At the risk of offering anecdotal evidence, in my experience, arborescent thinking often leads to people compartmentalising their political allegiances and their philosophical leanings into two seperate entities. I suspect am guilty of this myself, but my excuse is that the immediacy of politics often make them collide with philosophy, which is often more of a long term goal. This seems quite contradictory, and is a model that has failed to work throughout the Western world until one section, the Far Right, gave up on utopianism all together, with the Left soon following with the collapse of the Soviet Union. These defeatist attitudes have left us in a state of aporia. We now seem to live purely in the present: if someone strikes you, you strike them back, often in the name of peace. In the end, as in the Middle-East/USA conflict, we forget who threw the first punch, and if we're lucky to be actively literate, recall the morally bankrupt British hand in the formation of Israel or the States' support for Saddam Hussein in the 1970s, but to no end goal. One is reminded of the comical conflict between the offenders and the defenders in Finnegans Wake, who eventually become one all-encompassing concept: the fenders.
I sometimes think that as beings with a functioning cerebral cortex, we have to be hypocritical, or at least non-doctrinal. When philosophy or science, both, I agree with Rorty, types of literature, become dogmatic, they cease to be good philosophy or good science. Yet the scale of the hypocrisy must be measured. Being flexible does not have to mean supporting Israel when you did not support apartheid South Africa. (In fairness, commentaries on Hamas have very much resembled what Reagan and Thatcher said about Nelson Mandela; although I of course agree with Edward Said that Palestine is still waiting for its version of Mandela.) And surely, the best way to solve a problem like Israel/Palestine, to continue using a topical example, is for all concerned parties to look at what the country must eventually become in order to be allowed to co-exist with the modern world - a cosmopolitan liberal democracy not unlike South Africa - and work backwards from there.
What is my preferred end product? I am unashamedly an anarchist. Yet all movements that seem to be a step in the direction of anarchism range between distasteful and downright cruel. Take, for instance, economic libertarianism, which shares an incestuous bed with both anarcho-capitalism and Randian Objectivisim. I am in this sense a socialist and a Left-winger, largely because the Marxists, in setting themselves up as mutual enemies of capitalism, have had the largest successes in criticising the status quo (with the possible exception of Bakunin, one of the first to rightfully point out that dogmatic Communism would lead to totalitarianism). So whilst I agree with, say, anarcho-syndicalists, in many respects, I can't help but feel they are focusing their efforts in the wrong area. The biggest question anarchism has had to face (I have witnessed and participated in some beatdowns in debates against my fellow anarchists over this subject) is healthcare. Hence, why I have rarely agreed with a quote more than I agree with the utilitarian William Godwin's:
"Above all we should not forget, that government is an evil, an usurpation upon the private judgment and individual conscience of mankind; and that, however we may be obliged to admit it as a necessary evil for the present, it behoves us, as the friends of reason and the human species, to admit as little of it as possible, and carefully to observe whether, in consequence of the gradual illumination of the human mind, that little may not hereafter be diminished."
The more I look at the world around me, as officials close down my local libraries and my government fails again and again to make education a priority, I realise that those in power realise this, too, and continue to make their assault on knowledge in order to prolong their necessity. One should look no further than the frankly despicable recent election campaigns in the United States. John McCain's vow to run a clean, respectful campaign resulted in him calling his opponent everything from a sexist to a terrorist sympathiser to a Marxist to an elistist (any one of which I would probably have welcomed were they aimed at me ;)). And now we discover Barack Obama's claim to end torture and the British government's claim to condemn it were not only false but conspiratorially so.
The problem with philosophical anarchism is that it breaks down by the very nature of its passivity. The zeitgeist of what is right and what is wrong has most usually been changed by radical or revolutionary individuals, such as Gallileo or Martin Luther King, who broke down the consensus in order to create a new one. Unfortunately people such as the women's suffrage campaigners did not compell people by the moral superiority of their arguments but at the force, passion and single mindedness they delivered them with. We must then draw inspiration from publications such as Einstein's Theory of Relativity, which could, within the sphere of scientific thought, be seen as a violent act, taking into account the effect it had on preconceived notions of, say, spectroscopy. Because the truth is that every lie our governments tell us, every library they close, every piece of spin a company puts on a product, is an act of violence, and we must respond by spreading knowledge and tearing down falsehoods in order to be in a situation where we can turn the other cheek, in the manner described by Tolstoy in his seminal treaty
The Kingdom of God is Within You, without fear of being struck by an ignorant and powerful fist. That is the sick irony of the situation: that the analogy of the battlefield is inescapable, and we must find when and where the ends justify the means.
Vice-President Joe Biden posing with futurist
Steve Jurvetson, a photo that has disarmed my cynicism, however briefly.
I think this might be why I do a literature degree. Anarchy needs literature like birds need wings. There is something frightening and beautiful about both, which is why I was drawn to them. But in truth, anarchy is not alone in this respect. As Shelly put it:
"Reason is to imagination as the instrument is to the agent, as the body is to the spirit, as the shadow is to the substance."
"The great instrument of moral good is the imagination, and poetry administers to the effect by acting on the cause."
"Ethical science arranges the elements that poetry has created."
J.G. Ballard of course concurred but went a step further, saying that all fiction writers should be scientists. Whatever our political differences it might not be a bad thing to emphasise the things in life that matter, i.e. how we're all going to live together. Pride, partisanship and patriotism be damned if they get in the way. Long live science, literature and the arts. In my fictionalised review of the Sk-Interface exhibition I seemed justifiably frightened by a marriage of the three. But one guiding the other is probably not a bad idea at all, as long as that which is being lead does not fear rebelling from time to time: intellectual rebellion is the only way we truly advance.
Truthfully there are literally tens of shots in the film that suggest the director's genius, some of them, true to form, lasting for minutes on end. Our early shepherding into and out of the doorway into the bedroom, the continuous take on Monkey's progress down a slope as it is slowly revealed she is being carried rather than walking, the iconoclastic drift over images of the gods of our modern collective consciousness. (Jesus in prayer, money, a gun.) Perhaps the best example of the artist/magician duality is the final scene that at least deserves to be famous, in which Monkey moves a glass across a table with her mind. Or does she? Is she merely observing it's being progressed by the vibrations of a passing train? Our willingness to believe the unbelieveable, though, is a testament not to Tarkovsky's skill with a camera, but his understanding of psychology.
This scene follows what has been as much a psychoanalytical journey as a theological one. It is impossible not to pick up on the clumsy Id, Ego and Superego dynamic provided by the three (male) leads, but the Wittgensteinian undertones are far more subtle. The Zone, where our three heroes journey, is a metaphor for the functional world, a world of prepositions and language traps, where markers must be lain down to navigate in chaos. Just as we require illogical spatial recognitions to stay sane - Home, School, Work, Local Shop, Abroad, etc. - so does Stalker throw nuts to mark their progress before they've made it. Space is relative in this linguistic realm, and Stalker, who tries to impose his own rules on it, must thus lose the most at the pilgrimage's conclusion, in which it is revealed the Holy Grail of the story is a somewhere between a placebo and a subconscious manipulation of the universe (one theory posits that Monkey is born out of Porcupine's wish for his brother's return and is hence a reincarnation via subatomic reasoning). What is interesting is that it is Professor, ostensibly the broken, castrated Superego, who attempts to destroy Room in the Zone, where wishes are meant to be granted. His rejection of the oxymoronic scientific supernatural represents the ultimate failure of the Symbolic Circuit in Leary's model, and perhaps the culmination of a cinematic thesis extension of Lacan's Symbolic order.
"NOOOO! Don't tarnish us with politics, too! Please!!"
