their tastes; and to conform to their tastes, one must be like Zurab Tsereteli and Sydney Sheldon – that is, one must either be a mediocrity or become one.

THE TRIUMPH OF MEDIOCRITY

The 1990s saw the victory of mediocrity over talent. The mass culture despised by intellectuals of the sixties and seventies and part of the 1980s was proclaimed an equal culture, one that completely supplanted authentic culture (because mass culture sells well, and it sells well because it is designed to satisfy the primitive tastes of the primitive minds of the “middle class”; mass culture is the authentic culture of the middle class). Entire cultural branches (which usually have a short history within the authentic culture) were destroyed in the 1990s. The first victims were the cinema and rock. As art forms, the cinema and rock emerged from mass culture relatively recently: the cinema shed the fetters of “mass culture” in the 1920s, but it emerged as an independent, serious, and authentic art form only in the 1950s, when post-Stalinist cinema developed in the “Eastern bloc” (the Soviet, Hungarian, Polish, and Czech cinematographic schools), and Italian neo-realism became dominant in Western cinematographic consciousness. Rock emerged as an authentic, serious art form only in the second half of the 1960s.

There is no more cinema. Instead of cinema we now have movies. This is no longer art. It is a part of show business. Show business bears no relationship to art (as revealed by the very name “show business”). Fellini or Tarkovsky could not exist in the 1990s; they are not related either to show or to business; they cannot be sold. Show is a strip tease, a man with two heads, a band playing out of tune led by a bare-legged, simple-minded drum majorette. In the final analysis it is Pozner or Arbatova (“a talk show”), diligently making fools of housewives on TV under orders from those in power (another version of the “soap opera” – it fills the viewer’s time, but God forbid their brains should ever be engaged). Business is business: I have a commodity that I have to palm off on the consumer; brains in such cases are downright harmful – God forbid that you should wonder whether the consumer needs such a commodity.

The shameful story of the blatantly second-rate, intolerably boring, unbearably tawdry, cloyingly sentimental, archetypally tabloid Titanic is symbolic. It symbolizes the death of cinema as art. There are many such symbolic phenomena in the 1990s: there is, for example, the solemn elevation to “modern classic” and “outstanding cinematic achievement” of the blatantly miserable and second-rate film “The Fifth Element” (designed at best for ten- to twelve-year olds), or the awarding of the Legion of Honor (!) to El’dar Riazanov for his monstrosity “Parisian Secrets”.

In the 1990s everything cinematic that was neither kitsch nor show business but art found itself banished to a ghetto.

In the 1990s, neither “The Doors” nor Janis Joplin nor “King Crimson” could exist. They are too oppositional. They are not politically correct. They are too philosophical. Finally they are unpleasantly gloomy. The attempt to reproduce Woodstock thirty years later showed how far the rock scene had degenerated. Instead of a holiday of union and love, a feast of geniuses, a communion with the pulse of the world, it was an ordinary show with crowds of half-drunk, done-up, sated, self-satisfied yuppies and children of yuppies who did not even listen to the music or express an interest in who was playing or what was being sung (which was, in fact, no longer important – this was not the 1960s). Rather they strove to be part of a “historical” event by wallowing in the Woodstock mud.

Those who resist with all their strength the spell of commercialization and musical primitivism and attempt to preserve the spirit of genuine rock are also relegated to the ghetto (in extreme cases they are made into “useful Jews” – dubbed “stars,” “outstanding figures,” “living legends,” and “national treasures” – and the British queen and the U.S. president are ready, should the occasion arise, to shake their hands and give them an official document testifying that “the bearer is a genuine member of the Judenrat in the rock ghetto”).

Using mechanisms discovered and perfected in previous decades, mediocrity with money has learned to render harmless creative people, artists, and true intellectuals. In the United States, for example, Hollywood and TV, of course, perform the role of “murderers of talent.” As soon as a talented prose writer appears on the literary horizon, he is immediately tempted with large sums of money to do screen plays in Hollywood and/or on TV. That is all that is necessary: the talent dies. The same happens to poets, only they are swallowed up in the quagmire of pop music.

Actually, it is interesting how American pseudointellectuals – the mediocrities who imagine themselves to be “art people” – reacted to this in the 1990s. Since both Hollywood and TV are interested only in people who are able to create talented, gripping, dramatic, and psychological prose (i.e., prose for which some distinct classical criteria exist and quality is easily determined by comparing it with familiar models), literary buffoons incapable of working at this level of difficulty spawn “automatic” works that have no theme, no characters, and so on. In this way they console themselves and suggest to others that only this type of prose is “truly contemporary,” reflecting the spirit of the present. Mediocrities behave the same way in poetry. Being incapable of creating interesting works within the poetic tradition (for example, it is not easy today to write original, nonepigonic, rhymed verses, especially in complex forms – try, for instance, writing a Spencerian stanza!), the mediocrities rush, to a man, into minimalism and free verse, arguing that only such verse is modern and reflects the “spirit of the times.” Actually, elemental envy of one’s more successful colleagues hides behind these “theoretical manifestoes.”

In the 1980s these people were still able to turn up their noses, snort, and stigmatize the more successful people who were part of Hollywood and the pop scene as having “sold out” and descended into low “mass culture.” In the 1990s this is impossible. They themselves have proclaimed “mass culture” genuine, venality a sign of success, and success a sign of talent.

Society’s loss of interest in modern artists (in the broadest sense) is retribution for mediocrity. Why spend money to look at a mediocre film if it is obvious that on that level I can make a film myself? So you have tens of thousands of members of the American “middle class” in the 1990s taking video cameras in their hands and making porno films in which they themselves participate, and which they later exchange with one another. But actually this is far more interesting than the analogous products that use actors whom, unlike your neighbor, you would never meet in real life.

The triumph of mediocrity was also reflected on the political scene. Brilliant politicians were supplanted by opaque, gray, wretched little people. One need only look at the physiognomy of, for instance, Robin Cook or Jamie Shea to call to mind if not a manual in psychopathology, then at least Max Nordau’s “Degeneration”. President Clinton will go down in history as a scandal involving oral sex. This is not Kennedy and the Carribbean crisis, and especially not Roosevelt with his New Deal and victory in World War II. No one assassinates Clinton, because no one needs such a Slippery Joe (unlike Roosevelt or Kennedy). The faces of European politicians, unmemorable and indistinguishable from one another, openly blend into one another, devoid of all individuality. Then there are Russia’s farcical political leaders – from the dunce Chernomyrdin, whose sole achievement was the phrase “They wanted the best, but they got more of the same” to the first delirious, then demented Yeltsin, a “second edition of Leonid Brezhnev” (I will not even mention the other Zhirinovskys).

The “intellectual elite” is no better. All our economists with their advanced degrees were complete flops in the 1990s, written off as utterly incompetent. Our sociologists did no better in all the major elections of the 1990s, unanimously predicting a crushing defeat of Lukashenko and Kuchma in the presidential elections in Belarus and Ukraine, a stunning success for Our Home Is Russia and Russia’s Democratic Choice, and the defeat of the Communists in the Russian parliamentary elections.

Even Western economists did no better in the 1990s. None of them was able to predict, or even provide a reasonable explanation of, the Mexican financial crisis or the later Asian, Russian, and Brazilian crises.

The phenomenon of Francis Fukuyama and his “end of history” could have emerged only in an atmosphere marked by the triumph of mediocrity. One need only recall a university course in the history of philosophy (in this case Hegel), adroitly pluck out Hegel’s ideological precept, and use it in praise of liberalism (no one even noticed that Fukuyama stole not only from Hegel but from Hitler as well, proclaiming the next “thousand-year Reich” – this time a liberal one!), and in a void one can earn the laurels of an “outstanding philosopher.” Even in the 1980s no one could have imagined such a thing. The French “new philosophers” were also masters of self-publicity, but even they were unable to achieve such success. Nor is it important that all Fukuyama’s postulates have proven quite untenable by the end of the 1990s – the name has already been earned. Fukuyama is already studied at the university as a “living classic,” while other philosophers – real ones – are being removed from university courses in the 1990s: Marx in Mexico, Hegel in the United States and France, Gramsci in Canada, and Unamuno and Sartre in Denmark.

NARCISSISM, HEDONISM, AND DISNEYLAND

In the 1990s art lost its social significance – with the full consent of artists and “intellectuals.” Philosophical novels, social films, rebellious poetry, political rock, frescoes and psychodelic paintings, and psychodelic dances – both socially and politically oriented (a part or a legacy of the counterculture) – vanished into the past. “Artists” withdrew into a little world of petty and deeply personal problems, to heal (and cultivate) their numerous complexes. The age of narcissism arrived, celebrating the individualism and shameless need for publicity of the ordinary philistine “ego.” In the 1990s “artists” spend their lives in persistent (often futile) attempts to attract attention and cajole money out of potential sponsors. Self-love compensates for lack of talent and imagination. Prose about nothing sits side by side with prose about love of one’s own body. (A. Ageev showed me one such masterpiece from the journal “Znamia”, saying, “That’s it, I’ve had it!” The author was describing at great length how she shaved her pubic hair with her father’s razor; who on earth could find this interesting?)

Having lost its social relevance, art lost its audience, said goodbye to society, and became superfluous in the modern world. Then it became a game (the popularity of “Homo ludens” among our “intellectuals” in the 1990s is very instructive, and so is the failure to understand Huizinga, especially his warning that play by nature exists outside morality). By transforming art into a game, “artists” of the 1990s drastically reduced the value of art and their own value as “artists,” and their “product” became something sold in a toy store, known to be unremarkable and readily interchangeable.

This kind of “art” is no longer dangerous to the System. Consequently, such “artists” are not masters of ideas – that is, Artists. No one will hang them as they did Ryleev, shoot them like Lorca or Joe Hill, guillotine them like André Chénier, behead them like Thomas More or Walter Raleigh, beat them to death in the stadium like Víctor Jara, throw them from a helicopter to drown in the sea like Otto René Castillo, shoot them like Lennon or Courier, poison them like Santeul or Li Yu, let them die in the camps like Mandel’shtam or Desnos, or burn them alive like Servetus or Archpriest Avvakum. They will not die in battle like Javier Heraud or José Martí, and no one will skin them alive like Imadaddin Nasimi. No one needs them because they terrify no one. Power respects only those it fears. By shifting their activity into the domain of play, “artists” of the 1990s became the toy of Power. All they had left was to play to exhaustion, to play themselves in the game acceptable to Power.

The 1990s signaled the triumph of hedonism. Psychologically, socially, culturally, there are three types of people: the philistine, the bohemian, and the creator (creative personality). In the 1990s the philistine and the bohemian merged, here and in the West. The bohemian adopted the values of the philistine world, and the bohemian lifestyle made inroads into the philistine world. The “Artist” learned how to hustle money for a “project” and, when the “project” was done, to turn life into one grand party with weed, grub, and sex to exhaustion, celebrating that he need do nothing for a long time except live on the money he received for completing the “project.” John Milton, who was unable not to write Paradise Lost, or Pushkin, whose “hands [were] drawn to the pen,” would not have understood this.

Of course, all this requires surplus money in society. This surplus is created, as we know, by unequal exchange with the “third world.” The hacks can produce their talentless “artistic” products (of no use to anyone) by the thousands and pump themselves full of heroin because somewhere in Latin America, Africa, and Asia (and now in Russia as well) thousands of children are dying everyday from hunger. In the 1990s the world of the middle class became an inseparable blob of philistines and bohemians, a single endless gallery, podium, TV show, sex, tourist, sadomasochistic club.

Hence the fascisization of the artistic media. Fascism became safe for the System (Chile’s Pinochet confiscated no one’s property; on the contrary, he returned what Allende had nationalized). Fascism became a game, but a game at the margins of the permissible. It is the surest way to attract attention to oneself, that is, to successfully sell oneself in a market where there are too many competitors. The clearest example of this is “Laibakh,” and the “Neue Slovenische Kunst” [new Slavic art] in general. Fascism has become part of the mainstream. The SS uniform worn by bikers, gay ballet dancers, and visitors to sadomasochist clubs; the humanization of Hitler by Fest and Sokurov – all this is merely a cultural expression of the political amalgam of bourgeois democracy and fascism in a single country (for example, Peru, where parliamentary democracy destroys the villages of 600,000 Indians, turning them into refugees, and kills 80,000; or Turkey, where parliamentary democracy destroys the villages of 3 million Kurds, turning them into refugees, and kills 200,000).

The “artist” at play is a hedonist and a narcissist; he has no chance of finding the same audience or enjoying the same demand or the same level of respect as a social artist – rebel, prophet, and “accursed poet.” In Sandinista Nicaragua there was a flowering of poetry and universal love for Cardenal, García Márquez, and Guayasamín; the partisans in Timor pray to the poets and artists of clandestine theaters as they pray to the gods; and in the jungles of Colombia the singers of songs of protest enjoy incredible honor and respect among the armed campesinos. In a world where “artists” are bought and sold – and consent to being bought and sold – they have no future as true artists do. They are commodities: their fate (and their price) is determined by the buyer, and the buyer in modern Western society is increasingly drawn to objects that are used only once.

Hence, too, comes the enthusiasm for linguistic philosophy, which is completely harmless, politically sterile. If one studies language and text (Ur-text) instead of people and society, it is by definition impossible to encroach on anyone’s property interests. Today’s linguistic philosophy is just as much the refuge of cowards as scholasticism was in the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries, and it is no accident that linguistic philosophy, like scholasticism, focuses on the interpretation of texts, not the analysis of practice and experience. There can be no action, no practice, without a clash of interests. Action is engaged from the outset; hence anyone who analyzes action is also forced into engagement: he looks through the eyes of either winner or loser, and even as an “onlooker” he is forced to acknowledge that there are winners and losers (which is itself humiliating to one side). Only the author of a text, not its interpreter, is responsible for that text – not to mention that exegesis does not create intellectual essences but only recombines those that already exist, whereas generalization and the analysis of experience and action do create new intellectual essences (experience and action are pre- or extra-intellectual, natural phenomena).

Hence, too, the enthusiasm for nonclassical philosophy, which is especially widespread among those “artists” and “intellectuals” who parade in “left-wing” and “leftist” garb (the same kind of attempt at attracting attention as playing at fascism). Such “artists” and “intellectuals” have always existed, but in the past authentic left-wing Westerners called them “plush” or “chic leftists” – that is, inauthentic, toy leftists. “Chic leftists” especially love Debors (since he theoretically “justified” the meaninglessness of political struggle long before Fukayama – merely in a different, pseudo-Marxist language, proclaiming the indestructibility of the thousand-year liberal Reich) and Foucault with his penchant for studying psychosocial pathology and borderline phenomena. He says, for example, that madness is an “antibourgeois” phenomenon. Of course, secretly the “chic leftists” know that madness is not antibourgeois: it does not oppose the bourgeoisie, it exists altogether apart from class characteristics. Only that which (or those who) presents a positive social project that can compete with the bourgeois project and create a new utopia are antibourgeois and consequently dangerous to the bourgeoisie (i.e., dangerous to those in bourgeois society who are involved in this). This the bourgeoisie represses. But madness is allowed. Madness is not a crime but a disease. Revolution can be proclaimed a crime, illness never.

POSTMODERNISM, POLITICAL CORRECTNESS, AND THE TYRANNY OF THE MEDIA

The 1990s were the age of postmodernism. The “1990s generation” repudiated philosophy because of its own patent inability to understand classical and postclassical philosophical texts and its fear of the struggle to change the real world. The “intelligentsia” of the 1990s enthusiastically embraced postmodernism precisely because it saw it as a justification of its own intellectual mediocrity, its creative barrenness, its political cowardice, and its social venality. For postmodernists, the “supercession” of ontology, rationalism, and philosophy in general “justified” the inability to come up with a scientific vision and understanding of the world, to understand and appropriate the legacy of philosophy (as V. Terin aptly put it at a seminar at the Center of Modern Art, “Now you do not need to read Kant, Hegel, and Marx – now you can read me, Terin”). The postmodernist rejection of the cognitive, prophetic, and didactic functions of art “justified” lack of talent and made it possible to replace the traditional production of works of art with endless “activity” oriented toward this activity as process. The postmodernist proclamation that rational action was “obsolete” (since the “result never coincides with the plan” and “the object of change responds violently to attempts to change it”) “justified” fear of repression (narcissists and hedonists are afraid not only of death, torture, or prison but of the absence of comfort and loss of the means to indulge in a variety of pleasures – can one truly live without LSD and a bidet?). The postmodern decision to grant equal status to genuine art and to kitsch, to the serious and to play, to left and right, to building and destroying, to the real and the illusory “justified” the banality of the “intelligentsia” and transformed it into a machine for satisfying the quite primitive needs of a “middle class” in pursuit of hedonistic pleasure.

Postmodernist society is Abraham Moles “mosaic culture” become reality. Society is divided into small groups, each with its own “geniuses” (utterly wretched), its own neophytes (even more wretched), its own standards of quality, its own morality, and its own fashion. Postmodernist society can no longer act as a whole; it is defenseless before those wielding power. Micro-groups are unable to unite, and they have great difficulty interacting with one another since they are secretly hostile and do not need one another. The postmodern world is a world of singles. In the ideal case, postmodern society strives toward atomization, to complete self-satisfied equality, and to intellectual limits, despite its apparent diversity (“The Machine Stops,” according to E.M. Forster). The biggest, carefully guarded secret of the postmodern world is its extraordinary political utility for the ruling elite. The elite is consolidated, engaged, and utterly rational; and it owns property, receives profits, and organizes (on purely rational grounds) world industry and the world political process. The elite is conservative out of necessity (no profit without stability); it does not play postmodernist games. (It wears stiff suits; its children attend closed schools where they receive a classical education and the nineteenth-century discipline of the rod; it buys Cézanne paintings, not the installations of Carl Andre; it listens to Beethoven in Carnegie Hall, not Michael Jackson in stadiums, etc.) The elite forces postmodernism on the “middle class” and the “grass roots,” for an atomized society is safe (it cannot take away the elite’s property, and hence their power).

If a mosaic culture is not to degenerate into an open war of all against all, political correctness is necessary. Political correctness is, according to the brilliant definition of Paco Rabanne, the “virtue of sheep being led to the slaughterhouse.” Social conflict spurs a search for allies. It tends toward globalization, and any such conflict, even though it begins with a clash among the myriad cells of mosaic society, threatens to expand into a class and race conflict (since during the course of the conflict, greater and more general contradictions and incongruities come to light, fundamental contradictions and incongruities, and blocs of allies are formed). Political correctness ensures stability by its disregard of the Other. Laziness and an aversion to understanding any other cell of mosaic society makes it possible to avoid conflict (by avoiding comparisons) while narcissistically glorifying oneself. As Christopher Hitchens observed, political correctness has not inspired people with respect for diversity; everyone is afraid of everyone else, and out of fear each tries to show no interest in the others. Hitchens called the reign of political correctness the “I-millennium” (another form of the “liberal Reich”!).

Political correctness guarantees mediocrity high status within one cell of mosaic society: the hierarchy of talent from craftsman to genius (from Bulgarin to Dostoevsky) is based on comparisons. Without comparison there can be no hierarchy. Anyone can proclaim himself an “artist” and a “genius.” “Genius” becomes a declaration: one need only gather two or three friends (drinking buddies) to start a “current” or a “school.”

In postmodern society the media become gendarme and censor. By encouraging a specious diversity of styles and groups, the media create a situation of information overload, which, as psychologists and psychiatrists know, blocks the higher (peak) psychological functions (emotional, intellectual, and creative). “Mass culture” becomes the only acceptable culture not only because it is imposed but because its reception requires no effort. A brain overloaded with information resists receiving anything that requires a serious intellectual or emotional investment.

In the 1990s the media successfully erased information deemed inappropriate by those in power from people’s picture of the world. They primitivized the picture of reality, the viewer as a person, and the criteria of taste and morality in general. Thus, the scandal of Monica Lewinsky forced hundreds of millions to meddle in the personal life of someone they did not know at the same time as it erased unpleasant reality from the “electronic picture of the world”: the partisan war in Colombia and the participation in it of American aircraft; the millions protesting in New York against racist police terror set in motion by Mayor Guiliani; and the government’s attempt to disband the strongest U.S. trade union, the Teamsters (truck drivers, etc.).

In the 1990s the tyranny of the media forces a loss of standards: it is impossible to explain in terms of postmodernist (rational) thinking why someone like Tudjman, a devotee of fascism, and the Islamic fundamentalist Izetbegovic are “good,” but the socialist Milosevic is a “monster.” In the 1990s it is unnecessary to explain anything; it is sufficient to proclaim. As a result, those at the front of the media’s cultural portrait gallery are those who are completely safe. For example, in prose writing we have Viktor Erofeev and his books that everyone knows have nothing to do with literature; Pelevin and his “Chapaev and Pustota” – an exact copy of the (morally even worse) novel “Al’tist Danilov”, that mass culture “hit” from the “period of stagnation,” and so on. The 1990s loss of standards involved not only quality but activity as well, the very existence of status. The court requires expert confirmations that Avdei Ter-Ogan’ian is an artist and acts in an artistic way, although no one demands that Prigov prove that his writings are poetry (although bad verse or no verse can already not be considered poetry).

In the 1990s the media ratcheted up changes in standards, names, and fashions. Styles and artists changed constantly – every day. Constant novelty is required of the “artist” – thus demands the market and advertising – and the demand is mechanical, formal, and esthetically, qualitatively, and fundamentally irrelevant. In the 1990s “after” means “better” – that is, if Yevtushenko writes after Byron, he must write better.

The tyranny of the media was in full display during the second Yugoslav war (the war in Kosovo). The first Yugoslav war was justly called a “postmodern war,” but the second revealed the total dependence of the postmodern “culture community” on the media, which were entirely under the control of those in power and no longer even masked their role as brainwashing machine. NATO aircraft systematically destroyed the Yugoslav media precisely because they were not controlled by NATO and provided “incorrect” information – this was stated openly. Well-known American professors unanimously complained that not one publication wanted to print articles in which they criticized NATO, and television crews refused to interview them as soon as it became clear that they opposed the war in Yugoslavia. The postmodern pseudointelligentsia, moreover, has begun quoting Roland Barthes, repeating that “every discursive system is a presentation, a show,” although the Yugoslav example in fact refutes Barthes: it exemplifies the overt destruction of the show (the game). It is an example of how one discursive system destroys another – not linguistically, not according to Barthes, not through “aggressive dialogue,” but with missiles and bombs, eliminating dialogue and imposing monologue. Both Yugoslav wars had economic causes, among others: the refusal of the ruling Socialist Party in Yugoslavia to privatize collective property and allow Western capital to buy up Yugoslav industry (altogether, only 7 percent of the Yugoslav economy is privatized, and in Serbia the figure is 4 percent). The Yugoslav leadership’s position can be explained in terms of the economic interests of the collective owners who are also the backbone of the Socialist Party, but the Western media said not a word about this, preferring to demonize one person, Milosevic. This is a deliberate dumbing-down of the viewer to the level of the benighted and illiterate Russian peasant of the early nineteenth century, who believed that Bonaparte was the Antichrist.

THE GHETTOIZATION OF CULTURE

In the 1990s authentic culture was banished to the periphery, driven into the ghetto: this is true not only of art but also of philosophy, and the humanities as well – only the last were driven into the ghettos of universities and minuscule research groups and centers. The humanities were split into dozens, even hundreds, of schools in the 1990s – and these schools did not interact with any of the others (except perhaps for the most similar; even then there were conflicts). For example, in post-Marxist European thought we have the “London school” (an outgrowth of the Yugoslav group Praxis), which was expelled from the intellectual field considered enlightened by the media, and this cell of mosaic society was represented by a small group of politically inoffensive French “chic leftists” – Deleuze and Guattari with their “Desire,” Lyotard with his “intensity,” and Baudrillard with his “temptation.” By the 1990s in France, the historical schools, which made no effort to conceal their social engagement, were bankrupt, and they were driven out of the publishing world and the universities. Only those that did innocuous things survived: for example, publishing documents and compiling commentaries on commentaries. Strictly speaking, as a discipline history no longer exists in France. What remains are pseudohistory (helpless, stripped of its methodology, and popularized) and metahistory.

Ghettoization condemns to fragmentation and oblivion those who do not accept the rules of the game imposed in the 1990s. Isolated from the media, given limited means and a limited circle of discourse and communication, and published in very small print runs, they are condemned to a struggle for survival and have difficulty finding one another.

The postmodern world of the 1990s actively hinders the acquisition of full and accurate information as well as access to the pre- and postmodern critical legacy and to authentic culture. It did this, however, not by outright prohibition (which would have made matters easier: “what is forbidden is true”) but by information overload, by overwhelming the sensory channels with “white noise.” The ghettoized opposition is increasingly torn from its own roots and is finding it more and more difficult to find not only allies but even predecessors. Thus, the theoretician of an Italian Luxemburgianists organization “Socialismo Rivoluzionario”, was quite startled when I told him that the twentieth century had produced a large number of Italian Marxist philosophers. He knew only of Gramsci; all the other names – even Labriola, Della Volpe, and Coletti – meant nothing to him!

In the United States ballet troupes that tried to resist the “ballet mainstream” – despite being isolated from one another and impoverished – have ended up in a cultural ghetto. The situation was similar in the second half of the 1960s and the early 1970s, but then these troupes were able to find one another quickly, to work together and interact (sometimes even in conflict), and on the whole saw themselves as part of the Living Theater. As a result, they were able to force society to see itself and to recognize itself. Today this is impossible because of the huge sea of ballet circles and studios for the “middle class,” where overweight Americans learn dance to pass the time, lose weight, and maintain their figures.

But the issue is not merely that the “airwaves” are overloaded. At issue is the fundamental incompatibility of two cultures: authentic culture, which is the legacy of the European tradition from the Renaissance and the Enlightenment to the avant-garde; and “mass culture” (a phenomenon that exists independently in any culture, not only European or Westernized culture). Authentic culture is oriented toward genius, creativity, and dissatisfaction; the new “mass culture” is oriented toward philistinism, consumption, and comfort. They cannot coexist peacefully any more than the Nazis and the Jews could coexist peacefully in the Third-Reich.

And if today, in the 1990s, the “Nazis” hold the “battlefield,” then naturally the “Jews” are in the ghetto. Hence, for example, the splendid journal “Zabriski Rider” is unknown to the “public at large”; the remarkable painter, poet, publisher, and anarchist Tolstyi exists, as it were, outside “cultural space”; and the brilliant rock bard and performer Aleksandr Nepomniashchii has never appeared on the TV screen or on radio music stations. For the same reason, “official poetry” (from Voznesenskii to Vsevolod Nekrasov) diligently ignores the existence of Evgenii Kol’chuzhkin, an outstanding traditional poet and pupil of S. Shervinskii, who lives in Tomsk. Finally, this is why the Russian literary world pretends that the shocking parody It’s Me, Little Boris! exists nowhere in nature.

The intelligentsia of the 1990s related to the cultural ghetto in the same way that the German population under Hitler related to the concentration camps and the Jewish ghettos. That is the bill the children (grandchildren) of this “intelligentsia” – the future RAF – will present to their forebears in the twenty-first century.

By ghettoizing authentic culture, postmodern society itself drives those who find themselves in the cultural ghetto into ideological and political opposition. Thus, the journal “Bronzovyi vek” began as a purely literary publication, bordering on mainstream culture. After a few years of ghettoized existence, “Bronzovyi vek” became a publication that was openly opposed to liberalism – politically, esthetically, philosophically – to the “open society,” and to representative democracy.

THE DEGENERATION AND DECLINE OF THE POSTMODERN EMPIRE

By the end of the decade, the postmodern empire of the 1990s had begun to putrefy – at a pace that would have been unbelievable in preceding eras! – and began to demonstrate all the classic signs of degeneration and decline

Intellectual banality was never a novelty, but neither was it so massive and so destructive in its consequences (even for those who had sold themselves). On the whole, the “intelligentsia” sold out in two ways. Let us provisionally call them the “path of Stephen King” and the “path of Jeff Koons.”

Stephen King once produced talented tales that had a clear antibourgeois and antimilitarist subtext (his past as an activist in the struggle against the Vietnam War was discernible), linking the lineage of Ambrose Bierce with that of Ray Bradbury. With the advent of success (later, commercial success) Stephen King moved from culture to “mass culture” and lost face. Instead of stories, novels now appeared (listings, fees!); individual style was replaced by brisk “dialogue” and “action”; psychology gave way to stilted, repetitive images. Even his plots became repetitive – nowadays in a King work, basically someone falls into a hole in space or time or someone (something) is drawn or sucked up at the sound of a whistle (or the smacking of the lips). The number of copies printed, however, continues to climb. But interest is declining even in the field of “mass culture.” His creative and personal degeneration is apparent. It is degeneration through success.

Jeff Koons showed himself to be an incredibly talented artist in a very inauspicious field – the field of advertising. Success made it possible for him to move from the sphere of mass culture to the world of serious culture. He ridiculed the mass culture of advertising at the end of the 1980s in his series Banality. In the 1990s Koons again moved to mass culture through the pseudorebellious action film Made in Heaven. Of course, his marriage to Cicciolina belonged in the scandal columns, and in the 1990s you no longer surprise anyone with a series of photographs of the sex act in various positions (the porno industry!) even if it is oneself and Cicciolina who are the “stars.” But the rules of the tabloid scandal are observed (including the pretense that this is a “political” opposition to hypocritical, conservative, Reaganesque America, but then Madonna would be a “political fighter”!). So here we have scandal, success, money – and degeneration. The openly boring, wretched but highly paid works on command of the 1990s. This is degeneration through scandal.

For example, in our country Pelevin, who began writing stories that were unquestionably interesting if not really of genius, chose the path of Stephen King. Saraskina, who went from articles on literary criticism to articles on every conceivable topic in the “glasnost era” chose the path of Jeff Koons and then abruptly leaped into mass culture with her book on Dostoevsky’s Women.

An entire pleiad of our best-known rock musicians – Grebenshchikov, Kinchev, Shevchuk – have tried both scenarios. In the early 1990s their rock was both a scandal (from the standpoint of “official culture”) and a continuation of their success in their previous cultural activity. The end is the same for all: degeneration into barstool trivia and indulgence of the tastes of the “new Russians.”

One can witness this deterioration in the examples of such cult figures as Tarantino, Lynch, and Greenway. First, what is the meaning of “cult” when there are so many “cults” that anything that is obviously badly done (“punk loves garbage”) can become a “cult.” Second, the repetitiveness and recognizable features in Greenway, Lynch, and Tarantino, their production-line quality, soon renders them uninteresting, even outright boring, except among a narrow circle of “fans.” The “cult” is instantly transformed into a minor “sect” and dwindles to nothing.

The postmodern “intelligentsia’s” abolition in the 1990s of the dichotomy between scientific and ordinary thought naturally resulted in degeneration to the everyday, a return to philistine common sense. By the end of the 1990s the intelligentsia was already afraid to use scientific terminology and the vocabulary of serious philosophy. It speaks in professional pidgin (“deconstruction of discourse by the syntagms of representative installation” – a familiar business: only those who think clearly can explain clearly!). This fear extended to include the very term “postmodernism.” At the same time, the “intelligentsia” began to panic every time it came into contact with complex reality. For instance, Lee Rasta Braun shuns all forms of systematization: if a phenomenon is systematic, it requires systematized knowledge and systematized thinking, and systemized knowledge and systematized thinking are inaccessible to the victims of mosaic culture (a system presupposes hierarchy and comparison). Peter Fend proclaims himself to be a “politically active artist” but thinks in categories of the average American (and even boasts about it), endlessly repeating the banalities of a “left-wing

Biedermeier” and maliciously attacking Sartre for supposedly “sitting in a café his whole life holding forth on how much he hated the bourgeoisie” (although the real Sartre participated in the Resistance and in [the student demonstrations of] May 1968, personally sold “Lutte ouvrière” newspaper in the seventies, helped the “urban guerrillas” of the RAF, and inspired revolutionaries from the sixties through the 1980s, to say nothing of his direct role as a philosopher and writer). Peter Fend’s hatred of Jean-Paul Sartre is the hatred of a man in the age of degradation who cannot realize himself socially and politically toward a man who was thoroughly social and political, a man who was fully self-actualized. In other words, it is envy – envy of other times and other “rules of the game.”

The complaints of the “artists” of the 1990s that “the public is not interested” in them is a phenomenon of the same type. Here, too, “the public” is professional pidgin, a euphemism, a shameless and cunning replacement of reality by “virtual reality.” It is not “the public” that does not need the “artists” of the 1990s but society, or if you will humanity.

This is not the first time a mosaic culture has developed, but it is the first time it has been global, not confined to one country or one empire. A typical mosaic culture evolved in Austria-Hungary before its collapse. The same was true of the Greek states before they fell. A postmodern type of culture, with all its attributes – repetitiveness, citations, recombinations, emphasis on spectacle, sexualization, play – has also appeared before. Such was Europe in the age of mannerisms, in the late Byzantine empire, and in late Rome. Even small details coincide – such as the hyperbolization of the “fashion industry,” the enthusiasm for “ethnic music” and tattoos, or the transformation of communication by representatives of the “cultural environment” into in-group patter. The analogy with Rome is especially appropriate because late Rome, like the modern “first world,” was a parasitical formation – the metropolis existed at the expense of the provinces and by plundering the outlying territories, just as the “first world” today exists at the expense of the “third world.”

The classical signs of degradation and decline deprive the intelligentsia of the 1990s of all prospects. Future historians will approach the 1990s as they did the 1890s in Russia or the 1780s in France: as “the putrefaction of a sated, parasitical society,” the fin de siècle, “the growth of mysticism and immorality,” “narcoticization,” “heightened interest in and esthetization of illness and death,” “decadence,” “retreat into a world of illusion,” and so on.

The development of culture will, as it always has, proceed from sources beyond the mainstream of parasitical society – that is, from sources alien (or at least opposed) to the Western liberal postmodernist “culture.”

The “intelligentsia” of the 1990s has condemned itself to a future of oblivion and ridicule. And that is as it should be.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexander Nikolaevich Tarasov (Russian: Алекса́ндр Никола́евич Тара́сов, born March 8, 1958 in Moscow) is a Soviet and Russian left-wing sociologist, politologist, culturologist, publicist, writer and philosopher. Up until the beginning of the 21st century he referred to himself as a Post-Marxist[1][2] alongside István Mészáros and a number of Yugoslav Marxist philosophers who belonged to Praxis School and emigrated to London. Since in the 21st century the term Post-Marxism has been appropriated by Ernesto Laclau, Chantal Mouffe and their followers, Alexander Tarasov (together with the above mentioned István Mészáros and Yugoslav philosophers) stopped referring to himself as a Post-Marxist.[3]

//




The progressive case for Obama —(annotated)

Drones, the drug war and income inequality are important. But a vote against Obama only makes other issues worse


President Barack Obama pauses as he speaks at a campaign event at George Mason University, Friday, Oct. 5, 2012, in Fairfax, Va. (AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster) (Credit: AP/Carolyn Kaster)

Editor’s Note:  We present this article, “the other side of the contra Obama argument” because we do not pretend to absolutism in our “certainties” (itself an absolutism), and because Coyote’s plea is among the best we have found of its kind.  Actually he’s so “reasonable” that he comes close to winning his case. Indeed, he makes a compelling argument up to a point…and then the structure sort of collapses. Leaving aside the fact that Coyote in his current incarnation is a self-professed “Buddhist priest”, and I have no use for any type of religion, even Buddhism (which, admittedly, seems less harmful than most), I found some of Coyote’s assertions and equations rankling, superficial, conventional, and hard to accept. (Mother Theresa an example of goodness balancing the universal evil of Hitler? Apparently Coyote never read Hitchens’ able deconstruction of the “beatified nun” or else he would have looked for a more formidable angel. But these are really quibbles. Coyote is a lifelong leftwinger and his heart is obviously on the, let’s call it, “the healing side of humanity.”)

For the record, let me say at the outset that we do have an important point of agreement, namely his objection to what he regards as Stoller’s “reductionism”.  Obama, despite his many flaws, including Olympian opportunism, can’t be held accountable for all that is wrong with America today (an argument, incidentally that Stoller does not make).  For that he’d have to be a Caesar, and the American executive, for all his/her bloated powers, occupies a position far more diluted than that.  Much larger forces, unchecked class forces, acting on longer horizons than his tenure, have created much of the criminal mess we inhabit.  In fact the plutocratic propaganda project which facilitated this development is of very old standing.  Self-flattering myths and outrageous fabrications have trapped the American mind in a cocoon of unreality practically from the moment the nation was born, but have taken a decisively more professional, self-conscious and cynical edge in the postwar period. Is it an exaggeration to say that at least for the last 40 years the nation has been governed by a shadow government bent on implementing an oligarchic agenda while hiding behind an elaborate PR curtain of dessicated democratic formality?  As Coyote puts it, “capital and its minions have been working carefully and closely behind the scenes for decades, disenfranchising workers, voters, women and minorities.” The upshot of all this has been the scarcely denied arrival of the age of “Finance Capitalism”, the dreaded “financiation” stage, a natural development of global capitalism already envisioned by Lenin. That said, Obama, as Stoller and others have efficiently pointed out, has actively participated in the entrenchement of this malevolent new order. His hands are plenty dirty by now. He’s no innocent bystander.

In the final analysis, Coyote winds up endorsing the same tired old LOTE script, a path that, by postponing the inevitable, can only lead to a far more intractable and destructive confrontation at a later date, a date that the oncoming ecological crisis can ill accommodate.  On these grounds alone, and considering the copious and irrefutable evidence furnished by history that temporizing with evil is rarely a good idea, it is our turn to ask: Who is really being delusional?

We look forward to your comments.—P. Greanville

BY PETER COYOTE, salon.com
MONDAY, OCT 29, 2012

Matt Stoller’s provocative piece “The Progressive Case Against Obama” is a passionate, well-reasoned argument as to why “progressives,” even in swing states, should refuse to vote for President Obama. While I do not have Stoller’s political bona fides, I, like him, have spent a lifetime in “radical” and progressive politics, and served for eight years under Jerry Brown when he was governor of California — in other words, I possess some real-world political experience. I also have about 40 years of age on Stoller, and would like to offer the value of that perspective in refuting what I believe to be several distortions in this piece, which, if taken literally, could conceivably throw the election to Mitt Romney with more disastrous consequences than Stoller may have considered.

Stoller argues, and for the record, I agree, that under President Obama’s administration economic inequity in America has grown to staggering proportions. He holds Obama personally responsible for turning down a deal from Hank Paulson where, in return for rapid distribution of the second round of TARP funds, Paulson would press the banks to write down mortgages and save millions of foreclosures. According to Rep. Barney Frank and Stoller, the president nixed this deal, saved the banks and screwed homeowners. This is a damning charge, and I’m embarrassed to say that I believe it is true. It is one among a number of charges against the president that discourage and offend me: his reversal of single-payer healthcare, extra-judicial killings; the extension of imperial presidential powers and extensions of needless secrecy and attacks against whistle-blowers, the reliance on predator drones and death lists, to name a few.

Stoller presses us to consider President Obama responsible for all the above, and demands that we ask, “What kind of America has he [President Obama] actually delivered,” and this is where his argument begins to get wonky.

The drive toward corporate dominance of our political life (literal Fascism) began in earnest after Barry Goldwater’s defeat in 1964 when the U.S. Chamber of Commerce hired soon-to-be Supreme Court Justice Lewis Powell to write a white paper on threats to the American way of life. Justice Powell identified two dominant enemies — consumer activists (particularly Ralph Nader) and environmentalists — as sources of major concern for the future. His report went on to create the blueprint of think tanks, publishing houses, social strategies and media assault that right-wing millionaires and billionaires, like the Coors, the Kochs and others, have generously funded for more than 40 years, transforming the American political vocabulary and framing of ideas about government and freedom in the process.

In so doing, their concentrated wealth and leverage of the media have conscripted presidents of both parties, and the entire Congress, as a concierge for their interests. If Ronald Reagan had not snipped the words “fair and balanced” from FCC-enabling legislation we would not have hate radio and Fox News today. If President Clinton had not overseen the demise of Glass-Steagall we would not have witnessed the rampant Wall Street speculation, fraud and collapse of our financial system that President Obama inherited. If Clinton had not signed the Telecommunications Act, delivering the public’s airwaves to a few major corporations, or GATT/NAFTA, bankrupting millions of Mexican farmers (no standing on our street corners seeking work) and shipping jobs to the Third World, we would be inhabiting a very different America today, one with a far more open and less biased public discourse.

I mention this, because there is an unsettling “personal” quality to Stoller’s assault on the president; an imbalanced, somewhat adolescent tenor to his outrage at the fact that the president could have once used illegal drugs but is currently the titular head of the War on Drugs. By making him single-handedly responsible for having “delivered” all current afflictions to America, Stoller simultaneously demonizes the president and makes him more powerful than virtually any figure in our political history.

President Obama was not the architect of these policies. He may be the tip of the iceberg, which we can identify dead ahead of our Ship of State, but capital and its minions have been working carefully and closely behind the scenes for decades, disenfranchising workers, voters, women and minorities. Like frogs resting comfortably in gradually heating water, we are just now apparently noticing how close to boiling our environment is. While Democrats have concentrated on a plethora of issues, the corporatists have worked unremittingly to gain power over the entire financial sector of the Nation.

It is impossible to imagine any candidate running for office that did not have the imprimatur of the American corporate sector. They own the 18 inches of counter and the cash register. They fan out their products as if they were all available for consumer choice –. and they are. Would you prefer a cool, slender, brilliant black attorney who looks like he stepped out of a Colors of Benetton ad or a strong-jawed white man who reminds us of the “good old ’50s” when white people could do whatever the hell they wanted? A Bible-thumping Baptist? They’ve got them all, and we mistake our “freedom” to choose among them as liberty. The media colludes with the candidates in repeating their narratives and faux populist roles until the entire spectacle of elections appears indistinguishable from a reality show.

Despite raising unprecedented amounts of money from “the little people,” 60 percent of Obama’s first presidential campaign was funded by big donors. He was Wall Street’s darling, and his payback to them was junking his campaign financial advisers and putting Timothy Geithner in charge to ensure that Wall Street’s interests were met. Is this surprising? This is how the politics of capital works. This is why the Commission on Presidential Debates forced the League of Women Voters out of managing the debates so that they could control the narrative and exclude third-party candidates. Did Mr. Stoller actually ever assume that a single man would be able to rein in the military-industrial complex and Wall Street? That would have been delusional, and whatever the president’s real strategies may have been, he was not helped by the defection of most of his supporters, who after the election returned to the Internet and blogging, while public spaces became colonized by Tea Party wing-nuts.

Mr. Obama is an astute student of power and he navigates his presidency between its shoals. He does what he can at the margins, and perhaps as a young father with children, he might be forgiven nervousness at the many unveiled threats leveled against him:  audience members showing up at his speeches carrying arms; unvetted guests slipping through White House security to get close enough for a handshake. These are rough games, and who can fault a family man for wanting to stay alive?

However, Stoller suggests a Machiavellian, hidden subterfuge to Obama’s ascendancy, as if he assumes that (just like a Colors of Benetton ad) race were confused with liberal politics. He cites as evidence of Obama’s conservative agenda, Mr. Obama’s early control of the House and Senate, but never analyzes that control closely. Obama was plagued with a razor-thin majority and the threatened defection of mutinous Blue-Dog democrats. He had no hope of passing a number of key legislative programs that might have kept his promises and still had clearly before him President Clinton’s own healthcare debacle as a reminder against acting rashly. Singling him out as the evil genius who has  single-handedly produced the alarming state of 21st century America is a reductionism that is not helpful and certainly takes voters and others off the hook.

The Gordian knot of our current corrupt political system is money! Public financing of elections; free airtime for qualified candidates; disenfranchising corporations from spending their treasure to influence public policy are three steps that could radically transform the American political landscape. People understand them. They are not abstract and could be the basis for real radical organizing. It is how European elections are run, over a two- to three-month period, where people are not bludgeoned into catatonia by trivia and the opinions of pundits discussing everything but the issues. Candidates can be seen on every channel, in open, unstructured debates, and people get a fair chance to make up their minds between a host of philosophies and attitudes that make America’s two-party system look like a fixed three-card monte game.

“The best moment for change is actually a crisis.” Stoller’s assertion sounds good, but is it true? In my youth, young radicals refused Hubert Humphrey’s compromised liberalism and wound up with Vietnam scarring the nation for the next decade. We made the perfect the enemy of the good. The real crises upon us are global warming and extreme environmental degradation and the implications are profound and life-threatening. It should be clear to most observers that the conflict between individual self-interest and the commons is leading directly to our mutual destruction. As long as millions of people “work” in industries like coal, nuclear, petroleum and hydrocarbons, their self-interest at maintaining employment works directly against solutions for the good of the race. If the nation needs to take drastic action to save the planet, we will have to consider how we will distribute national wealth when “jobs” have to be sacrificed. That is an idea that no candidate has had the courage to address and neither have any on the left, to my knowledge. What paucity of spirit concludes that begging for a job is a form of dignity, without considering what circumstances have left men and women so bereft of common wealth that they have nothing but their labor to offer?

No one will lay down and die (or abandon their families) for an abstract goal. But unless we can guarantee livelihood to the millions who are currently engaged in destructive planetary practices, we are out of luck. Exacerbating that dilemma by provoking a political crisis is a guarantee of wasting another 10 years while reactionary forces and stopgap measures take short-term dominance over common sense and common need. Doing it in a country awash with guns, anxiety, fears or rapid social change is a recipe to re-create the streets of Syria and Lebanon at home.

Many of Obama’s constitutional violations that disturb Stoller and myself are barely known and understood by the general populace. It will take decades of education to build understanding of their importance and constituencies for them. However, education, carbon, global warming, nuclear issues, the rights of women, immigrants, minorities, etc., are immediate and pressing. In triage terms, an Obama presidency will allow time to work on these issues without sentencing another decade to the negative consequences of panic, despair and chaos.

I applaud Stoller’s concerns and his passion, but I think he underestimates how long political change actually takes. I certainly did as a young man, when I was calling for revolution and stockpiling weapons. My father was a wealthy man in the ’50s and early ’60s, a big-time Wall Street broker. His  last words to me in 1970, when he was visiting the commune I lived on, remain prophetic and true. “You think America’s going down in five years, son; it’ll take 50 and you better be prepared to hang in for the long haul. There are huge historical forces at work, and the sons of bitches running things will do whatever they can to make sure they get theirs out of it before they die.”

A simple walk through any European streets will reveal plaques on the walls commemorating where neighbors were dragged from their homes and shot by partisans, by fascists, by communists, by Falangists. True social upheaval is horrifying, it is being danced before our eyes on TV and in print every day. While in the abstract it may “cleanse” the political body or other comforting nostrums, for the dead, the wounded, the maimed and the millions who continue to suffer, those are the slogans of a removed, detached leadership. It is obvious that Stoller considers himself among them. “We need to put ourselves into the position of being able to run the government,” he says with no apparent irony, as if he and his friends were obviously “good” people and if the world were left in their hands, only good would come of it.

As a Zen Buddhist priest in my seventh decade, I know better. I know that  each of us carries within us the capacity of all humanity for positive and negative behavior; we can be Hitler or Mother Teresa. We leak anger, jealousy, competitiveness on a daily basis and if we are not careful and do not monitor ourselves, our best intentions become murderous to others. (Think Iraq, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, El Salvador, the Dominican Republic, Panama, Grenada, Vietnam.) Were the millions upon millions of deaths we caused in those places done only by “bad” people or a mistake? That’s a delusion.

I would suggest that the lesser of two evils is “less evil.” Sometimes in the real, impure world the bad man and the good are indivisible and morph from one to the other. It makes fixed judgments difficult. You take what you can get, and you organize to protect yourself. To deliberately create a political crisis as an organizing tool sounds remarkably like the old Marxist saw of “heightening the contradiction.” Been there, done that. It’s tough being human. Picking one’s way through reality moment by moment requires delicacy and finesse. Instead of preparing to ‘rule,’ I would be interested in learning more about Stoller’s desires to “serve.”  In the meantime, I can only cling to the hope that his advice to vote against the president in swing states is not widely observed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Peter Coyote (born Rachmil Pinchus Ben Mosha Cohon; October 10, 1941)[1] is an American actor, author, director, screenwriter and narrator of films, theatre, television and audio books. Coyote’s left-wing politics are evident in his articles for Mother Jones magazine, some of which he wrote as a delegate to the 1996 Democratic National Convention; in his disagreements with David Horowitz; and in his autobiography Sleeping Where I Fall. In 2006, he developed a political television show for Link TV called “The Active Opposition” and in 2007 created Outside the Box with Peter Coyote starting on Link TV’s special, Special: The End of Oil – Part 2.   SEE FULL WIKI PROFILE

Let’s keep this award-winning site going!

Yes, audiences applaud us. But do you?If yes, then buy us a beer. The wingnuts are falling over each other to make donations…to their causes. We, on the other hand, take our left media—the only media that speak for us— for granted. Don’t join that parade, and give today. Every dollar counts.
Use the DONATE button below or on the sidebar. And do the right thing. Even once a year.

Use PayPal via the button below.

THANK YOU.

 

//




The death and life of James Connolly

POSTED BY SEAN LENIHAN

What many people forget is that Connolly was an important and brave union activist in America, prior to his return to his homeland.


James Connolly, Irish hero and lifelong socialist activist. His example lives.

BY 21ST CENTURY SOCIALISM.COM

In Dublin’s Kilmainham Jail on 12th May 1916, a working class man born in Scotland was executed for his part in the Easter Rising, an attempt to liberate Ireland from 800 years of foreign occupation. Because his injuries acquired in the defeated insurrection were so severe that he was unable to stand, the British soldiers tied James Connolly to a chair in order that he could face the firing squad.

In that rising, the men and women who took on the overwhelming military might of the British Empire held out for four days. Their leaders were rounded up afterwards and shot, each of them defiant to the end. The aftermath was the armed struggle waged by the IRA under Michael Collins, leading to the formation in 1921 of the Irish Free State; following which there was a civil war which lasted a further two years.

The life of James Connolly, a key leader of the Easter Rising, is worthy of special attention. It is a tale which begins amid the grinding poverty of a disease-ridden slum populated by Irish immigrants in Edinburgh towards the end of the 19th century.

Anti-Irish sentiment in Scotland was commonplace during this period, with the poison of religious sectarianism exacerbated by the poverty which resulted from a laissez faire capitalist model- an unremitting struggle of all against all for the crumbs from the table, while the capitalist bosses made their profits. In Edinburgh, the poor Irish immigrants were squeezed together in their own ghetto in the centre of the city. The locals named it ‘Little Ireland’, and here the ravages of poverty – in the shape of alcoholism, crime, and diseases such as cholera and typhus – were part of every day life.

James Connolly, born 5 June 1868, was the youngest of three brothers. At the age of ten, after his mother died, he lied about his age and began work in the print-shop of a local newspaper.

At an age when his life might otherwise have consisted of going to school and running free with other boys his age, here he was being introduced to the cruel world of employment under lightly-regulated capitalism; a mere child experiencing all the dirt and noise and smells of heavy machinery amongst the worn and broken men who toiled long hours for starvation wages.

Desperate to escape this fate, at the age of fourteen Connolly once again lied about his age and joined the British Army. He was posted to Ireland, the birthplace of his parents, and it was there, witnessing the atrocities being carried out against the Irish people by the British Army, that the seeds of class consciousness and hatred of oppression were planted.

It was also during this period that he met his wife, Lillie Reynolds, who worked as a domestic servant for a prominent unionist family in Dublin. An outstanding figure in her own right, Lillie would remain by her husband’s side to the end of his life, sharing in his triumphs and defeats.

Connolly deserted from the British Army at the age of 21, moved back to Scotland with Lillie and there began his involvement in the working class movement. In 1889 whilst living in Dundee, he joined the Socialist League, an organisation committed to revolutionary internationalism and which which received the endorsement of Friedrich Engels.

A year later he moved to Edinburgh with his wife and by then two children, where he returned to the grind of manual labour, picking up work here and there as he and his wife struggled against poverty. Throughout, Connolly continued to find time for politics and he became secretary of the Scottish Socialist Federation. He entered a municipal election as a socialist candidate around this period and received 263 votes.

In 1896, James Connolly returned to Dublin, a city he’d grown to love while posted there in the British Army, in response to an offer to work for the Dublin Socialist Club.  Shortly after his arrival he founded the Irish Socialist Republican Party. In his first statement on behalf of the ISRP, he wrote:

“The struggle for Irish freedom has two aspects: it is national and it is social. The national ideal can never be realised until Ireland stands forth before the world as a nation, free and independent. It is social and economic, because no matter what the form of government may be, as long as one class owns as private property the land and the instruments of labour from which mankind derive their substance, that class will always have it in their power to plunder and enslave the remainder of their fellow creatures.”

At this time there were two strands of revolutionary thought in Ireland, national liberation and socialism. Connolly had decided by this point that, rather than being antagonistic, these strands were in fact complementary.

This was a view which ran counter to the prevailing current in the socialist movements in continental Europe during that period, including most of those who ascribed to the legacy of Karl Marx. The dominant view among the leading socialist theorists was that the struggle for socialism must reach across the false divisions of national, ethnic and cultural identity. Nationalist movements as such were scorned. But most of those European Marxists had no experience of living under the domination of a foreign empire; for them the ‘national question’ only existed in the abstract.

Much of Connolly’s most powerful writing and thinking focused on this very issue. As he put it:

“The struggle for socialism and national liberation cannot and must not be separated.”
And:

“The cause of labour is the cause of Ireland; the cause of Ireland is the cause of Labour.”

In his synthesis of the cause of the working class with the cause of liberation from imperial domination, James Connolly was a major progenitor of the left politics of the 20th Century, and also of the early 21st Century.

Connolly was also an early champion of women’s rights. He argued:

“The worker is the slave of capitalist society, the female worker is the slave of that slave.”
‘I know of no foreign enemy except the British government’

In 1903, as work and finances in Dublin dwindled, Connolly moved to the United States. He’d visited there the year before; travelling across the country lecturing on political philosophy and trade unionism, and his lectures had received a warm reception and much praise from leading figures within the nascent US socialist movement of the period, in particular Daniel De Leon.

After a hard initial few years in his adopted country, Connolly eventually managed to find stable work, and in 1906 became a paid organiser for the recently formed Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), led by the legendary Big Bill Haywood.  He also joined the American Socialist Labor Party and founded a monthly newspaper, The Harp, with which he aimed to reach the East Coast’s huge Irish immigrant population.

Largely due to Connolly’s focus on Irish immigrants, he and De Leon soon split. De Leon, an orthodox Marxist, abhorred Connolly’s belief that Marxism should be adapted to varying cultures and traditions if a nation of immigrants was to be mobilized in the cause.

The split was acrimonious, Connolly accusing De Leon of being elitist, De Leon questioning Connolly’s methods and grasp of Marxist theory and practice. However, Connolly continued on the path he had chosen, and it was obvious by now that a large part of his motivation in doing so was an increasing homesickness for his beloved Ireland.

In 1910 his dream of returning to Ireland became reality. He returned after being invited to become national organizer for the newly-formed Socialist Party of Ireland.  Soon after his return he published a number of pamphlets, one of which, Labour in Irish History, was was a major step in the development of an understanding of the history of Ireland.

A trade union banner of the miners in Durham, England, in the 1920s. Depicted on the banner are James Connolly, Labour Party leader Keir Hardie, the British miners’ leader AJ Cook, local miners’ leader George Harvey, and Vladimir Lenin.

By now possessing an unshakable belief in the importance of the trade union movement for the revolutionary struggle, Connolly joined with James Larkin in his Irish Transport and General Workers Union.  Connolly moved north to Belfast to organize for the ITGWU, hoping to smash down the barriers of religious sectarianism and unite the working class in the shipyards around which the city was built.

He had little success.

In 1913, he moved back to Dublin to join Larkin in the titanic struggle which began when the Dublin employers locked out thousands of workers in an attempt to break the increasing influence and strength of the ITGWU.

A protest meeting of the workers was held despite a ban on such meetings having been ordered by the authorities. It was savagely attacked and broken up by baton-wielding police, and afterwards Connolly was arrested.  He refused bail for good behaviour and was sentenced to three months in prison. Immediately embarking on a hunger strike, he was released after just one week.

Connolly’s first endeavour upon his release was to form a workers’ militia. Never again, he vowed, would workers be trampled into the ground by police horses or beaten down under police batons. He called this new militia, which comprised around 250 volunteers, the Irish Citizen Army (ICA).  The day after its formation, Connolly spoke at a meeting:

“Listen to me, I am going to talk sedition. The next time we are out on a march, I want to be accompanied by four battalions of trained men.”  When Larkin left Ireland for a fundraising tour of the United States in 1914, Connolly became acting general secretary of the ITGWU. The same year, watching as millions of workers went off to be slaughtered in the First World War, he was devastated:

“This war appears to me as the most fearful crime of the centuries. In it the working class are to be sacrificed so that a small clique of rulers and armament makers may sate their lust for power and their greed for wealth. Nations are to be obliterated, progress stopped, and international hatreds erected into deities to be worshipped.”

All over Europe, even socialists succumbed to the poison of patriotism, joining the war efforts in their respective countries and thus heralding the end of the Second International in which socialist parties and figures representing Europe’s toiling people had vowed to campaign against the war and the slaughter of worker by worker. Connolly’s analysis of the war was scathing:

“I know of no foreign enemy in this country except the British Government. Should a German army land in Ireland tomorrow, we should be perfectly justified in joining it, if by so doing we could rid this country for once and for all the Brigand Empire that drags us unwillingly to war.”

That British Government attempted to buy off Irish sentiment, hitherto in support of outright independence from the Empire, with a Home Rule bill, which in effect promised devolved power if the political leadership in Ireland at that time – people like John Redmond of the Irish Parliamentary Party – would agree to the recruitment of Irish workers to be slaughtered in the trenches in an imperialist war.

The bill split the Irish national liberation movement into those who supported it as a step towards outright independence and those, like Connolly, who were totally against it. He declaimed:

“If you are itching for a rifle, itching to fight, have a country of your own.  Better to fight for our own country than the robber empire. If ever you shoulder a rifle, let it be for Ireland.”

It was then that Connolly’s position shifted with regard to ‘physical force’.  Previously, he had wanted no part in it, eschewing it as reckless and contrary to Marxist doctrine of a mass revolution of the working class, whereby consciousness precedes action.

But with the retreat of the European socialists, and the failure of the trade unions to act against the war, Connolly despaired of ever achieving the society he’d dedicated his life to without armed struggle. An organisation called the Irish Republican Brotherhood was planning just the kind of insurrection which Connolly had in mind. Connolly had taken a dim view of the IRB and its leaders up until then, viewing them as a bunch of feckless romantics. However, when they revealed their plans to him at a private meeting – plans involving the mobilization of 11,000 volunteers throughout the country – and that a large shipment of arms was on the way from Germany, he agreed to join them with his own ICA volunteers.

Connolly was respected enough by the IRB leaders, in particular Padraig Pearse, to be appointed military commander of Dublin’s rebel forces. Pearse, a school teacher, was certain that they would all be slaughtered. He was imbued with a belief in the necessity of a blood sacrifice to awaken the Irish people, holding obscurantist beliefs that were steeped in Irish history and the Gaelic culture. But for all that he was no less committed to his cause than Connolly to his, and as a consequence they soon developed a grudging respect for one another.

In the end, the plan for the Easter Sunday insurrection went awry.  Rebel army volunteers deployed outwith Dublin received conflicting orders and failed to mobilize, leaving Dublin isolated. After postponing the insurrection for a day due to the confusion, the Dublin leadership decided to press on regardless. Connolly assembled his men outside their union headquarters, known as Liberty Hall.

By now he knew their chances for success were slim at best, and indeed it is said that he turned to a trusted aide as the men formed up and, in a low voice, announced:

“We’re going out to be slaughtered.”
With Padraig Pearse beside him, Connolly marched his men to their military objective, the General Post Office building on O’Connell Street in the centre of Dublin. They rushed in, took control of the building, and barricaded themselves in to await the inevitable military response from the British.

Connolly, Pearse and one of the other leaders of the insurrection, Thomas C. Clarke, marched out into the street to read out the now famous proclamation of the Irish Republic.

In it, at Connolly’s insistence, the rights of the Irish people to the ownership of Ireland, to equality and to the ending of religious discrimination were included:

“The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally, and oblivious to the differences carefully fostered by an alien government, which have divided a minority from the majority in the past.”

After holding out against the British Army for four days, during which Connolly inspired the men under his command with his determination and courage, in the process suffering wounds to the chest and ankle, British reinforcements and artillery arrived from the mainland to begin shelling rebel positions throughout the city.

The leadership, upon realizing the hopelessness of their situation, and in order to prevent the deaths of any more of their volunteers and civilians in a losing fight, reluctantly decided to surrender.

In the aftermath the ringleaders of the Rising were executed. Connolly was saved for last, the severity of his wounds failing to deter the British from taking their revenge as they tied him to a chair in the courtyard of Kilmainham Jail, where he was executed by firing squad.

At his court martial days prior, held in his cell in deference to those same wounds, James Connolly made the following statement:

“Believing that the British Government has no right in Ireland, never had any right in Ireland, and never can have any right in Ireland, the presence, in any one generation of Irishmen, of even a respectable minority, ready to die to affirm that truth, makes the Government forever a usurpation and a crime against human progress.  I personally thank God that I have lived to see the day when thousands of Irishmen and boys, and hundreds of women and girls, were ready to affirm that truth, and to attest to it with their lives if need be.”

When news of the Rising was released, some prominent European socialists dismissed it as a putsch of little or no great consequence. But a leading Russian activist, Vladimir Lenin, was not of that opinion, and went so far as to refute such criticisms in his article, The Results of the Discussion on self-determination. To him, the Easter Rising stood as an example of the awakening of the working class and the masses that was taking place across Europe, providing hope that global revolution was on the horizon.

He wrote:

“Those who can term such a rising a Putsch are either the worst kind of reactionaries or hopeless doctrinaires, incapable of imagining the social revolution as a living phenomenon.”

Today, a statue of James Connolly stands in pride of place at the centre of Dublin. A brass engraving of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic also sits at pride of place in the window of the General Post Office headquarters, where Connolly made his stand for the liberty of his nation and the working class during four fateful days in April 1916.

Let’s keep this award-winning site going!

Yes, audiences applaud us. But do you?If yes, then buy us a beer. The wingnuts are falling over each other to make donations…to their causes. We, on the other hand, take our left media—the only media that speak for us— for granted. Don’t join that parade, and give today. Every dollar counts.
Use the DONATE button below or on the sidebar. And do the right thing. Even once a year.

Use PayPal via the button below.

THANK YOU.

 

//